[Teddy Bears Picnic]

Teddy Bears Picnic                                                                                                  

It was a wonderful Pride Day in our fair city. The weather was pleasantly warm and the crowds had come out in force, apparently the whole community loved such well-organised events. I was sitting in the picnic/bar area with a large group of friends when a sleuth of lovely bears; weighty, beardy and dressed in checked shirts and leather, walked past. Inspired by such a wonderful (if stereotype) vision I just happened to ask to anyone who was listening who still had their childhood teddy bear?

One of the guys passing stopped and replied that most bears he knew still have bears and lovingly treasure them. I happened to mention that he wasn’t the only one as I also still had my own sitting on a shelf in my study at home. Now this may surprise you but it’s actually in my bedroom but I felt too embarrassed to admit that little fact. The chatty hirsute fellow in the bar said he wouldn’t dream of keeping his anywhere but in the bedroom where, when he falls asleep, is there to protect him. He explained to the group that as a child his parents had told him that when he goes to sleep, his teddy would be there to look out for him, fight off any monsters and prevent bad dreams. Even now at his age (early thirties I would guess), he wouldn’t like to spend a night without being under teddy’s (Mr Claws) watchful eye.

Slowly it emerged that quite a few of our mixed gay and hetero number still had their childhood bears and wouldn’t part with them even for the best shag in the world. Well, in truth, it was only one person who admitted to that particular thing, the rest of us decided that it all depended on who was on offer… and left it at that.

It would appear that teddy bears, our bears, are perhaps the only thing we still cling to from our childhood. We stick to a memory of that sweet fluffy creature that saw us through every moment of our young life. It offered friendship, comfort, safety and to some - protection, when the adult world seemed really gross and scary. We sucked on it as a baby, we hugged it as a toddler and we travelled with it as we grew up – a journey simply wasn’t worth taking unless our best friend, our teddy, was right alongside us.

We then got down to discussing our individual teddies; our childish names for them, how big or small they were, the fur which had disappeared over the years, the repairs that had been made, the clothes we sometimes dressed them in (and some still had them wearing the same outfit) counting all the trials we’d gone through with him or her. It was never an ‘it’, it was never an inanimate object, it had a name, it was real and he or she was our best friend.

---

Memories of our infancy came rushing back, someone claimed he could remember being in his pram, wearing only a nappy and clutching ‘Fooby’ to his chest, the soft fur being nice against his naked baby chest. I had no memory that stretched that far back, certainly not to when I was a baby but (confession time) I was wearing a nappy at that moment and often did when I planned a long day out that might (ha-ha) involve drinking a copious amount.

About that.

I wear a nappy occasionally, perhaps more than I’d like to admit but let me tell you why.

When I was ten mum had a bit of a breakdown. Not a nervous breakdown, or at least I don’t think it was, but one Friday I came home from school and mum announced that from that moment on I was being returned to wearing nappies. I was shocked but, as it had been just mum and me since dad up and left us when I was three, I rarely argued with her on any subject.

However, on this occasion I had to ask “Why?”

“Well sweetheart, I just can’t bear the thought of you growing up and leaving me...”

“But mum, erm, I....”

“So, I want my sweet baby boy back and I’ve already made arrangements.”

“But mum, I don’t want to be put back in nappies, what will my friends say, or Aunt Carole (mum’s sister who was a daily visitor to our home) I don’t want to be seen wearing...”

“No point in arguing sweetheart, I’ve decided and so that’s what will, happen. Come with me and I’ll show you what I mean.”

---

There was no chance to think as she grabbed my hand and all but dragged me upstairs to my room. Nothing too much had changed, or so I thought, but she opened my underwear drawer and there was nothing but disposables laid out. She opened the next drawer down and there were loads of what I thought were towels filling the space.

“What do I want with towels?” I asked innocently but worried.

“They aren’t towels sweetheart, they are your night time terry nappies.” she proudly displayed one as she flapped it out and showed me how it was going to be folded.

4’2” tall and weigh 60pounds at my last doctor’s check two weeks before. I know at the time mum said to the doctor she wondered if I might be a little small for my age but he said it was impossible to say at this stage. However, the doctor asked about the height and weight of my father and told her that I could put on a growth spurt at any moment and not to worry. “These things have a way of sorting themselves out” came her reassuring professional (and medical) words. So, I wore nappies for a further year or two (maybe three) before I was old enough to say “NO” but strangely, once I was out of them I really missed them. It wasn’t until many years later and working and could afford my own that I gratefully slipped back into wearing them. Styles and thickness had changed quite a lot since I was young and it was with some trepidation that I ordered my first batch off the net. The company supplied items for ABDLs and they really were designed to make a person like me feel childish but very happy.

---

Meanwhile, one of our group laughingly suggested that ‘one fine day’ we should hold a teddy bears picnic and bring all out furry friends to meet each other. We all joked about the image it offered. We all pretended it was a great idea but not really what grown men should be engaging in. However, a nervous voice (it was me) began to sing The Teddy Bears Picnic so the thought hit some deep spot in so many people’s psyche that others joyously joined in. I think the group of ‘bears’ standing the corner thought it was about them and also gave voice.

It was a great communal moment and it now looks like we will be taking to the local woods shortly and having a picnic surrounded by our most intimate and loyal fuzzy friends.

Oh, and on another note, my fluffy disposable had lovely little bears wearing nappies printed all over it... they are my favourite and extremely comfy to have near me... just like Jerry, my teddy bear.

Jerry

~~~~~

What’s your teddy bear called and how long have you been together?

~~~~

[You know what you've done. 1 - 14]

Thanks everyone... glad that Robbie's situation is ticking some boxes and we'll see by the end if his parent's action has proved to be successful.

As always, thanks for reading the story and for all your comments.

THANKS

Les

[You know what you've done. 1 - 14]

The thing is... Robbie knows exactly what he's done, he just doesn't know how much his parents know.

Dirty Boy is painting an innocent lad who is being psychologically bullied by his parents... this is not the case.

They have a way...

OK,OK, OK I'll take over here.

Claire speaking now.

I know my boy is off the rails not because of gossip but because I know my boy's moods and attitude.

He's already apologised for all the things he's done but I know for certain that there is something else that he isn't (or dare not) admit to.

In law he's still only a child so my husband and I think he should be reminded of that fact on a daily basis and rather than subject him to anything physical we think that wearing a nappy is a good way of making that point.

Now, you may not like it but the fact that it is working means we seem to be getting our loving son back and that is the prime result we are looking for.

We just couldn't let him continue in the direction he and his school mates were heading, however, we have no control over them but our son is our responsibility and I repeat, him wearing a nappy is working so...

OK Les... you can go back to what you were saying but just remember... I know my son and I'll do whatever it takes to have him back as he used to be - thoughtful, loving and honest - I don't think that is the wrong way to go about things.

Well, thank you Claire, not sure that sorted anything out but... I've not got any more to say except... thanks for all your comments... and of course yours too Claire... and hope there's more to come.

Hugs to you all

Les

 

[You know what you've done. 1 - 14]

Part 6

“Sweetheart, we’ve been through this far too many times. We’ve told you that nappies will stay until we feel you know and understand what you’ve done... and why putting you back in them is necessary.” Again mum was knocking it back to Robbie to acknowledge his part in why he was wearing padding in the first place. “Now your father and I have seen a tremendous improvement from you but, and I have to say this is down to you, you have yet to understand why these are necessary.”

She indicated the pack of disposables, the powder, the anti-rash lotion and the plastic pants she was unloading from the case.

“But mum, dad, please... I don’t know what this is...” Mum just smiled and waved a fresh disposable in the air so he knew that his argument wasn’t going anywhere. He’d put up some resistance and argued his case but, as had happened every time he’d done so, his resolve met nothing but gentle understanding, joyful encouragement and the simple fact he would be wearing a nappy.

His mum gave him a stern look. “We are here to have a lovely holiday for two weeks but, and this is the final time I intend telling you Robbie, you’ll be wearing a nappy until we say otherwise. Any further arguments and I can promise you... that’s all you’ll be allowed to wear for the rest of the vacation.... understand?”

He wasn’t anticipating this level of determination now they were on holiday and expected his mum and dad to be more understanding but this threat knocked him for six.  How could he spend any time in such a lovely and busy place dressed only in a nappy? He could of course simply say “No” and see how far that got him but, and this was what was central to his thought process, he’d already said certain things wouldn’t happen... and yet they had and the proof was his thick padding.

Then there was – THWACK! He was simply scared of being physically hurt and that thought always made him more amenable. He felt defeated but knew nothing he could say would change things... so simply nodded he understood.

“Good boy,” his mum tenderly stroked his arm.

There was no doubt that in the last few days in particular his stridency whilst complaining had diminished to almost negligible amounts. It was just a token spat and one, as always that would make no difference to his underwear regime.

However, there was also another ‘fact’ and that was, as far as his parents were concerned, whilst wearing padding Robbie looked less scary. Perhaps it had never occurred to him (although his mother doubted it) but the clothes he chose before being returned to his padded look made him appear forbidding and aggressive. Now, with his padded bum and the slinky rounded silhouette it offered, plus his delightful if slightly ‘younger’ outfit, he looked like a lovely boy who wasn’t out to enrage.

Since nappies were reinstated Robbie had barely noticed his hostility towards his parents slowly slipping away. Because the extra padding made such a difference movement was more considered. The language he used had softened as had the tone, whilst the clothing he now wore, although it appeared childish, in fact, presented a more acceptable version of him to everyone else. The influence of the gang had diminished, whilst the authority of mum and dad had returned.

He didn’t want to accept any of it but found it hard to refute the simple fact that he had done some bad things that his parents probably knew about. One of the things that made it difficult to protest any stronger these days was the guilt that stopped him from any angry or forceful protest against the situation. Of course he wanted to rebel but the unknown, as well as the anxiety of a nervous twelve-year-old, was keeping him in check. To validate this ‘non-reaction’ he’d visualised that it would all be over any time soon.

THWACK! - Then of course there was always that all pervasive belief (a violent and dreadful belief) that stopped him from being too confrontational.

He may have assumed that as a nearly-teen he’d earned his independence but the simple fact was, he was reliant on his parents for everything. The problem now was - did he spoil the holiday by over-reacting or try and enjoy what was on offer with the restriction he’d have to wear padding the entire time. His choices were limited as he had no money of his own so really needed his parents to provide all things needed whilst away.

This was something else that naïvely he’d simply not thought about. He had a few savings in a bank account but didn’t think about withdrawing any of it so he could spend his money on things he wanted. His parents hadn’t suggested it and it had never occurred to him it might be a good idea. He’d simply become totally reliant on mum and dad to make all the decisions, even if he didn’t agree with them all.

They had more or less already made that decision for him and he could either accept it on their terms or try and negotiate a different outcome, which, on every occasion so far had proved unsuccessful.

~

There had been opportunities. At the beginning his parents had left sheets of paper and pens around for him to list the things he thought he was being punished for. Alas, he’d not taken such an option because he didn’t want to admit to anything in case they didn’t know about it. It was quite the quandary and whilst he continued to mull it over, he had to wear a nappy, which frankly suited his parents much better.

He had apologised for ‘whatever’ it was he’d done a thousand times, except it was all so generic, and as his parents saw it, he hadn’t admitted to any ‘real crimes’. They of course were playing a game of their own choosing and one Robbie hadn’t caught on to at all. They actually had no real idea of the all the things their son had actually done. They just knew, by his attitude, school reports and neighbourly gossip, that he must have been (or was) up to something. They were just pushing his situation to the limit to see what he would eventually confess to and acknowledge his part in; thus, by his own deeds, bringing about his present padded position.

This was quite a fiendish ploy by them, which in all honesty, they weren’t sure they could pull off. The job they thought would be the hardest, to get him into wearing a nappy in the first place, had proved a lot simpler than they had anticipated. Now he was wearing one, and had been for a couple of weeks, there was no doubt that, as far as they were concerned, he behaved much more like the son they envisaged. He may not have been aware of it but his nappy, and the new, more traditional look, gave him a sweet boyish charm that had been absent for the last year or so.

His parents had missed that nice young lad, who’d been usurped by a thoughtless and trouble-making teen, so, in the end had decided to do something radical to change things. They hadn’t realised that his childlike acceptance to wearing a nappy at the start had only been because he thought it would all be over after a couple of days. Conversely, he didn’t realise, once they had him wearing one he wasn’t coming out of it anytime soon. The addition of a nappy to their son’s wardrobe and the complete loss of any underwear alternative, had proved quite successful. There had been no let-up in mum or dad’s insistence he stayed wearing nappies nor any lack of positive comments when he used them. It’s instant benefits made Claire at times wonder if he wasn’t actually far more comfortable wearing a nappy than he let on. She was wrong but it didn’t stop her thinking in such terms.

There had been another threat, a more subtle threat and one that had only recently sunk in. It had been made when Robbie was tearfully coming to terms with his choice of nappying up for the holiday or going to granny’s whilst his parents were away. That was, his conduct on holiday would decide whether he spent the rest of his summer break at granny’s or at home. There was absolutely no way he wanted to be sent to granny’s place for any amount of time.

Granny wasn’t the most awful person in the world but she liked things done her way. She wasn’t the type to indulge her grandson, or anyone else for that matter, so he knew, anytime spent with her would be on her terms. If mum had said that nappies were to be his underwear, then that’s what he’d be wearing... no argument. If that was going to be the case he might as well accept his parent’s decisions and avoid that amount of extra upset.

“Look, we’re here to have a lovely vacation but, as we said right at the beginning Robbie, a nappy is going to be part of the process” She flapped it out. “You also agreed that there would be no more arguments and you’d do as you’re told... are you going back on that promise?”

Robbie realised that if he went back on it that would prove he was untrustworthy and had learned nothing. If he wanted this punishment to end then he’d just have to suffer it until his parents either got tired of it all or, in some magical way, he found out what it was he needed to confess.

He stood and wriggled his body as a tot would trying to make a decision. It was a childish move but one his mother noticed and smiled. He may not have realised it but his actions and reactions to certain situations were getting more childlike.

Nonetheless, his mother was proud of him that at least he was thinking before acting, and thankfully these days, getting that decision right by not arguing. Once wearing a nappy Robbie was less likely to act up as those days had long since gone to be replaced by an acquiescent and well-mannered young man... well, boy actually.

At the back of her mind mum thought, because all this had fallen into place with relative ease, and the furtive look that often passed across his brow, maybe her son had been involved in something he’d rather not discuss or admit to. Was the reason he preferred nappies because to admit to his real ‘crimes’ would be just to shameful? It was a thought.

There was a moment where he and mum were just looking at each other trying to gauge just what the other’s next move might be but dad appeared from the bedroom so it was time to hit the pool. At that same moment Robbie’s mind went where it so often went when deliberating about wearing a nappy.

THWACK!

With dad appearing, and for the briefest of moments, Robbie was terrified because he was arguing, he’d come to deliver those scary slaps that had invaded his head. Thankfully he saw dad was actually looking remarkably cool, younger than normal in his shorts and colourful open shirt and eager for the pool but mum would also need to get ready.

THWACK!

It was like a ‘warning light’ - his brain was reminding him of the consequences if he continued to quarrel so that was a response definitely to be avoided. The ‘danger signal’ wasn’t there all the time but when it did swoop into his head he found it very worrying and real.

“Mum, if I’m going swimming surely I don’t need a disposable as well?” He asked hopefully.

His father nodded to his wife in a rare moment of agreement with his son and in that look it was decided - no disposable.

“Well, I was wondering how that was going to work but... if we agree no nappy whilst swimming then I don’t want you complaining when you will be wearing protection... and that’s at all other times... agreed?” She said with some finality.

A reprise. Robbie was so surprised that he instantly agreed to the rest of what his mother insisted. He wasn’t listening because he couldn’t believe she’d consented; it was a strange euphoria that made him quite giddy.

~

She had been wondering how a nappy under the tight rubber neoprene shorts would work having been assured online that it was possible, surely it would just absorb any water? She also wondered if she might not have been better just bringing his school swimming Speedos or that sweet little pair of nylon trunks with the fish all over them she almost bought. But the decision was made because she understood the neoprene shorts were constructed to hold any incontinence moments. She assumed he’d be able to wear a disposable under them though in reality, that just wasn’t going to be practical. Anyway, the calculation had been made and with the agreement in place that he’ll wear one at all other times, she acquiesced.

Quickly seizing this opportunity Robbie’s brain switched gear and nodded enthusiastically, so simply let mum pull up the ‘weird’ swimwear. It was a new and different material and one he’d never experienced before but the rubber felt awkward compared to the ‘cool’ baggy cotton surfer shorts he had hoped to wear. His mind was on the thought that he’d be spending a great deal of time in just his new swimming trunks so there wouldn’t be any need to wear a nappy. Therefore, hopefully things were more likely to get back to as they used to be as the holiday progressed.

However, it did feel a little strange; after being so long wearing a nappy the cushiony softness was now replaced by a sort of rough rubbery fabric that nudged at his genitals and not in a nice way. Still, he’d make the most of this brief touch of freedom and hope for more concessions further down the track.

There was no denying the fact that his mum thought the new trunks looked cute with their pale blue front, dark blue seat and lovely thick yellow cuffs and waistband (to prevent any loss of faecal matter so she’d been informed). She had thought that would be enough to keep him watertight and a nappy safely dry behind the material but was prepared, on this occasion, to give him this little bit of leeway.

She would be watching him like a hawk to make sure he didn’t slip back into any of his troublesome ways. If he complained at all then he’d be returned to wearing a nappy full time.

There was a bit of tugging and smoothing them out but in the end, although he hated having to wear anything but his own ‘cool’ swim shorts, he was pool ready as he was allowed to be. Whilst it still felt quite bulky and a bit odd, it didn’t look that way as the new rubbery trunks nicely flattered his slim figure.  

Once he was ready mum looked pleased at the result, because they were made for someone younger, having robust cuffs and waistband in different colours but he fitted into them just fine. “There, all set for the pool... you look quite the swimmer sweetheart.” She was going to add her usual warning but instead just smiled her reassurance.

However disappointed he was at wearing another thing that wasn’t his, that thought was overshadowed by the realisation that this was the first time, since that first day of Summer Break, he wasn’t wearing a nappy. He thought (and hoped) that at his age he’d have some independence but all that had been taken away and he was being kept on a tight leash. However, this was a start and one Robbie hoped to capitalise on. His mother thought differently.  

Since the nappies had been introduced he’d hardly done anything without at least one of his parents being around. That’s the way they wanted it to be. Also, the fact that since his nappies started and he’d had his phone taken away and access to games restricted, he wasn’t in communication with any of his mates so had no idea what was going on in their lives either. It seemed that apart from actually feeding him his meals, everything else was supervised... just like a toddler... and wearing a nappy only added to that general sentiment.

~

“Just me now,” mum smiled and did a little curtsy, “I’ll be ready in a jiffy so you guys just find something to do for a few minutes.”

Claire disappeared into their bedroom whilst Robbie and his father ventured out onto the balcony.

“Isn’t this great,” dad said as he admired the panoramic view. “I wasn’t expecting it to be this good but...wow... this is fantastic.”

Robbie couldn’t disagree and saw that down by the pool there were some empty sun loungers.

“Maybe we could grab a couple of those,” he said pointing them out. “The pool looks very inviting, if a little crowded.”

“Well it certainly looks and sounds noisy down there,” dad smiled, “but what’s a holiday for if you can’t scream your head off when you’re excited.”

“Oh dad, you’re not going to scream once in the water are you?” His son gave him a sly look but was he really being given permission to let himself go.

“Who knows?” He teased looking down at the crowds splashing about below, “it might be too cold... but it does look refreshing.”

“Dad,” Robbie looked like he was going to ask something very important. In fact, he was going to try and convince his father that it was time to put an end to this nappy business but suddenly thought better of it. “You look so much younger wearing shorts.” He smiled when he saw his dad burst into an appreciative chuckle.

Dad knew there had been a swerve in the conversation but was also thankful that Robbie didn’t bring up the subject he was going to. To dad that would have meant, even after the last couple of weeks wearing a nappy, he hadn’t learned anything. He didn’t want to have to remind him that any dissension from wearing nappies meant he’d wear only nappies from that point on. It was a real threat but one he hoped not to have to put it into practice.

He gave his son a reassuring hug.

~

Just before the holiday Thomas had taken Robbie to the barbers and had told the man what cut to give him. Normally, this would have been another incursion into his perceived independence, which initially he would have complained about. But, sitting in the chair, feeling the thick padding under his bum, was correct in assuming that it was not the time or place to cause a fuss. Although it saw the end of his rather messy, thick brown hair, being replaced by a smart shorter, more ‘respectable’ cut, his dad saw it as a sort of bonding ritual, like they had when he was younger.

Back when his son was just starting school he’d taken him to the barbers for his first ‘proper’ haircut and from that moment on, until the last year or so, that had become a sort of tradition, where dad accompanied him to the barbers - often getting their hair cut at the same time.  When he reached eleven and became a ‘senior’ at his school and suddenly got involved with the ‘gang’ all that stopped. That link was broken, much to his dad’s disappointment because it was something just between the two of them, which Thomas regarded as special.

He was so happy when, after the last barber’s visit, that link had been restored and hoped his son felt the same way – a special dad and son moment. Perhaps oddly, despite his initial adverse feelings, Robbie was happy to have this little tradition back – the haircut wasn’t bad either. It was nice to be hugged by his dad and seeing pride in the man’s eyes. Whether either were aware of it or not – it wouldn’t have happened had Robbie not been returned to wearing a nice thick nappy.

Out on the balcony, enjoying the first taste of their holiday, that closeness had not evaporated. Without realising it, Robbie was thriving within the new, re-connected, relationship with his parents. Despite the added protection he didn’t see how much life had improved and although at times the positivity and love seemed to overwhelm him, it was certainly better than the previous months of lies and deceit. He hadn’t comprehended just how anxious those last twelve months or so had made him and it had all been his own doing.

Surprisingly mum was ready in her blue one piece bathing suit, wide-brimmed hat and a light flowery wrap in record time. She also had a huge bag with towels, suntan lotion and other items she might need. Also, wrapped in a special bag was Robbie’s soaked disposable, which she would bin after a word with receptionist as where was best to do so. She would also ask if they had a special bin for the room and was annoyed with herself for not asking when they booked in. Still, there was plenty of time to get that little addition to the room organised.

“C’mon then, let’s get going,” and the trio set off for the lifts to take them down to the pool.

The mood had certainly become joyful and although well aware of the uncool thing he was wearing Robbie didn’t seem overly bothered by his new swimming trunks.

Both mum and dad thought he looked cute and couldn’t resist patting his rubber encased bottom (like they did every time he was changed into a fresh clean nappy) and smiling as he tried not to react but there was no doubt, he was excited now they were at the hotel and about to go for a swim.

The holiday had officially begun.

~

It was early afternoon and the sun had reached the balmy mid-eighties so the pool was a very popular place to cool off. Kids and grown-ups of all shapes and sizes were jumping, running, swimming, screaming, floating - the place was a vibrant arena of colour and noise. There were three pools in total, one of which, a shallow circular pool, was specifically for little kids, which was rammed packed. However, the ‘littles’ were even in the bigger pools wearing inflated arm bands or held up in rubber rings. Some of the smaller kids and babies didn’t look too sure but were being gently encouraged to enjoy the water by parents or older siblings.

Despite his new swimwear, and the really odd feeling of having something missing, Robbie was quite relieved to not be wearing a nappy. He hoped that this little change to his current undies regime would be the start of a more ‘sensible’ approach from his parents, even though he’d agreed to return to the childish underwear once the poolside fun had finished. However, he assumed that if he didn’t ruin the current playful and fun atmosphere being on holiday created, there may be a way back to normal undies without too much delay, or at least he hoped that would be the case. However, the very real sensation that something was missing seemed to puzzle him.

Surprisingly, straight away they found a couple of loungers with an umbrella where they set up shop. Claire reached into her large bag and produced a couple of towels, which she lay out across the plastic. Thomas removed his shirt and, compared to some of the other men his age poolside, although very manly, in comparison looked very pale indeed. However, she was quite proud that, unlike a lot of the other, pink, red and well-tanned men around the pool, he hadn’t got a wobbly belly. Mum took a couple of posed photos of her ‘boys’ with her phone, whilst they tentatively encouraged each other to be the first to jump in.

For Claire, the last few weeks had been quite intense; trying to keep her son wearing nappies, keeping up the appearance of the normality of that situation whilst dealing with the stress that organising a holiday can in itself produce. There was always going to be a bit of tension about how she and Thomas were dealing with things but now settled on a lounger, thought she could relax a little at least.

Those first of many holiday photos joined the countless others she had taken whilst documenting (and continued to record) her son’s progress under his ‘nappy routine’. From those initial weepy eyes and padded bottom and the surprise to find himself wearing a nappy in the first place, to watching him unobserved, as she recorded innocent play with various toys. Of course during the process there had been some tremendous tantrums and arguments but, and this was the main thrust, Claire had seen a remarkable change in her son and one she regarded as positive.

One day, maybe soon (or maybe not), she’ll show Robbie her catalogue of images and videos of how she and her hubby claimed him back. She’d been painstaking in her recording of these developments. Often leaving her phone propped up and just documenting all that happened. Robbie wasn’t aware of what she was doing so it was all ‘natural’. A twelve-year-old wearing a nappy may seem cruel and unnatural but, as she scrutinised some of the more recent photographs, there was undoubtedly a more accepting expression from her boy. A couple of times she’d captured changing his messy nappy and him hardly reacting as she wiped him clean, rubbed in lotion and sprinkled on baby powder before pinning on thick padding and pulling up translucent plastic pants. He’d stand there for a moment whilst she smoothed out the contours and pressed out excess air, then with a final pat on his slinky bottom, off he’d go to play or find something else to occupy his time.

There was definitely something evangelical about Claire’s attitude. The more she pampered and powdered him, the more certain she was that he would come to see just how much good she was doing. Running alongside that there was a strange dichotomy going on in her head, never mind her son’s. She was, at the same time, very protective of his vulnerability but yet liked it if people knew her boy was wearing nappies. Subconsciously (or not), she’d made sure all his clothes, although smart, could reveal what was underneath if he didn’t take care of his posture. Glimpses of his padding as he sat or stood or ran were always a possibility and she was surprised that so few people noticed. Of course she always told him that no one would notice but it continued to fill her with delight when she discovered each unintended childish display.

Before all this it had been difficult for Claire to take the loss of her pre-teen son to others (his gang) or the simple fact he was getting older and drifting away but had been determined to intervene in that. She had become extreme in her efforts to get him back, and not only get him back but have that pride she always felt because he was such a sweet and polite child. As Thomas saw the changes in his son he began to think that nappies had served their purpose so were no longer needed. However, Claire was adamant that it was the simple fact he was back in nappies that had led to this incredible turnaround in their son. She pointed out that despite everything, he’d decided he’d rather wear a nappy then confess to his ‘misdeeds’ and that this form of punishment was getting results so saw no reason to change what they were doing. Her strength of character meant she wasn’t prepared to let go anytime soon and that resolve made her hubby follow her lead.

She was hoping that this holiday would cement his acceptance of the situation once and for all. These days she was less bothered about those ‘crimes’ and ‘anti-social’ things he’d done at school or with his gang – he was now back to being her sweet, adorable boy, and she loved him all the more for being so. She believed wholeheartedly that he would want the things he once had - the unreserved love, the constant attention, the closeness and contact that a genuinely loving family had. She had come to believe (and be obsessed by) what they were doing was for the absolute best and was also certain that he would, given those loving parameters, want the same.

Although at times she’d seen distress in her son’s eyes, she hoped that it was just a process, a way for him to get to the point where she assumed he was now... acquiescence. Alas, she didn’t know that in Robbie’s head there were many things he had to deal with; dread of being found out wearing nappies, the fear of being strapped or physically hurt (THWACK!) and the terror of his real offence being discovered Each and every one were all part of the actual motivation behind his reluctant acceptance of the situation.

Being twelve meant he wasn’t worldly or sophisticated enough to ignore or rationalise many of the dire thoughts that crept into his head. He’d felt grown up and in control when he had the gang around, but now, as things had turned out, not so much. All these things connected and as became clear, although he may not have liked it, wearing a nappy was the least of those problems. In fact, whilst he wore a nappy his parents were attentive and complimentary, although there were various restrictions that meant he couldn’t be a normal lad his age. However, knowing how much his parents cared about him had made a difference. He hated that it had taken him wearing protection to appreciate that point but could see the drift apart had been totally caused by him in the first place. So, that was yet another thing to add to all the other stuff he had to cope with going on in his brain - guilt about not loving and valuing his family enough.

Separately, mum was very positive and had begun to think that she might be able to publish an online article, including photo and video evidence, on how they successfully won their son back from the ‘edge’. Spurred on by similar articles she’d read online from other parents of difficult teens, she was confident others would gain from her family’s experience. Though of the opinion that they were over the worst and from now on it was just a matter of Robbie accepting the current, loving situation, she knew that her job was by no means complete. This part of the process was all very tentative but she did want to know how others would react.

~

Looking over at her two boys (as she mentally called her hubby and son) they looked like they had immediately slipped into ‘fun time’ and were goading each other into getting in the water first.

“Look,” said dad, “there’s a few kiddies floating about... so it can’t be that cold.”

It was true, in fact there were all ages engaged in using the cooling water for a variety of activities. Despite knowing he wanted to keep on the good side of dad the temptation was just too much – so, when he wasn’t looking Robbie stole an opportunity and stealthily crept up behind and pushed him in. It was a most undignified entrance as dad surfaced gasping for air and looking around to find the culprit who’d quite sensibly dived in and was now surfacing at the other side of the pool away from his father’s possible reprisals.

Claire was giggling because she’d seen the whole thing develop and enjoyed the look of surprise her hubby had on his face as he emerged spluttering. She also wondered if the fact he’d not been wearing a nappy had made Robbie a bit more self-confident and thus might be defeating what they’d built up. Or was it just the normal actions of a twelve-year-old boy having fun on holiday?

However, she’d noticed that Robbie was chuckling like a naughty school boy as he pushed dad in but there was no hint of revenge.

She patted her large bag that lay beside her in the full knowledge that there were several disposables ready should she feel that Robbie needed to recommence his nappy routine. He had been warned on more than one occasion in the past and it still applied even here, that if he stepped out of line, she’d change him in full public view.

~

The pool was quite cool but after the heat and sweat of travel came as a welcome relief. The neoprene shorts felt weird and apart from one little kid being held in the kiddie pool by his mother, he was the only one wearing such swimwear. He hoped, amongst the variety of swimwear, it wouldn’t set him too much apart and not make him look like he needed ‘special pants’ to go swimming in. He was also trying to work out how anyone could wear a disposable under the neoprene because it was quite tight.

Just as he was contemplating his predicament another boy around his age swam up and started chatting... in German.

“Erm, sorry, Je ne parle pas... erm...” he realised that speaking French was also no good because that was all he knew. “I don’t speak... ermm”

“Ah Inglish, yes?” The blond boy with amazingly clear blue eyes seemed happy to try out his English.”

“Mmm, yes, sorry...”

Robbie was intrigued as to how a lad from a foreign country could speak English so well, which of course made it easier for him but still... it was a pretty useful ability to have.

“You speak English goothhh,” he said as a wave of cold pool water splashed into his mouth.

He coughed and tried to regain his composure. “I’m Robbie,” he announced, whilst the German boy admitted to Karl.

“As I was saying, you speak English pretty well.” He said as he shivered slightly still getting used to the cool water.

“We learn Inglish at school and most of the music I like is in Inglish so... we learn all the time.” Karl explained with confidence. “I like to speak Inglish.”

“Well, you speak it better than most of the people I know,” He smiled at his attempt at a complement to his new friend. “I’m afraid I only know... well... you heard the little bit of French and even that I wasn’t sure of...”

Karl smiled and asked if Robbie had been to this place before.

“No, this is our first time visiting Portugal, we’re in that room up there.” And pointed out the top floor and where they were staying.

“Your view must be amazing, yes?” Robbie nodded proudly as Karl continued, “We are on the fifth floor but we can see the pool and the palm trees along the beach.”

“Well, it’s just me, mum and dad up there... who are you with?”

“Ah, mutter, farter (Robbie smiled at this pronunciation) and my sister Anna and brotter, erm brother Leo. He’s over there in the little pool in the yellow shorts.”

Robbie searched the kiddie pool where Karl was pointing and noticed a young, very lovely, blonde girl helping a small blond child in billowing yellow shorts, wearing orange armbands learn to swim.

“Is that your sister with him?” He said with more than a hint of desire, which probably wasn’t the correct way to speak about someone on first meeting. “Erm, she looks, erm, ummm, happy.” He was lost for words.

Karl nodded but missed his new friend’s lustful undertone. His sister was a stunning, almost sixteen-year-old, who was fast becoming a beautiful and shapely young woman.

Before he could embarrass himself further Robbie suggested that they swim over to the other side of the pool where there were other boys chucking a ball around and hoping to join in the fun.

As Robbie swam next to his friend his new and slightly uncomfortable rubberised shorts were hiding his youthful, inappropriate and quite involuntary excited shame.

~

He wouldn’t admit to anyone but the same thing happened with the hotel receptionist. However, his thick damp nappy held a well-covered semi-aroused penis awkwardly so it couldn’t react properly. Thankfully, it had only happened a couple of times when his mum had changed him and she took no notice, pushing it down as she pinned him tightly into the fresh padding. Having said that, access with the padding and tight plastic pants had made things difficult when it did happen and he could do very little about it. He was finding the whole, growing up, having urges and wearing a nappy, very frustrating.

Meanwhile, he tried to distract himself by joining in the game but, every time he looked over to the kiddie pool, she was there, looking gorgeous, laughing and splashing around with her little brother. He envied that small boy.

Excitingly, it was almost like they’d been friends for ages as Robbie and Karl got involved with the ever-growing group of like-minded kids chucking a ball around. It reminded Robbie of back being in a gang.

~

The Gang – Throughout his primary schooling Robbie was happy just to plod along. He did quite well in class and loved playing games, especially football and rugby where he was in both school teams. In the final junior year things changed because he became infatuated with one of the school’s ‘bad boys’ Mally.

Because they were in different classes up until that year Robbie and Mally had very little contact with each other. Of course he knew of Mally, everyone did, but oddly, for a school that size, their paths just never seem to have crossed. Mally’s only interest seemed in being a bully and as disruptive as possible, whereas Robbie was engrossed in sport. However, one day, when Year 6 were having lunch, Robbie’s cheese and tomato sandwiches had been smeared with Marmite, something he detested. The problem was down to dad who loved that mix and had that morning been on sandwich-making duty and had forgotten his son’s dislike of such a heady flavour.

As he wasn’t going to eat them, and he didn’t want to throw them away, he simply asked if anyone fancied taking them off his hands. When Mally, who had no food for lunch, heard the call he was quickly in demanding them.

“No, take them you’ll be doing me a favour,” Robbie pushed them towards the school bully. The place had gone silent (like it does in all the best school movies) as this little scene played out. They expected Mally to make a scene and ridicule or threaten Robbie, instead he pulled up a chair and ate the lot. After, and feeling quite full, he nodded to his benefactor and to everyone’s surprise chatted amiably to each other.

Mally, even for such a young lad, was a rough and edgy individual who didn’t make or seek friends, so this was an event that had the entire school watching – from a distance. However, the chat was nothing spectacular but it had caught Robbie unaware and found himself captivated by the impact a lad barely two months older than him had on the rest of the school.

Mally had appreciated the food and the extra juice a beguiled Robbie also let him have, finished their conversation by complimenting Robbie on scoring the goal that had won the school a recent inter-schools game.

“Thanks, but it’s all down to the team.” He demurred casually. “You can’t score a goal without your team.”

Mally eyed him for a few seconds. “Mmmm, you might be right... come and meet my ‘team’.”

After that, they were firm, if unlikely, friends and to Robbie’s surprise he discovered that, by association, he was feared, respected but became eager to prove himself to his new found mates.

It was perhaps unusual for a boy Mally’s age to have such power but, there was no doubt about it, he was looked on with awe by the other kids in the playground and with complete annoyance by the teachers.

That was the start of Robbie’s decline in attitude both in the classroom and at home.

Mally, Iggy and Ponty (from school), later he met Joe, Zeger and Tom (from a different school but the same troubled neighbourhood as the others) none of them were from Robbie’s side of town. In fact, for the most, they thought him a geeky swotty twat but, because of Mally and his leadership in all things, was eventually accepted into the gang but pressured continually to prove himself worthy.

Robbie was totally smitten by Mally but only finally accepted by all when he, as an eleven-year-old schoolboy (and wearing his uniform) faced the ultimate challenge. To the total disbelief of the others he not only accepted the dare but scarily (even for those watching) took it to an exceedingly high level. It was a stupid and reckless thing to do, and not without consequences, which the rest of the gang couldn’t believe. He’d passed the test leaving the small group of twelve-year-olds stunned but alas, not without a guilty conscience that Robbie found difficult to shake off.

The gang knew what he’d ‘accomplished’ but no one else.

“What happens in the gang stays in the gang,” Mally had intimidated.

Ashamedly, and bearing more guilt than any twelve-year-old could be expected to manage, Robbie kept schtum.

~

It was really nice for Robbie to be back mixing with other kids, as for the last couple of weeks wearing a nappy, he’d kept more or less to himself.

Karl was good company and after they’d joined in the game with a bunch of other excited and noisy kids they swam off to chat more about their mutual interest, football. Karl supported his hometown team called Mainz in the Bundesliga, a team Robbie knew nothing about, whilst he was a keen supporter of Liverpool FC, who Karl did know about and said they were his “...favourite Inglish team.” Because of that alone it meant they were already firm friends and again Robbie was impressed by the knowledge his new friend had about the English Premiership.

~

In the meantime, back at the sun-loungers Claire rubbed in some Factor30 into her hubby’s pale skin and left him to relax in the sun whilst she went to reception to ask about a ‘nappy disposable’ bin. Relieved that it was the same girl who’d booked them in, and knowing she spoke pretty good English, Claire tentatively asked if they had such a thing.

“Yes, no problem,” the receptionist smiled, “we can have one taken to your room. It will be there when you return.”

“Oh, thank you, erm, Gracias... sorry... I mean obrigada”

She nodded, “If you need anything please just ask and we’ll do our best,” she spoke in flawless English but with that lovely friendly Portuguese accent. “There is a pharmacy in the next street if you need anything further for you son.”

“Ah, good to know, erm, obrigada again... um... how did you know they were for my son?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you...”

“No, no, no you didn’t embarrass me I just wondered what...”

She indicated around her waist “I noticed his, ummm, fraldas, ummm full nappy? when I fastened his wristband. Sorry.”

“No don’t apologise, he has to wear one so no harm done. While I’m here, what exactly does his wristband allow him to do?”

“Ahh, the green and white means he has access to soft drinks and can attend any Under 12s event – like supervised games time from 10am through to noon every morning in the play area, although it is open all day for them but afraid it’s not supervised then. Or he can attend the Junior Disco for the Under 12s, that’s a fun thing to do. It has volunteers supervising every Monday and Friday usually from 2pm to 4pm but sometimes we run it earlier if there is an event in the evening that needs to be set up. Activities and times are posted daily on the noticeboard”.

She looked behind her and reached for a leaflet with all the information on it.

“Sorry you should have had one of these in your info pack...” she handed it to her, “It gives you all you need to know about the different coloured wristbands and to what they give access.”

Claire wasn’t being dumb, she knew when they booked that they had different tariffs if you wanted All-In, Half Board, Breakfast or Room Only but there were other facilities and activities that were available which could be paid for in advance. That’s where the different coloured wristbands came into use, indicating what you could access without having to explain every time.

“Oh yes, thank, erm thanks, erm, I think we might have this already I just hadn’t got around to reading everything yet... there seems so much to do here.”

“Yes,” the receptionist beamed, “it’s a lovely town and there is Festa tomorrow night down in the old harbour with fireworks, which I’m sure you son will enjoy.”

“Mmmm, a festa... fiesta?” she said taking another proffered leaflet, “I’m sure he will, erm, thank you for these,” and waved the leaflets at her, “and thank, erm, obrigada for organising an extra bin.”

Claire was quite relieved she didn’t have to explain too much about why her twelve-year-old son was wearing a nappy but was strangely pleased that the receptionist had noticed. The disposable she’d just got rid of was in fact very full and wondered if the poor girl had caught an unintended whiff of his pee when she’d fastened the wristband on but was too polite to mention it. She was pleased that she remembered that obrigada was Portuguese for ‘thanks’ but it was also the only Portuguese word she knew.

She also wondered if the girl had thought Robbie was under ten, which tickled her a bit but wasn’t going to dissuade her if she did. She intended for him to enjoy ALL the facilities that the Atlantico had to offer and that included the supervised games and play area.

Since returning Robbie to nappies Claire’s mind (and not for the first time) had gone in a slightly different direction. Of course she thought hubby and her were doing the right thing but also saw it as the opportunity for a new start. Her head had been filled with a multitude of possibilities, which would slide into her deliberations and become the main inspiration, only for it to be replaced by what could be an even better one. She hoped that whichever one (or two or three) she settled on would be to everyone’s benefit.

In the last couple of weeks, and perhaps unintentionally, she’d thought of Robbie as much younger than his real age. Because of his juvenile padding it had happened almost organically - that having her son thought of as younger than he actually was made her feel younger herself. None of this had been in their plans and although Thomas was unaware of his wife’s current frame of mind, it made her smile as a she slipped effortlessly into that role of appearing to be a ‘young mother’.

The receptionist smiled warmly as Claire, with a spring in her step, headed back to the pool. As she sauntered through the large marble atrium she wondered if the girl was the only one who’d noticed Robbie’s padding or if there were others who’d observed the smartly dressed young English boy arrive packing padding?

There was a ‘help yourself’ kiosk offering cool drinks just inside the large glass doors of reception and thought it would be a good idea to grab a few bottles of water and juice on their way back up to their room. She took a quick peek and was delighted at the selection on offer.

Making it back to poolside with her head full of these considerations she found Thomas fast asleep on the lounger but their son nowhere to be seen.

# tbc #

[You know what you've done. 1 - 14]

Thanks guys I always appreciate any and all feed back.

Please stay with Robbie and his family because there's a great deal more for him to discover about himself.

😊

[You know what you've done. 1 - 14]

Unfortunately, yours is not the path these parents have decided to take.

They have a son, a child who, as far as they're concerned needs to be reminded that is just what he is.

What could be more emphatic to push that point than being made to wear a nappy?

It may not be the best idea but it's one they've decided on.

Hugs

[You know what you've done. 1 - 14]

Part 5

It was 5am when Robbie was awakened from deep sleep and urged to get up. He’d been very excited the night before and it had taken him quite some time to drop off so was still very sleepy when mum came to rouse him.

She threw back his bedding to make sure he was fully awake and noticed, from the heavy urine smell, that as usual he’d soaked his nappy but had yet to mess it. Meanwhile, Robbie hoped he’d wake up dry just to prove a point but alas no. Over the past few nights he’d wet only when awake, he wanted to be in control, but, well, it took him a moment to register his damp condition, and, as his mum encouraged him to get out of bed, found himself humbled. The willpower he wanted to exhibit was just an illusion. He hoped (if that was the correct word), that the sogginess was down to being overly stimulated about this holiday and not that he was now a true bed-wetter.

The truth, which he was trying to deny, was that now he had to wear a nappy all the time, and use it, he’d begun to do so without much thought. He hated it, the bulky damp material bunching up between his legs, but had to admit that his parents were very attentive and wasn’t left for too long in a waterlogged state. However, even if it wasn’t instantly changed, the weight of a sopping wet nappy was even more of a reminder that he was in fact, as his mother would often remind him, a ‘naughty boy’ who was being punished.

Still, at 5am he was a bit groggy but knew they had to be at the airport a few hours earlier than departure to get through checks and passport control and the taxi to take them there had been booked for 6am.

“It’s okay love,” his mother saw his disappointment but tried to soothe him, “the nappy takes care of these things, so no harm done.” She gave a comforting smile whilst also stroking his head reassuringly. From that first day when he’d been returned to wearing a nappy to his now strange acceptance of his situation, Claire had known exactly how she wanted her son to be and how he should dress. The way Robbie’s plastic pants molded themselves around his soaked nappy producing a slick and shiny cover had never lessened being a lovely sight to her. It meant the cover was doing its job by protecting the bed from any leaks and keeping her boy’s padding in place. There was nothing about such a sight that she didn’t find endearing.

He felt he’d let himself down, as if the world had conspired to make him less of a twelve-year-old and more of a ‘tweeny’. Tears, which in the recent past wouldn’t have been far away, were no more - just a simple sniff of recognition to what had happened and let mum get on with the job. 

He wasn’t too sure why this one wet morning, against so many previous wet mornings, had affected him to such an extent, but it had. Possibly that as they were about to depart for Portugal, he hoped that the use of such juvenile underwear would no longer be the case.

“You see sweetheart,” she ran her hands over the slinky plastic, “a nappy is a good thing for such occasions so, even when you’re least expecting it, it can come to the rescue. Now, have a quick shower and I’ll be waiting when you get back... don’t worry love, we have this covered.” As usual mum was putting a positive spin on it, but it missed the target.

Disappointedly he made his way to the bathroom, threw the heavy soaked terry fabric into the sink and eased himself under the warm spray. Whilst in the area mum claimed the sopping material and took it off to soak, she didn’t want to leave a smelly nappy lying around for the couple of weeks they’d be away.

~

Perhaps in this day and age, and possibly counterintuitively, Claire had loved her growing boy being back in nappies. She liked all the extra work and enjoyed the smell of freshly washed terry cloth nappies she’d dried out on the washing line. The clear plastic pants were thick, crinkly, effective and durable but now craved a bit of colour in her, and therefore, her boy’s life. An occasional colourful cover would soon form part of his nappy regime... and the festive spirit of the holiday seemed a perfect time to start.

Robbie knew none of that and a few minutes later, refreshed and feeling a little better (he’d sneakily used the toilet for a quick dump whilst mum was busy) he arrived back at his bedroom to find she was waiting with travel clothes already set out. She guessed he would have used the toilet but it was really a ruse to save time, she still had his ‘underwear’ covered. To his irritation there appeared to be a disposable and pair of pale blue plastic pants waiting for him.

“Oh mum,” he moaned and pointed accusingly, “surely I don’t have to wear those to travel in....”

“Well why not sweetheart?” She asked knowing that a twelve-year old’s tantrum was about to become a reality. “The journey can be long, with queues and possible delays, you’ll be glad of some protection I can assure you.”

It’s not like airports don’t have toilets he thought but decided to say nothing because...

“But, but...” He was desperately trying to act like a proper teenager who didn’t need a nappy but... THWACK!... his mind had other thoughts. It was weird because as soon as he thought about protesting that mental image of physical punishment sent it scattering and all he could ‘feel’ was the phantom blow on his bare posterior.

“Haven’t you just used your nappy?” His mother asked pleasantly trying to reinforce the fact as nicely as possible that since wearing a nappy it had proved useful on several occasions.

This was where the two didn’t see eye-to-eye; she thought they helped him when he peed (lovely protection), he thought if he wasn’t made to wear a nappy then he wouldn’t be peeing in it.

Like Robbie knew from the beginning, they didn’t accept the fact it was their fault for returning him to wearing a nappy. This, as they reiterated time after time, was all down to him.

“You continue to believe that none of this is because of what you’ve done,” she’d shake her head, “but until you accept your responsibility, and acknowledge the reasons why this is all your fault, you’ll simply stay wearing your lovely padding.”

He knew where any such argument was going but even so, didn’t want to wear any padding on holiday. Somehow she made him doubt that this wasn’t normal so therefore it was perfectly common for him to be wearing such thick insulation.  

“Muuumm,” he whined, “when will I be out of this...?”

She just shook her head and smiled whilst flapping out the disposable to let air get into it. These days, for her at least, keeping her boy padded was the most natural thing in the world.

Whilst she was doing that, instead of the usual compliant boy, the twelve-year-old with attitude raised his head for old time’s sake and was determined that this should all finish NOW.

“Mum, I’m not wearing one of those whilst we’re away... it’ll be too hot and... and...” seizing an opportunity, “I thought you were dead against disposables for ecological reasons... seems that...”

“Oh love,” she shook her head as if the poor boy hadn’t grasped anything, “these are for your benefit to travel in. Less bulk and less obvious but, if you prefer the nice thick fabric ones I’m sure I can accommodate your preference.”

The way she seemed so concerned left him a bit confused – did she really think that he preferred to wear a thick fabric nappy?

“Er, oh, ermmm, well, ummm...” He dithered; he really didn’t want to wear a nappy at the start of the holiday.

She listened to his stuttering argument, whilst at the same time gently manipulating and stretching the small flat object as it became much larger and a more substantial item for him but nowhere near the size of a fabric nappy.

“Well love, we’re on a tight schedule and you can get ready now and do as you’re told or... we can go without you.”

A sulky Robbie was shocked at her immediate reply and certainly didn’t want to miss his vacation but nor did he want to wear padding to travel in. Thinking he could win this by telling her to leave him on his own was a bad move. She called his bluff.

“So, you’re not coming then?” She wanted confirmation.

“No, not if I have to wear them...” he said folding his arms and nodding in the direction of the expanded disposable and plastic pants. He was unsure if this was the right track to take but he’d started down that road and didn’t feel he could turn back.

“Okay then” and she picked up her phone, “I’ll just call granny and you can stay with her whilst we’re gone. I’ll let her know about the nappy rule so you’ll be wearing them there whilst we’re away no matter what. Also, she has things around the house that need doing so you can help with them as well. Ah, morning mother...”

~

He knew from past experience that granny was firm but not fair, demanding and didn’t suffer children’s moods very well at all. A couple of weeks in her care would not have been a holiday or much fun so immediately grabbed the hated object from his mother’s hand and acquiesced to her instructions.

“Ah, just to say our farewells and remind you we’ll be gone for two weeks so, if you could pop in occasionally and check for post and stuff that would be ideal.”

Robbie didn’t hear the conversation from his granny’s side because he was already being lotioned and powdered.

In just a few moments a defeated and totally submissive Robbie was wearing a lovely comfortable disposable; the more absorbent but lighter material taped tightly in place. Because of his little ‘rebellion’ she added an extra soaker pad to make it thicker and, having done so thought the new blue plastic pants looked even better stretched as they were; very shiny and appealing to the eye if they were to be seen. Although she didn’t want to embarrass her son just for the sake of it, she thought they looked splendid but pulled up a sensible pair of pale blue thigh-length shorts to cover them. If he had to wear shorts, he would have preferred knee length like his beach shorts. Alas, though he didn’t know it yet, all his mother packed were thigh length and shorter shorts. However, despite his initial resistance, there was no denying that her boy was now well-padded so he’d just have to cope.

He stood in front of his mum like a thoroughly chastised naughty little boy. She thought he looked adorable wearing just his disposable and plastic pants, whilst his sulky, defeated demeanour added the final touch. She couldn’t get over how he’d gone from a verbose and annoying pre-teen to a slightly timid and compliant little kiddie. She knew she had the advantage so wanted to make sure he knew it as well.

“Now Robbie, I don’t want to go through this every time so, are we clear that you’ll do and wear what we request without further argument?” She waited for him to nod but it took some time for it to percolate through that once he agreed there would be no going back. “The plan is for a lovely, relaxing holiday for all of us and we don’t need you to be belligerent or fussy. If that’s you plan think again. I need to hear you say you’ll do as we say... or you can go and stay with granny.”

THWACK! It was just the thought of granny applying the strap, which he knew she’d have no problem with. Hesitantly but with that awful mental image he felt he had little choice, so finally submitted “Yes mum, I’ll do as I’m told.”

“Good boy and the correct decision. We didn’t want to leave you behind because we think this will be good for you... for all of us.” She ruffled his damp hair and sent him off to comb it back into place. “Now then, the padding is guaranteed to absorb more than your fabric protection so, we shouldn’t need to change you as often.” She patted his freshly nappied bum and gave him a smile that radiated warmth and pride, which for a second Robbie felt quite pleased to receive.

Once again she just thought he looked so damned adorable.

~

Claire had been most insistent when she helped him dress that he should wear what she decided. He didn’t know why she’d chosen, what he felt was a fairly juvenile outfit; the short, thigh-length blue shorts and matching polo shirt and light zippy-up jacket but the thought of being forced to stay at grandma’s house made him hold his tongue. His mother had simply said that he looked very handsome and “summery” and of course his parents dressed smartly as well. After all, they were equally excited about the trip.

“This is the first time since you were a baby that we’ve taken a holiday abroad so we want to look our best.” She’d said taking great care in getting him ready. “You look fantastic,” she added checking how the padding looked, whilst brushing his shoulders of any imaginary fluff, “a credit to us all.”

Despite these fine words Robbie was still a bit gloomy. There was no way in a month of Sundays, as a nearly teen, he’d ever want to wear what he was forced into now. Not that there was anything fundamentally wrong it was just ‘uncool’ even if it was something ‘summery’. However, the fact that it was almost time to leave – dad going through the check list to make sure everything was accounted for - the excitement of the trip was now real.

The taxi beeped its horn.

He had packed his case the night before and was all set to make the most of this holiday in the sun and the anticipation built another notch. So, despite having to wear a bulky disposable he didn’t put up any further argument. Besides, over the past few days he’d been on his best behaviour and his parent’s attitude had certainly been positive, so maybe, this was the final test before they got to their destination.

~

Without further comment they were able to be on their way to the airport on time. Astonishingly, throughout the taxi ride he thought the new disposable felt less intrusive and much more comfy than the fabric ones he’d had to get used to over the last couple of weeks.

They drove past a church that had a sign outside that offered – TEA AND A LISTENING EAR – and wondered if the place got many lads his age in discussing wearing a nappy? His thoughts ranged over a few topics as the taxi moved closer to their destination. His hand absentmindedly rubbing the subtle mound in the front of his shorts.

Of course he wasn’t totally happy, and, once they arrived at the airport, the knowledge of what he was wearing made him overly self-conscious, especially his slight shuffle as he pulled his wheelie luggage through to the check-in desk.

The place was packed but thankfully the checking–in line wasn’t too long. However, there were other kids booking in, excitedly and noisily scrutineering fellow travellers. Most were casually dressed, whilst few others were as smart as his little group. He searched around the huge busy and noisy departure lounge but could see no one, not even anyone younger than him, dressed like he was. He thought he looked like an eight-year-old schoolboy, whilst mum and dad just glowed with pride (partly that was because that’s exactly what he did look like and they were more than happy with that image).

There had been times since his return to wearing nappies, that his anxiety levels had left him with a rapidly beating heart and bizarrely bowel and bladder problems. The fact mum and dad were so positive had meant he was able to relax, even when he knew he should be horrified at what he’d become.

The constant “You’ve brought this on yourself” had made an impact and at times he believed it and so accepted his juvenile position. Sometime his unintended acceptance of the situation was swamped by his need to rebel but then the usual worry about everything would kick in and he was back to another anxiety attack. These were causing more pee-spurts than he realised, so he had a damp nappy, even if he wasn’t yet aware of that fact.

However, now he was away from home and travelling to a foreign country and surrounded by loads of happy, carefree people got him thinking. The fact that even if no one else knew, he knew that under his shorts there was childish padding and pair of rustling plastic pants, made him feel like he was just a little kid. Whether he liked it or not his parents approved of this look and kept up a barrage of compliments, which eventually began to please and relax Robbie as they moved through the airport. Their constant praise (and gentle reinforcement) relieved some of his anxiety and was therefore quite grateful for it.

“You look very smart son,” his dad smiled his comment, “we like this new look very much... it suits you.”

Strangely, and forgetting he thought he looked like an eight-year-old, because it was his father who’d said it, he felt particularly thrilled with the spontaneous praise and blushed. He caught sight of his reflection in a window and did a re-take – perhaps, all things considered, it didn’t look as bad as he at first thought.

~

Most of the clothes he’d packed included his favourite t-shirts with Death Rap singer’s lyrics, violent imagery or rude words all over them, which mum had decided were not welcome on this trip. This was going to be a lovely family holiday so she’d invested in a completely different wardrobe; a chance to reclaim their son and give him a different, more pleasing appearance.

The new clothes she’d bought were perhaps a little less ‘teenage cool” than she’d thought they were in the shop. Needless to say Robbie hadn’t been on that particular shopping expedition with Claire figuring he wouldn’t be able to complain if he had no options. The wheelie case he’d brought to the airport had, unknown by him, been emptied of all the clothes he’d packed - with an eye to being one of the ‘cool kids with attitude’ when they went anywhere. Alas it had all been replaced by a new set of his mother’s choosing. Also, something else he didn’t know was that in the case was an initial pack of colourful disposables that she intended for him to wear whenever they went anywhere apart from the beach. His favourite baggie beach shorts had also been replaced with a colourful neoprene swim shorts, which if he wanted to go in the pool, sea or on the beach he’d have to wear. There was room for a nappy under them. There was also a rubber sheet (just in case) and, because he’d complained that it felt like his packed nappy was occasionally falling down, a couple of short colourful onesies to help hold his padding in place. All this was going to be a surprise for Robbie once they were at the resort.

Prior to departure Claire had done her research and checked out what local pharmacies and supermarkets carried by way of youth-sized disposables and was happy to see that her preferences could be accommodated. However, there had been a sale online where she bought some disposables and thick fleecy nappies for the future (unbeknownst to Robbie) and was pleased that they’d included a couple of free packs of colourful plastic pants, which she included in his case. So, all in all, was happy that she had most eventualities covered.

Claire hadn’t admitted it to her husband but she was enjoying this treatment of their son more than expected. Seeing him now becoming a polite, smart boy with a nice haircut and no attitude had made him, because of the smooth lines of his nappy, appear much younger than he was. She was determined that they were enjoying the benefits of what could be done if you took the time to parent your kid properly. Maybe it took a bit of effort but thought it worthwhile.

~

For the moment, and completely oblivious of all this, and with his parent’s obvious good spirits and constant gestures of approval (he had been warned that any temper tantrums or arguments would mean he’d spend the entire holiday wearing just a nappy so that everyone would know his secret) he decided to make the best of the circumstances and try to enjoy the experience of air travel.

As mum had pointed out he’d been on a plane before but was only a baby so didn’t remember anything about it. He failed to see the absurdity that then, as now, he was wearing a nappy. However, try as he might to remain ‘cool’ he was quite excited about flying and found the entire process fascinating.  Animatedly, he stood at the large picture window that looked out over the runway and loved seeing all the planes, in their different livery, coming and going. He couldn’t wait to board himself and hoped he’d have a window seat. 

His mother appreciated just how enthusiastic he was watching all the comings and goings and actually saw him jumping up and down with excitement like a little kid when a particularly large aircraft pulled up close to the window. This became undeniable when she looked further along the window and noticed a little six-year-old, wearing jeans and a t-shirt that had a Simba cub on the front, who was acting in exactly the same unfettered way.

Seeing the two reacting in such a similar way made her chuckle and feel that maybe getting her sweet little boy back was not going to be as difficult as at first she and her hubby imagined it might be. She loved Robbie’s current playful, excitable nature and only hoped it wasn’t caused purely by the excitement of the airport. She had no trouble at all letting him be childish whilst he wore his nappy. In fact, she wondered if she could extend that response simply by encouraging that juvenile side of his hopefully developing youthful spirit.

Under the guise of checking her phone she recorded his excitement, it was another wonderful image to commit to the memory bank, as well as the rapidly growing video and photo folder.

“Is this ours?” He called out to her, eyes wide at the prospect.

“Afraid not sweetie, that’s a long-haul flight ours is a smaller plane but...” he looked disappointedly back to the plane but his mother noticed that his shorts had rode up and the edge of his shiny blue plastic pants could be seen.

She zoomed in for a moment.

Claire’s heart bubbled over with love and approval. With those little peaks of plastic, his nappy nicely rounding the contours of his shorts, in his current state Robbie had never been more endearing.

It was one of the “Aaahhhs” in appreciation moments – she thought how innocently adorable he appeared - but not wishing any embarrassment called him over and covertly pulled at his shorts to cover things up. She caressed his padded bum, it was an act that she’d enjoyed since first putting him back into nappies, then whispered what a good boy he was being.

The way he dressed was very important to her. The clothes and stance he’d adopted prior to being returned to wearing nappies always seemed to carry some sort of threat. Anger, disdain, hate and violence, even if alien to Robbie, was etched onto the messages of his preferred clothing. She was definite that would end and so, this new, mummy approved clothing was thought more appropriate.

Meanwhile, he seemed to miss the reference to being ‘a good boy’ or else he was just so used to being treated as he was the words didn’t seem out of place. In fact, this was very much what his parents were hoping for - although in truth it was Claire who was now the driving force to get him into a phase of being happy and reliant on them, appreciating all they did, whilst he maintained a sweet, juvenile attitude and appearance.

There had been many similar occasions when, because he’d simply forgotten about or got used to wearing them, his padding was really quite noticeable. The waistband of his plastic pants might end up on show after he’d been crawling around whilst at play, or his expanded padded bulge became apparent as he sat down unaware that such soggy padding made it that bit more evident. These moments, when he just was ‘unworldly little Robbie’ were what she wanted, and so far - so good - and had it on camera to prove it.

Of course, at the same time she was also secretly checking if he needed a change because in her tote bag there were a couple of disposables, just in case. There was little or no expansion to his padding so, he seemed fine and was so engaged in what was going on around him hadn’t spotted the unobtrusive inspection she’d just made. Nevertheless, she’d chosen this style of disposable because of its capacity and knew, with the extra soaker pad, that if he did pee, then it was able to soak up a great deal before a replacement would be needed. It would expand, and his shorts would get a good deal tighter but knew that at least there’d be no leaks, of this she was sure.

Whilst waiting for their flight dad had been to the café and returned with two coffees and a couple of cartons of juice for Robbie. They hadn’t had much chance of breakfast before they left so the bacon rolls he also brought back were hungrily devoured.

As a family they cut quite a tableau. Whereas most other families wore casual clothing, were a bit noisy and a bit ‘common’, they on the other hand, looked like they’d been hired to simply improve the image of the budget airline they were travelling with. However, they did get loads of smiles and nods of approval from some of the older travellers.

Perhaps weirdly Robbie was sitting content in his nappy – it was thick yet comfortable and, apart from the more rounded areas at the front and seat of his shorts, hardly showed at all. The padding making sitting around on those inexplicably uncomfortable airport chairs a little more pleasant.

~

Once on-board, Robbie took the window seat next to mum, whilst dad had the aisle seat. Meanwhile, the twelve-year-old was oddly enthusiastic about the prospect of take-off and as the plane built up speed down the runway, felt himself peeing in excitement - the two orange juices he’d drunk prior to boarding making a hasty exit. It was only when the ‘ping’ of the seat belt sign went out that he realised what he’d done and felt the nappy soak up and expand slightly. He sat staring out of the window, even though the clouds had obliterated any chance of seeing the ground pass by. Meanwhile, hoped mum hadn’t noticed what he’d done or could tell by his hot-flushed face that his comfy disposable might need changing.

As the flight progressed Robbie was encouraged to drink plenty of bottled water ‘to prevent dehydration’ and soon found that too was filtering through his system fairly quickly and depositing itself in the swelling material.

He wasn’t sure about how much the new disposable could hold but, as it was still quite comfortable and mum had said it would absorb more than his normal fabric ones, decided not to bother his parents. In the interim, they were deeply engaged in chatting to an older couple sitting across the gangway, so, settled back down to gazing at the patchy cloud and bits of visible land they were flying over. It was quite interesting as he wondered just where they were on their three hour journey.

The plane was quite full and he was amazed at how much went on with people walking up and down the aisle, the food and drink cart that trundled slowly past, the noisy announcements offering not only food but alcohol and gifts... oh, and lottery tickets. He checked the inflight mag and saw the strange array of items available to buy – on a plane six miles up in the sky – amazing.

There were groups and families on the flight and everyone seemed happy and excited, well that’s what Robbie thought but wished he’d been allowed to bring his mobile so he could listen to some music instead of his fellow passengers. He engrossed himself with the various holiday articles in the In Flight magazine.

“Are you wet sweetie?” His mother whispered later in the journey as she noticed the tightness at the front of his shorts and the slightly bulging plastic was visible as his shorts had ridden up and was evident down the leg.

Ashamed that he’d happily wet because it was less trouble but not wanting to lie he nodded.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, these are very good at absorbing loads of liquid and the plastic panties should hold everything in,” she said reassuringly tapping the bulge, “so you should be OK until we get past passport control.”

The thought of waddling his way through a foreign airport didn’t appeal but there again, neither did being accompanied to the plane’s little toilet to be changed by mum. Besides, there was always a queue and he definitely didn’t want to join that – he was content where he was, pressed up against the window, all very private. He smiled weakly, “No problem... I can wait” The soft rustling sound of his plastic pants as he wriggled himself into a more comfortable position was another noise that his mother had become delighted to hear.

Despite her conversations with fellow passengers Claire couldn’t help but feel for her son. Of course it had been a huge shock to him but now he was in nappies, she still thought it was what he needed. As he tried to catch up on some sleep, huddled against the plane’s window, she thought how delightful he’d become once away from those negative influences. A tear briefly came to her eye as she noticed him wriggle and once again heard the rustle of his plastic pants, the top of which appeared slightly above his waistband, all very innocent, and very child-like. What was even nicer was the way his hand gently rested on the now obvious bulge as if caressing a ‘cuddly friend’.

With each passing day Claire became more and more focused on making sure Robbie didn’t lose any of his newly found (and unexpected) juvenile behaviour. He may not have noticed it but mum had and liked what she saw. Her mind, as it seemed to do on a regular basis these days, skipped back to when he was a toddler and the hours they spent just having fun together. Every day was an adventure, every game a giggle and hugs. Dad was at work so it was only the two of them, so, when he came home at night the joy they both had showing him just what they’d been up to. They were a very closeknit, loving little family and she was determined that feeling should never leave them again. Good kid gone bad, gone good again was what she wanted. Claire had been staring at him dozing and had come to the same conclusion she had once he was back wearing a nappy - her little boy had never looked more loveable and was very grateful for that fact.

~

Even though it had expanded quite significantly Robbie thought the disposable was still more comfortable to wear than the fabric nappies he wore at home. His mother had guaranteed that his tight blue plastic pants, with the thick elastic leg and waist bands, would contain any leakage and for the first time he saw the benefits of wearing a disposable. It had saved him the fuss of getting up, wobbling his way to the rear of the plane and going to the loo, with mum carrying her bag, everyone would know what was going on. The entire process would have been a bigger undertaking had he still been wearing fabric nappies. However, although total appreciation of this ‘special underwear’ was a long way off, his mum had been right - a nappy, and in this case his padded disposable, did solve some problems.

Although that thought was in his head he still didn’t want to wear a nappy and was desperately hoping that after this flight and once at their villa things would somehow return to normality. What he didn’t know was that his parents were very happy with things as they were. As far as they were concerned he’d chosen wearing nappies over admitting to his multitude of transgressions. That was fine by them; his behaviour was most certainly better, he dressed smarter and, on a personal note, he looked so sweet when kitted out in a nappy.

With no dubious friends to influence him, and under mum and dad’s nappy control, Robbie may not have been aware of just what a difference he now presented to the world. He may have thought he looked like a little kid, though that was mainly down to the guilt he felt knowing he had padding on under his shorts. The truth was what mum had bought him had certainly made him look younger (that was true) but also clean cut, which couldn’t be said for a lot of his fellow young passengers.

Throughout the flight she wondered if any of the other parents had padded up their offspring to save going to the toilet but judging by the queue outside the plane’s facilities, perhaps not.

When she’d got Robbie ready for the journey that morning, and after the minor tantrum, she took delight in making sure his disposable was thick enough to contain any wetting but also how nice and smooth he looked once his genitals had been suitably encased in padding and plastic. There was something about this aspect that spoke volumes to her – it was as if she no longer needed to worry about him. He may have been twelve but that was no excuse to leave him to his own devises, he was her little boy and now, thankfully, he was protected and safe. She felt a lot more confident knowing this and appreciated that as long as he was suitably safeguarded she could keep him relatively innocent from the more callous aspects of life. This, like so many other positives she envisaged as a result of what they were doing for their son, made her pursue this course of action with even more fervour.

~

Once off the plane and through passport control Claire noticed that the disposable had expanded substantially making Robbie move with a pronounced shuffle. Although he looked cute, and the expansion had contoured to his bum nicely, which meant to the observant it would be obvious he was wearing a nappy, she didn’t want to embarrass him unnecessarily. She asked if he wanted to be changed at the airport or did he think he’d cope until they got their hotel. This came as a shock as he was under the impression they had their own villa.

“We’re staying in a hotel?” He asked suspiciously.

Dad was putting away their paperwork and passports and looking for the baggage area.

“Yes, why do you ask?” She wondered where he thought they were staying.

“I thought we were staying in that private villa we saw on the advert on TV... I’ve been telling everyone that we were staying in a glamorous villa... aren’t we...?”

“Afraid not love, but the hotel is four stars so should be okay...”

“But when the advert was on TV you said that’s where we were staying.” He sounded as if he’d been sold a lie.

“Yes, I may have done because that’s also here in the same holiday location where we’re going...”

“But I thought we’d have our own pool and private...” he sounded so downcast.

“Sorry love but that would have been too expensive for us. However, the deal we’ve got at the Atlantico is pretty good. Breakfast is included and it has three pools and looks directly onto the beach so it’s all there... and has regular entertainment for kids.” She added with delight thinking this would be yet another great selling point.

But he didn’t hear the last few points as he was so disappointed. The image he’d built up in his head was of private hilltop villa (like the one in the TV advert), luxurious surroundings with a private beach that only the hottest girls were allowed on. Instead, he was going to be in the company of hundreds of fellow holidaymakers... it wasn’t going to be the same.

However, once out of the air-conditioned airport and stepping into the sun the heat was more than agreeable and, slipping off his jacket, was glad he was wearing shorts as his father looked absolutely roasting wearing a suit.

~

They eventually found the tour operator’s coach and within twenty-five minutes were on their way to the hotel with a host of other excited vacationers. Whilst waiting for the bus Claire had started talking to another family who just happened to be staying in the same resort. The mum and dad were about the same age as them but had a son who Robbie guessed was about seven or eight. After the holiday rep had given the welcome speech and instructed them as to drop-off procedure they chatted as the coach travelled to their destination. By the time they arrived at the hotel the two families were almost the best of friends... well the mums were.

Although Robbie hadn’t said much Claire was pleased that at least he was friendly enough to the couple’s young son who appeared quite shy. She hoped that the two would team up so that they both had at least one friend they could meet up with. Darren was the boy’s name and looked very hot in the jumper and sweatpants he was wearing. Quite a contrast to the fresh looking, shorts-wearing twelve-year-old he occasionally smiled at. Robbie found it ‘funny’ as that family were dressed for the weather back home and that most of the holidaymakers had come for the sun but were now complaining about it being ‘too hot’. Some of the kids on the coach who were also overdressed and sweating were looking with envy at Robbie as he appeared relatively cool and ready to start his holiday straight away.

Mum wasn’t wrong when they pulled up outside the magnificent entrance to the Atlantico, the place was busy and milling with loads of holiday makers, some so brown it was obvious that they’d been there more than a week. There was plenty of red skin as well and mum reminded Robbie that he needed to keep himself well covered in Factor30 sun-cream. As they queued at reception to get their room allocated, mum started chatting to yet another family who’d arrived on a different coach. That mum was trying to control three kids: a five year old, a seven year old and a pushchair with a toddler in it. Apparently her hubby had made his way to the bar for a ‘quick pint’ whilst she did all the booking in. She looked completely frazzled and in definite need of a holiday. Claire secretly whispered to Thomas that he better not get any ideas. He smiled, shrugged and then it was their turn at the desk.

After an exchange of passports and the relative documents they were given an information pack about the hotel, local restaurants and attractions. They were also given wristbands that allowed free access to various amenities and events the hotel held throughout their stay.

Mum and dad had blue wristbands whilst Robbie had a green and white stripy one, which the gorgeous young female receptionist, who smiled and had fastened it on for him, whispered that particular colour was for special guests and got the bearer into the best fun parts of the hotel. They also meant they could access some food – snacks mainly, and drink for ‘free’ throughout the day. Mum and dad’s allowed alcohol in that offer, whilst Robbie’s green and white stripy wristband meant he could have soft drinks and bottled water any time he wanted. It would also give him entry to the kids disco that operated at different times during the week, though he wasn’t told that at the time.

“Here are two keycards for your room. I hope you enjoy everything that The Atlantico offers, please, if you have any questions do not hesitate to ask one of the staff,” said the attractive young receptionist with a smile and wished them a nice stay.

For the first time, in a long time, Robbie blushed – she was so pretty and her sexy ‘foreign’ accent only added to her desirability. As far as he was concerned she’d smiled at him and only him, which must mean she fancied him. His blushing twelve-year-old ego made him forget about his full nappy, although she watched and shook her head from side to side in a telling way as he waddled off to the elevators. She thought what an adorable shy little boy he was, then turned her attention to the next guest booking in.

~

The room was on the twelfth and top floor, it consisted of a living room/dining area with fridge and electric kettle and off to the side a large double bedroom, the bathroom and toilet were off from that. The sofa in the living room pulled out to make a third bed, which Robbie was cheerfully informed would be where he’d be sleeping. He was disappointed that he didn’t have a bedroom to himself; however, the chief selling point was the incredible view. The large balcony would easily fit a family of four, with loungers, and looked down on the pool area, which was packed, and out onto the beautiful blue Atlantic Ocean. He may have been upset about not living in a villa, but this was a premium position and was quite awe-struck. Unfortunately once again, poor Robbie felt an excited and unanticipated spurt of pee enter his already very soaked padded disposable.

“First things first,” Claire said to Thomas, “You unpack, whilst I get Robbie into a fresh nappy... poor guy must be waterlogged.”

He could feel the warmth from his latest unexpected emission and became aware of his full nappy, which oddly he’d completely forgotten he was wearing since seeing the attractive receptionist. However, now he was conscious of it he wanted all this nappying to stop, after all, they were on holiday.

“Mum, dad, please,” he began to plead, “can’t we just call it a day on all this, this stuff...” But mum had already started pulling down his shorts and he’d got so used to her taking charge that he didn’t even try to escape her motherly attention. He knew making a huge fuss wouldn’t get him anywhere but hoped that by complying they would take pity on him. Alas, this wasn’t the time.

“Mum, pleeaaassseeee,” he was begging for some understanding. “I’ve been good, I’ve worn the nappy and crapped and peed in the thing... don’t you think that’s enough now. Can’t we get back to normal? I promise I’ll be good.” He sounded whiney and desperate. “I’ll be that good little boy you want... only please let me out of having to wear any more of these.” He grabbed at the bulging, wet padding.

Taking little notice of his plea Claire pulled down his blue plastic pants and noticed that the disposable was absolutely sodden and still quite warm so knew he’d only just peed in it. She was really quite pleased he’d used it and judging by how much it had absorbed, had done so on a number of occasions. So, despite him not wanting to wear it at the outset of the journey it had proved useful.

“Look love,” she pulled at the tapes, “this looks like it’s saved you from constantly going to the toilet and thankfully everything has been kept where it should be... in your nappy.” She chuckled as she pulled the bulky wet package away and left him all but naked. “Now then, let’s get you wiped and powdered and then you’ll be ready for a little look around this place.”

The total lack of a positive response from mum meant there was little point in pursuing that line of argument but another thought entered his head.

“Erm, errr, can’t we go down to the pool or beach, it’s very hot and we can cool down with a splash about?” Robbie felt the first of many wipes slither over his privates. He knew this was totally embarrassing for a lad of his age to have to suffer such indignity but, his mum was very loving, very encouraging and incredibly gentle. She took her time and made sure every bit of the area was clean.

“Sorry love, I thought the best thing to do first is get our bearings with a bit of a wander around but,” she looked over to her husband, “would you prefer a dip first?”

Thomas looked very sweaty and agreed that a dip was just what he needed and they could wander along the sea front and investigate the resort when the sun dropped and it got a little cooler. So, it was decided, the pool would be the next destination.

~

Excitedly, and with no thought to the fact he was naked from the waist down he dashed over to his case and unzipped it. He was astonished to see none of the things he’d packed were there, not even his black and red baggy surf shorts, which he hoped he’d be spending most of the holiday wearing. Instead, amongst an entirely new set of summer clothes was a pair of blue and yellow neoprene shorts which he’d never seen before.

“Mum,” he looked at her as if she’d just pulled a nasty trick on him, “what the hel..., erm, is all this?”

“Language son,” dad called from the bedroom as he shucked off his suit with relief and retrieved a pair of navy blue thigh length swim shorts.

“Well love, erm, uuummm, I hate to say it but most of the clothes you picked were not very pleasant. Rude words, ghastly images and looked filthy...” Claire shrugged.

“Mum they’re clean it’s just stuff I like,” he looked crestfallen. “Isn’t there anything of mine in here?” He peered disappointingly whilst sorting through what was there. “I can’t wear any of this, it’s, it’s....” he thought ‘juvenile’ but stopped himself from saying so. “It’s not my style.” He was angry and upset but also knew that he had no choice but to put up with whatever his parents had decided.

Ever cheerful Claire smiled as she emptied his case and put all the new clothes on a stack of shelves next to the sofa. It didn’t take long as there wasn’t that much (she had packed a few extra appropriate things in her case as there wasn’t a great deal of room in his because of the parcel of disposables) and it was all neatly packed so she could just slide it all onto the empty shelf or into a large nearby drawer.

“You’ll like what we’ve brought... you’ll be fine sweetheart so don’t worry. Mummy has everything covered.” Robbie’s heart sank.

“Mummy?”  Once again he wasn’t happy about that childish reference but decided it was best not to react, so pretended he hadn’t noticed.

What Robbie didn’t know was that there were only shorts in his mum’s selection and that he’d be looking smart as she deemed he should appear when they went out whether he approved or not.

Despite them being his favourite clothes mum had been of the opinion that no one would want to look at a t-shirt with revolting images or rude words depicted whilst having a nice meal in a restaurant. She was equally sure mums and dads wouldn’t want their young offspring subjected to the same on the beach - so it all had to go. Well, that’s how she justified it to her son but in fact, she’d planned his wardrobe well in advance so knew exactly what he’d be wearing – she was in charge and he didn’t get a say. He was their nappy-clad little boy and would be treated in such an ‘understanding’ way. She was pretty pleased with her choices and thought that there was nothing in her selection he could possibly dislike.

The entire ‘holiday collection’ was loose, colourful, whilst the shorts were in different lengths and materials. She’d packed smart going out shorts like the ones he’s worn on the plane, soft polyester and nylon shorts like he wore for football, as well as lovely cotton shorts that were the same type he played rugby in – so nothing he wasn’t used to wearing. The nappy thickness he would be wearing under them would depend on his behaviour... there were plenty of doubler booster pads in her case should he act up.

The anger he would normally have felt wasn’t there just a sense of inevitability because he knew that was just what he would be dressed in, especially when he noticed the large pack of colourful disposables and plastic pants that took up such a major space in the case. Mum opened the pack and took one out - it was purple.

“I thought a bit of colour for our holiday would make a nice change,” She giggled at the prospect. She hoped he’d be as excited as her but saw him shudder so added. “These will go with most of the stuff we have here,” she nodding in the direction of the shelves, “and I suppose it’ll make a change from the boring fabric, eh?” She was hoping that the new colour would increase Robbie’s appreciation of wearing one but alas, judging by the sigh that escaped him, it didn’t have the desired effect.

“Ohh mum... do I have to... can’t I just wear my swim shorts?”

~ tbc ~

[You know what you've done. 1 - 14]

On 4/17/2025 at 2:57 AM, spark said:

I've heard the 12-year-olds are sort of a second toddlerhood, or a second version of the terrible twos.  They quest for independence, but they aren't emotionally ready for it.   At 12, girls are already full-blown brats, and can be miserable to deal with (8th grade girl drama).  At 12, boys are just entering the stage where they want hangout at the mall (or wherever the same place is now) and chase girls, but they still want to play with toys

The question is: does Robbie think he's a bigger deal than he is?   He strikes me a kid who boasts just how bad he his, but in reality- he's not a as tough as he thinks he is.

The thing is, Robbie was way out of his comfort zone when he teamed up with the wrong crowd. As you'll see in future chapters he wanted to be accepted but at what cost?

[You know what you've done. 1 - 14]

On 4/13/2025 at 6:15 PM, spark said:

It sounds like Robbie's parents are keeping him from getting in serious trouble.  It doesn't sound like Robbie was doing routine boy mischief.  It was the mischief that gets attention from the police.

I think, as far as Robbie is concerned, mischief would be an understatement for what he did with the gang.

 

On 4/13/2025 at 10:13 AM, Dirty Boy said:

Robbie should confide in someone, overcome his fears, it is clear that the parents fear being accused of child abuse They too are afraid that the matter will be discovered.

It's too intense for him to even try and argue or confide in anyone.... the wearing of nappies may be awful for him and affect his self-worth but if the truth got out... everything would probably be a lot worse.

On 4/13/2025 at 10:10 PM, maly said:

Thanks for the new chapter.

Maly

My pleasure as always, thanks

 

On 4/14/2025 at 3:16 PM, wetdiaper55 said:

Great chapter , Love reading it ...

Hope you'll enjoy the rest.

 

On 4/14/2025 at 4:17 PM, CDfm said:

This was a great addition. Robbie is clearly adjusting well to his new position.  His attitude and overall behavior has improved a great deal.  I can understand his fear of having the secret of wearing a nappy getting out.  No one wants to feel that kind of humiliation. I do think his parents are doing all they can to maintain his privacy.  I hope to see this continue until Robbie is ready to give up on the gang and their undesirable behaviors. 
I will be looking forward to seeing more. 

He's at that age where defiance is desired but the practicalities, when you rely on parents for everything AND you have a guilty conscience, mean you have to contain that rebellious nature or face the dire consequences.

Hugs to everyone

Les

[You know what you've done. 1 - 14]

Part 4

The days since he was forced back into nappies had seemed to drag on. He’d stopped meeting or calling friends, coming up with excuse after excuse as to why he wasn’t available for the next gang ‘event’. Oddly, when they did call, they didn’t seem that bothered if they saw him or not, they still had each other so Robbie not being around wasn’t a problem. In other circumstances he might have been saddened by this rejection but wearing padding full time made him change his attitude in other ways as well.

He tried his best to alternately argue against his circumstances or sulk - but to no avail - both attitudes were met with love and understanding but were not going to change anything. Because she was around all the time Claire poured more and more love into the situation, continually telling him that everything was as it should be and he shouldn’t worry.

Unfortunately, her day-to-day attitude was confusing, treating him as a toddler one minute and then normally the next. When she changed him (he wasn’t allowed to change himself) she would speak sweetly and slightly babyish to him but once dressed it was more adult... well... not adult exactly but more like it used to be. It seemed that as long as he was wearing a nappy she was happy... and he always wore a nappy.

Because the nappy fit so well Robbie could occasionally forget that he was being punished. When his parents were around he did a physical and mental shrug as if he wasn’t being put out at all. He hoped by his indifference they would think it wasn’t bothering him but of course, they’d seen the many changes in his character so knew it was working.

So, each morning, mum in particular seemed to love releasing him from his heavy messy night time nappy, cleaning him up or sending him for a shower before putting him into his less thick, but no less substantial, daily padding. She just loved the routine of lotion, powder, fleecy nappy pinned expertly on and then the soft crinkle as she pulled up his lovely malleable plastic covers. This would lead her to make a fuss by ensuring the material was all encompassed by the thick plastic cuffs “…to prevent leaks”. She would assure him all was well and pat the lovely shiny smooth bulk in admiration of her work.

Despite his pretend indifference there were creepy concerns he had to get used to, like the way the heaviness of the packaging made him walk. He wondered if the smooth rounded bulge in the seat and front of his shorts that his mother found so endearing, looked a complete giveaway. (He’d tried to find a better alternative to shorts but there was no denying that the different pairs he had hid the thickness better than jeans or trousers, which, with the extra bulk, barely fit any more). He’d complained that it felt heavy and was dragging him down at the back but mum just thought he was imagining it as to her, it all looked fine.

Meanwhile, the strange way it felt, whether tightly pinned on or not, it just felt, well, not exactly uncomfortable but definitely different when he sat down. The padding acting as a buffer between him and whatever he sat on... really weird.

Or the way the plastic pants gripped his thighs or clung securely around his waist making him leakproof. It was taking some getting used to… even though he didn’t want to get used to it.

There were other considerations like the transformation between the thicker night time nappy and the one he wore during the day and how that impacted around his genitals. For one thing it restricted access and at times that was more than a little frustrating.

Sometimes, when he was just moping around the house, it was awkward getting used to the cushiony fabric, whilst the subtle rustle as he moved was a constant reminder, especially as there seemed no end in sight of when it would stop.

Then there was the ‘biggie’ - the fact that he was wetting his nappy more frequently and without his input, it was just happening. Thankfully, because of his mother’s advice, his messy nappy change was concluded at the beginning of the day so, although absolutely disgusting, wasn’t as much of a problem.

All these padded related perceptions, whether he wanted them to or not, were impacting on his senses the entire time, which of course was his parent’s intention - Make the boy think about what he’d done and why he was now wearing nappies!

Their point throughout all this was so he knew he was still only a child and needed to be looked after. They wanted him to be aware of that and his nappy fitted the criteria completely. They continually insisted that it was because of what he’d done he was back wearing nappies so he had only himself to blame.

~

When he’d initially ‘agreed’ to this he was confident of it only lasting a couple of days ‘to teach me a lesson’. Now permanently in them, and with the stipulation he had to use them, the situation was causing him to fear keeping it a secret, which so far, he hoped he’d been able to do pretty well.

To begin with there had been times when he’d wished he could speak to someone about this madness... but to who would he want to admit he wore a nappy? - The gang? Definitely not. His uncles and aunts? No he needed to keep it quiet and doubted they’d be on his side anyway. His grandparents? Again, it was a punishment and they’d probably think he deserved it (in some ways he supposed he did). It was hardly a thing you could go to the police about and besides, the less he had to do with them the better - they might just want to know his secret and that was a definite no-no. His parents had said it was just between the three of them so...

However, the over-riding issue was his dread of being physically beaten, as well as the real thing he was guilty about becoming known. It had absorbed his thoughts ever since being put into that first nappy for over eight years. He’d expected that the punishment would last no more than a day or so and that once that time expired things would return to normal.

Except, everything had become more intense. The level of inspection and control by his parents had risen but so had the amount of loving attention. He hated having to mess in his nappy (thus the thicker nightly padding) and tried to convince them it was unnecessary, but they disagreed. They stayed positive, encouraging and affable so he was finding being moody ineffectual.

“Aw, is our sweet boy having a paddy, mmm? Don’t worry we’re here to change your nappy when you need it.” It wasn’t mocking exactly but there was an inflection that meant he wasn’t persuading anyone.

“Your nappy”, “your nappy”, “your nappy” it was constant. Each reference, or change or, well, any reason at all, both mum and dad were insistent that he knew it was his nappy and the reason why, was because of what he’d done.

He’d held off using his padding for as long as possible but in the end, he still had to go. He found it totally humiliating asking to be changed. Although in those early days his parents would just shove a hand down his pants and check. If he was wet, they simply looked disappointed that he hadn’t said anything and point him towards the changing mat. Strangely, even though they weren’t on show, the fact that there seemed to be nappies within reach and easily available everywhere in the house or in mum’s bag meant he was usually sorted out quite quickly.     

Because of his nappy he didn’t want to go out much although some of his mates (not the school gang) did manage to coerce him out occasionally (usually at the insistence of his parents who didn’t like him just hiding out in the house). Of course, he was more subdued than he’d been in the past but so far had managed to keep the padding a secret. He’d convinced those friends that his current lack of mobility was because he injured himself playing football and had strained a muscle. The explanation seemed to do the trick and deflected any further questions. Of course, had they asked him outright if he wore a nappy then he'd have to admit it... as per his parent's instructions.

However, trips to relatives were a more troublesome factor; he couldn’t get out of any such visit so was on edge the entire time. It made him furtive, off hand and on-guard for the least thing - a suspected knowing look, a misinterpreted comment or laugh. Early on he’d angrily laid into his cousins, who were younger than him because he thought they were laughing at his padding. That wasn’t the case, they were just happy to see their older cousin and have him to play with, but he made them cry and upset a nice family event. He was made to apologise but was furious at having been put into that position in the first place. Although his secret was kept by his parents he still stormed off to sit in the car until it was time to leave.

That did not go down well.

Because he’d acted up, he woke up to find his Play Station removed. As a result of that, and because of further disagreements, his mobile was also confiscated - an action that left him quite devastated. Without his means of communicating with his pals, and all the other access it gave him, he was thrown into having to entertain himself. The fact he didn’t want to meet people whilst wearing a nappy then reduced his circle of friends even further. When he complained about the lack of his console mum simply pointed out that he still had a cupboard full of toys and games he could entertain himself with, “You used to love your LEGO... why not play with that?”

He was seething and tearful but somehow knew that any further outbursts wouldn’t do him any favours. The thing was, without his mobile phone (which he relied on mum and dad paying for) it was like he’d lost a limb... he felt cut off and alone. Although he wouldn’t want any of his friends knowing about - his underwear situation - he did wish he had that contact with the ‘outside world’. He hoped that if he tried to be less argumentative and put up with the embarrassment he now found himself in that he’d eventually win it back. What he was slow to realise was that all these restrictions and penalties were working; his parents were pleased that they were getting results so quickly, so naturally they were encouraged by what they were doing.

~

However, because he’d been ‘naughty’ (as his mother described his nasty outburst and making his cousins cry) he wasn’t allowed to fester at home and was often dragged out in public to do the shopping where, on most occasions, they’d end up bumping into mum’s friends or neighbours. Despite his pleading he simply wasn’t going to be left on his own. The threat (which his parents reminded him about before every outing) of having his nappy checked in public meant he was on his best behaviour, which was noticed by everyone. Some even commented on this but no one knew the reason, they thought he’d just turned over a new leaf. Although desperately resentful and unhappy Robbie was at least (inwardly) grateful that his secret was being kept to within the family... or so he hoped. So, as far as he knew his parents hadn’t made a public thing about him being back wearing protection - so that was something.

Actually, and though he wouldn’t want to admit it, another thing he was grateful for; the back garden wasn’t overlooked, so his mother’s penchant for drying washing on the line meant his freshly laundered nappies and plastic pants remained relatively private. There was yet another bonus, one that he didn’t realise was happening to begin with but, the praise from others about how he looked and his new improved behaviour, was, like positive comments from his parents, embarrassing but also oddly pleasing.

He was always nervous on any trip out that his padding would be obvious under his now regulation shorts. Thankfully the weather was relatively fine and loads of kids his age were wearing shorts of one kind or another, so it wasn’t that bad. Unfortunately, it was difficult to conceal his bulky padding completely and that little ‘nappy shuffle’ he’d adopted was a dead giveaway to anyone in the know. Also, and it was something his mother especially liked to see, often when he sat down the hem of plastic could just be seen down his short’s leg hole. Other parents would nod but thankfully, if they noticed that or the lovely little crinkle his plastic pants made with each movement, they kept their observations to themselves. He may not have been aware but on several of these occasions his mother received knowing wordless smiles of understanding and approval as often the faint aroma of baby powder followed him around.

“Well Robbie, you’re looking very smart these days,” those friends and neighbours would say and he’d stretch to stand up taller than his 4’6” and try to appear older. His mum would beam with pride and pat his slightly bulging shorts and agree that she loved the fact that he’d turned over a new leaf. How many of her friends she was fooling she didn’t know but they all appeared quite supportive.

~

So, for the past couple of weeks his parents had praised him when he used his nappy and took delight in changing it. To his humiliation each morning he was greeted with a lovely soft fabric nappy and a pair of rustling plastic pants to replace the soaked and saggy one he inevitably displayed. He’d quickly slipped into a routine of his parent’s design and, despite the occasional act of attempted defiance, things progressed satisfactorily.

No matter how much he despised the idea he realised that his mother’s advice about filling his nightly nappy ready for a change made sense. He wasn’t going to get out of not using it so he just had to get on with what had been decided. Mercifully, the deed was usually done for the day, and he didn’t have to think about anything other than a damp nappy, which was something else he was disturbingly getting used to.

There was no denying that once cleaned up and wearing fresh padding everything felt better, then it was up to him what he wore. He soon found that his ‘cool’ but ‘rude’ clothes (they were the latest fashion and what his gang mates wore) produced a negative response from his parents so started dressing in clothes that had been hinted at as being more in keeping with what they thought suitable.

At home and when visiting friends or relations, the instruction was he wore shorts and plain t-shirts, polo shirts or jumpers, though, at first, when out with his mates (as mentioned - more so neighbours and not as much the lads from school) he could wear an old ill-fitting pair of jogging pants. He could just about hide his awkward nappy but at least he was grateful he didn’t get any comments. His parents were correct, the heavy weight was a constant reminder of whatever it was he’d done. He could feel the padding all the time so his ventures out to meet up with his friends grew less and less. However, both parents thought he looked a scruff in jogging bottoms, so that’s why they decided it would smart shorts, when out with them... and at home, when he could do without shorts altogether.

“Mum you’re dressing me like a little kid,” he’d try to complain.

“And your point is?” She would answer knowing under his shorts was a thick babyish nappy.

On one occasion, at a café they’d gone to when out shopping, when his drink and sandwich arrived the waitress also put down a place mat with a drawing on it that could be coloured in with the five crayons he was also given. The outburst of anger was quickly subdued when his mum told him to “Thank the nice lady...” but he didn’t have to fill it in if he didn’t want to. The waitress’s smile departed fairly quickly because she thought she was doing a nice thing but Robbie was seething and desperate to show just how much. However, a warning look and that promise of a nappy check if he so much as thought about a tantrum soon saw the anger change to one of anxiety and the moment passed.

A faint, almost childlike, “Thank you miss,” almost passed unheard but the waitress nodded and smiled back at this shy boy who, out with his mummy, looked so cute.

~

With so much going on there was an inevitable change of attitude which, although he may not have noticed, Robbie was beginning to slip into. Of course there were still the occasional sighs, and burgeoning arguments and appeals but they had become less strident and quickly ran out of steam. Or, and this was more likely, Robbie knew he wasn’t getting anywhere with them and were, quite possibly, the reason for the length of time he had to spend dressed in such a way. Despite babies not seemingly bothered about wearing a nappy, Robbie was learning that having one constantly hugging your bits and pieces was not much fun but, and this was a surprise, because he had to wear one, he was sort of getting used to it.

There were many occasions, especially at night or in the morning when he’d just dumped a load in the back of his nappy, that he wondered if it was worth it. Indeed, he’d argue with himself that confessing to his real crime would be beneficial, because if he was sent to prison, at least he wouldn’t have to wear a damn nappy.

However, he’d seen far too many films about what life was like behind bars and, if he was scared of the strap, he was even more scared of that happening. No, that revelation would have to stay locked away. He was sure that they would tire of this stupid nappy business before too long. He’d been surprised as to the length of time already but surely it couldn’t continue indefinitely - could it?

Sometimes, because it was easier for mum to check, he’d be there at home wearing just his nappy and plastic pants. She’d even caught him amusing himself with some of his old toys. Seeing him so absorbed in his imagination like that had to be recorded so she’d whip out her mobile and secretly film him at play.

So, in only a couple of weeks this ‘new and improved’ Robbie who was polite, looked smart and stayed close to mum and dad was the person those outside the family saw. Sometimes, if his nappy was particularly wet or had bunched up, he’d quietly whisper the problem to his mum, and she’d make an excuse and leave to sort him out.

The first time she took him into a baby changing room had been a shock, even more so when there were others waiting to change their babies, but mum simply got on with her task. She didn’t explain or return the strange and intrigued looks; it wasn’t an issue to change her wet boy. He didn’t like other people looking on as his nappy was removed but dared not react in case, he was spanked in public. Having his legs lifted so that some cream could be applied and powder spread about was mortifying but stayed quiet not daring to give away the fact he was not a ‘special needs’ boy. Mum would continue her encouragement and tell him what a “good boy” he was being as she’d pin him tightly into fresh padding and pull up his softly rustling plastic pants. After that, Robbie was more careful with where and when he needed a change.

~

At one point he’d complained that wearing shorts all the time made him look like a little kid, but his parents just reminded him that he spent almost all his life wearing his favourite football kit. That was a red shirt and matching red shorts with team logo splashed all over and had never complained about that, even being proud to support his team by wearing it on trips out or visits to relations. It was the same with his school footy and rugby kit, he’d often wear it around the house. So, what was the difference now he simply had to wear smart shorts and top? He was stumped into silence by their irrefutable rationality.

Of course, there were occasions when he still complained about being treated as a little kid. His mother pointed out that wasn’t true because when he was a tot, he wandered around the house wearing only a nappy, but, if he preferred the simplicity of that she was happy to oblige. It was then he made up his mind that shorts were no problem at all.

Despite all this the holiday to Portugal was upon them though nothing had been said about him still wearing a nappy whilst abroad. He knew that his mother wouldn’t buy disposables for ‘eco’ reasons and doubted very much if she’d pack loads of fabric nappies because of restrictions in the baggage allowance. Also, the laundry bill alone would be astronomical so felt safe with his assessment that the nappy situation would be coming to an end. Not only that but he’d survived the punishment without admitting to anything too drastic or his big guilty secret. So, despite the current nappy, he was feeling quite proud of himself.

The night before the trip was the first early night in ages that he didn’t mind going to bed because he was convinced everything would return to normal when getting ready for their flight.

~

When Claire and Thomas had first come up with the idea of returning their son to wearing a nappy, they thought of it more as a ‘psychological challenge’. They knew there’d be problems and arguments but if they could keep Robbie wondering about the ‘WHY’ and rely on his own inner guilt, they could maintain the upper hand.

The concept was fraught with complications – would he just ignore them or maybe simply not feel guilty about what he’d done? There was absolutely no guarantee that returning their twelve-year-old to nappies would have any effect or not have themselves up on a charge of child cruelty.

For this reason they didn’t put him under ‘house arrest’ he could come and go as he pleased but only if he wore his nappies. They didn’t ban him from seeing friends but knew that wearing a nappy would restrict who he wanted to mix with. Also, with school out, that was one area of concern that they could potentially ignore. Robbie could do what he liked but he would be wearing a nappy whilst doing it. He decided he didn’t want to socialise too much and his parents accepted his decision. So, the more he stayed in their sphere of influence the better they liked it.

Somewhere, in the jumble of words, thoughts and actions, and the Worldwide Web, on certain sites getting a child into nappies was regarded as a possible way of regaining control over that child. Who had decided on this as ‘fact’ was uncertain although Claire was under the impression that the ‘nappy notion’ had come from her thinking back to how things were when Robbie was a toddler, though putting it in perspective, that link seemed a bit vague. The fact that they took such an idea and ran with it to the point that now he was wearing a nappy, and the action was working, they made the decision to continue. So, all in all, who cared where the initial concept came from?

However, they weren’t psychologists or teachers, so why had this particular idea stuck... and why were they so happy about it and eager for it to continue?

Despite these qualms, and for whatever the reason, they did everything with a smile. Even when Robbie was losing some of his privileges, like the Games Console and mobile phone and early nights, they made it so that he knew it was because of things he’d done and not that they were just punishing him for the sake of it. Gentle but unswerving insistence that this was all down to him and his behaviour. The principle was simple – wearing a nappy would be a constant reminder that this situation was down to him and that he’d have to think carefully about everything he did. He was still a child and his parents were doing what they thought was the best for him.

When out in public he didn’t want an unannounced hand down the front of his shorts checking if he was wet or not, so he let them know as soon as it happened. His parents were then very reassuring and full of praise that he’d told them and so it had a positive effect on him... it became less awkward. Robbie feared public humiliation and had quickly learnt that by following mum and dad’s rules his situation was kept between the three of them. However, he was keenly aware that the situation could change and there was nothing to stop either of them announcing to the world he was now their little nappy-wearing toddler. Not surprisingly, and despite such early resistance, that also kept him in check as much as any threat of physical punishment.

The thing was… it was working much better than they could possibly have anticipated. In some ways Claire and Thomas wished they had instituted the idea of nappying their son a lot earlier. Perhaps that would have made him miss his association with the school gang but of course, had that been the case then none of this would have been relevant. Even though they were no nearer a full confession or knowing precisely what he’d been up to, they’d heard the rumours from neighbours, friends and school about the gang’s, and by inclusion their son’s, appalling behaviour. What they had now was a sweetly behaved young lad who was rapidly becoming a credit to them. Nappies, whether Robbie liked them or not, were working.

Although she wouldn’t admit it to her husband Claire had very quickly adopted the approach of treating him more as a juvenile. She loved the way he looked wearing nappies and plastic pants and would have liked to take things further but didn’t. However, his nappies were thick and the covers a substantial, glossy protection smoothing out the bulky cushion. In truth she thought he’d never looked better, even if she’d unintentionally (?) reduced him to a waddling tot.

Robbie wasn’t aware of the change in his behaviour (well apart from not seeing school mates now they were on the summer break), because he thought about everything he did before he did it. The nappy he wore, and his crinkly plastic pants made for each activity needing to be planned. His parents had lovingly advised as to what was acceptable to wear so he had to work within those rules. However, despite not being cheerful about such limitations he’d accepted them remarkably quickly - much to mum and dad’s surprise.

A couple of times, when his mum had changed him and leave him dressed only in a nappy and plastic pants, he’d put on his Death Cult t-shirt or try his baggy red and black Gangsta style shorts but had to agree... it just didn’t look right (no matter how much he wished it did). They may be OK for the beach but for hanging around the house, well, it wasn’t worth upsetting his parents.

Nappy changes were always a happy and affirming affair because both parents didn’t mind how messy he was - it was what their boy needed so it was done with a smile and words of approval. As with every change, Claire enjoyed the process and continued to think her boy had never looked more adorable than when wearing his thickest nappy and the shiniest plastic pants. Repetition, reinforcement and responsibility was hammered home on every occasion but Robbie just didn’t get it, he still thought he was being treated as a little kid and resented that as a twelve-year-old that was the case. Nevertheless, what had started as total embarrassment (and it was only an embarrassment for him because nobody else knew) was now just something he had to put up with.

In fact, in a relatively short space of time (a few days) his parents saw a huge change in their son’s demeanour. He was more attentive and less angry, politeness, which hadn’t been one of his strengths, was beginning to seep through and his general affability was a return to how he used to be before he fell in with the school's bad boys.

He’d lost a great deal of ‘attitude’ and had, as far as mum and dad could tell (and they reinforced the change) actually returned to acting like he had when he was a lot younger, which they both found delightful. Then there had been a lovely, unsophisticated innocence when Robbie’s world revolved around them, he still had his childish ways and giggled, he was such a lovely and loving little boy.

Although he’d grown, he still wasn’t that tall. His physique was slim and blemish free but occasionally he’d come home from school with a few bruises from playing football but in general, he still had the appearance of a young boy. How he’d let himself get mixed up with the school’s notorious tearaways was a mystery.

Mum and dad had kept him scrupulously clean and free from any of the complications that wearing a nappy might induce, like nappy rash. Mum had applied a cream that offered not only to keep him reasonably waterproof but also ensure the area smooth and dermatologically clear.

With the lack of any electronic games or even his mobile to play with, he found himself needing some form of distraction, so ended up in his room playing with his collection of old toys. This was yet another thing his mother in particular found enchanting and, when not secretly filming the event, had herself got down on the floor and joined in with him. Encouraging him to let his imagination run riot, whilst shuffling around the carpet on his hands and knees pushing a toy and looking for all the world like a worry-free little lad.

She was always pleased to see the roundness of the padding whether under his shorts or not, it only added to his boyish charm. She was quite amazed at how endearing he looked when he stopped trying to be anything but a little kid who only wanted to enjoy himself. Well, that’s what was running through her mind at least.

What his parents were unaware of was the fear Robbie saw in those early days of being beaten with a strap. He’d never said anything to them about this mental worry but that thought continually resonated in his brain.

THWACK!

He still didn’t know why he was being punished in this way, he hadn’t confessed to anything specific, but guilt and the probability of physical punishment had driven a lot of the changes his mum and dad now found acceptable... and why he found himself wearing padding all the time.

Something else that was impacting in his twelve-year-old mind was the fear they would actually know his worst secret. He thought they couldn’t possibly know that because he anticipated the punishment would be much, much worse than having to wear nappies. That fear had meant he argued but argued less, weirdly, as a result, became more susceptible to his parent’s praise, like he had been when younger. Because of this change it bolstered their idea that they were correct - Robbie being made to wear a nappy (and use it) had certainly changed his conduct considerably on a day-to-day basis.

His parents met everything he did with positivity and made it so that as far as they were concerned this was all natural and how things should be. They got into a daily rhythm of changing his wet and messy nappy and surprisingly they found Robbie become more and more at ease with it. So, as far as they were concerned, the ‘psychology of the nappy’ was working just fine and certainly, for the near future, saw no reason to change that dynamic.

~ tbc ~

[You know what you've done. 1 - 14]

On 4/10/2025 at 6:56 PM, Dirty Boy said:

I assure you, that in Italy no parent used corporal punishment not even when i was a child in the 80s, let alone now. Don't trust what you read, i live in Italy. Maybe it was like that in the 50s/60s. Italian parents are certainly much less punitive and severe than American ones. When I see punishments, etc. in American movies, etc., they are completely foreign to me.

 

I feel the same way when I see the amount of bullying that seems to go on in US schools but my only gauge for that is TV and movies as I have no actual experience of it living in the UK. In my school I never saw that level of bullying but that was not to say it didn't go on... it was just I never saw it.

Let's agree that Robbie is wearing a nappy and whether he likes it or not, and for one reason or another, he's not getting out of them in the immediate future at least.

Thanks to everyone.

Hugs

Les

[You know what you've done. 1 - 14]

Hi Dirty Boy

I understand your concerns but a quick look on Google had this to say.

Which countries discipline their children the most?

High Reported Rates:

Kenya and Italy: Studies show mothers and children in these countries generally reported more frequent and normative use of physical discipline compared to other countries.

Lithuania and Turkey: These are two countries where corporal punishment is still legal, and a higher percentage of parents reported using physical punishment.

More info available: https://www.google.co.uk/search?q=which+countries+discipline+their+children+the+most

Further questions about psychological discipline produced similar links.

###

However, this site is about ABDLs so, I'm not sure if I wrote about getting Robbie a second job would be all that appreciated... although I could be wrong.

As usual Dirty Boy you give me pause for thought and argue your case... so thanks for taking the time to write and pass comments, all input is greatly appreciated.

Hugs

[You know what you've done. 1 - 14]

Part 3

That’s twelve days ago and, despite all his protestations, he’s still wearing a thick fabric nappy. Early on he tried a few times to lose them, and, on each occasion, he’d been found out. His parents expressed their disappointment but then gave him the opportunity of being re-nappied or experiencing an even worse (but undisclosed) punishment. By then he was so scared of what that might entail he reluctantly let himself be folded into what has become his customary thick fleecy padding.

However, he had disobeyed them so there were to be consequences. At the time he didn’t quite realise what that meant but now - he couldn’t go anywhere without an adult; TV programmes were monitored so was only able to watch Children’s TV without supervision and bedtime was brought forward by half an hour each time he’d tried to scramble out of his nappy.

Although the initial idea hadn’t been to reduce him to act like a toddler the more he protested and squirmed in his padding, the more it all seemed appropriate to deal with him in that way. They’d let him grow up choosing his own path but that had led in the wrong direction, so the pull back, the reining in of his possible self-destructive side, was now down to them. Psychologically, the fact that he was wearing a nappy made it easier for them to treat him as a little boy in need of such instruction. What’s more, with him having restrictions both physical and mental, what they were doing appeared to be getting results.

Even after the first day he’d thought it would be over quickly. He couldn’t understand why his parents would want their son to wear something so childish. He felt silly and vulnerable and dreaded anyone knowing anything about it, and yet they seemed perfectly fine with it all. So, when he was put into another nappy, and then another... he was upset but the fit of temper he wanted to unleash was kept firmly in check. Quite simply, now he was wearing a nappy, he found it difficult to fight back against his mum and dad’s fervour.

There had been times when he’d checked his drawers to see if his ‘proper’ underwear had returned, only to be saddened at the number of nappies piled there. It didn’t look like this punishment was going to end soon judging by that amount of fleecy cotton. Also, because of the times he’d not told them he was wet, they insisted that, when at home, no shorts. He was furious at that rule but, like everything else, it came to pass.

Something else that had crept up on him unaware was that his room now had a faint smell of urine but quite a heavy atmosphere of liniment and baby powder. It was something that, like everything else about this project, brought memories, happy memories, flooding back to mum who was in her element dealing with it all.

~

With each ‘pull back’ by his parents, and the added reaction that had on his entire mental capabilities, he was feeling tense, nervous and had difficulty concentrating, whilst feeling detached from what was happening. At times it felt like it was all happening to someone else and when he felt that way his nappy was perplexingly a comfort, whilst at other times just an irritation.

At bedtime his padding was made thicker with booster pads and tougher plastic pants, which in truth his mother thought made him look just too sweet for words. (The photographs she took at such times both when he was awake and asleep bore testimony to this fact). There were times when the plastic cover just held the nappy cushion to perfection and made him look every inch a sweet little toddler. There was no hiding the fact that, with each change (and application of cream and powder), mum was enjoying seeing her boy wearing such an item and loved to see each of his ‘special covers’ mould itself around the padding and produce what she thought was the ideal way Robbie should wear his nappy – glossy and firm.

What was even odder was there were also times when she spoke to him as a child and he didn’t react badly or shrug with disdain. Despite claiming not wanting to be treated as a baby her constant reassurance he was a ‘good boy’ was having an effect. He seemed to actually enjoy being complimented and comforted - mum especially always keen to deliver a supportive hug. This was strange because no matter how many times he told himself this shouldn’t be happening, the hugs immediately made things seem better.

In the days since she’d put him back into a nappy she’d persuaded herself that because she thought this a good idea AND for his own good, he’d eventually appreciate that fact for himself. As if by some magical spell, even if he didn’t confess his multiple sins, he would acknowledge what was happening and know it was all in his best interest.

She was unyielding in her belief that this was for the good (and possible redemption) of their wayward boy. He’d been irresponsible and wanted her good boy back. She repeatedly told herself that by making him wear a nappy, he would understand he was still only a child and under their protection. They knew what was best for him and, quite simply, he looked so adorable wearing one.

At each change mum and dad were positive and encouraged him to be happy in HIS nappy. They kept emphasising that it was HIS and that it was because of what he’d done that he was wearing one. They doggedly pursued the notion that if they insisted his nappy wearing was all down to him then he would find it more difficult to blame others.

In next to no time, and quite unexpectedly, Claire and Thomas had eroded his independence and made him totally dependent on what they decided. The mouthy pre-teen was, to their surprise, quickly subdued and learned that his way of life depended on wearing his nappy. He may not have been happy-in-a-nappy but what he perceived to be the alternative meant he had little choice.

The thing was, so embedded in his thoughts was the brutal ‘THWACK!’ of the strap on his unprotected bum, that mental image alone made him recoil from pushing too hard at the new boundaries - that, together with the fact he still had no idea what exactly he needed to apologise for. Well, actually he did and the unforgivable shame about what he’d done was quite overwhelming so he certainly wasn’t going to confess to THAT.

~

Meanwhile he tried apologising “for everything” but his parents asked him to be specific. He struggled by admitting to some of his lesser crimes, but his parents just smiled and asked him to think again. This of course incensed him, which made him feel angry and argumentative, but to no avail. The restrictions for where he could go and what he could do were quite severe but he didn’t have the conviction or proficiency to combat them. So the nappy stayed and because of that he didn’t want to go anywhere or see anyone.

The reality that they’d got him into nappies a lot easier than anticipated increased their desire to make sure he didn’t get out of them again anytime soon. Seeing their son totter around the house wearing such nice thick protection, and him being aware of that fact AND that it was down to ‘something he’d done’, oddly made for a lot less stressed household. His father’s firmness and mother’s equal, but more understanding, approach had befuddled him enough so as not to be sure where he stood. Every time he disputed the need for a nappy as punishment, his reluctance to admit to why he was now wearing one was used against him.

“We don’t have to explain anything young man... but keep arguing and see where that gets you. Remember, you brought this on yourself!”

This nebulous contention left him mystified and angry but had nothing to fight back with. He couldn’t confess, that would be just too much. He also thought, no he knew, if what he’d done ever got out then his parents would disown him completely. It wasn’t worth even thinking about, the repercussions were too dire to contemplate... he had enough to worry about as it was.

As a result, because of his quarrelling, bedtime, with extra thick fabric padding and heavy protective plastic pants, had at one point been 7pm, which for a lad his age was ridiculously early. So, although he wriggled out of them to begin with, pretty soon learned that wasn’t going to happen without significant cost, especially when they quickly returned him to the now permanent cushion of a fleecy nappy, which of course was accompanied by the sweet telltale rustle of plastic pants.

Being put to bed, not sent, they made sure he was tucked up nicely and kissed ‘night-night’ so he knew they meant business. They also added the proviso that he wasn’t to get up for any reason and if he did - how did he fancy a six o’clock bedtime?

To get to this point there had been several complete family eruptions but all were dealt with by mother’s sympathy and understanding coupled with father’s refusal to change his mind. In fact, Robbie had never known his parents be so difficult to influence. In the past he’d always been able to get his way playing one parent off against the other. Well, so he thought, but of course that wasn’t quite what was happening.

His parents had always thought they’d brought him up to be responsible but now they’d seen that error, no matter how temporary or otherwise, of a free rein. They were determined to stop that decent and had decided on this, perhaps controversial, way to alter the circumstances.

“We said you’ll wear a nappy all the time and that’s just what we meant,” his mother said with a severity Robbie just wasn’t used to. He shivered at her determination as his own hope that he still had any say in the matter diminished. “We don’t want to baby you but you are still a child and under our care and it appears you need a constant reminder of that fact... and what is more... you know exactly why.”

His body radiated a hot guilty flush, his padding seemed to get heavier, and the tell-tale rush of nervous pee into it only confirmed why he now wore a nappy.

“Try and remove them again and see what happens,” his father added with touch of malice but of course always added a smile, which could have been interpreted in two ways.

THWACK! – the heavy mental guilt trip made him comply.

That final threat left Robbie all but feeling what that might be, though grasped it was something he didn’t want to experience.

~

He’d resented early bedtimes but, with the prospect of it being moved to 6:00pm, he gave in, much to his mother’s relief; she didn’t want to fight him she wanted his acceptance of the situation. She took great delight in getting her boy ready and into his thick nighttime nappy. His usual sleepwear of boxers and t-shirt had been replaced by a nice, but very thick, fleecy nappy with extra padding (to help take care of his morning mess) and a t-shirt that was supersoft, which was in a plain pastel colour. So, despite his protests, wriggling and total un-cooperation her determination (and control) was definite about what he would be wearing from that moment on. She made sure that every little interaction, whether good or bad, ended with her pulling him in for a hug. It may not have been what he wanted but confusingly there was no denying a comforting warmth spread through his body (though not necessarily his nappy) whenever it happened.

Because of all this, at each change the memory of his babyhood would surface when she’d slipped in a dummy or fed him a bottle of warm milk, such a happy and fulfilling time for her (why couldn’t things be like that again she’d fantasise?). However, that wasn’t the outcome they were searching for. This wasn’t an attempt to baby him (but more and more it did appear to be heading that way by its own volition), it was to make Robbie realise the penalties for his unchecked actions and the culpability he shared in this outcome. Once he’d stopped fighting them on that particular front, he was able to gain a later bedtime and some restricted playtime on his console but that was reliant on his behaviour.

Nevertheless, each change of nappy didn’t stop his mother, emotionally at least, reliving those times when he was such a cute and loving little tot. Rubbing in anti-rash cream and sprinkling his naked little genitals with talcum powder, were all such a heady image. She’d covertly capture such moments on her mobile when he wasn’t looking and often when he was asleep – he was one loveable nappied teen when lying there dreaming about who knows what. It was no burden for Claire to be responsible for his nappy changes... wet and messy... she didn’t mind.

That was the other thing, he wasn’t allowed to change himself, not that he wanted that job, but his parents insisted that only they were allowed to change his nappies. It made it more personal; they could also keep a check on him and of course it made him totally reliant on them for dry padding. His night time nappy was thicker to cope with everything he was expected to have deposited in it come morning.

Claire made sure that his huge, glossy plastic padded bum was the last thing she saw each night as he climbed under the covers. To her the smooth shiny bulk was the epitome of innocence and also a not-so-subtle reminder that he looked very much a pre, pre-teen.

“If only...” she’d think. Which would lead to thoughts of him nursing on a warm bottle of milk or happily sucking on a dummy like he had when a toddler. She’d try and ignore these mental images but they were quite strong and very, very pleasing. Sometimes he was grumpy and ‘not in the mood’ for a hug but that didn’t worry her as she’d kiss him affectionately on his forehead and whisper “Goodnight sweetie”. The gentle rustle of his plastic pants against the bed linen as he got himself comfy a delight to her ears.

He complained about the mass being too weighty, the plastic pants made him hot and sweaty, which made his nappy damp even when he hadn’t peed in it. However, the truth was that his mother had fitted them perfectly. She’d made it so that his nighttime protection was much thicker with extra padding to soak up any extra ‘flow’ and that his clear or white plastic pants were also much larger and more robust to cover the extra material. She discerned what would work and what wouldn’t and knew that the smooth rounded shape, both front and back, would not only let him know he was well-protected but that a boy, her boy, would be very secure. Of course, he wouldn’t admit to this startling fact but his nappy was indeed annoyingly snug... and begrudgingly there were times when her praise and love was very, very welcome. At his age it was those things he’d been trying to escape from, however, when it came down to it, and it’s constant availability, it was something he quite liked.

She was completely in her motherly element as each night she patted and stroked his slinky large plastic bottom when he crawled under the bed covers. The cushiony package filling her nightly with happy mummy-hormones and even happier memories.

“Night-night sweetheart... we love you Robbie... never forget that.” She caressed his hair and kissed his forehead. His bed times might have got a little later than when he was being confrontational but they still weren’t overly late.

So, even though he was full of resentment and hated the large bulky item fixed around his groin that had that soft swishing sound as he moved, his mother’s words were always positive and loving and it was hard to stay cranky under such circumstances. She’d got him into a loving routine which happily meant all his arguments were forgotten as he fell into a blissful night’s sleep.

~

However, the first time he’d had to crap in his nappy had been the most difficult. On that first day he really wasn’t sure. He’d decided to ‘just get it over with’ so was trying to cope as best he could but also he was twelve and thought there was no way he should be wearing a nappy never mind having to use it. After mum had reapplied his wet one and told him to use it - that was a shock. He’d held off as long as he could and eventually begged his father to let him use the toilet like he had for the past eight years. Dad was resolute that he used his nappy as prescribed and insisted that the boy should just relax and not worry about it.

This made no sense to Robbie who was sure it was being done just to humiliate him further. His absolute refusal to shit himself was skewered by the fact that the holiday was fast approaching. His parents had made clear that all future events depended on him carrying out their demands and that meant staying in his padding and using it. So, no matter what he wanted, this was the state of play. However, he had no intention of missing out on the holiday and was still of the opinion that, if not before, when that day arrived then his punishment would cease, and everything would return to normal.

Although no nearer acknowledging why he was being punished in such a way, he still felt guilty (very guilty). There was no doubt that with the intensity of his parent’s chastisement he must have crossed a line somewhere, even if he didn’t know how or when. It was all very frustrating and perplexing but didn’t know what he could do to change things. Everything he’d so far tried had ended with a smile and a push back – “You know why you’re wearing a nappy sweetheart”.  

To do what he was being told to do was the ultimate betrayal of what growing up was all about. How could he forget all the years of going to the toilet easily? It was difficult and of course the reluctance was causing him great pain. His stomach growled as he tried to keep from releasing his smelly load but still dad wouldn’t let him visit the toilet, he had to use the nappy.

“Please dad... please let me just go...”

“Come here son,” Thomas beckoned him over and hugged the crying boy to his chest and rubbed his back and patted his thick padding. “Just relax and let go.”

“I can’t dad honestly I’ve tried,” his sobbing son appealed.

“Sshhhhh, don’t cry...” he patted and rubbed his son’s cushioned bum, “We don’t want you to be ill and all that’s in you is going to come out eventually so... let it.” He whispered in the boy’s ear. “Just relax son, just relax and let it happen... I’m here for you but it’s something you need to do...”

Tears of incomprehension and total irrationality spun in his head. It didn’t make any sense as to why he needed to perform such a dirty and backward action. It wasn’t right...

“But why dad... why?” The sobbingly increased.

“Because son from now on that’s how it’s going to be. So, the sooner you do it the sooner we can all move on.”

The words were supportive but Thomas wondered if this was really necessary. Claire had said that Robbie needed to know he was wearing a nappy and thought just wearing one wouldn’t quite get the message home. However, a wet and messy nappy made sure he realised that he was being punished.

“But dad...”

Unfortunately, as his father rubbed his back to console him his resolve ended abruptly with a huge involuntary fart and the back of his nappy began to fill.

A loud cry of anguish came from Robbie as he had no alternative but to release the entire load once it started. His body shook as his father held him tightly and offered words of reassurance.

“There, there son, that’s better... get it all out and then later we can get you all changed into a fresh one for the rest of the day.”

Robbie was crying hard, mortified about what was happening. He couldn’t escape his father’s hug and, in a strange way, being held by his understanding dad was somehow comforting. However, he didn’t take in what had been said as lump after lump of mess pushed into the seat of his already well-soaked nappy.

Robbie couldn’t get over what was happening. Surely this couldn’t be what anyone wanted but still his nappy grew messier as the mush continued to fill it. This was the most horrendous thing that had ever happened to him and it wasn’t his fault. His mum and dad had made him do this and yet, as the pain in his stomach lessened, he was grateful for it to be out, though hated where it had ended up. Tears of humiliation, frustration and incomprehension were streaming down his face

“Good boy, I’m sure you feel better now. It’s all part of a process... well done.” The plastic pants had expanded but held the contents as his dad stroked the warm bulk that now settled in the seat of his son’s browning terry nappy. Once he was sure he’d finished Thomas patted him reassuringly one more time and left him so he could come to terms with it all.

Robbie really didn’t know what to do next; the shame and disgust at what had happened left him paralysed. A lad his age not only having to wear a nappy but messing in it as well hammered away at his once proud self-image. He was reduced to nothing but a toddler, which the tears coursing down his face only went to support.

He was totally chastened.

The bewildered lad was stunned that he wasn’t immediately changed but his reactions were very strong – shock and revulsion. He was surprised at the weight that dragged at his rear. In fact, it was his tight plastic pants that were holding the entire thing up and, for the moment at least, contained the smell.

A few minutes later and still standing in his room, the smell became apparent so, despite loathing each little movement, went in search of mum hoping she’d change him. However, he caught sight of himself in the mirror as he slowly waddled and was nauseated. He could see through the clear plastic pants just how discoloured his nappy had become, how streaked with tears his face was and how totally miserable and juvenile he looked… and it terrified him. He’d become the very thing he was afraid of becoming, a baby.

“Ah sweetheart, yes of course I’ll change you but, I’m busy at the moment. Why don’t you go and play in the garden, and I’ll sort you out as soon as I finish what I’m doing.”

“Play in the garden?” I’m not a kid thought Robbie. However, his full and increasingly saggy nappy indicated otherwise.  

Reluctantly (and carefully) he waddled outside, if for no other reason it diluted the smell around him but couldn’t do anything. He dreaded sitting down or mushing the mess against his skin so stood patiently but totally sickened waiting for her to come and sort him out.

Whilst waiting he had time to take in the ludicrous situation he found himself. He was angry, frightened, sad and a whole bunch of other emotions were bubbling around in his head. What were his parents playing at? What could he do to change things? But worst of all, was he destined to spend the rest of this inexplicable punishment wearing messy nappies?

Again, he tried to pinpoint in his mind just what it was his parents knew that had produced this weird and retrograde step in his advance to becoming a teenager. He was in turmoil; wouldn’t it just be easier to admit to his ‘crime’ and have done but that confession was just too much to contemplate.

Then he had a panic attack – what if any of his mates came around now and witnessed his shame? He was twelve he shouldn’t be wearing a nappy and definitely not shit in one but as he thought this, he also remembered that he’d said neither of these things would happen and yet they had.

He hadn’t realised just how much his body was shivering. It wasn’t cold, far from it, but his body seemed to be reacting to the situation on its own. He felt vulnerable, that was it, vulnerable and scared and every bit the small child who needed mum or dad to sort things out for him. This was all too much; the emotional strain had been stretched to snapping point... and it had just snapped.

Another huge sob wracked his body – why, why, WHY were they making him wear a nappy and worse still use it? What the hell had he done (that they knew about) that made this a punishment that fit any crime? Even the slightest movement reminded him of the grainy sludge he was carrying around. He hoped that now he’d done it he wouldn’t have to anymore. Alas he was wrong.

Twenty-five minutes later mum came out with a changing mat and a bunch of other items and laid them out on the sunny lawn and called him over. Cheerfully, and there out in the fresh air, she was going to give him his first messy nappy change since he was three; the first of many she anticipated whilst getting her boy back. Back from what and where was between him and her. He couldn’t understand why she was so pleased he’d just shit himself yet she was full of praise and patted his filled nappy with enthusiasm.

“You’re doing very well Robbie.... keep up the good work and who knows?”

This had been yet another big test, he’d wet without any encouragement, but this had needed pressure and deprivation to get him to comply. Still, he’d done it now and she was unbelievably proud of him. Quite simply, that might have been down to the fact that she now thought of him as a little kid and, although that wasn’t supposed to be the idea, the thought was happily held in her head.

“But mum,” he tried to get his snivelling under control, “this can’t be what you want... I’m, I’m, (hic) not a little baby.”

Unfortunately for Robbie, as his mother looked down on him, she didn’t agree. A messy nappy, a tear-streaked face, pleading eyes and needing a mummy’s love to make things better. She wasn’t going to tell him, but yes, that’s just what he was, her baby boy.

“Well love, let’s think about it. You’ve been returned to wearing a nappy for a reason...”

“Yes, but I don’t know what for...” The frustration and absolute bewilderment at what he’d just done evident in his sad eyes. “I’ve not been told what it is I’ve done.” He sheepishly countered; face creased simply not understanding.

“We think you do know,” she gave him a look as if to say, ‘you aren’t fooling anyone’. “Now we think the return to wearing a nappy will give you time to contemplate on the ‘why’ and perhaps, once we see that recognition in you, then things might return to normal... well relatively.”

“But this is unfair, why do I have to use these damn things...” He pulled at the messy material, “It doesn’t make any sense...”

Even as he said the words he knew that his fate was sealed and the nappies, HIS nappies, were about to become a more permanent fixture than he had anticipated.

“Well son, to your father and I this is what you need... a simple and effective reminder of the repercussions for what you’ve been up to. You’ve abused your responsibilities of being grown up so now, as an aide-mémoire, a reminder if you like that you are in fact still a child, our child, you’re back in nappies. Not very subtle I’ll grant you, but we hope it will prove effective.”

The need in him to defy all of this, to shout “NO” at the top of his voice, to not just capitulate to his parents demands was brewing. He was agitated about what had happened, he couldn’t understand WHY it had happened and what’s more, even though he had a nappy full of shit, he was determined it wouldn’t happen again. Until that is his brain reminded him... THWACK!

Overcome with anger but still worried he bawled, “But I’m twelve... I can’t be a, a, a baby.” He stuttered whilst crying and not for the first time wondered why they were doing this? Could it be that he was growing up too fast? But that was a stupid motive surely they didn’t know his secret... did they?

Catching his baby reference Claire said. “But love, we remember the days when you were at your best and it was when you were a toddler and still wearing a nappy. Then you were such a happy and loving little boy; no secrets, no agenda, no...” she thought for a moment and then added “well... let’s just say... we’ve decided what’s for the best.”

“But a messy nappy... mum... that can’t be right.” He was unsure how he could put this any clearer because to him it just didn’t make sense.

She had some sympathy but there was no doubt that lying there in such a juvenile state, a lot of that brashness and flippant remarks had all but disappeared. What’s more, for the first time in ages he looked helpless and in need of his mummy and daddy... and that’s just what he was going to get.

“We’ll see sweetheart, we’ll see. We think you were at your best then and maybe it’s what you need now...mummy and daddy making all the decisions and your return to a time of innocence... but for the moment let’s get you out of this dirty nappy, hmm?”

The snivelling continued all the way through the clean-up and change; he was one very unhappy and very mystified twelve-year-old but perhaps weirdly, a fresh clean nappy was a wonderful relief. He was also out in the open, in the middle of the garden, where anyone paying a visit would be able to see.

“Mum, please can’t we do this indoors... please?” He begged.

“Sweetheart, you must not argue with mummy. She’ll decide where and when your nappy needs checking or changing... not my sweet little...”

“Mum, I’m not a baby please don’t...”

But his protest were in vain as whilst he closed his eyes and hoped no one else would see him, ‘mummy’, whether he liked her using the term or not, had him cleaned up and changed in just a few moments.

“There now,” his mother beamed as she proudly patted the finished item, “doesn’t that feel so much better?”

Compared to the dirty, sopping load that had been surrounding his waist, anything would be better. However, a look of incomprehension and disbelief on her son’s face was oddly offset by an unintentional nod of agreement, much to his mother’s approval. 

“Now then love,” she said tenderly “the secret to avoid wearing a messy nappy is to get into a routine.”

Robbie wanted to say that the secret was not to wear one in the first place and just get on with things he’d done since he was three... like get to the toilet on time but he wasn’t given the chance. She saw him about to speak and hushed him into silence.

“Now, as we’ve told you we’ll make every effort to change you as soon as we know your nappy needs it but, if you get into a routine then you can more or less be free from constant checks.”

She could see he was not happy as she patted the thick padding, an action that was enforcing the fact this was now part of him. There was a slight wriggle as Robbie got used to his fresh underwear and Claire couldn’t get over just how much pleasure she got from seeing his fleecy white nappy and ducky pins through the glossy plastic and the subtle rustle gave an aural aspect to what was before her. As far as she was concerned it was all simply... Perfection.

“What I suggest is that in the morning when we change you out of your lovely thick night time nappy that you take the opportunity to fill it before that happens. That way, you’re not carrying any poo around during the day when opportunities to change and clean you up might be a little more difficult.”

He looked horrified at the suggestion.

“So, we expect our morning changes to be messy but at least it will be out of the way, then, apart from any accidents, which of course we’ll deal with as soon as we can.”

“But mum...”

“It’s for your own good sweetheart, take my advice or not, it’s your choice but do you really want to be wearing a messy nappy for any longer than you need to?”

Robbie wanted to say it was no choice at all, he was being made to act like a toddler but knew that shouting wasn’t going to work. “But mum, I don’t...”

“Those are your options sweetheart and it’s up to you whether you follow my advice. Oh, and in case you’re wondering, things won’t change, the nappy stays for all your toilet activities... OK?”

“But mum... please... I... I...”

“Shhh, shhhh, shhhhh, sweetheart, this is happening so why not make the best of it… who knows… you might just enjoy it.”

He was stunned into silence – might just enjoy it... joking right?

That was her final words on the subject and although horrified he knew it wasn’t going to end anytime soon.

~ tbc ~

[You know what you've done. 1 - 14]

On 4/6/2025 at 10:56 AM, Dirty Boy said:

Let's say that this type of punishment creates fractures between children and parents, with hatred that remains. If children are humiliated and oppressed, once they grow up they have a detached relationship and try to leave home as soon as possible (college, work) and reduce contact to a minimum. Let's say that treating children in a way that is too punitive and humiliating causes karma to catch up with you, when you are old, they will have no qualms about locking you up in a nursing home. So it is a cynical reasoning but it is the truth.

If I were a parent, if i really had to punish a child, i would do it in a constructive way as i said, sending him to do a part-time job to make him responsible. I believe that using punitive systems such as beatings or things that humiliate him, damages his psyche, maybe it could turn him into a bully. Many bullies are bullies because they are abused at home, and they take it out on their peers. 

You might well be correct but karma doesn't always happen... except in American sit-coms and all kids react differently to what they are faced with. These parents have been particularly cunning. School is on a long break and they can unveil their plans with hardly any one else being in the least bit involved.

However, maybe the guilt Robbie is carrying he might well believe this is something he deserves... or is at least preferable to the vicious alternative.

Thanks for your comments.... they are much appreciated.

Hug

On 4/7/2025 at 6:25 AM, wetdiaper55 said:

I love the story . I can,t wait for the next chapter , Lets see where it is going

I'll try to put the updates online at regular intervals... hopefully at least once a week... maybe more.

18 hours ago, wetdiaper55 said:

If Robert is small for his age, mom and dad could pass him off as a big toddler on hoilday .....and save some money

Hmmmm... let's see how the relationship develops between the family once they get to their destination.

Thanks to all my readers and those who comment.

a HUGE HUG to each and all.

:Les

[You know what you've done. 1 - 14]

22 hours ago, Tasa said:

Good story. However these parents are messed up, if they parented better from the start he would never have been in this situation. If he was 16 I would belive that they would not be able to influence his behavior, but at 12 they should have been able to steer him away from a gang and to much trouble.

They thought they were parenting well. But sadly, Robbie's entire persona changed when he met Mally and his need to impress him. I agree, if he was 16 then things would be different but they still see a chance of 'saving' him. Perhaps not everyone is a fan of the way they decided to do it.

😬

18 hours ago, CDfm said:

I really enjoyed the new chapter.  Got a better understanding of why his parents took the steps they did.  Many people won’t agree with their decision but honestly it makes sense in some respect. He is young and defiant and is in need of a change in his life.  He has resisted other alternatives and this method has a good possibility of success. I am hopeful his parents carry out this punishment until he adjusts himself. 
I am looking forward to seeing the next chapter. 

I agree. Parenting isn't easy and when a problem rears up then it can be hard to quell it. To me making him wear a nappy so he's aware of his real status (a child) may be weird but it's better than a sound beating.

 

18 hours ago, Dirty Boy said:

Robbie should go to the police, his parents are out of their minds. I would have waged war at home, i would have run away. If I were a parent, i would only implement constructive punishments, such as making him do a part-time job, etc. I am against punitive and humiliating punishments. I do not consider them educational, in fact they are counterproductive

There's no way does Robbie want the police involved. He has been up to all manner of things in his gang and there's certainly at least one thing he would be scared of them discovering.

 

16 hours ago, parkintochter said:

What? This is not guidance, they are completely mental 😆. And if they are wrong is not a debate thing. In real life they would get in trouble if someone reports them to the police. The parents would probably get into the news.

No one but the three family members know so... no one is going to the police.

 

15 hours ago, Dirty Boy said:

I think the police, in the real world, might see it not as educational but as child molestation and abuse. Kids today are quite emancipated on these issues and would certainly seek help at least from uncles, grandparents, or a teacher. 

Let's say that I like to read these types of stories, but they put my "inner dad" in a bit of difficulty 😅

In the real world I don't think the police would find a naughty boy being returned to wearing a nappy as anything but a good thing. They have enough to do than settle any family squabbles... when no one has complained.

 

11 hours ago, maly said:

Thanks for the new chapter, I think Robbie is going to learn a lot lol.

Maly.

Thanks Maly and all of you for your fantastic comments. I hope you stick with Robbie and his 'nappy punishment' and see where this eventually leads. Just remember, he has a secret HE doesn't want discovered... so perhaps creating to much of a fuss might be more detrimental to him than his parents.

Thanks again everyone

Hugs to you all.

Les

[You know what you've done. 1 - 14]

Part 2

“STOP, STOP pleeeaaassseee just stop.” Robbie begged. “Mum, dad, tell me what I’ve done... I... I...”

It was a strange juxtaposition – their boy now firmly wrapped in a nappy and nothing else, trying to be grown up... visually at least didn’t work. 

“Oh sweetheart,” his mum took over feeding his kicking legs into the smooth see-thru plastic fabric. “These will contain everything so our little boy doesn’t make a mess anywhere he shouldn’t AND if he wants all this to end, he knows just what he needs to do.”

“I’m not a baby,” he said firmly but it lacked conviction, especially as the thick cotton fabric was now being engulfed by plastic pants. He wriggled, complained, swore but the bottom line was, he was afraid of what might happen. That limited his more aggressive nature (or one he adopted for his mates) and his mother accomplished the final snap of the waistband that held it all in place.

“There you go sweetheart,” his mum chuckled, whilst his father once again gave the ‘don’t mess with me’ look, “all nicely wrapped up and ready to greet the day.”

It was an instant transformation – one minute a lively pre-teen, the next, a timid, four and half feet worried looking pre-schooler.

Mastigophobia: that irrational fear of punishment wasn’t a word any of the family knew. However, there was little doubt that now it was the main mental image that was going to control a lot of what Robbie thought.

Of course he wasn’t immune to pain – playing football he’d been in many a rough tackle and rugby, well, he’d arrived home with several bashes and bruises and on occasions blood trickling from various wounds.

Those injuries didn’t worry him but he’d avoided unnecessary pain and his family had never subjected him to any form of physical punishment. The problem he had now, especially as it had taken over his imagination, was how easy the gang had spoken about the fights they’d had with brothers and sisters that ended in bruises and blood, or the times they were beaten black and blue by an overzealous parent with whatever means came to hand (punches, spankings, beatings, canes, straps - the list seemed endless as what had been used on these other twelve year olds). These often ‘proud’ descriptions had Robbie inwardly quaking with fear though tried his best to hide it. However, this inner weakness had led to ‘the stunt’ that now hung like a noose around his neck and the guilt of which lived in his head full time.

The thought, and certainly the punishment, he knew he was due for such an offence would be intense and saw its delivery only in the same way the gang received punishment – hard, physical and severe. He knew he wouldn’t be able to take that, especially the intensity that this ‘crime’ would surely produce.

In his head it amounted to a constant round of his naked bum receiving a fiercely wielded strap almost nonstop. He knew he wouldn’t survive such punishment so saw avoidance as the only answer.

Whilst he sulked his mum and dad busied themselves getting him ready - faffing around making sure everything was as it should be for their boy. The plastic pants had a glossiness and tightness that made the fabric underneath gleam. Claire had taken special care and researched her part well to ensure that everything would fit nicely and the robust but pliable clear plastic pants simply looked adorable on their almost teenage son. Their words and actions around him were loving, if a little childish; simple words for simple actions, as if they were talking to some adolescent unsure of himself. Now wrapped up in a nappy Robbie was indeed unsure where to go, what to say or what to do to be rid of it all.

There were tears in his eyes as well as a look of absolute despondency – this isn’t the way it’s supposed to be. For Robbie the recognition this is indeed how it was going to be began to hit home.

It had all happened so quickly; one minute he definitely wasn’t going to wear a nappy and the next… well… he was wearing one now. It felt strange… it was soft but…

“Mum, dad I’m sorry for, whatever it is I’ve done but please don’t make me wear all this, what will my friends say?” Now he was pleading and appealing to their sense of fair play.  

“Well love, you could tell them you’re being disciplined and then list the reasons. I’m afraid playing dumb no longer works. Your father and I, and to a certain extent many others,” she purposely sounded vague, “have put up with your nonsense for too long so now it’s up to you to change our minds.”

She paused for it to sink in and then added.

“Also, just so you know, if anyone does ask and you tell a lie, or pretend you aren’t wearing a nappy, then the penalty will increase. We simply will not put up with you lying to anybody anymore, so, think on!” 

She looked to see if her words had sunk in and saw his face grimace in confusion. However, he took some salvation from the fact he hadn’t lied about what he’d done, he’d just never mentioned it - thank God.

~

Robbie was desperate to argue, to complain, to admit to anything, if only they’d tell him what they knew about, but the rules seemed to be getting worse. It was so belittling and confusing but the more he thought about it the scarier it was becoming. He didn’t want to admit to anything, there was so much and certainly some things he never wanted to talk about. So, who knew where all this would end if he didn’t tow-the-line... and WHY a nappy?

On the spur of the moment Claire added something else for him to think about.

“For the moment this padding is just between the three of us.” She rubbed the substantial cushion. “I think it suits you and I know you’re going to... well... perhaps not love it but maybe appreciate why you’re having to wear it. However, as we say, if you tell lies if anyone asks, or you start getting lippy, then this secret will no longer be secure. So, anyone and everyone could get to know about your new underwear. Do I make myself clear?”

How much of what she said sunk in she didn’t know because he was sobbing pretty heavily. Despite that she insisted he acknowledged what he’d been told and through the tears begrudgingly nodded a response.

Perhaps strangest of all was that Claire and Thomas hadn’t yet thought of where this punishment might go or what they anticipated would be the final outcome. Now they had him wearing a nappy they just felt their only son needed that reminder he was still a child and their responsibility and simply needed to know that his behaviour had consequences - and this was one of them.

So, Thomas went to work at the building firm and Claire worked from home doing the occasional freelance work that added to the family finances. They weren’t a rich family, managing fairly well but not rolling in blissful monetary excess, although that could change soon but things weren’t certain. However, they put Robbie as a priority over everything else. So, what they were doing and as a result his new needs were seen as paramount if they wanted this to be a success.

~

Claire had convinced Thomas that this punishment needed to be taken and, because of the sickening reputation Robbie was amassing for himself (plus the headmaster’s report), he’d unequivocally agreed with his wife’s decision. She had all the supplies ready before any action was taken because quite simply, she wanted her little boy back and away from the corrupting hooligans he hung around with. They knew that just banning him from seeing them wouldn’t work, they needed to make it so he’d be reluctant to see them. An embarrassing amount of childish padding seemed a good way of doing just that.

Claire and Thomas had no idea the huge secret their son was keeping, all they were sure about was that he and his mates had been making mischief and not at a Halloween level. The reputation of the gang was the talk of the neighbourhood, so the fact that Robbie was regarded as part of the trouble meant, as far as they were concerned, something significant had to be done. They just wanted to get it sorted and now the long school summer holiday was underway this was what came to mind.  

She kept telling herself that by making him wear a nappy she could get him back. The plan had been to start as soon as he was no longer under the influence of his ‘gang’. So, from the first day of the Summer Break he was to be guilt-tripped into the new nappy regime. After that, they had a couple of weeks to get him used to his new underwear and accept them before the holiday she hoped would cement their tender control and trusted by then he’d be back to his loving ways. 

She’d convinced herself that the weight and structure of his padding would rein in his current excesses, make him constantly aware of his situation. When she saw just how adorable he looked with that cute little bulge and the smoothness of his plastic pants adding to the picture - something else clicked. In fact, the more she saw him looking so endearing (and vulnerable) the more she wanted to baby him. Although, to begin with that wasn’t the primary concern she couldn’t deny that now he looked the part of the sweet, innocent little lad like he used to be, why not have that youngster again?

Many new and interesting possibilities flittered through Claire’s mind as she pondered just what these might entail.

~

For most of the twelve years of his life his parents had encouraged Robbie to grow up and be himself. Near the cusp of becoming a teenager had made him more independent in thought and deed but, as he was finding out, some of the effects of that weren’t necessarily a good thing. The last twelve months or so, since he became part of the ‘gang’, had seen a horrible difference in his overall attitude. However, he was now made to realise that his autonomy was really just an illusion as he still relied on mum and dad to provide for him.

This obvious fact had never really occurred to him before – things like, money, food, clothing, a roof over his head, even holidays, those things had always been there and available and taken for granted. However, now they’d decided he should wear a nappy that’s exactly what he was dressed in. He had no idea how he could change this without losing so much of what they obviously provided?

He had thoughts of running away, but where to? Thoughts of hitting out but the worry of getting the strap meant that was a non-starter. He wasn’t a coward (although in truth far more delicate than he wanted to appear) though without the gang to coax him into doing the things he’d done; he certainly would never have done them under his own volition. Despite being in a gang, the idea of physical hurt and fighting had never appealed to him. He had thoughts of screaming the place down and creating a vile atmosphere. All the anger at that moment was useless because he felt himself begin to fill up emotionally. There was so much going on in his head and tugging at his conscience – fear, guilt, sorrow - it was difficult to take any real action on any of it. He had rapidly discovered that any independence had just been fantasy. He was, to all intents and purposes, impotent and unexpectedly realised just how much he did depend on mum and dad.

The knock to his self-esteem, coupled with these new feelings of emotional anxiety, were overpowering (mum and dad had delivered a direct hit with this psychological blow). The lad, who just moments ago had woken up a happy twelve-year-old was now wearing a nappy and feeling, as well as looking, like a toddler. He felt his grown-up status had been completely removed and, like a little kid, was helpless to change anything his parents decided.

From being strong and independent (or so he thought) he was now at their mercy. He didn’t like any of it but there was no denying that at that moment he was wearing a relatively thick white cotton nappy with rather childish ducky pins holding it all together, plus plastic pants and felt miserable.

As dad checked the new underwear fitted correctly, Robbie’s fretful mind desperately hoped for a reprieve. Despite being positive it would never happen, he now found himself wearing a nappy and, with each part of the fitting completed, discovered any resolve diminishing. He certainly didn’t want to feel that worrying strap and had convinced himself that was the only other alternative available to them.

THWACK! Yes, that thought of physical punishment was quite terrifying.

As if to add fuel to his already dejected state, tears were pouring down his face... and he couldn’t stop them.

~

Who could he tell? His mates would ridicule him and kick him out of the gang. Aunties and uncles would probably take his parent’s side, and doubted if any neighbours would take pity, he’d been quite obnoxious to many of them in recent months. No, he could only appeal to mum and dad, though it was like they weren’t prepared to succumb to any of his pleas.

“But I don’t know what I’ve done.” Robbie was in full meltdown, powerless and crying, begging and having a tantrum all at the same time. He wasn’t sure if he should confess to all his sins but what specifically was he being punished for? He had no idea and didn’t want to implicate himself (or any of his mates) in something they didn’t know about in case it made things worse. He was in a quandary because he knew that confessing would indeed only make it worse. With this - what, why, how, when? - his mind was full of worry and speculation. So, whilst mother patted the pillow of air from his plastic pants and levelled everything out she indicated for him to get dressed.

This was ridiculous. He was twelve and naked apart from a thick piece of fleecy material and pair of plastic pants. He stared at his reflection - the overall effect was weird because his new juvenile underwear fitted him so well. The plastic smoothed his fabric nappy and although it could be seen, especially the little ducky ends to the safety pins, it hugged him in a comforting manner. His reflection told the story – he was a padded toddler and was probably going to be treated as such. The plastic cover’s thick cuffs at the leg holes and waistband were soft but sturdy and as his mum ran her finger around them, he could feel just how supple the new material was as it slipped and gripped against his skin. He was confused but thought that it was all madness, and he wasn’t going to stand for it; the padding was coming off straight away.

It was as if his thoughts were being read.

“If you tamper with any of this, or it’s removed without our say so, well, you think you’re in big trouble now, you’ll soon see this is the least of what will happen.” Dad threatened once again, and this brought an absolute torrent of tears and a spurt of anxiety-induced pee into the newly applied nappy.

He had to avoid any form of pain for his own preservation. In his mind he was convinced that he wouldn’t be able to withstand any prolonged beating with ‘the strap’ and he’d confess to everything (even his most secret of secrets) if subjected to such intense discipline.

‘THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!’

The possibility looked even closer than before but he had to keep that secret.

~

Robbie was in a dilemma, the fear of the possible physical hurt, set against the actual emotional reality, was producing a strange mix of concerns and indecision. Reluctantly he was now wearing a nappy and although as upsetting as the experience was, it certainly wasn’t as bad as getting a cruel beating. However, it was also not something any twelve-year-old would want to admit to. His parents had been pretty sure this was what was going to happen and so it had proved. His absolute determination for it not to happen hadn’t worked and he felt totally helpless.

Claire and Thomas were adamant that having their son wear a nappy would make him realise that he was still only a child. The constant hug of his padding (the result of which was the adoption of a cute little waddle) would, they hoped, make him acknowledge this simple fact.

There was absolutely no doubt that Claire had thought about this for a lot longer than her husband because she had chosen the items carefully and they fit perfectly. She couldn’t have been happier. Seeing her pre-teen son in a lovely white fleecy nappy, just seemed right and for some reason yearned he’d feel the same way.  

Even so, the pre-teen’s tears were real and although it pained both parents to see him in such a state, they were striving for a specific outcome. So, a few tears, whether self-serving or otherwise, had to be met with love but an understanding that they were in charge. After all, the hard bit was over, they had got their wayward son back into a nappy, so now it was just sheer willpower on their part to keep him that way.

~

Robbie was conflicted, which left him wondering where he stood. His parents had laid down the law as to what he would be wearing from then on and this had all happened despite him being resolute it never would. The shock to his system and self-image left him uncertain yet all he could feel was the thick padding that now wrapped itself around his hips. So, no matter how upset or strange the situation was, this was the way it was going to be - he shuddered at the prospect - how was he going to cope with this new weird and embarrassing weighty underwear?

Although this was an awful situation and he wasn’t thinking straight, he tried to reason it as just a temporary form of discipline and that, after a couple of days, it would be over, and things could return to normal. The thick cushion between his legs was strange, if not totally weird, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Thinking in these terms meant he could at least feel a little better about his circumstances but still… it was incredibly humiliating.

Claire ran her hand through her son’s hair. “Sweetheart, get some clothes on as breakfast will be on the table in few minutes.”

“I’m not hungry,” he mumbled and threw himself down onto his bed sobbing into the pillow yet trying to hide the tears. His smooth, shiny, bulky, plastic bum was shaking with uncontrollable emotion, which only made him appear more vulnerable and childish. Perhaps oddly, although the view was what they had hoped for, both mum and dad felt sorry for him.

Still, dad needed to assert his authority, “This isn’t a polite request... MOVE... you don’t get to make any decisions.” He was not going to put up with a sulky or belligerent child. “The sooner you get your act together and realise who is in charge, the better.”

As he lay there bitter but impotent, the poor lad resented his circumstances and didn’t want to comply but there was something in his father’s posture and tone that he’d never noted before – a severity that wasn’t going to be toyed with. It was intimidation he’d previously never experienced and it was quite unnerving. 

‘THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!’ was all he could imagine and that brought another burst of teary emotion.

However, as their son’s head was buried in a pillow both couldn’t help but smile an acknowledgement to each other because Robbie was suitably nappied. His slim frame, near hairless body and soft features made it so the fabric hugged him well, and perhaps oddly for a boy his age, didn’t seem inappropriate. The material was thick enough to give his bottom the babyish padded curve that looked so delightful, whilst the soft rustle of the plastic pants as his body heaved trying to contain his feelings added to their conviction that this, under the circumstances, was the correct move.

Claire took out her phone and silently clicked away at the scene, she hoped it would be the first of many shots, as she documented their attempt to pull their son back from, as they saw it, the precipice.  

They didn’t want to hurt their son with physical punishment (indeed it had been a psychological threat but no more), and although some might say that mental cruelty was worse, they didn’t agree with that assessment - challenging anyone to make the decision – a vicious spanking or wearing a nappy? Their son looked the part of a sweet boy who needed, and was getting, a new perspective to his life from doting but determined parents.

~

Improbably, the sheer number of tears and pent-up emotion had had an effect. The outpouring had made Robbie feel helpless and had taken him back to a time when crying produced instant love and attention from both parents. They always tried to comfort him with hugs, kisses and sweet-talk and now, despite himself, he felt like a little kid and wanted that support.

The fact that he was getting that attention in spades added yet another dimension to his unease. As his parents eventually left him to think about his circumstances - the weight of the nappy, the smoothness and subtle noise of his plastic pants as he moved brought home just what he’d become. It was still quite a shock to see himself dressed in such a way, but it was done now, so fighting it and getting the situation changed was going to be a lot trickier. However, now he’d calmed down slightly he wasn’t stupid enough to disobey his father on this occasion; he’d done that so often recently.

Ahh! and then a ‘ping’ went off in Robbie’s head, maybe that’s why he was being punished - for not doing as he was told, answering back and generally being uncooperative. If this is what had happened to get him into this state, he thought, perhaps now would be a daft time to test that theory. After all, although a terrible situation to be in, he was convinced this was only going to be a fleeting state-of-affairs, so, least said, soonest mended.

~

There was no doubt that those last few (life-changing) minutes had had a potent and upsetting impact on the lad. He was puzzled and without his mates to encourage him felt quite out of his depth. His initial thoughts had been to laugh off the very idea that mum and dad were playing a ‘prank.’ However, now he was actually wearing a nappy, and the determination and threat of ‘worse’ if he didn’t comply, had turned his youthful (and disrespectful) attitude upside down. He wasn’t as sure as he had been about just how much power or influence he had in the household. He was reliant on them for everything, and, as he ran his palms uneasily over the smooth padding he was now being required to wear, his previous teenage self-confidence seemed to evaporate.

The fact that he’d just leaked into his nappy was also a bit alarming, as if they knew he’d need one, but how? This was the stupidest of punishments as it made more work for all concerned but, he processed, it would only be his bulky nappy that anyone would notice. That was the main worry - the number of people who’d remark about it. What excuse could he come up with? Would his parents keep the secret as mentioned or just tell everyone that’s what he now wore because of some reason only they knew about? Again, anxiety filled his head and more unintentional pee dribbled into his nappy so began to feel like a stupid tot with no control. How had this happened and what could he do to change it?

First off, he needed to hide the absurd fact that he’d just soaked his padding.

~

Although this underwear was very disconcerting, he saw, for the moment at least, he had very little option. The threat of something worse, and the fact that he wasn’t sure just what it was that he was being punished for, filled him with apprehension. All those cartoon images in comics of kids getting a spanking or the cane in some old schoolboy stories suddenly were no longer amusing. In his head he could visualise the painful effects of a strap landing on his bare arse, even if he’d never experienced it or seen anyone receive such a penalty. That powerful and terrifying image was there in his mind and enough to keep him under his parent’s sway.

THWACK!

Reluctantly he knew he had to get ready, any further attempts at defiance might lead to, well, who knew where? He tried on several different pairs of pants but couldn’t fasten the zips or buttons on the ones he liked because of the padding’s thickness. All his pants and jeans were relatively tight, a boy his age needed to look good and baggy pants were something only the uncool would wear. So, despite his frustration, in the end settled on a pair of loose blue linen shorts he was going to wear on holiday in a couple of weeks’ time.

Oh hell, he had a sudden worry, would the planned holiday to Portugal in a couple of weeks now be cancelled because of all this? He hoped not as he’d been telling all his mates about the fabulous villa they were going to be staying in... he’d look stupid and a liar.

He’d been looking forward to the holiday because of all the spectacular hot looking girls he expected there’d be on the beach. He was at the age where he knew the possibilities of a girlfriend were desirable and wasn’t averse to thinking of them before he went to sleep. However, his new situation made him reassess his attitude towards his parents and, hoped if he maintained a pleasant disposition, things would soon get back to normal. What had changed, apart from the nappy, was that every time he thought about removing it his mind immediately thought about that strap. He couldn’t shake the idea that his parents might resort to that as the ‘other’ alternative, even if they had never actually mentioned it.

Instead of the usual lurid and disturbing t-shirt he preferred to wear, he slipped on a more conservative pale blue polo shirt with white sneakers and aimed to get to the breakfast table inside the allotted time. There was also the hope that the sooner he followed his parent’s directions, the sooner this whole stupid performance would be over.

~

“My, my sweetheart, you do look nice.” His mother greeted his eventual appearance. This was a bonus because the clothes he seemed to prefer always looked to carry some kind of threat. “I’ve done you some extra bacon so start; dad will join us shortly.”

It was as if nothing had happened. How could she pretend everything was normal, he was wearing thick padding under his shorts? Well, if that’s the way they were going to be he had to play their game.

That was it, pretend this was just a game. He could get through this stupid nonsense if he could set his mind to that fact. That should be easy-peasy.

“Thanks mum,” Despite his relatively thick padding Robbie was keen to keep this appearance of acceptance going for as long as he could. He had sensed from what his father had implied that being all moody and disagreeable wasn’t going to work so hoped this other, more compliant way, would be effective. “This looks lovely.”

His mother beamed with pride, although noticed at the same time the padding under his loose shorts wasn’t too identifiable although she enjoyed the soft rustle, which to her at least was an indication that nappy and plastic pants were where they should be. She saw the little waddle he’d had to adopt to accommodate the nappy’s thickness and couldn’t help but chuckle to herself because as he sat down the air rushed out from his wadding giving off a little whoosh.

She made a mental note to capture all that on camera at some point and loved his reaction.

He heard it as well and grimaced, making a mental note not to flop down anywhere whilst wearing plastic pants.

Dad came in a few moments later and settled at the table and smiled encouragingly at his son.

“Good start Robbie, good start,” and gave a seriously approving nod.

After a few minutes of eating in relative silence Robbie started an apology of sorts.

“Erm, look, erm, mum, dad, I’m sorry if I’ve been disrespectful recently and causing you to worry. You needn’t but, well... I’m sorry if my behaviour has upset you in any way.”

His mother smiled, “Well that’s nice of you Robbie and we appreciate what you’ve just said.”

Seizing what he thought was a moment of forgiveness he pursued it hopefully. “Please can I get out of this nappy... please?”

“Sorry son,” his father added, “We’re grateful for your apology and the fact that you recognise your failings but we know that those things you’ve just expressed regret about are but the tip of the iceberg. So, the nappy stays.” His father was firm but balanced; there was no harsh words just a statement of fact.

Robbie knew his dad was correct but had hoped that it might have worked. After a brief silent period of assessing the situation, he then got down to what was really worrying him.

“Are we still going on holiday?” he wondered doubtfully.

“Of course, sweetheart,” said his mother smiling encouragingly, “why would we not?” Her expression changed thinking something might be wrong “Oh, don’t you want to go anymore?”

“No mum no, I mean I’m really looking forward to it but, well, I just wondered because of... erm... this.” He rubbed the front of his shorts indicating the large, contoured bulge, which with him sitting down had become emphasised.

His mother laughed. “Oh sweetheart, you don’t think your dad and I would go without you, do you? We’re looking forward to the break as much as you and we’re told that there’s plenty to see and do so the place will be busy and fun.”

“Great,” Robbie enthused more than a little relieved, “looking forward to it myself.” At the back of his mind, he was dying to ask how long he would have to wear this ridiculous outfit but thought best not to bring it to their attention. He might not like the answer.

“But of course,” his father said with a look that wasn’t quite as friendly, “it all depends on you keeping the nappy on and not causing your mother or I any further... erm... concern.”

The positivity Robbie had briefly held disappeared with those words and he knew he’d have to put up with wearing his extra thick padding if he wanted to go on holiday.

“Yes dad,” he answered gloomily.

~

Later, and it took Robbie by surprise, his mother pulled down his shorts and checked to see if he was wet. He looked daggers at her, but she just ignored him.

“Oh, darling you’re soaked,” she said sympathetically. “You must tell either of us when you’re wet... it’s not good to walk around in a soggy nappy.”

Angry at the invasion of his privacy and feeling that it was their wrongdoing anyway he shot back, “Well if I didn’t have to wear the damn things I could go to the loo... this is all your fault.” He wasn’t going to admit that he’d inadvertently peed in his nappy.

“Now, now sweetheart,” she soothed, “you know why you’re wearing such an item so let’s not pretend otherwise, hmmmm?” She didn’t want this to turn into a shouting match and as long as she and Thomas remained a calming influence, she was convinced Robbie would also remain compliant.

“No, I don’t...” he spat back.

She wasn’t going to rise to this touch of petulance and merely smiled and shook her head as if reprimanding a demanding toddler.

“Oh yes, I think you do... anyway.... it’s a moot point because this is what you’ll be wearing from now on, so, you’ll just have to get used to it.” She finished dismissively.

Despite his initial anger… “THWACK” a mental image of a strap walloping his backside filled his head and though he wanted to throw the biggest tantrum any twelve-year-old could muster, that psychological image pulled him up... and that wouldn’t be the only time. Oddly, he still felt guilty because he knew he wouldn’t be punished unless he had done something AND he’d done plenty of things he hoped they didn’t know about. So, swallowed his anger as she guided him back to his room for a clean-up and fresh nappy.

Because he’d soaked his nappy he’d become a little less confident about ‘the game’ he pretended he was playing. It didn’t feel right that his mother was about to change him but couldn’t come up with a way out. His anxiety increased, his confidence sunk below the horizon and he felt uneasy as he toddled up to his room. Followed by his mother who was surreptitiously videoing it on her mobile phone. His swaying padded bum making for a very cute image.

~

Claire was incredibly pleased that he was using his padding, that had been the second step after getting him into it, but knew he resented the fact he had to. What she didn’t know was that his wet nappy occurred quite by accident and unannounced. He’d been as surprised as she was now that it was soaked.

Robbie felt guilty that mum had identified that his nappy was wet, it was as if he was supplying the ammunition to shoot himself with. She, on the other hand, just seemed to accept it as the natural course of events and didn’t see it as a victory, merely something that needed sorting.

In fact, Claire was beside herself with delight. She had been wondering how she could insist he use it but now it seemed he was using it on his own. Perhaps he was already accepting the new nappy routine and realised it was what he needed to do.

Once the nappy was off and she’d wiped the damp area he announced that whilst it was off, he should go to the loo.

“Mum, I need to go for a sh.... erm... I need a poo.”

“Oh love, you should have gone in your nappy before the change. I tell you what, I’ll put it back on and you can do it then.”

Robbie was shocked. Even though he’d been told he’d have to use his nappy he thought it simply wouldn’t happen. Despite his protests she fastened him back up and pulled his plastic pants over the damp fabric.

“There sweetheart, you can go now.”

“Mum, that’s ridiculous, the toilet is only there,” he pointed across the landing, “why are you making me use a nappy.”

“Well, it’s all part of putting you back in them love. We expect you to use them for what they were designed for... and that means... everything.”

“Mum, I’m not a baby so stop treating me like one.” He was angry with her but even so knew that repercussions might be worse so slightly drew back from a full scale strop. “I’m not going to shi...” he added with timid certainty, but Claire just looked at him and said,

“In your own time love, in your own time.”  

He felt even more of his self-esteem slipping away - this wasn’t part of ‘the game’ surely?

He sighed, determined he wouldn’t do that.

~ tbc ~

[You know what you've done. 1 - 14]

Some say discipline

Others - guidance

Some say control

Others - guidance

Some say abuse

Others - guidance

Claire and Thomas are offering guidance as they see it... of course... they could be wrong.

As you will see if you stick with it... attitudes change.

Hugs and thanks to all my readers.

Les

 

[You know what you've done. 1 - 14]

Hi Guys

I hope this story resonates with a few people.

I always remember that my parents often said they knew what I'd done when I was sure no one did.

They often did.

However, they never put me back in nappies to make their point but here we have a very extreme circumstance and extreme parents who have their own ideas about what needs to happen.

Nappies! Robbie needs to learn that although he's twelve, he's still a child and under mum and dad's complete care.

Meanwhile, thanks for the positive encouragement.

Hugs to you all

Les

[You know what you've done. 1 - 14]

Hi Tasa

They know he's guilty but not of what... and it's the guilt Robbie feels that's going to guide what happens next.

Thanks for your comment

Hugs

Les

[You know what you've done. 1 - 14]

 You know what you've done

It’s the twelfth day and twelve-year-old Robbie still hadn’t acknowledged why he was back in nappies.  

~~~~

He’d woken up on that first day of Summer Break hoping for an exciting time with all his mates only to be greeted by his father looking grim and holding a bundle of stuff in his hand.

“Okay Robert,” his dad was not angry but never one to brook too much nonsense. Standing at six feet tall and having a fairly muscular physique from his job as a builder he looked most imposing. “School may be over but you’ve got a lot to learn so... it’s back into nappies for you. Go and get a shower and come straight back and I’ll see to you.”

Robbie bristled at the idea, as if he’d let that happen. Besides, what could he have possibly done to be returned to wearing a nappy? It had to be a joke, right? Perhaps he was dreaming and had yet to wake up properly because this was just silly. However, why would he be dreaming of such a thing it...?

He found his voice when he realised this wasn’t a dream at all.

“But dad... WHY... I haven’t wet the bed or anything?” Robbie grinned but looked suspiciously at what was in his father’s hands.

“Why don’t you think about the ‘why’ whilst having a shower, but don’t take too long.” Dad indicated for him to get up and get moving.

“Dad this isn’t going to happen, I’m not a kid and you can’t make me... I’m not a bloody baby,” he added insolently.

“Strike one, our little boy thinks he can swear with impunity...” Robbie had no idea what that word meant, “but he’s going to find that there are loads of things he thought... but thought wrong. Now, do as you’re told because this is going to be your underwear until we decide otherwise.”

“I don’t think so...” The cocksure defiance was there but he was wondering...

“There you go again, thinking and has been recently discovered... not your best feature Robbie. Because of all the things you’ve been up to over the past few months, thinking no one would get to know about, have come home to roost. Don’t think for a second you’re getting out of this because sonny, you aren’t.”

The seriousness and directness of his dad’s words made him uncertain. Unsure of what a twelve-year-old could do but, and this is what mattered, he was twelve years old and therefore had... oh... but...

There was also that guilt... what exactly was it they knew about that would bring about such a weird punishment?

“Shower... now.” Dad pointed towards the bathroom.

“But dad...” Robbie reluctantly did as he was told, easing his four feet six inch body from under the warm covers and then padding hesitantly to the bathroom in his creased t-shirt and boxers’ sensing it wasn’t the time to argue. Although slightly smaller than the others he was confident - he was after all in the school’s first eleven football team, and more recently mixing with his new tough friends, thought himself a toughie. However, when called out like this his swagger and self-confidence dropped. He needed more information and time to corral his excuses and arguments.

~

All through showering he wondered what dad knew he’d done. His grades weren’t too bad, granted there was always room for improvement. Although the Headmaster’s final comments on his end of term report card said that he ‘...didn’t try and easily distracted. A noticeable decline in ability and respect’ also didn’t help.

He couldn’t remember being rude or cheeky to his parents but of course such occasions are done without much thought. He and his mates hadn’t been caught doing anything that might be regarded as foolish or criminal (although that hadn’t stopped them from doing such stuff). Mind you, he didn’t want a complete investigation into what he and those mates had been up to, that would open a huge can of worms. Then there was one ‘biggie’ which he knew they better not know about otherwise his life would be ruined - and he wasn’t sure if that was an over or understatement.

Was there a difference between being cheeky and downright disrespectful? To a lad his age it was all part of growing up and having opinions, attitude and actions that might not correspond to what others might agree as normal. He wasn’t that bothered what anyone else thought... only himself... and his mate’s.

The ‘biggie’ was BIG and it weighed heavily now his parent’s said they knew what he’d been up to. His mates had said that no one would ever know so it was just between them but still, as he showered, the guilt cut through his body like a cold, cold knife.

~

Recently at school he’d been hanging around with a little gang who were dangerously close to being young hoodlums and whom he was desperate to impress. He’d somehow found himself in with this particular ‘in’ crowd with ‘attitude’ and liked the infamy by association that went with it. He adopted quite a bit of their style – the way they dressed, the way they spoke, the off-handedness in any conversation. They were lippy, disrespectful, rebellious and took anything not nailed down (and a few things that were). He didn’t come from their rough, tough background so had a lot to prove to fit in. So far, he thought he had but now his parents had pulled him up, he wasn’t so certain it had been that good a move.   

Although in their company Robbie saw himself as a rebel, and someone who thought for himself, the hardened, uncaring streak that his new mates possessed really wasn’t part of his character. In fact, despite his attempts at ‘fitting in’ with his new ‘friends’, it was safe to say that none of what they’d done sat easily on his conscience so more or less knew that eventually he’d be brought to book. But what specifically was it his dad knew and what was it that made him think in terms of ‘nappies’ as a penalty?    

Under the warm plumes of water, he chuntered to himself on how he would never wear a nappy, nor would he let his father fulfil his threat. Despite his absolute intention of not giving in he felt an unease creep into his head -something he’d never felt before. Well, it had but his mates told him to “...forget it ever happened” but it was a hard secret to keep. That secret, that thing, only he and ‘the gang’ knew about and which they’d laughed off as “...a great stunt” was hanging heavily but he dare not confess to it... ever.

He was at a loss to know why his father would want to impose such a juvenile punishment – one that had been threatened but never pursued before. Well, not exactly being put back into nappies but not able to go anywhere, have an early curfew or allowance stopped. All these penalties had been threatened in the past but never applied. So why now AND what had caused this dramatic shift that his dad intended to carry it out?

What the HELL did dad know?

Well, he decided, whatever he knew, or thought he knew, he wasn’t going to wear a nappy and there was nothing dad could do to make him. Of that he was certain.

~

Returning from the bathroom drying himself but confused as to why there was so much stuff spread out on his bed and why had his t-shirt and shorts he’d just slept in disappeared whilst he took the shower? Not only that but the very serious look on his father’s face indicated that any further argument could well be a huge mistake. Still, he’d decided, he certainly wasn’t going to wear a nappy and that was final.

After all he was twelve, and twelve year-olds don’t wear nappies. He may be a little smaller than some his age but on the football pitch he was a little terrier and one of the best players. He was fairly good-looking (or so his mum thought) with longish brown hair and brown eyes. Despite his veneer of confidence he approached his father with more than a little trepidation.

He noticed the thick fabric squares (more than one) which was a bit scary, the clear plastic pants like those he remembered his toddler cousin used to wear when visiting (he didn’t remember the days as a child he also used to wear them). Additionally, arranged on his dresser were a large canister of baby powder and several tubs of ointment. This was not looking like a simple threat, but he was adamant - no nappies.

“Dad, what is it I’m supposed to have done?” He implored as innocently as possible, though dreading his father knowing some of the things he (and his mates) had been up to.

“‘Supposed to have done’ ah! Acting innocent, eh? Well, that won’t work.” His dad fluffed out one of the large squares of white fabric and began to fold it.

“Dad this isn’t fair, if I don’t know what I’ve done I can’t...”

“Oh Robbie, Robbie, Robbie... I think you know only too well why this is happening and you’ve no one but yourself to blame.”

Robbie mentally tallied some of those things and then physically shivered at the more ‘suspect’ offences, wondering if those were also what his father now knew about. However, he figured, if he knew about all of them, and the big one, he doubted if having to wear a nappy for a couple of days would be his punishment it would be much worse. Not knowing was making him less sure and put him at a huge disadvantage. He began to feel vulnerable, especially as his dad was looking more and more determined.

“Dad this isn’t fair,” he was being as firm as he could, “I’m too old to wear a nappy and I’m not going to.” At least he was confident about that.

“Really,” his dad looked a bit more than pissed off at his son’s denial, “well we can visit other, more embarrassing, public punishments if you wish. I don’t think you’ll like them, and, in the end, you’d still end up wearing a nappy... but if you insist.”

The nappy was now folded, and his father indicated for him to lie out.

“It’s up to you Robert, last chance, this now or something less easy, well for you anyway...”

He’d never felt intimidated by his father before but there was something in his attitude that implied ‘mess with me at your peril’. He tried to ignore it but the thing was... a guilty conscience (in fact a very guilty conscience) was getting the better of Robbie - he was uncertain.

He knew he should be making a huge scene and storming off or swearing like his mates and demanding the independence any twelve-year-old deserved and to stop being treated as a child. But he was caught off-guard - what might be ‘less easy?’ but when he thought about it, he and the gang had done some terrible stuff.

The threat got the boy’s attention. His mind was full of appalling possibilities. He’d heard that some of his new friend’s parents weren’t afraid to take a belt to their wayward offspring and the idea of having a fiercely whipped arse had no appeal whatsoever. He dreaded pain, the few times growing up he’d been physically hurt made sure he stayed away from any confrontation where violence might happen. Even being in the gang he always maintained a distance between them and him... just in case.

However, his mind conjured up a terrible situation.

THWACK! (it was as if he could feel it) on his vulnerable bottom scared the hell out of him, not that his parents had ever said they’d do such a thing BUT, as his father was hinting, there’d be worse – public punishments - so that possibility flitted into his head and fuelled his worst case scenario.  

Some of the gang had intimated that physical punishment was almost a daily occurrence in their household and no amount of anti-smacking laws would change their parent’s attitude to discipline, even if it didn’t work. One lad had told him quite openly that his father had taken the belt to him after a visit from the police and he had to sit painfully at the dinner table on a hard chair as the family ate their meal. He’d shrugged when his mates told him what his dad had done was illegal, his reply, so was what he’d done so...?

~

Thoughts of rebellion, of simply refusing, of acting out and not giving a damn rippled through his mind. He was twelve and, as he kept saying to himself, twelve-year-old's do NOT wear nappies or get put in them either. This hadn’t happened to any of his friends, so he was certain it wasn’t going to happen to him. But a chilling other thought entered his head – what if it happened to his mates all the time, except, he didn’t know about it?

‘THWACK’ that thought triggered a fear he didn’t know he had. A catalogue of harsh and terrible punishments filled his brain and made him shudder in indecision. How could he rebel or even argue if that kind of violence was delivered to his bare bottom. What if, once delivered it became a regular event? What if...?

However, he was sure if any of his mates had suffered from any embarrassing punishments he’d know about it. BUT, what if, they were so ashamed it was something no one ever talked about? Being strapped was something you could talk about but being forced to wear a nappy, well, that was just too weird and embarrassing. What if there were loads of kids, teenage kids, being made to wear some form of padding as an alternative to receiving a beating and it was simply something that no one ever spoke about?

It was as if some strange influence had got into his head and all he could mentally experience was the pain that people were inflicting on him. In his imagination it wasn’t just his parents, in fact they were not to be seen, but stranger after stranger piling in and walloping him for having done what he’d done.

Aarrggg, it was all too much. Robbie needed to get rid of these scary thoughts, but how?

~

His recent truculent nature was suddenly suffering from uncertainty and for the first time in quite some time Robbie was at a loss of what to do. He knew he should be making a scene, denying everything, call his parent’s names and swear the house down, except he didn’t, he was conflicted. The part that knew he’d done wrong, even if he wasn’t sure which ‘wrong’ they knew about - was edging over the part demanding he fight back. Basically, he was a good boy gone rogue, but now he was held to account, the roguish element was undeniably slipping away.

What if... yes, again, what if...?

The idea that there was a secret world of punishment going on where everyone involved was so ashamed of mentioning it - it had become THE way of dealing with disrespectful, out-of-control and threatening youths. Although this thought didn’t make much sense it was now imbedded in his brain and had somehow settled as an actual punishment that happened, and worse still, happen to him.

Psychologically he could see the swish of the belt through the air and the sickening ‘THWACK’ as it met its target. He could hear his screams; he could feel his pain - he definitely didn’t want that to happen to him. But would a nappy be better than the strap? Would it be more effective than actual physical punishment? He was sure no kid his age would admit to such a thing... thus ensuring the secret would remain just that... a secret.

He trembled at the thought, the revolt, was this something he’d be able to rebel against? His parents were ‘nice’ people, surely, they wouldn’t want to embarrass him but still, if they not only insisted but the penalties for not doing so were worse, would it then be the secret all threatened teens kept... including him?

SWISH, THWACK - “Ooooowwwww” His desperate cry of sudden and direct pain may have been bouncing about in his head, but the reality now seemed an option. He was nervously sweating - not just at this possibility but the ensuing probability.

~

Robert stood there thinking just what he had done and dad knew about that he could apologise for and escape this ridiculous childish sentence. For the first time ever he felt intimidated by his father. He was in comparison quite small for his age but until that moment had never thought about it. However, at that moment, he felt tiny and timid. He tried to continue to dry himself to delay whatever was about to happen. Try as he might he couldn’t think of anything, well anything he would openly confess to.

There was ‘cheeking’ Mrs Oldershaw. There was a chance he knew about bunking off the last couple of periods at school but thought that wasn’t much of a crime. His part in a bit of schoolboy bullying, which didn’t sit well with him but nonetheless he’d been there. Then of course it was possible that the incident in the shop in town might have reached dad’s ears. That was where he and his mates wandered in and whilst the cashier was kept busy, he and a chum helped themselves to various snacks and booze (and this hadn’t been the first time or the first shop to receive the gang’s attention). However, he’d never admit to that, unless they had CCTV and could prove it. When he thought about it there were quite a number of ‘little’ things that his father could be angry about but until he had a better idea perhaps wearing a nappy for a day or two might be the easiest way out of whatever trouble he was in. The main thing was, as long as they didn’t know about his serious ‘crime’, which he hoped to take to the grave, then all might just be forgotten.

He suddenly decided it was a no-brainer, if he was going to be punished harshly AND still end up wearing a nappy, then he might as well jump straight to that and avoid any painful attention.

“Okay,” seeing this as a possible way out he reluctantly agreed.

“Very sensible, now, let’s get these on you,” he held up the white fabric triangle, “and then the... hmmmm... on second thoughts... Claire... can you come in here please?”

“Yes dear,” his wife appeared at the bedroom door carrying what looked like a supply of new towels.

Robbie was confused as to why mum would be just hanging around his bedroom like that.

“Do I need to put extra padding in?” Dad looked a little confused at the extra items that were next to the fabric squares on the bed.

“Of course love, but don’t forget the barrier cream first, make it thick and sure it’s spread everywhere, we don’t want our Robbie to get a rash now do we?” She smiled benevolently at her son.

“Yes, well I had that covered...” her hubby said a bit annoyed because he hadn’t asked for that instruction.

Robbie lay there, towel in hand and all but naked wondering why they were arguing over this but of course they weren’t. This was more ‘theatre’ for his benefit. They were making sure he knew this was a huge deal that they were taking seriously. So, although he was being punished for his misdemeanours, they were still going to take good care of him.

Mum busied herself clearing out his underwear drawer, bagging up underpants, boxers and trunks and replacing those items with this fresh ‘laundry’. She then dug deep into another bag and pushed unopened packs of plastic pants in beside the pile of new fleecy terry nappies. Finally, she pulled nappy pins from her pocket and left them in a little dish next to the baby powder. Her boy was going to be well-cared for, the pins had white plastic ducky safety covers.

She then looked on in a supervisory capacity as hubby started the nappying process. Meanwhile, a nervous and confused Robbie turned beet red under scrutiny from both parents. It was scary that they seemed to think this was perfectly acceptable behaviour.

“You’ll need to use a booster pad and nappy liner before you pin it all together, it will make cleaning him up after any little accidents that much easier.” Claire added as she passed her hubby the items and a couple of safety pins.

“WHAT?” Robbie all but screamed and clamping a hand over his naked genitals.

“What, what?” his dad replied as he smacked his hand away, whilst inserting the things his wife had just suggested and pulling the multi-layered fabric up between the boy’s legs.

“I’m not going to shit in a nappy... I... errrrr....”

His dad gave him a second quick slap to his naked thigh “Language Robert, I’ll not tell you again.”

Although the slaps didn’t hurt there seemed to be a warning that had to be taken seriously. Was this just the start of a much more violent regime? It scared him to think that might be the case. However, the material felt really thick as it was pulled up and left him unsure if he’d be able to cope with such an item wrapped around his genitals.

Despite a half-hearted struggle dad pinned the thick, soft fabric tightly around his son’s wriggling waist.

“Dad please,” he begged, “I can’t be seen wearing a nappy I’m a grown...”

“Of course, you can sweetheart” Mum intervened as she saw the first tears begin to form in the corner of his eyes. “You’ll be wearing one from now on or until we see a huge improvement in your behaviour and an actual understanding of what you’ve been up to... and more especially... why we think this is necessary.” Her smile was benign but firm as she admired her hubby’s work. Her voice was soothing even if the message was chilling. Meanwhile, she flapped out a pair of smooth, clear plastic pants.

~

Mr and Mrs Davison had decided that their only son Robert (Robbie) was at an age where hormones and attitude kick in. They knew he was becoming, well, a teenager, but there’d been a very noticeable deterioration in his behaviour both at home and in school for almost a year. They knew he was part of a group that had been ‘disruptive’ in class and no doubt had been equally annoying at all other times. They suspected he’d been up to all manner of stupid, possibly illicit and undoubtedly antisocial activities... even if they didn’t know exactly what all of them were.

Twelve years old and at that age, when a firm hand can be easily swatted away, where a parent’s authority has begun to diminish greatly and a time where his friends and what they say (and incite) matter more than anything else, meant something needed to be done. It is most parents worry that their offspring might go down a road of wrong choices: criminal, anti-social or any manner of other unacceptable activities. Thomas and Claire Davison were determined that if they got in first, made him guilty about what he thought they might know, then they stood a chance of keeping their son as they wanted him.

“Keep him guessing,” that had been the idea, to not agree or disclose exactly what it was they knew. That way, and hoping they knew their son, he’d be on the defensive, anxious and, they hoped, so unsettled that he would comply, albeit reluctantly, to their decisions.

Up until relatively recently Robert had always been a good boy, not perfect, but good. However, reports from school, neighbours and homelife (attitude) had seen a complete turnabout that had made him become – unpleasant.  This was a side that Claire in particular didn’t want to see develop, so, with the agreement of hubby, set about coming up with something that would change him back to the likeable little scamp he used to be.

Of course, they ran the risk that whatever they said or did might rebound but thought, for the sake of their only son, they had to try. Although they’d planned their action, it was still an ad hoc situation as they didn’t know what reaction they’d get. They had no idea that the spontaneous threat of ‘something worse’ had already had such an effect so he was at present cowed and scared of speaking up too much. As their action continued Robert’s worry about this warning and what he had done became a bonus (although they were unaware of it), to keep him where they wanted him - nervous of terrible (but undisclosed) retribution.

Once the course of action was decided, they hoped that guilt, terror of discovery and an agenda where all choices were made for him (but in a caring, loving way) made his involvement unequivocal. Any time he questioned them about why they were doing this they simply put it back to him that he knew why and until he recognised and admitted his own complicity in this punishment then the penalty would continue.

This was infuriating for him because he had no idea exactly what it all meant apart from the fact, he would be wearing a nappy for a while.

How or why taking him back to wearing a nappy had come up in discussions neither was sure. Maybe Claire had read an article about kids not acting their age and this had been deemed a suitable punishment. However, even if she hadn’t read about such a reaction, she fondly remembered those happy nappy times when he was a toddler, that idea stuck so thought it worth a try. They also believed that by being supportive of his nappy wearing, just as they were when a child, and praising him each time he used it, they could convince him it was less of a punishment and simply a reminder.

~

Mastigophobia: irrational fear of punishment.

No one knew the word, no one knew where this sensible phobia had come from, but it had taken up residency in Robbie’s subconscious.

The nappy, though appalling for a lad his age, was at least bearable... well maybe.

~  tbc ~

[I have sinned]

Thanks everyone and I think we can agree that on this occasion... Gran's know a thing or two about their grand kids.😃

Hugs to all

Les

[I have sinned]

I have sinned.

The shower was warm but my body felt cold. The supposedly gentle healing spray could do nothing to stop the physical and mental truth – I had sinned.

Lying on the bathroom floor was proof of the defilement I’d visited on my own body. The evidence of my weak will, my compulsion, my sick, disgusting and pathetic need.

I cried out for forgiveness, though the water gurgled in my mouth and made the words a mockery. Would the Almighty believe I was sincere in my avowed intention of never doing it again? Would he let me confess to my wrongdoing and permit me a free and unblemished conscience? Would he look to the times I’d begged for forgiveness in the past and seen me return repeatedly to wallow in my sinful ways?

I fell to my knees, the rejuvenating spray bouncing off my body, as I pleaded for another chance.

The water ran cold... I’d been given His reply.

#

In the back garden I burned the very things I’d promised to destroy and undertook all the necessary requirements to prove I was truly repentant and it would never happen again. My lovely special clothes, the slippery, glossy protection, my padded delights by the package load I threw onto those all-engulfing flames. Would that be enough to satisfy Him of my desire to be perfect once more?

It wasn’t easy. I waivered more than once, tears of regret but determination coursing down my smoky cheeks. This was the correct thing to do – I was enthralled in the sin I’d had for such a long time. The one where I could, for just a little while escape from the busy and demanding world. Finding solace in the embrace of a simple piece of clothing that not only protected me but became a friend. Had I abused that comfort once to many times?

But I was wrong. Sin is sin if we don’t follow the Heaven sent rules that Pastor De Auro proclaimed on his LOVE, PEACE AND BROTHERHOOD Channel. Sin! I’d never regarded anything I’d done as a sin but over recent days it had become clear, thanks to the good Pastor, I’d been fooling myself.

Ever since grandma had found this channel on her TV, one I bought to replace her aging and useless tiny set, it had been the only thing she watched. She knew she didn’t have long left; a terrible cough, aching bones and a bent back, together with the crippling cancer that was eating away at her, she’d found solace in the words of the Pastor.

“Listen to his truth,” she often directed me to sit with her and listen. She was an old eighty years old. Some people of her age are sprightly and can do anything, not grandma, she sat and sewed and watched TV but only that particular channel.

#

Grandma had taken me in when I was twelve and mummy had passed away. She occasionally called me Marty but that isn’t my name, that was the name of my twin brother who died when we were three. I’m Alan and we’d both conquered potty training and celebrated the lack of nappies to the joy of our close family when a sudden bout of pneumonia swept the country and affected Marty worse. He was bedridden, weak and returned to protection. Unfortunately, inside two weeks he was gone.

Dad couldn’t cope with mum’s depression, nor the fact that it was Marty who’d died and not me. I don’t know how dad had a favourite but it became clear that it certainly wasn’t me. I was delivered twenty seven minutes after Marty but I just never matched up to dad’s idea of his perfect first born son. He hated me and mum after my brother’s death and by the time I was seven he’d made our lives a misery and eventually and quite suddenly disappeared. We had no warning, or suspected a thing; one morning he was there, the next he wasn’t.

Over the years mum’s depression got worse and when I was twelve she took her own life. I was left on my own but that didn’t matter to anyone except Grandma, she took me in and despite the deprivations an old woman had to contend with, brought me up the best she could. By then I was a wreck myself, wet mornings were nothing new but after mum went I wet the bed almost permanently and there was a gloom about me that didn’t garner any friends and very little sympathy.

When I arrived at Grans house she had a room ready for me but, and she made no bones about this, it was adapted to my needs. That meant I wore nappies and plastic pants all the time; the bed had a protective rubber sheet and a chart on the bedroom door kept track of my wet mornings and daytime accidents. She said she wasn’t being cruel but wanted me to be aware of my problem and hoped I’d try harder to ‘snap out of it.’

+

There was very little spare money for disposables but Gran, a professional seamstress all her life, had a ready supply of material that she quickly turned into fabric nappies for my use. Since I’d be living in her house she also supervised their removal and any changes – as she said, to keep an eye out for any infection. I wasn’t in any position to complain and Gran had been a constant in my life and held her in loving high regard.

Because of her skill with fabric and a sewing machine she’d always made clothes for me and Marty when we were toddlers. Mum and dad were always proud of their sons walking down the street dressed in unique but matching outfits.

Even when there was just me and mum (and money was at a premium) she’d come round baring a new set of clothes she’d put together, She not only had an eclectic array of materials, she also had quite an eccentric taste. Even if we weren’t that keen on it mum always said that as she’d gone to such trouble to create something special we had to wear it, which we did. Gran was never happier than when she saw her latest offering being worn as we went about our daily lives.

Gran was a constant and a woman I loved. She was always a person who tried to cheer me up and was one of the few who, after dad had left us, could make me smile. Her collection of the weird and wonderful creations didn’t stop and I’d find myself happily wearing some bizarre clothes. She even made me special underwear because she thought I might like to try something different to my usual cotton briefs. Silks, satins, nylon, she’d encourage me to be daring and different and when she made me laugh it never occurred to say “no.” With granny I was a happy boy

So, when we lived together, and despite our frugal existence (the only money seemed to be a small pension she had), we got on remarkably well. She made almost all my new clothes and, although some might say they weren’t quite aimed at a boy my age, they sufficed. Over my night time nappy she’d made several sets of cute pyjamas using all the bits and pieces of fabric she’d collected over the years. So, one day I could be going to bed in a flannelette night shirt, another night a pair of frilly satin or silky shorts, and then on other occasions large cotton onesies. That was her passion, even at her advanced age, and though in other areas she was failing, whilst her eyesight stayed and her fingers kept nimble, she’d work on all manner of odds and sods for me to wear. Some of the more fancy stuff, with frills and bows for instance, I never wore out but was quite happy to keep her happy by wearing them about the house. She loved to see me in one of her creations, no matter how bizarre or inappropriate it might have seemed to anyone else.

There was never any argument, well, not much but as she decided what I’d wear once the usual soggy nappy was changed, I had very little say in what followed. I didn’t complain because most of the time it was just me and her and if she was happy, so was I. I loved my grandma and she loved and understood me.

#

My school days were always with extra padding under my uniform but Gran insisted that I made sure the smell of pee was only in my room and made me take regular showers and keep “...that area down there” clean and tidy.

Despite everything, Gran brought me up pretty well and I responded to her constant encouragement and support. She helped where she could with my homework and I became quite an academic student. I left school with a handful of certificates that got me a very good job almost straight away and I was able to at last begin to pay my way and give Gran a slightly better standard of living than she’d so far endured.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t take too much advantage of this fact as her health began to deteriorate. Grandma had my mother rather late and we twins were fairly late when we eventually arrived. It was as if, now I could fend for myself (and oddly enough, as soon as my exams and school was over, I stopped wetting the bed), the fight went out of her and her decline was a daily thing we had to consider.

Just a quick note of how Gran’s sewing skills proved successful – on my first job interview I’d decided to wear my only suit, a rather dowdy brown one with a shirt and tie. Gran decided that I looked like I couldn’t care less and spent the night creating something to ‘jazz it up’. The following morning she produced a brightly coloured satin paisley waistcoat (and matching tie) to wear. I was dubious but she insisted it would make me stand out from the crowd of other applicants. I thought perhaps for the wrong reasons but, as it turned out, she was correct and I got the job. In fact, the boss who was interviewing me made a point of asking about it and I had to confess to Gran’s involvement. He was very impressed with her work and that I was looking after my granny and I got the job. The vibrant waistcoats became my trademark and were surprisingly much admired.

+

Thankfully, because I was doing quite well financially we kept the rent paid up to date, the utilities were never behind and I was able to drive her for the occasional day trip to the sea side. That was about as far as we could go or that she wanted to go, she always preferred her own bed and insisted that if she got worse, she wanted to die at home and not a hospital. I was made to promise I’d make sure that happened.

With Gran going to bed earlier and earlier each night I found myself craving for the affection I remembered when I wore nappies. Gran never stopped loving me, but I could hardly ask her, now I was in my early twenties, to start nappying me again so, I decided I do it myself.

It was amazing, the stress of looking after her and keeping ahead of the game at work was relieved by binding myself in at night, pulling up a pair of plastic pants, and letting my body enjoy the comfort and security a nappy offered.

Many of the things she’d made for me I got to alter slightly so they fit and I gained a whole new set of accessories that played into my secret fantasy. I was sure Gran didn’t know what I was up to but she might have... still if she did she didn’t say anything.

My work life and my fantasy life were working well together, that was until the pandemic which, like for a lot of companies, saw the one I worked for fold and I was out of a job.

I found myself at home and watching TV with Gran and her only channel was with Pastor De Auro and his many friends; The Golden Mission they called it. They showed films about that mission and how it worked. The foreign churches and schools they’d built, the water project now enjoyed by smiling brown faces and who had never seen running water before. There was also no doubt that the Pastor was one hell of a salesman. I of course was sceptical but Gran was transfixed and I even saw her whispering a prayer every now and then, something I’d never seen her do before.

We had very little spare cash but Gran wanted us to send all we had to his ‘mission’ but I only pretended to. She said it would help “oil the wheels” for when her time came. Besides, the Pastor was doing such a wonderful job with those kiddies overseas in his outreach programme, all the while doing a great job of spreading the words of the Almighty.

Up until she’d found the LP&B Channel I’d never thought of Gran being that religious. I mean, she was never irreligious but church and Sunday observances were never high on her agenda. I suppose, when you feel your time is about to end, you want to make sure that if there is another place, you go to the one that has the better Public Relations

+

It was a strange moment when I found out I was a sinner. Gran had fallen asleep in the chair but the Pastor was still preaching. At one point, and I swear this is true, he looked straight down the camera at me and said that - if I was finding pleasure in things and not people, if I was content to pleasure only myself, if I was more interested in the love of self over the love of the Holy Spirit... I was a sinner.

The obvious personal attack, and the fact that losing my job had left me at a very low ebb, hit me hard. Every single word he was saying was like a slur on my life and lifestyle and, if I didn’t want to end up some poor useless and ungodly creature, I had to immediately change my ways. There was no doubt that Pastor De Auro was a charismatic, born again crusader whose declared intention was to save those in desperate need of Salvation.

His sermon was direct, unequivocal and denouncing. Each word and nuance hit me like a bullet, he was definitely talking about me, me, ME. I swallowed hard but the diatribe continued but I didn’t feel I could switch it off. I was held spellbound and in the grip of THE TRUTH. I needed to change my ways.

As I sat and took in his words I found myself guiltily filling the token of pleasure wrapped around my groin and though not for the first time felt the shame of my obsession. His words had not only pricked my conscience they had pierced me over and over again. Once or twice in the past I have had these knee-jerk reactions to my own thoughts or some comment from others but this time... looking directly down the camera, I knew I was the sinner he was talking about. What’s more I knew his accusatory way was directly as a result of my love of wearing nappies.

So, hoping to rid myself of sin and shame... I burned the lot.

+

For the next week I mooched around feeling vulnerable and depressed. The Pastor had gotten into my head and I found it difficult to shake off his personal route to Salvation. I tried telling myself he was wrong but his words simply echoed around my head, reinforcing the condemnation and making me feel like the true sinner I was.

Grandma asked what was wrong. I found it hard to put into words what I was that made me a sinner and just how much the Pastor’s sermon had affected me. I’d always been able to lift Gran if she were feeling the effects of her illness but now I thought how could I, a sinner, relieve anyone else’s pain. I felt a fraud, a charlatan, an outlaw who’d enjoyed his obsession, his passion, his escape... his SIN... without a thought for the true damage I was doing to myself and in so doing, possibly others. I just hadn’t thought about it in those terms until Pastor De Auro had called me out.

Gran was fading fast and I felt useless to help. The social services and doctor who visited had quietly told me to prepare myself for the worst but, what was I going to do without her? I’d been so wrapped up in my pleasure I’d not given much, if any, thought to what might happen when that time came. The Pastor was correct, I was a self-centred sinner.

Eventually, one night gran and I were sat next to each other on the sofa watching the TV, well, the Pastor’s channel, and she whispered that she knew I hadn’t sent the money off.

“Yer sorry gran, I thought they were just a con but...”

“No, no, sweetheart, you were right, the whole bloody thing’s a scam and I nearly fell for it.”

I could hardly believe my ears.

“Has the Pastor’s words affected you?” She held my hand, hers was frail and cold but despite that there was a strength in her misty eyes. I nodded.

“Is that why you’re moping around the house like it’s you that’s dying and not me?” She forced a half-smile. I nodded again but her hand seemed to warm in mine and he voice found further strength. “Then sweetheart take no notice. I was a fool to think a man on TV could make a difference, to stop time, to give a second chance but, try as I might, if he makes my lovely, thoughtful, loving, grandson unhappy, then it’s him whose the devil and not you.”

I was embarrassed to tell her why his words had had such an effect.

“Alan,” she didn’t call me Marty, “you have been my constant companion since you were born. You may not have known it but both your mother and I relied on you after your dad, erm, walked out.” A shiver ran down my spine.

“But” I pointed at the screen with the Pastor in full flow, “he said I was a sinner for liking, erm, well...erm...” I stalled. I didn’t want to say the word nappies but that’s exactly what I meant.

“Ahh,” she grasped my reluctance, “your love of nappies?” Again I guiltily nodded. “Well love, I’ve been supplying you with those things since you were a baby and, as you got older saw just what they meant, sorry, mean to you.”

The warmth in her hand was now radiating through me as she appeared to strengthen in spirit. “It hasn’t been a secret in this household because it was one to be encouraged not hidden away.” I was speechless as she continued. “Of course, you may have wanted to keep it all private and under-wraps,” she chortled at her own joke, “but those nappies and your childish attitude has been more positive than negative. I’ve loved every minute of inspiring you, creating new items, providing stuff to make you feel how you wanted to...” she coughed, this was becoming a strain. She took a deep breath but had to settle back and wait for her second wind.

“Sorry Gran,” I murmured, “I burned everything because he said I had sinned. So I have nothing left even though it hurts not to be me. I’m sorry if I’ve let you down.”

I don’t know if I was making any sense, or even if she heard me, but saw that her eyes were closed and she appeared to be asleep or resting. Her breathing eased and she looked at peace so I wondered if I should help her up to bed like I had done many times. As I shook her she appeared to get a second breath.

“Alan love, you have nothing to be sorry for.” She pulled me in closer to hear her frail voice, “Under my bed there are many, many things I’ve made for you for when I’m gone... go and get them and wear them with pride... because I am and always will be proud of the sweetest boy who ever lived. You have nothing to feel guilty about and that Pastor...” she pointed at the screen that was still on, “can go to hell” and angrily brandishing the remote switched it off with a flourish.

+

Gran’s words were amazing. She’d lifted my from my depths of despair and given me something no one else could ever do. I was elated at her incredible understanding and the final act of shutting down the Pastor was the gift that made everything all right.

I helped her up to bed and she made me take the two suitcases of things from under her bed and put them in my room.

“You’ll find all you need for the immediate future in them my love and I hope you enjoy...” again she seemed tired as, over the past few minutes, it had been taxing for her to pull all her energy together.

“Thank you Gran,” I stroked her face as she settled under her wool blankets, “you know me better than anyone so I should have known you knew about my ‘secret’ ways.”

She smiled a weak smile, “Sweetheart, you’ve always been an open and honest book to me... I love everything about you...” her voice trailed off.

“I’ll let you sleep Gran, I love you too...” I kissed her cheek and heard her murmur she loved me too. I turned off her light, her small frame covered by her favourite blanket – she was in the place she wanted to be. It was a moment, a shiver and a strange pain hit my heart as I closed the door and made my way back to my own room.

“Night-night gran” I somehow knew it would be the last time I’d ever say those words.

+

It’s now two weeks since Gran died and I’ve just buried her in the grave next to grandad as per instructions. The two cases did indeed carry all the things she said for my immediate comfort. Amongst a whole array of clothing she’d made some incredible fleecy nappies which I never wanted to take off. There were also a bundle of fantastic items that were both childish, outrageous but comfortable, just as she said there would be. She also left details for her funeral (and who not to invite – Mrs Trembor for a start, she couldn’t stand that interfering woman). It was a small list but her choice of funeral music was exceptional and, not what I’d expect an old lady of eighty plus to want - “Going Underground” by the Jam.

There was yet another thing that was especially important and that was her will. Everything was left to me, which I presumed was nothing because she had nothing, I was wrong. Gran was sitting on a huge inheritance from her husband and family, which she never used. Except, she had used quite a lot, one thing she confessed in her last will and testament was that she paid off dad to go. He was making mum and me unhappy so she paid him £100k to disappear, which he happily did.

Meanwhile there was more. Apparently, my mum had fallen out with her father, my grandad, over the marriage. She wanted nothing to do with his money and refused point-blank to accept any of it. Gran was able, at times of trouble, to filter the odd amount into our coffers to help out. Mum didn’t know about that either. Now, as the solicitor has just informed me, there’s a considerable sum of money coming my way. When he told me the amount I have to confess that I wet my thick granny-designed fleecy nappy in excitement.

Gran, I love you and the life you’ve always given me and continue to do so.

I shall wear my soggy nappies with pride and in memory of the woman who understood me more than I understood myself.

I raised a glass.

“To my loving, knowing and perceptive best friend... Gran.”

#### the end ###

[Samantha's Lesson (re-post)]

Thanks for the like but not planning a follow up - sorry

[Never More Content - Part 1-5 end]

Glad you guys found this story and liked it... it's one of my favourites as well.

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[The Wendler Regression Academy]

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