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Introduction What would happen if, no matter how old you are, your parents found your stash? Well, on an already miserable day, that’s exactly what happened to Tom. How will both he and his dad handle it? Chapter 1 - Rejection ‘Well, thank you for coming in today, myself and the panel will discuss the interview and the recruiter will get back to you in due course’. Tom could see in the eyes of the interviewer it was going to be another rejection. He couldn’t understand it, just over a year ago he’d graduated with a 2:1 in Architecture. He thought he’d walk into a job, but he’d applied to every company he could find, and had 15 interviews never getting further than the second round. He couldn’t understand it, what was he doing wrong? Whatever it was it wasn’t how he presented himself. He looked gorgeous in his grey slim fit suit and smart tan shoes. He is 5’9, short jet black hair, with beautiful bright blue eyes, but I guess it’s what you say in interview which is important, not how you look. He stood up, grabbed his posh leather bag his dad had gotten him for his graduation, shook the panel’s hands and made his way out into the busy London street. No sooner had he stepped out the building a rough looking man bumped into him with a cigarette burning a hole right into the shoulder. ‘Hey!’ said Tom. ‘Fuck off, prick’ cursed the man as he hurried on. It was the final straw, a tear rolled down Tom’s face. He couldn’t take much more of life at this point. Everything was falling apart, or that’s how it felt. 23, no job, no friends who are local, his mum has passed away and he’s still living with his grieving dad Steve. After travelling back by train Tom let himself into the house and rushed straight upstairs to his room. ‘How’d the interview go?’ called his Dad from his study. ‘Crap’ shouted back Tom. Once in the room he started to undress. He hung up his suit jacket and inspected the burn. Maybe it could be repaired? Probably not, now he doesn’t even have a suit if he gets another interview. Nevertheless he took off the trousers and placed the suit in its special bag like always, before putting it in the wardrobe. He grabbed his joggers and a t-shirt and turned to lay on his bed, but as he did, he saw something which made his blood run cold. Could this day get any worse? His worst nightmare was lying in front of him. His heart thumped in his chest as if it was about to exit it. His face flushed red, sweat started to bead on his forehead, panic started to set in. Lying there in front of him was one of his adult nappies, and on it a note. “Hey son, let’s talk, love Dad”. Tom had bought these nappies a few months back from a medical supply company whilst his Dad had been away for work. He’d been interested in them for a while. He’d enjoyed the few he’d tried but he’d not had the courage to wear them once his dad got back. He’d hidden them under his bed in a carrier bag, but clearly his dad had found them. He couldn’t believe it, how could this happen? For an hour he sat there thinking of excuses he could make, plausible stories he could tell. “They’re not mine”. “I’ve been having bedwetting problems”, “I…” none of them seemed convincing. He didn’t feel like he could leave the room. After at least an hour and a half his dad called ‘dinner!’ Heart thumping and head racing he made his way down the stairs. He was physically shaking. When he saw his Dad at the table, he froze. ‘So you don’t think they’ll ask you back?’ asked his Dad. ‘No’ Tom tried to say, but nothing came out. ‘No’ he said eventually in his third attempt. ‘Sit down it’s getting cold’ said his Dad gesturing to Toms dinner. Tom made his way over and sat down in silence. For a short while they both ate, but Tom really wasn’t hungry, if anything he felt sick. He just shuffled his food around. When his dad had finished he reached out and put his had on Tom’s. ‘Talk to me Tom’ he said gently, trying to make eye contact. Tom was physically shaking, he couldn’t speak, he was living his worst nightmare. His Dad lent across to him. ‘I found your nappies mate’ he said. Just hearing that out loud drove through Tom like a train. ‘They’re not mine’ he blurted out. It was like a reflex, he heard himself say it, but he didn’t think he’d actually processed what he was going to say yet. His dad gave him a soft smile. ‘I know they’re yours son’. He said softly. ‘Tell me why’ he asked. Tom put his shaking hands over his eyes, tears now starting to well up. ‘Please talk to me son’. ‘I’m sorry Dad, I’m such a failure. I’ve got no friends, I don’t have any hobbies, I can’t get a job, I’m going nowhere. I’m a disappointment. If mum were alive she’d be heartbroken at what a useless adult I’ve become’. ‘Oh don’t be silly’ said his Dad. ‘You’re going through a tough time, I know, we both are, but you have your whole life ahead of you. You’re only 23’ Tom couldn’t look at his Dad, he still had his hands over his eyes. ‘I just wish things were like years ago, when mum was alive, when I was carefree and….happy’ sobbed Tom. ‘Is that why you bought the nappies?’ His dad asked gently. ‘I dunno, I dunno why I bought them’ said Tom regretfully. ‘Do they take you back, to a happy place? Are they a stress reliever for you or something?’ His dad enquired. ‘I guess so, I’m sorry, I’ll throw them away, please don’t think I’m a weirdo or a sicko dad, please’ said Tom. ‘I don’t, I understand, if they relax you and you want to wear them that’s fine. I wore them myself for a bit when I was your age’. Tom immediately pulled his face out of his hands. That was an unexpected sentence. ‘What?’ Said Tom in shock. ‘I wore nappies as a stress reliever, to regress for a few years, never did me any harm, better than drugs or booze’. Said his dad dismissively. Tom didn’t know what to say, he just stared at his dad in shock, and in a strange sense, relief. His dad got up and gestured to Tom to get up and give him a hug. Tom obliged, got up and put his arms around his Dad. ‘You’re still shaking’ he said. ‘This might be the perfect time for one of those nappies’. Chapter 2 - Relief When Tom went back into his room the nappy was still there laying on the bed. Half of him desperately wanted to put it on the other half wanted to throw it out the window. Eventually the half that wanted to wear it won out and he started to unfurl it. After he’d just had permission to hadn’t he? He slowly pulled down his joggers, pulled down his boxers and sat himself on the nappy. He laid back for a moment and stared at the ceiling. “What am I doing?” He repeated to himself, but his desire to carry on pushed through and he slowly and carefully applied the 4 tapes of his Tena Maxi adult nappy. He slowly closed his legs. The nappy popped and crinkled as it resisted. The feeling was amazing, he could feel the stress of this bizarre day drain away. After a while his dad called up. ‘You can come down you know, I want to watch Traitors’. Tom and his Dad had been watching it on catchup together each evening. Tom stood up, his nappy crinkling, not overly loudly, but noticeably in a quiet room. He pulled the joggers over it and looked in the mirror. It wasn’t noticeable from the front. He made his way down and quickly sat in the chair, so his dad couldn’t notice or tell. Tom was hugely into the Traitors on TV, but his mind was elsewhere tonight. As his dad commented on it, he just managed the occasional “yeah” instead of the usual debate. Eventually it finished and his dad switched off the TV. He looked across at Tom expectantly. ‘So did you put one on?’ He asked. Tom paused for a moment. ‘Yeah’ he said shyly. ‘Feel better now?’ asked his Dad. Tom breathed out slowly. ‘Yeah, I guess I do’. He said eventually. ‘Good’ said his dad. If that’s all it takes to relax you, just wear them son, I won’t judge. ‘Can I ask a practical question though?’ ‘What?’ asked Tom uncertain. ‘Do you, wet yourself?’ His dad asked plainly. ‘No!’ exclaimed Tom, as if it was a ridiculous question. He’d worn three on his own, and it had not remotely occurred to him to wet them. It was just the feeling of the bulk he liked. He wasn’t about to start wetting himself! ‘I mean, it’s not a crazy thing to ask Tom’ his Dad said. ‘You’re wearing a nappy and I ask if you wet yourself’. There was an awkward pause. ‘Well, if you do have an accident, I’ll put some bin bags in your room. Take it off, ball it up, put it in the bag, tie it up and put it outside your door, I’ll get rid of it. Don’t put it in the bins in the house, they can smell after a bit’. ‘Oh for god sake dad, I don’t wet myself!’ Repeated Tom as he got up to leave the room. ‘Hey’ called his dad grabbing his arm. ‘Don’t walk off on me, I’m being understanding and supportive. ‘It was a perfectly reasonable question and I wanted to make sure we have a plan for it’. ‘I know, sorry Dad, it’s just weird that’s all’ said Tom genuinely. ‘I guess I’m just embarrassed, y’know’. ‘Yeah I get that son, wearing a nappy is embarrassing, but it’s nothing to be ashamed of, people wear them for all sorts of reasons. As long as they’re helping you, it’s all good, I’m proud of you for talking to me about it at all and doing what makes you happy. I don’t think I could have handled it so well with my dad if he ever found mine’. Tom thought to ask his Dad if he ever wet his nappies, but it just felt too weird. Chapter 3 - The bathroom problem Tom stood in the bathroom cleaning his teeth, then habitually turned to the toilet to do a wee before getting into bed. As he went to grab it his hand slammed into his pad, not his boxers, opps. He reached inside and tried to pull it out the top, but he’s not that well endowed and it wouldn’t reach well enough even with the nappy pulled right down, he’d just pee all over himself. He tucked himself back down, squatted and reached into a leg guard. The guard was tight, but he managed to get the head out and point it to the toilet. He tried to go, but the pressure of the leg guard was stopping the flow. He squatted even more, and eventually wee squirted out, some in the loo, some up the wall and some in the bath. It was very awkward, and it had made a huge mess, but eventually he was done. He hurriedly started to clean up bathroom. Once in his room, he dropped his joggers, took off his t-shirt and looked at himself in the mirror. Like before, half of him thought he looked good with the nappy on, the other half thought he looked like a freak. For a moment he planned to take it off, but ultimately decided against it, he didn’t have many, he didn’t have any money and he didn’t want to waste it. He pulled on his pjs over the top of it. It took a while before he fell asleep, the feel of the nappy seemed somewhat overwhelming. It was keeping him awake, but eventually he did drop of. … He looked over at the clock with one eye, 3:10am. He woke up for a wee at this time every night. For a split second he thought about going in his nappy, but it was just a second. He made his way to the bathroom, where exactly the same thing happened as earlier, except worse, because this time he was half asleep. Like before he hurriedly cleaned up, to what he thought was a good standard, and made his way back to bed. … The following morning, he woke as usual and made his way downstairs. ‘Jam on toast?’ asked his Dad? ‘Yes please’ said Tom still a little sleepy. As his Dad made breakfast, he turned to Tom. ‘Ok, here’s something I gotta say’. He said. ‘If you’re going to wear those nappies in my house, I’d much rather you wee in it and cleanly dispose of it, than wee all over the bathroom’ he said waving the butter knife. ‘Sorry, I thought I cleared up’ said Tom in a bit of a panic. ‘I just need some practice, sorry’. ‘Tom’s’ dad turned around. ‘If you want to wear, but still use the loo. I’ll get you some pull-ups, but if you’re in those it’s just not really practical, unless you remove it, which of course pretty much ruins it. Tom thought again about asking his dad if he’d wet his, but like before it just felt odd and creepy to ask his dad that. ‘I’ll try sitting next time’ said Tom. Chapter 4 - A Subscription! It may surprise you to know that after his shower that day Tom put on regular underpants. He’d had his fill, in fact for the next 2 days, no more nappy and it was only mentioned a couple of times by his dad, gently enquiring whether he was wearing one or not. That doesn’t mean Tom hadn’t thought about what had happened virtually every waking minute. It was just that after the initial rush it just felt too awkward to go about his normal daily routine at home, in front of his dad, with a nappy on. That initial confidence had been lost. Tom was at his computer at about 11am, his Dad was in his study downstairs working. He’s a self employed accountant, he works from home most days, only occasionally going into the city to meet a client. There was a knock at the door. “Sign here please mate” Tom heard the delivery driver say, before several thud sounds. Tom made his way down curiously. In the hall his Dad was positioning 3 large boxes. ‘What you ordered?’ asked Tom. His dad stepped back with a big proud grin. ‘Open one’ he said. Tom stepped forward and pulled the tape off of the box on top and flapped it open. ‘Nappies!?!’ He said in shock. ‘Why have you ordered nappies?’ Tom said with a look of confusion on his face. ‘Because you told me you like to wear them, so I’ve ordered you them for you.’ Tom looked at the huge pile. 21 per pack, 3 in a box, 3 boxes. 189 nappies! ‘Well how many are you expecting me to get through?’ He asked incredulously. ‘I don’t know, but you save on delivery if you spend over £80 and get 10% off if you sign up for a subscription, so I got 3 cases’. ‘A subscription!’ Tom said almost shouting. ‘It’s ok, I can cancel it, there’s no commitment’ said his dad waving it off. ‘Look they’re there if you want one. You feel stressed, or just want one they are there. Take a pack up to your room, I’ll store the rest in the spare room’. Tom walked up to his room carrying his bag of nappies. He couldn’t decide what he thought about it. It had been great that his dad hadn’t freaked out, it had been a huge relief his dad was so supportive, but buying him 3 cases without asking? As Tom looked at the nappies in the pack on his bed next to him, he had an odd feeling. He wanted to put one on of course, but he also now felt this uncomfortable expectation from his that he would, and that if he didn’t his dad be oddly disappointed that he’d wasted his money. He put the pack to one side and made his way downstairs. He tapped on his dad’s study door. ‘I’ve got to ask dad, why have you ordered me three cases of nappies without asking me if I want them?’ His dad turned around on his office chair and took off his reading glasses. ‘Because son, if I’d have asked if you wanted me to order them you’d have said no, and I know you want them deep down. You can’t afford them, and you’d not order when I’m here even if you could, so I just ordered them for you. Save you the anxiety. You’re under no obligation, they’re there if you want them’. Chapter 5 - No obligation Tom’s days were not as full as they could be. He’d get up, have breakfast and then go on the job hunting sites. If there was anything to apply for, he’d apply for it. Generally though he was done by lunchtime and scratching around for something to do. Today was one of those days, he’d applied for one job, he didn’t really like the sound of it, but it was that or apply for nothing. He went over to the pack of nappies that had just arrived and pealed them open. They were the same make as the ones he’d bought, but these were the highest absorbency ‘Ultima’ version. He pulled one out, and held it. Just holding it in his hand gave him a buzz. He un furled it and felt the contrast been the smooth plastic outer shell and soft padded inside. It gave him a magical, warm and excited feeling inside. He slowly pulled down his jeans, then his boxers and laid himself on the bed. Slowly and carefully he pulled the nappy up snuggly between his legs and securely taped it on. Instantly the day went from empty and dull to a whirlwind of emotion. He no longer felt bored, he felt excited. The nappy, that his own dad had bought him no less, sat comfortably and reassuringly between his legs. He reached down and felt it. The bulk was considerable, his man parts locked away beneath the thick padding. He laid on his bed in just his t-shirt and nappy, just enjoying the moment for a while, before lifting himself up from his dreamlike state to stand. The nappy pushed between his legs. As his walked over to his mirror he could feel its presence with every step. He looked at himself in the mirror. He liked what he saw, he thought it looked both cute and smart all at the same time. … “Knock-knock” ‘Hi son I’m done, fancy a walk?’ Called his dad through the door. Tom dived to the floor to grab his jeans and then tried to pull them on in a panic. As he did, his door started to open. Before long he was standing there in front of his dad, trousers half up in a t-shirt and nappy. ‘Ah, you tried one’ said his dad. ‘Like em?’ ‘Err yeah’ said Tom. ‘A bit thicker’ ‘Yeah, I thought well, if you do wet yourself, these will last you a bit longer’. Replied his dad. Tom didn’t know how to reply to that. His instinct was to say ‘I don’t wet myself’ like before, but in truth he was thinking about giving it a go, given how difficult it was to use the loo. ‘I can’t go for a walk in this’ said Tom, pointing to his nappy. ‘Why?’ asked his dad. ‘Err, why do you think?’ Replied Tom. ‘No, genuinely Tom I don’t know why’ his dad replied. ‘Tell me’ ‘People will notice!!’ said Tom. ‘Who’s going to notice?’ said his dad incredulously. ‘You can’t tell it’s there under clothes’ he said confused. ‘It’s a private thing, no one knows what underwear you’ve got on, get over yourself’. Tom finished buttoning up his jeans. They were actually a little tight with his Tena Ultima nappy underneath. ‘I’m going to take it off’ he said as he started unbuttoning again. ‘Right’ said his dad authoritatively. ‘I’m supportive, but to a point. I won’t have piss all over the bathroom and I’m not having you waste nappies by putting them on, then just taking them off again moments later. They’re expensive. Do up your bloody trousers and stop being silly’ Tom didn’t really know what to say. He stopped unbuttoning. ‘Does it really not show?’ ‘No son, it doesn’t’. Now come on it’s a nice day, let’s get some fresh air. … As Tom walked along the bulk of the nappy was present with every step. Both he and his dad were fast walkers, but in his nappy and tight jeans he was struggling to keep up a little. It was a beautiful day. They went to the park, had an ice cream and on the way back walked past the local pub. ‘Fancy a cheeky pint?’ Asked his dad. They often went into the pup together. ‘Yeah, why not’ said Tom. They both had a couple of pints before it was time to leave. They didn’t talk about Toms nappy at all, mostly about the Traitors on TV. ‘Ok, I’m going to pop to the loo and then we’ll head off’ said his Dad. ‘Ah yeah, me too’ said Tom. His dad stopped and looked at him. ‘You do make me laugh, why are you doing it to yourself? You can’t wee all over the floor in a public bathroom, it’s rude and disrespectful’. Tom looked at him, kinda accepting that he had a point. Whilst it felt so crazy to wet himself, as his dad became more accepting and as Tom was waddling around in the nappy anyway, it felt increasingly silly to not use it for what it was designed for. ‘The thing is son’ said his dad. ‘They deteriorate after 4-6 hours anyway, so you gotta change it whether you use it or not, you may as well use it. Tom stood and waited whilst his dad went to the loo. He was breaking his neck, but he couldn’t go. Something in his brain was telling him no. He couldn’t just wet himself right there in the middle of the pub! As they walked back, Tom was getting increasingly desperate and his dad noticed. Tom was walking quicker and quicker and couldn’t stop grabbing his crotch. His bladder felt like it was going to burst. ‘Stop walking a minute’ said his dad, stopping himself. Tom stopped, the urge unbearable. ‘If you don’t let it go you’ll hurt your kidneys. That’s what I did, it was agony for days. That’s why I’m trying to help you. Just go, you don’t have to be embarrassed in front of me’ With that Tom’s bladder burst, right there in the street. Wee poured uncontrollably into his nappy. He stared desperately at his jeans in the full expectation that wee would be pouring down them, but it was not. What he could feel though was his nappy expanding and getting larger and tighter in his jeans. After what felt like forever, he stopped. ‘Come on then’ said his said. As Tom walked on the nappy felt completely different to before. It was much much bulkier, oddly to him though it didn’t feel at all wet. It had clearly absorbed all the wee and left him dry, which was pretty amazing actually, who’d have thought they’d work so well? It felt so strange yet at the same time so comforting to have had an accident and been protected by his nappy. It also made him feel small, having just stood there in front of his dad and wet himself. As they walked along his dad turned to him and chuckled. ‘So I guess that answers my question. You do wet yourself.’ Chapter 6 - Something awkward Over the next few days Tom had worn a nappy on and off, even when wearing all but a couple of very carefully managed wees has been in the toilet, with great difficulty. He was really conflicted about whether to wear one or not. Even though his dad was fine with it, almost encouraging it, he was still embarrassed to talk about it, and felt a little silly with it on. Things had been reasonably normal. His dad had enquired occasionally as to the state of his nappy, but it wasn’t often. Just things like. “If you’re wet son, don’t forget to change regularly”. His dad had also bought him some powders and creams and impressed upon him the importance of good skin care and hygiene. “Wearing nappies isn’t dirty or gross son, but you do need to up your game on hygiene and skin care” he’d said. … As they sat and watched tv that evening, Tom decided he’d do a wee in his nappy. He stood and after a few odd movements he started to wet himself. ‘Good lad, I notice you’re getting better at that’ said his dad. Tom stood a while longer until he’d finished, then sat back down in his now wet nappy and finally said something that was increasingly bothering him. ‘Dad’ he said. ‘Can I ask you something really awkward?’ His dad switched off the tv and looked at him with suspicion. ‘Okaaay’ he said slowly, Tom took a deep breath. ‘Do you like me in nappies?’ He eventually asked. ‘What do you mean?’ asked his dad. ‘Well, like just then, and other times, you seem to be encouraging it. Like you want me to be in nappies and wet myself and stuff’ asked Tom. His dad moved his gaze away for a moment thinking about what he was going to say. Eventually he returned to Tom. ‘It’s not about me, it’s about you son. I just want you to have what I never had, an understanding parent during this part of your life. It’s obviously in our genes to like this. I’ve passed it on to you. I want it to be as easy and enjoyable as possible for you to go through. Not like my experience. I’d have loved my dad to have accepted my nappy wearing, but I never got it, and I never got to find out what he would have done or said.’ ‘I see’ said Tom. ‘Granddad never knew?’ What would you have wanted granddad to do or say?’ Asked Tom. ‘I’d have liked him to say it’s fine, I’d have liked acceptance, I’d have liked….to have…well it doesn’t matter’. ‘No do say’ said Tom. ‘Heck, we’re beyond holding back aren’t we?’ Tom’s Dad paused for a considerable time. ‘I’d have liked him to change me. BUT that doesn’t mean I’m asking to change you!’ He blurted out Tom sat there, looking at his Dad. ‘Do you want to change me then?’ He asked gingerly. ‘No, No!’ said his dad definitely. ‘That’s not what I meant, I wish I’d not said that’ ‘You don’t want to, or you feel like you don’t want to ask?’ ask Tom. His dad looked increasingly uncomfortable. ‘I can’t do this’ he said starting to stand. Tom grabbed his arm like he had his a couple of days before’. His dad sat back down. ‘What do you want from this?’ Asked Tom. ‘Why are you so supportive? Why are you buying them for me?’ Asked Tom ‘Son please’ said his dad desperately trying to end the conversation. ‘No, come on dad, we gotta have this discussion’ insisted Tom. His dad started to claw at the said of the chair. ‘Because I remember how much I wanted to go back into nappies, and if I’m honest a part of me still does want to occasionally. I remember bottling it up for years, the anxiety of trying it, hiding it, feeling wrong and weird. When I discovered you’d inherited this from me I decided I didn’t want you to go through what I did. I wanted you to be yourself, be happy, fulfil your desires, be content in yourself’. Tom didn’t know what to say. His dad went on. ‘And if I’m completely honest, I want to share in your joy of it, in a way I never got to. Sorry I know that’s selfish, I don’t want to put you under any pressure, this mustn’t be about me’. ‘I really do appreciate that dad, thanks so much’ said Tom as he came over for a hug. ‘Have I got it right?’ His dad asked ‘What do you mean?’ Asked Tom ‘Do they make you feel how I think they do?’ ‘They do make me feel happy and relaxed’ said Tom. ‘A kind of contentment I’ve not felt in a long time’. ‘Then tell me son, tell me why you shouldn’t wear them as much as you want?’ After a long pause ‘When I say I’m not asking to change you, please don’t think it’s because I wouldn’t. If you asked I’d be right there for you, but I’d never put you under any pressure to, you know that don’t you?’ ‘Yeah I know that dad’ said Tom. ‘I’m not sure that’s something I could handle, at least not now’.

Maddie is 17 years old and always finds a way to get into trouble. I'll play the parents.

Mary is a teenager who secretly loves the feel of diapers when she tells her parents they kick her out of the house and tell her not to come back. When she goes to school the next day her teacher finds out that she has been kicked out of the house.

Jessica was two years old when she we kidnaped her parents have never stoped looking for her. One day her father Paul is walking though the park and see a girl that could be his daughter.

Disclosure I’m not sure why but SpongeBob has become a strange guilty pleasure, which for a guy my age shouldn’t be admitted to. However, despite him turning up in a couple of my stories, I want to say that I am not in league with the franchise, nor do I get a cut from the merchandise. I will admit to being enthralled by the TV show and love the crazy little guy’s exploits... and yes I am wearing SpongeBob undies as I write this story. SpongeBob SquareNappy It was a glorious day. It was just me and dad and the plan had been to drive to our starting point then take the fourteen mile hike along the river bank, up into the hills before the route circled round and returned us to the car park. At the moment, I’m standing at the top of a high rocky outcrop, staring out over the vast countryside laid out below and feeling on top of the world. The view is stunning and I’m feeling brilliant. I’m wearing my SpongeBob t-shirt, SpongeBob shorts under which are the SpongeBob plastic pants gripping tightly to my thick yellow disposable. I have a stout pair of boots and thick socks so I’m well prepared for our ramble. I have a small backpack that has warmer clothes, water and a packed meal of sandwiches, crisps and some of mum’s wonderful chocolate cake (and no I don’t have a Krabby Patty). Attached to the zip is a SpongeBob keyring with the square little chap grinning madly at everyone who passes. Dad is standing next to me and points out some of the distant landmarks, whilst other trekkers take in the view and smile benignly at my colourful yellow ensemble. I can honestly say my attire is unique amongst the hordes of other hikers so is getting quite a few contemptuous shrugs from the more serious walkers. Just like an enthusiastic young scout leader dad looks wonderful in his khaki hiking outfit of shirt, shorts, boots and backpack. In fact, he got his love for rambling, camping and the countryside from his days as a Boy Scout. His fervour for fresh air and an outdoor lifestyle has been catching and I really love being out and about sharing his passion. Dad hugs me close, pats my padded bottom and whispers if I’m okay. I’ve never felt better but I know he’s really asking if I’m wet... I am but pretend I’m not. He tousled my hair and we set off on the next leg or our journey. # My parents have been very supportive of me over the last few weeks. Just after my thirteenth birthday, and for no apparent reason that I could pinpoint, I started waking up wet. Mum took to the internet and looked up my symptoms and possible cures and, backed by a doctor’s report that said there was nothing he could do, followed the simple advice the net offered. · No food an hour before bed. · Avoid fizzy and caffeinated drinks. · Remove any distractions from the sleeping area (computer, television, gaming consoles etc) · Install reduced lighting (soft coloured filter bulbs, lower wattage etc) · Get subject into protection as soon as possible. The subject needs to know that they’ve done nothing wrong but that it’s vital that property is safeguarded from their current predicament. · A period of no stimulation before bed and regular bed times. · Be firm but fair. · Be organised and once set on a course – stick with it. # Mum and dad had no problem following these simple rules and I found that my mattress was covered in a water-proof sheet and my night times started off with being well-nappied at 7pm sharp. Of course I rebelled as much as possible, mentioning that my younger sister Gabby would laugh and I’d be ridiculed at school. Dad pointed out that he couldn’t see why as I was only wearing the stuff at home and at night so no one but family would be aware. He explained to my sister I was having problems and she should be supportive so didn’t want to hear any hurtful remarks from her. Privately dad sat me down in my bedroom and explained that this was what was going to happen and if fussed and gave either him or mum any backchat or trouble, I would be wearing them for school. Firm but fair... I suppose that’s how he saw it but that didn’t stop the resentment I felt about the injustice of it all. However, my protest was quite muted because after all, I was waking up wet. My bottom lip trembled at the thought of having to wear them for school so decided to just keep any feelings well bottled up. Before I got to wear protection mum and dad came in to my bedroom whilst I was sat at the computer. I was playing a new game that someone had come up with featuring SpongeBob SquarePants. I’d been a ‘fan’ of his TV show from when I was younger and was just a character that had stayed with me since those days. Now I know at thirteen this cartoon oddity should hold no interest for me but, and this was quite by accident, I was also wearing my SpongeBob boxers I’d had for ages and my school bag sitting on the chair in the corner had an ‘ironic’ SpongeBob keyring attached to the zipper. (Lots of the guys had equally daft stuff written or dangling from their bags, it made for easy identification should they get misplaced in the confusion of class). I learned later that mum had taken all this in as they presented a united front about the new rules. “Okay son, turn that off (item 3 on the –what to do agenda). From now on you can only use it when either mum or I are around and never after 7pm.” Dad was standing over me making sure I did as I was told and the protest that started with an “Aww, can’t I just finish thi...?” disappeared when I saw the look he gave me. “We are going to trust you to keep to this rule so the computer can stay here but should we think you’ve disobeyed us, we’ll take it away completely. Do you understand?” I nodded but felt really depressed. I love playing games and talking on Facebook and elsewhere to my friends late at night and seven o’clock did seem incredibly early as I normally didn’t go to bed until ten-ish. Since I got my own laptop a few months ago it had changed my life. I loved everything about it; the access to info, the ease of chatting to friends but most of all the games. I can get quite involved and some of them are quite dark and spooky. Even though they can be a bit disturbing I like them the best and often play them well into the early hours... but don’t tell mum or dad. However, because of dad’s threat to put me in nappies for school if I protested too much I went along with their suggestions convinced that after a day or two they’d forget all about it and everything would hopefully return to normality. However, what I hadn’t bargained for was the first night of my ‘protection’ regime. Both parents were there to, provide a united front, and after dad told me to go and get a shower mum assembled the relative items ready for my return. I’d been wetting in my sleep consistently now for nearly a couple of weeks and though the plastic protection for the mattress had arrived after two days, I’d been waking up to wet sheets and soaked pjs. The chat with the doctor had made mum go to the easiest line of defence – making me wear security padding whilst in bed. As I said, I wasn’t happy about this and whilst I saw the logic to this remedy (as no doubt anyone who’s ever been faced with this dilemma has had to acknowledge), I didn’t particularly want any part of it. So, when they arrived in my bedroom armed with powder, disposables and plastic pants I was none too pleased. Having an attitude at my age is all well and good, but dad is not one to put up with me acting like a stupid, inconsiderate spoilt brat, he pointed that out fairly early on when I started arguing for arguments sake and not because I had anything to argue about. He’s a loving dad but don’t cross him. He’ll put up with just a certain amount of what he sees as legitimate defiance, after that it’s his judgement that matters. I protested as much as I thought I dare but I didn’t want my teenage bottom being spanked as if I was a naughty little kid, which dad threatened if I continued to complain. The thing is, although dad threatens quite a lot, he rarely carries it through. As a family we all get on and he’s never disciplined me for anything... well other than a telling off if I’ve done something stupid. However, because this bed wetting was new, and I was embarrassed by it, I wasn’t too sure just how understanding he would be and decided not to test those limits. Two sets of embarrassment on the same day would have been too much to contemplate. I tried to argue about the early time (it was only just after seven) but mum said there were going to be a few changes and I’d better get used to them. She didn’t want to leave everything to the last moment and argued that seven could quite easily be made my permanent bedtime if I preferred. Apparently, I was now going to be ready for bed the same time as my seven year old sister and as her bedtime was eight o’clock; that was now also going to be mine. At this I really blew my top but dad said they weren’t punishing me but I wasn’t getting enough proper sleep and, according to school, my attention span was deteriorating. However, if I did want to be punished all I had to do was continue arguing. By then mum had noisily shaken out a disposable on my bed and indicated for me to lie down so she could put it on for me. The very idea of being put back into a nappy was filling me with anger – what would people think if they found out? I just didn’t want it to happen, I knew I should be shouting, screaming abuse and generally not putting up with it and to a certain extent I did. But it was from the thought of being embarrassed rather than I didn’t think it a way to prevent stop wetting the entire bed. I suppose, at thirteen, I thought I was over ever having to worry about such things, but there again, at my age I shouldn’t be peeing the bed either: The loud crinkle and babyish smell as, what appeared to be a small package was spread out to become quite a large padded area, was quite surprising. Meanwhile, the sudden appearance of bottles and cartons that accompanied it plus the clear vinyl pants that lay alongside, were all adding to my distress. “Do you have to do it... can’t I do it myself?” I begged reluctantly as I could see there wasn’t a way out of not wearing one. Mum made the point that I’d never changed a nappy in my life so to begin with either she or dad would be there to supervise and make sure there was no chance of leakage. With dad looking sternly on I let mum get on with what she had to do. To say I was very self-conscious would be an understatement but she was gentle and told me what she was doing and why all the way through the procedure. I didn’t want to hear about wet-wipes, nappy rash cream, bolster pads and baby powder, but she droned on about why I needed them all. Apparently, she was quoting bits from an online parenting forum on teenagers who suddenly start peeing the bed. According to the forum of parents – a teenage son or daughter should be included in the process for their own welfare. It was to keep them inclusive, something they were involved in rather than something being done to them. I would have preferred not to hear about any of it thank you. I was actually relieved when she eventually pulled the thing between my legs and taped it into place, as my cock was beginning to react to all the touching and rubbing, which was taking a great deal of willpower to keep under control. Anyway, once it was done and she’d shimmied the final humiliating aspect to all this, the plastic pants, into place she pulled me to my feet and asked how it felt. “Awkward.” I said irritably. “This is stupid I look like a two year old, please can we try something different?” The stern face of dad was replaced by a much gentler look as he nodded approval. Now it was done and I wasn’t screaming blue murder or throwing a tantrum they seemed to relax a little. However, deep down I was seething. Meanwhile, I just stood there feeling (and no doubt looking) a complete and utter tit. “Don’t worry son, you’ll get used to it and at least you won’t wake up swimming in a sea of pee.” He seemed to think that this ‘fact’ was enough reason for such treatment and that I should be glad. I wasn’t but their earlier threats hung over me so I was reluctant to moan much more. “You’ll feel a lot better sweetheart.” Mum added though I’m not sure how she’d know that. I shrugged as both mum and dad checked out my now padded crotch and bum. Once they were satisfied mum found my pyjamas but the bottoms were too tight as I tried to pull them on. “Oh, we’ll have to do something about that,” she said looking a bit perturbed. Dad said it didn’t matter I could sleep wearing just the protection but I was on the verge of angry tears so relented and asked if a pair of shorts would fit. As it was, dad had a large pair of satin boxers, with Superman characters all over, which he’d received as a present last Christmas. He disappeared for a little while before returning waving them triumphantly in front of my eyes. I knew he was trying to take the fear, shame and self-consciousness from the situation by making it a jokey experience but I was still not overly happy. Notwithstanding my mood, surprisingly they fit reasonably well over the bulk now resting around my waist. I looked in the mirror but because I knew what was underneath it all looked huge and childish. Thankfully at least you couldn’t see anything. I think dad was pleased that he’d got rid of a pair of boxer he’d never liked or intended to wear. We went down stairs to watch a bit of TV. I thought the constant rustling sound I made with each step was very loud but neither of my parents made a comment. Gabby was still dressed and enjoying something colourful on the Children’s Channel and there I was, in a nappy and ready for bed. I was about to complain about the injustice of this when mum called her to get ready for bed herself. She didn’t want to go as the programme wasn’t finished but I think mum caught my brooding anger and thought it would be best to act. However, dad got in first and said, “Right after your programme young lady... and no argument okay?” “Yes daddy... thank you.” She looked over at me as I noisily took a seat on the sofa but just turned back to the screen and continued to watch her show. I was still seething a bit but her show finished after five minutes and mum followed her upstairs. I switched channel but there was nothing on I particularly wanted to watch. Normally I’d be sat at my computer now and until late playing games or chatting but that was no longer an option. However, I didn’t realise just how uninteresting stuff on TV was around this time - soaps and detective series so, a big ‘YUK’ from me. However, mum liked these shows so that’s what was on. I sat on the sofa getting used to the padding that now filled the front of my boxers. Although the actual item was soft it did feel strange having something so chunky between my legs and I was shuffling around trying to get comfy. It was quite disconcerting the way the bulge at the front pushed out the satin boxers; I thought it looked like I was afflicted with some disease of the knob. Every now and then everything seemed fine and I’d forget about it but moments later, for some reason, it was bugging me so the shuffling started again. It wasn’t so bad when I was on my own but as soon as others came into the lounge to watch TV (after fifteen minutes my sister wearing her cartoon pjs came to join me on the sofa), I was more concerned about the noisy rustling sound that came with each action. Gabby pulled up the leg of my boxer shorts and looked at the protection, I was about to scream at her but dad told her to behave. “I just wanted to see...” she said upset that she’d been told off for being interested. Dad looked at mum and she looked at dad and they both seemed to come to some rational agreement. “Yes, sorry Gabrielle, your brother needs protection for the moment and you’ll see him wearing it at night.” Mum looked across at me. “Why don’t you show your sister what you’re wearing and then it won’t be such a curiosity to her?” “Muuummmm.” I had to bite my tongue from hurling abuse at her. “Well, it’s up to you but the sooner she has her inquisitiveness satisfied, the sooner it won’t be anything for her to think about.” “But it’s so embarrassing.” “Well it shouldn’t be... that’s just what you need to wear right now... show your sister exactly what that consists of and I’m sure her interest will vanish.” Dad confirmed he thought it was a good idea so reluctantly I stood up and eased my, sorry, his boxers down, showing off the slinky clear plastic pants which barely hid the substantial nappy underneath. I wasn’t happy about any of this and closed my eyes in shame as my little sister ran her hand over the glossy package and said she thought it looked and felt “very nice”. “There you go,” mum seemed pleased that her plan had such a positive result. However, I was mortified that Gabby was stroking the padded plastic like it was one of her stuffed toys. I stood there wondering how long I should let this go on for but both mum and dad looked on sympathetically as she continued to pat, caress and fondle its entirety. After what seemed like ages but could really only have been a few seconds I slowly pulled up my shorts and sat down. This time the padding felt like it was welcoming my bum and surrounding it in downy comfort. The huge round bulge at the front of the boxers was due to the nappy and a build-up of air and not my dick, which, under my sister’s childish ministrations, had thankfully gone and trapped itself within the folds of the fabric. At eight o’clock dad said it was time for bed. I assumed he just meant Gabby but as she set off for the stairs he looked back at me and said “You as well Josh.” I was going to argue that I shouldn’t have to go to bed at the same time as my little sister but I’d grown bored with what was on TV and was quite relieved to take me and my padding out of everyone’s sight. I heard dad whispering his good nights to Gabby in her bedroom and her kissing him “night-night” a few seconds later he came into my bedroom and sat down on the bed next to me. “Okay slugger... thanks for not arguing and letting your sister examine your nap... er, protection. However, just to remind you; no computer or electronic games but you can read for half an hour if you can’t get to sleep immediately. We’ll be up later to check on you.” I knew this wasn’t a particularly subtle warning but just wanted the day to end so sleep seemed a good idea. So, I wriggled and crinkled against the plastic sheet trying to get comfortable; the broad padding not helping in any way. “You’ll get used to it.” Dad proclaimed, “Or you can stop wetting the bed... whichever happens first.” He smiled and kissed my forehead and wished me goodnight. I was not at my happiest so I begrudgingly offered a fake yawned “night” and turned over. I also knew he wasn’t being nasty but his words stung a little and a petulant thought ran through my mind that somehow, by me wetting every night, it would somehow hurt mum and dad. I wasn’t sure how that would work but it gave me something to simmer on whilst trying to get comfy. It was way too early for me to even think about sleep. I desperately wanted to switch on the computer but knew they would be on the lookout for any transgression and they’d be checking in on me all the time. That threat of wearing this outfit for school was definitely a way to suppress any defiance I might offer. I tried to settle down but the slippery bulk didn’t help and I felt hot and uncomfortable. I tossed and turned trying to find a position I could sleep in but after just a few seconds I’d have to rearrange myself at a different angle and hope that would work. Surprisingly I did drop off but my sleep was fitful and I kept waking up, what seemed like every fifteen minutes and then taking another quarter of an hour to drop off again. My sleep had been terrible but I was fast asleep when mum came in to wake me up for school. She pulled back the sheets and before I had chance to react, slipped a finger up the leg of my protection. “Sorry love,” she said, “you’re soaked but the bed is lovely and dry... well done.” I slowly came round and the loose boxers were wrapped around my knees, whilst the silky bulge had increased enormously with its wet load. The plastic pants had done a sterling job (according to mum) keeping everything in place. I complained I’d had the worst night sleep ever but she just seemed so happy the bed was dry. I got up and waddled to the bathroom. “There’s a blue plastic bucket in there... just throw your wet nappy in there for now and I’ll sort it later but rinse the plastic pants through whilst you’re in there.” There was a slight pause. “Don’t forget to shower well... we don’t want you going to class smelling of pee”. I was still smarting from the fact that she’d said my wet “nappy” and now she was insinuating I smelled of piss. However, just to be sure, I did take longer than usual under the shower and using loads of gel hoped to rid myself of any kind of smell at all. Once dried and deodorised I happily put on a clean pair of boxers, a slightly tighter fit than those I’d worn over the nap... protection and put on my school uniform. As I entered the kitchen for breakfast I noticed that Gabby was finishing her conversation with mum who smiled and said she’d “...see to it”, Gabby’s face lit up with happiness. Although I’d been wetting at night for a few days now, I hadn’t even thought about “smelling of pee” as mum so succinctly put it and I became self-conscious at the very idea. In class all I could think about was ‘Do I smell of piss to everyone?’ and, if I did, would they equate that with me having to wear a nap.... protection? That made me very anxious. I did get one or two comments about the way I smelled and that put me on my guard. However, they were really complaining about the amount of deodorant I’d sprayed over myself, which apparently was quite overpowering. After the third comment I took the hint to relax a little on Lynx for Men spray. None of my friends or teachers said anything so I assumed I was okay but I still had a niggling doubt at the back of my mind so held on to my bladder’s contents for dear life, scared to even go to the boy’s lav in case I accidentally wet myself. I suppose I knew there was absolutely no logic to the way I felt but, that’s what a thirteen year-old’s paranoia does for you. My nights were protected but school days I was desperately trying not to go to the toilet at all in case of a urinary mishap. The fact that I wet myself at night without knowing made me fearful that I might do the same in class but despite that... I was simply terrified of going to the loo. It was as if by going others would automatically know I wet the bed. See - no logic at all. At school I’d gone almost a week without incident accept on the Thursday and final lesson Geography. I was desperate to relieve myself but determined to last until, I got home. Unfortunately, things conspired against that idea because accidents happen. I banged into a door someone else was opening from the other side, the corner smacked in to my groin whilst the handle bashed into my abdomen, what control I had evaporated. I managed to pull my head away from the hard advancing hard wooden surface, but in doing so thrust out my hip. The edge of the speedily opening door caught me off-guard delivering a fearfully painful whack in a boy’s most sensitive area. The result, an absolute geyser, which oddly enough we’d just been learning about, filled the front of my grey school trousers, soaking everything from my crotch on down. The pain was immense and I fell to my knees, whilst a puddle formed around me and an entire class looked on in surprise. Some were horror-struck, whilst others laughed out loudly at my cool image being brought to a soggy end. As I was doubled up in pain my flood hardly registered, there were plenty of other excruciating sensations attacking my brain at that moment. The problem was, once I started I couldn’t finish until I was empty, and that was a lot of piss. The teacher, who I presume didn’t think it was as serious as it was just stood there looking on and said with little concern. “When you’re done Laxley... go get a mop from the caretaker’s storeroom.” Eventually, and after a good couple of minutes of me still lying there convulsed in a puddle, Mr Tweedy realised that there was a problem and helped me to the school nurse. It took some time for me to slowly and painfully be dragged to her office. # Mum was called and after a brief explanation as to what had happened it was agreed I should be checked out at the hospital. We were lucky in that the daily National Health queues had died down and I got to see a doctor within an hour. They didn’t think I’d done any great damage but suspected I’d have a nasty bruise for a few days. Mum mentioned my night time problem by way of explaining my soaked trousers, which the doctor made a note of. He suggested that if possible, and seeing as I was already using at night, I should continue to wear protection for the next few days. He looked at my heavily piss-stained trousers and, shrugging slightly, said the injury may cause me to urinate without being aware and in his opinion, “...it’s better to be safe than sorry”. I hobbled out of there feeling none too happy but it was still painful and I was glad to get in the car and be driven home by my sympathetic mother. She’d been concerned and attentive from the moment she picked me up. I wasn’t able to tell her much as I was holding my groin and trying to hide my wet pants as best I could. My bruised ego would take a while to fix but I worried that a bashed up bladder might never get better. “Don’t worry sweetheart,” she said looking almost as pained as I was, “I’ll get you home and in bed so you can try and relax... a couple of paracetamol should help.” Once home mum took me straight up to my bedroom, helped me out of all the wet clothes, once I was naked she examined the injured area herself and then wiped me clean. Adding some gooey ointment for strains, which was nice and warming, plus a deluge of powder, the disposable she held wasn’t something I’d planned on. I voiced my concerns over this but I was genuinely in pain and wasn’t in a fit state to argue too much. Mum just responded with the simple fact she wasn’t going to let me piss the bed when there was an easy solution. No matter what I said in protest she was having none of it and in the end, the struggle to wear a nappy was won by the fact I had spent all my energy on trying not to scream and cry. Eventually she wrapped me its thickness, taped me tightly in and slipped up a pair of white vinyl pants. The entire process was painful for me to even move but I understood, for safeties-sake, it had to be done. Once padded and I’d slipped under the covers she went off to get something to drink to go with the pills. I could feel my groin throbbing and not in a good way as my hand slid over the soft, silky vinyl. Mum returned with a glass of water and a couple of pills and as soon as I’d downed the lot suggested I just lie quietly and try to sleep; sleep, she said, was the best cure for all ailments. She was very attentive and a picture of sympathy and caring. “You poor love” she said as she stroked my brow and encouraged sleep. There was still a pain down there but it had eased slightly. I thought I’d never doze with that particular ache in that particular place and the bulky padding but surprisingly, I dropped off almost immediately. Mum came to wake me a couple of hours later for tea and we were both astonished that my nappy was absolutely soaked. Despite my original dispute about it we were equally grateful that she’d taken the doctor’s advice as the bed remained dry even if I was drenched. Not only was I quite embarrassed but the warmness of the piss meant I’d only just done it and although the pain had let up a little, this only added to my shame. Mum told me that she’d change me after we’d eaten and to come down as she’d cooked something special for us all. I tried saying I wasn’t hungry but the smell of spare ribs and chips made sure I did as I was told. “Just sling on that pair of boxers, no one will notice,” was mum’s suggestion. Something else had changed in my bedroom since I’d napped so heavily. My computer, which I’d received for my thirteenth birthday had been removed. In its place on the desk were a couple of colourful plastic bags which I thought looked interesting but I wasn’t going to say so. I was more worried about my access to the internet. “Where’s my laptop?” I was so distracted I forgot about the boxers. “We’ve taken it away... its set up downstairs in the living room.” Mum said matter-of-factly. I didn’t really need to ask why because for the past couple of nights I’d sneaked access after 7pm, which was forbidden. They said that they trusted me not use it but if I broke that trust, I would lose it. I broke that trust so had no one to blame but myself but I still thought I should try and justify myself. “It was a present for me... it’s mine.” I snivelled. “No one should touch it but me.” “Well it is now in the living room and available to the entire family.” “But you and dad have your own laptop, what do you want with mine?” I was misting up at the injustice of it all. “Well now Gabby gets a chance to learn on it... oh... and hours of use are strictly limited.” “But that’s unfair... I couldn’t sleep so I just, you know, looked on it for a bit...” “Don’t lie. You’ve lost our trust so don’t add to that by lying” That sympathy she’d shown just a couple of hours earlier was gone. Now she looked quite angrily at me as I stood there wearing a full nappy and shiny plastic pants. “You were on it for almost three hours... no wonder you aren’t sleeping well.” She could tell I was just about to go into full strop mode but she just warned me against any such action unless I wanted her to tell dad “...and you know what that’ll mean.” The threat of a spanking never seemed more real so I swallowed the anger that was building and returned to my room. Mum followed. “Look,” she pointed to the bags on my desk, “they are a replacement present, which I hope you’ll like. I’ve gone to a lot of trouble to find these things for you so...” I was just about to take a look. “You can check them out after we’ve all eaten... now come down and when I change you we can see what it is then.” My warm wet nappy had cooled considerably but I followed mum down to the kitchen... I love spare ribs... so I wasn’t going to miss them if I could help it. I sat down in my squelchy disposable but thankfully the plastic pants kept everything contained, although there was still a strange sort of ache in my groin. It wasn’t painful, well not as painful as earlier, but was definitely uncomfortable... sort of like I’d pulled or strained something I shouldn’t have. Mum had brought dad up to speed about my accident so he was very concerned asking how I felt. I told him about the way some of the class thought it the funniest thing they’d ever seen, and that Mr Tweedy was less than sympathetic to begin with. “He probably realised there might be claim if he didn’t get his act together?” “I suppose so... but he did all but carry me to the nurse.” “Okay, well that’s good but... we might have to think about suing the school if...” He didn’t finish his train of thought because he noticed the expanded nappy so knew I’d wet whilst I dozed. However, changing the subject mum told him that I’d accepted the removal of the computer so there was no need for him to take any further ‘steps’. Dad glowered at me and I felt like a stupid irresponsible little kid sat there in a wet nappy. Having said that, dad seemed relieved that he didn’t have to give any additional discipline and that I’d been quite grown-up about accepting that flouting their trust had penalties. I noticed that Gabby was sat at the table holding her favourite doll Becky who was only wearing a nappy. Normally she has her dollies in a myriad of colourful outfits and then it struck home; Becky was copying me. I wasn’t sure if she was mocking or what but Gabby explained when she saw me making a grimace in her direction. “Becky is my oldest, cleverest and most favourite doll,” she clarified to everyone at the table, “she’s like my big brother... and he wears a nappy so now... so does she.” I was furious but dad and mum both smiled and congratulated Gabby on being so understanding about my problem. Their eyes told me to take what Gabby had done as a compliment and let the subject go. I mumbled unhappily to myself but I just smiled at my sister and tousled her hair then, to stop me from speaking took a huge bite out of my small rack of ribs; even wearing a soggy nappy couldn’t detract from the fact that they were delicious. ** tbc **

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