Search the Community

Wattpad 1 Riley lived a monotonous life. Like any other eleven-year-old girl, she would wake up early in the morning, eat breakfast with a bowl of milk and cereal, brush her teeth and become an athlete to catch the bus that would take her to school, spend five hours listening to her teachers' endless speeches, and write down everything important on her notepad. Friends she had none. Not that she minded the company of others, let's be clear; she preferred to stay in the background and be on her own. In group work she would participate enthusiastically and do her part; when it was over she would go back to being the shy, reserved little girl she was. From time to time she imagined what her life would have been like if she had had friends. Probably, it would have been less boring and static and more eventful. Once, she posed the question to her parents, whose answers did not enlighten her much. Her father Greg told her that having friends fills the days with great excitement, while her mother Helen told her that time passes more quickly and cheerfully if one is in the company of a friend. She was still pondering this on her way home from school. She passed Vito's restaurant, then Mary-Ann's china store, then stopped at the supermarket entrance. She looked at it undecided about her next move. It was quite a long way, at least a 30-minute walk. She had finished her water bottle in the story hour; she would be thirsty even before she entered the residential area. She tapped the left pocket of her jacket, she had her wallet with her, therefore money as well. She was sure of it, she had not used it before this moment. Thus, she passed through the entrance and headed for the bottle counter. She took a fresh water bottle and set off in search of the crates, which in a single moment turned into a full-fledged treasure hunt. She found herself in the meat department, continued to the right, all the way to the back, and arrived at the area dedicated to bread. Puffing, she went back four wards and turned left. She was surprised to see the shelf of baby products on one side and the toy shelf on the other. Motionless as a statue, she admired the baby products side, especially the diapers and wet wipes in their colorful and flashy packaging. She came out of her trance-like moment by shaking her head. She reached over and grabbed a package of Pampers Baby-Dry. Fluffy, she thought. I wonder how they will fit me? Suddenly, Riley was struck with a sense of disgust and placed it back on the shelf. Why had she thought that? Why had she stopped there and held a package of baby diapers in her hands? What was happening to her? She took steps back. Her gaze shifted to a young woman with brown hair and delicate face. She, too, was looking at that section with interest. She stopped at the exact spot where Riley had been perched and picked up the diaper package and placed it in her cart. In that instant, their eyes met. Caught in the act, Riley looked away; her mother had taught her that looking at strangers was rude. She blushed. In complete silence, the lady smiled at her and continued on her way. The little girl took one last look at the shelves filled with diapers and other baby products. She would have liked to buy them and use them. However, there was one detail that hammered in her head: she was an eleven-year-old girl and able to listen to her body, not a baby. She went back to find the speakers, putting this strange episode behind her and hoping it would not happen again. I am a big girl, she told herself. And big girls don't wear diapers. * The next day, Riley was there again looking at those shelves full of light blue packages of Pampers Baby-dry diapers stacked one on top of the other and one behind the other forming an impregnable wall. The real reason she was there was still a mystery, but she didn't care at that moment. She was itching to buy a pack of diapers and a package of wet wipes. She reassured herself by saying, "I'll take them now. I'm going to get them now. I'll take them now." As soon as he took the first step, he would immediately retract it. Then, the air grew tenser and tenser, and Riley tried harder and harder not to panic. She did this seven times in a row. "You still here too?" asked a soft voice. The little girl turned her head to her left; it was the woman she had seen twenty-four hours earlier, dressed in a slightly wrinkled dark blue overcoat and brand-new light blue pants. Her first thought was: What a strange coincidence. "Uh-huh," Riley replied, nodding. His heart began to beat faster. "I'm glad to know I'm not the only person in this lane," replied the adult in a friendly, cordial tone. "I forgot to take the wipes yesterday." The woman fetched them and then returned to Riley. "You seem nervous, are you all right little girl?" Riley nodded hastily, as well as giving an unbelievable smile. The woman looked behind her, then turned her focus back to the little girl with a questioning face. "Why are you here?" she asked as she lowered herself to her height, eyes as clear green as an expanse of grass on a sunny day. Quickly, she added, "If you don't mind me asking." Riley remained silent. Why was this woman asking her that question? Was she a woman who had ulterior motives? Where were the adults at that moment? She began to breathe nervously. The woman realized she was being impetuous toward her, so she repeated the question in a lighter, less inquisitive voice, "What brought you here, honey?" "I... I-I don't know," Riley stammered, taking a few steps back. "Maybe..." "You're interested in these things," replied the woman thoughtfully. "It's nothing wrong, you know." Her eyes lit up. The woman continued. "It's a curiosity that a lot of kids have, so there's nothing wrong with... going back to being a little baby and using baby things. " "Really?" "Yes," she replied, smiling, "you're not crazy, you're a normal kid. You're unique." Riley's eyes became glazed over and she rubbed them with the sleeve of her jacket. "I want to make you a proposition, so you are free to refuse," the woman began. "I'll buy you everything you need and drive you home. What do you say?" Without thinking, the little girl shook her head. Such a proposal could not be refused. And Riley already had a counter-proposal in mind to make to the mystery woman. She took courage and proposed to her, "I have the money and I want to take it... but the only thing I need... is... to know how it fits." The woman smiled. "Would you like me to put it on before we part?" Riley blushed embarrassed and looked away from her. No. No! This was going too far; her private parts remained private! The woman chuckled amusedly, "Just kidding, silly! Just lie on top of it, lift it up until you feel it over your belly, and attach the tapes. If you're having difficulty, watch a YouTube video." Riley nodded and in a low voice thanked the woman, before leaving her field of vision he ruffled her hair playfully and wished her good luck with everything. Would she see her again someday? She took a package of diapers, one of wet wipes and a lotion of moisturizer and walked to the cashier to pay. The cashier who had served her, a woman in her 60s, complimented her on being a diligent and responsible girl. She could not blush upon hearing those sweet words; she wished they had been true! Once outside the supermarket, she felt over the moon, and the smile on her face was proof of that. Now, it remained for her to go home and turn back the clock; the day had taken a decidedly more exciting direction than the usual monotony. 2 Once she got home, Riley put her backpack down in her corner and pulled out everything she had bought at the supermarket. After that, she took them to her room and slammed them inside the closet, to hide them better she decided to throw some of her clothes on it. This was fine for the time being; Mom and Dad rarely came into her room and rarely went to look inside her closet. He ate the last slice of margherita pizza left inside the oven. It tasted terrible, but she didn't care so much as long as it satiated her a little. When the impromptu lunch was finished, Riley put her plate and glass back in the kitchen sink and rinsed them quickly, then set them to drip in the cabinet above the sink, just as her father had taught her, who, in turn, had taught her mother. She always did her homework in the kitchen. Usually she would have done them in her room in absolute peace, but being home alone and having hidden in those four walls her diapers, she could not afford to fail in her school duties. "Business before pleasure," her parents often reiterated to her. Literature was one of the boring subjects she found interesting, especially when it came to writing a short text trying to take a cue from a story written by a famous author. This time, she had to write a short text where the main character thought about a long series of concerns regarding his future. Riley did not have to reread the text from which that exercise originated; she already had in mind what she had to write and set about doing it. It took her ten minutes, then she went on to do the homework for the other subjects. At five in the afternoon, Riley finished the last exercise in math, the subject he hated most in the world. She closed all the books she had on the table, stowed all the pens and pencils scattered in her pencil case, and put them back in the bookcase that preceded the threshold to enter the kitchen. Finally free! She ran to her room, nearly tripping, and closed the door behind her. She approached the closet, every fiber in her body was in trepidation, and her hands wasted no time in opening the doors and throwing onto the floor the clothes she had used hours earlier to hide her loot. She still couldn't believe it, she had actually taken them and they were in her room, waiting to be used. She took the package, the wipes and the cream; with clumsy movements she laid them on the floor and admired them as if she were looking at a treasure made of gold and precious jewels. "What am I waiting for?" she asked herself and opened the package of diapers. She took one out and opened it. She studied it for a moment. Delicate, soft and very stretchy. Perhaps too stretchy for what she had expected, obviously it was a garment that had to fit on a multitude of different sized babies. She would have no problem wearing it, she reflected, since these diapers were the largest size she had found on that shelf. It would have to fit. She placed the diaper on the floor. Before sitting on it, she pulled down her panties and underwear. She took a damp washcloth and gave it a wipe down there, then applied moisturizer. She sat on it-as the lady at the super market had told her-and pulled the front over her belly. She was succeeding, the diaper fit, everything was running smoothly, and it was too early to sing victory right away. She attached the left and right ribbons, the diaper was attached to her body. Riley let out a long sigh. Was she dreaming? Impossible, she could feel her skin telling her, "Hey Riley, you're wearing a diaper!" She wanted to really answer, but her mouth was unable to move. She was living the dream. She stood up, the diaper remained there firmly in its position. It's perfect! An idea came to her: her panties were the diaper she was wearing. She took off her shoes (which she had forgotten she still had on), then slipped off her pants and kicked them onto the bed. Her panties fell onto the soles of her feet, the final step was near. She removed her feet from both ends, picked up her pants and put them back on. She looked at herself in the mirror. There she was: Riley, a normal eleven-year-old girl. The little girl looked down at her bottom, the flat padding of her diaper suggesting that she was wearing one and not normal underwear. She opted to change them for jeans, they turned out to be a better choice, her bottom had taken on its normal shape. Within minutes, Riley tidied up her room. The package safely inside the closet with the wipes and lotion; the underpants and panties in the dirty laundry basket in the bathroom and the washcloth tossed in the basket, again, in the bathroom. Everything was clean and tidy as if she had never been there at any time of the day. Mom and Dad would never suspect. At that moment, the sound of the lock came straight to her ears, then the creak of the door led her from the stairs. "I'm home!" announced Helen, her mother, in a tired voice. "Riley?" "I'm here, Mom." Helen looked at her daughter at the top of the stairs and a reassuring smile formed on her face. "Are you all right?" Riley nodded, "Everything's fine. You?" "Tired" she replied, hanging up her jacket. "Done all your homework?" "All of them." "Great," her mother commented happily. "Now I'll start making dinner. Pasta tonight!" * Greg returned at seven o'clock in the evening. Like his wife, he was wiped out from the endless hours at the office, each day the load was getting heavier and heavier, and keeping up with the various deadlines was beginning to become untenable. Seeing his wife's muse-like face and his little girl again lifted his spirits. "Good evening!" Greg entered the kitchen and curtsied. Riley and her mother greeted him with excitement and enthusiasm. Especially Mom, who kissed him fleetingly so as not to lose focus on preparing dinner. To her, however, he gave her a big hug. The pasta was delicious. Mom had been good at cooking it, and each forkful of spaghetti was a one-way ticket to food heaven. Riley cleaned the plate twice. "Gee, Riley!" surprised Helen. "You were really hungry!" The little girl nodded, smiling. "I'll join in!" added Greg, then swallowed a rolled forkful of spaghetti. Helen and Riley laughed. Dinner continued smoothly. Greg and Helen talked about their days, one more messy than the other, and Riley sat listening to them trying to follow the river of their words. She imagined a long stream of water heading toward a waterfall. Riley did not understand why her imagination was making her see this. What was her head trying to say? Then she felt the stimulus down there, the first of the day, that said softly to her, "Pee!" Oh no... not now! Riley remained composed and calm, she was good at not showing her emotions and passing for a different emotional state than she really felt. Peeing at the dinner table? In front of her parents unaware that she was wearing a diaper? What if she wet her jeans? No, that's too risky! She could get up and go to the bathroom, however, she would have to pay attention to the loudness of the diaper tapes. Mom and Dad would surely have heard the tear. She had no other choice, so she let go. The warm pee all over her as if she had dived into the pool, in less than a few moments the absorbent layer of the diaper absorbed it all inexorably. She felt only an uncomfortable damp sensation. All in all, she liked it. Mom and Dad continued with their talk, never stopping for a glass of wine. At one point, Helen stopped and sniffed the air. Seeing her, Riley did likewise; there was a strange, intense smell. "But where is this smell coming from?" she asked suddenly as she looked around. Greg also sniffed and looked around. "What kind of stench is that?" Riley imitated their movements and behaviors. Now they catch me... Now they catch me... Now they're going to catch me.... MOM AND DAD ARE GOING TO CATCH ME! Riley got up from her seat and with slow, silent steps approached the kitchen exit. But her mother's voice planted her there just a few steps from the door. It was over. "Riley, would you come here for a second?" In a barely audible voice, the little girl said, "Uh-oh." * Helen was puzzled at the sight of the undergarment her daughter was wearing. She turned her gaze to her husband who, like her, had no idea what was going on. With the chandelier light pointed at her, Riley lay there on the table in the living room with her jeans down. Her swollen and yellowed diaper was partially covered by her pink long-sleeved shirt. The little girl had a sorry expression on her face, but she did nothing to hide it, and she did not feel like crying. She looked in vain for her parents' gaze. Helen lifted the girl's shirt in a slow movement, then felt the diaper. Heavy and definitely at the limit of its absorbent capacity. She brought both hands together to remove the left tape, but stopped when Riley spoke in a submissive voice, "Mom... I have everything... in my room." Helen pulled her hand away from the child's waist. "What, honey?" "It's all in my room." Greg went and returned, and in his hands was the opened package of diapers with only one diaper missing. The two adults realized he hadn't had it long. Helen then grabbed her by the arms and sat her down. He gave her a stern look. "We would like an explanation, young lady," her father spoke in a firm voice. Riley sighed defeatedly. "Yesterday, I went to the supermarket to get a small bottle of water. As I was looking for the checkouts, I came across the shelves of products for small children... I went back there today and got all this." Greg looked at Helen, then she took the floor, "Why did you buy diapers?" Riley did not answer. "Riley, answer your mother," her father urged her. "I wanted to... wear them... I wanted to try them on," her voice was about to break into tears. Before bringing her hands to her face to hide it, she concluded, "I just wanted to wear them." Silence. "Wait here, we'll be right back," his mother said, walking away with Greg in tow. * Sheltered in the garage, Greg watched Helen pacing back and forth, intent on finding a foothold in that unpleasant, constantly falling situation. He, too, was as confused as his consort, but he did not let panic drive him. He pondered for a long time, then asked her, "What are you going to do?" Helen replied tartly, "I don't know Greg!" "It doesn't look like anything scary to me. It's better than seeing her with drugs in her hand." Helen gasped impatiently. "Gregory, for God's sake, what are you saying?" "I'm saying it's nothing scary. It's just ... diapers." "Just diapers?" she exclaimed exhaustedly. "Just diapers..." he replied uncertainly. "But it's not the end of the world, Helen." "You think if I let her wear them, she'll be okay?" "That might be a good idea," Greg replied sympathetically. "Let's see how the situation develops and-" "And?" "And we'll decide later what to do," he concluded. "Now, how about we worry about her dirty diaper?" Helen watched the door and nodded conflictedly. "I'll need some help changing her, I'm pretty rusty, you know." "All right, now let's get back to her, please." * "Wipe," Helen said, and Greg handed it to her. After that she rubbed it around Riley's private regions, who was enjoying the moment. Once thoroughly cleaned, Helen lifted her bottom, removed her soiled diaper and ordered her trusty colleague a clean diaper. Her husband slipped it off the package and started playing with Riley as he had when she was smaller. As the two of them played, and with a decisive move, Helen stole the diaper from her husband's hands, opened it and tucked it under her daughter's bottom. In a commanding voice, she announced, "Cream?" Greg handed it to her. In no time, Helen slathered it on her and closed her diaper. The magical moment ended in that instant of silence. "Now off to bed, young lady! We'll talk about this tomorrow, okay?" her mother told her in a loving voice. "Okay," and the little girl ran toward the stairs. "Mom? Dad?" "Yes, honey?" her father asked. Riley opened her mouth to speak, but then had second thoughts, "Nothing, goodnight." 3 Her parents were already in the kitchen when she came downstairs. From behind the ajar door, Riley heard the vibrating noise of the coffee machine and the sounds Dad made when he sucked milk from his bowl. Neither of them was talking; what had happened last night had shaken them to the point that they could no longer have a normal conversation, Riley surmised. She could not go back up to her room, her mother would come to wake her up and ask questions again about the.... At that moment, Riley remembered the diaper she was wearing. It had been years since she had peed in bed, and now that she was wearing a diaper, her old problem was back. "Yikes," she said as she pulled her pajama pants forward and looked at the bulging diaper. "Riley?" her mother called her from the kitchen. "Honey, is that you?" Riley pushed open the door. "Good morning." "Did you sleep well?" asked her father cozily. Riley nodded and sat down in her usual place. After that, her mother also joined them, holding her cup of freshly brewed coffee. "Are you okay ... down there?" her mother asked curiously, catching sight of the little girl's pants. "Um..." stammered Riley impishly. "Maybe not." "Don't worry," her mother snapped at her in a soothing tone, "later, we'll fix it." "Okay." "Do you want cereal or cookies with a bowl of warm milk?" her father proposed as he stood up. "I'm not... in the mood... in the mood for breakfast, Dad." "Are you sure?" "Yes," replied Riley confidently. "In your opinion, am I crazy?" Both Greg and Helen were horrified by her question. They looked at each other for a moment, without thinking twice Greg reassured her, "No, no, no. You are not crazy, you are perfect just the way you are." Riley's eyes began to glaze over. "Even though ... I want to wear diapers? Even though ... I'm 11 years old?" Greg opened his mouth to answer, but Helen beat him to the timing. In a firm, loving voice she said, "Yes. If that's what you want, we'll let you." "Really?" the little girl asked, wiping away a tear that ran down one eye. Then she looked her mother straight in the eye. "Yes," she reassured her. "But there will be rules." Riley looked at her mother and father interdictedly. "Rules? What kind of rules?" Greg was also puzzled, but said nothing. Her mother Helen resumed speaking. "If you want to wear a diaper, just tell us and we'll put it on. This implies that only Dad and I will be able to change you and, most importantly, check it if you had an "accident." "If you would not like to wear it and put on big girl panties, just tell us and we will accommodate you. This is first rule. All clear?" "Yes," Riley answered truthfully. She had never taken her eyes off her mother throughout the whole talk. "Second rule: the diaper issue stays between us. It will be our secret. You will only wear it when it's just the three of us. Before you ask, you won't wear it at school, the reason you can guess for yourself," Helen explained. "Fair enough," commented the 11-year-old. "Can I wear it when I go out with you?" "Yes," replied Greg confidently. "I remind you that only Mom and I are aware of your 'secret.' Keep that in mind." "Are there any other rules?" asked Riley innocently. "Nothing else comes to mind at the moment," said Greg then asked his consort, "Do you have any other rules in mind?" "I have nothing to add at the moment." "I do have an addition in mind," Riley spoke cautiously. "But it's not a rule, can I make it anyway?" Helen and Greg exchanged a doubtful look, but they both wanted to hear what their little girl had to say. It was Helen who gave her the floor. "I'd like to get some pull-ups," Riley began determinedly, and seeing the doubtful looks from her parents, she had to make a long speech, "They're panties that are also diapers. If I started wearing diapers, I would start peeing or doing number two without me knowing it. With pull-ups I can go to the bathroom as if I were wearing regular panties. "They are easier to put on. You would rip the sides and slip it on like regular panties. They also have a symbol on the front to tell if I need to be changed." "I have two questions," Greg said puzzled. "When would you wear them? Then, how do you know all these things?" "I'll answer the second question: it's all written on their packages. Answering the first, I could put them on alternately with my underwear to stay trained to go to the bathroom at all times," the little girl answered excitedly. "They can also come in handy for going out," commented Helen. "I think we've talked enough, how about we go get ready?" "To go where, Mom?" "We're going shopping, honey," replied her mother, taking her by the hand and walking her out of the kitchen. "Where are you going?" asked Greg curiously. "We're going to get ready," replied Helen playfully. "Someone needs a clean diaper." * Riley was surprised by her mother's skill and care in cleaning her and putting on her new diaper. The night before it seemed like it was one of the first times she had done it; today, however, she was a veteran with a long experience behind her. "Done," her mother told her as she attached the last tape. "Get changed and remember to put on something that will hide the diaper better." The little girl opted for a long dark green sweatshirt and a pair of black jeans. In front of the mirror, even she could not tell if she was wearing a diaper. Great, I'm ready. Thirty minutes later, mother and daughter, hand in hand, entered the supermarket. Helen was struck to see that sincere smile on her daughter's face. She could not remember when was the last time she had seen her smile like that. Finding the pull-ups was as easy as drinking a glass of water. Riley was over the moon in grabbing the package. Seeing the caricatures of cartoon characters on a pink background left her speechless. She found them as gorgeous as the diaper she was wearing. After paying, they returned home. Once they returned, Helen took the opportunity to check her diaper. She took her to herself, pulled down her jeans and felt her well: she had peed, she had peed a lot! She led her to her room, The little girl threw herself on the bed, eager to be changed clean. "Mom, can I put on one of the pull-ups?" asked Riley as her mother opened her diaper. She grabbed a washcloth and set about cleaning her private parts. Not thinking much about it, she replied, "All right, but when you have to go to the bathroom you have to tell us." Having finished cleaning her thoroughly and applying the cream, Helen helped Riley put on her first pull-up. The little girl did, quite literally, jump for joy. "How are they?" asked her mother. "It's a cross between a diaper and underwear. They are so comfortable!" replied the 11-year-old happily. Helen rolled up the soiled diaper, then said to her, "I'm going to make lunch. Remember to go to the bathroom and rememtell us, okay?" "Okay, Mom," she slipped on her jeans. Just before her mother came out of her room, Riley called her. "Thank you," she told her. Helen smiled at her and left. For a moment, Riley felt like the luckiest little girl in the world. 4 The following Monday, as per routine, Riley went to school and came home. The day had given her quite a few surprises: a surprise history test, a math quiz, and pair work in art class. She had done the test and the quiz to the best of her knowledge, all thanks to her method of study that allowed her to defend herself well even in the most reluctant questions. Surely the test went well, she told herself. The art hour, however, put her to the test. She had never had much inclination for artistic and creative subjects-except for writing where she felt she had mastered the real thing-too abstract and poorly understood. Had it not been for Theo to guide her, the blank canvas would have become her definitive work that would have enshrined her in the long line of bad artists. Theo. It was rare that a classmate of hers intruded into her endless stream of thought. It seemed to her that she was discovering his existence for the first time. Like her, he was shy, solitary and unreachable. Those thoughts made her lose her appetite, so she went to her room to put on some more comfortable clothes to stay in, including putting on a pull-up. She grabbed her backpack and immediately set out to do her homework; she planned to spend the afternoon doing whatever she wanted. With the last science exercise completed, the little girl stood up and stretched. The rumbling of her stomach reminded her that she had skipped lunch, she looked at the clock: it was two o'clock in the afternoon. She had better eat something. She put a piece of frozen pizza in the microwave oven, set the temperature and time - 10 minutes - and pressed the "START" button. She waited sitting at the table. The ringing of the phone made its way through all the rooms,m until it reached the kitchen. Riley sprinted to the living room where the phone was located, picked up the handset and in a nervous voice said, "Hello?" "Hey, Riley, it's Theo," said the voice with a bit of insecurity. "Am I disturbing you?" "Hey, Theo," she greeted him, then answered happily, "no bother. Tell me everything." "I just wanted to ask you how you found yourself working with me today," he said cautiously. "I saw you ... angry, I wanted to know how you were." Riley bit his lower lip, and without his noticing a drop of pee ended up in her diaper. Theo was telling the truth, during that hour of class she felt like a complete wimp, a no-good. At one point, just before the end of class, she roared all her frustration at him. She sighed thinking back to those thirteen seconds that seemed interminable, then answered him in a sincere voice, "I'm fine. I've calmed down and..." She paused to sigh again. "I'm sorry I acted that way. It usually doesn't happen to me to-" "Of not being able to do something right?" the companion on the other side added promptly. "I know how that feels." Riley smiled, wondering if Theo could have seen it. No, he couldn't have seen her; who knows where he lives!" she told herself. "So, do you forgive me?" "Even if you didn't apologize to me, I'd still forgive you," Theo said casually. "Would you like to come over and finish the task?" She missed a beat. Had she heard correctly? A classmate of hers asking her to come over? Yes, she had understood correctly. She would have wanted to say yes immediately, but what if Mom and Dad had said no? Riley answered uncertainly, "I have to talk to my parents about it first. If I'm not mistaken, your parents should have their numbers? At least they should have my mom's." Theo muttered something (or so it seemed to Riley). "Yes, my mom told me she has both, but she prefers you to talk to them directly." Riley brought her hand to his temple in disbelief. Of course she was going to talk to them directly about it! He replied, "When they come back I will talk to them about it. Let's stay that way for now." "Alright, I'll talk to you later or possibly tomorrow," he concluded, then said goodbye to her, "Have a great rest of your day. Bye Riley!" "You too, Theo! Bye!" and hung up. At that exact moment, the squeaky, annoying sound of the oven alerted her that her snack was ready. She jumped off the couch, but something stopped her on the spot. What the... The little girl touched the front of her pull-up. It was hot and the front symbol was slightly faded, but it wouldn't be long before it disappeared completely. "I better go pee before I get it all over me," she confuted to herself aloud, as if there was another person with her, and went to the bathroom. * The pizza tasted like cardboard. The tomato and cheese had lost their distinctive flavors; the dough was the only decent thing that managed to convince her to go all the way through it, every last bite. The cold pull-up began to bother her, especially between her legs. Rule one was pretty clear. If you want to wear a diaper, just tell us and we'll put it on. This implies that only Daddy and I will be able to change you and, most importantly, check it if you had an "accident." When she put on the pull-up, Riley had not heeded to the rules they had imposed on her that Saturday morning. She couldn't wait for Mommy (or Daddy) to come home and clean her up and put a clean diaper on her. They would come to know that she had transgressed one of the rules. She made up her mind: she would tell the truth. She thought back to what had happened that night. She brought her legs against his chest and hugged them, their puzzled faces still well in her mind. At that moment she made a promise to herself: No more secrets and no more lies to Mom and Dad. To chase those thoughts away, she went up to the second floor, went to her room to get a book and headed for the bathroom to pee. * Riley was engrossed in reading that she paid no attention to her mother entering the house. In fact, it was her appearance in the kitchen that brought her back to reality. The little girl began to break into a cold sweat. "I didn't know you were reading," Helen exclaimed in surprise. "Did you do all your homework?" Riley nodded a nervous smile. She was not good at masking her emotions, and Helen immediately sensed that something was wrong. She asked her, "Honey, is something wrong?" Riley suddenly got up from her chair with still that smile that Helen found annoying. She hastily replied, "Yes, yes, yes, Mom! Everything is fine! I'm just glad you're back!" Helen gave her a guarded look. "Why are you acting like this? It's not like you." True, Riley couldn't blame her; she couldn't explain that strange behavior. She gave a tense giggle, then calmed herself by taking three deep breaths. There, she was about to tell her, "Mom, do you remember the rules you gave me for diapers?" Her mother nodded and crossed her arms. He looked her straight in the eye, from her face she was not at all pleased. She asked in a haughty tone, "Are you wearing one now and need to be changed?" "I'm wearing a pull-up," the sorry little girl hastened to say. "Sorry, I couldn't resist." Helen looked up at the ceiling. "I should have expected you to wear one in our absence. By the way, again!" Riley looked down guiltily, turning her toes back over each other. Helen continued brooding, but on the verge of scolding her. "I appreciate you telling me, Riley. However, your father and I gave you rules for a reason. These aren't toys; they can harm your health if misused. Being in one of those things for a long time could give you a skin rash. Do you understand?" She turned her gaze to her and nodded. "Now we're going to go up and give you a good cleaning," he told her. "Until I talk it over with your father, you're going to wear big girl panties. Diapers and pull-ups are off-limits!" "All right," Riley said, and her mother escorted her to the bathroom. * "Today I got a call from Theo, a classmate of mine," Riley began as her mother removed her dirty pull-up. "We have an art assignment we have to finish. He asked if I would be free to go to his house tomorrow. Do I have your permission to go?" Helen rubbed her nether regions well and then replied, "We'll talk about it tonight over dinner with your father, okay?" "Okay," replied Riley meekly and let her mother finish cleaning her. "No diaper? Not even for the night?" Helen shot her the look. Riley sighed in disappointment. "Understood." "Would you tell me what you understood?" her mother questioned her in a stern voice. "I understood that not following the rules has consequences." "So?" "You will not put me in a diaper now or before going to bed." "What will you do before you go to bed?" "I will go to the bathroom and pee like a big girl." "I guess you've learned your lesson, at least for now," Helen concluded contentedly. 5 Riley remained silent for most of dinner. The talk she had with her mother in the bathroom monopolized her thoughts; she began to think that they would confiscate her diapers and throw them into oblivion. He found rule one unfair, why could only her mother and father get their hands on her diaper, despite the fact that she had managed to put on a diaper by herself without anyone's help? Adults are weird!" she thought. "You're quiet today," her father began curiously, "did something happen?" Riley looked up from her empty plate and looked at her mother. With her gaze, she was telling her to tell her father what she had done. "Yes, something happened," the little girl replied indifferently. "In fact, two things happened." "Which one do you want to start with?" interjected Helen, feigning curiosity. "A classmate of mine called me today," Riley began a tad excitedly, "Theo Bennett. We have to finish our pair work for Professor Towers, he asked if I could go to his house tomorrow to finish the project and do homework together." "I don't see why not," Greg drank a glass of wine. Then he turned to his consort, "Did you say yes too?" Helen smiled at him. "Yes. Her friend lives nearby and His parents are willing to have her as a guest for lunch. So of problems we don't have any, is it okay for you to pick her up in the evening? That way I have time to take care of some chores around the house." Greg nodded and smiled at his daughter. He commented happily, "I didn't think you had a friend!" "Yeah," Riley laughed nervously. He didn't really consider Theo a friend; he was more of an acquaintance, almost a stranger. Who knows why his father had already labeled him as his friend? "What about the other thing?" asked Greg then casually. Riley's face darkened for a moment; she felt the conversation would take a turn for the worse. She sensed her mother's stern look. Okay Riley, you can do it. It's like an interrogation: beginning, explanation, conclusion. "Here..." the little girl spoke softly. "Today I... wore a pull-up on the sly." A contented smile took shape on Helen's face, glad to hear Riley admit her mistake and direct it to her better half. Greg sighed dejectedly. "So, you're telling us you wore a diaper in our absence?" "Pull-up, Greg," Helen corrected him. Greg quickly repeated his question, but corrected. "Yes, Daddy," Riley replied sadly. "That's the first thing I did when I came home. Then Mom came and I told her everything. I'm sorry." "Did you pee there?" asked her father tensely. Helen intervened, "From what I understood, yes and no. She had peed some before I came back, then she peed again just before I changed her and cleaned her up. So, she did it twice." Riley blushed full of embarrassment. Was that a detail to point out? "Is she wearing another one now?" asked Greg to his wife, forgetting his daughter's presence. "Big girl's panties," Helen replied. "I have a punishment in mind to give her for transgressing the rule." "Shall we talk about it now? In front of her?" "No," Helen replied, remembering that Riley was there with them. "There's something I'd like to point out to both of you." She paused. As long as she had all eyes on her, Helen continued with her speech, "This is especially about you, Riley. Today while I was changing you, I noticed that you hadn't given yourself a good scrubbing down there. Tell me out of curiosity, did you go to the bathroom once today?" "Yes, I went," replied Riley downcast. "After I noticed that I had slightly wet my pull-up." "You gave yourself a scrub, didn't you?" Her mother asked. Riley shook her head. "You know that after you pee you have to clean yourself up down there," her mother scolded her. "That's why I've decided that every time you come out of the bathroom, you have to come to me so I can take a look at you. We'll start tonight." Riley did not protest. Her mother was right; she could do nothing but humor her. "All right." A brief silence followed, and both Greg and Helen got up with their dishes in hand to go put them back in the dishwasher. Riley sat there in her seat, her fear of no more diapers making her eyes glaze over. "Will you take them away from me forever?" asked Riley fearfully. Both her parents approached her. "No," her mother consoled her. "We don't want to take away your diapers, if you want to take them, we won't object. We are doing this to teach you, to teach you to be more responsible." Riley pulled up her nose. "Why can't I wear them by myself?" "Because we want to take care of you," her mother promptly replied. "As well as making sure you get cleaned properly." "Thank you," said Riley and hugged her mother, then hugged her father as well. "We are here, honey," her father told her, then her daughter broke the hug. Riley took her plate and put it in the dishwasher, next to her parents' plates. She helped them clear the table and then they went to the living room to watch a movie. * "Am I disturbing you?" asked Helen in a low voice. She was in the doorway to her bedroom. "No, tell me," replied Riley and closed the book he was reading. "Come in." "I've come to take you to the bathroom," she announced, holding out her hand to her daughter. "Even if you don't run away, I want to make sure you go to the bathroom before you go to sleep." Riley grasped her hand and let herself be carried away. She did not find this new custom fair; she was a big girl, not a little girl. "Mom! I'm 11, I know when I have to go to the bathroom!" whined Riley. "I know," laughed her mother. "But sometimes, moms want to make sure their kids go to the bathroom before they go to sleep." Entering the bathroom, without letting go, Helen positioned Riley in front of the toilet. The little girl felt uncomfortable; her mother's presence put her under great stress. She wanted to tell her, but nothing would change her mind about going out and giving her a moment of privacy. Her mother knelt down and proceeded to gently lower her pants, Riley could not help but blush. After that, she told her softly, "What are you waiting for? Sit down and try it." The little girl obeyed resignedly, as well as red in the face like a tomato. The toilet was cold, but her mother's reassuring gaze caught her attention. She smiled at her and let go. "All done?" she asked her as soon as the tapping turned to silence and the little girl nodded confidently. "Good, now on your feet." Riley stood up, then her mother tore off three pieces of toilet paper. With gentle forward motions she cleaned it under there. She repeated those gestures five times, subsequently flushing the paper down the toilet. Riley recognized the pattern; she used to do this when she was younger. Same care and gentleness, she seemed to have gone back in time. "That's how you should wipe," she concluded in a calm, teacher's voice. "Always forward, never backwards. Minimum five times, if you want to be sure give it three more passes. All clear?" "All clear," she answered truthfully, lifting her underpants and underwear in one go. "Thank you, Mommy." "You're welcome. I'm going to bed," announced her mother as she returned to her feet. "Flush and brush your teeth. Oh, before I forget, tomorrow when you come back, I'll take a look at you. Good night, honey." "Good night, Mommy," he told her before squeezing the flush lever. * "What did you have in mind?" asked Greg already under the covers. "I don't know yet," replied Helen doubtfully. "We could use diapers as a reward when she behaves." "Helen," he spoke exasperatedly, "she is a good girl. She studies and behaves well." "A good girl sneaks a pack of diapers, puts one on and pees in front of her parents?" pointed out Helen annoyed. "She didn't even follow the rules we gave her on Saturday!" "I don't understand why you have to punish her." "Greg, she sneaked a diaper!" reminded Helen, her voice frustrated. "When did we put her in a diaper?" began Greg meditatively. "Monday through Friday, only in the evening and at night. Saturday and Sunday she could wear it all day. You know what I mean?" Helen furrowed her brow. "No." "Riley doesn't enjoy them enough. Only two days. No wonder she wants to sneak them on," Greg enlightened her. "And you want to punish her even though she told you the truth." "We can't help it, our jobs keep us away from her," Helen replied. "She won't bring them this weekend, that's decided." "Then you don't understand," blurted Greg. "When she brings it, she's happy. Even with the pull-ups, she's happy. Isn't that clear to you?" "It's quite clear to me," Helen replied curtly. "I want to teach her that choices have consequences. When we had caught her with that dirty diaper, we did nothing. "I don't want Riley to get into this bad habit of doing what she wants on the sly." Greg got up and went to sit beside his wife and kissed her left cheek. "She would never do that," he said in a sultry voice. "You know the thing she hates most is to hurt us. That's why she told you the truth today." A tear streaked down her face. "Do you think she'll take it badly if I tell her she can't wear diapers this weekend?" "Will she take it badly? Yes, definitely." "It's decided, this is her punishment." "You know I'm against it right?" "Yes, but you'll have to humor me this time," Helen concluded and began to snog him. 6 Theo no longer had the strength to hold his head up to pay attention to the lesson of Mrs. Daniels, the literature teacher. He had the crazy idea of resting his head on his desk, his nose and forehead attached closely to the notebook paper. He did not care if the middle-aged woman saw him and scolded him. Riley, unlike her desk mate, could keep up with her lengthy explanations. Eyes following her every movement and her right hand writing on the notepad every word that came from her thick lips. Mrs. Daniels walked over to the blackboard and began to draw a diagram that looked like an upside-down tree. At the top and middle she wrote "How to write a horror story" and drew three arrows far apart. "How do you keep from falling asleep?" asked Theo in a low voice at one point. "I stay awake and listen," she answered quietly. Theo changed position. He stretched out his arms on the bench and rested his chin on the bench. She said in a half-asleep voice, "I can't wait for it to be over." She wanted it too, damn right she did! Riley felt she was at the end of her rope. Listening and writing at the same time took a large chunk of her energy, which, after four hours of class, she had none left. To avoid falling behind, the 11-year-old began writing as fast as she could; readability would suffer greatly. Half an hour later, the last bell of the day rang. Mrs. Daniels said she would explain the third arrow the next day, but the buzz of her students' voices prevented her words from reaching their ears. Getting angry was useless now. She grabbed her smartphone and took a picture of the blackboard, then began to put all her things in her backpack. For her, too, the day had turned to an end. "Mrs. Daniels?" a female voice called to her that she recognized. "Yes, Riley?" "You dropped this," she said and handed her dirty, weather-worn blue case. "I thought something was missing," she exclaimed in surprise as she grabbed the object. Most likely it had fallen from the desk during the general marasmus. She thanked her in a kind voice, then asked, "Do you have any doubts about today's class?" "Um..." she hinted uncertainly as she flipped through her notepad. "I actually would have one." Mrs. Daniels looked at her watch. It was 1:20 in the afternoon. She had to go to lunch with her colleagues and was, punctually, late. "You will bring it to me tomorrow, I really have to run now. Study mind you," she told her mortified and hurried out. "Of course she has to run," the little girl commented irritably and set off to join her friend downstairs. * "So," Theo began thoughtfully, "what do you think about . um... geography?" Riley thought about it before giving her answer. She loved geography. Finding out the customs, the lifestyle of the inhabitants, the strengths of the economy, and the brief history of a state in the world excited her so much. Unfortunately, this subject fell into the "I hate this subject because of the teacher" group. "Nice for goodness sake," replied Riley holding back an edge of anger, "but Mr. Johnson is making me hate it." "Then it's a common thought," Theo said, then asked her another question. "Let's get off the subject of school shall we? What do you do in your spare time?" I sneak around and use diapers! Ha ha ha! If I answered him like that, he would think I was crazy. Ha ha ha ha! Riley held back a laugh at that thought, although there was nothing funny about it. Theo looked at her puzzled. "Never mind," Riley hastened to say, "I read and write. Do you?" "I read too!" gave a toothy grin Theo, nearly baring her way. "What kind of books do you read?" Riley hinted with a smile. If she had had a diaper on, she would have peed from excitement. But at that moment she didn't have one, so she had to restrain herself as any big girl would. She cleared her throat, then answered him, "I mainly read fantasy books, occasionally I read normal books." "Normal books?" "Books that are not in the fantasy or science fiction genre," she explained to him. "Mom is convinced that I like them a lot, so she gets them for me." "For example?" asked Theo curiously. He seemed to know the genres in question. "The last ones she got me are about friendship, simple and mundane and without any elements that manage to stand out from other books dealing with the same topics," Riley accentuated her feeling of annoyance toward the end. "Sometimes I wonder why my mother gets me such books, even though I don't like them." "Do you remember the names by any chance?" asked Theo without losing interest. "I ask because I only read those kinds of books." "Books about friendship?" "No, children's fiction books," Theo pointed out. "The fantasy genre doesn't appeal to me much." "Oh," said Riley slightly disappointed. "Anyway, the names of those books are When We Were Together and Ashes. I could have done without reading them." Theo retorted offended, "You can't say Ashes sucks! It's the only one that manages to touch chords that other books in the same genre can't!" "For example?" questioned Riley in a defiant tone. "The whole story revolves around the so-called 'invisible string theory,' " Theo began to explain, "according to which a person is nothing more than the center of an infinite set of strings that connect him to other centers-which are other people. I point out right away that this does not exist in reality, but still, the protagonist - Paul - becomes the epicenter of the pain of every single character he interacts with. "This is where the main themes of the story surface: the desire to connect to others and the outside hand that helps those who are suffering. Paul is a loner, whether he likes it or not he needs to be around people, so he joins the group of losers ignored by everyone and constantly targeted by bullies. "As he spends his time with them he realizes that he too has his own limitations and difficulties to overcome. So he decides to help them overcome their fears and difficulties, they also do the same for him. When Richard and Izzy die in the car accident, Paul begins to wonder if all this connecting with each other is really worth it, so he becomes the spark that destroys all the strings that bind to him. "Needless to say, this is his reaction to their death and that talking to someone about it kept him from destroying the last, most important bonds he still had: his new friends and his family. The ending in which he and his friends throw their ashes at the lake where they first met is the symbol-and the title-of the play." Riley stood in silence surprised to have heard an explanation that only she could have brought up if she had discussed it with another person who was not interested in books. Theo was a reader like her; his attention to detail was identical to hers. It was true!" she told herself. It had not happened in her head! It had happened for real! "Wow!" was the only thing she managed to say. Then Theo stopped in front of an empty driveway that led to a two-story white house. "Here we are. This is my house, welcome!" In that instant, Riley realized that she had removed from her mind the fact that she and Theo were walking to his house. Their conversations had overridden their perceptions of reality, at least hers since Theo was in charge of taking her to his house. They had passed by her house and she had not even noticed! She felt lost for a moment. Mom was right, he lived not very far from her house and the other dwellings were very reminiscent of hers. Getting lost was impossible; she would find her way back in no time. The kids approached the front door. Theo rang the doorbell and saw Riley looking around, but it did not take her long to realize that it was the same porch she had at home. They were greeted by her father, Hank Bennett. An all-American man, broad-shouldered and fully fit, he wore a tank top and long pants. Both the 11-year-olds were speechless to see him in such attire in the middle of winter. "Hey, guys!" Hank greeted them, then turned to the little guest. "You must be Riley, very nice to meet you!" "Nice to meet you too, Mr. Bennet," replied the little girl politely, then proceeded to remove her jacket. "Call me Hank," the man quickly put in an amused manner. "I may be an adult, but I'm not that adult, you know? I still feel like a 20-year-old kid!" Both Theo and Riley burst into thunderous laughter. "Take off your shoes and go wash your hands, lunch is ready," announced Hank and then hurriedly headed for the kitchen. In the bathroom, Riley was the first to wash her hands. Theo suggested that she go first because he had been told that, and I quote, males must know how to behave well with females, as they are the fairer sex, so they had to go first. Hearing this, Riley had to hold back laughter. "Really?" was his response. Theo replied gallantly, "Yes, milady. You ladies are viewed differently than we gentlemen. Therefore, we ask you not to express criticism of our manner." This time she could not hold them back and burst out laughing for the second time; he had been in her house for just over ten minutes and was already fighting not to pee her pants from the laughs. 7 Mr. Bennett had cooked excellent steaks: flavorful, slightly spicy and cooked to the right temperature. Riley filled and cleaned her plate three times; as luck would have it, he had cooked about ten small and medium-sized steaks. Theo was the one who ate the least out of all of them; he justified himself by saying that he did not have much of an appetite. Lunch finished, the two friends helped Mr. Bennet clear the table, after which he left them on his way to his office. Theo explained to Riley that his father worked from home on certain days of the week, and today was one of those days. It would have been nice if her parents had that chance too, the little girl thought to herself. Three o'clock in the afternoon. The two eleven-year-olds were already at work on their couple's project in the kitchen, the only space in the house large enough for them to work on. The week before, Mrs. Towers assigned their class a job to do in pairs: draw a city where the real stars were the buildings. No streets, just buildings and the sky. She would grade all the work and give both components the same grade. She left the barbaric task of creating the pairs to the students, who, in addition to generating chaos, formed balanced pairs. Riley and Theo balanced each other well. She, an excellent art history student and bad artist, and he, a good art history student and very talented artist. Theo came up with a definite idea of how to make the city, the object on which their delivery was based. Four skyscrapers arranged in the shape of a trapezoid, the two forming the minor base in the foreground and the other two - making up the major base - following and well away from the sides of the sheet; surrounded by other buildings with windows colored in colors other than yellow, intended to color all the windows in the trapezoid. Riley, art denier that she was, approved of the idea, but on the condition that they make an informed choice of colors. And there they were, passing the colors around and coloring the multitudes of white squares that remained. Yellow windows (the first ones the duo colored), reds, oranges, pinks, greens, blues, magentas, purples and many other colors caught the attention of anyone who looked at them. The sky was still white with gray insignia of the Moon and the clouds passing in the midst of those black towers, they told themselves that would be the last part they would color. They had set a list for themselves: draw the buildings and skyscrapers with windows; color the windows; draw the clouds; and finally, color them together with the sky. Compared to the time in the classroom, Riley was more relaxed and more confident in coloring the white spaces. Moreover, the silence that enveloped the kitchen room kept her glued to her task. From time to time, she cast glances at her friend to make sure he was doing his part. It wasn't necessary; Theo was devoting his heart and soul to coloring buildings and windows and, every few seconds, supervising their work. It's definitely coming along nicely. Theo and I are not a bad team after all. An hour later, Theo put down the purple marker and gave a tired sigh. Then he asked his friend, "How many windows do we have left?" Riley finished coloring the last window with red and announced it contentedly in a very high tone of voice, after realizing this she apologized. Theo raised his arms to the ceiling in victory. Exhausted, he said, "We are almost at the end." At that point, Riley got up from her seat. "Where's the bathroom, Theo?" "Up, turn left and first door to the left," he answered her in the same voice. "While you go to the bathroom, I'm going to stop and recover too. I'm beat!" Riley walked out of the kitchen and headed for the stairs. He went up to the second floor and turned to the left, as Theo had told him moments earlier, and looked for the bathroom door with his eyes. There it was! It was a plain white door; she lowered the handle and stepped inside. The bathroom furniture was all light blue, like the diaper packaging she had at home, while the walls were a strange white. He observed it closely; it was a white with light blue undertones. So the dominant color of the bathroom was light blue, she told herself and walked to the toilet that was at the end of the room. In front of the toilet, a dark sky-blue dresser stood toward the ceiling, it looked as if it might touch it, but the thin deep black space gave the 11-year-old confirmation that the cabinet was not in contact with the ceiling. Beautiful, she thought as he squared it from top to bottom. She counted six in total. She looked at it again for the second time. The last drawer was open, inside it a package of diapers was illuminated by the light coming from the window. She recognized them; they were Pampers Baby-Dry overnight diapers. Overnight diapers -- wait a minute, does Theo pee in bed? Riley ignored that question and ignored the contents of that drawer. She pulled down her pants and... gasped in disbelief. Her panties were slightly wet, the smell of pee plugged her nose. Oh, come on! Wasting no more time, she pulled them down and sat on the toilet. Theo's diapers and her panties' smell became her fixed thoughts for that minute sitting to relieve herself. It couldn't be true. * In forty minutes, the work was finished and all imperfections removed. Riley and Theo were satisfied, especially him since it had been his idea. "What grade do you think we'll get?" asked Theo of her. "I don't know... maybe an A," Riley replied slightly nervously. "I doubt we'll get a bad grade!" Theo smiled at her, then took the drawing and put it inside the clear envelope he had brought it home with the week before, then put it inside his backpack, being careful not to crumple it. After that, he told her happily, "Mrs. Towers will be impressed with our work." "Mmh-mmh," Riley quipped casually, thinking about the wet underwear against her skin. Mom would surely take her back. "Would you like to see my room?" proposed Theo to her. "I'd like to show you my bookcase." "All right," Riley answered him, smiling. She felt the need to distract herself from everything and turn off her brain. On the stairs, Theo said, "I'm going to the bathroom and then I'll join you. My room is the third door on the right." Suddenly, Riley stopped on the last step terrified. Now? Right now you have to go to the bathroom, Theo? Then in the same bathroom where your diapers are in full view? Oh... maybe I'd better tell him. "Wait a moment, Theo," she hesitated in a serious tone. "There's something I have to tell you." "Can't you wait a few minutes?" the friend implored her. "I'll come in and out." No, I can't wait! In fact, I don't want to wait! "Theo, I saw them!" admitted Riley apologetically. "I went in and saw the open drawer." Theo's face darkened. Riley recognized that expression, even that state of mind. She felt guilty, the same guilt she had when her parents caught her with a diaper on. "So... now you know about my little secret." Riley nodded. "I won't tell anyone, I promise." "I know you won't," Theo told her like it was nothing, then smiled. Silence. "I know you have a lot of questions for me, but I'm going to go to the bathroom first and then we'll talk about it," Theo said as he headed for the bathroom in small steps. Before taking his leave, he reminded her, "Third door on the right!" * Boring. Boring. Super boring! Boring. My goodness, pure boredom! Boring. Riley was standing in front of Theo's bookcase in her room. She was studying the various books he had and, reluctantly, could not find one that would pique her interest. She began to wonder if Theo took those stories seriously. From the titles alone, which were trite and not at all profound - except for "Ashes," which reevaluated her - she could already imagine the other stories. "Gee, Theo," she said boredly. "Besides Ashes, you don't have any exciting books." "I expected this answer from you," he said as he entered his room. Riley jumped in fear. Had she spoken too loudly again? After that, she sat on her bed and watched Theo take two random books from the bookshelf. There was something about him that did not convince her, her eyes studied his butt. Why is his butt so... big? The friend made a leap to grab a book, failed. So he made another, this time succeeding. Twice, his ears picked up rough sounds reminiscent of typical paper noises. At that point, Riley understood: Theo was wearing the night diaper he had seen in the bathroom. What had he put it on for? "Here," Theo told her, handing her two of his books. Ashes and When We Were Together, the two books they had talked about before entering the house. He added hopefully, "Reread them and then tell me what you think." Riley raised her right eyebrow, not understanding this last sentence. "If you want to try to change my mind, you're way off base. Besides, I already have these two at home." Theo resumed them mortified. "I had forgotten we talked about them, but read them again anyway." "Why?" Theo put them on his desk. "Your idea can change you know?" The friend wasted no time in thinking it over. So, she replied doubtfully, "Okay." After that, Theo sat beside Riley on the bed, keeping his distance to respect her "boundaries." He had never stopped smiling. "Whatever questions you have in mind, ask me," his friend prodded her. "Why are you wearing a diaper?" Embarrassed Theo looked down, but pretended not to. How had she guessed he was wearing one? He replied surprised, "I wanted to put it on." "But aren't you supposed to put it on before you go to bed?" "Yes, but sometimes I put it on long before I go to bed," Theo explained, scratching the back of his head. "My parents let me, but as long as I take it off, do what I have to do, and then put it back on. They check on me a lot to make sure I'm following the rules." Riley nodded. Like at home, her parents had given her rules, albeit different ones, and they wanted to make sure she stayed safe. But to Theo, diapers were like regular underwear-that was the subtle difference that made them different. She would have liked to tell him that she wore diapers too, but after what happened recently and her promise, she let that desire disappear from her mind. "Every once in a while... you think you want to... try to... you know," Riley stammered, but she did not understand why. Theo answered naturally; he was just at ease. "Yes, every now and then. Then it comes back to me that I do it in my sleep and the urge goes away. Also because my mom shudders when she has to take it off me. She hates to get her hands on something messy like my diaper after a good night's sleep." "I understand," replied Riley sadly. "It can't be easy for any of you." "Mom and Dad keep trying new methods to get me to stop," Theo admitted bitterly, as if it were an impossible problem to solve. "As I told you, it's my mother who puts it on and takes it off. Occasionally my father does it, but he is not good at cleaning down there. Even though he is a male like me, sometimes it hurts me. That's why I prefer my mother." Riley wanted to tell him, she didn't want to make him feel lonely. That's what she had sensed in his voice. Also mixed in were innocence and regret for being that way. No one has to know, Riley. Just me, Mom and Dad! The three of us! Silence. Riley couldn't resist a minute longer. "Theo, I have a secret too," she began cautiously and truthfully. "I wear diapers, too." "Bedwetting is a common thing among us eight-to-thirteen-year-olds," Theo revealed for the purpose of curiosity. "You don't understand, I wear them all the time," Riley sputtered. "Or rather, only on weekends do I wear them. Morning, afternoon, evening and night. I don't have any medical problems, I just like them. I like their drawings, I like peeing on them and feeling them all around me. And, most of all, the attention my parents give me in taking care of me." Theo remained silent, having no idea what to say. He wanted her to be happy, she wanted him to be happy too, so he hugged her tightly. "Your secret is safe with me, Riley," he told her in a low voice. Riley was speechless, the hug and his words warmed her heart. She was not dreaming, the warmth of her friend made her feel good, safe. She told him in a soft voice, "Yours is with me too, forever." 8 The rest of the afternoon went smoothly. Riley and Theo managed to do all the homework they had and spent the last half hour up in his room talking about the thing that had led them to become best friends: diapers. They stretched out on the floor, wanting to play out a scene from a book they had read where two characters - a boy and a girl - were talking about their problems lying on the floor next to each other. To feel more comfortable, Theo slipped off his pants let the world admire his Pampers Baby-Dry for the night. There was no shortage of shenanigans from his friend where she urged him to wet himself to which he laughed while maintaining full control of his bladder. "Mom picked me up on her shoulder," Riley recounted gesturing toward the ceiling, "we moved to the hall and she laid me down there like I was a baby. Then she tried to take my diaper off, stopped when I told her I had more in my room." "What did she do then?" asked Theo, brushing his diaper. "She went to the garage to talk to my father. They came back together and changed it for me," she replied. "I couldn't believe it: mom and dad changing my diaper at age 11! The next day we discussed this, they set rules for me; I went to the supermarket with my mother and she bought me pull-ups for children who have to learn to use the toilet. They may be small, but boy are they very stretchy!" Theo listened fascinated, at one point asking, "How are the pull-ups?" Riley giggled happily. "Beautiful, it's like you're wearing underwear and a diaper at the same time!" Their conversation went on until six o'clock, the time when Greg, Riley's father, came to pick her up. She said goodbye to her friend and her father, then they walked to the car. When she returned, her mother Helen accompanied her to the bathroom to give her the pre-announced checkup. She pulled down her pants and looked down at her daughter's smelly and still wet panties. "What happened?" he questioned her. Riley explained everything to her, in full detail, the moment she discovered her friend's night diapers and also about the two drops of pee that fell into both her underwear. She blushed with shame. "Next time, sit and watch, don't stand and pee your pants," she admonished her, removing her soiled underwear, then helped her clean herself. At dinner, Riley monopolized the conversation. It was one of the few times the little girl talked so much she almost forgot about the plate of spaghetti on her plate. Her parents listened without ever interrupting her, surprised to find that her best friend - so their little daughter had twice declared - was peeing the bed. Having finished the meal and cleared the table, everyone went to their respective rooms, or almost since Helen forced Riley to follow her to the bathroom for the second time all day. The 11-year-old repeated the same instructions her mother had given her the day before with some uncertainty, did a fair amount of work that her mother completed. After that she gave her the report, "You need to pay more attention, Riley! You cleaned yourself up like you were late for something!" The little girl nodded and yawned; she couldn't take it anymore already. She brushed her teeth and went to her room, she definitely wanted to end this heavy day with a good night's sleep. She threw herself on her bed, at that moment someone knocked. "Come in!" It was her mother, she wanted to talk. He crossed the door and went to sit on one side of his bed. She admitted in a feeble voice, "I need to tell you something." "What is it, Mom?" asked the little girl as she sat down. "Your father and I have discussed it and decided on your punishment: for the rest of the week, you will not wear diapers. Starting next Monday, you can wear them, provided-" "As long as you or Dad are there to put them on me," Riley concluded in a saccharine voice, the tone her mother hated most of all. "I know Mom, I've learned my lesson." Helen did not get angry at her tone of voice; she preferred to let it go and go to bed. Like her daughter, she too wanted to sleep. She wished her a good night and headed to her room. * The diaper-free weekend arrived and passed in a second. Riley spent those forty-eight hours with her parents tidying up the house, that is, tidying up the attic. None of them would have expected that tidying it up would take two days, evenings included. It was Helen who had suggested this activity; staying still, lazing on the couch in the living room waiting to do something stimulating was bringing her a nervous breakdown. Greg, too, was trying not to sit idle; he took to reading a computer book in the kitchen, next to Riley who was studying the ticking of the clock in a bored manner. The third floor had been labeled "the oblivion," the place where everything that had ceased to have a definite use ends up. It was his parents who had given him that name, following an argument they had had that ended in a rather ambiguous way: suddenly, they forgot what they were arguing about. The entire room was chock-full of furniture and boxes with no writing to identify their contents. "Why did they have all that furniture?" wondered Riley, knowing that that question would not pull her away from that barbaric task. They set a goal for themselves: take everything downstairs. Helen and Greg would take care of the furniture, while Riley would take care of the boxes. All three lost track of time; they had started at 1 p.m. and stopped at 9 p.m. Her parents sprawled on the couch, surrounded by the twelve pieces of furniture they brought down several hours earlier. Riley took advantage of this and poked around the partially empty room, opened certain boxes and found old clothes and thirty-year-old china sets. What a bore! She passed between two tall pieces of furniture, perhaps two closets, and came across a long chest of drawers. Six rectangular-shaped drawers divided into two columns, it looked familiar. Then she realized what it was: it was the piece of furniture her parents used as a base for her changing table when she was an infant. I want this one in my room! I'm rehiring you indefinitely! The next morning, Riley proposed to her parents, who were zombies trying to return to the world of the living, but with little result. "Would you like to what?" her mother asked, yawning. "I found the old cabinet you used to use as a changing table," said the excited little girl. "It's big enough for me to lay on it, so changing me would no longer be an endless search." "Why ... are we taking so long to change you?" asked Greg, then took a sip of water. Riley gave him an obvious look. "Dad, do I need to remind you that for you lost my diapers by leaving me lying on the bed with everything in view?" She blushed on that last part. Greg yawned, but preferred not to answer. "Having a dedicated diaper corner would be nice," Helen intervened. "I already have the arrangement in mind for everything." Greg blinked three times. "So, should we move that to your room?" His tone was puzzled. "Yes," the little girl answered decisively, then put her hands together. "Please?" Greg sighed conflictedly, then smiled at his daughter. Through it all, Helen could not help but laugh. * In the early afternoon, a truck parked in front of their house. They were the workers from the secondhand furniture store to which Greg sold three cabinets and six drawers. Ten minutes of phone calls, emails with pictures of each piece of furniture attached, and a thousand dollars earned. He was the happiest person since his daughter. They loaded the furniture, nodded, to say goodbye and thank him for choosing their store, to Greg and left without giving a glance to either Helen or Riley who had been present every moment of their brief stay. "Rude," Riley said promptly, until she was sure they had left their field of vision. And Helen agreed with her with a complicit smile. Then she added, "You'll meet some rude ones too, always behave yourself and you won't end up like them." "Become rough, fat men?" the 11-year-old asked incredulously. "But I'm a girl!" Greg burst out laughing. "There are rough women, too, honey," Helen told her with amusement. They spent the better part of Sunday afternoon moving furniture and organizing Riley's room. The little girl had the opportunity to place the furniture as she wanted. Her parents enjoyed following the directions. The cabinet - changing table - they placed behind the door. The closet next door, the bed and the desk remained in place. With this thinking work completed, Greg went out to run an errand. Riley was happy; her room had become even more beautiful. The latest arrival (or return?) was looking good, two of the six drawers had already been filled. The first with diapers and pull-ups, the second with underwear, lotion and wipes. It was not yet complete, missing the mat that made it a proper changing table. At six o'clock in the afternoon, Greg returned with something that made Riley happy beyond measure: the mat! All three of them went to put it in its place, on which occasion Riley asked her parents to try it out. Her father took her on his shoulder and laid her down as if he was, for real, about to put a diaper on her. It fit perfectly, was comfortable, and she could almost take a nap in it. "It's perfect!" exclaimed Riley. Her father put her down and hugged him along with her mother. "Thanks, guys!"

Market Research I’d been doing the occasional bit of Market Research for the past few years. It helped supplement my pension and the lady who owned the company was very nice keeping me in mind for several major studies and investigations. Hillary Crown Partnership was the name of her company and the lady herself was a nice middle-aged woman who looked after her clients very well. I’d been involved in some wonderful campaigns and had occasionally seen the result of those campaigns appear on TV advertising a few months or years later on. Of course it wasn’t all just reviewing brands for Supermarkets, or looking at what advert appeals to which section of the public, no, I’d been involved in political focus groups and assorted things I’d had to sign an NDA (None Disclosure Agreement) to even be considered for participation. Yes it was always very special when I got a call from Hillary and she might hint at the assignment, which was always tempting for me as I had precious little else going on in my life. My partner Sam died nine years ago and I had no family and very few friends, we’d lived a pretty cellular life that perhaps a hermit would have been proud of. Anyway, after his death and the opportunity to be involved in this Market Research business came along, I jumped at the chance to give me something, even just occasionally, to cling on to. * This one I’m about to undertake is another of those ‘secret’ campaigns where a NDA was required before I could even be considered. Hillary had said that it was aimed at the ‘over 65s’ and she thought I’d be an ideal contributor. Now, I’m actually 71 but I flatter myself I can get away with being in my late 50s, but I could just be fooling myself. However, one or two people have commented on the fact I don’t look my age and appear younger so if nothing else it’s boosted my ego. I put it down to never having children but who’s to say? Having said that, I do have an occasional heart flutter, the rheumatoid arthritis makes my knees ache on a wet day, my fingers lack too much manipulation so I now can only write in a spidery scrawl, I’m slightly incontinent (especially at night) and I’m on the verge of Type 2 diabetes, so, nothing to write home about. Oh, except, I still have a full head of hair. I had to fill in a questionnaire before the meeting but Hillary had insisted it was most important that our answers were as truthful as possible. It was mainly a sort of a walk down memory lane. Our favourite music, movie, holiday and various other memory related questions. They also asked us to make a short video of ‘a typical day’. I sent a very short one of me in my pyjamas getting up, making a pot of tea and telling whoever would be viewing it to rewind and play three more times and then I went back to bed. I thought it was fun (though unfortunately truer than I meant it to be) and hoped they’d get the gag. They did and I was accepted onto the research programme, although for what wasn’t disclosed except it was for the benefit of the elderly. Which I thought was a good planning strategy as that was an ever increasing number of the population. * There were twenty of us that congregated in Meeting Room 1 (the largest) at a hotel in town. Surprisingly, the people who greeted us were all quite young and had that well-groomed look that we of a certain age and disposition quite liked. Their attitude was both welcoming and friendly and there was tea, coffee and biscuits available throughout what was supposed to be a one hour ‘introductory event’. For our participation we’d receive a ‘thank you’ of £60 (about the going rate) but as the programme progressed, if you were still involved then more would be on offer. Just what the final amount might be was kept under wraps. I was amazed at the cross-section of us old age pensioners (OAP) that they’d gathered. Of course I didn’t know anyone but a few were already chatting to each other as if they’d known each other all their lives, whilst I sat quietly on the outskirts just watching the interaction. Ben, or so it said on his badge, which incidentally we were all wearing to identify ourselves, sidled up and asked if I was okay. “Fine, fine, just not used to so many old people all in one place.” I shrugged. “Not one for bingo then,” he joked. I gave him one of my wry and knowing grimaces and hoped he’d understand. Now this may sound silly, and maybe it is, but in my head I don’t feel like a seventy-one year old. Yes, even with all the accompanying aches and pains I just don’t see myself the age I am. Since Sam died I’ve let my mind wander and many times I’ve enjoyed being childish, watching kids TV programmes and I even bought myself a LEGO set, which I actually enjoy building up. Another, possibly sad fact is, since Sam died, I sleep with a three foot tall teddy bear which I call Sammy. I also wear protection because, as I’ve implied, I can be slightly incontinent. But enough about my proclivities, as soon as I’m with other oldies, and they’re talking about families and grand-kids, I feel weird because I’m not part of that ‘team’, I’m on the loners team and then that’s what makes me feel old. I can’t quite explain it but suddenly a gloom and inevitability of impending death surrounds me and I... well... it’s just a peculiar feeling. “Not one for social groups then?” Ben enquired with his practised professional gentle interrogation. “Not really, hate small talk and general jibber-jabber... sorry.” “No, no, we know this isn’t for everyone and to be honest, that’s the kind of feedback we’re after.” I looked at him suspiciously because I know from past research groups I’ve been involved with, that is just what they want – loads and loads of opinions and feedback. If you don’t talk or have an opinion you’re generally no use to them and you don’t get asked back. “Oh well, I’ll try and be forthcoming in my assessment of whatever it is your company is offering.” I smiled my usual non-committal smile and he just patted my shoulder and disappeared. Meanwhile, I went over, got myself a cup of tea and a couple of custard creams and wondered back to find a seat for the start of the meeting. * Ben, Sabrina, Asim, Angela and Cordulla where the five young people who were our leaders as, after we all introduced ourselves, we were broken up into groups of four with one of them keeping the research questions on track. Ben was in charge of my little group of two males and two females. I didn’t mind but wondered if, as I’m gay and there were quite a few ‘related’ questions, if I’d be inhibited from answering ‘honestly’. The questionnaire was the basis so we started easily enough - what sort of feelings did our favourite music, movie or memory evoke. We had a wide selection of tastes in music so wasn’t sure the research group would get much from that but the two ladies, Joan and Greta’s favourite movies were RomComs (I can’t remember the titles), the other chap’s was Ben Hur and mine was Home Alone. We all then looked to see the reaction of Ben (not Hur). He had that practised and understanding smile on his face, he wasn’t giving anything away. Anyway, that part was informal but then we went onto what were our feelings about getting old. The two old ladies said they didn’t mind as they had between them a family of ten children, ten grandchildren and two great grandchildren and it was they that kept them ‘young at heart’. The other guy, Douglas, who was seventy six, was a bit like me, less forth-coming but was also alone, although he’d been married to Hilda for over forty-four years and had three grown-up kids he rarely saw... them having moved to different parts of the country. He said in a less than candid moment he was just waiting for death as he hated being alone in his big house. When Ben asked if he’d ever thought about selling up and moving into sheltered housing he looked glum and said no - it was where his memories were. I heard the two ladies sigh at this revelation and, from the comments made; I could see they were determined to get a little group together to help support him. For me, I said that, as we lived a less than conventional life, Sam and I were used to being alone so, being alone now didn’t worry me. I’m not sure if they knew I was lying but there were nods and sighs from our little quintet. To be honest there’s many a night when I can let myself get so depressed the last thing I want is to wake up in the morning. Of course I do and, after changing if I’ve got a wet nappy to deal with, try and think of things to occupy myself, which often is little more than watching TV or listening to my collection of albums. Sometimes the music of my youth can get me quite excited at memories of past concerts and festivals I attended with mates or with Sam, but then I just wish he was still with me and I get all maudlin. Even as the others were talking I slipped back to memories I had of the two of us together. It wasn’t easy being a gay couple at the beginning of our relationship but thankfully it did get easier. Although we were not in the forefront of Gay Rights, we both contributed what we could. * We were in our mid-twenties when we met, Sam was older by a couple of years. I’d lived abroad for a few years and it was whilst there I realised how gay I was. There were quite a few ‘experimentations’ – some loving, some painful and some downright kinky (or so I thought in my naiveté) although now they just seem like a sort of ‘rites of passage’. After working for a couple of years straight from school, and being bored out of my mind, I went to join my brother who was a volunteer teacher in Africa. My idea was to spend a couple of weeks over Christmas with him and then hitch from where he was based down to Cape Town and possibly get a job on ship or yacht to take me to my next (unknown) destination. I wanted adventure and decided if I didn’t do it now, then I’d never do it. So resigned my job, checked my bank account and said farewell to mum and hoped for the best. I don’t suppose it’s something many people do these days, the world has got a lot more dangerous, but back then, it wasn’t so bad. As I said, I met quite a few people on my journey and fairly early on, in the back of a bar in Bulawayo, my naïve young cock was sucked by a forty-odd year-old farmer called Wilf who invited me back to stay overnight. Despite my doubt (and terror) about the prospect he was so insistent that after a few beers I accepted his offer. That night I lost my virginity... more than once if that’s possible. We were in the middle of nowhere, his house was nothing but a shack, so my screams as I was introduced to the ‘pleasures’ of anal went unheard... except possibly by some local wild animals, which if I remember correctly were also howling loudly as they had sex. Of course, the first time is rarely forgotten even if you’ve tried to bury it as deep as possible, it will still bounce back to haunt you. However, as I remembered that night yet another occasion came flooding back when I was in a different town and somehow I’d become the object of a local celebrity’s attention. That wasn’t as special as it sounds because the populous was so small, and where everyone knew everyone else (and their business) a new face was bound to attract attention. Now, although he was much older (mid to late fifties) I was flattered and as he was nice, polite and promised nothing untoward would happen (and I’d been hitch-hiking and living in a small pup-tent for a few weeks so was desperate for a hot bath) I took up his offer. Okay, so, despite having had a couple of ‘experiences’ on my hitch-hiking journey up to that point, I wouldn’t say I was an expert and still unbelievably unsophisticated. After a wonderful hot shower in his luxurious bathroom I returned to find he’d set out on the bed some fresh items of clothing for me to wear. He sat there beaming as he invited me over to join him and I was convinced he wanted my bum because of the eager smile I received as I arrived wearing only a towel. At that time in my life there were no love handles or anything but soft to firm young muscles but even softer skin. As a naïve, five foot eight and ‘cute’ twenty year old, with flowing curly blond hair and ‘lovely green eyes’ (said to me by a girl who was desperate to get into this then eighteen year old’s pants) there was an innocence to me that others found very attractive. However, he patted the bed next to him and invited me to lie out on a soft foam pad that was there. It had cute little characters and was plainly something for a baby or toddler and had some white cotton material draped over it. The thing is, and I’m sorry if you think I lacked any gumption at all, but I felt I owed him something for offering me a place to stay for a couple of days (which is what he suggested) so thought “Why not”? Astonishingly, he flipped the towel away and poured oil onto my crotch and gently rubbed it in. Then shook baby powder all over the same area and put me in pre-prepared folds of material, which he pulled up between my legs and fastened into place. Now I was stunned because I had reacted, well my dick had, to his gentle caress but was struck dumb and wasn’t sure what to do as he rubbed my hardening cock through the fabric... though only for a few seconds. “I’m glad you’re enjoying this.” He smiled as he gently made sure the material fitted around me perfectly. I wasn’t but my cock didn’t know that and I just didn’t know what to do. I was wearing a thick white terry fabric nappy and he was cooing at me as if I was a little baby. I lay there mortified... that is until he blew a huge raspberry on my powdered tummy and that set me off giggling. After that he had me parading around his home wearing just the nappy, which he said brought back happy memories for him. He never explained what those memories were. Now, the outcome of this encounter was that I ended up staying with him for a week and the only stipulation was that I wore a nappy the entire time. As it was hot most of the time I wore shorts, which he liked as they were quite short (as was the fashion at the time), so I wasn’t fooling anyone if I’d try to deny anything... the bulge and the obvious fabric occasionally on show below my shorts leg giving the game away. Thankfully, no one made much in the way of nasty comments and I did get quite a number of similar offers from gentlemen of a certain age. I suppose I looked cute, perhaps even stunning and for some unknown reason didn’t actually mind the attention. His house was fantastic, he treated me with kindness and understanding and when we were alone and not meeting his very influential friends, who all seemed to know the deal; even if I pretended I didn’t, he never once suggested or instigated having sex. Kenneth was his name and although there was no sex there were plenty of hugs. He just loved patting the thick padding and hugging me tightly and say stuff like “Oh Gordy, sweetness, you don’t know just what you’re doing for me.” He just wanted a ‘boy’ he could look after and I quickly found, curling up in his arms on a night, watching TV and sucking juice or milk from a bottle quite a lovely experience. He liked me to wet my padding though wasn’t keen on any messing, although at one point did say that if I wanted to he wouldn’t mind. The thought of walking around anywhere with a full nappy I thought was quite disgusting so avoided that as much as possible. Except, one morning (the night before we’d had a very hot curry and I hadn’t taken to it) I didn’t get to the toilet in time and between the bedroom and the bathroom, my bowel decided it needed urgent emptying. I was very embarrassed though he took it in his stride and had me cleaned up and in another nappy with what seemed like practised ease. As a child you don’t necessarily remember the times mummy or daddy or someone changes your messy nappy but at twenty it certainly left an impression. At the time I kept telling myself how wrong this was but back then I was a ‘people pleaser’ and often put other’s needs before my own. I thought he was a strange and pervy bastard when I recounted this story to anyone else, but in truth, he was as gentle and as loving as anyone I’d ever known. Certainly compared to that painful first night in Bulawayo... I was still feeling sore a good week after I hitch-hiked out of that town. Anyway, when I returned back to the UK, I nervously called in at the town’s only gay pub and saw Sam in the middle of a group of guys and they were laughing and joking... * With that memory I welled-up but tried to hide it from the others in our small focus group. That image of my young and handsome boyfriend, later, many years later, to become my Civil Partner, holding the entire group in hilarious rapture as he told one of his many, many amusing anecdotes to me he was like a beacon. I may have had some experience of reacting to people but I’d never felt such a rush of emotion as I watched him time and time again reduce his audience into fits of laughter. He saw me sitting alone and came over and dragged me protesting into that group. Up until then it was the best night of my life. After a few weeks of seeing him in the pub I eventually dared ask him out to a party that one of the lads was holding. He agreed and when we arrived at the student’s hall of residence where it was being held, and at the specified time, we were the first ones there. Under a fairly inactive glitter-ball we stole our first nervous kiss and, after another fifteen minutes when still no one else arrived he suggested we go back to his place and have a party of our own. That night was the next best night ever. He taught me not to rush things, I taught him... “And what about you Gordon?” I came out of my reflections to see Ben and the other’s looking at me and waiting on my reply. I had no idea what the question had been. “Sorry, sorry, just, erm... you know...uuummm...” “That’s alright Gordon we know that we’re dragging up memories and sometimes they are more important than what we’re talking about.” He nodded as if he understood so I nodded back and gave my full attention. * Later, when the hour was up and Ben was thanking everyone for their attendance, just as I was about to shuffle out he asked me to stay behind for a moment as there was something he wanted to ask about on my questionnaire. The two ladies had taken to Doug and as they exited looked back at me with warm smiles and said they hoped they’d answered all the questions correctly and added to the research. Ben was full of praise for their contributions. “Okay, Gordon, I’m sure this isn’t what you might have imagined.” He looked a bit nervous as he spoke, “But we’d like you to go on to the next round of interviews... if you’d like to of course.” “Well, to be honest, I’m not sure what you gleaned from what you’ve just heard. I mean there were no products discussed, no advertising campaign, no....” “You’re correct of course,” he interrupted, “but we are planning something which we hope will be for the benefit of some members of the elderly... but we need people like you to help.” He touched my arm as if he was imploring me to continue. “Of course, there is an extra bonus if you do continue AND, if you complete the course, you will be one of the first to benefit from our programme. “What’s the programme?” “Ah, that’s just the trouble... I can’t tell you just yet but I can promise you this... it is revolutionary.” “When would you want me to start?” “Well, if you’re doing nothing at the moment then we can start immediately.” He seemed excited to offer this option. It was true I had nothing else on and could quite happily sink another tea and a few biscuits but thought for a few moments longer before I agreed. “Oh, that’s fantastic Gordon, you won’t regret this.” Ben seemed relieved. He pointed to another room further down the hall and there were just one other person sat at the table with a menu.” “What’s all this?” I enquired. “Well, I thought we might all get to know you and Elsie here a little better over lunch. What do you say?” “Are there no others joining us?” “Let’s just say, at the moment, you two are the only ones who made it to take part in the next phase.” I suppose they wanted us to feel we were special and I saw Elsie straighten her back and wiggled demurely as if to prove that they were correct in their assumption. Yes indeed, Elsie knew she was special. So eighteen down and it was just us two but we still had no idea what on Earth we were selected for. The only thing they kept insisting is that it was for the benefit of the elderly and that we’d proved, by our open answers so far, to be the type of people they would need for this to progress any further. So, although it appeared to make little sense I was happy to get a free lunch anytime so happily sat down and perused the proffered menu. I thought I might struggle with the steak so settled on Salmon – lime and coriander coated crumbs in a light soy sauce - or some such thing. I thought I was going to enjoy the next stage if they were going to feed us so royally. The five of them, and the two of us sat around the table and they seemed happy to let us reminisce as much as we liked “After all,” they reminded us, “this was what the programme was all about.” However, we still had no idea what that was... though lunch was superb. ** tbc

The Train Journey The young man boarded the train; it was only to journey to the next town, which would, with occasional station stops, take a little less than half an hour. All the seats were taken apart from one opposite a much older man but, as it was also a window seat, he took it before his chance to sit for the entire trip was taken by another passenger. He smoothly glided into his seat and caught the eye of his fellow passenger who nodded politely with the trace of a smile. They sat for a while until they both heard the whistle blow and the train slowly begin to leave the station. The older man smiled and nodded in acknowledgement to his follow traveller as it stuttered to a start and then slowly began to roll away from the platform. He’d noticed as the lad (for in his aged eyes that’s really what the young man looked like), the slight rustling sound as he sat down and the smooth bulky shape to his bum and crotch. The older man knew immediately that the nice young person opposite was wearing padding. The young man had brought nothing with him, not even ear-buds, to while away the time so interested himself in the view as the outside passed by. This gave the older man a little more time to scrutinise his much younger tripper. He noticed that the young man (boy in his book) looked, at a push, to be in his early twenties. His facial hair was bitty and not very consequential and spoiled an otherwise cute, blemish-free face. His hair was an untidy mop but suited him and had small hands with well-manicured fingers. He didn’t look particularly sporty, but that could have been because of the loose green fleece he was wearing, though his pale brown chinos tightened as he sat in place and displayed the sweet bulge at his padded crotch. A smile danced in the older man’s head as he began to think of starting a conversation with his journeyman (boy). He thought he’d be direct and hope for the best. “Excuse me young man,” the older man tried to get the lad’s attention. It took a couple of whispered starts before acknowledging he was being spoken to. His mother hadn’t brought him up to be an ignoramus or blank the older generation but he really just wanted his own thoughts for the journey. He was already out of his comfort zone wearing what he was wearing and although he was enjoying the feeling and his own bravery of being out and about in public, he was still a little apprehensive about the entire trip. This was his first time dressed as he was and it had taken a great deal of soul-searching and several attempts before he’d been brave enough to slip into something he’d wanted to do for ages. A new store was having its grand opening in the next town over and was offering a ‘special edition’ t-shirt to the first one hundred customers. It wasn’t that he was obsessed with t-shirts but had used the excuse to exit the house so his parents didn’t see what he was wearing, just in case they noticed something different. His nerves had been jangling from the moment he’d got up and decided that this was going to be the day. The pack of disposables he’d purchased online had arrived over a month ago but had still been too scared to wear them but... today was that day. Taping himself into the plasticky padding and feeling the warm hug as they’d tightened the material around him had been both wonderful but terrifying in case of discovery. He was lucky, no one saw, and to make sure no one did he wanted to exit the house as quickly as possible, sure that once he was away from his parents surveillance no one else would be aware. Anyway he was wearing what he was wearing now and was safely on his way to another town where no one knew him. He’d loved the feeling as he’d walked to the station and had enjoyed the sweet rustling sound that accompanied each stride. The full feeling between his legs had comforted him but still, anxiety was in his head and he hoped not to have to speak with anyone. But he was here now and wriggled a little uneasily as the man spoke. “Yes, hello, but tell me... do you wear a nappy for medical reasons or for fun?” The older man had spoken low but he hadn’t misheard him and blood rushed to his face. “I, errr, ummm...” Oh God, Oh God, Oh God - the young man thought but dare not speak. This was a mistake, he knew it would be and... The older man could see the lad had flushed bright crimson under his ‘innocent’ question. He also noticed him look around, maybe to try and find a way of escape or was he merely making sure no one else had heard the question. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to embarrass you... well... not much, “ the older man whispered his tease, “but I certainly wouldn’t want my little boy to be out on his own, he’d be under constant supervision from mummy or daddy.” The young man felt trapped. Caught like a deer in headlights he just couldn’t move. The older man had cut straight to the bone and knew... but how? “Don’t worry, the people around us aren’t listening or I would suspect be that bothered... surprisingly, people aren’t usually bothered but some little boys do get a little bit agitated when their secret is uncovered. I wouldn’t let that happen to my little boy that’s for sure.” The redness in the boy’s cheeks was beginning to fade although his breathing was a bit tight. “I just want to say I think it’s wonderful for a boy your age to venture out in your lovely padding.” He saw the boy swallow hard but still didn’t speak. “What is your favoured brand of nappy - fabric or disposable?” The boy wriggled uneasily. “I love to see any little one in lovely thick and colourful disposables like REARZ or CUDDLZ... you know the ones with all the little characters charging around; makes them look both cute and juvenile, which of course is exactly how it should be.” The older man seemed really at ease talking of such things. Despite this not only being a one way and awkward conversation the boy wondered how the man knew he was wearing a thick disposable with little baby bears wearing nappies frolicking around it. However, the man had more to say. “Do you wear plastic pants over them? I mean, personally I think it’s a very sensible precaution to take as you never know when the little one needs that little bit of extra help with leaks.” The older man chuckled slightly, “Yes slipping daddy’s, or mummy’s, little baby into his fresh morning nappy and pulling a nice bright and shiny slippery pair of vinyl pants over for added security would be a must.” By now the young man was caught up in what the older man was saying and although full of anxiety he was being held spellbound by what was being said. “I think a baby should be loved and looked after and that’s a twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week job. Their sweet little body should be kept smooth and hair-free and a nice big paci should always be available for when the little one frets or needs calming. Like now, with you.” He smiled a knowing smile. “Yes, it would be a privilege to keep the little one all clean and tidy, happily engaged in play and... well... let’s take this journey for instance.” He saw the boy opposite shimmy in his seat a little as if he was relaxing... even if only slightly. “Now a little boy of mine would have a big colouring book and some crayons to help pass the time as we travel to our destination. Seeing him sucking on his paci as he concentrated on making sure his crayons kept inside the guidelines... that would be a wonderful sight.” The boy was really quite stunned by the way this unexpected conversation was going and oddly enough he felt his boyhood begin to grow in the folds of his colourful disposable. He tried to inconspicuously wriggle to release it owing to being trapped and sticking down as it tried to rise up. However, there was no doubt about it, the old man seemed to know exactly what he’d dreamed of for some time now. “Of course,” a wrinkled smile caused his eyes to twinkle, “night time and any little baby should be wrapped in the comforting hug of a lovely thick and fleecy fabric nappy; one that soaks up and holds any and all of the little cuties night time accidents. However, that should all follow a lovely warm and comforting bubble bath where the little one could play with his toys and let mummy or daddy bathe and sponge him all nice and clean.” The boy opposite felt a throb behind his nappy. “Once all lovingly rubbed down in a lovely thick towel they’d be smothered in lotion and have their special baby parts all nicely powdered before being dressed for nice long sleepy-byes. Everything would be kept in place by a colourful onesie that fastens between their legs to hold the nappy firmly up and snugly against the sweet little thing.” About this time, as the train pulled into one of the local urban stations, the boy wished he had a paci. It was true he’d thought about getting one but was scared that his parents might find it and... well... he had the same fear about buying the disposable he was now wearing and that step had taken both a great deal of time and worry. But the man was still talking as folk got off and on the train, which then carried on to its next destination. “So then... plastic pants?” The man asked whilst nodding in the direction of the boy’s crotch. The young man sorrowfully shook his head “no” as if he felt guilty by such neglect. He still couldn’t speak but nor could he run away because this conversation had stirred up so many thoughts in his head... and crotch. He needed to relieve the pressure, and pain, his growing but scrunched-up penis was causing. He knew he was leaking and as such was grateful to his decision to wear padding but it was now getting awkward and uncomfortable in that area. “You seem a little uncomfortable...” it was as if the old man could read his mind, “please don’t be afraid of getting things rearranged... no boy should be uncomfortable when wearing his favourite nappy.” The boy looked around to see if there was anyone staring in their direction, thankfully, the coast was clear and was able to do a quick manipulation. What a relief - but now the curvy front bulge under his brown chinos was even more pronounced by the released stiff penis. “That’s what a lovely cosy nappy will do to a boy if he’s not under constant supervision.” He leant in closer to confide in the lad. “Sometimes, a boy needs to be protected from himself and a nice thick and tightly wrapped nappy, encased in thick rubber pants and wearing a sweet pair of restrictive mittens will keep him from being too grown up when all that self-touching is so unnecessary.” With the release of his bunched up penis he hadn’t realised his bladder was also calling for relief and he shot a stream of warm pee straight into the folds of his disposable. He tried to keep the look from his face but was unable to stop the flow, which of course the man opposite noticed. “Now, that should be under a daddy or mummy’s control. A little baby needs their protection, love and control to make sure they stay the sweet little thing they want to be. Maybe, what some boys and girls need is restricted access and firm control... maybe a bottom needs a spanking first to achieve this.” The older man looked him straight in the eye as if challenging the boy whose features unfortunately gave the game away. He saw the boy physically shake and knew that he’d just spurted a milky load into the front of his newly soaked nappy. The older man sat back and let the boy recuperate as the train began to slow down on its approach to yet another small urban station. “Well thank you young man for a most enjoyable chat. You’ve made this regular but boring journey special.” He got up and smiled his thanks then departed the scene. His seat was quickly taken by someone else, a lady in her fifties. Meanwhile, the boy still had another stop to go before he completed his journey, although in many ways, he already had. ####

Love being loved I’d been tossing and turning since I’d come to bed. I don’t know why I couldn’t relax or get comfortable maybe because the bedding just seemed so heavy and bulky. No matter which way I turned, or pushed my bedding off, it just didn’t seem right. I’d come to bed just after 11pm, put on my tartan flannel boxer shorts, even tuned my bedside gizmo to play some tranquil sounds and slipped quickly into a peaceful sleep. However, I woke up with a start just after midnight. I had no idea what caused it but was wide awake, which was strange as I’d been yawning all day and desperate for a good night’s sleep. Once my brain starts to connect onto a thought I find it very difficult to shake off. The problem was I was thinking ‘I’m tired so why can’t I get to sleep?’ and that conundrum kept me awake. The gizmo was still pumping out ethereal music but the fidgeting and squirming continued for over an hour as my brain just wouldn’t let go of some inconsequential thought. Lettuce! Yes, lettuce. I don’t even like the stuff but yet this green salad was keeping me awake with thoughts of how much water it contained. WHAT THE HELL? Eventually, I slipped into a troubled sleep but again, it didn’t feel like sleep. It was as if I was drowsing when I should have been awake and what was worse I started to burp and fart every time I moved position. Surely thinking about lettuce can’t produce symptoms can it? My stomach felt bloated like it was holding in a giant uncomfortable balloon and was letting little gasps of air out trying to relieve the situation. Fart, burp – burp, fartttt... the farts got longer but still my stomach remained full of air however, there was no smell so assumed it was all just trapped wind. I slipped into another fitful sleep but awoke with a start. A cucumber had entered my dream-world and that had started to enter me. With my mouth wide open in surprise I could feel a sense of amazement that began as a slight irritated tickle as a prelude to a sneeze. I couldn’t stifle it down and let out a loud sudden “Aasshhooo”. At the same moment I knew the fart I’d just let rip in conjunction with it had been more than the passing of air and my bladder also got in on the act. I lay there for a second or two trying to take in the momentousness of this triple action but it was too late. I could feel the lump in my boxers and I couldn’t stop piss soaking into the flimsy cotton. Eventually I had to do something and tried to spur myself into action and sidle out from my bed. I had one hand clutching my bum, hoping to hold the contents in, and the other trying desperately to extricate myself from being tangled in the bedding. One-handedly, it was taking quite a bit of time and effort... and panic wasn’t helping the situation. The clock flashed 02:46 as I finally found my feet and made my way to the bathroom. I slid down those messy boxers and threw them into the bath and immediately sat on the toilet and made sure I emptied myself. The noise and smell was not conducive to sleep though my stomach felt relief whilst filling the bowl. After a few minutes I felt I was done. I flushed then looked to the debris which were my boxers and gave them a temporary wash through. Standing naked at the sink I could feel eyes on me. # “Oh baby,” It was Daddy. “I don’t think you were quite ready for big boy responsibilities were you?” The independence I thought was so close to what I wanted had disappeared in the mess I’d made and the grown up thoughts I imagined taking their place faded as I stood naked and shaking under Daddy’s watchful eye. The feeling of guilt and stupidity engulfed me and I could do nothing but sadly shake my head “No Daddy... ermmm... sowwy”. My shame caught in my apology and I felt a tear slip from the corner of my eye. “Not to worry sweetheart, take a nice long shower... and your bums covered in poo so pay specific attention to that area... and I’ll sort stuff out.” I nodded that I would. I still had my back turned to him because of the tears and didn’t want him to see how upset the event had made me. It was bad enough that I’d made such a mess and dreaded to think what he’d discover when entering my room. However, at that moment I was just too overcome to give that much thought as I needed to do as Daddy said, and take a shower to clean myself up. I stood under the warm jets and let the water take some of the guilt away. I saw messy brown blobs slip down the plug hole and wondered if I should have wiped myself better. God, I can’t do anything right. I’m just a silly little baby who needs his Daddy. # When I’d finished I grabbed a towel and made my way back to the bedroom. All the bedding had been removed and my little bed just had the clear plastic cover it had had since the mattress had been bought. It was a safety barrier I was glad had never been removed. Needless to say other than the bedding my room hadn’t changed. The rails around the bed, which for some time now I hadn’t needed raising as I felt safe enough without them, I knew would be back in force next bed time. The posters of Disney characters and kids TV shows I had on the walls, and that I hoped with my new found independence (being a big boy) were going to be changed for something more ‘adult’, were still welcoming. My open closet revealed the clothes daddy preferred me to wear; shorts, onesies, dungarees and other joyfully colourful items beckoned and I knew that my days of being a big boy were over much before they started. I’d made a mess in Daddy’s boxer shorts; I was just a silly little kid who didn’t know what was best for him. Luckily I had a Daddy who did. As I patted myself dry Daddy entered the room carrying a bundle of stuff. He looked, as he always did like a man in charge. Hunky, broad, muscular, tall and wearing similar boxers to the ones I’d been wearing (after all they had been a pair of his). His hairy chest and short hair making him appear like someone who should be on TV advertising shampoo or fixing a bit of machinery... well, some such item. Daddy was all man. “OK baby, let’s get you organised shall we?” It wasn’t really a question as he spread out the stuff on my changing table and indicated to lie out. “Sowwy Daddy,” I said sheepishly. He just shushed me with a smile as if to say don’t worry, everything is OK. First he took a small towel and wiped the area making sure that every crevice was dry and then rubbed in some cream. I looked up at Daddy to see if he was angry but he just continued to smile and gently shushed me again as I tried to say something. “All in good time sweetie, first let’s get you ready, eh?” Next came a shower of talc, I just loved the lavender smell as he smoothed that in. He unfurled a terry-cotton square, folded it into a triangle, added a thick extra soaker pad and nappy liner “Upsies” he said and slipped it under my bum. He was very adept at this and swiftly followed through with some pins to fasten it all together... I hardly had time to draw breath. “Upsies again sweetie,” he smiled and slid a pair of pink plastic pants up and over the bulky nappy. “Nearly there baby.” He then shook out a pink onesie and pulled it over my head. It shimmied down my body so was able to fasten the little studs between my legs. “One last thing,” he pinned a binkie to it and then slipped the silicon bulb between my lips. “There we go all ready for a proper night’s bo-bos now.” He guided me into his room and drew back the covers. “In you go sweetheart, Daddy thinks it’s best if you’re with him for the rest of the night.” I crawled into bed, the onesie hugging the nappy close and the binkie soothing my anxieties. He slipped in behind and nuzzled the short hair on the back of my head. “Daddy loves his sweet baby so don’t be upset... you’ve done nothing wrong and Daddy’s proud of his sweet little dumpling.” His strong arms encircled me and pulled me in close. It was what I needed. I was hugged and happy so drifted off almost immediately but not before Daddy gave me ‘butterfly kisses’ on the back of my neck and repeated how much he loved me. I loved it so wriggled and crinkled in contentment “I wuv o oo babby,” was all I could muffle out from behind the binkie. “OK sweetheart, straight to sleep now. Daddy’s here to protect you from any nasty dreams so you just relax and...” The soothing sucking action made sure I was asleep before he finished. #tbc#

Hi there staying in Hilton Metropole in Brighton from 7-14 July. Really would love to meet fellow nappy lovers for mutual changes and fun

Chapter One: The Drive Dad drove down the highway with meholding my hand between my legs. I had to pee and being stuck in a car definitely didn't help. A sign up ahead said that a rest area was only ten kilometres up ahead and I could certainly hold it. I could ask for my father to stop yet there was somethig else. “Something wrong?" Dad suddenly asked without looking at me. “Weird,” I replied. “ Dam weird you know.” He certainly did know why I felt weird. This was his plan. “I'm wearing an adult nappy,” I groaned. “You better be, Vicky,” Dad replied. “You don't want to be found out as a faker and lose this scholarship.” “Yeah,” I said. “That's the problem; I'm not really incontinent. They are going to find out.” “No, they won't. Just act natural. Show the letter I faked again.” I rubbed the padded material between my legs .“This is certainly not natural," I protested. “Well, get used to wetting yourself often,” he said. “You probably should show up in a really wet nappy. That way you won't look like a faker to the other girls who are used to wetting their nappies.” “Why did I let you talk me into this?” I whined. “You got a scholarship. The bank lost most my money, remember? This is your last chance to go to university,” he answered. I sighed. I don't understand how things got so weird. My father put away enough into my university fund to pay for all years of school. HMRC investigated my father recently and caught him for insider trading and fined him heavily and he eventually used up my university fund to pay for the fine. It was the summer before the start of uni and I had no money. So I search for scholarships. None fit me but after intesive search there was also a scholarship for only urinary incontinent girls who were studying any subject at my chosen university. Unlike the others, it was not listed on the university's website but on a discreet form for disabled students. It was the only scholarship and it was generous. It paid for everything including a monthly allowance. I remember distinctively getting the phone call. “Is Victoria Stevens there?” the woman asked. “Yes, this is she,” I gripped my mobile tightly. “This is Elizabeth Jones from the Urinary Incontinent Girls scholarship programme. You have been chosen.” My mouth was opened in shock. I had though my university dreams were over. “The last girl didn't meet our requirements. She was clearly bluffing her urinary incontinence just to get the scholarship while your doctor's letter appears genuine. I made this scholarship so incontinent girls can have the full university experience, including living in the halls. To do that we want to make sure that we pair you with another girl in the hall that is also incontinent for moral support. You will still have your own room Will this be a problem for you?” “No problem,” I replied, elated. “Good. We are having a summer camp to get to know the other girls. Attendance is mandatory.” I didn't tell the rest of my wider family. Dad thought it was perfect and had been a big help in getting me loads of adult nappies. They do sell nappies in stores like Boots, but the tape-o kind that real incontinent people wear is only found online and he helped me order Tena Slip Maxis online. Back to the present, the road sign indicated we wear near the camp. Dad said an incontinent girl would show up in a very wet nappy. I relaxed in my seat and pretended I was sitting on the toilet. As I started to pee in my nappy, it was so warm as the wetness spread around my crotch and under my bottom. I was shocked at how good it actually felt. Chapter Two: Fitting in with the Group Dad pulled into the lot and right away I spotted the group. After giving me a kiss, I head to group which consisted of five teenaged girls and a young lady stood around the van. “Are you Vicky?” the lady who was clearly Liz Jones, asked me. She wore torn jeans and a T-shirt. There was a bulge around her butt area, most definitely indicated she was wearing a nappy definitely wet. I said yes and opened the back door of my car and got my bags when she stopped me. "May I see your doctor's letter again?" I unzipped one part of my main bag and handed it over. Hoping the forgery work, she quickly smiled and nodded. "Can you remove your skirt? I want to see if you're wearing and adult nappy and have used it." I slowly unclipped my skirt; I tried many jeans but the bulge of the nappy always showed as well as the top. I can't remember how much I peed in the nappy earlier but Liz came closer, walked around and was satisfied. “Good. You're the last girl to arrive, so let's get going. You can put your stuff in the back of the van.” The wet nappy I had on now felt thick and I felt that I could use a change now. “Do I have time to run to the look real quick?” I leaned closer to her. “I'm quite wet.” Was there a loo nearby? “Uh no, do you think we can hold yourself?” I nodded though not sure if the nappy could. “Good. Then we got to go.” She led me in through the sliding door of the van and I took a seat beside a bored-looking girl with a sarcastic nerd phrase on her shirt. She wore black cargo jeans with all kinds of metal hanging from them. She whispered, “So, what's your story?” Before I could answer, Liz hopped into the driver’s seat and started the van. “Girls,” she called out through a speaker. “My name, as you all came into contact with, is Elizabeth Jones but you can call me Liz. I am the scholarship coordinator and founder of the Scholarship for Incontinent Girls. When I studied physics, I was embarrassed about having to explain to my hallmates, coursemates and friends that I had an incontinence problem. I realized that another incontinent girl would make a good hallmate and thus this scholarship came about. This camp is for several reasons. Mainly so you can get to know each other and find out who you to be paired with for moral support. The other reason is, unfortunately, to screen out people who are liars. I had to replace one girl earlier on who was not incontinent.” Minutes later, Liz continued. “So, get to know each other during this week. How about introducing yourself to each other now as I drive to the camp.” “My name is Kerri Kensington," the girl next to me began. "I am long tired of being teased about my incontinence. Having a mother who is not so discrete about it means everyone at school and my neighbour knew about it. This scholarship sunds great. I worried so much about uni and having to hide my nappies from others but I feel think group will give me support. I am excited about studying electrical engineering.” The girl who sat beside Kerri also wearing jeans spoke up. “My name is Michelle.” Her voice was softer and didn't give her surname. “I don't really have friends due to incontinence and will be studying Art History.” In the rear seat, a girl spoke up. “I'm Vera Horton. I'm just as normal as anyone else, or I was until the car accident where some drunk ran into me. The drunk doesn't have to wear nappies and it's not fair. Instead, he only got thirty days in jail. I instead have to spend the rest of my life in nappies.” She pounded her fists on the seat beside her. “Because of this, my boyfriend took someone else to my Year 11 and Year 13 prom. Will be reading Chemistry.” “My name is Bethany,” said her neighbour who had just looked up from a book. She wore all black with tight leggings. Even her nail polish and lipstick were black. “People already though I was weird with my love for black, so knowing about my nappies really made things worse. Will take modern history." The fifth girl introduced herself as Cath never Catherine. She worn a shorter skirt than myself. "I'll study my favourite subject biology and don't nappies to destroy my uni life.” I cleared my throat. “I'm Vicky Stevens. Am urinary incontinent birth since and my promised uni fund went away, so I thought I couldn't go to uni. Will be taking mechanical engineering." I hope that worked. The silence told me they accepted it. Chapter Three: The Meal About noon, Liz stopped at a local pub. I really wanted a fresh nappy. “Okay. Here is the plan. Cath, Vicky, and Michelle will go into the bathroom and change. Vera Bethany, and Kerri and myself will order our food. When you three return we will go change while you order your food. Then we will eat together.” In the toilet stall, I removed my skirt and looked down at my wet nappy. It was really wet - I did wet it a second time. I peeled off the tapes, rolled up the soggy nappy, then wiped myself off with baby wipes. Once finished, I put on a new Tena Slip like I had practiced many times by leaning against the wall of the stall. Back at the counter, I ordered a medium coke and a burger.

Unfortunately I’ve creatively run out of ideas for my last story (Transatlantic Troubles) so I’ve abandoned that for now. However I really wanted to start something new but because I don’t have time to write a story with multiple chapters I’m instead going to write a series of mini-stories using the same characters. This series will revolve around 20 year old Charlie, who lives at home with his mum Sally. He’s been an ABDL for as long as he can remember and after a number of occasions where his mum has caught him in the act, he’s admitted his desires to Sally. Each story will be based around situations and events in Charlie’s ABDL journey. The Charlie Chronicles: Aunty’s House “Charlie has really been struggling at the moment. Dropping out of University seems to have made him even more anxious and reclusive as normal and it’s making me really sad to see him so down” Sally explained to her sister Emma over the phone. “I’ve tried to encourage him to meet up with his friends but he comes up with an excuse not to every time. He seems content with just sitting in his room playing on his Xbox all day”. “Aww that’s really sad, a 20 year old boy should be out making the most of the best years of his life instead of moping around in his room all day. You don’t think it’s got anything to do with your little chat you had with him a few weeks ago do you?” Emma responded, referring to the revelation that Charlie had some ‘strange’ fantasies. “Well I mean it’s a good chance it is. Gosh I really don’t know what to do with him”. Sally sighed. “I’ve actually been thinking about what you told me quite a bit. Have you ever thought about giving Charlie what he wants?” Emma asked. “What do you have in mind?” Sally inquisitively asked her sister… One week later Charlie had just finished a game of Fortnite, which he inevitably lost, and was making his way out of his bedroom and down to the kitchen, where his mum was sat on the dining room table working away on her laptop. “You alright honey?” Sally said looking at her son, who was making his way to the fridge. “Yep” Charlie half-heartedly responded. Charlie opened the fridge door looking for something to have for lunch, opting for a slice of leftover pizza. He had a long afternoon of video games and needed to stock up before starting. “You aren’t going to be playing on that Xbox all afternoon again are you?” Sally asked. “Well there’s nothing else to do is there?” Charlie said before making his way out of the room. “Charlie stop there, it’s nice outside why don’t you ask John or Chris if they want a kick-about or something?” Sally said as she grabbed Charlie’s arm to stop him leaving. “They’re busy”, that’s the best excuse Charlie could come up with on the spot. “Wow those two must be the busiest people in this town! Well if you aren’t going to make plans for yourself then I’ll do it for you. I was speaking to your aunty Emma last week and she really needs someone to clear out her spare bedroom and I’ve volunteered you to go to hers tomorrow and help” Sally explained to Charlie. “And I’m not going to take no for an answer, it’ll be good for you to get out of the house”. “But mum!” Charlie protested. “No arguing, I’ve told her you’ll be at hers at 9am tomorrow morning. And take a spare change of clothes because it could be all dirty and dusty moving the old furniture” Sally ordered. Charlie simply huffed and then went back up to his room, realising that he couldn’t really get out of the visit. The most of the afternoon and evening was spent playing Fornite and FIFA. After dinner he went back up to his room and stuck on Netflix in the background while browsing the latest stories of Daily Diapers, and after finding the right story he inevitably finished the evening by masturbating, imagining himself in the story. Since he outed himself to his mum about being an ABDL after being caught with a package of cheap incontinence pants for the third time, he tried to be as private as possible about continuing his fantasies but the idea of his mum knowing about it made him feel extremely embarrassed. The day of his visit to his Aunty’s had arrived and Charlie was woken up by Sally, who brought him a cup of tea. She told him she was going to work and reminded him of the arrangements for the day. After half an hour or so of scrolling TikToks, he finished his tea and headed to the shower. After drying himself he headed back into his bedroom and got dressed, first picking out a pair of light blue briefs. The reason he wore briefs over boxers was that they were more comfortable to wear when wearing sports, or at least that was the reason he gave to his mum. In reality he wore briefs because it made him feel more childish. After picking out a light grey Hype tracksuit and some spare Nike joggers and jumper, he got himself ready and headed out the door. His Aunty’s house was only a 20 minute walk from his house and the weather was pretty mild so there was no need to get the bus. As he walked down the street on the outskirts of the town centre he looked across the road to see a younger mother pushing a buggy with a toddler riding inside. He noticed that the toddler wasn’t wearing any shorts of trousers and a pampers nappy was fully exposed, and this instantly made Charlie extremely jealous. ‘If only that was me’ he daydreamed. It wasn’t long before Charlie was at the door of the small semi-detached house in a quiet urban street. As he knocked the door he was his Aunty walk towards him through the semi-transparent glass to the right of the door. The door swung open. “Hey Charlie it’s so nice to see you!” Emma squeaked as she pulled Charlie into a warm embrace. “Hi Aunty Emma” Charlie said as she squeezed him to the point of suffocation. “You look great how are things” Emma asked as she pushed him away from her and ruffled his curly mop. “Let’s go inside and have a catch up”. Emma led Charlie through the doorway and straight into the living room. Emma was divorced and lived alone, although she often had guests and therefore the living room was decorated in a very neutral theme. She told him to take a seat on the big beige leather sofa. “You make yourself comfortable and I’ll make us a cup of tea” Emma said as she left him and headed to the kitchen. Charlie simply sat there politely looking around the room. He noticed a plastic storage box in the corner which seemed out of place but didn’t think anything more of it. “Here you go” Emma said as she handed him a mug of tea. “Thanks” Charlie responded. “So how are things? How is the job search going?” Emma enquired. “Yeah I’m fine thank you, no luck as of yet but I’m still looking!” Charlie said rather unenthusiastically. The search of a job had completely come to a halt truth be told. “I’m sure you’ll find one sooner or later. Your mum told me you’ve felt a bit down recently are you sure everything is alright?” Emma asked. Charlie begun to think this was a bit of interrogation. “Umm not really I’m fine, don’t know why she’s say that” he responded defensively. Emma got up off the armchair and sat right next to Charlie, placing her hand his. “You know Charlie, don’t be scared but your mum told me about your little confession. About wanting to be a baby again?” she said rather apprehensively. Charlie froze in his spot, feeling betrayed at his mum breaking her vow not to tell anyone about his ABDL tendencies. “Www… what?” he said as tears began to form in his eyes. “Oh no no no Charlie don’t be scared it’s okay. I’m not judging you, in fact I want to help” Emma explained as she rubbed his hand. “To tell you the truth I don’t actually need my spare bedroom clearing out, me and your mum think you need some time to do what you want” she said, alluding to his secret desires. “What I’m trying to get at is we’d both like you to explore your fantasies a bit more. We’ve even got you all the supplies and they are ready upstairs”. “I, I don’t understand” Charlie quietly said, hardly being able to say anything in shock. “Charlie I’m going to help you live out your fantasy, you’re free to act like a baby all day and I’m going to look after you. I did used to work in a nursery after all?” Emma said as she smiled at him. A million thoughts went through his mind. Charlie was shocked that his mother had gone behind his back and told someone else about his confession, but also felt like this was too good an opportunity to turn down. He had always been pretty close to his Aunty and she was the type of person who is willing to give anything a go. He really had to think about his response. “Ummm I’m not really sure I’m comfortable with this? I’ve never done anything with anyone before” Charlie said sheepishly as he sipped his tea. “Don’t be scared, I’ll guide you through all of it and I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do” Emma reassured him. “What do you say, do you want to be my baby for the day?”. Charlie hesitated a few seconds before answering. His heart was beating so fast he could hardly breath. Was this really happening? He was on the cusp of fulfilling his deepest fantasy, how could he turn this down. “Okay, but please promise me you won’t tell anyone” Charlie insisted. “Of course sweety, it’ll be our secret. Come here” Sally said as she opened up her arms for a hug. Charlie obliged and they embraced again. He felt a warm feeling as she stroked the back of his head lovingly. “Come on let’s go upstairs and get started” Emma said as she stood up and held his hand, leading him out of the living room. As they both climbed the stairs Charlie couldn’t help but stare at his aunty’s plump behind. The skin tight blue jeans she was wearing only intensified her incredible figure. Eventually they entered the spare bedroom and Charlie’s eyes locked onto the objects laid out on the bed. He saw a small Thomas the tank engine changing mat on the single bed, with a bottle of talcum powder, a package of baby wipes and a stack of 3 Tena Slip Maxi nappies. His face went bright red. “Now Charlie I want you to lie down on the changing mat and I’ll get you sorted” Emma turned and smiled at her nephew. “I could probably do this part myself” Charlie pushed back. “No no I insist. If you’re going to be a baby for a day we’re going to do it properly. Just relax I know you want to do this” Emma assured him. Charlie smiled and after a slight hesitation he sat on the bed and shuffled over so he was lying on the end of the bed with his legs hanging off the end. Emma then stood above him at the end of the bed and smiled. “Let’s get these big boy trousers off” Emma said as she pushed up his hoodie and grabbed the waistband of the joggers and begun pulling them down his legs. Once they were off his hairless legs and blue briefs were exposed. “Your pants are cute Charlie I like them!” Emma teased as she let out a little giggle, which only made Charlie more embarrassed. She then proceeded to pull them down his legs, “oh dear looks like you need some protection more than you think” she added as she held up the briefs to reveal a small wet spot on the front. He always dribbled the last drop of wee into his pants. “Aunty!” Charlie said as he dropped his hands down onto the bed forcefully. “I’m only teasing you sweety, now let’s get you into a nappy” Emma announced. The mere mention of the word got Charlie excited and he now needed to compose himself so he didn’t make the experience even more awkward than it already was. Charlie watched as Emma picked up the nappy and stretched it out. She then patted him on the thigh instructing him to left up his bottom. He complied as he lifted his legs and bottom up as he felt his Aunty slip the nappy underneath, and as he sat back down on the soft padding. He was in dreamland as his Aunty sprinkled a generous amount of powder on his crotch, shocked that he had managed to avoid an erection. “Nearly done” Emma teased as she lifted the front of the nappy over his genitals and strapped each side carefully. As he was fastened into the nappy the only feeling he had was pure elation. “All done Charlie! Stand up and let me have a look” Emma said as she grabbed both of his hands and lifted him up onto his feet. As he stood up straight he looked down and saw the nappy encapsulate his lower waist and crotch. He could feel it’s presence between his legs, and by no means was it a bad feeling. His aunty then proceeded to feel his bottom and adjust the waistband slightly until she was satisfied. “Wow you look so cute, does it make you feel little?” she asked him. “Yeah it does, it’s a bit big” Charlie responded as he then felt with his own hands. It protruded from all angles and it looked as authentic as a real babies nappy. “Well it is a nappy silly!” Emma laughed. “Now, do you want to wear what you are wearing now or would you like something a bit more, let’s say, fitting?”. Charlie knew this meant some sort of childish clothing but thought better of it, deciding to opt for baby steps in this experience. “Umm I’ll just stick with what I’m wearing now if that’s okay?” he said. “Okay if you want, but let’s leaving the joggers off for now. I don’t think they’ll actually fit over the nappy!” Emma compromised as she picked his joggers off the floor and folded them before placing them on the bed. “Let’s go downstairs”. She held her hand out to her now nappied nephew. Charlie took her hand and walked towards the door. Before they got to the doorway he looked to his right and saw his side profile in the full length mirror. He saw himself, wearing a grey hoodie, white sports socks and in between a large nappy. “Like what you see? Come on” Emma teased as she swatted him on the bum signalling him to move on. Charlie’s cheeked heated up and quickly carried on until he reached the stairs. They went back into the living room and both sat on the sofa. “Good boy” Emma remarked as he sat down. “Now Charlie, you can dictate how far into your baby fantasy you dive. That big box over there is full of toys from the nursery I used to work at so if you want to play with them go ahead. I’ll put some cartoons on the TV as well in case you want to just relax and watch them” Emma explained. That explained why that big out-of-place box was there. “Remember you are wearing a nappy so you have permission to wee or poo yourself if you want. I don’t mind changing you it was once my job to clean dirty bottoms!” she joked. This again made Charlie blush for the one thousandth time. “I’m going to do some washing up in the kitchen, I’ll be back in a few hours with a surprise” Emma said. “Oh and I’ll just leave this here” she added as she took something out of her pocket and placed in on the coffee table. Just like a rapper dropping the mic, she left the room swiftly. As Charlie looked down at the table he saw a solitary purple dummy. Charlie’s attention turned to the TV, which was now showing a cartoon called Bluey. He was sure he’d seen it somewhere before and eventually remembered that he’d briefly seen a few clips on TikTok. He sat for a few minutes transfixed on the TV and actually found himself enjoying the show. Periodically he’d look down and gaze at his nappy, poking and prodding it now and again to remind himself of what he was wearing. After a few episodes he became a bit bored of Bluey. It wasn’t that he wasn’t enjoying it, but he felt as though he was wasting time as he could pretty comfortably do that at home. He instead got up off the sofa and and walked towards the toy box. He took off the lid and then peered in seeing a vast array of toys. He saw teddies, action figures, puzzles and even some rattles. After rustling through his curious it was peaked by some wooden train tracks and trains. It suddenly unlocked a childhood memory and remembered it was in fact Brio. Charlie collected as much track as possible and began building his train network. As he connected the track together he perched on his elbows and knees with his bum stuck up in the air. To any onlooker he must’ve looked so babyish with his nappy exposed for all to see. Once the track was complete he began pushing the trains around the track, being taken over by an overwhelming feeling of nostalgia. As he stood up and went over to retreat some more trains from the toy box he felt a twinge in his bladder but chose to ignore it. It’s not like he’d never wet a nappy before, in fact he’d wet and even messed nappies as recently as a few months before today, but hadn’t quite prepared to do it in the open and in the presence of anyone else especially his aunty. While playing with the Brio, Emma walked into the room, stopping for a few seconds to see her nephew laying on his stomach with his legs kicking the air while playing with the train set. She couldn’t help but smile. “Having fun Charlie” she said. Charlie jumped in shock and immediately twisted around to sit in his bum and look up at his aunty. “Ummm just reminiscing with this Brio set I found” he replied. “I remember you playing with that when you were younger, you’ve always loved your trains haven’t you! After all of that playing you must be thirsty?” Emma asked, keeping her hands behind her back. “Well I’ve got a little treat for you”. She then revealed what she was holding. Charlie saw her holding a large babies bottle full of milk. She was clearly ramping up the baby experience for him. “Come over here” Emma ordered as she sat down on the sofa. Charlie got up and walked towards her before she placed her hand in his chest signalling for him to stop. He stood confused in front of his aunty. Her hand moved down to Charlie’s crotch, cupping the bottom of the nappy and then running her fingers along the edge of the nappy. “All dry! Remember if you need a wee just let it go, that’s what the nappy is for” his aunty told him. She then patted on the sofa as he sat down next to her. “Why don’t you get comfy and lay down, put your head on my legs here” she put her hand on Charlie’s back and he did as he was told, remaining silent throughout. Within seconds he was lying on his back with his head on his aunty’s lap, looking up at her. “Good boy, here you go” she cooed as she lowered the bottle into his mouth as he received the plastic nipple. He began sucking and the warm milk flowed into his mouth. The intense joy of the drink made him shut his eyes, aided by his aunty stroking his fringe. They sat for a fair amount of time just relaxing as he finished off the bottle of milk. “All gone! Wow you must’ve been thirsty” Emma announced as she lifted the bottle back out of his mouth. “Did you enjoy that?”. “That was really nice thank you” Charlie said as he sat back up. His bladder was now beginning to ache as he realised it wouldn’t be long until he needed to release. “Right I’ll leave you to carry on playing. I’ll put Finding Nemo on the TV for you in case you want to watch that instead and have a snooze” Emma said as she grabbed the remote and navigated to the films section. Once she pressed play she got up and went back towards the kitchen. “Thank you Aunty Emma” Charlie said with a smile on his face. “Aww my pleasure sweety. Just shout if you’d like anything to eat” Emma said. She suddenly turned back around and picked up the dummy off the table and in one swoop pushed it into Charlie’s mouth. She then bent down and kissed is forehead, before finally leaving. Charlie just let it happen, he’d fully loosened up to the baby experience at this point. Speaking of loosening up, Charlie realised he pretty desperately needed to pee and couldn’t wait much longer. He glanced again at the doorway and listened out just to make sure his aunty wasn’t coming back in. Once he gave himself the green light he slumped off the sofa into a squat position with his back up against the sofa, then adjusting the nappy in between his legs. He looked up and began watching Finding Nemo, trying to relax so he could comfortably release his bladder. After quite a few seconds he could feel the first few drops of wee come out, and after only a small push he felt a tidal wave explode into the front of his nappy. Due to his position, it washed over his balls like a tidal wave before being soaked up by the lower part of the Tena. He let out an audible sigh through the dummy as the warmth encapsulated his crotch. After moments of pure elation he could feel his wee come to a close, but to his surprise, as he pushed for the final time to make sure his bladder was fully empty, he received another call from his body. “Uh oh” he whispered as he came to the realisation that his bowels were asking for release. Looking back he hadn’t had is regular bowel movement this morning before leaving so it was due, but unfortunately it had come at the wrong time. He did briefly consider finding his aunty and asking to go to the toilet, but he remembered what she’d said earlier and he;d already wet himself, he may as well go all the way and make the most of the nappy. He switched position, seamlessly transitioning from a squat to being on all fours. As he stared at the TV, he began actively sucking the dummy as he concentrated on pushing. After a few hard pushes, he felt some movement. “Eughhhhh” he groaned as a large log squeezed out of his cheeks and crashed into the resistance of the back of his nappy. He kept up momentum as the poo broke and fell into the nappy, followed by some softer poo that smeared across him bum and the nappy. A couple of smaller pushes were to no avail, everything was out, and his nappy had gone from completely clean to pretty much full in a matter of minutes. Charlie stood up and assessed the damage. As he stood up straight the softer poo smudged in between his cheeks and he felt the soggy material push against his skin. He looked down to see the nappy sagging between his legs, and began exploring with his hand as he felt in between his legs and on his bottom. He could feel the lump protruding behind as he felt his penis stiffen and sniffed the air, which was now twinged with an aroma of a dirty nappy. Suddenly his attention turned to his surroundings. He decided the best thing to do would be to sit down and cling onto the faint hope that his aunty wouldn’t notice his wet and messy nappy. He backed up to the sofa before lowering down onto the cold leather, before committing and shifting his weight onto his bottom. The mess smeared all over his cheeks and even felt a small bit of poo travel up his bum crack, which caused a shiver to be sent up his spine. He carried on watching Finding Nemo and sucking on his dummy, awaiting his fate. About half an hour later, Charlie heard some footsteps get louder and louder with every step. By this time his nappy had cooled and the poo had almost hardened like cement. He’d hardly moved in the time since he sat down. ‘Here we go’ he thought to himself. “Hey Charlie, are you enjoying the film?” His aunty asked as she walked in with a duster in hand, waving it around the book cabinet next to the door. “Yep it’s one of my favourites” Charlie said as calm as he could. “Oh that’s good, I’m just going doing a bit of cleaning don’t mind m” Emma was cut off by something. She stood and looked around the room, before audibly sniffing the air three or four times. She stood facing Charlie on the other side of the room and put her hands on her hips. “Charlie is there something you want to tell me?” she asked him. Charlie sat silently. “Hmmm, something in here smells and I think you might know what it is?” She asked him again. “And don’t think I haven’t noticed that blue line on the front of your nappy”, Emma peered down at Charlie’s crotch. Emma slowly walked over to him and then sniffed again. “Up” she said promptly. Charlie slowly got up off the sofa and as soon as he was upright she grabbed his shoulders and turned him around. He then felt the back waistband of his nappy open before being pinged back into position. “Just as I thought, Charlie has pooed himself! And it’s a smelly one too phewy!” Emma teased as Charlie turned around just in time to see her pinch her nose. Charlie’s eyes began to water. “Is there something you want to ask me Charlie?” his aunty asked. “Ummm, can you change me please?” Charlie said quietly, with his hands hiding his crotch. “And why do you need changing Charlie?” she added, trying to make him feel as small as possible. “Well… because, I, umm, I’ve done a wee and a poo” Charlie said in a more babyish tone, his desires beginning to take over. “Of course you can honey. Are you able to walk or would you rather I carried you?” she asked him. Charlie simp,y held up his arms up signalling he’d rather be carried. Without saying anything, she grabbed under his armpits and lifted him up in the air before moving her arms so she was holding him by his thighs, with his bum and messy nappy hanging between. He wrapped his arms around her neck and buried his head into her shoulder. “Oh this stinky boy is heavy! Let’s get upstairs before I drop you” she said as she quickly headed to the stairs. Her tone of voice suggested she was really using all her strength to carry him. After just a few seconds they were upstairs and he was lowered onto the changing mat. “Let’s take your hoodie off just in case” she said as she helped him take the hoodie off, leaving him in just a grey t-shirt, a soggy nappy and a pair of white socks. Charlie remained silent as his aunty got to work on wiping his bottom and cleaning any area that the nappy had made contact with. He had his eyes shut the whole time, not being able to bear the site of his aunty wiping poo off his bum. “There we go all clean, bet that feels better Charlie?” Emma asked as she wrapped up the dirty nappy and placed it on the floor. “Yeah it does thanks” he responded, not quite as embarrassed now the deed was done. “Now Charlie you have a choice. I can either put you back in your pants and you can head home, or I can get you into a clean nappy and I’ll call your mum telling her you’d like to stay for tea. What’ll it be?” Emma enquired as Charlie looked straight at her, with his light blue briefs in one hand and a folded Tena Slip Maxi in the other. He looked at both items. If he chose the pants, he’d potentially be waving away the chance to indulge further in his greatest fantasy. If he chose the nappy, he would be indicating to his aunty and mum that he was a baby at heart but would be harder to deal with when he inevitably went home and back to reality. It was a real dilemma. “Would it be okay to stay for tea?” Charlie answered. Safe to say his aunty wasn’t at all surprised by his answer. “Okay baby, I’ll call your mummy” Emma said as she smiled at her nephew.

Mahmoud – the shaver He arrived exactly at the time specified and I opened the door to find a rather good looking, dark skinned, 24 year-old on my doorstep carrying a holdall. As he entered he smiled a dazzling smile that immediately put me at ease and we shook hands. He told me his name was Mahmoud and that’s what I should call him if I felt the need to speak. However, he wanted to get straight down to what he’d come for and told me to go and shower. I told him I’d had one earlier but he insisted that I go again - As the hot water would soften the bristles as he shaved my hairy bollocks. He told me to turn off any mobile, music etc. as he didn’t want any distractions and sent me off to the bathroom. Meanwhile, he would prepare the area and get himself ready. This was a first for me. I’d seen his advert on a specialist site online for ‘Pubic Shaving’ and it appealed. The thought of someone else doing something so intimate had got my thoughts going mad and the excitement at the prospect had made sure I booked my new visitor at the earliest opportunity. The fact he took charge was a bonus and, even though I was a good ten years older and had six inches in height, it was good for me to know my place. # I spent about ten minutes making sure every part of my body got a good hot soaking and when I returned to the living room Mahmoud had laid out a huge thick white towel, as well as his shaving items and massage oils. He was also naked except for a shiny thick metal cock ring that was held in place by three leather straps; a thick one around his waist and thinner ones around the top of each thigh. His cock was pushed out by the ring but in truth didn’t appear to be that large or threatening. However, with his slim toned body the overall look was absolutely stunning and I settled down naked on the towel to let him get to work. Firstly he trimmed my thick pubic bush with a pair of scissors and when that was down to a manageable length he foamed up a rich lather spreading it all over my cock and balls. The feeling was of the most exquisite sensuality and of course my cock began to grow. I don’t have a particular large cock but it was firming up nicely as he ministered the foam and applied his razor. He was slow, methodical and intense, whilst replying in a soft whisper to all the questions I wanted to ask. Despite him saying he didn’t want any distractions he was far too polite to tell me to shut up. Manners and good looks – what could be better? “What country are you from originally?” “Iran.” “What are you doing in England?” “At the University studying agriculture, bio chemistry and English.” “What made you start doing this shaving… um… thing?” I struggled to find the correct description for what was happening. “My father taught me. We do this in the village where I come from. It is a tradition that the older men keep their genitals free of hair. The reason for this is steeped in folklore and is a bit too confusing for Westerners to understand.” I could tell he didn’t want to take the explanation any further and in all honesty my conversation was coming to a close as with each stroke of the razor my cock throbbed with delight. # He took over an hour stripping each and every hair from my cock and balls and made a neat leveled-off pattern around the top of my thighs. With every small or long stroke from his cut throat razor his finger, finger nail, palm or the edge of his instrument would gently rub and stimulate my hard-on even more. My mind was doing loops of desire and excitement as the thrill-factor seemed to increase but no offer for release was presented. I happily throbbed, pulsed and sweated manfully as he cleared my pubes to produce a stunningly smooth and utterly hairless surface. I don’t think I’ve ever been so naked apart from when I was a baby and the soft white area made my cock look even bigger, more proud and an absolute stonking organ anyone would have been proud to own. As he rubbed some sweet smelling liquid into the newly shaved area he just told me that this would take away any possible razor burns my skin might react to and would make it so the area remains silky soft and smooth for quite some time. I loved what he’d done and was all set to offer my thanks and let him be on his way… except he told me the job wasn’t over yet and that I should turn over. He told me that all my hair should come off and that included the great hairy tufts that surrounded my arse. I wasn’t going to complain. I looked at his cock and it had grown to a cute size itself, about four inches, and jerked up and down as he set about lathering up my bum. For all the sensuality that he had given my cock and balls I wasn’t quite ready for the thrilling feelings that my bum soon enjoyed. The foamy brush tickled and teased my very being as he lathered up my puckered and tight hole. Again he took ages and was concentrating even more on dispensing with the hair but making sure not to cut into the vulnerable skin. Under me my cock was as stiff as ever and I desperately wanted to shoot my load all over the thick white towel… and then some more… but another hour was spent keeping me on the very sexual edge as he slowly sliced away at the tight hairs that seemed to take an age to get rid of. I closed my eyes and gave way to all those exquisite calm feelings flowing over me and I drifted sleepily in between consciousness and unconsciousness. I came out of a fantastic relaxing dream and felt him soothing more oils into my naked bum and massaging my bum cheeks; his small brown fingers occasionally slipping and tickling my hole. First one digit, then a tickle followed by a slightly deeper probe and another graze from an errant finger nail, my God, this feeling was utterly amazing. In all my life I had never been fucked but this attention to my hole was such an unbelievable turn on I began to think about the possibilities. His hands came together as if in prayer and he formed a thicker digit by pressing two fingers together and pushing into my arse. I opened up to receive whatever it was and I felt the thickness increase as he spent a few minutes oily massaging my sphincter muscle. Again he did this most methodically and I was aware that my hole was opening up under this gentle but insistent attack and wishing he had a cock to match the horny lustful thoughts that were spinning around in my brain. # He ordered me to get up on my hands and knees and I did so without thinking as I hoped he would now let me relieve my bubbling, cum-filled balls. The fingers that he’d just spent time massaging my hole were now wrapped over my eyes in a sort of pretend blindfold and he moved them down to my mouth and tenderly offered them each to be licked. Although he was not being pushy I felt I had no alternative but to suck on each one and when I did Mahmoud let out a small gasp of pleasure and satisfaction. Once licked and cleaned his hands moved down my body and stroked my hips, which had started to buck slightly as if I was fucking some invisible hole. My cock was hard and desperate for release and my bum hole was now on fire, whatever that lotion was had produced an incredible sensation that needed to be satiated. As he played with my hips I could feel his cock nudge at my hole and was pleased that he wanted to fuck me. I thought that it was the least I could do after the things he’d done for me and hoped that he would get some satisfaction out of it. The nudge at the entrance to my burning hole just held itself for a few seconds and I was desperate to ease myself back onto him. He gripped my hips and started to pull me back guiding his cute cock up past my hot ring. As I pushed back I suddenly felt my hole being stretched wide and, judging by the size of it I’d seen earlier, I guessed that I’d be backed up to his pelvic bone by now but the length just kept going. With each inch I was stretched even wider and Mahmoud encouraged me to take the whole thing as he said I was ready for it. He pulled me back some more and my love muscle gaped in wonder as this thick object pushed me even wider. I began to get nervous but Mahmoud encouraged me more and insisted that I didn’t touch my own cock but just make sure I stayed upright and on all fours. Like everything else so far from my Iranian friend, everything had been slow, definite and gentle but now, with this huge cock embedded deep in my gut he let out some Iranian words and began to fuck me hard and passionately. I screamed in surprise but the foreign words just kept tumbling from his mouth. At times it was like he was saying some kind of prayer and at others that he was calling on all his ancestors to join him in this marathon fuck. He may have been calling me names, swearing at me or just happy to be screwing a newly shaved arse I don’t know but what I did know was that I had to work really hard to stay on all fours as this slim-hipped young man powered away into me. # My cock exploded a torrent of cum all over the towel and I’d never seen so much gush out of my knob - spurt after spurt seemed to make a huge lake and still he fucked deep yelling at the top of his voice. My arms buckled and give way but my legs stayed where they were so he was fucking my butt as my chest lay in my own pool of warm milky juice. I begged him to stop but he obviously wasn’t anywhere near ready to unload so I just gritted my teeth and relaxed my hole as much as I could. For another 30 minutes he fucked (and I came twice more) eventually shouting, in Iranian, that he had arrived. My hole was stinging, hot, used, wide and hairless as he withdrew and although, at that moment I felt used, I was unbelievably satisfied. I’d never had, nor dreamt of having, a session of such intensity and I was immensely grateful… if more than a bit shagged out. After a couple of recovering minutes I turned to thank him and he was busy unscrewing a long, thick pink prosthetic cock from his cock ring. His own cock fit nicely inside it and I could see that he had eventually cum himself as the stuff was dripping from the object as he held it up for inspection He patted my bum. “Very nice Mister… thank you,” he said with that slight accent. “I have enjoyed myself immensely.” Naked, newly shaved and with a sore arse that was sore but glowing… I was really a bit stunned and just had this stupid, uncomprehending smile on my face. He quickly packed his stuff away, cleared up and put everything back into the backpack he arrived with. As he got dressed I noticed that he slipped into a pristine white disposable, which he taped into place without a thought. He pulled up his trousers and then grabbed his backpack, pulled out another neatly folded disposable and shook it out. I knew it was meant for me and recoiled at the very idea. “No?” he questioned as I shook my head telling him I wasn’t going to wear a nappy. “This is impregnated with exceptional botanicals and especially formulated talc from my village.” He fluffed it out and a small cloud of powder rose up. “This will keep you comfortable, whilst the soothing nature of all those ingredients will add to the pleasure your newly shaved areas will appreciate.” My half-hearted protests were ignored as he told me to lift and I did. Before fastening me in he squeezed some oily gel into the palm of his hand and slavered it all over the now nude areas. “This is to be used at every change.” I didn’t quite grasp what he meant. “It will keep hair growth down and moisturize the area and will add more sensitivity.” He smiled, “And you will love the sensations this little piece of padded bliss will offer.” With that he taped me in and handed over the small jar of the cream he’d just used. “Remember, apply it sparingly but at every change and the effect is better if you wear…” and he pointed to the fresh nappy. “I recommend that you keep that one on for at least twenty-four hours if you can. Use it for its purpose if necessary but the benefit will be greater the longer you leave it on… give everything time to take effect. I can guarantee you’ll love the benefits.” I tried to tell him I wouldn’t be replacing the damn thing but he just smiled, shushed me and told me to close my eyes, relax and let my body, not my mind, do the thinking. Perhaps strangely I was still under his spell and as he let himself out, having taken the money I’d left as payment on the side table, I let myself feel the soft padded comfort of the disposable gently envelop my mind as well as my groin. He was correct, the padding was comforting and the newly shaved areas seemed to be aglow with sensitivity. I didn’t have to touch anything yet could feel the soothing unguents doing their job, seeping into my skin to make me shiver in delight. Whatever was in that stuff was quite powerful and soon my entire body was aflame and euphoric? I stood up and walked to the mirror in the bathroom. I assumed the reflection would endorse what I thought about wearing a nappy but no, I was wrong. The tight fitting piece of layered material hugged and comforted me and bizarrely looked and felt like it was needed. I had to do some appraising and realized that I wanted all of this to happen. I wanted someone to take charge and treat me in the way Mahmoud had done. I loved the reflection and the fact that the nappy was hugging me tightly so why would I want anything else? So, despite my initial reaction to wearing padding I now saw it as a positive that went with having a shaved groin. The fabric caressed my shaved cock, balls and arse and it was electric. It was only different underwear to what I was used to and who’s to say, this style was any worse. I ran my hand over the soft padding and it felt really nice and soft but in my head I could think of nothing except this was the correct item to wear for a recently shaved, baby soft guy like me. Mahmoud was correct the nappy was all part of the process and I didn’t want to lose that feeling. I was hooked so the nappy stayed. ********

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

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

A Strange Visit It was the start of the summer holidays and Grandma and Grandpa’s golden wedding anniversary, so the entire family, as well as a bunch of friends and neighbours, were congregating at their large house in the country. It’s quite old and gloomy but has six bedrooms for those who were staying over, which included me and my family, Uncle Ernest and his family, Aunty Pat and her husband, Gordon and Cleo who were friends of Grandpa’s and had flown in from Australia and Stephen Wilkes who’d driven up from the South coast and used to be an old neighbour of theirs. The house even had a name as you turned into the drive, Wood View (1854) and had been the dwelling of the area bishop in years gone by. Grandpa had bought it and was where he brought his new wife and where their children were born. Uncle Ernest was the eldest, then Aunty Pat and then my mother Diana. When she married my father, James, they didn’t have much money so when they found out I was on the way, it was agreed they should live in the family home. When I was born, we stayed with Grandma and Grandpa for a while so we’re all pretty close. In fact, we remained with them until about ten years ago when I was four and we moved about 100 miles to a new house in the city. Dad had got a huge promotion and became manager of the company he worked for. He’s now the CEO and in charge of everything. When we lived at Wood View it always seemed a cold rambling building but from an early age the nursery became my room and as I got older it was nice to have so much space where I could spread out my toys and have a place to play. Even now, when we visit and stay over, I have that room, though Grandpa got rid of the childish bed as it would be too small for me now and I have a much nicer bigger single bed. You need something like a thick duvet because even in summer the place radiates the chills. Not that it’s haunted or anything, despite all the creaks and groans, it’s just that type of draughty place but, it is in the countryside, and that’s wonderful to explore. Anyway, the house doesn’t seem much warmer despite the fact that when they had the builders in to construct a conservatory they added central heating to the entire place. Another improvement was that they had part of their large bedroom converted so there is now a bathroom in there. Up until then there was only one ‘family’ bathroom, which was long and large and felt like you were entering some vast, cold tunnel that had a bath and toilet at the end of it. That room only heated up when you took a bath but you never lingered for long if you used the toilet. Despite Gran’s best attempts, even the potted plant and shelves of fresh towels couldn’t brighten up the place. At night it was a scary and icy place to visit. # There were about eighty people who came to celebrate with us and both my grandparents are healthy and involved in the local community, so lots of locals as well as family turned up. By the time we got there the bedrooms had been allocated and ended up with all us boys in my old bedroom. Unfortunately for me, Brian, Uncle Ernest’s eldest son, had commandeered my bed for himself and there were a couple of inflatable mattresses and sleeping bags for me and my twelve year old cousin Reece who’s Aunty Pat’s son. Brian’s youngest brother, three year old Martin, was lucky as Grandpa had restored my little old bed which fitted him OK. There’s also Reece’s sister April (13) and I forgot to mention Brian’s sister, fourteen year old Fiona. My two female cousins get on really well and they had a room to themselves as they wouldn’t share with anybody. Whilst I get on OK with Reece I’m the complete opposite of Brian who I think is a bit of a bully. At sixteen he’s school captain of both the football and rugby team and derides me every time I join in any game because I’m hopeless. I just hate getting hurt, which I think is a sensible position to take. He thinks I’m a “swotty little twat” and I know this because he’s called me that ever since I passed the entrance exam to get into the exclusive school I now go to. The party was a huge success and I had a great time along with everyone else I think. When it came to bedtime we all had our room, well except for Gordon and Cleo who were going to be in the conservatory on the fold-out couch, whilst Steve Wilkes was going to be on the sofa in the living room. Of course my room was the busiest and Aunty Judy, Uncle Ernest’s wife, took Martin up first and got him settled about 9.30. Then around 10.30 Aunty Pat said it was time Reece made for bed and mum said I should go as well. I know I’m only a year older than him but I wanted to be treated as Brian was, he didn’t seem to be under any restrictions. I even saw him downing a bottle or two of beer, which I was forbidden to even try. Anyway, despite my protest not to leave, and I saw the look on Brian’s face as if to say ‘it’s time all kiddies were in bed’, mum was insistent so had no option if I didn’t want to cause a scene at the party. If I had I would have been in serious trouble so irritably flounced upstairs to join the others. When I got there I saw that Aunty Pat was putting Reece in a disposable and pulling plastic pants over them before he slipped into his PJs. I was a bit shocked but aunty explained that, as there was only one toilet for us all to use and it was a bit chilly late at night to make the journey, to save any embarrassment a nappy was judged a good idea. I saw the logic but just shrugged glad mum hadn’t insisted on the same for me - except, aunty ruffled out another one and looked my way. “I’m not wearing a nappy aunty, I’m too old.” I tried to explain. “I can get to the loo if I need to so...” I was whispering my argument because Martin was asleep in his little bed and we didn’t want to wake him. “Sorry Danny but your mum and dad think it’s for the best so... you will have to wear one.” I was furious but with Reece looking on I didn’t want to lose face though she could tell I was on the verge of a massive tantrum. She wasn’t going to put up with any unwillingness on my part and obviously anxious to get back to the party. “Look, I can get your father if you want but suspect he won’t be happy being dragged away for something that has already been decided.” I felt cornered because I know dad doesn’t like it when I act like a big kid, he thinks I’m sensible and know that things are done for my benefit. I was torn but Reece was in one so it was hard to refuse. Mind you, I had no idea what threat his mother had made before he agreed to wear one. “I’ll count to three and if you don’t let me put you in this straight away...” and she waved the thick disposable in my direction, “I’ll get your dad and let him do it. One, two...” “OK, OK.” I conceded despite the fact that I knew Brian would have a ball if he knew we were wearing nappies. “That’s better now, Reece’s all wrapped up so you’re not alone. Even Martin’s wearing one...” “Yes but he’s only three so I suppose...” “You’ll be grateful when you see you won’t have to negotiate finding the bathroom in the middle of the night. We don’t mind if you use it as that’s what it’s there for so don’t worry if you do.” Use the nappy... was she mad? It wasn’t like I could offer to do it myself because aunty had obviously been given a job and this was now cutting into her party time. She wanted it done and out of the way as quickly as possible. I piled my clothes on the chair and looked longingly across at my bed but knew if I occupied it and Brian came up, he’d punch me in the face. A shiver ran down my spine as I was being taped into the thick (though soft) padding and she’d even opened a pair of clear plastic pants like Reece was wearing for me to slip into. “There that’s better, all nice and safe now.” She watched as I shuffled up my PJs. “There, all done now... night-night boys... I’ll see you in the morning.” There was no denying the room was cool but not cold, however, once the central heating went off I knew it could get quite chilly. I was quite grateful to hug myself in the sleeping bag and the air mattresses were quite bouncy. I was still wide awake so Reece and I whispered to each other for a while. I asked him if his mum had put him in nappies before but he said it was a first. He’d objected like I had but she was taking no backchat so thought it best to go along with it. He confessed that the corridor leading down to the bathroom he always found scary when he visited so wasn’t against this novel idea. We both had to agree that we were pretty snug so getting up would have been a bit of a chore... so maybe, it wasn’t such a bad notion. I reminisced a bit about when I was little and used to live here and how much I loved having the nursery where I had all my toys and what a great place it was to play. I was thinking back but didn’t mention that mum had put a little potty in the corner for me to use when we stayed here. The reason for that was I wasn’t potty trained until we left and I was about to start school at five years old. There were a few of Marty’s toys scattered around but mainly Gran had made a place for him to play downstairs as at the moment this room was quite full. We talked about what was our favourite thing we ate at the party. How much we’d drunk, we both seemed to have downed a litre and half of Coca Cola, and how the girls had treated us as if we were just kids, just because they had worn their best dresses and were obviously pleased with the rest of the guests reaction to them. They got tons and tons of praise, whereas, we boys got a smile and that was about it. Meanwhile, we could hear the noise from the party with the laughter and music but it wasn’t long before we both joined Martin in the Land of Nod. # It was Martin who woke us up. He was calling for his brother, trying to wake him up by telling him he was wet and needed a change. It was strange because I’d just imagined that Brian would be as off hand with his little brother as he was with me, he wasn’t. “OK Marty, just give me a minute and I’ll get you all changed.” He yawned and swung his legs over the side of ‘my’ bed and I noticed he was just wearing a t-shirt and boxers. I felt cheated he wasn’t also consigned to what Reece and I had to wear but suppose, being sixteen, gives you special privileges. I have to say that he looked a great deal older than the rest of us and carried out his brother’s change with barely any comment other than encouragement. Martin hugged his brother when he was finally all cleaned up and wearing a fresh clean fabric nappy. Brian noticed that we were both awake now and looked over at the two of us. “OK, are you wet as well?” It was a question I didn’t want to hear from him because I knew he’d just take the piss. I was also annoyed that he seemed to know we’d been wearing disposables with plastic pants. “OK Reece you first, come here.” Reluctantly, my twelve year old cousin left the warmth of his sleeping bag and toddled over to Brian. “Are you wet?” Brian simply asked to which Reece nodded. “OK then, let’s get you out of that soggy mess... it is only soggy isn’t it?” The question was a little apprehensive. Again Reece nodded whilst Brian exhaled in relief. Brian seemed to know exactly what he was doing as he helped Reece off with his PJs and patted his plastic pants but it was noticeable that he’d soaked his disposable as it had expanded quite considerably. Without asking, just as he’d done with his little brother, he pulled at the tapes and the heavy wet fabric fell to the floor. He grabbed some wipes and cleaned him up, shook some talc all over him and then unfolded another disposable. “Erm, I don’t think...” Reece began nervously. Brian took no notice and slapped his hand away as he tried to prevent him threading the disposable between his legs. “Stop that,” he admonished and Reece was far too scared to put up any further resistance. He did a good job and had him turn full-circle so he could see that his handy work fitted correctly. He then did what aunty had done the night before and opened up the pair of plastic pants for him to step into. Once they were pulled up and patted into place he told him to go put the rest of his clothes on. “OK Danny, your turn.” He smiled. “No, I’m OK thanks, I can sort myself out I don’t need any help from you.” I was offhand. “Well, that may be so cousin but your parents and gran have said that I’m in charge of you boys whilst we’re here and that if you’ve wet, which is all very fine...” he added, as if to say it was expected, “you have to wear a disposable for the rest of the day.” “WHAT?” I exclaimed loudly. “Be quiet you idiot. The rest of the house had a very, erm, heavy night and are still sleeping so... hussssshhhh.” “I’m not wearing a nappy.” I complained. “OK, well you don’t have to but... are you wet?” He questioned and I knew I would have to answer him. I was still in my sleeping bag so no one knew I was as wet as Reece had been but just didn’t want to admit it to anyone. However, whilst both Martin and Reece looked on, Brian marched over, reached into my sleeping bag and pulled me out. My pyjama bottoms had slipped down to reveal my thick and expanded disposable held tightly under the glass-like structure of my stretched plastic pants. “Hmmm, I think we can tell you’re wet so...” he returned to his bed and pulled out another disposable from the pack (which aunty had left under the bed) and fluffed it out. He looked sternly at me. “You can walk over here and let me do my job... or... I can drag you over here put you over my knee and give you a thorough spanking.” “I, errr, um...” was all I could add because despite my pretending otherwise I found him quite intimidating. This was ridiculous. Here I was in my old nursery and just about to be returned to wearing a nappy, something I hadn’t done for nearly ten years. Well apart from last night. “They said you might be difficult but not to put up with any silliness so... what’s it going to be?” I felt another nervous spurt of pee soak into my disposable and knew I had no alternative if I didn’t want a public spanking. He was so much bigger and stronger and knew they’d be no chance if he decided to do as threatened. “C’mon Danny, stop being such a little drama queen, it’s only a nappy.” He nodded toward his little brother. “You don’t see Marty making such a fuss about it now do you?” By this time Reece had put all his clothes on whilst little Martin was playing with his teddy bear but still wearing only a fleecy top but no bottoms. His nappy and cute cartoony plastic pants were on view. I have to say that Martin (Marty) was a lovable little tyke and an absolute joy to be around. Last night he’d kept many of the adults amused with his childish antics and questions - the complete opposite of his big brother. Also, it had been fun playing with him and all the cool new toys he had scattered around the house and bedroom. “No but he’s still a baby and not potty trained.” Is what I wanted to say but thought better of it so timidly walked over where he immediately helped me out of my PJs. It didn’t seem to register that he was only two years older than me and therefore this was most inappropriate. So, although I was embarrassed enough to flush bright red, he just got on as if this was something he did regularly. He wasn’t nearly as rough as I imagined he’d be. In fact, he seemed resigned to his job and anxious to get it over with. “Look, if you think I’m happy with this you must be mad but... it’s what has been ordained,” he nodded in the direction of the other bedrooms. “So, let’s just get it done and have some breakfast.” He pulled down the plastic pants and as he’d done with Reece, ripped at the side tapes and let the sodden fabric fall to the floor with a squishy flop. The quick burst of cool air to my lower half made me shiver and goose pimples replaced the now pinkish flush. The moist wet wipes felt strange especially when it invaded my bum hole, which I suppose is what he did with Marty to make sure his was thoroughly clean. Once he was sure I (and it) was particularly clean he rubbed in some Bepanthen ointment. I noticed that Reece hadn’t had that done but by the time I thought to say anything he was already showering me in talc. Again, like my younger cousin, he pulled the white disposable between my legs and tugged everything together tightly before taping me in. Also like Reece he made me give a twirl to make sure he was satisfied with his work and then passed the plastic pants. The look he gave me when I hesitated made sure I quickly slipped them on. “There... all done, that wasn’t so bad was it? Must be like old times for you Danny... this being your old nursery and all.” He smiled and picked his little brother up and set off to the kitchen. “OK guys c’mon... I’m also in charge of getting you fed.” He watched as I negotiated my jeans up and over the bulkiness but managed it in the end. Reece was wearing a pair of green cargo shorts but Martin still had only his shiny plastic pants for cover. It seemed strange because we had to be quiet, as everyone else was still sleeping and there were various people in different areas of the house. Bottles and plates and some food were still on various surfaces but oddly the kitchen was relatively tidy. Brian warmed some milk for Martin and put bowls out for us two. Reece chose Coco Pops, which I guess gran had got in specially, whilst I choose Frosties as they’re my favourite and she always has them for when we call or stay over. We had orange juice, whilst Brian had toast and coffee but was surprisingly attentive to his brother’s needs. Martin seemed to enjoy drinking his warm milk from a sippy cup and tucking in to cut up pieces of jam on toast. “OK you guys, the idea is for me to take you for a walk in the woods for a bit of fresh air and exercise this morning. I think they really want you out of the way so there’s no noise and they can all sleep a bit longer. So, let me get Martin dressed... it looks a nice morning so you might not need a big coat... and we’ll be down in a minute.” He was taking us out wearing nappies and that worried me a bit but I don’t suppose anyone would notice. I didn’t think it was obvious under my jeans but I knew what I was wearing and there was a slight swish as I walked. Everything ‘down there’ felt tight and crushed I just hoped I’d be out of this ridiculous situation before too long. I thought all this as I finished my cereal and watched Reece slurp down his chocolate coloured milk and smile. It was obviously a part of eating Coco Pops that he loved. I was still a bit concerned about the padding although my cousin didn’t appear that bothered. I hadn’t had chance to speak to him about the fact we were both in nappies. “What do you think?” And I patted the soft padding under my jeans. “I was too scared to say anything... he’s quite frightening.” Reece offered but said no more on the subject. I think he was worried Brian might return and spank him for speaking out. I had to agree Brian was very frightening because he was so big and not like any other person I knew around his age. He certainly towered of us two and was nearly as tall as his dad. Although he was just a couple of years older than me, Brian looked and acted like a grown up. Reece and I had both complied with his demands without too much opposition so I suppose that’s why he’s the captain of sport at school... he gets things done. We grabbed our hoodies and waited at the back kitchen door for him and Marty. I surreptitiously rubbed my bum and could feel the padding underneath my jeans and wondered why the grown-ups would have decided that we should wear these during the day. I mean, it made slight sense last night but today, it made no sense at all. However, no one but Brian was around to ask and he’d already told us this was the way it was going to be. Still... I wondered. After the hectic party the night before the house was very quiet so any conversation was held in whispers. At that time in the morning the atmosphere both indoors and outdoors was still quite eerie. #tbc#

Nappies for one... no, two. About a month ago, my mate Paul told me that he has a fetish for wearing nappies. I didn’t believe him but, there in the pub, he undid the top of his jeans and gave me a glimpse of the ones he was wearing. It was strange because I’ve known Paul nearly all my life and I thought I knew everything about him yet this revelation both repulsed and interested me. I suppose it was the drink that made him confess but all I did was take the piss and mock him for it. Even though I could see my words were hurting, I just couldn’t seem to stop. In the end he said that it was twats like me and my attitude that made him want to wear them in the first place and stormed off. A couple of days later, and after I’d thought about it and realised what he wore was absolutely nothing to do with me, I was intrigued so went round to his place to apologise. He met me at the door wearing a pair of brightly coloured pull-ups like I’d seen kids wear in advertisements for Pampers on TV. Again I was shocked but still went in to do what I’d come to do… apologise. I have to say being small, lithe and softly spoken, Paul looks cute at the best of times, but now, in just his kiddie-style nappy, he looked even cuter. He told me, because I was his best mate, he’d felt able to tell me about the ‘little secret’ he’d kept for years and felt betrayed by my reaction. I apologised and told him that it was because I was in shock and didn’t understand or… he cut me dead. “Do you know what?” he said, “Wearing these make me feel safe. I don’t know why but they provide me with comfort when the world around me goes mad or work gets too much.” I let him continue without interrupting. “You and my nappies are… no, were… the only good things in my life that I could rely on. You’ve spoiled that.” There was more. I just hadn’t appreciated just what stress a small guy, constantly being picked on and ridiculed over something he had no control over (his size) or the punch-bag he’d become as an outlet for others anger and stresses. For some reason he’d found himself the butt of every joke, every derogatory expression, every snide comment and all because he never fought back. He was a nice lad being abused by a world that thought mockery was the height of sophisticated banter. It wasn’t. Now I felt really guilty so again I apologised and we talked some more. “I’m really sorry Paul, you’re right, I should know better and that’s why I’m here. I can’t say I’m not a little bit suspicious, or if I’m truthful a little intrigued, by it all, but I know I reacted badly. I am really sorry.” I think he saw that I meant it and a smile returned to his face. I hoped it was a sign I’d been forgiven. He obviously felt no shame or need to cover up, he was still only wearing a t-shirt and a pair of colourful pull-ups, but I suppose, in his own house, he didn’t need to pretend. The thing was, I was, as I said, intrigued and thought my mate looked the part. I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or a put-down but I meant, well, it seemed right. I think he noticed that my eyes were drawn to the silky bulge, and although I knew I was staring at his crotch, I couldn’t tear my eyes away. The juvenile image had made me smile and I have to admit I was thinking what fun it must be to be able to wear such a thing. I have no idea where that thought came from but I think that may be why he was smiling back at me, he knew I was engrossed in his special secret. “I’ve worn this kind of ‘protection’ since I was a kid,” he confided. “But now I wear it because I feel safe and secure... like I did when mum and dad were around.” He shrugged knowing that would never happen as his parents were no longer with us. “It helps me cope with everything that piles up mentally and physically.” He looked over at me sheepishly but I knew there was a hint of disappointment in that scrutiny. “I trusted you with my secret and you...” he started. “Yes, yes I know, I was a terrible friend but you’ve got to understand. You’ve got used to being you and like this for... I don’t know how long. You just exposed me to it and I didn’t know how to react. I was stunned and I’m sorry. I didn’t need to take the piss or make you feel as some kind of pervert but, well, sorry but I was surprised and...” He shrugged. “OK, I thought you of all people wouldn’t have had a problem with it. You, out of all the people I know were the one I thought I could rely on to understand. You know me better than just about anybody else...” “But I didn’t know about... that.” I said pointing to his colourful crotch. “However, what, I’ve been here about ten minutes and I think I’ve spent about nine of those minutes being enthralled by the cheeky design and how snug they look.... so, yer, I think I do understand.” “They are lovely to wear.” He said sweeping the palm of his hand of the slippery material. “I’m sure they are but... what are they made out of and where on earth can you buy such stuff?” “Well, they do have a nice plasticky texture, and work really well with a pair of vinyl pants but, if you know where to look you can find just about anything.” He smiled as if he was telling me something I should already be aware of. “There’s something for everyone if they care to look.” “Well, they do look snug so I suppose...” I shrugged whilst he reached into a bag at the side of his chair. Before I knew it I was agreeing to wear a nappy “Just to see for myself”, which I did because I didn’t want to lose Paul’s friendship and it seemed important to him. Although strange, it was like I was being inducted into an exclusive club as I pulled off my pants and slipped into my first disposable since I was around three years old. To say I was nervous, and a little guilty, was an understatement. There was also a feeling that this was all so ridiculous and silly and just plain stupid. That was until I’d worn it for a few minutes. Guess what. I see what he means. They are very comforting to wear, although I don’t think I’ll be showing mine off down the pub. I’ll keep that ‘little secret’ between Paul and me. =======

Beaumont Hall Simon was nine years old when he arrived at Beaumont Hall; it was to be his new place of learning. His father had been made the Ambassador to a new fledgling country in Africa, whilst his mother, the now world renowned scientist Doctor April Garvey, was needed on an endless circuit of lectures. Her book, The Noble Nobel Factor, had proved quite provocative in the field of academia. Simon’s loving father didn’t think it appropriate to drag his son away from England to his new posting, the country was still quite volatile so that had to be taken into account. Although he knew of several private schools in South Africa that had his approval and would have made him a little closer, he definitely wanted an education for his son that would reflect the family’s sensibilities. Meanwhile, his doting mother was unable to prevent the avalanche of both praise and condemnation her book provoked. She knew she had to defend all she claimed and having her son, her sweet adoring son, around would cause problems that could easily be solved. His doting parents enrolled him at the one school they were sure he’d feel safe and secure, the one school they knew he’d settle in without any trauma. Beaumont Hall had a select admittance policy and a fantastic reputation. Although an all-boys establishment, it was run on a benevolent, almost Quaker-style, concept of love, freedom, understanding and personal development. Instead of some aged Latin motto etched in crumbling stonework over the impressive facade was the simple missive – Be kind to one another. Beaumont Hall was similar, yet different, to any other boarding school in the UK. The impressive building had the first stone laid towards the end of Elizabeth the First’s reign, and was the centrepiece of the Beaumont-Saxby Estate. The large imposing structure had over the years been added to, repaired, redeveloped and, against all modern trends adapted to its new life as a place of education. Even the driveway up to the building, through an imposing gated entrance that circled along an avenue of high trees before the Hall was reached, had become a feature of historical, engineering and arboretum note. The estate itself was quite impressive, containing working farms of arable and animal, a couple of villages, stables and a thousand acre forest. The commanding and far reaching estate had in the past a number of important titleholders but, when it was acquired by the Rushforth Education Foundation (REF) in the mid-1990s, the entire estate was targeted at learning and the development of the country’s children. Although it might have seemed it was only educating the off-spring of the rich, this was by no means the case as bursaries were given out to many who could ill afford such exclusive tutorage. This was not the case for Simon Garvey, both of his parents had influence and been involved in this educational project to some degree for many years so his acceptance was a foregone conclusion. The only reason he wasn’t already a boarder at this prestigious place was that his parents were based in London and was educated locally. Now their circumstances had changed, and both parents would be out of the country a great deal of the time, proved an opportunity to send Simon to the place they thought he’d thrive best. # At 10am, the Saturday before the start of a new term, Simon, like the rest of the yearly intake, had been left, after many tears, sad farewells and gentle coercion in the capable care of the teachers and staff at the stately home. He was among five new students who were taking up availability in the Year 4 group, although the school also greeted the latest Year 3 intake. This group of eight year olds boys were just starting their climb up the educational ladder. Rooms were allocated, four students per room; with bed, desk, chair, dresser and cupboard for each individual. Common rooms, entertainment and study areas were dotted around the building although the large dining area was for all students, of all ages, to eat together. Older boys were encouraged to eat with younger pupils and a healthy mix of ages could be found in lively chat during meals. There was nothing formal or regimented for any of the meals the school offered - noise, conversation, friendship and geniality were encouraged. The entire concept of the school was based on a secular vision of the world. So people who sent their children to Beaumont Hall shared that ideal. Behind the ancient edifice was a large modern development of several buildings which contained a swimming pool, indoor sports courts and gym. There were also several playing fields and a race track. Aligned close to the ancient architecture were the newer dormitories that led by covered archways into the greatly refurbished and impressive structure. Here the large ex-servant’s quarters had been revamped and renovated as a dormitory for all first year students who were housed together. Also dotted around the place were staff quarters for those who lived in. The school operated on a boarding basis and pupils arrived at the age of eight and stayed until they were sixteen and had taken their exams. If further education was desired then Universities, colleges or apprenticeships were found for those who wanted such positions. There was also a satellite school on the coast where pupils from 16 to 18 were housed if specialist further education was desired. One of the school’s main principles was that students are responsible for those in the year below. A ‘big brother’, but not in the Orwell sense, was promoted as the way a school should operate. With - Be kind to one another - the simple doctrine, no boy needed to feel left out, bullied or at a disadvantage. It was a creed that worked and every student made it his duty to care for and comfort anyone found in any kind of distress. Beaumont Hall was ahead of its time as a place of excellence with a Utopian flare. # After the new class of eight year olds had been given their induction, shown the large dorm they would all share for the first year, beds allocated and timetables announced it was the turn of the new nine year olds. Being only five newbies the Housemaster was quick to inaugurate the boys to their new routine; two new boys in one room with two returning boys and three in another room sharing with one other. The philosophy of Beaumont Hall was simple - there would always be someone around to show any new boy the ropes or answer any queries. For those in their first year at Beaumont Hall there was always nurse to administer any medication and prepare them for bed. Come bedtime, Simon and the rest of the new arrivals were in for a shock. The policy of the school was all newcomers wore a nappy to sleep in for the first few weeks. This was not to humiliate them, nothing could be further from the truth; the school simply didn’t want them worrying about those first few intimidating nights away from home. “But, but, but I don’t need to wear a nappy, I’m, I’m not a baby I can go to the toilet...” Simon wasn’t alone in his stammered protest as nurse asked them to strip for that first night. # Over the years it had been accepted that the strange surroundings, new people, different procedures and the building itself often produced a daunting atmosphere for the newest members of the faculty. Together with not having familiar items or parents around to placate such fears, these new anxieties often transferred to many of the youngster’s becoming bedwetters. So as not to embarrass those who did succumb to such accidents it was thought best to treat all newcomers the same. With ‘everyone in it together’ there was support and solidarity from each other and the older, more established boys were eager to add their reassurance to the newcomers. No one was subjected to anything but encouragement and assistance. No one needed to feel put upon or at a disadvantage because no boy’s need (or not) of a nappy was made an obstacle to personal development. Despite the numerous protests from among the young voices, many boys found the comfort of a thick nappy the ideal way as coping with the change of being away from home and clung on to its reassuring presence for as long as possible. So, when that first bedtime came around the novices were initially sent to the school nurse and her staff to have a nappy affixed for the night. A pair of soft white vinyl pants covered the thick fabric and a pale blue school onesie was then fastened under their crotch to hold everything together. Everyone was dressed the same, so looked the same, so no one could complain or be at an advantage. A few of the new boys objected and complained that they were potty-trained and would have no problem. However, that argument was not entertained for the first month as all the boys were treated the same and absolutely no stigma attached to this process. The system proved correct as many new boys woke up to a soaked nappy but thankfully, a dry bed. There was no criticism for those who used their nappies just positive reinforcement from the nurses that they were good boys and should be proud of themselves. It was to every boy’s credit that after the first couple of days of perhaps resenting such action, they inevitably settled down and accepted this rule. It could be because the ambience in general was of calm and unifying commitment to each other. As the boys bedtime approached, games and TV watching was slowly reduced so that their brains were not still hectic when the lights went out. Soft, relaxing music was played to lull minds and promote sleep. A minimum of ten hours was the required amount for each pupil. Even the older boys found the routine benefited their concentration levels and few flouted their age-related bedtime rule. However, and this was what was perhaps unique about the school, nappies could be worn by anyone at any time. There were no hang-ups or detrimental accusations or comments for anyone who preferred to keep the comfort found by such an item. It was another of those progressive and possibly counter-intuitive factors that the school had discovered over the relatively brief time it had been in operation; there was a wonderful security in wearing a nappy that students of all ages appreciated. This was made abundantly clear because each and every toilet always had a pile of fresh, clean nappies, plastic pants, wipes, creams and powder available for any person who wanted them. A nappy pail was also there to ease disposal of any soiled article. The school had a uniform – navy blue shorts, pale blue shirt, school tie, pale blue socks and black shoes. All boys wore shorts until they became a teenager. At thirteen, on their birthday, they could, had they been supplied by their parents, decide to wear long trousers. It was one of those points when a young lad felt that he was growing up and needed the psychological boost such a piece of clothing might provide. However, even though long trousers were allowed, it was perhaps more interesting that even the eldest students often choose to continue their education wearing shorts. For some it was an act of bravado, for others it was clinging to their youthful spirit and for others it was simply a preference and quite practical - it was common to outgrow long pants before it was a pair of shorts. Whatever the reason, and whether a boy wore shorts or long trousers, no one thought any better or worse because of what you wore or the reasons behind it. It was not unusual to see a thick nappy and plastic protection visible above the waistband of even the eldest student. It also had to be admitted that nappies and shorts were worn by a large minority of students well after their need for them. It was also not uncommon to see groups of every age playing and socialising together. The only area where this was perhaps less obvious were in school sports where it wouldn’t have been physically appropriate to have a seven year-old battling with a sixteen year-old. However, where possible integration was the key word and the school had an excellent reputation for producing athletes and sportsmen up to semi and professional level. One of the reasons for this was the encouragement of all boys to find an outlet for their youthful exuberance. Sport, theatre and music were the main beneficiaries but so were engineering, carpentry, farming and cooking. It had an active and popular environmental group called The Beaumont Boys, a cross between scouting, orienteering and community involvement, where boys were taught how social interaction was a way forward and of benefit to any profession they ended going in to. It wasn’t unknown for groups of shorts-clad boys in their identifiable school colours, leading the clean-up campaign on the sea shore, river banks or public woodland. A village or organisation would smile in relief if they were told that a group of Beaumont Boys were on their way, it meant that things would get done quickly and efficiently. They were always a welcome addition to any activity. # Like the rest of the newcomers Simon thought this all very strange but, as his parents had said how wonderful the place was, he went along with it all. Getting ready for that first night and that first nappy had been quite an occasion. He wasn’t alone in his trepidation but roomy Alex, who’d been there a year, and who still preferred to wear protection, promised that if he just went along with it, he’d soon see the benefits. That first night was weird but as many of the boys had changed into their night time protection before lights out, socialising in their onesies was not uncommon. As all ages were allowed to wear the same... the common rooms were a place where worries, fear and shyness were quickly turned on their heads. There may have been some concern to begin with, in fact, the newbies huddled together for support, but once they saw that everyone was alike it was amazing how quickly they integrated. It helped that there was a cheery word of welcome for all. Some of the younger boys still had their security teddy bears or stuffed animals with them and there was no disgrace to be seen walking around carrying it. In fact, later in the first school term there was an evening ‘teddy-bears’ picnic and everyone was encouraged to bring along their bedtime friend to join in a night of fun, food and games. This wasn’t restricted to the first year... and it was amazing just how many of the boys had kept (and loved) their childhood companions. Many social events; treasure hunts, karaoke contests, sports days, camps out, night sky observations and off course all the usual holiday and festive events were covered. If these took place after the evening meal then all boys were got ready for bed before the communal fun and frolics began. This was so the nursing staff could also take part, which meant that fresh nappies often billowed out from tight onesies. As it was the same for everyone... it didn’t make the slightest difference. Hardly a week went by without something being organised to amuse and engage every student. Each event was always fun and entertaining. # Although nervous to begin with Simon soon settled into the rhythm of school. As it turned out, the implementation of nappy wearing for all newcomers had proved to be a wise directive because half the first graders woke up wet or soiled and three of the five second graders (of whom Simon was one) also woke up experiencing a very sodden nappy. Even those who managed to stay dry that first night were glad that they had some protection as they felt more secure in such strange surroundings. None of the boys were made to feel in anyway disadvantaged by their experience. Indeed, there was a great deal of support from older pupils also getting their soggy morning nappies changed by the experienced nursing staff. Of course, the nappies were aimed mainly for night time security and, once cleaned up, should they want to return to wearing padding no one thought any worse if that was the path taken. It was a regular sight, observing boys walking back to their rooms wearing thick padding and plastic or rubber pants. The school uniform was worn to breakfast after which the boys had fifteen minutes before lessons began. Simon opted for safety in these new, strange surroundings so wore a thick nappy and sparkling white shiny plastic pants under his shorts. He felt comforted and because everyone was so friendly, couldn’t wait to start the term in this innovative and exciting environment. Of course, as a nine year old, he didn’t actually see it in those terms. What he did feel was this place was special and although, on that first weekend he was unsure, the friendliness of the place made it easy to forget any of his preliminary worries. Thoughts of his busy parents fleetingly stayed with him and the regrets of not being with them also short-lived. He soon found his life was full of excitement and surprises, fun and learning, friendship and socialising, he hardly had a minute to himself that didn’t engage him in something of interest or entertainment. When he arrived at his first lesson he was happily surprised to discover he wasn’t the only boy who had chosen to wear protection. About half of the twenty boys he would be studying with had also gone for that option. As the day progressed, and he saw more and more boys out and about, moving from lesson to lesson, or playing out during the breaks he noticed that probably 90% of all the older boys wore shorts and of them, perhaps 50% wore undisguised padding. As he looked around at the noisy but happy group of students he was pleased his parents had decided on this place. He’d never been to such a friendly school before where even the teachers were sociable and joined in with the kid’s conversations and games. No matter how shy or reticent no child was left on their own, or left out of any proceedings. Everyone had a voice and encouraged to make it heard. It was a place where making friends was easy, in fact, it was one of the top commendations to all students. Any competition between various groups was kept to the sports field but then whether winners or losers, all were back together to celebrate. Education was fun, with time to explore and discuss rather than repeat and remember. Creative development was also high on the list of priorities, where even the youngest boys were encouraged to show their fledgling talent. The entire system of Beaumont Hall was to help create, guide and encourage each pupil’s innate personal power; to achieve what was best for them rather than fill the needs of an arbitrary curriculum. Self-motivation was also encouraged but not at the expense of anyone else... the bonding of all the boys to each other and under the care and direction of the school was unique and rarely repeated in any other educational establishment. Night time nappies and morning changes were social rather than embarrassing affairs where everyone was equal. The staff was encouraging, efficient but above all, friendly. No one got special treatment - no one got a different nappy (except if extra protection was called for) but there was a choice of covers if you had a preference or allergic to a certain material. Simon woke up each morning, and whether wet or not, was instantly excited about the day ahead... he knew it would be brilliant. That was the thing about Beaumont Hall the motto said everything - Be kind to one another - and he’d found a place where that was a code everyone lived by. Of course, not everyone wore a nappy. Other than the induction period the boys were allowed to wear what they found comfortable. However, it was true that over the years a preference for thick protection and the wearing of shorts had become a sort of badge of honour. Those who were lucky enough to be educated at Beaumont Hall wore their unique uniform with pride because of what the school and its academic and social awareness generated. Being a pupil at Beaumont Hall did set you apart from any other educational institution and the uniform was part of that. There was little vanity in a teenager wearing shorts when they had the option to wear long trousers. There was little vanity in wearing padding at any age past being a toddler. Yet the ethos of the school meant that despite these possible barriers, the pupils had decided what they thought was best for them and adopted the uniform you now see. No one was made to wear shorts except as part of the under thirteen’s dress uniform... to everyone else it was a choice. It was choice that made the school so important. It was choice that made the students that bit more independent. It was choice that equipped everyone with the knowledge that a boy can achieve anything... even if he does so whilst wearing a nappy. Many ex-pupils who achieved fame and fortune were thankful for what Beaumont Hall offered. It had helped in social interaction with others setting them apart from their peers from some of the more, expensive, privileged and self-aggrandised public schools. It was not unheard of that the love of protection and the security such padding offered was also not something that was jettisoned by many of the school’s students. As Simon would find out over his stay, the feeling such an item instilled was an elusive yet comforting factor throughout his school years. Nappies, though not for everyone and often frowned upon by some were, as far as students who had been educated at Beaumont Hall, an actual positive in their lives and one that they chose not to give up easily... if at all. #####

Mum Today had been annoying. Usually, I’m happy at work but today, well, it was all so niggly and bity... things not happening when it should or people not doing what they should when they should. It was that type of day. As manager of the team it is my responsibility to make it all work but I was at the mercy of others incompetence or lack of knowledge. Anyway, I got most of it sorted but it was all very frustrating and hectic. However, Friday night means a nice long weekend where I can relax, compose myself and spend a few hours totally absorbed in ME. Even though it was after 9pm when I eventually got home the moment I walked through the door of my flat I had it planned. Strip, bath and lovely long soak before doing what I was going to do. My new bedding had arrived a couple of days earlier but I’d been so busy I hadn’t had time to sort it out... so actually, that had to be my first job as that would lead nicely into the other bits of my planned weekend. A week or so earlier, in a moment of juvenile and giddy excitement, I’d noticed the Matalan store was selling fleecy duvet covers in their sale. I’d actually seen a review of them and one comment was “... it’s like sleeping with a big teddy bear, all soft and welcoming. 5*s” so I was sold. Anyway, I’d ordered a grey fitted bottom sheet and two matching pillowcases and a bright yellowy/mustardy coloured duvet cover with two matching pillowcases and when I’d fitted them to my bed... man it did indeed look welcoming. I ran my hand over the fleecy softness and whoever wrote the review was spot on... it instantly reminded me of the teddy bear I had as a child. Loads of memories came flooding back and that’s just what I intended. ***** I ran the bath and stripped out of my work clothes, hung up the suit but put everything else in the laundry basket for tomorrow’s big wash. I inspected myself in the full-length mirror seeing if at twenty-four I’d started to deteriorate physically. I mean the job isn’t anything that should wear my body out, it’s fairly sedentary but I was the youngest manager in the company so had a lot of responsibility and the need to keep proving that I was the right person for the job. When I was made manager there were quite a few doubts expressed by the Executive Directors about my ‘youth’. I needed to prove that I could cope, and not only cope, but excel at whatever they threw at me – thankfully, so far so good but that pressure was non-stop. I looked at myself in profile, not bad. I’m five foot nine, short black hair, reasonably good-looking (but who’s to say?). So far, not getting chubby but that was down to the fact that I only ate once a day and more or less lived on protein shakes and vitamin drinks. Skin was tight on my body and in general everywhere was firm without being too muscular. Before I took this job I played five-a-side footy a couple of times a week and squash at the weekends so I had a sporty side. Alas, work now occupied almost all of my time and, if I got a free weekend, I wanted to spend it winding down not getting exhausted. Even though I tried to deny it, I knew I’d got my priorities wrong. However, once on the corporate ladder, and at an early age, climbing down and finding other work that paid so well, would have been all but impossible. The hours were long but I was still proving myself to any doubters. So, to mix metaphors, the greasy pole was there for me to climb and I’d embarked on getting to the top. Anyway, I could hear the water still running so stopped this self-evaluation and made my way to the bathroom. On weekdays I get a morning shower but on Friday night (when possible) I liked to indulge myself in a long hot (very hot) soak with bubbles and assorted scents. It may have smelled like a whore’s boudoir but it helped me relax and dissolve away the week’s complications. ***** I breathlessly slid under the foam as my body tried to get used to the heat. I think even a lobster would have complained and not just about the bubbles. Then I got the giggles thinking how heartless it would be to cook a lobster in a scented bath, trying to get it to relax before dipping its lovely meat in liquefied butter - mmm my mouth watered at the prospect. Stupid head... but at least I wasn’t thinking of work but starting to have fun. I closed my eyes and let the heat permeate every inch of my body. The bubble bath made my skin silky and soft and after a slow but methodical sponge everywhere, I settled back down to let the soothing unguents do their work. I keep my hair short and have a strange dislike for facial hair of any kind. This isn’t a new thing; ever since I started growing hair ‘down there’ I always thought it looked untidy so why on earth would anyone want a face that looked like your pubes? At school I was one of the last to sprout a pubic display but when it kicked in, it seemed to take over. A couple of years ago, as a treat to myself, I had electrolysis and it has more or less left me permanently smooth, which as it turns out, is ideal. I raised my hips from the bath to watch the water part and the soft mound of dick and ball-sack rise through the suds. Not for the first time I thought what a lovely thing to have, the pleasure it can bring and the occasional demands it makes. I was looking forward to giving it something else it craved as soon as I dried myself off. For the moment though I intended to soak for as long as I could before the water became uncomfortably tepid. ***** Once out of the bath I dry myself slowly but thoroughly, getting into every crease and crevice, making sure there is no excess water anywhere. Then I get to the main event; the special soothing lotion that I spread gently but liberally around my groin. It has a warming note, as well as a special blend of sandalwood, highly refined botanical lipids, almond oil and vanilla. It’s a luxury I can afford and is composed especially for me. My groin feels baby soft and luxurious, without hair it doesn’t clump or pool it spreads evenly... even my arsehole benefits from a good mollified fingering. Once I let that soak in I sprinkle a little powder, a light talc because I just love that smell before I venture over to my dresser and take out the special, thick and colourful disposable that’s going to accompany me to bed tonight. Reverently I fluff the cute plastic backed material to give it chance of air to expand that little more. Cheeky cartoon animals are grinning at me and I’m grinning back, I simply cannot wait to have it snugly wrapped around me and taped into place. Now you may be wondering – Friday night, 24, good-looking and he’s taking a bath and putting on a nappy, what the hell is wrong with this guy? Well, let me explain. I don’t care. You do what you like and I’ll do what I like and trying to pick up someone in a noisy bar, drinking with people I wouldn’t want anywhere near me and being social... not my scene at all. I like my own company and more so, like the comfort and fantasy I can indulge in when I wear a nice bit of padding. As a kid mum always made sure that my padding was thick to avert any ‘preventable accidents’, which meant the bulge was substantial but, as that was how I was always wrapped when I wore a nappy, I just got on with it. Perhaps I should also tell you that I had potty issues until I was nearly eight years old. When I eventually managed to get to the toilet on time mum said that just to make sure, I still wore a nappy to bed every night until I was ten. Again, as it was something that she said I needed though I don’t remember wetting often during that time, I suppose it was necessary to have that safety net. Anyway, now I live on my own I was able to indulge in something I’d missed for a while when I lived at home. Mum and dad are both loving parents but once I’d gotten out of wearing protection I never went back. We all seemed happy that part of my childhood was behind me and I moved on happily into my teenage years. However, as I got older and started work I found myself craving the return to nappies and disposables. For a while this was something I tried to ignore. I couldn’t contemplate the reaction from my parents had I indulged myself so, when I eventually got a job and the raise that went with promotion, I found a little flat on the other side of town to my parents and began to slowly feed that need I’d been desperately trying to subdue. Of course, after that first night I opened the bag of disposables and put one on, that was it. I was hooked so, over time, I’ve made it into something special. Something I only indulge in at most, once a week but when I do... YEEESSSSS! ***** The bath had thankfully completely relaxed me and the dreadful day was now suitably in the past and I could spoil myself properly. The soothing oil had soaked in nicely and the sweet scented talc wafted in my bedroom’s air giving the most satisfying of atmospheres. Subdued lighting made it so I could relax but still see what I was doing as now the fluffed out disposable had gained some volume I inserted a couple of bamboo soaker pads to fill it out even more. At last I get to touch the pretty, colourful, childishly-emblazoned, yet erotically charged disposable my brain had been forming in my brain. It isn’t just the touch of course, but the entire sensual nature of the folds of fabric wrapped in a plastic coating and driving the sensuous nature of what I’m about to do. I wait a moment; savouring the luxurious physical way my body is anticipating that instant when expectancy is flooded by reality. I slowly slip myself onto the soft buffer of fabric and ease myself into position. I’ve done this many, many times but the ethereal nature, the building excitement, the absolute pleasure comes when I fasten the two sticky tapes tightly on to the plastic surface and we become one. That shiver, that mind-blowing phenomenal miracle that such a simple item my body and my super-euphoric brain has created immediately sends me into sexual meltdown. It’s no good trying to hold back because this is the start of a night given over to complete and utter pleasure. A pleasure, I contend, is matched by very little... well for me anyway. My body pumps the effect directly into the waiting bamboo; I’ll need the extra padding because my intention is to pump all night until I cannot pump any more. That first release is so damn satisfying and I can feel it trickle around my cock, greasing it up for the next spurt of orgasmic sustenance. I lay exhausted and slowly close my eyes imagining in my head what my next explosion will feature... except... ***** I wake up and it’s daylight. The sun is streaming in through my bedroom window and I’m laid on the top of my bed looking down at the large, but hardly used, bulky disposable I was so intent on demolishing with my... erm, um... what’s this? A cup of coffee, with a gentle spiral of steam coming off it, is on my bedside table. What the f*** # tbc #

Poster Boy Baby Peter’s bedroom was a tribute to what the sweet guy was all about. Above his bed was a large poster of Bizzie TM, the Fairy Baby complete with large fluffy nappy. Around the walls were equally strident posters of adverts for nappies, plastic pants and other assorted paraphernalia from both ancient and modern campaigns for such products. Black and white Staydry plastic pants and Empire Waterproof Baby Pants adverts were lined up against colourful Racing Car Diapers and Pampers ads. Every available space said that this room was for a baby, a bed-wetter and a lover of nappies, Peter Noble was all of these. Peter had been a bed-wetter all his life. Over his twenty-five years his family searched for a solution to his problem but throughout his childhood, teenage years and now into his early twenties, both found nothing to stop the nightly (and often daily) soaked nappy. The thing was, Peter had become infatuated with the advertising and messaging that various companies had used over the years. That obsession turned into an emotional and physical turn-on and that led to totally accepting his need for protection. + Around the age of seven he was found to be autistic, which the doctors at the time said explained his continued bed-wetting. He had other internal social and mental problems that made getting on with people difficult and trusting anyone almost impossible. By the age of ten he’d more or less mentally locked himself away and it was only through his searching the net and finding all these advertisements, slogans and pictures that he began to come out of his shell. Something reverberating in his brain made them not only appealing but a sort of explanation... perhaps one only he understood. The images of babies and baby products sort of struck a chord with his own identification as a little boy who needed a nappy because if he didn’t wear one he’d wet everywhere. A nappy was safety and security so therefore his best friend... closely followed by his blankie, teddy and binkie. As he got older those iconic illustrations from features and commercials on the subject made him identify with all that they offered, so found them both calming and instructive. Now, as a twenty-something, although officially an adult he preferred to replicate those styles depicted in adverts. His nappies were thick, disposables colourful, plastic pants childish and fun, clothes juvenile though ultimately wonderfully comfortable. He loved the life he’d created and surprisingly, could function quite well with that look. To begin with his parents, and even a few doctors, had tried to dissuade him from clinging to that childlike approach. They soon found that denying him access brought out a sullen and very negative Peter. He would cry, throw tantrums and stop breathing, all of which was of no benefit to letting him be himself. It took a while but eventually those who were supposed to look after him realised their mistake and supported his own personality traits. As a result, he was happier and therefore his carers were also less stressed. + He’s now online and explains his autism through photographs and posts about his life. He encourages others who are like him and has become something of a poster boy to many who see themselves and their own autism as no longer a weakness or failing... simply because he doesn’t. He’s wants to remove any shame from autism spectrum disorder (ASD) and hopes that his many followers gain some hope if they are feeling down and pride in who and what they are. He’s an absolute beacon for those who have been placed on a spectrum (that can take in any number of conditions), but are able to see how he functions well by using age regression as a coping mechanism. He answers questions honestly and openly, which of course leaves him vulnerable but, what he does is important so puts that fact above any personal abuse or negativity. His bedroom may have the look of a child’s nursery, and maybe it smells of baby powder and urine but everyone can see it’s where he’s happiest... and after all... isn’t that the point. Our Poster Boy is a champion in nappies. (With thanks to all those who post photographs, blogs and information on autism and beyond)

Re-Start The smell of warm stale urine filled my nostrils, another night and another wet bed... that was the twelfth in a row. Actually, it was the eleventh, I’d had a piss-free night two nights ago but obviously it hadn’t lasted. For too many mornings now I’d woken (and I use that term loosely) up to find that I’d become a bed wetter. When you’re almost twenty this can, and did, come as a bit of a shock. Recently my sleep patterns have been all over the place and I’d say I more often than not merely dozed my way through the night hours. I put it down to the fact I was simply not getting enough sleep. My mind had become the receptacle for rubbish. For instance, I remember on that first night I suddenly got it into my head – How would a three year-old stand for Parliament? Stupid question I know but the thought swamped my mind and I just couldn’t let it go. Even when I tried to distract my thoughts with music, TV or reading (no less disruptive to my sleep patterns), eventually it came back to that same question and my mind would be in turmoil trying to figure out an answer. That was the first morning I woke up to a wet bed and that was just the start of my long troubled nights. I couldn’t get to sleep no matter how hard I tried some kind of nonsense mind-worm (the thinking man’s earworm) was working away and stopping me from getting comfortable in my own bed. ‘How long is a million seconds?’ Yes, that little mind-worm was the next to invade my head as I tried desperately to find sleep. It wasn’t that I wanted to know. I mean, I don’t care and yet, the question wouldn’t let me lie. I tossed and turned, pushed blankets off and pulled them back up when my legs felt cold. I lay on my front, side, back and the other side but could find no position comfortable without that irrelevant question battling in my head. I picked up a bedside book and read hoping that diversion would be enough. After ten minutes and a chapter later I thought it safe to return and try to settle down. I think I managed to drop off before my dream merged with reality and I began to think what I’d do if I wet the bed. I had no idea where this thought came from but suddenly realised that stupid thought had become a reality and I was soaked. Oh shit two nights running... Oh, and by the way in the end I had to look it up. Answer: One million seconds is 11 days, 13 hours 46 minutes and 40 seconds # I knew about ear-worms, when a piece of music lodges in your brain and you simply can’t think of anything else but this was more annoying... but had the same result. The next night my demented pre-sleep thought was – I wonder how long it would take me to count up to a million. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5... No this is stupid, you can’t start... However, the idea has been planted and the brain is saying to give it a go. 1,2,3,4... (why was I trying to count quickly?) What was annoying about this is that because I hadn’t got much sleep the night before I’d gone to bed early. I thought I was tired but that bloody million count was plaguing me and I simply couldn’t shake it. Although, every time I looked at the clock, there had been a passage of time, I’d never quite fallen asleep, merely thought how ridiculous it would be to try and count to a million. It would be the stupidest of things to do to try and count – 1, 2, 3... The alarm was set as usual for seven o’clock so that blast of heavy rock woke me up with a start. So, although I must have fallen asleep at some point I didn’t feel I had slept at all. Then the surprise - not only was I sopping again but I was so tired I felt sleep had eluded me. Another morning with piss soaked into my bed, undies and sheets was a bloody awful way to start the day. Laundry facilities were not easily available as I was living in a bedsit and the nearest laundromat was a bus ride away but thankfully there was one near work. The idea of carrying pee-soaked stuff on the bus made sure I avoided doing so until I had no choice. By then my bedsit smelled a bit and even wrapped in a couple of plastic bin-bags there was no denying what I was carrying. I just had to bluff it out and pretend it wasn’t me. # Now I have to admit that I had slight (very slight) urinary problems before. I mean, I’d like to be able to say this was all new to me but in fact, when I was younger, I’d also occasionally needed a little padding. Not a great deal I must emphasise, however, leaks did happen but my thicker cotton underpants were able to keep embarrassing stains from public disapproval. Since I was little, a toddler in fact, and had grown out of having to wear a nappy, my little briefs still had a job to do. What I mean by that is... I could get to the toilet with no trouble; negotiate getting my willy free of my pants and pointing it in the right direction was OK. The problem I had was, no matter how much time I spent making sure every drop was where it should be, in the toilet, no matter how long I shook my tiddler to make sure no drops remained; as soon as I tucked it away there would be a little extra involuntary spurt, which took me by surprise. I wore slightly damp and stained underpants for years. An under-developed urinary tract had been the diagnosis and, as I got older, had been kept in reasonable check by medication. I stopped taking the medication a year or so ago and found that I didn’t need it because the leakage stopped and all was well... that is up until now. The problem is I have no idea why my brain seems to have changed from ‘no worries’ to worrying about every bloody thing, including how long it takes to count to a million. It makes no sense but my mind is full of this stuff nearly all the time, especially when I try to go to sleep. Here’s another one: How many balloons does it take to lift a human? This little query had my brain working on the principle that in the movie ‘UP’ it took loads of balloons to lift a house so... My head felt like it would explode trying to work out a problem I didn’t WANT to know the answer to. # I’d moved from my family home to this city to be near my girlfriend. She was going to be at university here and I didn’t like the idea of a long distance relationship so got a job with a well-known tyre repair shop not too far away from her campus. It’s a busy place and operates from 8.30am to 6pm six days a week and from 10am to 4pm on Sunday. It does more than just change tyres and so is incredibly demanding. There’s always a line of cars waiting from the moment we open and then it’s non-stop throughout the day... tyres, exhausts, wheel balancing, batteries, MOTs... you get the drift. You don’t get much time for a chat that’s for certain. Anyway, I moved about six months ago and actually really like the job, but a couple of months back the girlfriend called time on us. Without saying the actual words, it basically came down to the fact that she’d met someone in one of her lectures, they had so much more in common, and I was no longer needed... she could (and had) done better. The realisation that I was thick and no longer suitable boyfriend material must have hit me in a way I didn’t understand (naturally). So perhaps that’s why I think these thoughts - thinking them important and what University goers think about... I could be wrong. Anyway, I was here now and I didn’t think our paths would cross that often in a town this size so I thought I’d ‘just get on with it’ – a recommendation I always give myself when faced with a task. “Don’t think about it, just get on with it and get it done.” The thing is I don’t know how to stop the sudden night-time urination. I mean, I don’t even know I’m doing it until I wake up but, and this is the annoying part (as well as the smell and the moist undies) I don’t feel I sleep at all. It makes for incredibly long nights so it’s no wonder I’m always so damned tired. Anyway, the irony was, if indeed it was irony, the tyre firm didn’t put up with me being tired at work and fired me. # Without a job I had no money and was unable to stay where I was living. Jobs seemed few and far between and my boss refused to give me a gleaming reference so for the moment I was stuck. That was until mum said I should return home and she’d look after me. I told her I wasn’t a little kid but she said that didn’t matter what I needed right then and there was someone to care and a mummy (yes she used the word MUMMY, which I knew she was saying just to tease me but still felt a little weird) knew best how to care for her son. As it turned out, the landlord sent me packing after he’d had complaints about the smell of piss drifting into next door’s bedsit. I tried to convince him it was the plumbing but he called my bluff and said it was mine that needed sorting. So, I had little option but accept mum’s offer. Now, despite my best efforts at being a grown-up, I was twenty after all, I arrived home carrying all my belongings and a good proportion of which stunk of piss. Mum took one look (actually just a quick smell) and dumped my sheets and piss-stained clothes straight in the rubbish. The shake of her head as she tutted and looked me up and down made me feel like I did when a toddler and had accidentally wet myself. Oh hell, I think that stain on my pants might be fairly recent. “You young man,” she looked through the rest of my ill-packed cases, “are not equipped to deal with being on your own... and why is everything soaked for heaven’s sake I thought we were past all this?” She already knew that I’d been dumped by my girlfriend because that happened a few weeks ago and I’d told her but hadn’t explained why I’d been sacked. I really had a lot to tell mum but didn’t know how to go about it because it sounded so dumb and juvenile. I mean, not sleeping because you’re thinking of stupid problems... which leads to a wet bed... well, it’s just... childish. However, mum said she’d missed me whilst I’d been away and was happy to have me back. Even though I’d only been gone a few months my room had been changed. Despite my age, I’d left my bedroom like that of a teenager as I’d been too lazy (and too poor) to change the single bed, my football duvet cover or the posters on the wall. Now the walls were bare, my single bed was just a mattress and looked naked and empty, the furniture had been re-jigged a little and a lick of paint had made it seem quite clinical. At least mum hadn’t made it her sewing den as threatened. However, now I was back, and thanked mum profusely for letting me return, I promised that I’d find a job and sort myself out. She just hugged me and said “Welcome home sweetheart but first things first... if you’re staying then there will be some new rules”. ####