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  1. I had inspiration for a one-off today, so I wrote it. Enjoy. __________________ The Talk Honey, could you come downstairs please? We need to talk … You’re not in trouble, but we need to have a little chat. There you are. Come sit next to me. Did I tell you you’re looking handsome today? Cuz you are. O, don’t roll your eyes at me. I know you’re perpetually embarrassed by your stepmom, but you’re eighteen, a little old to still be blushing every time I give you a compliment. Here’s another compliment: I’m proud of you. You’re doing so well at school, and you’re adjusting so well. You even followed the no-pants at home rule without my even reminding you today. I know it’s silly to you, but it really helps me keep an eye on your diapers. Speaking of, lemme check … Just as I thought, damp but you don’t need a change. And clean too. And don’t go making your pouty face. I can see when you’re wet and I can usually smell when you’re messy, but I can’t always tell if you’re wet enough to need changed, and sometimes you have those small poopy accidents, and I can’t tell if you passed gas or just made a very small mess, or if you’re about to make a much bigger mess in your diaper. That’s why sometimes when you’re poopy you have to wait for a change, so I can make sure you’re all done. But that’s not what I wanted to talk about. I wanted to talk about how you’re doing such a good job adjusting to being back in diapers. Remember when I first put you back in diapers, how hard you cried? I didn’t cry because I wanted to be brave for you, but I was crying on the inside because when you’re not happy, I’m not happy. That’s what it’s like being a mom, even a stepmom and even when her baby is eighteen. You cried so hard I thought my heart would break for you. And then the tantrums, o my gosh. All that yelling about how you don’t need diapers and your accidents weren’t that bad and how you’re a grownup and can make your own choices. But you never stopped me from changing your pampers or ever took them off on your own, and that told me you knew deep down you need your diapers and that I’d made the right choice by not giving you a choice. I’m just so glad you stopped having those tantrums before I had to spank your bottom. It's been almost two years since your last spanking. You hated it so much then and went on and on about how you were too old for it. Remember how you would argue you were too big even when you were over my lap, and you’d keep arguing right up until the first spank? Then the sniffling and the tears. I didn’t like spanking your bottom then, and I didn’t want to have to start doing it again. Imagine how you’d feel thinking your spanking days were behind you and then getting turned over my knee, having your wet diaper pulled down, and having your stepmom spank your bare fanny until you were a sniffling, crying mess with your feet kicking and your nose running just like when you were little. Just imagine yourself as technically an adult, coming off your stepmommy’s lap holding your little red bottom and doing the spanky dance from foot to foot with your privates on display but too worried about your sore bottom to even think to be modest. Don’t think it can’t still happen by the way, but I hope your spanking days are over just like you do. Imagine how your diapers would hold in the heat of your spanking. With how often you’re wetting, I wouldn’t even be able to put you in the corner bare bottom anymore. I’d have to diaper you again right away and it would keep your poor bottom so warm, and anybody visiting would be able to see your spanked red thighs peeking out from under your diaper, as if you in the corner sniffling and with those big tear streaks on your face wouldn’t tell them you’d just gotten off stepmommy’s lap. Anyway, I’m so glad just the threat of a spanking, and a few warning swats to your bottom, were enough to put a stop to those tantrums. I think you’d pee all over me during your spankings, but more importantly, I never liked having to spank your bottom no matter how naughty your choices were. We’re both lucky those few spanks I gave you when you were legs up on the changing table finally got through: let stepmommy do what’s best for you, put you back into diapers, or you’d be in for one heckuva trip over my knee for a bare bottom spanking with my hand and hairbrush. But phew! No need for that kind of discipline, and you’re doing so well adjusting not just at home but at school. Remember your first week back at school in diapers? That very first day, we went to the nurse’s office to drop off your diapers and changing supplies. You were so upset because the diapers wouldn’t fit in any bag we had, and you had to carry the two packages through the hallways. If I was embarrassed for you to be back in diapers, I can only imagine how you must’ve felt walking past all your schoolmates and teachers. Nurse Jenny was very nice about it all. She wanted you back in diapers two years ago because of your accidents, but I kept saying you’d get past it, that the doctors would figure it out and I didn’t want to hurt your self-esteem by putting you back in pampers like I was giving up on you ever using the potty again. Nurse Jenny tried to tell me how much worse for your self-esteem it must be having accidents in your pants that everyone could see, but I thought I knew best. Three outfits a day you were going through before we tried pull-ups, and those were so leaky you were still coming home in different pants than I sent you to school in. And socks, and sometimes even shoes. Remember how icky it felt when your weewee accidents would run down your legs into your shoes? Poor little lamb. It was your stinky accidents that changed my mind. I tried to tell myself they were one-offs, but Nurse Jenny was adamant. I still didn’t believe it, and I felt sorry for her having to help you clean up after those times you messed your goodnites, but I thought I was doing what was best for you. Even if, as you and I learned too many times, goodnites just aren’t made to hold the kinds of accidents a big kid – sorry, young adult – like you can have in them. Dirty pull-ups, dirty pants … Let’s face it: dirty diapers are much better, if we’re grading on a curve. Cleanup on someone your size isn’t easy, heaven knows, but much easier to clean up your dirty diapers. At least everything usually stays in your diaper. Blowouts happen – heaven and everyone else shopping at Walmart that day knows that too – but more stinky accidents than not were blowouts when you were having them in your goodnites. It was almost as bad as when you browning your tighty whiteys twice a day. Bottoming out your huggies is, well, not convenient, but more convenient, don’t you think? Of you course you do. And hasn’t Nurse Jenny been so nice? She didn’t get cross when you disobeyed her and she had to go pull you out of class to change your diaper even though you knew to go to her when you needed changed. Remember what the three of us talked about? … That’s right: your diapers can’t help you if you don’t get them changed. They’re not any better than your tighty whiteys if you sit in class until they’re sopping wet cuz you're afraid someone will wonder why you’re leaving class and don’t need to ask permission, or if they hear your crinkling or see you waddling. You’ve even learned to walk in your diapers with barely any waddling at all unless they’re soaked or full. You don’t even cry anymore when you need to go see Nurse Jenny. Yes, she told me about how you’d shown up at her office door sniffling those first few days, wearing such a sad frown almost pleading to get you into something dry and clean. And I know you don’t like the way she baby talks to you during your diaper changes, but if it helps her get through a yucky job, more power to her. Besides, she sent me a video of one of your changes like I asked her to, and I don’t think her baby talk was over the top or too embarrassing. You are a much tush huggy fudger at least twice and usually three times a day. There’s no use denying it, and you may have been pouting in that video and trying to look all grumpy and grown up, but I saw how you giggled and squirmed when she tickled your sides and blew that great big raspberry on your tummy. No use denying that you liked it. That’s why I started doing it at home. You can’t hide the little squees and smiles you make when I tickle your tummy any more than you can hide what you do in your diapers. And isn’t baby talk better than awkward silence like you have something to be ashamed of? Because you don’t. You have nothing to be ashamed of. You can’t help your accidents. That’s why you’re back in diapers, like a toddler who could be potty trained but for whatever reason isn’t it, except you’re an adult. And that’s okay, and you now that now, and I’m proud. And you’re doing so well socially. I know it was hard at first, but it did take longer for word to get around that you were back in diapers. You said it would happen by lunch time that first day, but it took the whole day … Yes, that is a meaningful difference. Trust me, I know these things. That’s why I’m the stepmommy. A few people saw you carrying them into school, but I suspect a lot of people thought that was just a rumor when word started to get around. Then you had that leak in class when you didn’t go to Nurse Jenny. Most of your classmates thought it was just another one of your accidents, and they were used to those. I bet the girls who babysit must’ve recognized those two half-moons on your cheeks as a leaky diaper. Nothing else leaves wet spots like those except huggies that just can’t hold anymore, but they didn’t know for sure. But it wasn’t until gym … Don’t make that grumpy face with me. We’ve been over this. I know the school would have excused you from gym, but you need the exercise, and if you have to take gym, you have to change for it. It’s not my fault there’s nowhere private for you to change for gym. Anyway, it wasn’t until gym that the rumors were confirmed. Remember how upset you were? I had to come up to school just to calm you down, sitting in the coach’s office until you stopped crying. My boss wasn’t happy – so much missed work leaving work to bring you fresh clothes, but when I explained our new solution, she agreed anything I needed to do to get you used to your new “underpants” would make me a better, more productive worker in the long term … I’m not verbally putting quotations marks around “underpants” when I refer to your diapers as “underpants.” You always say I do that, and I don’t have any idea what you mean. Anyway, when your new “underpants,” became common knowledge, and you had a good cry with me about how embarrassing it was and how it was even more embarrassing that everyone knew you were in coach’s office crying with your stepmom cuz everyone saw your new “underpants” and you felt like such a baby, I said it would al turn out okay, and I was right, wasn’t I? Of course I was. I know there are bullies who still tease you, but almost everyone in the whole school knew about your accidents already. So many accidents – big ones, small ones, wet ones, stinky ones – it was common knowledge you had them. I’d be at the beauty parlor and one of the other women would be talking about how their teen said one of their peers had a big accident in their pants at school, and I’d blush just like you are right now and not say a word when all the women agreed someone who has those kinds of accidents should be back in diapers even if they are eighteen. It seemed like most of the town knew someone who knew someone who had seen or heard about your problem, and it’s not like we live in a small town. I’m just sorry that it seems like everyone knew you needed to be back in diapers before I was ready to admit it to myself. But other than the bullies, you’d had so many accidents and so many destroyed pull-ups that most of your classmates didn’t even make fun when they found out you were wearing diapers at school. They knew you needed diapers even before I did. Remember what they used to say? “Ew, gross, they should be in diapers.” I know most of them were teasing, but they had a point. And I’m sure it doesn’t bother them that you aren’t leaving puddles in the classroom or interrupting class. No more “Mrs. So-and-so? It happened again,” and the teacher had to ask if you had an accident in your pants again, and you’d deny it right to their faces until they made you stand up and then sent you to Nurse Jenny, and then the custodian having to come in and clean up if it got everywhere. I don’t know if you know this, but in the other sections, no one would sit in the same chair as you. And as smelly as your poopy diapers can be, they’re still better than poopy pants. Your social life actually improved when I put you back in diapers. You're not eating lunch alone anymore cuz people aren’t afraid you’ll pee on them if they’re sitting next to you. Isn’t it nice eating with your classmates? And I bet you like the attention you’re getting from the girls in your class. It’s not exactly romantic attention, like we talked about when you thought maybe that one girl liked you. It’s more like they think of you as their younger sibling. That’s why it’s the girls who’ve stood up to the bullies for you more than the boys, though plenty of boys have stuck up for you too. Isn’t that nice of them, telling the bullies to mind their own business and that you can’t help it if you still need diapers because your dirty your undies and isn’t that better than what it was like sharing a classroom with you before? That sure did shut up the bullies; well, most of them. You don’t even come home crying anymore. I’m so proud of you for that. You can even play sports again if you want. I know you worry about waddling on the field or going two hours without a change, but we can double-diaper you like we do for car rides, movies, church, going out to eat, shopping, the park, and the beach. I know everybody can tell you’re wearing diapers when you’re doubled up, but isn’t that just proof that no one will make fun? If they all know and no one – well, almost no one – points or laughs or teases, that just proves most people will be nice about it. You even went to a party, and I know how brave of you it was to do that. We’re lucky to have a neighbor like Samantha, and luckier that she’s in your class. Isn’t it nice to have someone you’ve known your whole like come hang out with you when mom and I have a date night? … What? She’s not your babysitter, sweetie, we’ve talked about that many times. She’s just a friend who comes over to spend time with you when we’re not around. Really. I know it’s embarrassing for you when she changes your diaper, but it’s embarrassing for her too, not to mention yucky. It’s been so nice of her to take you places too, like that party. When I was your age, disappearing into a bedroom at a party would start all kinds of rumors; I know she was worried about that because the two of us talked about it, but I assured her everyone would know she was just helping you change your pampers, and I was right. People would’ve assumed that even if I didn’t tell her to leave your soaked diaper at the top of the trash in the kitchen just to be sure. Everybody already knows you wear diapers. Isn’t it better for people to know you were just getting your diaper changed and not that have any confusion or rumors that you had intercourse with her? You don’t want a reputation for being easy or loose or “scoring” with women, do you?. Neither does Samantha. She told me the last thing she wanted was for people to think the two of you were having sex or, worse, that you’re dating. It’s so wonderful to have a good, virtuous girl who thinks not only of her own reputation but yours as well for a friend, isn’t it? I know you have your urges, of course, which are perfectly natural. You can’t help those any more than you can help everything else to do with your diaper area. We don’t have to talk about birds and bees you’re not ready, but just know that when you’re read to discuss love and relations, I’m here for you. I just hope it’s before you leave for college. In the meantime, it’s best if we both just keep pretending you don’t do anything in your diapers except pee and poop yourself. I spoke with Pastor Sarah, and she agrees some things are better left undiscussed. She was so eager to have that conversation over; “Please, let’s just stop talking about it and pretend this never happened,” she said. She really lives by her word, as a pastor should. And she was so wonderful in organizing that fundraiser so the men’s bible study group could you build you a changing table in the mother’s room for when you pack your pampers during services. The acoustics really are something in there, aren’t they? So anyway, I just wanted to say how proud I am of you. I know it’s been hard, and I know the future can be scary sometimes, but you’re doing so good. It’s so hard being eighteen and ready to be a grownup but still needing diapers, but I really do believe the further you get into adulthood, the easier wearing diapers will be for you, if only because you’ll get even more used to it than you’ve already gotten. It’s so much easier already and it’s only been a month, right? What a month! And you have so many people who will help you. Such a loving community. And you know you can always come to me for anything. I love you, and I always will. You’ll be stepmommy’s little diaper butt no matter how old you get. Awww, there you go blushing again. Gimme a hug, and then let’s go get your pants changed. If I’m not mistaken – and I’m definitely, definitely not – you’ve been filling your diaper this whole time. March your butt straight to the changing table, stinky pants, and we’ll get you clean and dry and happy in no time. Well, about twenty minutes judging by your waddle, but we’re getting faster at it every day, handsome. Scoot!
  2. Heyooo! Looking for people to roleplay with. The idea is that two sisters are left home alone with the younger one in charge. Anything can be discussed further in PM’s. I also have discord, in case you’d like to leave your name and tag in the comments below for me to add you there.
  3. Chapter 1 Billy could sense the light before he even opened his eyes. He couldn’t remember anything; the last thing he could remember was pain. He opened his eyes; he was lying in what appeared to be a hospital bed, bit by bit he started to piece together the events that led him here. Billy’s life had been hell since the death of his grandmother 6 years ago. His Mum, who had only been 17 when she had him, had been mostly absent during the first 9 years of his life, while his grandmother raised him. When her mother died, she moved into her house with Gary, her boyfriend, who eventually became her husband. When his Mum died, Billy was left at the mercy of his sadistic stepfather. Gary would get very angry and lash out, mostly on the parts of the body that didn’t show, so no one ever noticed at school. They never noticed anything at school, not the fact that Billy’s uniform was threadbare and two sizes too small, or that his shoes had holes, or that he was dangerously skinny. Gary would only let him eat more than one slice of bread if he thought he deserved it. He would often go days with only a slice of bread a day to survive on. If he dared ask for more food he would be beaten. If only someone had noticed something was wrong he might have been saved. Billy remembered coming home from school at the usual time. He headed upstairs to hide away in his bedroom as usual, only this day Gary stood at the top of the stairs, blocking his path. “Do you think I’m stupid?!” he roared, taking out his wallet, “Did you think I wouldn’t notice the money missing?!” “I didn’t –" began Billy “LIAR!” Gary slapped him in the face. “You probably gave it all to your dealer,” mumbled Billy. “What was that?!” roared Gary, “Who do you think you are?! You live under my roof and you will show some respect you little shit!” “It’s not YOUR roof it’s my Gran’s roof!” Billy could hardly recall what happened next, he remembered he fell; Gary must have pushed him, or hit him too hard. He landed at the bottom of the stairs on his back, after his head came into contact with the bottom of the banister. He remembered the terrible pain he felt, before he lost consciousness. Gary, thinking he had killed him, tried to do a runner. Their next door neighbour had heard the noise and called the police. The police caught up to Gary a few days later. He ended up spending months in a hospital bed, with a broken back and brain damage. He had to have operations on his spine; the doctors said he was very lucky to not be paralysed. Billy didn’t feel very lucky, he often felt confused and disoriented, he used to be very good in school, and now his brain functioned much slower, making him feel dumb. His bladder and bowels had been damaged to the point where he no longer had control over either, he now had to wear nappies, possibly for the rest of his life. The only good thing to come out of this was that Gary was now behind bars. Slowly, Billy’s injuries started to heal. He had a visit from a woman named Claire, who called herself a social worker. She told him that he would be leaving the hospital that day and going to live with his new foster parents. A nurse came and changed his nappy, then helped him get dressed in a white and blue striped t shirt, grey sweatpants (nice and baggy, they did a good job of hiding his disposable nappy), a black zip hoodie and a pair of black plimsolls. He gathered these must have been charitable donations, they weren’t his and they looked worn. Billy sat nervously in the back seat of Claire’s car. He had been in foster care before, right after his Nan died…when Mum finally decided to turn up (months after the funeral) social services released him to her. He was in foster care again when he was a little older, this time it was just after his Mum died; Gary fought to get custody (for the child benefits) so social services released him to his stepfather, leaving the poor boy at his mercy. When Gary gets out of prison would they make him go back to him?! The car pulled up in front of a respectable looking bungalow, Billy realised they were in the middle class part of town. There was a wheelchair ramp leading to the front door. “Mr and Mrs Summers have taken care of lots of disabled children,” Claire explained as she led him up the ramp and rang the doorbell. The door opened a few moments later to reveal a mature woman, who looked to be in her fifties. “Oh, you must be Billy,” she said warmly, taking his hand and leading him indoors. “Nice to meet you Mrs Summers,” Billy responded, politely and shyly. “None of that formal nonsense,” she replied, “you can call me Auntie May.” “I’ve got to get on,” said Claire, “I’ll come back in a couple of weeks to check that Billy’s settling in OK.” “You can’t stop for a cup of tea?” asked Auntie May. “I wish I could,” replied Claire, turning to walk back towards her car “But I’ve got so much to do today. Bye bye Billy!” Auntie May waved her goodbye before shutting the door. “Right then! First things first, how’s that nappy of yours looking?” she asked, but did not wait for an answer and slid down his sweatpants anyway and felt his crotch. “Soaking wet,” she declared, “and you look like you could do with a good scrub, so we’ll pop you in the bath before we get you into a nice clean nappy, OK?” “I had a shower this morning,” mumbled Billy. “Well they’re very busy in those hospitals, I’m sure they didn’t have enough time to give you decent showers while you were there,” said Auntie May, “I’ll run you a nice bath, and you can have some bubbles too! Doesn’t that sound lovely?” Billy did have to admit, it was a nice bubble bath. He couldn’t remember that last time he’s had such a relaxing bath. Auntie May gave him a good scrub down and washed his hair. She then removed his pubic hair with some removal cream. “It’s very unhygienic to have hair down there when you wear nappies,” she said, “I can’t believe they didn’t do this at the hospital!” She also removed the hair from his legs and under his armpits, declaring him to be “all nice and clean and smooth”. She left him in the bath to have a nice soak while she went and put lunch in the oven. She returned with a pile of towels and some other supplies. The plug was pulled from the bath and she took Billy’s hand to help him get out. Billy felt horribly bare and cold now that all of his body hair was gone. Auntie May helped him dry off with a large towel, she then draped it around his shoulders to keep him warm before sitting him on the toilet. She picked up a pair of scissors and went for his blonde hair, Billy squirmed. “Stay still,” she said firmly, “you hair currently looks more like a birds nest than anything else!” When she was finished Billy was left with a neat, fluffy bowl cut that made him look about 6. “Much better,” said Auntie, “now we’d better get a nappy on you before you have an accident!” She unfolded a large plastic changing pad, which had a cutesy pattern of jungle animals, and gesture for him to lie down on it. Billy did as he was told, and found himself being liberally coated with baby lotion, followed by a generous sprinkling of baby powder, which made him smell like a baby. She picked up the three remaining towels, they were thick white and fluffy, and started to fold them. Billy quickly realised that these were nappies, the old fashioned kind that babies wore decades ago. Auntie folded two of them together, with the third one folded as a booster pad. The end result was a very thick mass of padding wrapped around his bottom and forcing his legs apart, blue capped nappy pins held it all snugly in place. Finally, a pair of blue plastic pants patterned with farm animals went over his bulky underwear, Auntie made sure every bit of terry towelling was tucked in. “Now, I don’t have any clothes to fit over your nappy yet,” she said, “I’m going to take your measurements later and make you some clothes myself. It’s a nightmare trying to find clothes in the shops that fit comfortably over your nappy. In the meantime, you can just wear a t shirt with your nappy, or…I might have something else that fits, that will cover your nappy. Would you prefer that?” Billy nodded. Auntie left the room and returned a few moments later with what appeared to be a t shirt; it was made of yellow towelling. “This was worn by one of the little boys I used to look after,” she said, pulling the garment over his head and guiding his arms through the sleeves, “he was in nappies too and was about your size.” Auntie knelt down, fumbling with the bottom of the t shirt. Billy felt the material brush against his thigh…this seemed very long to be a t shirt. Billy looked down in time to see that the “t shirt” also had legs attached to it, with fastenings in the crotch; the legs went only an inch past the crotch of his nappy. He was wearing a baby’s romper! The bottom half fitted tautly over his thick underwear, although the garment covered his nappy it did not hide the fact that he was wearing one; his whole bottom half bulged. He noticed there was an adorable looking lamb appliqued on the front. He did have to admit it was comfortable, the towelling material felt nice and soft and it kept his nappy firmly in place and stopped it slipping down. Finally, Auntie slipped a pair of fuzzy yellow socks on his feet and folded them down. “There we go then,” she said, “let’s go have some lunch!” He was served fish fingers, potato waffles and beans for his lunch, Auntie cut up his food for him. “Oops a daisy,” said Auntie, wiping away some bean sauce that missed his mouth before it dribbled onto his clothes, “you don’t want to get your nice clean clothes dirty! Perhaps you need a bib!” Billy though she was joking for a moment…until she opened a drawer and pulled out a large plastic bib, it had a pattern of little lambs matching his romper and a pocket to catch bits of food. Auntie tied the bib around his neck, Billy felt a wave of humiliation of being put into yet another babyish garment and a stream of pee escaped into his thirsty nappies. He ate the rest of his food as carefully as possible, in an effort to prove he didn’t really need the bib. Sadly his co-ordination had taken a blow since the accident and his bib was covered in bean sauce and blackcurrant squash by the time he’d finished eating. Perhaps Billy needed it after all. After lunch Auntie took his measurements so she could get started on his new clothes right away. She was a skilled seamstress, and made children’s clothes to sell online. “You must be feeling a little tired now,” said Auntie, refastening him into his romper, “I think you should take a little nap.” “I’m not tired,” mumbled Billy. “Well, you look it to me,” she replied, taking his hand, “come on then” She walked him down the hall and ushered him into a very colourfully decorated bedroom. The walls were yellow with a wallpaper border featuring the characters from The Tweenies. A large built in closet took up most of one wall and a single bed occupied the opposite wall, the bed had Tweenies bedding to match the wallpaper and a child’s safety rail attached. A long shelf ran across another wall holding various cute cuddly toys and a three large storage tubs were stacked in one corner, each one filled to the brim with toys. Auntie led him by the hand over to the bed and lifted him onto it; Billy led down while Auntie secured the safety rail into place and covered him with a Mickey Mouse patterned fleece blanket. “Sweet dreams Billy,” she said softly, pausing to draw the curtains on her way out of the room. Billy awoke about two hours later to a saturated nappy. He debated getting up and asking Auntie to change him, but wondered if she would be angry at him for getting out of bed during nap time. Auntie didn’t seem the quick to anger type like some of his previous foster parents; she was firm, yet very kind and caring. Nevertheless, Billy decided to play it safe and wait for her to come back. He shifted about trying to get comfortable, which was very difficult in such a thick and soaking nappy. Auntie came in around fifteen minutes later; in that time Billy had done a number two in his nappy. He was disgusted with himself for not being able to control his poos and hated the warm sticky sensation. He was used to being stuck in pooey nappies; the nurses couldn’t always change him right away on the busy ward, where there were half a dozen other boys in nappies. Auntie could smell it as soon as she entered the room. “Phooey,” she exclaimed opening a window, “I think we’d better get you cleaned up hadn’t we?” She had him lying on the changing pad once again while she undid his romper. “Oh dear,” she said, noticing that a little bit of his poo had leaked onto the romper. She slid the romper over his head, careful not to get any of the poo on him as she did so, followed by his socks and the poo stained plastic pants. The inside of his nappy was a mess; it took ages to clean him up, with poor Billy getting more and more mortified by the minute. He was relieved when she had finished and began applying the lotion and powder. Finally Billy was pinned into fresh, thick nappies. Auntie went over to the dresser and pulled out some fresh plastic pants and a clean romper. The plastic pants were yellow with a pattern of bunny rabbits and the romper was made of pastel blue towelling and had a white bunny rabbit appliqued on the front. After she had dressed him she replaced his fluffy yellow socks. Auntie let him do what he wanted after that, Billy decided to take a little look at what was in the toy boxes. There was a mixed selection, with everything from baby toys, to Legos, to superhero action figures to baby dolls. “It looks like Uncle Dave will be working late tonight,” said Auntie when she brought in some squash for him, “you’ll meet him in the morning if you’re up before he leaves for work.” Billy took the cup; it was a toddler’s beaker cup with a lid. Billy went to unscrew the top but was immediately stopped by Auntie. “If you want a big boy cup you have to sit at the table,” she said, “I don’t want any spillages around the house.” Billy sucked the juice out of the toddler cup obediently, he immediately started peeing as soon as he finished. Great, he was now like one of those wetting baby dolls! Billy found a Bart Simpson puzzle and busied himself with that. It was only a 100-piece puzzle, something he would have found easy pre-accident, now he struggled quite a bit with it and hadn’t completed it when Auntie came in and told him it was bed time. The clock on the wall said it was only 6:30 and the sun was still up. “You’ve had a big day and you need your sleep,” said Auntie firmly when he protested, “You can leave your puzzle out and finish it tomorrow.” She ignored any further pleadings, Billy realised his complaints were futile. Auntie took out some fresh terry towelling nappies and plastic pants and Billy once again lay down on the changing pad. His night time nappies were quite a bit thicker than the ones he’d been wearing and Auntie used four layers for the ultimate protection. Walking was a near impossible feat for him now. Auntie removed his romper and replaced it with a plain white baby vest, the kind that stretches over the crotch and has poppers. Auntie had to turn him onto his tummy to fasten him in, as they were located at the back, totally out of reach of naughty fingers. It would be impossible for Billy to remove it himself. His bedtime attire was completed with a pair of peach coloured fleecy booties. After brushing his teeth Auntie tucked him into bed and drew the curtains. “I’ll be back in a moment,” she said leaving the room, “I’m going to make you some nice warm milk to help you sleep.” She returned minutes later with a clean bib and a baby’s bottle full of milk. The bib, which sported a picture of Peter Rabbit, was fastened around his neck. Auntie went to slide the teat of the bottle into his mouth, but Billy tried to refuse it. “Come on now,” she said firmly, “drink up your night-night milk like a good boy!” She kept pressing the teat against his firmly sealed lips until he finally gave in. She held the bottle in his mouth until every last drop was gone. She tucked him in and ruffled his hair before leaving the room, forgetting to remove his bib. Billy slowly drifted off, despite the daylight still shining through the crack in the curtains and the sounds of children still out playing.
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