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  1. Disclosure I’m not sure why but SpongeBob has become a strange guilty pleasure, which for a guy my age shouldn’t be admitted to. However, despite him turning up in a couple of my stories, I want to say that I am not in league with the franchise, nor do I get a cut from the merchandise. I will admit to being enthralled by the TV show and love the crazy little guy’s exploits... and yes I am wearing SpongeBob undies as I write this story. SpongeBob SquareNappy It was a glorious day. It was just me and dad and the plan had been to drive to our starting point then take the fourteen mile hike along the river bank, up into the hills before the route circled round and returned us to the car park. At the moment, I’m standing at the top of a high rocky outcrop, staring out over the vast countryside laid out below and feeling on top of the world. The view is stunning and I’m feeling brilliant. I’m wearing my SpongeBob t-shirt, SpongeBob shorts under which are the SpongeBob plastic pants gripping tightly to my thick yellow disposable. I have a stout pair of boots and thick socks so I’m well prepared for our ramble. I have a small backpack that has warmer clothes, water and a packed meal of sandwiches, crisps and some of mum’s wonderful chocolate cake (and no I don’t have a Krabby Patty). Attached to the zip is a SpongeBob keyring with the square little chap grinning madly at everyone who passes. Dad is standing next to me and points out some of the distant landmarks, whilst other trekkers take in the view and smile benignly at my colourful yellow ensemble. I can honestly say my attire is unique amongst the hordes of other hikers so is getting quite a few contemptuous shrugs from the more serious walkers. Just like an enthusiastic young scout leader dad looks wonderful in his khaki hiking outfit of shirt, shorts, boots and backpack. In fact, he got his love for rambling, camping and the countryside from his days as a Boy Scout. His fervour for fresh air and an outdoor lifestyle has been catching and I really love being out and about sharing his passion. Dad hugs me close, pats my padded bottom and whispers if I’m okay. I’ve never felt better but I know he’s really asking if I’m wet... I am but pretend I’m not. He tousled my hair and we set off on the next leg or our journey. # My parents have been very supportive of me over the last few weeks. Just after my thirteenth birthday, and for no apparent reason that I could pinpoint, I started waking up wet. Mum took to the internet and looked up my symptoms and possible cures and, backed by a doctor’s report that said there was nothing he could do, followed the simple advice the net offered. · No food an hour before bed. · Avoid fizzy and caffeinated drinks. · Remove any distractions from the sleeping area (computer, television, gaming consoles etc) · Install reduced lighting (soft coloured filter bulbs, lower wattage etc) · Get subject into protection as soon as possible. The subject needs to know that they’ve done nothing wrong but that it’s vital that property is safeguarded from their current predicament. · A period of no stimulation before bed and regular bed times. · Be firm but fair. · Be organised and once set on a course – stick with it. # Mum and dad had no problem following these simple rules and I found that my mattress was covered in a water-proof sheet and my night times started off with being well-nappied at 7pm sharp. Of course I rebelled as much as possible, mentioning that my younger sister Gabby would laugh and I’d be ridiculed at school. Dad pointed out that he couldn’t see why as I was only wearing the stuff at home and at night so no one but family would be aware. He explained to my sister I was having problems and she should be supportive so didn’t want to hear any hurtful remarks from her. Privately dad sat me down in my bedroom and explained that this was what was going to happen and if fussed and gave either him or mum any backchat or trouble, I would be wearing them for school. Firm but fair... I suppose that’s how he saw it but that didn’t stop the resentment I felt about the injustice of it all. However, my protest was quite muted because after all, I was waking up wet. My bottom lip trembled at the thought of having to wear them for school so decided to just keep any feelings well bottled up. Before I got to wear protection mum and dad came in to my bedroom whilst I was sat at the computer. I was playing a new game that someone had come up with featuring SpongeBob SquarePants. I’d been a ‘fan’ of his TV show from when I was younger and was just a character that had stayed with me since those days. Now I know at thirteen this cartoon oddity should hold no interest for me but, and this was quite by accident, I was also wearing my SpongeBob boxers I’d had for ages and my school bag sitting on the chair in the corner had an ‘ironic’ SpongeBob keyring attached to the zipper. (Lots of the guys had equally daft stuff written or dangling from their bags, it made for easy identification should they get misplaced in the confusion of class). I learned later that mum had taken all this in as they presented a united front about the new rules. “Okay son, turn that off (item 3 on the –what to do agenda). From now on you can only use it when either mum or I are around and never after 7pm.” Dad was standing over me making sure I did as I was told and the protest that started with an “Aww, can’t I just finish thi...?” disappeared when I saw the look he gave me. “We are going to trust you to keep to this rule so the computer can stay here but should we think you’ve disobeyed us, we’ll take it away completely. Do you understand?” I nodded but felt really depressed. I love playing games and talking on Facebook and elsewhere to my friends late at night and seven o’clock did seem incredibly early as I normally didn’t go to bed until ten-ish. Since I got my own laptop a few months ago it had changed my life. I loved everything about it; the access to info, the ease of chatting to friends but most of all the games. I can get quite involved and some of them are quite dark and spooky. Even though they can be a bit disturbing I like them the best and often play them well into the early hours... but don’t tell mum or dad. However, because of dad’s threat to put me in nappies for school if I protested too much I went along with their suggestions convinced that after a day or two they’d forget all about it and everything would hopefully return to normality. However, what I hadn’t bargained for was the first night of my ‘protection’ regime. Both parents were there to, provide a united front, and after dad told me to go and get a shower mum assembled the relative items ready for my return. I’d been wetting in my sleep consistently now for nearly a couple of weeks and though the plastic protection for the mattress had arrived after two days, I’d been waking up to wet sheets and soaked pjs. The chat with the doctor had made mum go to the easiest line of defence – making me wear security padding whilst in bed. As I said, I wasn’t happy about this and whilst I saw the logic to this remedy (as no doubt anyone who’s ever been faced with this dilemma has had to acknowledge), I didn’t particularly want any part of it. So, when they arrived in my bedroom armed with powder, disposables and plastic pants I was none too pleased. Having an attitude at my age is all well and good, but dad is not one to put up with me acting like a stupid, inconsiderate spoilt brat, he pointed that out fairly early on when I started arguing for arguments sake and not because I had anything to argue about. He’s a loving dad but don’t cross him. He’ll put up with just a certain amount of what he sees as legitimate defiance, after that it’s his judgement that matters. I protested as much as I thought I dare but I didn’t want my teenage bottom being spanked as if I was a naughty little kid, which dad threatened if I continued to complain. The thing is, although dad threatens quite a lot, he rarely carries it through. As a family we all get on and he’s never disciplined me for anything... well other than a telling off if I’ve done something stupid. However, because this bed wetting was new, and I was embarrassed by it, I wasn’t too sure just how understanding he would be and decided not to test those limits. Two sets of embarrassment on the same day would have been too much to contemplate. I tried to argue about the early time (it was only just after seven) but mum said there were going to be a few changes and I’d better get used to them. She didn’t want to leave everything to the last moment and argued that seven could quite easily be made my permanent bedtime if I preferred. Apparently, I was now going to be ready for bed the same time as my seven year old sister and as her bedtime was eight o’clock; that was now also going to be mine. At this I really blew my top but dad said they weren’t punishing me but I wasn’t getting enough proper sleep and, according to school, my attention span was deteriorating. However, if I did want to be punished all I had to do was continue arguing. By then mum had noisily shaken out a disposable on my bed and indicated for me to lie down so she could put it on for me. The very idea of being put back into a nappy was filling me with anger – what would people think if they found out? I just didn’t want it to happen, I knew I should be shouting, screaming abuse and generally not putting up with it and to a certain extent I did. But it was from the thought of being embarrassed rather than I didn’t think it a way to prevent stop wetting the entire bed. I suppose, at thirteen, I thought I was over ever having to worry about such things, but there again, at my age I shouldn’t be peeing the bed either: The loud crinkle and babyish smell as, what appeared to be a small package was spread out to become quite a large padded area, was quite surprising. Meanwhile, the sudden appearance of bottles and cartons that accompanied it plus the clear vinyl pants that lay alongside, were all adding to my distress. “Do you have to do it... can’t I do it myself?” I begged reluctantly as I could see there wasn’t a way out of not wearing one. Mum made the point that I’d never changed a nappy in my life so to begin with either she or dad would be there to supervise and make sure there was no chance of leakage. With dad looking sternly on I let mum get on with what she had to do. To say I was very self-conscious would be an understatement but she was gentle and told me what she was doing and why all the way through the procedure. I didn’t want to hear about wet-wipes, nappy rash cream, bolster pads and baby powder, but she droned on about why I needed them all. Apparently, she was quoting bits from an online parenting forum on teenagers who suddenly start peeing the bed. According to the forum of parents – a teenage son or daughter should be included in the process for their own welfare. It was to keep them inclusive, something they were involved in rather than something being done to them. I would have preferred not to hear about any of it thank you. I was actually relieved when she eventually pulled the thing between my legs and taped it into place, as my cock was beginning to react to all the touching and rubbing, which was taking a great deal of willpower to keep under control. Anyway, once it was done and she’d shimmied the final humiliating aspect to all this, the plastic pants, into place she pulled me to my feet and asked how it felt. “Awkward.” I said irritably. “This is stupid I look like a two year old, please can we try something different?” The stern face of dad was replaced by a much gentler look as he nodded approval. Now it was done and I wasn’t screaming blue murder or throwing a tantrum they seemed to relax a little. However, deep down I was seething. Meanwhile, I just stood there feeling (and no doubt looking) a complete and utter tit. “Don’t worry son, you’ll get used to it and at least you won’t wake up swimming in a sea of pee.” He seemed to think that this ‘fact’ was enough reason for such treatment and that I should be glad. I wasn’t but their earlier threats hung over me so I was reluctant to moan much more. “You’ll feel a lot better sweetheart.” Mum added though I’m not sure how she’d know that. I shrugged as both mum and dad checked out my now padded crotch and bum. Once they were satisfied mum found my pyjamas but the bottoms were too tight as I tried to pull them on. “Oh, we’ll have to do something about that,” she said looking a bit perturbed. Dad said it didn’t matter I could sleep wearing just the protection but I was on the verge of angry tears so relented and asked if a pair of shorts would fit. As it was, dad had a large pair of satin boxers, with Superman characters all over, which he’d received as a present last Christmas. He disappeared for a little while before returning waving them triumphantly in front of my eyes. I knew he was trying to take the fear, shame and self-consciousness from the situation by making it a jokey experience but I was still not overly happy. Notwithstanding my mood, surprisingly they fit reasonably well over the bulk now resting around my waist. I looked in the mirror but because I knew what was underneath it all looked huge and childish. Thankfully at least you couldn’t see anything. I think dad was pleased that he’d got rid of a pair of boxer he’d never liked or intended to wear. We went down stairs to watch a bit of TV. I thought the constant rustling sound I made with each step was very loud but neither of my parents made a comment. Gabby was still dressed and enjoying something colourful on the Children’s Channel and there I was, in a nappy and ready for bed. I was about to complain about the injustice of this when mum called her to get ready for bed herself. She didn’t want to go as the programme wasn’t finished but I think mum caught my brooding anger and thought it would be best to act. However, dad got in first and said, “Right after your programme young lady... and no argument okay?” “Yes daddy... thank you.” She looked over at me as I noisily took a seat on the sofa but just turned back to the screen and continued to watch her show. I was still seething a bit but her show finished after five minutes and mum followed her upstairs. I switched channel but there was nothing on I particularly wanted to watch. Normally I’d be sat at my computer now and until late playing games or chatting but that was no longer an option. However, I didn’t realise just how uninteresting stuff on TV was around this time - soaps and detective series so, a big ‘YUK’ from me. However, mum liked these shows so that’s what was on. I sat on the sofa getting used to the padding that now filled the front of my boxers. Although the actual item was soft it did feel strange having something so chunky between my legs and I was shuffling around trying to get comfy. It was quite disconcerting the way the bulge at the front pushed out the satin boxers; I thought it looked like I was afflicted with some disease of the knob. Every now and then everything seemed fine and I’d forget about it but moments later, for some reason, it was bugging me so the shuffling started again. It wasn’t so bad when I was on my own but as soon as others came into the lounge to watch TV (after fifteen minutes my sister wearing her cartoon pjs came to join me on the sofa), I was more concerned about the noisy rustling sound that came with each action. Gabby pulled up the leg of my boxer shorts and looked at the protection, I was about to scream at her but dad told her to behave. “I just wanted to see...” she said upset that she’d been told off for being interested. Dad looked at mum and she looked at dad and they both seemed to come to some rational agreement. “Yes, sorry Gabrielle, your brother needs protection for the moment and you’ll see him wearing it at night.” Mum looked across at me. “Why don’t you show your sister what you’re wearing and then it won’t be such a curiosity to her?” “Muuummmm.” I had to bite my tongue from hurling abuse at her. “Well, it’s up to you but the sooner she has her inquisitiveness satisfied, the sooner it won’t be anything for her to think about.” “But it’s so embarrassing.” “Well it shouldn’t be... that’s just what you need to wear right now... show your sister exactly what that consists of and I’m sure her interest will vanish.” Dad confirmed he thought it was a good idea so reluctantly I stood up and eased my, sorry, his boxers down, showing off the slinky clear plastic pants which barely hid the substantial nappy underneath. I wasn’t happy about any of this and closed my eyes in shame as my little sister ran her hand over the glossy package and said she thought it looked and felt “very nice”. “There you go,” mum seemed pleased that her plan had such a positive result. However, I was mortified that Gabby was stroking the padded plastic like it was one of her stuffed toys. I stood there wondering how long I should let this go on for but both mum and dad looked on sympathetically as she continued to pat, caress and fondle its entirety. After what seemed like ages but could really only have been a few seconds I slowly pulled up my shorts and sat down. This time the padding felt like it was welcoming my bum and surrounding it in downy comfort. The huge round bulge at the front of the boxers was due to the nappy and a build-up of air and not my dick, which, under my sister’s childish ministrations, had thankfully gone and trapped itself within the folds of the fabric. At eight o’clock dad said it was time for bed. I assumed he just meant Gabby but as she set off for the stairs he looked back at me and said “You as well Josh.” I was going to argue that I shouldn’t have to go to bed at the same time as my little sister but I’d grown bored with what was on TV and was quite relieved to take me and my padding out of everyone’s sight. I heard dad whispering his good nights to Gabby in her bedroom and her kissing him “night-night” a few seconds later he came into my bedroom and sat down on the bed next to me. “Okay slugger... thanks for not arguing and letting your sister examine your nap... er, protection. However, just to remind you; no computer or electronic games but you can read for half an hour if you can’t get to sleep immediately. We’ll be up later to check on you.” I knew this wasn’t a particularly subtle warning but just wanted the day to end so sleep seemed a good idea. So, I wriggled and crinkled against the plastic sheet trying to get comfortable; the broad padding not helping in any way. “You’ll get used to it.” Dad proclaimed, “Or you can stop wetting the bed... whichever happens first.” He smiled and kissed my forehead and wished me goodnight. I was not at my happiest so I begrudgingly offered a fake yawned “night” and turned over. I also knew he wasn’t being nasty but his words stung a little and a petulant thought ran through my mind that somehow, by me wetting every night, it would somehow hurt mum and dad. I wasn’t sure how that would work but it gave me something to simmer on whilst trying to get comfy. It was way too early for me to even think about sleep. I desperately wanted to switch on the computer but knew they would be on the lookout for any transgression and they’d be checking in on me all the time. That threat of wearing this outfit for school was definitely a way to suppress any defiance I might offer. I tried to settle down but the slippery bulk didn’t help and I felt hot and uncomfortable. I tossed and turned trying to find a position I could sleep in but after just a few seconds I’d have to rearrange myself at a different angle and hope that would work. Surprisingly I did drop off but my sleep was fitful and I kept waking up, what seemed like every fifteen minutes and then taking another quarter of an hour to drop off again. My sleep had been terrible but I was fast asleep when mum came in to wake me up for school. She pulled back the sheets and before I had chance to react, slipped a finger up the leg of my protection. “Sorry love,” she said, “you’re soaked but the bed is lovely and dry... well done.” I slowly came round and the loose boxers were wrapped around my knees, whilst the silky bulge had increased enormously with its wet load. The plastic pants had done a sterling job (according to mum) keeping everything in place. I complained I’d had the worst night sleep ever but she just seemed so happy the bed was dry. I got up and waddled to the bathroom. “There’s a blue plastic bucket in there... just throw your wet nappy in there for now and I’ll sort it later but rinse the plastic pants through whilst you’re in there.” There was a slight pause. “Don’t forget to shower well... we don’t want you going to class smelling of pee”. I was still smarting from the fact that she’d said my wet “nappy” and now she was insinuating I smelled of piss. However, just to be sure, I did take longer than usual under the shower and using loads of gel hoped to rid myself of any kind of smell at all. Once dried and deodorised I happily put on a clean pair of boxers, a slightly tighter fit than those I’d worn over the nap... protection and put on my school uniform. As I entered the kitchen for breakfast I noticed that Gabby was finishing her conversation with mum who smiled and said she’d “...see to it”, Gabby’s face lit up with happiness. Although I’d been wetting at night for a few days now, I hadn’t even thought about “smelling of pee” as mum so succinctly put it and I became self-conscious at the very idea. In class all I could think about was ‘Do I smell of piss to everyone?’ and, if I did, would they equate that with me having to wear a nap.... protection? That made me very anxious. I did get one or two comments about the way I smelled and that put me on my guard. However, they were really complaining about the amount of deodorant I’d sprayed over myself, which apparently was quite overpowering. After the third comment I took the hint to relax a little on Lynx for Men spray. None of my friends or teachers said anything so I assumed I was okay but I still had a niggling doubt at the back of my mind so held on to my bladder’s contents for dear life, scared to even go to the boy’s lav in case I accidentally wet myself. I suppose I knew there was absolutely no logic to the way I felt but, that’s what a thirteen year-old’s paranoia does for you. My nights were protected but school days I was desperately trying not to go to the toilet at all in case of a urinary mishap. The fact that I wet myself at night without knowing made me fearful that I might do the same in class but despite that... I was simply terrified of going to the loo. It was as if by going others would automatically know I wet the bed. See - no logic at all. At school I’d gone almost a week without incident accept on the Thursday and final lesson Geography. I was desperate to relieve myself but determined to last until, I got home. Unfortunately, things conspired against that idea because accidents happen. I banged into a door someone else was opening from the other side, the corner smacked in to my groin whilst the handle bashed into my abdomen, what control I had evaporated. I managed to pull my head away from the hard advancing hard wooden surface, but in doing so thrust out my hip. The edge of the speedily opening door caught me off-guard delivering a fearfully painful whack in a boy’s most sensitive area. The result, an absolute geyser, which oddly enough we’d just been learning about, filled the front of my grey school trousers, soaking everything from my crotch on down. The pain was immense and I fell to my knees, whilst a puddle formed around me and an entire class looked on in surprise. Some were horror-struck, whilst others laughed out loudly at my cool image being brought to a soggy end. As I was doubled up in pain my flood hardly registered, there were plenty of other excruciating sensations attacking my brain at that moment. The problem was, once I started I couldn’t finish until I was empty, and that was a lot of piss. The teacher, who I presume didn’t think it was as serious as it was just stood there looking on and said with little concern. “When you’re done Laxley... go get a mop from the caretaker’s storeroom.” Eventually, and after a good couple of minutes of me still lying there convulsed in a puddle, Mr Tweedy realised that there was a problem and helped me to the school nurse. It took some time for me to slowly and painfully be dragged to her office. # Mum was called and after a brief explanation as to what had happened it was agreed I should be checked out at the hospital. We were lucky in that the daily National Health queues had died down and I got to see a doctor within an hour. They didn’t think I’d done any great damage but suspected I’d have a nasty bruise for a few days. Mum mentioned my night time problem by way of explaining my soaked trousers, which the doctor made a note of. He suggested that if possible, and seeing as I was already using at night, I should continue to wear protection for the next few days. He looked at my heavily piss-stained trousers and, shrugging slightly, said the injury may cause me to urinate without being aware and in his opinion, “...it’s better to be safe than sorry”. I hobbled out of there feeling none too happy but it was still painful and I was glad to get in the car and be driven home by my sympathetic mother. She’d been concerned and attentive from the moment she picked me up. I wasn’t able to tell her much as I was holding my groin and trying to hide my wet pants as best I could. My bruised ego would take a while to fix but I worried that a bashed up bladder might never get better. “Don’t worry sweetheart,” she said looking almost as pained as I was, “I’ll get you home and in bed so you can try and relax... a couple of paracetamol should help.” Once home mum took me straight up to my bedroom, helped me out of all the wet clothes, once I was naked she examined the injured area herself and then wiped me clean. Adding some gooey ointment for strains, which was nice and warming, plus a deluge of powder, the disposable she held wasn’t something I’d planned on. I voiced my concerns over this but I was genuinely in pain and wasn’t in a fit state to argue too much. Mum just responded with the simple fact she wasn’t going to let me piss the bed when there was an easy solution. No matter what I said in protest she was having none of it and in the end, the struggle to wear a nappy was won by the fact I had spent all my energy on trying not to scream and cry. Eventually she wrapped me its thickness, taped me tightly in and slipped up a pair of white vinyl pants. The entire process was painful for me to even move but I understood, for safeties-sake, it had to be done. Once padded and I’d slipped under the covers she went off to get something to drink to go with the pills. I could feel my groin throbbing and not in a good way as my hand slid over the soft, silky vinyl. Mum returned with a glass of water and a couple of pills and as soon as I’d downed the lot suggested I just lie quietly and try to sleep; sleep, she said, was the best cure for all ailments. She was very attentive and a picture of sympathy and caring. “You poor love” she said as she stroked my brow and encouraged sleep. There was still a pain down there but it had eased slightly. I thought I’d never doze with that particular ache in that particular place and the bulky padding but surprisingly, I dropped off almost immediately. Mum came to wake me a couple of hours later for tea and we were both astonished that my nappy was absolutely soaked. Despite my original dispute about it we were equally grateful that she’d taken the doctor’s advice as the bed remained dry even if I was drenched. Not only was I quite embarrassed but the warmness of the piss meant I’d only just done it and although the pain had let up a little, this only added to my shame. Mum told me that she’d change me after we’d eaten and to come down as she’d cooked something special for us all. I tried saying I wasn’t hungry but the smell of spare ribs and chips made sure I did as I was told. “Just sling on that pair of boxers, no one will notice,” was mum’s suggestion. Something else had changed in my bedroom since I’d napped so heavily. My computer, which I’d received for my thirteenth birthday had been removed. In its place on the desk were a couple of colourful plastic bags which I thought looked interesting but I wasn’t going to say so. I was more worried about my access to the internet. “Where’s my laptop?” I was so distracted I forgot about the boxers. “We’ve taken it away... its set up downstairs in the living room.” Mum said matter-of-factly. I didn’t really need to ask why because for the past couple of nights I’d sneaked access after 7pm, which was forbidden. They said that they trusted me not use it but if I broke that trust, I would lose it. I broke that trust so had no one to blame but myself but I still thought I should try and justify myself. “It was a present for me... it’s mine.” I snivelled. “No one should touch it but me.” “Well it is now in the living room and available to the entire family.” “But you and dad have your own laptop, what do you want with mine?” I was misting up at the injustice of it all. “Well now Gabby gets a chance to learn on it... oh... and hours of use are strictly limited.” “But that’s unfair... I couldn’t sleep so I just, you know, looked on it for a bit...” “Don’t lie. You’ve lost our trust so don’t add to that by lying” That sympathy she’d shown just a couple of hours earlier was gone. Now she looked quite angrily at me as I stood there wearing a full nappy and shiny plastic pants. “You were on it for almost three hours... no wonder you aren’t sleeping well.” She could tell I was just about to go into full strop mode but she just warned me against any such action unless I wanted her to tell dad “...and you know what that’ll mean.” The threat of a spanking never seemed more real so I swallowed the anger that was building and returned to my room. Mum followed. “Look,” she pointed to the bags on my desk, “they are a replacement present, which I hope you’ll like. I’ve gone to a lot of trouble to find these things for you so...” I was just about to take a look. “You can check them out after we’ve all eaten... now come down and when I change you we can see what it is then.” My warm wet nappy had cooled considerably but I followed mum down to the kitchen... I love spare ribs... so I wasn’t going to miss them if I could help it. I sat down in my squelchy disposable but thankfully the plastic pants kept everything contained, although there was still a strange sort of ache in my groin. It wasn’t painful, well not as painful as earlier, but was definitely uncomfortable... sort of like I’d pulled or strained something I shouldn’t have. Mum had brought dad up to speed about my accident so he was very concerned asking how I felt. I told him about the way some of the class thought it the funniest thing they’d ever seen, and that Mr Tweedy was less than sympathetic to begin with. “He probably realised there might be claim if he didn’t get his act together?” “I suppose so... but he did all but carry me to the nurse.” “Okay, well that’s good but... we might have to think about suing the school if...” He didn’t finish his train of thought because he noticed the expanded nappy so knew I’d wet whilst I dozed. However, changing the subject mum told him that I’d accepted the removal of the computer so there was no need for him to take any further ‘steps’. Dad glowered at me and I felt like a stupid irresponsible little kid sat there in a wet nappy. Having said that, dad seemed relieved that he didn’t have to give any additional discipline and that I’d been quite grown-up about accepting that flouting their trust had penalties. I noticed that Gabby was sat at the table holding her favourite doll Becky who was only wearing a nappy. Normally she has her dollies in a myriad of colourful outfits and then it struck home; Becky was copying me. I wasn’t sure if she was mocking or what but Gabby explained when she saw me making a grimace in her direction. “Becky is my oldest, cleverest and most favourite doll,” she clarified to everyone at the table, “she’s like my big brother... and he wears a nappy so now... so does she.” I was furious but dad and mum both smiled and congratulated Gabby on being so understanding about my problem. Their eyes told me to take what Gabby had done as a compliment and let the subject go. I mumbled unhappily to myself but I just smiled at my sister and tousled her hair then, to stop me from speaking took a huge bite out of my small rack of ribs; even wearing a soggy nappy couldn’t detract from the fact that they were delicious. ** tbc **
  2. It started with a onesie Chapter 1 - Christmas For me it started a couple of Christmases back when I received a lovely green onesie as a present. I’d heard all about them being ‘the thing to wear’ and a friend had gone to the trouble of buying me one that encased my feet and had a ‘dropdown’ back flap as well. I thought it was a fun, though childish, item and at the time was surprised at just how comfortable it was to wear. I have never worn it outside the house but often, when I get home from work, I just love to cast off all my clothes and climb into that soft, fleecy and welcoming garment. At first I simply thought I was being trendy, wearing something that was very ‘current’ but fashion being fashion, that look moved on… but I didn’t. Friends who call when I’m dressed in my onesie, smirk to themselves and say that I look like a rather strange adult-looking baby. I merely reply that I don’t care and that I want comfort, not opinions from the fashion police. As it turned out, a few months after Christmas, for my birthday I received yet another onesie. Having raved about the one I had I suppose it made buying this one a bit easier for my friend. However, this time I’m sure my present-giver was either taking the piss or making a point about the whole ‘look’ being foolish. However, by making that particular point he’d taken the ‘look’ to the next ‘level’… so, the design is even ‘cuter!’ It is very childish; pale blue with rabbits and teddy bears all over it and, as if it was possible, even more snug to climb into. I’ve left my green onesie in the wardrobe and now wear, and sleep, in this one just about all the time. I’m not sure if it’s the same for everyone, but I find just wearing my comfy onesie makes me so much more relaxed. I also find, much to my surprise, that I am going to bed much earlier, sleeping deeper and waking far more alert than I used to. It is like going back to my childhood, and I have to say, I really enjoy the feel of reliving that less stressful time in my life. As my mates seem to think I’m silly and are not in the least interested in – as they call it - ‘my thing for babywear’, I thought I’d better look online to see if there are others who have the same experience as myself… and really love their onesie. I was, and still am, happily surprised to find loads of newsgroups and Tumblr images full of guys that enjoy onesies as much as I do. There are some who appear to love them even more and have taken the wearing of them to a different intensity. There are loads of images of men and youths who seem to have adopted the idea of complete regression while wearing the onesie. They are happy to wear childish, snug and colourful designs plus, to complete the image; they have a dummy (pacifier), drink from a baby’s bottle, wear a nappy (diaper) and appear to be looked after by a caring partner. At first I thought it all a bit strange but, in most of the images, everyone looks so at ease, comfortable and content with being who they are… and more especially, in what they are wearing. I found it all so damn cute. I’ve begun to think that I’d like to try all that for myself. You know, wearing a nappy to sleep in (heavens that takes me right back) and not caring what anyone else thinks, just letting go of being grown-up and enjoying letting my adulthood fade away for a few hours. I don’t have a partner to try it out with so it is down to me. According to the many online sites, adults and youths wearing nappies seem to be a bigger ‘fetish’ than I could have imagined, and some appear to have been into it for many years. Those who I could send messages to, and ask questions about what they do and what they wear, seem happy to chat. Some said that they just liked the feel of being a child again, it was an escape, others found it a turn-on, and some were ordered to wear them by a partner who liked control, while others passed it off as a ‘medical’ necessity. Whatever the reason I was constantly encouraged to try it out and see for myself. So, as I was already part way there with my onesie, I thought I may as well wear a nappy and my onesie together one night and see how it went. I love it even more. It was like the first time I wore my onesie, it all felt completely natural and I really felt relaxed and content. I’d been advised by some of the guys I chatted to online that it might take a bit of time to get used to the extra bulk between my legs but, I can honestly say, I don’t think I’ve ever slept better… with the possible exception of when I was a baby. So, thanks for the encouragement to all you guys on the net who, like me, have taken to this particular ‘fetish’ and find it both liberating and a revelation. I’m sure it is all in my head and that somehow I’ve just talked myself into this whole thing… and if I have… I am really glad. Even though I don’t consider myself an Adult/Baby I can see the positive in it. We’re all different and I’m sure we all get our own rewards from wearing the things we do... whatever that might be. My nappies come from the local chemist but to my surprise I was astounded at how much anyone could buy from eBay if they were too shy to go into a shop. Adult sized plastic and rubber pants, onesies specially made up for you and some outrageous ‘other’ items and outfits that might be fun to try at some point. I might be exploring this particular interest for some time as I can see there is more to it than at first appears. I know I don’t want to be a full time baby (I still have a job) but I do enjoy the feeling when I’m at home and dressed as one. To have a dummy in my mouth, while I cuddle on a big, soft stuffed animal gives me a superb, blissful feeling. More recently, I now often wear a nappy under my suit to work and that gives me a great feeling of satisfaction for the entire day. Before you ask, and although many guys and women love that side of things, no, I don’t wet or mess my nappy as that isn’t what I’m into. However, I am excited about something… my new short-legged, Sponge Bob Square Pants onesie is on its way and I can’t wait to wear that with the new terry towelling nappy and thick rubber pants I have waiting. **tbc**
  3. From the album: Other stuff

    Maybe the best part of moving out of my parents house is i can buy stuff like this
  4. From the album: Other stuff

    So.... my friend who knows nothing about my little side, or even that i ware diapers (or at lest i dont think he dose, dose he?)
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