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Auntie Joan I watched as the latest terror attack was reported in graphic detail by the TV news. Over ninety people so far dead in an explosion in Mumbai that was obviously aimed at the bus full of new army recruits who were on their way back to base. The huge car bomb was so intense that it obliterated the bus and everything within a hundred metre radius, what I didn’t know was that my parents just happened to be passing in their taxi at the time. My name is Dean Court. Yes I know it sounds like a venue – ‘Could you book the reception at Dean Court please?’ or ‘Dean Court, the ideal place for your aging parents to live out the rest of their lives in a safe and secure environment’ or more likely ‘Dean Court, oh yes they do a wonderful seafood and champagne brunch’. However, I’m thirteen, nearly fourteen, and go to a private school in the UK, even though I’m from Washington DC originally. Both my parents work for the government, though I have no idea what they do, but I hardly know them as I was packed off to school the minute I was of the correct age – I was three. Since then I have spent more time away from home and my parents than I have with them. They were quite old, late forties, when they had me but there was never a close bond. I can honestly say I hardly know them and obviously I was some kind of hindrance to their busy careers. I suppose that’s why I ended up at a school I absolutely hate in England but which was well away from them back home in the USA. # I had no idea why my parents should have been in Mumbai, but when two men and a woman from the embassy arrived at school and I was removed from class to be informed of their deaths, I honestly didn’t know what to think. I was stunned. I asked the agents what mom and dad were doing in India in the first place but they said they didn’t know. I could tell they knew more than they were saying but they were ‘agents’ so weren’t going to tell me anything. None of it made any sense, but whether it made sense or not, the main point was that both my parents had perished in a terrorist attack, in a foreign country and I had no idea why. Perhaps the sad thing was, I didn’t cry, I hardly knew them. I hadn’t even know they were in India that’s how invested they were in me. They may have thought I was getting the best education available but I was an unhappy American, in a school riddled with class and discrimination. It may well have been number one for educating the elite of ‘Ye Olde England’ but for me it was a constant and unhappy trial. The school’s philosophy of keeping their students busy and involved backfired with me. I hated games, I hated my fellow students, I hated being away from home, I hated the teachers that tried to involve me in the way the ethos of the school operated. I hated the over-prissy school uniform along with the fucking UK and all it stood for. My nickname was ‘Doodle’, they chirpily informed me, as in ‘Yankee Doodle Dandy’ but I never responded to it. The school ‘house’ system annoyed me so much, I couldn’t understand (or want to be involved) in anything that bonded a group of kids, as diverse as we were, over something so stupid as ‘playing for the benefit of the team’ or house in this case. No, I was a very unhappy boy in an institution I couldn’t escape. I resented every second I was there and even more the parents who, without asking or even considering my opinion, sent me to such a prestigious hell hole. I felt cheated out of my childhood. I’d been handed from one institution to the next since I was three and always with the expectation of the betterment my parents no doubt wanted for or from me. Even when I was home the contact between us was minimal and I’d spend a huge amount of time in my room, playing on the computer, reading and waiting to be shipped back to school. Not once do I ever remember my father suggesting we should go to a theme park together, or go swimming, or camping together… or any damn thing that parents do with their kids. # Of course I had everything I wanted… except a family or friends. At school I hated being forced to be friends with people I detested. I wasn’t stupid and my grades were quite good, but I objected to being made to live with people I found objectionable, shallow, self-obsessed and entitled. In return they found me pathetic, dumb, withdrawn and not worthy of any consideration at all. I absorbed more than I showed but gave out very little. Teachers tried to chivvy (God at times I come over so English) me into various pursuits but gave up when my apathy began to corrupt others. I think they didn’t really want me contaminating the other students and I’m sure dad got regular reports on my attitude to school fellowship and all that rubbish entails. On several occasions I’d be called into the house master’s study or the school shrink’s office for a ‘friendly chat’ but I could see their prying ways and offered nothing back. I may have detested my parents but I wasn’t going to give this bunch of ‘professors’ that kind of ammo. I said very little, offering one word answers or subliminal contempt, all though I’m not sure just how subliminal I was. So, my parents being blown to smithereens was a turning point in my life because I was shipped back to Washington DC for a funeral that was attended by some bigwigs from the government. It was so high profile that even the TV companies and press were there but I still couldn’t get a straight answer to my question – ‘what did my parents do?’ It was then I realised that mom and dad must have been pretty important. Although this revelation didn’t make me think any less of them (I was so angry I don’t think I could have thought any less of them), as far as I was concerned they had abandoned me in favour of the state and left for others to bring up… they also did a terrible job. As both coffins were ceremoniously lowered into the grave I realised I was now an orphan and knew that as a thirteen year-old I still had no say in my future. I dreaded being returned to school in England to ‘finish my education’ but looked around at the mourners and wondered who, if any of those assembled, would be bothered at what became of me. I believe that people within the government had tried to find my next of kin. My grandparents were old and unable to take me in, my parents being in their forties when they had me, and the only person they tracked down was dad’s estranged sister Joan who lived out in the mid-west. I hadn’t seen her for over ten years and could hardly remember what she looked like so when the black-clad lady approached with her condolences I had no idea she was to be my future guardian. However, she put an arm around my shoulder and for the first time since the deaths, well, in fact, for the first time in many years; I felt that someone actually cared. # For the next few days she and I lived in my parent’s house as their business was put into some kind of order; the house, their banking details, the compensation from the government for my loss, were all sorted by the family lawyer and my aunt. A trust fund was set up and several other financial, legal and administrative problems overcome. It came as no surprise to me that Aunt Joan was the only person who, albeit reluctantly, was thinking what was best for me. As I said, I was dreading being punted off back to the UK but thankfully Auntie Joan was dead against it. She didn’t like their privileged educational system and I think more importantly, she detected my complete distaste for the place. I loved her immediately for her insight into what made me tick. It may not seem such a big thing but I can tell you, for the first time in my entire life, I thought I was on the same wavelength as another person. One night she asked me if I was happy. A simple question and not imbued with any deep meaning but it was the first time I’d been asked about anything and, I’m sad to say, I broke down and cried. I’m thirteen and this was the first time I’d openly cried for as long as I could remember. That one spark of interest in me and my welfare meant the world and I cried and cried whilst being gently consoled by my dad’s estranged sister. The tears weren’t at the loss of my parents but, as I saw it, the loss of my life that had me so emotional. Again auntie offered comfort and explained she was going to look after me and to forget the pompous school in England… she hoped I’d be OK with that decision. As far as she was concerned I was going to join her back at the little town she called home and where, she assured me, I would have a better life. She said quite deliberately that she would never abandon nor leave me to someone else to bring up; I was too precious to put in other people’s hands. I can’t tell you what a relief her few words were and I felt a whole heap of anger, frustration and entrenched hate suddenly evaporate. # However, her now being my guardian she was also privy to the fact I had another, more personal problem. When I was at the school in the UK, I occasionally wet the bed. I wasn’t even sure if I was doing it on purpose or not, although I certainly didn’t like the name calling or my wet mattress, for some reason I didn’t actually mind wet PJs and the little rebellion it kindled in my head. However, that night time problem persisted whilst back home and even after the funeral I had woken up every morning drenched in a pool of piss. Everyone appeared very understanding knowing the pressure I was obviously under, coming to terms with everything though I didn’t tell them it was an ongoing problem that I’d had for some time. I had no idea if the school had reported back to my parents; however, I felt I should speak to my aunt about it. I was nervous bringing up the subject but she came into my room one morning and I was just coming to terms with another wet set of PJs. The dark huge damp patch was obvious spreading across my pale blue cotton bottoms. It had even reached my jacket and I couldn’t be sure but I think my room smelled of pee. Luckily, I’d already managed to put a rubber sheet down to protect the mattress so it was only me and the sheets that were wet. I was embarrassed. Normally, if I’d been at school I would have looked defiantly at anyone who thought to make a comment, as if daring them to say something, but at that moment I felt like a silly little kid who couldn’t last a night without pissing himself. Tears seemed to be something I did now as I guiltily revealed to her what had happened. I don’t cry, well I didn’t cry before, so why they came so easily I wasn’t too sure. “It’s OK Dean, don’t worry.” She put her arms around me and gave me a cuddle. I stifled the sobs that were left. I explained that this wasn’t a one off, that I’d been a bed-wetter, off and on, for a long time now. I knew I should have grown out of it but, well, I hadn’t and I was sorry if that was going to be a problem for her. “Don’t be silly Dean, nothing you do will be a problem to or for me, but let’s get you cleaned up and packed, as I think it’s time I… we… went home.” She smiled the most endearing smile. Like mom and dad she was at least 50 years-old but still had the skin the texture of a woman in her thirties. Under her mop of faded blonde hair her face radiated warmth and understanding and again I felt protected and safe when Auntie Joan spoke. “Doesn’t it bother you?” I queried as I looked down at my sodden bedding. She laughed out loud. “Sweetie, back home I run a children’s nursery so if a bit of pee or poo worried me, I’d definitely be in the wrong business.” She urged me to get up, take a shower and dress as she’d booked us on a flight home. # HOME? I had no idea where in the mid-west I was going to call home but auntie had organised everything, she’d packed up most of my things and had already shipped them out together with one or two mementos and pieces of furniture. She said there was little point in taking too much as she didn’t need it and I didn’t appear that bothered about keeping anything so, my clothes and computer had been dispatched and we travelled with minimal luggage. However, once I was out of the shower and deciding on what to wear for the flight auntie asked me a strange question. “Will you be OK to travel as you are or would you prefer to wear protection?” She said it so matter of factly, as if it was something I might have considered in the past but in truth I hadn’t. “Er, er, no, er I’m OK,” I was still adding up the ramifications of what she’d just asked. Did she expect that I needed to wear some kind of protection when I travelled? “OK Sweetheart…” That was a new term of endearment and one that instantly sent a shiver of pleasure through my body. Nobody, not even my parents, had ever used such a term of endearment… and I loved it. “…dress for comfort because when we get there it will be in the 80s and we don’t want a sweat drenched suit to be your first experience of your new home.” I didn’t have much choice; some stuff was left for the final packing crate so I ended up wearing my undies, a t-shirt, a blue sweatshirt and a pair of knee-length navy blue shorts and navy blue sneakers. Auntie said I looked like a local, which I suppose she meant those I was going to meet for the first time. She was all smiles and joviality and determined that my parent’s deaths were consigned to history and that I should be treated as a boy about to embark on a new life that I had some control over. # During the flight, and again on the journey from the airport to her… our… home, the fact that she’d asked if I needed protection kept resurfacing in my brain. It wasn’t that I was offended, though I was surprised, but the thought of what that might be like just wouldn’t go away. She was telling me about the town where she, sorry, we called home, a place of just twenty thousand inhabitants in the south-west corner of Kansas. She explained that ‘The Rainbow Rooms Nursery’ (hereinafter called The Rainbow) was her business and where she and a staff of four permanent and four temporary looked after children from babies up to pre-schoolers at five. She explained that sometimes older kids also joined the youngsters in class because that was the age they identified with. I assumed she was being polite and meant that they were slow or had mental problems but, as she didn’t speak that way, I kept those thoughts to myself. My new home was a two story house comprising off; three bedrooms and two bathrooms upstairs, a kitchen, a living room, a den and large utility room (with toilet and shower facilities) downstairs and an even larger basement. All this was set on a decent plot of land, which auntie had made into a very nice garden with flowers and bushes to all sides and a lawn that swept down to the sidewalk. The street was a mixture of small homes like ours and larger, three story places designed for rich folk or big families. There was quite a selection but the area felt safe and clean and all the exteriors appeared well maintained. We lived at number 46 Glendew Lane and the homes on either side of us were built exactly the same as ours. # Auntie’s room was the largest and at the front of the building whereas mine was one of the two rooms that faced the back garden. The packing cases had already been magically transported to my room although the bed had yet to be constructed. I sighed a little at the prospect of fixing up my bed because in truth, I was hopeless at anything, even that basics, by way of construction. However, the other bedroom was already set up as a nursery because auntie said that occasionally she babysat or looked after kids whose parents had to go somewhere in an emergency and they needed someone to look out for their child. Most of the children she babysat were of an age where a nursery was more appropriate than a bedroom, so she kept it prepared for any such crisis. There was a crib and a small bed, both already made up and ready for a little person in need of a place to stay. The crib was all childish fleecy blankets and stuffed animals and I felt a sudden pang in my chest and I wasn’t sure why. The bed was covered by a duvet with Disney characters all over it and a matching pillow. Again, it was stacked with several teddy bears and other stuffed animals. I swallowed hard, standing in the doorway wishing I could just curl up with them and go to sleep. For some reason I couldn’t get my breath and my heart was pounding, I thought I was having some sort of panic attack or delayed response to my parents death and I started to cry. God damn it, what is wrong with me? # Unaware of her presence auntie seemed to know I was struggling with something and came and put her arms around me. The roar that left my chest as I bawled like a two year-old was quite uncontrollable and I wept into auntie’s bosom just like that toddler would. She soothed my distress and stroked my hair, it was a feeling that was alien to me and I couldn’t get enough of it. Eventually, she guided me towards the bed and we sat to talk. The bed had rails around to stop a child from falling out but on one side the rail was down so we made ourselves comfortable there. In due course I was able to get my tears under control and we chatted like we hadn’t done before. To get things rolling she explained the function of the room, even though it was pretty obvious; the toys, the piles of diapers, plastic pants, wipes and lotions, ointments and powders. What I hadn’t noticed though auntie had, was that I’d wet myself whilst being so affected by the room. There was a damp stain on my trousers, enough to flag my wet situation but she just patted my back and asked if I’d mind if she sorted me out. I wasn’t completely sure what that meant but I was too emotional to think straight and in truth I was tired and just glad I didn’t have to concern myself with any of it. She told me not to worry; she’d done this a thousand times and with boys my age so not to be embarrassed. She stripped me out of all my clothes and lay me out naked on the bed. She asked if I thought I needed to go to the toilet but I think it was too late for that, so shook my head. She then wiped my damp pubic area and towelled me dry before applying a scented lotion and rubbed in some baby powder. None of this bothered me I was now so relaxed in her caring hands I needed it to continue, I’d never felt so wanted. Once she was satisfied I was happy and not anxious about anything she reached up and grabbed a large disposable. She unfurled it as I watched, and although part of me was saying ‘no’, another part was hoping she’d just tape me in and I’d have no say in the situation. This was exactly what she did. I was clean, warm and snug as she juggled a pair of opaque plastic pants up and over the diaper. She then reached for a blue cotton t-shirt and fed my arms and head into it before rolling it down my body. I hadn’t noticed the snaps at the bottom as she fastened me in. “I think Dean you are just one tired little boy… so why don’t you just climb into bed,” She pulled down the duvet cover and invited me in, “and get a good night’s sleep?” It wasn’t a question, I was exhausted and at that moment I yawned and felt that sleep was just what I needed. She stroked my hair for a few moments before slipping a teddy into my arms, which I snuggled tightly. My eyes were closed but I could hear the rails being pulled up and click into position but I was too sleepy to think any more about it. I heard her say night-night from the door and then I was alone. # to be continued........

This role play is about a little girl named sarah who wishes to be 2 years old again.

This scenario has been done before, but that's no reason not to give it another go! The Boarder Chapter 1 Tim had never thought that, at 27 years of age and with a half decade of business success behind him, he'd ever find himself without a roof over his head. Yet here he was, alone in London, with barely the clothes he stood up in, standing in the rain outside a corner shop scanning the various bits of paper stuck to the inside of the window advertising bicycles, lounge suites and local accomodation. Tim shook his head as he scanned the ads for flats to let and room and board. 200 pounds a week. 195 pounds. 160! The city deserved its reputation for expense, he thought, and shivered, shifting his feet in the shallow, icy slush covering the footpath. Damn London, he thought. It had started well enough. Lex Grabbit and Run Awa was one of the agile new investment companies that had started up after the Global Financial Crisis. Tim was one of the smart young operators who had taken the company's bait, he remembered with a feeling of quiet anger. Lex and Run promoted themselves as 'Just two young guys with an unerring eye for a way to make an easy quid.' Tim had thought that sounded honest and straightforward enough, and had got an interview with Lex and Run in the subdued luxury of their discreet office in St James. 'Tim,' they'd promised him.'In a couple of months, you'll be living a completely changed lifestyle.' Lex had winked at Tim and Tim smiled and nodded slightly back. He had realised that he had now made some serious progress. Some of these small new companies operated almost under the radar, and some of them were making quite obscene amounts of money. He had lit up the Romeo y Julieta Lex had offered him and agreed to start the following Monday. The first month had been fabulous. His first fortnightly pay was 1000 pounds, which was in addition to the 200 quid Lex had insisted he take 'as a token of welcome' as Tim had left the narrow old oak door into Jermyn Street. 'Get yourself a decent tie, old man, and no offence, lose the fedora,' Lex had said. Tim didn't mind. He took the money and headed off into the wan greyness of the late winter afternoon. He strode off, feeling well pleased with himself. He walked through the park to the Thames, and walked east along the embankment. He stopped after a while, and threw his expensive hat into the swirling river. The next day, Saturday, Tim bought a new silk tie, and on the Monday following, he began work at Lex Grabbit and Run Awa. There were a few other young heroes at Grabbit Awa, as the firm was known to those lucky enough to be business insiders. The business traded on a special, highly exclusive 'dark web' trading board operated by a group called Orlin Owse. Orlins approached 'suitable' clients, and offered them the chance to trade on its LANSCAM trading board, on which certain companies, listed only by number for discretion, traded off-balance-sheet shares for cash. Sometimes, once a company started such a practice, not only were they outlaws to the tax office, but they found the value of the secret shares mushrooming, and started trading in the millions of pounds. The spin off for the investment whizzkids at Grabbit Awa was a generous percentage per trade, in and out, since the buyers were also the company's clients. The young traders would often discuss how ingenious it all was. The first three months had been unbelievable. Tim was making almost 5000 pounds a fortnight by the end of the third month, and was regularly hitting a 1000 pound performance bonus. Tim had proposed his next move over a fine tokay after lunch with Lex Grabbit at the Oxford and Cambridge Club in Pall Mall. Lex had mentioned that there was limited opportunity for employees to invest their own funds, and Tim was glad of the chance. Tim had access to around 100,000 pounds of family money, he told Lex, and felt honoured when the financial guru, after a moment's reflection, accepted the funds and picked up the tab for lunch. Tim's investment would go into loans to buyers on the LANSCAM trading board. The security was the borrowing company's own shares. Bulletproof, thought Tim. 'Your money's secured by the true value of the shares,' Lex had assured Tim as they walked back through the Burlington Arcade. Tim grinned as he realised that he could now actually buy most of the luxury items in the windows they passed. A few months later Tim and other staff members had turned up one Monday morning to find the oak door locked, with a notice taped to it advising that Lex Grabbitt and Run Awa was in fecivership with debts of over 12,000,000 pounds. Worse, when Tim returned in shock to his comfortable Pimlico flat, he found it locked as well, his goods distrained - according the the letter pinned to his door - and his beautiful leased Aston clamped in the basement car park, awaiting a tow truck. The series of court cases that followed was a disaster for the greedy young traders of Lex Grabbit and Run Awa. The company's fat QC got the two directors off, eventually, on appeal. Lex and Run's successful ground of appeal was truth; the court considered that the pair had not lied when they said they had an eye for a scheme to make easy money, and they had invested Tim's money, and a lot of other people's money, exactly where they had said they would, with the collateral precisely as described. Tim and the others had signed up with no duress. Tim had been stunned. Incredibly, LANSCAM had turned out to be a bogus operation, an in house setup running on the local artea network, and Orlin Owse was no international broker but a phoney outfit actually operated from within the office by Lex and Run, who also fabricated the trades on the supposed trading board. The numbered companies were entirely fictitious, with all funds invested actually going into the pockets of the duo. Even the entity which paid the young traders' salaries, Pond Sea Skeam Plc, was paying the men with money from their own investments. To top it off, the trader's secret login names, Tim realised now, were not the jokey, ironic references he had thought, but were in fact subtle clues to the hidden nature of the operation: Tim's code was 'Born yesterday' and one of his colleagues, 'Last shower'. Tim had been devastated by the court's decision. If only there had been some sort of clue - anything - to indicate what was going on behind the facade. The cunning of it all, he thought. He wondered if Lex Grabbit and Run Awa were even the real names of the two masters of deception. Unfortunately, they were now nowhere to be found, it seemed. Most of the other rich young patsies had slunk home in shame to their crumbling ancetral piles, but Tim couldn't face what there was of his family, who were not even in the country anyway, and with whom he had limited contact and that mostly through his accountant. It had taken Tim only a week to run through the cash he had had in his wallet. Ever one to keep up appearances, he had paid his last week's rent in full, and had left, announcing that he had the chance to move somewhere 'more suited to his lifestyle.' 'Luggage, Mr Osborne?' the concierge of the flats had asked as Tim turned to go. 'Er, no,' said Tim, and continued towards the big glass doors. 'I see,' replied the concierge. 'Good luck.' Now Tim stood on suburban London corner with exactly nineteen pounds and a few coins to his name. He was looking at a carefully written card which looked like an invitation to a fancy wedding, or a christening. The postcard-sized note offered 'comfortable, full board accommodation' for the 'right boarder'. It offered 'Help around the house' in return for some rent and stated that there were 'two kindly landladies'. Tim smiled. He could just imagine two motherly old ducks, catering to his every need in return for changing a few light bulbs. Every cloud, he thought to himself. It was almost dark when he reached the large, neat-looking Ruislip terrace. Tim had got off the Tube at Ruislip not for any particular reason. He'd just been wandering, slowly, around London since leaving his old flat, and his new cashed-up lifestyle, behind. Ruislip had seemed as good as any place to start afresh. Miami and Sue were younger than he expected. Both in their late 30s, he thought. Mimi was the more talkative one. She had explained the terms and introduced Sue. 'Everyone calls me "Aunty Sue,' Sue had said with a laugh, shaking Tim's hand. 'Even our big boy boarders,' Sue had added. She was a buxom woman, with a warm laugh and friendly eyes. Well-built but a little plump, Sue seemed oblivious of her large breasts, swelling under the thin knitted top she wore over a pair of close-fitting jeans. Tim occasionally visited 'cameltoe' soft porn websites, and was an admirer of the exciting feature visible on ladies in tight pants. 'Aunty' Sue's broad cameltoe, bulging gently under her blue jeans, did her proud, thought Tim. Mimi was more formally dressed, in a black skirt, a white blouse with a stunning double string of pearls around her neck, and black high heeled shoes. She was full figured too, but not quite as chubby as Aunty Sue. 'I'll show you your bedroom and just go through a few last things,' Mimi had told Tim as she led him by the hand upstairs after their conversation over a delicious cup of hot chocolate. 'A nice touch,' thought Tim as he held his new landlady soft fingers and followed her up the mustard carpet of the stairs and into a short passageway. He felt quite at home already. Mimi had explained a few details about the hours she and Aunty Sue liked to keep, then looked at Tim as they sat together on the big, soft bed in the room. 'Now, what about bed-wetting?' she asked. Tim could only blink back at her. My God, he thought. Mimi had just put her finger on a very sensitive area of Tim's personal life. He had wet the bed regularly until his early teens. So regularly that his mother had him in diapers every night. He had been put in pullups for long car trips, even as a university student, Worse, he had soiled himself on occasion when he had not been able to reach a toilet in time. The last time he had wet his bed was... a week ago, he thought with shame. It was an accident, of course, because he was so worried about his future. He had stayed in his flat all the following day, moving the fan heater around on the wet mattress trying to make sure there was no tell-tale stain. Not that it mattered, he thought. He'd never darken that doorstep again. 'Well?' asked Mimi. Tim's focus returned to the present. 'Erm,' he said, 'Not really.' 'Not really,' repeated Mimi, placing her hand gently on Tim's. 'When was the last time, honey?' 'The l;ast time?' Tim replied, feeling the blood rush to hsi cheeks. 'It was, I think, last, I mean it was in... er... ' 'No matter,' said Mimi with a smile. 'Our younger boarders are often a long way from home in a strange city, just like you. That can have its implications.' Mimi smiled. 'There's plastic sheet on the bed anyway. I'll leave it there just in case. Now, I'm going to go downstairs and talk to Aunty Sue. I didn't see you bring much in the way of belongings, so you can wear a pair of pyjamas from the third drawer of that chest of drawers over there,' Mimi said, indicating a large Victorian duchess chest against the far wall. 'Do you at least wear knickers under your jarmies?' 'No,' replied Tim, a long-time naked sleeper. This was so embarrassing, he thought. 'That's not very hygienic, Tim, or nice.' said Mimi with a frown. 'I'll let it go for tonight, but we'll have to find some undies for you to wear to bed. Well, it's getting late,' ahe continued. 'Why don't you hop into your jarmies then pop down and say goodnight to us before you get into bed?' Tim wasn't sure what to say. It wasn't that late, he thought. He used his company phone, which was no longer connected, as a watch, but it was in his pocket and he didn't want to appear difficult by taking it out and looking at it. He could look at it later but he supposed he would have to get changed into pyjamas regardless. And he'd have to go downstairs and say goodnight to his landladies before he went to bed. Still, it's a good place, he thought, even if this was a bit of a weird start. He had told Mimi his approximate position, and she had been kind enough to not expect rent for three months in return for Tim helping around the house. It was a bit more than changing lightbulbs, however. Tim had agreed to help clean and cook, as well as do the laundry. Still, he could look for a job in his time off, he thought. There must be some places where people didn't snigger when they saw that he had been part of the crew at Grabbits. The story, with the names of the individuals concerned, had shot around the financial services community, and Tim realised that his reputation, in the City at least, was in tatters. After Mimi had left the room, Tim opened the third drawer and looked through the neat pile of folded pyjamas there. All the garments were soft, furry flannel, with long legs, long arms and in either pastel colours or cartoon prints. Jesus Christ, Tim had thought. He wondered how old the previous boarders had been. It was odd. The clothes seemed large enough, although Tim was slightly built, if carrying a little condition at the moment. Good living, he told himself. The least objectionable pair of pyjamas was pale yellow. Tim put them on reluctantly. There was no fly, he noticed. No drawstring, either, just a soft but effective elasticated waist. Tim rolled his eyes and sat back on the bed for a while before venturing downstairs. He could hear the rustle of plastic sheet on as he stood up in his pastel pyjamas. Well, he thought. I'd better go and say goodnight to Mimi and Aunty Sue. The Boarder Chapter 2 Tim found his landladies sitting near the fireplace in the large living room. Mimi was reading and Aunty Sue was knitting. The ladies looked up and smiled as Tim entered the room. He had to walk carefully as the pyjama pants were a little long. 'Hello, honey,' said Mimi. 'All ready for bed?' 'Yes,' replied Tim. 'Don't you look sweet!' said Aunty Sue, putting her knitting on her lap. Tim smiled uncertainly. He wasn't sure he looked 'sweet'. More embarrassed than anything. He remembered having to say goodnight to his own aunt when he stayed at her house, years ago. 'Well, what about a kiss goodnight?' said Mimi, patting the side of her well-upholstered chair in an invitation for Tim to come closer. Tim approached her, and bent towards her proffered cheek. As he did so, Mimi put her hand on his backside. 'Very nice,' she said, gently turning Tim around before reaching out with both hands and tugging upwards the waistband of his pyjama pants. 'They're a little long for you, sweetie,' she said. 'Aunty Sue will take them up for you.' Tim felt the pants riding high now on his hips. He had taken off his underpants, and felt a little uncomfortable at the way the soft fabric now pulled upwards in front, showing his modest 'package' as a noticeable bump. After he had kissed Mimi on her warm cheek, the woman patted him on the backside and propelled him towards Aunty Sue, who sat smiling at him. 'Welcome to our family,' Aunty Sue said. After the horrors of the last few weeks, and the spectre of homelessness, Tim couldn't help feeling grateful for his present situation, even if these two ladies were a little over the top. 'Thank you,' he said sincerely, kissing Aunty Sue who also patted his bottom as he did so. 'Our pleasure,' said Mimi. 'Now, honey, your bathroom is at the end of your hall, so you can do your teeth and have a wee before you get into bed. We're a sit down house, by the way. Little boys can be messy, so you'll sit on the toilet for everything, OK?' Tim looked at Mimi's smiling face. This was over the top, he thought. Still, he thought, he'd humour this pair. He didn't want to appear ungrateful. 'OK,' he said. 'Off you go then,' said Mimi. 'Sleep tight. And don't feel nervous about being in a strange new house. You're very welcome here, and the plastic sheet is there if you do have a little accident.' Tim blushed. 'OK,' he said, looking downwards. 'Goodnight Mimi and, er, Aunty Sue.' The women laughed. 'Goodnight, Timmy,' said Mimi. 'See you in the morning.' Tim retreated upstairs. He found the bathroom at the end of the short hall, and was soon standing at the white basin, looking at the Disney toothbrush on the glass on the side of the hand basin. He put some toothpaste on it and began brushing his teeth as he looked around the brightly lit room. There was no shower, only a big bath. Typical English, Tim thought. They must have had a kid here, he thought. There were a few rubber bath toys on the ledge at one end of the bath. A fat little pig in a princess outfit, a yellow duck and a foam teddy bear wearing a short dress and a ribbon around its neck. Tim smiled. His own childhood had been quite austere, with no such friendly-looking toys. There was a low bench against the wall under the window. It was padded and covered in what looked like soft plastic. Tim wondered why it was there as he finished brushing his teeth and sat as instructed, peeing gently into the toilet bowl. He was surprised to feel the sudden urge for a bowel movement, and enjoyed the next few minutes as he always did. He'd often wondered if everyone felt that way about that bodily function. He wiped himself carefully and pulled his pyjama pants back up. He turned to the bath toys as he left the room, and couldn't resist an urge to say goodnight to them. He turned out the light, closed the door and was soon in his soft new bed. He felt the slight slipperiness of the plastic sheet as he climbed into the bed, but had no time to think about it. He fell asleep almost immediately and slept soundly through the night. To be continued.

Peter had a perfect life, although, there was one problem. His son Dan was rebellious against everything, he refused to obey his fathers orders, refused to come home before curfew, shouted at his mom, and refused to help out with his younger siblings. Peter and his wife had had enough, and it was affecting their younger children. They had four children, Dan was 15, they had a daughter aged 10 called Aurora and 2yr old twins called Chrissy and Charlie Peter and Chloe, the mom of the family, decided that Dan had gone too far when they received a letter saying he had been kicked off the basketball team for throwing the ball at the official when he gave a decision in their opponents favour.

Arthur Mitchell had known Betsy Allen since grade school. It was almost destined for them to get together as they were not only neighbors but we're the two in school every year that seemed to have the most wetting accidents. Well why not they were the kids that their parents seemed to have to wash wet sheets for every day because they couldn't seem to keep theirs dry. Arthur's and Betsy ' s mother's were talking and found that both of their kids were nighttime wetters and either or both would almost daily come home from school wet or would be wet before supper. Both were happy to have a sympathetic ear to discuss the raising of bed wetters, and pants wetters. They had tried punishments, no liquids after 1800 hours or 6 pm, getting them up at different hours of the night to go potty, rewards, alarms, medications but nothing seemed to help. Betsy was even called Betsy Wetsy by the other kids and her siblings, that really didn't seem to bother her. finally both mother's started to diaper their kids day and night which didn't cure them but helped them seem to fit in better at least the other kids quit calling Betsy; Betsy Wetsy other than her siblings who continued to call her that. About the time to start Junior High School both mothers took their child out of day time diapers, but both would either wet on the way home or later during play. But more often than not would be wet at school still so the diapers and plastic pants went back on until high school at least, both mother's thought that they would try it again then. Besides they were still wet at nights and between them both had not had more than a handful of dry nights since they were kids Since their mothers were so close Arthur would go over to Betsy ' s house with his mother or Betsy would go to Arthur's house with hers. They were left alone most times and the two mother's were oblivious to the budding romance between the two teenagers. Each knew the others secret of what they wore to bed and what they were wearing in the day because when the mothers talked it was as if the kids weren't there so when the discussions for day wetting and bed wetting each child knew the other was in the same leaky boat so to speak.

Dan and Sarah were young parents to 3yr old twins Lilly and Liam who they loved dearly. Sarah worked at the local bakery a few hours a week but she was home most of the time with the twins, and Dan worked a couple days a week, trying to provide for his family. He finally was able to book a family holiday to Disneyland in Florida, the first family holiday and the twins were looking forward to it. It was a few days before the trip and Dan and Sarah were trying to potty train the twins but it wasn't working very well. It all started one Saturday morning....

Hi everyone, This is my first attempt at writing a story. I decided I wanted to go for bit different than some of the usual premises for these kinds of stories, so this is a teen superheroine story. There'll be the usual diaper and ageplay elements, though it may take a bit for those elements to surface. So without further ado, here's chapter one. Content note for this chapter: kidnapping, medical stuff Of Capes, Cowls, and Cuddles Issue #1- Enter the Void Chapter 1: Attunement Bridget tried to struggle against the restraints that held her to the steel table, but it was useless. They were metal and cold, and didn't budge no matter how hard she fought. She tried to look around, to find something she could use to escape, but everything was washed out beneath violet operating lights, except for the dim outline of a few men in black lab coats, and the pulsing of a web of multicolored tubes that led from the table to IVs that pierced her in a dozen places. The fluids that flowed into her were neon yellow and green, and an orange that hurt her eyes to even look at. “Host vitals normal. Begin tertiary attunement” The voice was clinical and dispassionate, as cold as the metal she was laying on. She could hear the whirring of some kind of machinery behind her, and suddenly she felt a wave of pain coursing through her body. It was so intense that she couldn't help but scream. But even as she did, no sound came out. The figures in lab coats paid her no mind, and they walked b\between consoles and screens, adjusting knobs and pressing buttons with military precision. The pain kept coming, wave after wave after wave, and soon she lost all sense of time. In the few moments between the pulses of agony, she looked at her pale skin and received a renewed dose of terror. The veins beneath her arm began to glow purple, as though the blood they contained had been replaced by some horrible ichor. As the shock of the sight overcame her pumping adrenaline, Bridget stopped struggling, and went limp, her body alternately wracked by pain and helpless sobbing. If she had the ability to produce sound, the only thing that anyone would have heard was a tiny, mewling cry, that of a helpless, defeated child. “Please...I want my mommy” After a long stretch of despair, that she had no way of counting, there was the sudden sound of rushing feet from outside the room, a few muffled shouts and the rattle of gunfire. “Hold! The operation is not finished!” The voice on the other side was crisp and commanding, but even through the haze of her own pain and terror, Bridget could hear the fear that ran through it. “Fall back! Close the emergency door-” The voice was suddenly cut off, and there was a massive thud, as though a massive something had just crashed against the steel of the door. “Those bullets won't work, you know. And seeing as you scumbags have my sister, unless you want to learn how many bones the human body has by me breaking them all, I suggest you stand aside.” There were more shouts of orders, punctuated by gunfire, but in a few moments, there were four thuds, the sound of as many Meanwhile bodies crumpling to the floor. Bridget recognized her sister Samantha's voice, and that recognition jolted her out of her reverie. With an effort, she turned her head toward the source of the noise. She hoped desperately to see an orange yellow uniform with the white starburst cape that always hung outside her sister's room, with a familiar head of shoulder-length golden hair and eyes that glowed with a light like the sun when her sister was angry. Instead, she saw a massive reinforced door, and a flurry of lab coats. The doctors and scientists now moved with a good deal more panic and a great deal less cool precision, as they fled pell-mell for the emergency exits, away from the sounds of banging and gunfire. The door began to buckle, as though someone on the other side were striking it with a massive battering ram Bridget tried again to cry out, to let her sister know she was there. But as she did, she felt a strange chill course through her body, and an unfamiliar finger touched her lips, gently but irresistibly shushing her. Bridget craned her neck to try to look up at the head of the operating table and found herself gazing up at an upside down version of herself. Well, almost herself. Bridget had never, even in her goth phase, been a fan of all black or all that much leather, and her hair was certainly not a neon red. But the soft oval of her face was exactly the same down to the identical dimple in her chin and mole on the left side of her face, The girl's grey eyes were identical to Bridget's, and they had the same skinny frame. As Bridget looked up at her doppelganger it spoke, and its voice too was like hers, except that it reverberated with an unearthly echo. “It is done. With this, little flesh-thing, you and I shall both have exactly what we desire.” Bridget opened her mouth to respond, but the moment she did so, the other her dissolved into mist. Before she could stop herself, Bridget found herself breathing it in. It left a hot, dry sensation in her mouth like the one time she'd tried hookah. She coughed and spluttered, and felt a sudden stabbing pain as her motion jostled the tubes that still trapped her. Samantha came into Bridget's view her blond hair mussed with the exertion of her battle, and her expression radiating concern. She looked in confusion at all the tubes and wires, trying to figure out which ones to pull first to free her captive sister. “Bebe, are you all right? Can you hear me?” she cried, her molten gold orbs staring intently into Bridget's face. “Come on, wake up!” Bridget tried again to speak, to give some audible indication that she'd heard and understood, but she found herself still unable to speak, and her eyes drawn to her sisters', until the bright light emanating from one of them filled her entire field of vision, blocking out even the horrible light above the operating table. “Please, wake up!” The world was swallowed up by white light, unbearably, impossibly bright. ---- Hope you enjoy! Comments very much appreciated.

Andrew’s Story It was a shame for Andrew; so much promise, so much talent, so much money… just the wrong time to have a break down. ~~~~ Andrew Simmons, Andrew ‘The Frick’ Simmons, was all but burnt out after an extremely busy few years. He’d built up the business “The FrickFactory” from a simple, though addictive, game he’d created when he was seventeen, which had gone viral. The add-ons that he attached to this unpretentious computer programme ‘Frickland’ had launched a business that escalated, in less than seven years, to be worth $56million. We know this because that was for how much he’d just sold it. Andrew was almost at the point of collapsing from nervous exhaustion. It didn’t help that his small, frail, pale body, which had hardly seen sunlight over the past seven years, looked like it could have done with a good meal. He was burnt out and having such terrible trouble sleeping he was becoming addicted to drugs to help alleviate his many problems. Those seven years where, almost single-handedly, he’d developed and designed the ‘Frickland‘ franchise and the harder, more phantasmagorical ‘Conspiracy Gene’ game, had been intense and draining. He was up against a huge number of other exciting computer games on the market and it was a battle to keep up with all the leaps in tech, story lining, design and artwork. In fact, every day brought something new and revolutionary in to his business. Innovation was nonstop and although at first it was fun and challenging, for Andrew it had become mind-numbingly terrifying. He was descending into an abyss of his own creation, whilst his reliance on chemical highs to help him exist was taking its toll. Every one of his friends thought the shedding of his company would help, but it didn’t. His anxiety level was through the roof and, living alone, in the spacious mansion that only success can buy, was making him feel isolated, even when surrounded by people. He was getting desperate. He was sure his mind was going and there was a creeping sense of paranoia that drove every decision. With all that money in the bank, and the fact that he no longer had the responsibility of his company to worry about, you would have thought was enough to ease his predicament. If anything, his mood got darker and he became a very unpleasant, secretive, angry and deceitful young man. Somehow he managed to annoy business colleagues, frustrate family and alienate his best friends, which led to being more solitary. His parents had begged him to return to his mid-western home. They thought rest and recuperation away from the pressures of California was all he needed to get himself back to his creative best. He was adamant that he didn’t need any help, convinced if he did it would be used against him in some way. He screamed he needed nothing from anybody, there was nothing wrong with him but, at the back of his mind, he knew everyone was out to get him. A little rest, a little escape from all these annoying voices was all he really needed. He had to get away from all these leeches that would suck the life out of him. It was they who were the problem not him. The paranoia was no longer creeping… it was full blown. One morning his personal assistant Becky found her boss lying in a pool of vomit, shivering and crying for his mommy. She herself had known the problems of a personal breakdown but had recovered thanks to her psychotherapist Doctor Drummond. Once she’d cleaned Andrew up she begged him to try her doctor. She claimed that after only a couple of hours of therapy there was an instant improvement. Her boss was dismissive of her claims but she insisted that the doctor had hypnotised her, found the root of her problem and, by regressing her back to that moment, she had confronted the problem at its cause. She claimed that she’d been 100% calmer since those sessions and thanked the psychiatrist almost daily in her prayers for delivering her from a whirlpool of doubt and terror that up until that moment, she couldn’t explain. Andrew would have none of it, yelling and calling her a liar. Becky begged him to at least try him but the foul verbal abuse was just too much and she was glad that the following day was her last in his employment. When he’d sold the company, his employees went with the new owners, Becky wasn’t needed but thankfully she’d found a new position and couldn’t wait to leave now her boss was such an obnoxious prick. In many ways she was looking forward to telling him just what she thought but it would have to wait until the last pay-check was signed then she could walk out and never have to worry about the jerk again. That last morning was a disaster. She arrived to find him lying unconscious, surrounded by empty bottles and an assortment of Class A drugs and, on top of all that, he’d shit and pissed himself. Becky was at her wits end, finally she called for help. ~~~~ Head clear, mind refocused, Andrew was enjoying this new game, why he hadn’t thought of it before was a mystery. Instead of progressing Frickland he was going back to how it all started; The Frickland Nursery. The entire concept was there before him; it was bright, colourful and fun, a sort of cross between The Sims and Rugrats; entertaining cartoon characters you controlled. The simulation and sets were designed for the most enjoyment a child could possibly have. The game was clever, easy and at times fiendish. At each stage they could graduate up to the next age group if they achieved certain levels and collected special prizes. They had a time scale to accomplish otherwise they were returned to the beginning of the game. Andrew thought this was a cunning part of the experience because, no matter how advanced you were, at any moment, when timed out, you could be returned to a crying baby and the entire process would start from scratch. Andrew was relishing developing this game more than any other, well apart from that first one which had set his career in motion. Thankfully, now there was no pressure he was taking great delight in making each character age appropriate; diapers, rompers, onesies, pacifiers, stuffed toys, toys in general, powders, lotions, plastic pants, rubber sheets, cribs, nursery rhymes, mobiles… he couldn’t stop once he started. ‘The Nursery’ was going to be the best ever. The walls were all bright colours; cartoons festooned the surfaces, whilst the personality of each child was sweet and cute they were clothed in appealingly decorated diapers. Some of the kids would be timid, others adventurous but all were adorable wearing their little baby outfits. Some of the characters were new-borns, others crawling and some toddling around. They walked and talked like babies and each wore a very visible diaper; some wore more than one. The thickness was a penalty for not achieving certain ‘points’ or ‘prizes’ throughout the game. Occasionally a grown-up (Nanny), would come in and change, discipline, dress or insist on ‘nap time’ for various individuals as needed. To gain age levels they had to collect colourful items like golden pacifiers (there were seven colours to be won to get up to the golden prize), four layered lace pink panties (pink was the top plastic panties you could achieve though there were four other colours and different layered ruffles to attain first). Food, baby bottles, sippy-cups, bibs and playtime were all graded and awarded points and only once you’d achieved the top level in each of these could you advance. Andrew was getting more and more excited as each new component of his game dropped into place or he expanded on the idea. ‘The Nursery’ was heavily populated. Padded bottoms were everywhere as the cast crawled or toddled to various areas of play where some tried to gain the rewards that meant they would be able to ‘grow up’. Baby boys and baby girls cried, wet and soiled themselves if they failed and that set them back a stage which they had to repeat. The changing mat also meant that more diapers were added, which slowed the toddler down and made achieving the next level slightly more difficult. Andrew giggled to himself when he saw that one of the 30 month-old toddlers lost all his rewards and had to start at the beginning – so it was back to being a baby again. That was a penalty which seemed extreme but was fun to have. Crying was just as much a part of being a child as giggling, or moodiness, or sleeping, so at times the nursery was both chaotic and peaceful. Andrew thought it was the best game his imagination had ever created. He loved the colourful characters he’d produced. He loved the innocent but slightly edgy nursery world in which they lived. He loved the fact that it was a fun place to play. Every game was an adventure; every detail of a kindergarten was included, from the selection of soft and furry toys to the lettered building bricks. It was all so realistic, every move was accompanied by the rustling sound of plastic diapers and plastic pants… he could almost smell the baby powder… in fact; he could smell the baby powder! ~~~~ He looked down at himself. He was wearing a thick, thick diaper and a pink vest with a cartoon mouse on the front. Whilst the cartoon mouse stayed the same the rest of the Sim-like caricature world dissolved from colourful comic animated figures into real people. Each of his characters was no longer in a game but the real world. There was a cross-section of ages and when he tried to speak the only noise he could hear was childish gibberish. He tried again, but no words formed just sounds and noises those around him responded to but couldn’t understand. The toddlers had a few words in their vocabulary but Andrew; well he wasn’t sure what or where he was. He looked like a twenty-four year-old but his dress and speech were that of a one year-old. He thought this was all part of his own creation but now he wasn’t sure. He could only crawl and his diaper felt full, wet and uncomfortable. He tried to tell someone, anyone that he was having a nightmare, but no one could understand what he was trying to say. His body just wouldn’t do the things he wanted or expected it to do. There was no coordination, no strength, even crawling around was difficult. On top of all that, the frustration at not being understood led him to do what babies always do when in such a situation - he sat in his soiled diaper and cried. ~~~~ High up on the gantry, looking down on his medical achievement, stood the fifty year-old, white-haired and self-satisfied Doctor Drummond; he was pleased with the way business was progressing. The specialist area of psychiatry had led to his ground-breaking research being financed by the government. His responsibility was to find a psychological way of rehabilitating hardened criminals so that they were no longer a menace to society. Unfortunately, his deep and controversial exploration of the human mind had led to a few setbacks along the way, which the government, seeing lawsuits on the horizon, weren’t happy being associated with. His funding had almost dried up until he’d found a way of utilising those unforeseen but effective ‘setbacks’. Now, with his state-of-the-art desert retreat (psychiatric institute) he was able to offer a service he was surprised how many people wanted to exploit. Some patients were volunteers, some were sent, whilst many had no choice. Most of the ‘children’ who were crawling around below were heirs to various fortunes that either family, or Doctor Drummond himself, had managed to convince needed to start his specialist treatment. They all had problems of one kind or another and hoped for a cure that the saintly (and highly regarded) psychoanalyst might provide. Whether, kidnapped, coerced or corralled business was doing well. The clever and opportunistic shrink had certainly found a market for his specialised (some might say criminal) therapy. None of patients were aware what their ultimate ‘cure’ would be, though this particular outcome suited many business rivals or disgruntled siblings. The doctor would tamper with their minds; explode memories, kill off thought processes, defeat certain urges, impose control, manipulate will, rectify and regress each one of them back to those glorious, happy, untroubled, childhood days. That was the initial idea; however, what that actually meant was they were destined to a lifetime of diapers and toddlerhood… repeated ad nauseam. Visiting guests and high powered execs took great delight in seeing a rival reduced to diapers and building bricks and were happy to pay for the privilege to keep that person out of the way and incapable of a response. They reasoned that being ‘forever a toddler’ was better than ‘not being at all’, and congratulated themselves on being so considerate, finding a wonderful world for their ‘adversaries’ to live out their lives. They also loved the idea of the humiliation that a grown person having to wear baby clothes, smocks, diapers and plastic pants would feel, they hadn’t realised that humiliation can only happen if the person humiliated is aware of the fact. These babies had no concept of anything but their toddler existence and the childish sphere in which they blissfully lived. No matter what their real age, in ‘The Nursery’, no one would ever progress past being a toddler. The nurses (or nannies to the little ones), trained and cared for their babies in the colourful, childish world that the good doctor had created for them. The regression trigger he’d placed in all of his subject’s minds was there should any start showing signs of developing an intellect. Their entire lives were spent as little kids playing and trying to win prizes. He, and a couple of his technical boffins, had come up with an app called ‘The Nursery’ so there was a digital baby world as well as a real one in existence. He was able to combine the two for his tots, which gave them something to aim for, even if that aim was bogus, after all, it did form another part of the research. However, as soon as they reached the advanced level (about three years-old), cleverly they were re-set to start all over again with no memory of what they’d already accomplished. Smugly, as the doctor looked down on the latest patient in his care he smiled. After a couple of weeks intensive ‘therapy’ Little Baby Andy was now able to join all the other babies in the nursery. His brain had needed a complete retune but using the game and Andrew’s own programming abilities, had been fairly easily convinced it was all his creation. He’d planted the computer game idea, and the characters, so deep that Andrew would have difficulty in separating one from the other and believe he was responsible for everything that went on. That was until his mind refocused on the real rather than the cartoon element then, as the doctor planned, his mind would scramble and he’d slot right into complete babyhood with no problem. The cunning academic could see the newest ‘recruit’ to the nursery sitting in his thick diaper and cute little mousey t-shirt crying, coming to terms (or not) with his situation. It wouldn’t take long. Soon his brain would stop computing and start accepting, although he may never quite be able to mentally differentiate between the physical and digital worlds. However, Baby Andy would be a welcome addition to the doctor’s crazy collection of kindergarten kids. Besides, the cute, sad-eyed, under nourished looking baby with the huge diaper had nothing to worry about; Doctor Drummond was going to be taking special care of him. After all, the clinic was financially safe for quite a while now that he had access to $56 million. ****************** THE END

Teenybop A little while ago I was acting as a security guard at a pop concert at the local arena. I’ll not tell you who the boyband were but they are constantly in the charts and seem very successful. They’d won one of those TV talent shows in the UK but had since become a bit of an International musical phenomenon. Their songs were catchy, the videos inventive and there seemed to be someone to appeal to everyone in their line-up. Not my type of music really but the job paid okay and the extra cash was always useful. Not that their tunes bothered me as I was guarding their dressing room, which was quite a hike away from the stage. I suppose, I was posted outside the dressing room door because of my bodybuilder physique I look threatening enough to dissuade any potential fan from trying to gain access. Anyhow, there was some kind of rumpus in the dressing room, which ended up that I had to escort one of the band members back to the tour bus to collect something. It was a job keeping up with him as he stalked off with a great deal of determination. Judging by the tiny-tot fan-base that filled the auditorium ready for the concert, most didn’t appear to be over ten years old, but Christ, what a noise they made. Even in the distance the din they made in anticipation of seeing their heroes was unbelievable. Once inside the huge bus, and whilst he angrily fished around, wriggling into tight places searching for whatever it was, his low-slung jeans revealed a secret. His tight little ass, covered in a diaper and plastic pants, was waving in the air as he bent over trying to find whatever it was he wanted. I smirked to myself. Now there’s a secret that somebody in the press would pay good money to know. However, from experience I knew there were probably a bunch of pre-pubescent fans in the audience who still wore that type of ‘underwear’ though I was astonished to see a teenage member of this British band dressed in such a manner. I could imagine that this particular little (or should that have been ‘wittle’?) star had more in common with those kids than the four other, slightly older, members of the band. Whilst the rest were the noisy, boyish and confident play-makers, he was the quiet, unassuming fifth member who never pushed himself forward. He was the one that every ten year-old girl wanted as a boyfriend… as well as to mother. His floppy blond hair and baby blue eyes stared down from a multitude of bedroom walls right across the world. He looked like he was the baby of the bunch and his soft, juvenile features didn’t help alter that image. My two girls are grown up now but I definitely remember, not so many years ago, their bedrooms festooned with the latest pop sensation (not unlike this particular boy) and the concerts I had to attend to keep them happy. Thank god these days they can look after themselves but I guess, even they would be excited that I was working (or in the presence at least) of one of today’s major pop idols. # To be honest, I wasn’t being particularly fair to him as I’d more or less dismissed this set of musical imports as nothing more than a flash in the pan. All I had to do was make sure he got to the bus and returned without anyone trying to get to him. However, and I’m not sure why, there was something about the way he acted during the short period of time I was with him that drew my compassion. As he searched for whatever he needed his jeans tightened around his cute teenybop bum and the outline of his padding became more apparent. Not only that but the top of a pair of milky white, slinky vinyl pants became obvious and I could hear the soft ‘rustling’ sound as he moved, which I remembered so well from when my own kids were toddlers - except, he wasn’t a toddler. It was such a startling revelation but I have to say I was enjoying the little spectacle as he crawled around the floor desperately rummaging for who knows what? He was unconscious of what I could see and I’m sad to say, my opinion became that of a stereotypical spoilt UK youth. Not that I knew any British kids other than those on TV, but my opinion on the matter was very low… I thought they were all a bit ‘delicate’. As he struggled in his hunt, more and more of the back of his protection was revealed. I offered to help but he just said “No thank you Mister” (at least the boy had been brought up to have manners) but I could tell from the way he said it he was frustrated. “If you tell me what it is… maybe, four eyes rather than two might find it quicker.” I suggested. He turned and looked at me and I could see pure anguish on his beautiful, unblemished teenage face. He thought for a moment. “I can’t go on without him,” he sobbed. I’ve never been able to help myself as I just hate to see kids upset. I couldn’t stand it with my own and this sad looking little fella seemed in need of some consideration. “Okay, okay… tell me what we’re looking for and let’s see if we can’t track it down.” I offered with a smile. With all his manic searching and wriggling under things his jeans had slid further off his hips and there was more of his padding on show than he necessarily wanted anyone to see. However, he was so worried about what he’d lost that he seemed unconcerned that so much thick protection was now in view. “He’s, he’s about this big.” He stretched his right thumb and forefinger to reveal that it was about three inches long. “… and is a small furry teddy bear on a keyring.” Although this sounded to me like I’d been set up for a prank, I could tell from little Da*** (sorry still can’t say his name) eyes that he was deadly serious about finding this ‘charm’ of some description. “I can’t go on without Benny. I had him at my first audition and he’s always brought me… luck…” He stumbled over his words and cried a little. “I know I’ll fail if I… huh… don’t have himmmm.” He drew out the final word, desperation in his voice, and began to look around with more intensity, anxious to retrieve the object from wherever it had gone. I knew from my own experience with my girls that no amount of sweet words and positive encouragement would help the situation. The only thing to do was start looking and hope the little teddy bear would soon be found. In the distance I could hear the build-up in the auditorium continuing and had been surprised that their tour manager had let him leave the dressing room so near to performance time. But judging by the initial hullabaloo I’d heard, perhaps he had been creating so much in there they simply had to let him go. # The leader of the band had indeed been gloating over Benny’s disappearance and as always continued to mock their youngest member because right before a show he’d get so nervous he often pissed his pants. Then there had been a few other occasions where he’d actually pissed himself on stage, so action needed to be taken. The solution had been obvious, wrap him up in a nappy and send him back on stage. The only problem with that was the lack of sympathy from the other members of the band and the continual reference to him as ‘wittle baby’. Although outwardly, and as far as the fans were concerned, all was fun and friendship, in reality there was a growing chasm. The others were quickly growing tired of their teenybop reputation, even if it was earning them millions each year. However, the name-calling and general piss-taking had gotten past a joke as his problem got worse and he needed nappies almost full time. They also resented him for other reasons which I was soon to find out. # “They all hate me,” he whined. “They think I’m treated differently because my doll outsold all theirs put together.” He didn’t say this with any amount of hubris just with a cute, resigned sigh. “The press made a big deal of it so…” There was nothing about this boy that wasn’t sweet and innocent (well that’s what I took away from our short meeting) and I felt sorry that he wasn’t as worldly as the others. However, I suppose that was his appeal, and probably why he shifted more dolls than the rest of the group. I remember Christmas that year the ‘must have’ toy for girls of a certain age had been to collect the band in doll form. People were going ballistic in the toy stores grabbing and fighting to make sure their little one received that special figure under the tree. The bands album, single and DVD all topped their respective charts during that period, as I think they still were when this concert took place. They were massive and the eight thousand plus screaming kids in the arena were making sure that another million or so would be added to their coffers. “They know I need Benny… my little good luck teddy bear… I’ve had him since I was a baby. I feel I can do anything when he’s with me, when he’s not I feel lonely, a bit scared and my confidence goes completely.” There was a pause. “Silly aren’t I?” He looked up at me with his sad but revealing eyes, almost begging me not to mock the fact that a boy his age should still be concerned about something as trivial as a key ring. But as I say, I had daughters and knew that being dismissive of such attachments was not very productive and could lead to resentment. There was also a look of complete panic just brewing under the surface and I saw him fidget and rub the front of his diaper. I remember that action very well; it usually meant that when my daughters did it they had just wet their pants, though of course I couldn’t be certain it was the case this time. “Okay sweetheart,” For a moment I forgot my place and just thought I was speaking to one of my girls whenever one of them got in such a state. “Let’s see where we can find Benny.” # The tour bus was quite a big affair as it had sleeping quarters for the band and staff, who I’d expect to be doing this job instead of me. Alas, I learned, such was the tantrum he’d generated in the dressing room he’d insisted that only he would go and look for it as he no longer trusted anyone else. I think I was an afterthought when the manager realised they couldn’t let such a valuable asset venture off on his own. So I was sent to make sure he returned. He couldn’t find Benny and was getting into a much worse state, the tears and panic making his search that much more difficult. Then I had a brainwave. “Where do you keep your diapers?” “Errrr.” The look on his face changed to anxiety that his secret had been exposed. I pointed to his visible plastic pants. “Ohhh, please, pwease don’t tell anyone… I have to wear nappies.” He started hyperventilating and it took a few deep breaths to help calm him down. It took me a minute to remember that nappies were a British thing but diapers were the same… although it was obvious he needed some reassurance. “Look buddy, I’m not here to reveal your secrets. I signed a confidentiality agreement before I was allowed to work here. I just want to help and, if I know what boys are like, they’ll have either thrown your charm away…” A look of sheer horror crossed his face. “Or… or…” I tried to placate him, “…they will have hidden him in what they regard as the most embarrassing place for you.” He seemed to nod in understanding and toddled over to his bunk. Actually it was more of a waddle because his disposable diaper had expanded so much. It was the sag that was weighing his diaper down so I guessed he’d wet on more than one occasion. That boy most really flood when he gets nervous. His vinyl pants now appeared stretched and shiny and if he’d been my responsibility I would have taken him to the changing bench and urgently got him into something nice and dry. He grappled for a few seconds under his bunk for whatever he was reaching for and as he pulled it into view I heard a little yelp of happy surprise come from his lips. He turned, and there, dangling from between his thumb and forefinger, was his prized possession. The look of relief was palpable and the tears that fell were of relief and happiness now Benny was back in his custody. Meanwhile, I couldn’t help but stare at the large box of juvenile patterned disposables he’d also brought into full view. He rushed over and threw his arms around my waist and gave me a grateful hug. “Thank you, thank you so much mister… I’d never have thought of looking there.” I’d never particularly liked the British accent before but this grateful crush and sweet, unaffected joyful response to finding his bear was very charming. His appreciations at getting Benny back muffled by that intense squeeze as his face pressed into my taut belly. I was surprised at his spontaneous, affectionate action and patted his padded bum quite by accident. I could feel in that hug just how much it had meant to him to be holding his good-luck charm and I began to wonder if he’d ever let me go. “Shouldn’t you be getting back now?” I gently offered. He suddenly appeared to realise that he had work to do. “Oh, erm, yes, of course.” He didn’t appear to know what his next course of action should be because he started once again to rub the front of his protection so I think at least another spurt of pee had filled his diaper. For a moment he was confused and wasn’t sure what to do. Look, I know I was in no way responsible to the lad but I just thought that at that particular moment he needed a guiding and helping hand. “Do you need time to, er, change first?” I offered. He looked quizzically up at me unable to even form the words for ‘Yes’ or ‘No’. The poor little guy was very distressed and really needed assistance he couldn’t possibly go on stage in the state he was in. Had he returned to the dressing room with such a sagging diaper he risked further humiliation from everyone. He seemed locked in indecision and fear. “Would you like me to help you?” It was an offer I was reluctant to give but he seemed desperate and trapped. I knew it wouldn’t be long before he was needed on stage so something had to be done. “I am a father and have changed my daughters many times over the years. I think you’ll be in safe hands.” Loads of thoughts filled my head all at the same time. Would he think I was being too forward? Worse, would he think I was some kind of pervert? I just remembered my daughters often leaving an excited but damp puddle on the back seat of the car when they’d got anxious or over-excited about something. I needed to offer some solution to his expansive protection. He eventually nodded. A look of shy relief flushed his face as he pulled out a fresh, clean disposable from the box. His jeans were already halfway off so, unbuttoned the top and let them fall to the ground. I asked if there were any wipes and he directed me to the bus’s bathroom where, for such a small space, there were all manner of lotions and potions, oils and sprays, powders and tissues, I grabbed what I thought I needed and returned fully armed. Meanwhile, he’d shuffled out of his plastic pants and pulled at the tapes. His colourful disposable was swollen with urine and certainly wouldn’t have lasted much longer. I offered to take control from there on and he seemed content in letting me get on with it. I removed his bulging diaper, wiped his rather small but resting penis and pale pubic area, which had less hair than I would have expected, and rubbed in some lotion. He giggled, actually giggled, when I sprinkled the powder and I couldn’t help but sort of lecture him about older boys and bullies. As I spoke I unfurled the fresh disposable and it was covered in cute little cartoon animal characters, very childish but they seemed the correct size for him. It brought back memories of my girls and the pleasure I took in making sure they were all clean, dry and tidy before they went off to play. As I fastened the tapes and returned his plastic pants into position I tried to make him realise that having such a charm would lead to continued bullying. They would always be able to use his reliance on it as a way of getting at him. He seemed to appreciate my words and nodded but I could tell from the way he gripped Benny that this was one contact with his childhood he wasn’t ready to dispense with just yet. He pulled up his jeans, fastened the little bear to one of his belt-loops and was ready to return. The outline of the fresh padding barely showed under his jeans. So, I guess the public wouldn’t know of his secret from today’s performance, which was just as well because at that moment the manager threw open the door with a pained expression on his face. “We can’t keep them waiting any longer… we need to get on stage.” Da***, (sorry still can’t say) nodded and turned his handsome face to me. “Thank you very much mister for your help… and in finding Benny… I really appreciate all you’ve done.” “C’mon, c’mon the crowd are getting restless.” The manager urged. So, as he followed his manager, I heard that wonderful rustling sound I’d loved once my own kids had been cleaned, changed and slipped into a pair of plastic pants. Then suddenly I was on my own and left to lock up the tour bus and return to my station outside the dressing room. Even from where I was standing, which was miles away from performance area, I could hear the scream as the boys took the stage. For the next couple of hours that noise never stopped and, despite my total lack of interest in their music, I wanted to see my new found friend (?) perform. Still, even though I couldn’t watch them, in my head I was watching his cute little padded bottom send the girls and boys in the audience into raptures. It was nice looking after a teenage toddler, I doubt our paths will ever cross again but I won’t forget that particular meeting in a hurry. He seemed a nice, unaffected, polite teenage boy in a diaper and as long as he had little Benny, I suspect he’d be okay. *** The End

The Wish! Written by JD © September 2013 Authors Note: This story is something I have been thinking about for a long time and is partially inspired by the movie ‘Mr. Destiny’. It is completely fictional and is not meant to be taken at all realistically. It is just wishful thinking on my part, where I truly wish it could happen for me… well, maybe not exactly this way. This story will contain diaper use but will be non-sexual. Now on to the story! Chapter 1 Today was just one of those days! It started out bad and just got worse as it went along! First off, I was fired today! I wasn’t just fired, I had been chewed out so badly by my boss, that they heard it 3 floors below! Now don’t get me wrong, I knew it had been coming for some time. You see, I work in a large advertising firm which I was hired at straight out of college. When I had first started there, I had been promised the moon and even more. Unfortunately, my skills in advertising turned out to be plain terrible. Because of this, I was never trusted with any of the larger accounts which also meant that my advancement opportunities were slim to none. Somehow though, I managed to keep my head above water and keep my job for 12 years. I scratched by on a decent enough income to allow me and my wife to live in a nicer part of town. But I will go into that more in a minute, as for now, I want to finish saying what I was saying about my job. Somehow, my boss decided that maybe it was time to give me a chance. There was a long standing big account at the firm and they were shopping for a new image. My boss was at his wit’s end trying to help develop this new image, but the company seemed to shoot down every one of his, and the others involved, ideas. On some fluke, he decided to ask me my opinion and for the first time, I had an ingenious idea. When I explained my idea to my boss, he loved it and just like that, I was brought into the team that handled the account. This meant that at the next meeting I was to present my idea to everyone, including the company the account was for. I was so excited and when I told my wife about it, for the first time in a long time, we were happy. For the next several days, I worked my butt off on my idea so that it would be perfect when I presented it. For the most part, everyone was thrilled with the advertising campaign I came up with and because of this, the company kept their account with us. Now that had been a year ago and even though my ideas since then have been less than stellar, I managed to keep the account. If only I hadn’t made that fatal flaw! Of course it was that flaw that kept me the account. Somehow, I managed to get sucked in to a secret relationship with another married woman. I don’t know what is wrong with me; I guess it was just pure lust. Julie was her name, and she was the wife of the CEO of Lewiston’s. Of course this was the company whose account I was working on. It also explained how I managed to keep the account. Julie and I met at that first meeting and she was a total knockout. I knew that we were both married but I couldn’t help notice how perfect she was. She and her husband were both partners in the company, so were both present. Now don’t fault me completely, Julie came on to me, not the other way around. Of course when your husband is like 70 years old and your still in your prime, you might be looking for something on the side as well. So I understood why she did what she did. At first, we tried our best to keep it professional, but soon we found ourselves engaged in a secret affair. Somehow, we managed to keep it hidden until about a week ago. Then the shit hit the fan, her husband found out! I don’t have to tell you how outraged he was, to make this worse, Julie ended it in hopes of reconciling with him. Anyway, this led to Mr. Lewiston ending his account and business with our firm, which now explains why I was fired today! As I was saying, things just got worse! When I came home early from work I found myself locked out of the house. Somehow my wife Sarah, whom I have been married to just before I finished college, heard about me being fired and the scandal I was involved in. I don’t know how she found out about it or the affair as I had thought I had done a good job of hiding it from her. But she had and she was pissed. Things hadn’t been very good for us for a while. I guess one of our biggest issues is that we had been married now for over 12 years and I had yet to give her a child. The thing is, I don’t know why she blamed me as we have both been checked medically and so far they have found no reason for us not to be able conceive. Still, she blamed me for it. As I was saying, things in our home had not been very pleasant lately. There were other things that we fought over but I won’t bore you to death with them. Let’s just say that when she found out about the affair, she was not happy one bit. I had come home to find that my suitcases had been packed and were sitting outside the front door of what had been our home. I tried my best to talk to Sarah about it, but found it hard to do through the front door. She informed me that she had the locks changed and that I would be hearing from her attorney soon! I tried pleading with her but that got me nowhere. She yelled through the door that we were through and I should have thought about the outcome before I had the affair. With all the yelling, I am sure the rest of the neighborhood knew what was happening. With nothing else to do, I angrily grabbed my suitcases off the front porch and threw them into the backseat of my 1998 Saturn. It is an older car which I had been thinking of replacing later this year. Like I said, I had a very bad day and so when the car suddenly broke down in an older part of town, I was pissed! So that brings me to where I am now. I noticed an empty parking lot up ahead and somehow coaxed the car into it before it died completely. Since my cell phone was given to me by my company I worked for, I had to return it before I left that day. This meant I currently had no phone in order to call a tow truck. With no cell phone, I needed to find a phone so I could call Triple AAA. Like I had said, I was in an old part of town where most of the buildings were abandoned and long forgotten, but luck would have it, the parking lot I pulled into was for a small local bar. I got out of the car and headed for the entrance, hoping to find a phone I could use inside. When I entered the bar, it seemed as if I was transferred to a Steven King novel. The minute I walked inside, the hair on the back of my neck stood up. It was dark and smoky inside, even though no one was smoking. In fact, other than the bartender who was cleaning a glass with a towel, there was no one else inside. There was just enough light in the place to make most of it out but it had this spooky sort of glow to it. The bartender himself was kinda scary looking. I was about to back out of the place when the bartender noticed me. “Why, hello there!” He said cheerily. “Do you fancy yourself a drink?” Now the place still creeped me out a bit but the bartender seemed to be a friendly person and it helped calm my nerves a little. I looked at him and cleared my throat a little as I didn’t want to show any of the fear I had been experiencing to the bartender. “Um… A… Sir… I was wondering… I mean, could I use your phone?” I stuttered a little. The bartender smiled at me. “The name is Mike and you are more than welcome to use my phone.” Mike then grabbed something from under the bar and when he sat it on the bar closest to me; I saw that it was a fancy old fashioned dial phone. Feeling better to see a phone instead of a shotgun or cleaver, I withdrew my Triple A card from my wallet to get the number. “Trouble with your car?” Mike asked as he went back to cleaning his glass. Not knowing for sure how he figured out that I was having car trouble, I looked at him in surprise. He just chuckled a little at my expression. “No it’s not magic. I just noticed that the card in your hand is for Triple A.” He explained to me. “Oh” was all I said before dialing the number for Triple A. As soon as I was done with my call Mike put the phone back under the counter. He then turned his attention back at me. “You look like you had a rough day.” He intuited. “You don’t know the half of it si…” “Mike” The bartender corrected me. “Sorry, Mike. You just don’t know how bad this day has been!” “Well, how about a drink while you are waiting for your tow truck to come. It just might help you feel a little better.” Mike suggested. You know, a drink didn’t sound so bad about then. Drinking was something my wife bitched about when I did, so I drank very rarely. “A beer would be nice right now.” I told Mike. “Anything special?” “Naw, anything cold from the tap will do.” I said as I sat on the bar stool nearest the door. Mike got me the beer and set it in front of me. “So you had a bad day, maybe you would like to talk about it? They always say bartenders are the best listeners.” Mike grinned as he said this. I actually found myself more than willing to pour out my feeling to Mike. So I told him about my day and what led up to it. At first I thought he might try and tell me I got what I deserved but he never did. As I finished my beer, I found myself thinking about something that I have found myself thinking about a lot lately. And in the mood of the moment, I told Mike what I was thinking. “You know, sometimes I really hate being an adult! All the responsibility and work that goes with being an adult is just plain awful. I just wish that I could once again be a kid with no responsibilities or worries!” I blurted out. “I know what you are feeling there.” Mike said thoughtfully. “May I make a special drink for you? You could say that it is the house specialty. I promise that it will make your wishes come true.” At this Mike chuckled a little. I thought about his offer for no more than a second. Of course I didn’t believe that the drink would actually make my wishes come true, but I found the offer of it weirdly tantalizing. “Sure, I’ll try it.” I smiled I watched as Mike started to mix several types of what I guess were liquors together. When he was done he set the drink in front of me, I smelled the light fragrance of a summer breeze off of a lake or body of water, come from the drink. Mike then looked at me seriously. “As I said, this is the house specialty and I call it the ‘Wishing Well’.” I then lifted the glass and once again smelled the rich fragrance emanating from the glass. “Bottoms up!” I said before taking a large gulp of the drink. “Wow, not bad!” I said, shocked at the sweet taste of the booze. This of course led me to take an even bigger drink. With more than half of the concoction drank, Mike again looked at me seriously. “So what is that wish again?” He asked me. I smiled a little goofy like as the booze was starting to make me feel a little light headed, which I was finding a little strange. Still I was feeling better than I had all day. “To be a kid again.” I said happily and took another drink and finishing the Wishing Well. “Benji, your wish has been granted.” Mike said through a smile. I was about to scoff at Mike about the idea of my wish coming true when I realized that he just called me by my kid nickname. I hadn’t been called Benji since I was around 13 or 14. “How did you know my name?” I asked as I started to get up from the stool. This turned out to be a mistake though as my head started spinning faster than it ever had in the past. “What did you do to me?” I asked as I was starting to realize that there was more than booze in that drink Mike gave me. Mike just stood there and continued smiling at me as if all was well. Realizing that I needed to get out of there, I tried to walk towards the entrance and before I took a second step, I collapsed to the floor and passed out! Chapter 2 I awoke groaning loudly, not quite sure what had happened or where I was. All I knew at that moment was the dull throbbing coming from my head. I started to get up, but the aching pressure inside my skull increased tremendously and stopped me! So instead, I tried to get my bearings by looking around me. This of course turned out to be harder than I thought it would as it was pretty dark and I couldn’t make out much… well… other than the floor around me that is. Not able to move or see, I just laid there and tried to remember what the world had happened to me! As the seconds then minutes ticked by, the fog in my brain started to dissipate. I found that I now was starting to remember what led me to this point. It was coming back to me slowly and in small pieces, some of it was even out of order. Eventually though, I remembered everything. And I mean everything! “How did I black out on 2 drinks?” I asked myself. I was positive that I only had the one beer and whatever that drink was that Mike had made me. Now, I am not what you call a drinker, but I knew that it normally took 3 drinks before I even feel light headed. So the question is, why was I so affected by just the two drinks? “Wait a minute…” I said out loud to no one in particular. “He put something in that drink he made me!” This had to be the only explanation. Mike must have roofied me! Now the question was… Why? “Maybe he did it to rob me.” I thought to myself. This seemed like the most likely reason for drugging me. I started to reach for my wallet but I found this much harder than it should be. It felt as if someone had wrapped me in large heavy blankets! I was able to see just enough to make out that it wasn’t blankets, but clothing. It was as if while I was out, Mike had dressed me in a fat man’s clothing. This was what made it difficult to find my wallet as my hands were covered by my shirt sleeves and I couldn’t find my back pants pocket through all that clothing. This new discovery made me temporarily forget about my wallet. Again I tried to get up but instead of trying to stand, I just tried to sit up. I did this very slowly though, to minimize the pain in my head. As I sat up, I tried to move the clothing a little so that it wouldn’t hinder me. I don’t know why I didn’t notice it sooner, but it suddenly came to my attention that as I sat up that the swaddle of clothing I was in was soaked! Now believe me or not, this really didn’t surprise me. Wetting my bed after a night out drinking wasn’t new for me. In fact, this was one of those things my wife despised about me. Because I had wet myself, all the clothing I was dressed in became heavy and harder to move. I swear that all this clothing soaked up enough of my pee that it could have been enough to fill Lake Michigan! Eventually though, I was able to sit up. I also found that my eyes were starting to adjust to the darkness. I could just make out where the bar stool I had been sitting on had been, but was now missing. In fact, all the stools were missing. It was as if Mike had put them all in the backroom before turning off the lights and leaving me where I collapsed. The place was void of windows so the sunlight didn’t make it into the old bar. Still, there seemed to be some light that was finding its way into the old bar. Don’t ask me where it was coming from because I don’t know. It was just enough light to barely make out the area around me. I suddenly found myself curious about the time. Hoping that I still had my watch, as it was only a cheap one, I tried to pull the left sleeve of the large shirt up enough to see my watch. Amazingly, as soon as my arm was untangled from the shirt, my watch slipped off my wrist and fell into the pile of clothing that surrounded me. Luckily it fell on top of the clothing and my eyes were adjusted enough to the darkness that I was able to see where it fell. As I picked up my watch, I was shocked to find that it was larger than it should be! I was starting to feel like I was living in a ‘Twilight Zone’ episode! Trying to shake it off, I found the button that made the watch light up. I was flabbergasted to see that it was now past 3am in the morning. “Damn! I have been lying on this hard floor for over 8 hours!” I shouted out. I was starting to get very angry. “How could that guy just leave me on the floor like this?!” Wanting to get off that floor more than ever, I tried to once again stand up. Like I had just moments before when I was sitting up, I arranged the clothing so that it didn’t hinder me as I stood. Now standing, the wet pants and underwear that I had been dressed in, dropped straight to the floor. I now found myself in only a very large dress shirt! The one nice thing about it being so large, it covered my nudity. In fact, it came down to my ankles as if it were a dress. As I stepped out of my pants and underwear that was still at my feet, I also stepped out of my shoes socks. This boggled my mind as a question formed in my mind. “Why would Mike put me in these ridiculous clothes and socks and shoes?” I thought to myself. I mean there was no explanation, unless the guy got off on freaking out his customers. Something was starting to come forward in my mind that would explain everything, but I found it completely improbable. As I thought this though, something that Sherlock Holmes said, came to me. "When you have eliminated everything else, the impossible, however improbable, must be the truth.” Still, I wasn’t yet ready to face the facts. Instead, I decided that I needed to get out of this place pronto! I guess you could say that I was starting to feel like I had been heebe jeebed. I knew that my clothes were in my car so I decided to go get a fresh change of clothing. Since my watch would no longer fit my wrist, I tightened it my upper arm. I then searched the pants and eventually located my car keys and my wallet. And after checking the latter, I found that everything was still in it. As for everything else, I decided to just leave it where I was. I rolled up my shirt sleeves and then made my way to the exit. I expected that it would most likely be locked but I had to try! Like everything else, the door seemed larger than before! At least the lock on it was just a thumb bolt and soon I found myself outside in the moonlight. Now able to see because of the light coming from the moon, I checked out everything around me. Again I got this weird sensation that something was completely wrong! Everything outside though looked the same as it had before I went into the bar, but still, there was something terribly wrong! When I turned back towards the bar, a shiver ran down my spine! The bar that I had entered several hours ago, now appeared to be another abandoned building like the others that surrounded it. “What the fuck?” This night was getting weirder and weirder. Again I decided I needed to get the hell out of here and headed around the side of the building where I parked my car earlier. As I turned the corner, I crossed my fingers and hoped that whatever trouble it was having earlier might have somehow righted itself. As soon as I completely turned the corner though, I found how much worse this day could get! My car was still where I left it, but it had been completely stripped! It was now nothing more but an empty shell. I could also see that the thieves had even made off with my suitcases which contained my stuff! “Damn! Damn! Damn!” I shouted in frustration. “Why does all this shit have to happen to me?!” My shouting woke up some Bum that had been sleeping next to the side of the building. “What’s your problem kid?” He groaned as he got up and looked at me. I glared at the Bum, my eyes trying burn holes through his skull. “My problem is that some motherfucker stripped my car!” The Bum just looked at me quizzically. “Boy, aren’t you a little young to be driving?” He asked me seriously. I chose to ignore his ridiculous comment and find out if he might have seen the person or persons that stripped my car. “You didn’t by any chance see who stripped this car?” I asked the Bum while pointing to my Saturn’s empty shell. The Bum scratched his head and looked at me in confusion before answering my question. “I’m sorry kid, but I think it was like that when I got here.” “I am not a kid! Are you so drunk that you can’t tell that I am a 39 year old male?!” I asked feeling a little insulted. The guy just stared at me as if I had 2 heads! “Boy! I am too tired for all these games!” He then once again laid back down on the ground and appeared to immediately fall back to sleep. I stood there and stewed in my anger over all my bad luck. It didn’t help that the Bum kept referring to me like some little kid! It was at this moment when the lights finally came on inside my head and I was able to finally connect all the dots! I am not sure how in the world it happened, but somehow it had! All the pieces like a puzzle came together perfectly. The clothes, my watch, my socks and shoes, even the door. Everything was starting to make sense, even if it was completely crazy. Then, I remembered what Mike had said to me as I was drinking that mixed drink he made for me. He called the drink the ‘Wishing Well’ and he said that it would grant me my wish. “It can’t be possible?” I found myself disbelieving. “It has to be a bad dream!” I tried to tell myself, but I couldn’t make myself believe it. For the first time since I awoke on that hard floor, I took a good look at myself. Somehow, the impossible had happened. At the moment I wasn’t sure how young I actually was without being able to see my face. All I knew was, that somehow, I received the wish I had asked for. And as I fell into a trance, I realized that through some weird sort of magic that I couldn’t even begin to comprehend; I was no longer an adult but was in fact… a kid again! Chapter 3 Suddenly the quiet stillness of the night was broken by the sound of rapid fire! “Gun shots!” I thought to myself as the loud sound brought me out of my stupor. From the sounds of the shots, I figured that they must have come from something like an Uzi. The loud shots woke up the Bum again and he looked at me as if I was the one who awoke him. He didn’t get a chance to voice his anger at being re-awoken because suddenly more gunfire went off! This time it seemed even closer than the first. I watched as the Bum jumped to his feet and started to flee. It wasn’t until more gun shots rang through the night that I decided maybe he had the right idea. Not even caring that I was barefoot, I too fled the area. With nowhere else to go, I chased after the Bum. As I was running, I felt my stupid watch slip from my upper arm, where I tightened it, and down my wrist, where it then fell to the ground. I was so scared of being shot though, I didn’t think twice of stopping for it or going back and getting it. Besides, it was only a cheap $20 watch anyway. We were several blocks away from the old bar before we finally stopped running! “That was a close call boy!” The Bum panted loudly. Even though he was out of breath, I found myself barely panting. I guess that is one good thing about being young! Even though I did not like being referred to as a kid, I decided that at the moment, it was better to just drop it. Instead, I decided to ask him what all the gunshots were about back there. “Uh sir…” I started to say but the Bum interrupted me. “That’s Barney.” He introduced himself. “Okay, Barney then.” I then offered my hand in friendship, which he then shook. “So Barney, what were all those gunshots back there about?” “Gangs!” He simply answered. I knew that gangs existed but other than on T.V., I never had been this close to any. A shiver ran up my spine as I thought how close I came to being in the middle of some gang war! I knew right then and there, that the best and safest thing to do, was to get off the street. “Maybe I could hail a cab and have it take me to a nice hotel.” I thought to myself. Once there, I could crawl into bed and hope that by the time the sun rises, I would find that this all was some sort of weird dream. There was one problem though! While running in my fear of being shot, I had not only dropped my keys, but also my wallet. I was now on the streets penniless! “What am I going to do now?” It wasn’t until Barney responded that I even knew I had said this out loud. “Well, I guess I could put you up in my place for one night.” He offered. “Your place?” I asked confused. “If you have a place, why were you sleeping back there?” “Oh that… I just got tired is all.” And the way Barney said this; you would think it was normal to sleep on the ground on the side of a building. “I have a place a couple blocks from here.” Barney added. He then started off, waving me to follow him. I wasn’t really sure I wanted to go to Barney’s place, for all I knew it was another side of a building. What I really wanted was to go back and try to find my wallet. I had over a hundred dollars and my credit cards inside of it. The problem was, even if I wasn’t scared of being shot, I would still have trouble backtracking to the bar. You see… I was completely lost and had no idea where I was or the way back to the bar. So I did the only thing I could, I followed Barney to his place. As we walked, Barney told me how nice his place was and how lucky he was able to get it. A part of me wondered if Barney was one of those weird eccentrics and maybe he really did have a nice place. So, I allowed my hopes to get up. Surprise! Surprise! When we finally get to Barney’s place, I was disappointed to find out that it was nothing more than a large wooden crate box. I watched as Barney slunk down and disappeared behind what looked like an old army blanket. Sighing, I followed him. It turned out that the blanket was covering the doorway inside the crate. As I entered Barney’s humble home, I was shocked to see how cozy it was inside! The floor was actual carpet. There was a beanbag chair in one corner and an old small mattress that took up most of the box. And the thing that made it possible to see everything… a taplight. If I really were a kid, this place would have been a cool fort! It smelled a little musty and of bad BO. Then again, I probably didn’t smell like a rose either! Seeing the mattress, I suddenly realized how tired I was. Everything that led up to this point had completely exhausted me. I know I had slept several hours earlier, but for some reason, I didn’t feel rested one bit from it. Anyway, I was sure the mattress was not clean, even so, it suddenly looked very inviting. Barney somehow figured out what I was thinking. “Sorry boy! The bed is mine!” He said possessively. He then sniffed me. “Besides, from the smell of you, I wouldn’t trust you sleeping in it.” He stated very seriously. I was about to say something snotty to Barney but I decided it was better to just drop it. “Where can I sleep then?” I asked him. Barney looked around his place and seemed to be considering all his options. “You can sleep on the beanbag.” He finally stated. He then eyed me before adding, “And if you have to pee, do it outside!” Barney then stretched out on his mattress and quickly fell asleep. With no other choice, I tried to get as comfortable as I could on the beanbag chair before sending a quick prayer to GOD. I prayed that when I awoke that all of this would turn out to be a bad nightmare and that I would find myself in my own bed next to my wife. Then, I closed my eyes and I too, fell asleep! Chapter 4 I awoke stiff and cold, early the next morning and boy was it COLD! Somehow we went from around 60 degrees last night to about 30 degrees that morning. Enough of the early morning light made it inside the crate that I was able to see Barney; who was still snoring logs in his bed. At first, I thought it was that what woke me. That turned out to be wishful thinking as it turned out that it was the cold wetness I felt all over my lower region, which woke me. This wetness in the cold temperatures was freezing me to the bone. “Damn it! I wet myself again!” I grumbled loudly. At first I thought I had awoke Barney as he moved a little and mumbled something. I was relieved when a few seconds later he started snoring again. I really didn’t want to have to explain to some bum that I peed all over his beanbag chair. I decided that it was time to leave. Silently, I slipped past Barney and out into the cool morning air. If I had thought I was cold before inside the crate, I soon found it was warm compared to outside. I was much colder now. It didn’t help that it was a windy chilly morning and that I was not wearing any pants and I was wet. If I thought not having pants was bad, I found that not having shoes was unbearable. I knew that if I didn’t find some dry clothes and shoes quick, I was going to freeze. “Too bad I lost my wallet last night!” I thought to myself. As I looked around me, I had no clue where I was. I considered for a moment of trying to backtrack to my car (What was left of it.) and see if I could find my wallet, but truthfully, I wasn’t too sure I could. Besides, what was the chance of my wallet still being where I dropped it? Most likely it was slim to none. In the end, I decided to get out of the alley. I figured that once I got to the street, I might be able to figure out where I was. So, I wrapped my arms around myself trying to stay warm. After a moments decision, I chose a direction and set out. As I got closer to the street ahead of me, I noticed an occasional car pass by the alley. Seeing the cars, I picked up the pace. Now with the street a few feet from me, I started to worry about being seen. I wasn’t sure what people would do when they saw me. I wasn’t very presentable. In fact, the way I looked, I was going to get people’s attention and it wasn’t going to be good! Then add the fact that I looked like a little kid. “Damn! What am I going to do?” I worried silently to myself. “I can’t just go out there like this! But I can’t stay like this either; otherwise I am going to freeze!” I muttered to myself. I really didn’t know what to do. Why can’t real life be like TV, where everything always seems to work out for the main character? For instance on TV, if somebody needed a change of clothing, they would just snatch them from the nearest clothesline. Unfortunately, there was not a clothesline in sight. There was one good thing… well maybe it was a bad thing. Anyway, at least my feet were now so numb from the cold, that I barely noticed the discomfort from them. The only thing in the alley was junk and some dumpsters. I wasn’t about to go dumpster diving. Besides I doubted that I would find any clothes my size in them. This meant I would either have to hide out until it got dark again, which I could then try to find some clothes. Or, I would have to go and try to finds some now and hope no one would call the police on me. One way or another, I would most likely have to steal them and I wasn’t too thrilled about this. The coldness that was chilling me to the bone made the decision for me. I knew that I couldn’t wait that long. So chancing it, I left the relative safety of the alleyway. Looking up and down the almost deserted street, I tried to decide which way to go. To the right of me, it looked dead but to the left of me, I could see a busier street ahead. I figured I should be able to find something up that way. Again, hugging myself to stay warm, I made my way towards the busy intersection ahead. A few cars passed me but no one stopped or seemed to notice me. Feeling a little braver, I found myself feeling less conscious about the way I looked. When I finally made it to the corner I checked the street sign. I found out that the street I was currently on was called N. Elizabeth and the crossroad was W. Fulton. I never heard of N. Elizabeth but I had heard of W. Fulton. I knew that it was a major street and it went almost all the way downtown. I also noticed for the first time that I could see some of the Skyscrapers. Not knowing what else to do, I turned onto Fulton and headed towards downtown. I kept my eye out for anyplace that might have a change of clothing. For the most part though, the only open businesses on the street were bars, liquor stores, and cheap motels. None of which could help me out in the clothing department. Then I saw it… A few blocks ahead stood an old church. I knew that churches usually received clothing donations and I might be lucky and find something at the one ahead of me. Already feeling better at possibility of clean fitting clothes, I refused to allow myself to think it might be locked. Besides, weren’t churches supposed to be open all the time for the wandering soul that needs to be saved? As I reached the front door, I sent a quick prayer to God. I guess he wasn’t listening as the door didn’t budge. “Damn it! Now what?” I swore out loud. I decided to take a closer look at the building to see if I could find a way inside the church. Unfortunately, the other 2 doors that led into it were locked as well. Desperate and no other way, I decided to break a small basement window in the back of the church. I figured here no one could see me and what I was doing. Not wanting to be cut by the glass, I checked the dumpster for anything I could use to knock the window pane out. When I saw the old choir robe inside the dumpster, I felt like things may be looking up finally. The robe had been torn which was probably why they threw it out. It didn’t matter as it would still work for me. I tore off a section of the robe and wrapped it around my small fist. I made sure my fist was protected by the cloth. I then hit the window pane with my covered fist and was relieved to hear the tinkling sound of broken glass. I even made sure to remove all the shards of glass that hadn’t fallen to the basement floor. I was about to enter through the window but when I saw the broken glass below, I changed my mind. I un-wrapped the cloth from my fist and proceeded to wrap my foot in it. I then tore off another section of the robe and wrapped my other foot in it. Now with my feet protected and warming up, I laid the rest of the torn robe over the window sill. This was so that I could squeeze through without cutting myself on any possible remaining glass. As I slipped inside, I dropped to the floor below. Somehow, by the grace of God, I didn’t injure myself. Now inside, I wasn’t sure where to maybe find any clothes they might have. Not knowing what else to do, I started searching the church. I of course began in the basement. I ended up finding mostly old junk, but no clothes. I headed up the stairs and ended up in the Fellowship Hall. It was a large room with several doors that led off of it. The larger doors I was sure led to the Sanctuary. I was pretty sure I wouldn’t find what I wanted in there. So I started to check the other doors. The first door led into a large coat closet. Other than a few old coats and large pair of scuffed brown good shoes, there was nothing in it. The next door turned out to be locked, so I went on to the next door. As I checked each of the doors, I came across some smaller rooms which looked like bible study rooms. I found the church kitchen. I came across what obviously was the nursery. When I found the bathrooms, I decided that I could at least clean myself up. I also realized that I suddenly needed to desperately pee. I don’t know why I didn’t notice it before. I guess it must have been the suggestion the bathroom gave, when I saw it? I emptied my bladder and flushed the toilet once I was done. Checking around the bathroom, I found a hand towel and using the sink, I began to try and clean myself up a little. After I was finished, I dried myself off the best I could with that hand towel. I just wished I didn’t have to put that dirty shirt back on, but I had nothing else to wear yet. As I came out of the bathroom, I was given the scare of my life when someone cleared their throat. I guess the person thought it was pretty funny how bad they scared me. He was laughing quite animatedly. I am just glad I had just emptied my bladder as I would have definitely peed all over myself if I hadn’t. As my heart returned to its normal place in my chest, I glared at the guy who scared me. It was now that I recognized who the guy was. He was dressed in minister/priest robes, but there was no doubting that it was the bartender from last night. Other than chuckling lightly to himself, he didn’t say anything as he stood before me. As I realized that it was truly him, I found myself getting angrier by the second. “It’s Mike, right?” I snapped. “Right you are Benji.” He smiled as he said this. “How do you know my name?!” I shouted at him. I didn’t wait for him to answer though and fired my next question at him. “What the world did you do to me? I demand you turn me back into my adult self!” “I am sorry Benji, I can’t do that. You made a wish and we have to let the wish be carried out to its conclusion.” Mike said in a mysterious way that led me to believe he wasn’t telling me something. “What if I don’t want it anymore?” I was almost pleading at this point. “Besides, this wasn’t what I actually pictured. I was thinking it would be more like going back into the past to when I was originally a kid. Instead, you made me a kid in the present! Shoot, where am I supposed to go. My parents aren’t even alive anymore! I don’t have anyone!” At this point I broke down and started to cry. “I am sorry Benji that it wasn’t what you exactly expected. What it is though, is what you needed!” Mike was no longer laughing but seemed to be serene. “You wanted no responsibility and a chance at a 2nd childhood. It is now up to destiny where this might lead.” “But, I don’t know what to do.” I begged. Mike then smiled and pointed towards a door I had yet to look in. “How about some clean clothes.” I went and checked the door and found it unlocked. As the door opened, I was happy to discover boxes and boxes of clothing. Before I entered the room though, Mike stopped me. “Benji, you better move quickly. You tripped a burglar alarm and the police are on their way.” “How much time do I have?” I asked worried. “Not enough!” And as Mike said this, he vanished from sight. At this, I rushed to find me something to wear! I just hoped that I could get something and get out of there before the police arrived! Chapter 5 Wanting to not waste any time, I decided not to be too picky. When I found a pair of brown corduroy pants, a belt, and a warm pull over shirt that looked to be about my size, I quickly got dressed. Unfortunately, they didn’t have any shoes that would fit me. They were either way too big for my feet or they were too small. Not knowing what else to do, I decided I would just have to make do with the bound cloth I had wrapped my feet in earlier. I just hoped that I could find some proper shoes at some point. Anyway, I was just buckling the belt when I heard police sirens. From the sound of it, they were quickly approaching. “Damn! They are here already!” I freaked out. Not knowing what else to do, I ran to the back of the church and exited out the back door. Without thinking about it, I took off down the alley. I had hoped to get far enough away before the police made it there. The problem was, that I in my attempt to escape, ran right into an officer who had been coming around to the back of the church. I tried my best to escape but he grabbed me and wasn’t about to let go. The officer, who looked to be about 20 years old and fresh out of the academy, held me firmly in his grasp. “Son, calm down!” The young officer instructed me. “I am not your son!” I spat. “I am old enough to be your father!” “Well Dad, how about you tell me what you are doing back here!” The officer stated dryly. I didn’t find the officer’s remark very funny. I knew I looked like a kid to this cop, but that didn’t stop me from wanting the respect that I normally had as an adult. “If I let you go, will you calm down and tell me what you were doing back here?” I wanted to yell at him and tell the officer that he did not have a deal, but I knew that would not help my situation. So, with a look of disgust, I succumb to the officer’s wishes. I stopped trying to fight him and relaxed in his arms. For his part, the officer kept his word and let go of me. He still made sure I was in arm’s length in case I decided to try and flee. He looked me up and down; I guess that was when he saw my cloth-bound feet. “What happened to your shoes son?” He asked eyeing my feet curiously. Again I chose not to answer him. He scowled then his eye seemed to catch something. It turned out that what he saw was the broken basement window. “Did you do that son?” He asked me sharply and nodded towards the broken window. I bit my tongue this time at his use of ‘Son’. Instead of looking over at the window, I just stared silently at the cop. I knew what my rights were and one of them was my right to remain silent. I wasn’t about to say anything that would incriminate myself. The officer took my bout of silence as a confession. He reached out and grabbed my shoulder with a large hand. With his other hand, he grabbed his radio. “Hey Jim, I think I found our perp out back. It appears he broke a basement window.” “Okay Tom, everything out front looks good.” A voice came over the radio. “Do you need any assistance?” “No, it is just a kid. Looks like he broke a window.” Tom reported. “Are you sure he is alone?” Jim voice came back over the radio. Tom was about to respond when he noticed that the back door I had exited through was ajar. “I am not sure but I think so. The back door is ajar so he or someone had been inside. The kid ain’t talking though. I guess I am going to need you after all.” A second later a police car pulled into the Alley. Tom led me to the back door of the police car. He kept one hand holding my shoulder with a firm grip and used the other to open the door. “Alright, in you go.” And he half pushed me inside the backseat. Jim, who had driven the car around to the alley, got out and joined Tom as they entered through the open back door. They were gone inside the church for several minutes before returning to the police car. Jim got behind the wheel of the police car and Tom got in on the passenger side. It was obvious that Jim was the senior partner. He looked like he was in his mid-fifties. Before he started the police car up, Jim got on the radio and let dispatch know that they found just me, a kid at the scene. That it appeared that I had broken into the church through a basement window in back and that I exited through the rear door. He reported that they didn’t find any signs of other intruders. “10 four.” Dispatch responded. “Dispatch do you wish us to stay here until someone comes and secures the church?” Jim asked. “No, that will not be necessary. Please bring the kid in.” “Alright, will do.” Jim replied and then started the car. “Boy, they keep getting younger and younger!” Tom sighed as his partner pulled the police car out of the Alley and onto the street. “I know what you mean partner.” Jim nodded. After that, neither partner spoke again until we pulled into the parking lot of the police precinct. “If you want, I will take him in.” Tom offered as soon as they parked. “Okay, I guess I will just wait out here for you.” Jim happily accepted as he fished a book out of the glove compartment. And as Jim began to read, Tom let me out. For a brief second, I considered fleeing but I wasn’t too sure I would get too far before I was captured again. Even if I did get away, where would I go? I was in a real mess! Besides, Tom wasn’t going to let me get away. Just like he did when he directed me into the police car, Tom firmly grabbed hold of my shoulder as I got out of the car. He then led me inside the police station. As we walked inside the station, I saw a bench with a couple young guys and an older woman sitting on it. It wasn’t until we passed them that I noticed that all three of them were handcuffed to the bench. I found myself wondering what they were here for. Seeing those handcuffed prisoners made me really start to think. And as Tom led me towards the desk Sergeant I began to really worry. “For the first time in my life, I am going to have a record!” I thought to myself. You know, that was one thing that I could be proud of. Up until now, I was never in trouble with the law. Of course this doesn’t mean I never did things that could get me in trouble with the law. As a child I shoplifted a few times, that is until I got caught. The store security guard scared me so bad that it left a lasting impression on me and I never stole again. I did some other things as a kid that I wasn’t too proud of but for the most part I was a good kid and I became a law abiding adult. “…so where do you want to put him?” Tom asked. I caught the tail end of the discussion between Tom and the desk Sergeant. I had been so caught up in my thoughts I hadn’t even realized that the two had been talking until now. “The drunk tank isn’t empty, so we can’t put him there.” The desk Sergeant informed Tom. “I tell you what, put him into interrogation room 3 and I will let the Lieutenant know he is in there.” He suggested. Tom found this acceptable and after thanking the Sergeant, he directed me further into the police station. When we stopped at a door that I figured was interrogation room 3, he opened it and led me inside. The room was empty except for a table with a chair at each end. Now I had thought he was just going to lock me inside but when he led me over to one of the chairs, I found out different. Tom instructed me to sit in the chair and when I did, he grabbed a cuff that was lying on the floor and attached it to my leg. The other end of the cuff was attached to a ring anchored into the floor. “Stay there!” Tom instructed me and his tone said very clearly, don’t mess with me. I found this ridiculous, I mean where in the world was I going to be able to go with my leg cuffed to the floor like it was? Maybe the cop thought I was some great escape artist! “The Lieutenant should be in here shortly.” Tom said, interrupting my thoughts. He then walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him. It wasn’t until I heard the door lock that I realized how badly I needed to Pee! Chapter 6 “What is it about not noticing you have to pee until you are locked into a room by yourself?” I said out loud to the empty room. Thinking about this reminded me of something from when I was a kid. I remembered many times being sent down to our basement to get something and no sooner then I got down there, I would suddenly need to pee. This made it difficult to keep my mind on what I was down there for. A few times I even ended up peeing my pants before locating what I was sent down there to find. This of course aggravated my mother! She would yell at me and demand to know why I just didn’t come back up and pee in the toilet. For some reason I never knew the answer to this question. But because of this, my mom started to remind me to pee, before sending me downstairs to the basement. If you hadn’t figured it out by now, as a kid, I had a very small bladder. This was the reason why I wet the bed every night according to my Pediatrician back then. He told me that I needed to stretch my bladder and make it stronger. In order to accomplish this, I was told to hold my bladder for a period of time anytime I felt the need to go. This was of course supposed to stretch my bladder out. Instead, for me it just led to more pants wetting accidents. By the time I was 10 years old, Mom gave up on the bladder stretching exercises and just had me go pee right away. She figured it was better than me constantly wetting my pants. This of course kept my bladder small for several more years and even though my pants wetting accidents dwindled, I still occasionally wasn’t able to hold it long enough at times to make it to the toilet. “Boy! All this thought on my bladder problems as a kid isn’t helping with my need to pee!” I said through pursed lips as I tried to mentally close shut my bladder. Unfortunately, I don’t think it was really working all that well. “Why did he have to give me my old bladder problem as well as make me a kid again?!” I grumbled loudly as I felt my bladder muscles strain at the building pressure. I was told that the Lieutenant would be in shortly, so I was doing my best to hold it. But as the pressure and need to release increased, I found it harder and harder to do so. After about 10 minutes of sitting in that room, I started to worry that the Lieutenant would not be in right away like I was told. Feeling my bladder muscles weakening, I reached down and grabbed ahold of myself in hopes of clamping off the impending flow! I knew from past experience that it was only a matter of time before I wet myself. Since I was not able to go over and pound on the door due to the ankle cuff, I tired yelling as loud as I could. “PLEASE SOMEONE! I NEED TO USE THE BATHROOM!” I then listened to see if anyone was coming to let me out but after several seconds went by and no one came, I decided they must have not heard me. So I tried yelling again, this time louder. “PLEASE! I REALLY REALLY NEED TO PEE!” I cried again to no avail. At this, I realized that either no one could hear me outside this room or they just didn’t care. It was bad enough that I still occasionally wet the bed but I was about to embarrass myself even more! I hadn’t wet my pants since I was 15 and that last time had been the most embarrassing accident yet! I had been in math class and no matter how many times I begged to be allowed to use the bathroom; Mrs. Stacey refused to let me go. She informed me that was what the breaks between classes were meant for. Now if it hadn’t been for the fact that my need came only 15 minutes into class, she may have let me go but this was not the case. Due to the fact that I occasionally found myself in this boat many times ever since I had started Junior High, most of the kids in the classroom knew what I was about to do. I could hear the giggling and snickering as I began to squirm in my seat more and more. Finally after almost 6 minutes of trying my best to hold back the floodgates, I finally lost the battle and I quickly soaked my pants. Because my seat had been one of those with the open slots in the bottom of it, it didn’t take long for the pee to make it to them and start to drip steadily to the floor. As the puddle grew under my desk, kids who were close by me jumped from their desk so that they wouldn’t end up getting caught in my pee puddle. The rest of the class broke out in complete laughter. I was so humiliated that day, that I refused to go back school for the next couple days. It wasn’t until after sitting down with my mother, the school counselor, and the vice principal; that I agreed to come back to school. It was agreed that I would be allowed to use the bathroom anytime I needed; that I just had to ask. The counselor informed my teachers of this decision and after that, life got a lot easier for me. Of course I was made fun of for my accident but this wasn’t new for me. So here I was locked in this room and cuffed to the floor and I knew that at any moment I was going to wet my pants… Well actually, I wasn’t quite sure whose pants they were. I squeezed myself even tighter as I felt a small trickle of urine enter my pants. The only thing this action did was cause me some considerable pain. Finally, after about 20 minutes in the room, I lost complete control of my bladder. As the hot urine gushed into my pants, tears of shame ran down my face. I of course quickly had a puddle of pee form on the floor underneath the seat I had been sitting in. This of course reminded me again of wetting myself during school. Even though the kids were not there to laugh at me, I still found myself picturing their laughing faces in my mind. They were laughing and pointing at me and calling me names. My face just continued to burn in shame! Not more than 10 minutes later, the Lieutenant walked into the room! Chapter 7 “My name is Lieutenant Grant.” He stated as soon as he walked into the room without even really looking at me. He in fact was flipping through a couple pages through a folder. If that folder was all about me, I was wondering how they could have filled a couple pages like that already without knowing who I was or anything about me. “Can you tell me your name son?” The officer asked and he finally looked up at me. While waiting for me to answer, he took a seat across from me. At first I didn’t say anything, I just watched as he withdrew a small pad of paper and a pen from his pocket. It wasn’t until the Lieutenant looked back at me in such a way that I can’t even describe, that I felt I had to cooperate or else! “My name is Benjamin Fuller, but I go by Ben.” I quickly informed the Lieutenant. I was grateful for one thing; he had yet to notice my very wet condition. Then again, it was mostly hidden by the table. The puddle on the other hand was large and very noticeable under my chair. For the moment though, it still seemed to be unnoticed. When I gave the Lieutenant my name, he wrote it on that pad of paper of his. He then took a moment to study me (At least that is what it looked like to me.) and I decided to do the same with him. He was roughly the same age as I was… well… That was before I was turned into a twerp by Mike! The Lieutenant was in plain clothes and wore slacks and a polo shirt. The thing that stuck out the most was that he had a gravelly voice as if he smoked a lot of cigarettes in his life. “Age?” He asked without looking up from his pad he was writing on. “39” I said without even thinking about it first. This of course got the Lieutenants attention and as he looked up from his pad he was writing on and at me, I felt the piercing stare he was giving me. I could tell this was one guy that didn’t like jokes. He cleared his throat before saying, “Son, I am not playing games here! So stop playing games with me! Now please tell me your correct age.” As frightening as he was, I wasn’t one to be pushed around either. Especially after one of the worst 24hr periods of my life! So I just returned his look and repeated with all sincerity my real age. “I said my age was 39, so take it or leave it!” The Lieutenant did not look happy one bit and just scribbled something into his notebook before continuing with his questioning. “So, how about telling me why you broke into the church?” He asked and I could hear a little aggravation in his voice. I was about to deny that I broke into the church, then I realized that my fingerprints must be all over the inside of the church. I thought about this question for a moment or two. I mean it might be better for me to be honest and just tell the truth, that I was there to get some clothes. Then again, if I told him that, I would have to explain why I needed the clothes. This would then lead to the fact that I was wondering the streets without any clothes in the first place and he would be wondering why. I mean, he didn’t believe me when I tried to tell him how old I was, there was no way he was going to believe everything that had happened to me since I met Mike. All I would do was infuriate him more and I was sure that was something that I definitely did not want to do! So, not knowing what else to say, I just shrugged my shoulders. As I expected, this irritated the Lieutenant very much. I don’t know why, but I remembered when I was a kid the first time around that when I did this with my mother, she would get so upset that she would at times smack me. The look on the Lieutenant’s face looked almost the same as my mother’s before she reached out and struck me! Before the Lieutenant could say anything or for that matter hit me, he was interrupted by a knock on the door. Still looking very irritated, he got up to answer it. When he opened the door, I saw a uniformed officer standing there and he was accompanied by a Priest. I watched as the officer and the Lieutenant started to speak in whispers. I tried to listen in but was not able to really make out anything. The Lieutenant sighed suddenly and looked a little upset but he waved the Priest into the room. The other officer then left, closing the door behind him. Since there was only one other chair in the room, the Lieutenant offered it to the Priest who graciously took the offered chair. “This is Father Caleb.” Lieutenant Grant said as he introduced me to the Priest. He is the Priest of ‘Holy Trinity’, the church you found the need to break into and vandalize and God knows what else!” And the way he said this, it was very obvious that he thought I was the worst of the worst, when it came to criminals. “Now… Now… Lieutenant. Can’t you see that you are scaring the boy?” Father Caleb said kindly. He then gave me a warm smile. “You look like a good boy.” At this, I frowned. I wasn’t sure what to think of this Priest and if he was playing a game with me. Father Caleb though seemed to be determined to get on my good side. Again he smiled at me. “Don’t worry, I can tell when I see a good boy. You must have really been in dire need if you had to break into the Church.” I wasn’t sure but I think Father Caleb’s niceness was working on me. “Yes Sir.” I said, finally finding my voice. Then I quickly added, “I will pay for the broken window.” The Priest just nodded his head in agreement. “What is your name son?” He asked kindly. “Benjamin Fuller.” I said, giving my full name again without thinking. “Do you mind if I call you Ben?” He asked and I nodded my head letting him know that I didn’t mind. “So how old are you Ben?” Being called a liar not more than 10 or 15 minutes ago on the very same question, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to answer it this time truthfully. Up to now, Father Caleb thinks I am a good boy and seems to believe what I am telling him. The last thing I wanted to do was to jeopardize all of that because of the impossible implausibility of me actually being 39 years old. “Sir, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” I finally said as I really didn’t want to lie or just not say anything. “How about giving me the chance to believe you or not?” “Okay, but just know that I warned you and that I am not kidding about this or trying to play a game with you.” I explained before revealing my age to him. “Yesterday I was a 39 year old man and very early this morning I woke up and found myself the young boy you see now before you.” I was sure that Father Caleb was going to have the same reaction to my response as the Lieutenant had. Instead, I was surprised when he just nodded his head as it was something that happened every day. Even the Lieutenant Grant seemed surprised that the Priest just seemed to accept this. Instead of questioning me anymore about that, Father Caleb went on with his questioning. “Now as I was saying earlier, I can see that you are a good boy and that you must have been in desperate need if you had to break into the church. Could you tell me what your need was and if we can still help you?” Father Caleb asked with sincerity. “Well… I… Um…” I tried to explain why I broke in but again, I found it hard to do. This time it was more due to embarrassment then to disbelief. “Go on Son.” “Well… I… uh…” I then lowered my voice and in an almost whisper, I finally told him why I broke in. “When I woke up as a kid, my adult clothes no longer fit me and I really needed some clothes that would fit me. I was hopeful that maybe I would find something in the Church that I could wear and I found these clothes.” I then pointed at myself. This of course made both the Lieutenant and Father Caleb look at me and I worried for a moment that they might have noticed that I peed my pants. Of course I knew I wouldn’t be able to hide that fact forever. Once again thinking about my wet condition reminded me of when I was a kid and wet my pants. In the beginning my parents were very understanding about my wetting problems. But then as I got older and the problem continued, they started to not be so understanding. It didn’t help when the doctors couldn’t find any real physical reason for causing my problem. Eventually it was believed that I was doing it on purpose for attention or because I was lazy. When I got around 7 years old, my parents, who were tired of my wetting problem, took me to a specialist that a friend recommended. It was this specialist that explained to them that I had an extremely small and weak bladder for a child my age. He felt that this was my biggest obstacle and that began my bladder stretching exercises. He also recommended that I see a Child Psychiatrist and make sure there were no emotional issues that might be causing my wetting problem as well. In the end, this led to a better understanding of my problem and my parents became much more supportive and less punitive when it came to my accidents. They also went to bat for me at school if I had an accident and the school was the cause of the accident, as I already mentioned. They were great parents who at first didn’t understand the problem but once they did, they proved how good they were still. I really missed them now that they were both dead. I was the only child and other than some real distant relatives that I really didn’t know, I had no one other than my wife; who no longer wants to have anything to do with me. Father Caleb, who seemed to accept my answer to why I broke into the church, interrupted my thoughts with his next question. “Ben, tell me… Do you have any family?” I didn’t know how, but somehow it was as if he was reading my thoughts. “No, they are both dead.” I confirmed. “I am all alone.” To be honest, I was playing a little to the Father’s sympathy in order to help me get out of trouble. But I also was finding that I really liked this Man of God. “I see.” He then stood up and looked at the Lieutenant who had been scowling all through the conversation that the Priest and I were having. “Lieutenant Grant, the church will not be pressing charges against this boy.” And as he stated this, the scowl on the Lieutenant’s face became even angrier looking. “Seeing that the boy has no family or place to go, I would like to take the boy with me. The church has associations with a boy’s group home that he can stay at until we can get him a more permanent placement.” “I am sorry Father, but that is not possible.” The Lieutenant stated still scowling. “Personally I think you are making a big mistake dropping the charges. How else is the boy going to learn that he isn’t supposed to break the law?” “Lieutenant, I am a man of God and I can tell when I see a good boy. God is telling me that there is more to this than what we can see and that I need to help him. So I will say again; the Church will not be pressing any charges and I ask that you release the boy into my care.” Father Caleb interrupted. “I am sorry Father but if you can give me a chance to finish, I will explain why I can’t release him yet.” The Lieutenant stated sharply. He then went on. “The boy may be a runaway or he may be a juvenile delinquent. Either way, we cannot release him until we check him out fully.” He said this with a smug look. “Surely Lieutenant, you can check him out while he is staying at the group home. You know where you can find him if it turns out that you do find something. Personally, I don’t think you will find anything and I would hate to see the poor boy locked up somewhere several days while you do your checks.” The Lieutenant wasn’t about ready to give up just yet. “Father, you know that we have to contact Child Services in situations like these.” “Lieutenant, you know very well that our group home works closely with Child Services and that we can do all the paper work there. Look at it this way; I can save you all that paperwork that I know you hate doing.” I could see that the Father was getting his point across as the Lieutenant stood there and thought about all that paperwork. Finally, the Lieutenant relented. I could see in his eyes that he was won over by the Priest’s argument. “Alright, but just know that I am going to still check the kid out through the system.” He then looked over at me and I swear he had scowl back. “Before you leave, I will need your finger prints.” He said flatly. The Lieutenant then came over to me and was about to unlock the ankle cuffs. It was then when he noticed my wet pants. “Boy! Why didn’t you tell me you had to pee?!” He asked loudly and sounded as if he was getting angry again. I blushed deep red as the officer blurted this out. I felt like both Father Caleb and Lieutenant Grant were staring at me as if I were some sort of stupid little kid. I would later find out that Father Caleb was very concerned for me and very upset with the Lieutenant for his loud announcement made to just embarrass me. But for now I tried my best to explain as my face burned. “I tried to get someone’s attention but no one came and I couldn’t hold it any longer.” I mumbled as the Lieutenant un-cuffed me. The Lieutenant was about to say something but was stopped by Father Caleb. “Don’t you worry Ben, I am sure we can find you some clean clothes for you to change into once we get to the group home.” At this, the Lieutenant had me follow him out of the room and down the hall into another room. Now when I heard that the Lieutenant wanted my fingerprints my first thought was, I was finally going to be able to prove who I was. I also expected to be printed like I was when I was a kid. Back then, my parents took me down to the police station to get me fingerprinted so the police would have my fingerprints in case anything ever happened to me. You know, it was part of the McGruff the Crime Dog ‘Stranger Danger Program’. Anyway, back then they stuck each of your fingers one by one on an ink pad then rolled them on a sheet of paper. Boy was I surprised to find that technology has come a long way and now we no longer need that ink pad. The good thing about that is no more ink mess on your fingers that take days to wear off. Instead I was told to sit down next to the Lieutenant who sat at a computer. He then instructed me how to roll each of my fingers over the scanner that sat in front of me. It seemed to take several times for each finger before he was completely satisfied and moved on. As we were doing this, I found myself wondering how long it would take for the computer to find my fingerprints from when I was a child. As I stated before, I had never been in trouble before so I didn’t have any other fingerprints on file. Also, I wasn’t sure if my fingerprints were even in the computer database or not. Anyway, as soon as he had my prints scanned, he led me back to the lobby where Father Caleb was waiting for me. The Father then took hold of my shoulder and directed me towards the door which the Lieutenant opened for us. Before we went through though, the Father stopped briefly at the doorway and turned towards the Lieutenant. “I hope I will see you at Mass Charles.” With that we left the police station and walked out to his car. When he told me to get inside, I looked at him worriedly. I guess he had forgotten the wet condition my pants were in. To remind him, I pointed to my pants in hopes that he would understand without me having to explain any further. “Ah… That is right!” He then scrounged around in his truck and a moment later emerged with a plastic grocery bag in his hand. “Okay, put this on the seat and sit on it.” I did as I was told and sat down on the bag. As we drove away, I wondered where we were going. This day so far had not gone good for me and I was worried that it was going to continue to be bad. I found myself thinking about what Mike had said about the wish running its course. How was I supposed to know if I was working in the right direction for it to do so? Then again, maybe it didn’t matter. “Alright we’re here.” Father Caleb announced, bringing me out of my thoughts. I looked out the window as he turned off the ignition and began to get out of the car. When he saw that I wasn’t getting out he looked in at me. Come on Ben we need to get you inside and registered, so that you don’t miss lunch. “I know, but what about my pants!” I reminded him quickly. “Don’t worry Ben; I am sure Mrs. Betty can find something for you to wear.” I didn’t know who Mrs. Betty was but I was about to find out. Chapter 8 As we entered the home, I hid behind Father Caleb. I of course wasn’t shy or anything like that. It was just the fact that there were several other boys in the front room of the home as we walked in and I didn’t want them to see that I had wet my pants. The only problem with that was, I was a new face and soon I had a group of boys following me and Father Caleb. I didn’t know it then but I would learn that there were a total of 11 boys in the group home and all of them seemed to be following me. The boys looked to be between the ages of 10 to 14. In order to try and keep them from seeing the wet patch on the front of my pants, I inched up closer to Father Caleb, to the point where I was almost riding his leg. You know, being 39 years old, you would think I would have remembered that I had been sitting down when I had wet my pants and therefore they would have a big wet spot on the butt of them. For some reason though, I completely went stupid. I guess you could say I was acting like the age I looked. Anyway, I was so concerned about the front of my pants that I forgot the back them. Of course one of the older boys picked up on this right away! “Hey look guys! He wet his pants like a wittle baby!” The boy shouted in baby talk loud enough for everyone to hear. “Ooooooh! Look at the wittle baby!” He laughed loudly with his friends. I of course felt like bursting into tears, which was a strange feeling in of its own since it is one a little kid would normally have and not an adult like myself. “Damn Ben! You look like a little kid and at this moment there is nothing you can do about that! But I absolutely draw the line when it comes to acting like a little kid!” I silently scolded myself. “Peter! You know better than to make fun of somebody!” Father Caleb scolded the older boy sternly, the one that just called me a baby. “Now apologize to Ben here for what you said!” I watched the boy as he respectfully looked at Father Caleb. “Sorry Father.” The boy named Peter apologized to the Priest. He then looked over at me and even though he smiled, looked, and kind of sounded sincere; I wasn’t born yesterday! As Peter said “I am sorry for making fun of your disability.” I could hear the disdain hidden in his voice and I knew right then that Peter was not going to be one that I could count as a friend while here. It didn’t help that as soon as Father Caleb turned his back that the older boy Peter motioned with his closed fist and thumb across his neck, to show he meant to cut my neck off as soon as he had a chance. Before I could retaliate or do anything, an unseen voice rang out. “Boys! Isn’t it about lunch time?” The voice was that of a woman and it sounded like it came from somewhere up ahead. Then as if to prove she existed, the woman stepped into the hallway from an office just up ahead of us and to the right. The boys didn’t move right away and the woman gave them a severe look. “Boys! Go to the dining room now!” “Yes Mrs. Betty.” They all said in chorus. The boys then took off down the hall and out of sight. With the way she looked at the boys and the command she had over them, I felt that I too would have followed the boys if it hadn’t been for my wet pants. Not only that but I was after all pretty hungry. For now though, I chose to stick close to Father Caleb and hope that maybe he might find out that this place is full and after getting me a change of clothes taking me to a better place. I know, as an adult I should know better but one could wish, could they? “Hello Father, so you are bringing us a new boy?” Mrs. Betty asked as she waved us into the small and crowded office. “Yes Mrs. Betty. His name is Ben and he doesn’t have a family.” Mrs. Betty looked at me sweetly. “I am so sorry little one.” She said apologetically like it was all her fault I was parentless. “I am not a little kid!” I announced defiantly. Of course, it didn’t help that I looked everything like a little kid, including my peed pants! Mrs. Betty of course just took it in as me just being a kid. She sat down behind a small desk piled high with thick manila folders. I figured the manila folders represented the children that came to stay here in this group home. There was also a computer which she began typing on and I figured she was probably starting a file for me. “So Ben dear, how old are you?” She asked. “39” I replied a little aggravated. I was starting to get tired of being referred to as a kid, so my aggravation was winning over my common sense. Meaning the common sense that no one is going to believe me when I tell them that I am actually an adult. “9” Mrs. Betty stated as she typed the answer into her computer form. I am not sure what I hated more, the fact that she misunderstood me or the fact that she could actually believe that I could actually be 9 years old! “I didn’t say 9! I said 3-9!” I repeated. This made Mrs. Betty stop and look me over. “Now Ben, this is a time to be serious. Please tell me how old you really are?” I really considered telling her the truth, that I was 39 last night and that I woke up like this. But so far this hasn’t worked out so well for me, well other than Father Caleb, he seemed to be about the only one who kind of seemed to believe me. Then again he could have just been humoring me. It wasn’t like he was coming to my aid just now so I guess he didn’t really believe me after all. For now, I did not want to make matters worse for me. Mike had stated that all I had to do was let the wish run its course and everything would go back to normal. From what I could gather, if I kept fighting this situation, then it would never run its course! So, I decided to cooperate and play the game and pretend to be the kid everyone thought I was. Since I wasn’t sure exactly what age I was at the moment, I lied. “I am 12.” I said off the top of my head. She looked at me as if she didn’t believe me but after a moment she typed something into her computer. “And your family is all dead? Is that correct?” I just nodded my head as she looked at me for my answer. Again she typed on her computer. And this was how it went for the next 10 or so minutes. She would ask me questions and I would either answer her truthfully or come up with a believable lie. “Well Father, I will take it from here. Will you be joining us for lunch?” You know, before Mrs. Betty said this, I had completely forgotten that Father Caleb was there. At least over the last 10 minutes or so I had. “I wish I could but I need to supervise a window replacement.” I of course knew what he was talking about and was glad when he didn’t go into it further. “Alright Father, I suppose we will see you tomorrow?” “Of course.” He then looked at me. “Son, I am not sure what it is exactly, but I have a feeling that God has something special planned for you.” He then ruffled my hair a little. “You be good and I will see you tomorrow.” He then looked at Mrs. Betty. “I am going to see personally that he gets placed in a permanent home.” He informed her before saying goodbye and leaving. “Okay Ben, let’s go and see if we can find you some things to where while here with us. That way you can change into some clean clothes and put on some real shoes.” As Mrs. Betty said this last part she eyed my cloth bound feet which made me feel a little subconscious. “Okay Ben, just follow me. The clothing room is just down the hall to the left. I am sure we can find plenty of things for you to wear in your size.” Sure enough, there was a large room filled with boys clothing. Mrs. Betty found me 5 shirts and 2 pairs of blue jeans, 1 pair of good pants and 1 good shirt for church, and a pair of sweats. She also found 2 pairs of PJ's that fit me as well. At first I was afraid that she was going to make me wear someone else underwear and socks but it turned out that they got donations to buy new underwear and socks for us boys. And so she gave me a new package of underwear and socks. I just hope I can keep those underwear dry! The last thing she helped me pick out was a coat and a pair of shoes that fit. This now completed my new wardrobe. She put all of this into a couple of grocery bags and had me follow her upstairs to a small room with a bunk bed in it. “AJ is your bunkmate and nice boy. You guys are lucky because you get the small room. So you only have to share with each other.” I wasn’t really sure what was good about it. As she said, the room was dinky. It also had a very familiar odor that, I knew all too well. It wasn’t hard to figure out the reason why Mrs. Betty stuck me in this room and maybe she thought she was doing me a favor and maybe she was. Still, I am sure the others weren’t dumb. You couldn’t pass this room in the hallway without smelling the pee smell that emanated from this room. For now though, I chose to do my best to ignore it. “Okay Ben. I am going to put your stuff here in this drawer…” at this Mrs. Betty started opening drawers on one of the small dressers in the room and putting away my new clothes. “…and while I am doing this, you can take a shower across the hall and get cleaned up. If you look here…” at this she pointed to the bar next to my dresser that had a towel rack with a towel and a wash cloth on it. “…This is where you will keep your wash cloth and towel until laundry day. Okay, now here you go.” Mrs. Betty handed me a change of my new clothes and I grabbed my towel and wash cloth and started towards the door but was stopped before I left the room. “I am sorry Ben, Lunch will be over by the time you get done but I will go ahead and put something aside for you when you are ready to eat.” And with that, I headed for the shower and the beginning of my new existence here at this place. Chapter 9 I am not sure how long I stood there and allowed the warm water to pour over my childish body; all I could say for sure is that it felt great! My body and muscles had begun to stiffen and whether it was due to being out in the cold earlier or if it was something to do with the process of being turned into a little snot nose brat, I wasn’t sure! Whatever it was, the hot water from the shower was helping them feel better. In fact, if it hadn’t been for Mrs. Betty checking up on me, I may have stood there underneath the shower head until the hot water was completely gone. “Are you about done in there Ben?!” her voice was loud enough to be heard from the hallway and over the sound of the shower. Afraid that she might come in and see me naked, I quickly replied with a lie. “I am almost done Mrs. Betty!” I yelled out loud enough for her to hear. I then started to fervently scrub myself clean as fast as I could. I did this in order to finish cleaning myself before Mrs. Betty became curious and decided to come in and look for herself. I think I must have beaten a record as I was washed and rinsed off completely and was in the process of drying myself off by the time that Mrs. Betty came back. I can’t be sure as I didn’t have a watch, but I don’t think even 5 minutes had gone by yet. As I heard her approach I mentally kicked myself for not remembering to shut the bathroom door once I got out of the shower. I was so sure Mrs. Betty was going to just walk right in on me and when it didn’t happen, I was pretty surprised. I guess she must have heard me drying off as she stopped in the hallway. “Are you about done Ben?” Came Mrs. Betty’s voice from around the corner. I could see now that she was trying to give me my privacy. “Almost, I just need to get dressed.” And even though I could see that it appeared she was trying to give me my privacy, I still had an irrational fear that at any moment she was going to try coming into the bathroom at any second and see me naked. “Okay child, hurry up and finish. Once your dressed, meet me out in the hall.” I then heard her walk down the hall a ways as if she was checking in on something else. I then heard her talking to someone. I couldn’t make out what she was saying and I really didn’t care either. Deciding not to take any more chances, I walked over and shut the bathroom door. With my privacy once more, I finished drying off before quickly putting on my underwear and pants before Mrs. Betty had a chance to change her mind and come back. The turtle neck shirt was actually not too bad looking and almost looked new and as I pulled it on, I checked myself out in the mirror. As I stood there, I found myself also thinking about what Mrs. Betty had asked about. For the life of me I just couldn’t figure it out no matter how long I looked at myself. I just couldn’t figure out exactly how old I was. How far back in age did Mike send me? Since he didn’t send me in time as well, there isn’t the date element to use to figure out my age. So how am I supposed to figure out my age? Well I guess if I see him again I will have to ask him I suppose. Finally I stepped away from the mirror and opened the bathroom door and entered the hallway where Mrs. Betty was waiting for me. “Follow me Ben. This is the way to the dining room. Most meals are served there and unless otherwise told, you will report there for your meals.” Mrs. Betty explained as she showed the way downstairs to the dining room. We passed a few other rooms, where some of the boys were doing other things in. Finally we entered the dining room where I found a plate with a sandwich and chips and a small bowl of soup. Mrs. Betty smiled as she watched me sit down in front of the food set out for me and as I started to eat, she gave me one last instruction before she left for her office. “Ben, once you are done eating, please come to my office and I will explain how we do things here.” And with that said, Mrs. Betty left the room the way we entered. I ate every bite of that lunch that Mrs. Betty put out for me. And even though I could have eaten more, at least I wasn’t starving anymore. With my lunch finished, I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do with the dishes. After a moment’s thought, I figured I better take them to the kitchen. Of course I wasn’t sure exactly where the kitchen was but there were only three doors into the dining room. One was the one I came in from. There was one directly across from that one and then on the same side of the wall but on the other end of the room there was the third door. I was pretty sure that this was most likely the door to the kitchen. Sure enough, as I entered through the door I walked into a large kitchen which was in the process of being cleaned by 2 of the boys. So far the boys hadn’t noticed me or either that, they didn’t care. I decided not to risk it anyway and set my dishes down on a nearby counter and backed out of the Kitchen as quietly as I could. “Boy that was close.” I breathed as soon as I was once again in the dining room. “I guess I better go see if I can find Mrs. Betty’s office now.” I thought to myself. I was pretty sure I could find it as we had now passed it more than twice. I knew all I had to do was pretty much follow the hallway to the front and that it would lead me to where the office was. Or I should say the general area of the office. Sure enough, I had no trouble whatsoever locating the office and found Mrs. Betty behind her desk. Currently though, she was busy with a phone call. So I sat in the chair in front of the desk and patiently waited for her. I actually think she was surprised by how patient I was. I mean she was really complimenting me about it once she was done with her call. I keep forgetting that most kids are not patient or kind or understanding or any of that other mature stuff. “So Ben, what can I do for you?” She asked me with a smile on her face. “Well… I was wondering, what am I supposed to do while I am here? Besides you’re the one that told me to come here.” I reminded her. “Oh that is right. I am sorry Ben; my mind has been in a million places today. Let’s see, where to begin? Well Ben, we assign chores at the beginning of each week, which is Sunday. Since it is Thursday you don’t have to worry about chores for a few days unless you want to help out. You will have to go to School with all the other boys but since the school is out this week you won’t have to go till next week.” “Do the Nuns teach the classes?” “Nun’s… I am sorry… What do you mean Ben?” “Nun’s, I figured because that Father Caleb had something to do with this place that it was Catholic related.” As I said this and saw the look on Mrs. Betty’s face I realized that I misunderstood something. “Yes Father Caleb is very involved with our Boys Home, but we are not related with the Catholic Church. We do go to Mass and we do go to other church functions but that is the only involvements other than the donations that the church gives us. All the boys here attend public schools.” The idea of going back to school wasn’t very pleasant to me. Shoot the first time through was pretty crappy. Then again at least I wouldn’t have to deal with abusive Nuns and pedophilic priest. I know it is stereo typing but hell, with the way things have been going for the last day; it seems that the worse scenario is the most likely thing to happen to me. Somehow I just need to get through this wish and get back to the real me and then fix my life! “You know we still have to figure out what grade you are in so we can get you in the right classes.” Mrs. Betty interrupted my thoughts and the way she said this it was as if she was saying you better fess up to you age and everything else ‘OR ELSE’! “Meal times are 7am for Breakfast. When not at school, you eat lunch at Noon. Dinner is at 6pm sharp unless otherwise noted. You will be awakened before breakfast with enough time so that you can shower and get ready for the day.” At this point Mrs. Betty stopped talking and there was an awkward silence in the room for several minutes. I looked up at Mrs. Betty who seemed to be thinking about something. I don’t know why maybe it was a warning of some kind, you know, the warning that someone about to broach something that is uncomfortable to talk about. And of course for me there is one major thing besides the ‘being turned into a kid thing’ and something told me that wasn’t it, the kid thing wasn’t it that is. No, it had to be the topic of bed wetting. Finally Mrs. Betty asked the dreaded question. “Ben, I was wondering, do you still wet the bed?” For a moment I considered saying “NO! I don’t wet the bed!” But after thinking about it I figured it would be pretty pointless I was pretty sure after wetting twice while sleeping that I would most likely continue wetting and all I would be then is be a liar. I was pretty sure that when Mike turned me back to my kid self he also gave me my kid health problems as well like my bladder problem. So I decided to be honest with Mrs. Betty. “Yes Mrs. Betty, I still wet the bed every night.” I then took a very deep breath and gave her the further truth as I was sure I was still below the age where I stopped having daytime accidents. “I also as you already seen, have daytime accidents still.” I almost whispered that last part out of embarrassment. “Is it just bladder or bowel too? Don’t be afraid if it is both, as we have had boys from time to time that have had this problem as well.” As I heard Mrs. Betty say this, I couldn’t help thinking to myself “They must get a lot of freaks.” Out loud though, I just said, “No, just a bladder problem.” “Okay then. If you wet your bed, you will be responsible for taking care of your wet bed every morning. This means you will strip the wet bedding and bring it along with your pajamas to the laundry, which I will show where it is as soon as we are done talking. You will then go to the bathroom where in the cupboard you will find disinfectant and you will clean the rubber sheet. Ben, please know that this is not meant as a punishment but is just meant to give you an act of responsibility. Do you understand?” I nodded my head. As a child who grew up as a bed wetter, I understood this better than most probably did. “I understand Mrs. Betty.” “Okay let’s see is there anything that I am forgetting. Hmmmm… Well… there is study time for homework and bible. And then finally there is structured free time. Also if you have behaved, there are special events that we do for those boys who have been good. You have to of course earn points towards those events to be able to participate in them. For those who are bad and break the rules, oh that reminds me…” Mrs. Betty opened up a bottom drawer of her desk and pulled out a little booklet. “This here is a pamphlet that has all the rules in it. It also has a list of privileges you can earn as well with good behavior. It also explains how the Demerit system works around here. Bad behavior will earn boys demerits. In order to get rid of demerits, you have to work them off. Boys with demerits will not be allowed to participate in extracurricular activities. Please note that if you become too problematic that we will have no choice but to remove you from our program. You would then be sent to a state run facility that handles problematic kids. So, I would suggest following the rules and being good.” Mrs. Betty winked at me. “Now, unless you are going to tell me how old you really are, how about we go and show you the laundry.” Of course me telling her my age wasn’t going to happen to her satisfaction, so we headed back towards the dining room and went through it and through the other door I saw and all the way the back of the house to a large room that smelled of laundry soap. Inside was 3 large industrial washer and dryers. I quickly noticed 2 boys and a large black man busily working back there and it didn’t take me long to figure out that one of the boys was my tormentor from earlier. “Ben, I would like you to meet Kip. He is one of our house dads. Kip, this new boy is Ben.” “Well how do you do Benji?” Kip asked me holding his large hand out to me. This guy would have still towered over me if I had been my adult self. “I bet the kids don’t mess with you.” I said trying to joke but sounding nervous. “Oh you got me all wrong Benji. I am just a pussy cat!” Now I subconsciously missed the first time he called me Benji but I definitely heard it this time. “I am sorry but my name isn’t Benji, it is Ben.” I informed Kip. “Sorry little man, didn’t to upset you.” Kip apologized and ruffled my hair. As Kip apologized I heard Peter and the other Boy snickering to themselves and I was sure I was the one they were laughing about. Mrs. Betty and Kip also heard the boys snickering as well. “Why don’t you scallywags get back to work before I give you more demerits to work off!” Kip boomed at them and they both jumped back to work. He then turned and looked at me and winked. “See, just cuddly as a pussy cat but I also have the claws.” And he gave me another wink before he too went back to work. Mrs. Betty chuckled a little before taking me over to where I was to take my wet stuff in the mornings if I woke up wet. “Okay, here is where you will put your wet stuff in the morning.” She then pointed to a table over by the wall with some sheets on it already. “You will find your clean stuff folded on the table over there later in the day. It will be your responsibility to pick it up and put it back on your bed.” We then left the laundry of course Peter eyeballed me pretty good as we left. I really didn’t feel too safe there. I didn’t remember seeing a lock on our bedroom door and for all I knew Peter could have been my roommate, of course I doubted that due to my roommate being a bed wetter. With Peter being so much bigger than me and the fact that I was never really a fighter, I knew I was dead meat if Peter decided to come after me. I decided my only course of action was to let Mrs. Betty know of my fear. “Mrs. Betty, I was wondering if we can talk in private for a few minutes.” I asked her as we walked back towards the front of the house. “Okay, then after that I am going to introduce you to your new roommate so that you can get to know each other.” We then walked quietly back to her office where she shut and locked her door. She then took her seat behind her desk and waited for me to sit before asking me what it was that I needed to talk to her about. “I don’t want to be a snitch or anything but I am really afraid that Peter might try and beat me up. He has given me every indication that he wants to beat me up or at least hurt me in some way. He has already made fun of me and the way he stared at me in the laundry I am sure he has something planned against me and I am afraid of being hurt.” “I see. While we don’t tolerate any misbehavior, which includes picking on any of the other boys; we can’t do anything to Peter until he actually breaks a rule.” “But if that is the case, then I will be hurt already!” I stated in a panic rush. “I understand what you are saying but just because you think something is going to happen doesn’t make it so. I have to hope that Peter will do the right thing and follow the rules. Peter knows that he is on thin ice as is. I really don’t think he will beat you up. I will tell Kip and the rest of the house parents to keep an eye out for you. How does that sound?” “What about at night? There is no lock on our room and he could just come in.” I pleaded with her. “Kevin is on tonight. He is a good guy and I will make sure he keeps an eye out for you and your room. Now I would like to take you to meet your new roommate as I need to get back here as I have 5 more boys coming in today. Though tomorrow we are going to sit down and discuss what grade you’re in at school so we can get you enrolled next week.” It turned out that my new roommate was actually in our room studying. It looked like he had a US Geography book opened up on one of the 2 desks in the room. “AJ, this is Ben, he is a new boy that just arrived today and will be your new roommate.” And as Mrs. Betty introduced us, AJ’s eyes grew big in alarm. Of course I knew what his problem was. “Don’t worry I have the same problem.” Was the only thing I said and it did the trick. He calmed down and became relaxed. I don’t understand how he thought he was hiding it before anyways, as I smelled the pee the minute I entered the room. “Well I am going to let you guys get to know each other.” And with that Mrs. Betty left. So until Dinner time, I got to know about AJ and I found out some pretty interesting things about him. I found out that both of his parents were alive but his dad was in prison for killing someone and his mom was considered unfit. He was the youngest of 4 kids, 3 boys 1 sister. He hadn’t seen any of his siblings in a couple years and according to him, he doesn’t really care if ever does see them again. Because both of his parents are considered unfit, the state had terminated their parental rights and AJ is adoptable. The problem is that because of his age and the fact that he has a few problems mainly being a bed wetter, most people tend to not want him. So he has basically remained in the system being bumped from 1 foster home to another until he finally made it here and so he likes it here the best. He just recently turned 11 years old and started Junior High School. He had now been at this home for boys for around 7 months but he been in the foster care system since he was 8. The most mysterious of all, his bedwetting problem started after he was put into foster care. I really think there is something he isn’t telling me but oh well. I was surprised I got that much out of him. Of course I was so enrapt in his story I did exactly what I didn’t want to do. I at some point peed my pants. In fact it was AJ who noticed it. “Uh… Ben… You ah… Man you peed your pants.” The last part he whispered in my ear as if he were afraid someone was listening at our door. I jumped up. “Damn!” I looked down at myself in disgust. “I got to start remembering to go to the bathroom regularly!” “It is almost dinner time and everyone will be going down to eat. So just wait until they do then use the bathroom to clean-up. Then just come down a little late. Then later you can tell Kip what happened and he will understand.” AJ explained. And this was exactly what I did. I waited until everyone went downstairs and then headed into the bathroom and quickly cleaned up and changed into another pair of jeans. I looked into the mirror to comb my hair so that I would look halfway decent and who do I see looking back at me? If you said Mike, then you were right!

(Sorry if this is a bit gross to some lol). But how do you feel about messing? Is it enjoyable? I personally like the feeling of messing more than wetting, it's just a more comfy feel to me. I love the squishy, warm, and messy feel it has. It literally feels like having a banana in the back of your diaper xD. The only problem is the clean up, it can be frustrating sometimes.

In 2016 I kept a plog (pee log) at omorashi.org of almost all of my 58 experiences of waking up wetting or already wet: https://omorashi.org/topic/30577-waking-up-wet-iii/. I was surprised at how varied the experiences were. Sometimes I would wake up just as I began to wet. I might clench my urinary sphincter and stop the flow, or I might manage to stay relaxed until I finished emptying my bladder. I might be diapered or I might wet the bed. I might realize immediately that I was wetting involuntarily, or I might be confused about what was happening and whether I had begun to wet deliberately. I might be wetting in a dream and continue in a dreamlike state after I began to wake up wetting. Several people at OmoOrg told me they enjoyed reading my plog, and a friend here has encouraged me to resume plogging here. Okay, I'll do it. I wear and wet a diaper and booster pad every night, partly for fun and partly because of how often I began to wet in my sleep last year. I will only report involuntary wetting, not the times I wake up dry and needing to pee and consciously decide to wet. As a prequel I want to report that after October 29, the last time I reported wetting at OmoOrg, I was dry at night for seven weeks, which astounded me. After wetting six straight nights earlier in the month, I was expecting to wet almost every night. The next time I wet was December 17. I was visiting relatives for two weeks and had only six pull-ups with me. I planned to keep my padding dry and use the toilet, which for the most part I did. Once again I was confused about whether I had wet involuntarily or deliberately. I suddenly realized I was wetting, so I eventually decided I must have begun wetting involuntarily. In the morning I continued to wet my diaper, since I was going to have to throw it away anyway. The only time I wet after that in 2016 was December 20. I went to bed very tired from a bad respiratory infection. In the morning I vaguely remembered wetting the pull-up that I was hoping to keep dry in my relative's bed. I must have been too sleepy to resist the urge to urinate and just wet my diaper. When I later woke up needing to pee, I knew my pull-up was wet, so I relaxed and wet it again. With wetting so rare, I really enjoyed my two chances to wet on that trip. Now two days into 2017, I've worn and wet a medium NorthShore Supreme taped brief and large booster pad both nights. All my wetting has been voluntary, as far as I know. I've not woken up confused about that. Let's see how long I can keep all my wetting deliberate.

This will contain graphic words and have a sexual content between a man and a woman! Rebbecca worked at an old law firm, one that had been started about 90 years ago! Old Mr. Snedly's father had started it! Passed it on to his son old Mr. Snedly, who brought his son Middle Mr. Snedly on as a partner, who brought his son Young Mr. Snedly in as a partner! Young was misleading he was almost 60. She had worked for him for about 10 years! They had hired her right out of University, and she had worked for them since! She was considered beautiful, she had to beat Old Mr. Snedly off with a stick, he might be old as dirt, but he certainly was a dirty old man! It kept her on her toes, he followed her to the lady's restroom one day, seveal years ago! That was her hiding place up until then! She was blonde, which some people thought meant stupid! They had bought into the dumb blonde jokes! She liked it when the men underestimated her she was no blonde joke, you did that and she would hand you your ass! She still went to the gym about two or three times a week where she did Zumba and did cardiovascular exercises. Plus she lifted weights! Her body was toned, as she got older, it was getting harder to stay that way! Rebbecca was also married to her husband of about 8 years Stuart or Stu as everyone called him! He was a a cop, well he was in charge of Dispatch for the local Police Department. He had cought a few bullits and it left him with some medical issues one was his lung was damaged running made him pass out, the one good lung he had left couldn't keep up with the oxygen needs of his body, so he would pass out! He still lifted lots of weights and worked out with machines! Just nothing that involved running or lots of cardiovascular exercises! Rebbecca Called Stu and told him that it looks like another late night for her tonight! Should I save you dinner Becca? That's what he called her. Better not it looks like until the wee hours of the morning! We got that lawsuit that were fighting for our client! Looks like a late night strategy meeting, they will probably bring us in food! Sorry I can't spend this beautiful Friday night with you dear, Rebbecca said! Well maybe I'll see you late, late tonight Stu said, you know I love you Mrs Phelps! Yes I am aware Mr. Phelps! See you when I get home then, maybe! It was another boring strategy meeting, Rebecca was fried, she had started work at 7 am and here it was almost midnight in about 19 minutes! Old Mr. Snedly was dozing off she didn't mind at least when he was asleep he wasn't chasing her! Since the Senior partner was falling asleep they decided that the meeting needed to end! It would be midnight in 12 minutes. She got out of there as fast as she possibly could, into her car, onto the freeway, and home, her watch read 12:07 am as se walked through the door. She started dropping clothes her jacket then her blouse her bra came next! Dammit if it didn't feel great to unleash her girls! Her tweed skirt was unziped, it was the companion to her jacket, dropped about 1/2 the way up the stairs! Her panty hose was next. As she she arrived at the door clad only in her panties she took them off so she was entirely naked as she entered her bed room! Stu was aseep she was naked, she had a thought of her and Stu getting it on, or one of Stu's favorite a lick in the whiskers! She pulled the blankets down on her side of the bed and there they were! Her two thick nighttime diapers and her plastic panties! And her pajamas! Stu was so conciderate! At 32 years old Rebbecca still wet her bed, like she had when she was 5,15 or 25, she had never stopped! She checked Stu, sure enough he had his protection on for the night! When he was shot a bullit hit the nerve that controls Stu's bladder in the day time he's not got a probem! At night he culdnt stay dry if his life depended on it, just like her! They had met when Stu was suing the city! They weren't going to dismiss him due to being left a bed wetter! But was suing claiming that there were other jobs that he could do, like dispatch lead! The job had been given to a female but since he met the criteria, and was a male they had overlooked him! He was claiming sexual harrasment! She ended up being his attorney! They won the case he was able to do the dispatch coordinator job! During the trial his medical issues were brought up including his bed wetting!

These are two of the caption-style stories we've been working on for our fans over on our Patreon & our Tumblr! They're one-off scene stories with images picked out and contributed to us from our fans on those sites, and as well as contributing pictures, we offer caption commissions as well as further Patreon supporter exclusives! As always, the vast majority of our work is free, and we'll endeavor to post our free captions here as well as on our tumblr, and our patreon, as well. THANK YOU FOR YOUR SUPPORT! And please let us know if you like this kind of stuff.