LL Medico Diapers and More Bambino Diapers - ABDL Diaper Store

Search the Community

Showing results for tags 'love'.

More search options

  • Search By Tags

    Type tags separated by commas.
  • Search By Author

Content Type


  • Latest News and Updates
    • Latest News
  • Diaper Talk
    • Newbie Nursery
    • Scoop The Poop
    • Our Lifestyle Discussion
    • [DD] Surveys
    • Incontinence - Medical
    • Rainbow Diapers
    • Story and Art Forum
    • Roleplay
    • Product Reviews and Info
    • Diapers in the News
    • Links and Announcements
    • In and Out Board
  • Connect
    • The Rest of your Life!
    • Meeting Place
    • Game Time
  • Trading Post
    • The Diaper Store - Shopping
    • ABDL FreeCycle
    • Other Stuff For Sale/Trade
  • Support
    • DailyDiapers Tech Support
    • Questions And Answers
    • Friends and Family
    • Restlessfox's Depression Discussion
    • ABDL Memorial
  • Private Forums
    • About This Area / Request a Forum
    • Photos
    • University of PEEnix Online
  • Other Fetishes
    • General
    • Spanking
    • Bondage
    • Watersports
  • Clubby McClubFace's British Gossip
  • Big Kids Room's Topics
  • Infant School's Let's talk ...
  • Music Producers Club's Topics
  • Diaper Disciplined's Double Diapers and More...
  • Ab/dl LBGT diapers's Topics
  • For us who are turned on by diapers's Write something about yourself, so we can get to know each other!
  • spankings-4-all's Topics
  • dutchdiapers's Heya allemaal :) Stel je voor!
  • The hated ones's What's it like?
  • Big but getting Smaller!'s Topics
  • abdl west Yorkshire (uk)'s Topics
  • Puddle Skirts Club's Topics
  • BabyFurs & DiaperFurs's Roleplaying
  • BabyFurs & DiaperFurs's Games
  • BabyFurs & DiaperFurs's Topics
  • Minecraft Daycare's Topics
  • "Nerd" Is The Word's Topics

Product Groups

  • E-Books
  • Memberships
  • Diaper Pins
  • Videos
  • Trinkets
  • Clothing

Find results in...

Find results that contain...

Date Created

  • Start


Last Updated

  • Start


Filter by number of...


  • Start



Alt.com ID

DiaperMates ID

Website URL





Real Age

Age Play Age

Found 23 results

  1. Drownedinp

    My Christmas Story!

    It was 3 days before Christmas. I was making Chocolate Chip Cookies. I was using my KitchenAide mixer I have had for years I had all the dry ingredients mixed I just was adding the eggs, vanilla, butter and shortening. After this I just had to add the chips and bake. I was the manager of the Hospital Supply Store we sold everything from Air, well oxygen to X-ray machines and everything in between. I have been making these cookies every year for Christmas since I got here almost 10 years ago. It was my tradition, I didn't have a family, well none here in California anyway. I was a transplant to LA from Phoenix Arizona. I had brothers and sisters gack in Phoenix. I had never married, I guess in a way I was married to my work. Anyway as I was mixing the last few ingredients. My mixer started to protest it began making a noise like it was bogging down then it stopped turning I could hear the motor that was just buzzing it was no longer working. Before I could turn it off I could also smell the smell of electrical smoke. I turned it off cleaned the blades. I tried it with out anything in the bowl. It hummed and I could see a little smoke come out of the motor! It was toast! Shit! I thought. I'm almost done 5 more minutes and I could of been baking these cookies with the chips in them. I could mix them in and... no the mixture wasn't complete I would still see white from the flour, and sugar. I needed a new kitchen Aid mixer. I grabbed my keys and drove to the nearest appliance store. About 2 miles from my home. I was cursing that damned mixer under my breath the whole way there. I walked through the door, I was beginning to cool down some, even though I really didn't want to! "Mixers?" I asked the greeter. "Aisle 12 Marnie" the greeter said! It took a second to realize he had called me by my first name. I looked down I didn't have my name tag from my work on me. "How do you know me," I asked? "That's easy the guy said, I knew you in high school. Your Marinie Carlson, at least you were when I knew you at Arroyo High School in Phoenix." "That's right I did go there, and your?" "Sorry, I'm Daniel Green." Danny Green I thought, THE Danny Green. The guy who everybody used to say looked like Donny Osmond I though, I used to have such a crush on Danny Green. I was probably still blushing! He was a year ahead of me he was a Senior and I was a Junior. I knew he had been offered a schlorship to play baseball at USC. He was our second basemen. He was good he had made it into Sports Illustrated you know the segment that has armature players that are really good. He was leading the country in double plays plus batting like .450. I knew him! "Danny how are you doing?" I'm good and you Marnie, what brings you here today?" "My Mixer took a dump while making cookies." "Tell me it wasn't your grandmothers chocolate chip cookies! I used to really love those!" "Yes, yes it was!" "If you didn't know I used to buy those at the bake sales we used to have in high school, I loved them! I kinda had a crush on you because of them!" "Really, I asked I kinda had a crush on you, you were so dashing in those days out there on second base!" Dashing really do they even use that word anymore, could I get anymore lamer? "I bet your husband just loves them," Dan said! "I never married," I said. That just slipped out. "How about you how is Mrs. Green?" He had married I heard while he was at USC. "My wife was killed a few years back, nasty auto accident." "Sorry to hear that, I said." Is there a boyfriend or somebody else?" Danny asked. "No just me and my beagle Peanut." "If you aren't busy I would love for you to come for Christmas, sorry that came out weird. I mean since were old friends. Old high school friends and there isn't any others that I know of in the area. Your welcome to spend Christmas with us. The Greens there are me and my three kids!" "I would love to I said," that also slipped out! "Great when you get that mixer bring it to me, I can get it for you a lot cheaper. I am manager here!" Instead of being $209 dollars he got it for me for $179. I asked him if there was anything he wanted me to bring? "Just you and some of your chocolate chip cookies?" "That can be arranged," I smiled. He wrote his address on a business card and it wasn't to far from my place. I got home finished the cookies up for work the next day. I realized he hadnt told me what time to come on Christmas. I gave him a call. "Marnie good to hear from you. I know I realized after you left I didn't tell you what time to be there. My bad! Listen i was thinking, can you wrap presents?" "Yeah I'm pretty good why?" "Because I can't wrap worth anything and my oldest is 8, she will know that Santa didn't wrap the presents. If it wouldn't be too much trouble could you come on Christmas Eve?" "What I asked you want me to spend the night?" "That came out wrong, sorry but yes, you will be sleeping in the guest room. By yourself!" "Aw, shucks I teased I thought for a moment you was propositioning me!" "A. A , nothing like that I promise to be a good boy!" This was said very quickly. Even through the phone I could tell he was blushing. I guess I could spend the night and help you wrap presents." I thought to myself I just have to prepare a bit, pack a few extra things and my sexy underwear isn't one of them, too bad! "Thank you ever so much, and I promise you no hanky panky!" I spent the next few days thinking about what to pack and wash before I actually spent my Christmas Eve at my high school crushes place. I guess I seemed distant. June one of my sales people asked me what's up? I have to spend the Christmas Holliday at a man's house." "Oohh, said June do we know him?" "No "No, he was my high school crush." "Even better! Does he know about you and....?" "My bedwetting? No!" Everybody here knew about my problem, I was the go to person when somebody needed diapers, ether for themselves or loved ones, lots of kids wore them just like I used to when I was their age, I still needed them at night and I was 28 years old. I had planned on taking my most absorbent diapers with double inserts and plastic panties. With my flannel pajamas, you could hardly tell I was diapered. "He isn't going to find out about it either! I will be taking extra precautions. This a one time deal, you know I don't date because I don't want to have to tell a guy that at 28 years old I still wet my bed like I'm 3 years old!" "Well have fun anyway whether your diapered or not! Said June. You deserve to be happy just like the test of us!" I went home and packed my suitcase. Diapers, plastic panties, wipes to wipe the pee smell away on Christmas morning. Baby Powder at night to keep my skin from getting a rash. Dr. Budrouxs Butt Paste for where I was getting a rash.panties to go over the diapers and plastic panties. Extra in case I leaked. Clothes for Christmas morning. I was ready, I had also made my chocolate chip cookies for Dan!
  2. The Woes of Maddison Page Prologue - Monday, The Week Before Christmas Break - Mom was sitting on the couch in the living room spaced out. She’d had another feverish afternoon buzzing around cleaning up an already spotless house. She also cooked us a meal that was way too big for the two of us, again. I swear Mom had to have imagined dirt to clean and mouths to feed! Daddy had never pushed her to keep the house that clean or cook that much. He’d been just as happy with take out as the next guy. Mom did this. She did this to herself somehow. It was just after we lost Daddy that these tics started showing up. Whatever the reason, I’m pretty sure we could have eaten off the picture frames in the hallway, the house was that damn clean. Hell, I bet the FDA would have approved eating off our floors! Our house was that clean! You’d never believe the woman sitting on my couch worked full time, cooked for an army, and cleaned house like a full crew all before seven. She just looked too cute in her PJs. Mom was crashing hard after her long day. She was just sitting there looking adorable watching Adventure Time. It was my senior year of high school and we were in the off season of cross country. I was done. My high school athletic career was over. No more practices for me, so I was getting home around three of four in the evenings. It was a big improvement over six or so that I’d drag in after practice. I’d finished my homework as soon as I got home, and moved on to other tasks. I finally felt like I had time to properly prepare for school and my job with sports no longer a draw on my time. It was a treat not to be so rushed! I wasn’t working that night either, so I decided to be productive another way. No time like the present to get the adult stuff done! I had my laptop setup on the kitchen table working my way through this month’s bills. You have to be careful or it will really pile up on you. Besides, someone had to do it and Mom wasn’t ever going to be the best candidate. Mom and I were paid on different schedules. I was paid twice a month, once on the fifteenth and then again on the thirtieth. Mom was paid every two weeks. You have to keep up with that stuff! It makes it tricky to pay bills when your income isn’t as predictable as the due dates, but I kept on top of it. I’ve been paying our bills and managing our budget for the last three years. It was much easier to just break everything down to the first and the sixteenth right after I got paid. Then, I’d pay it all and didn’t have to worry until the next half of the month came around. This month’s stuff was stacked neatly in two piles representing two different excel worksheets in the master budget workbook that I kept. Three years in the Microsoft Office Certification electives at my high school were actually coming in handy! My spreadsheet was pretty elaborate. It’s a real shame I didn’t have a good backup plan going. “Honey, are you done with the paperwork yet?” Mom called from the living room. She called everything from my homework to reading the mail the ‘paperwork’. “Almost, I just balanced our checking accounts. I just need to deduct the bills and pay stuff online real fast.” I replied. “Will you bring me sumpin ta drink when you come this way?” Mom yelled. “You bet. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” I told her. Electronic Bill Pay is a Godsend! I didn’t even have to keep up with stamps anymore. I just created a new payee and boom, they got their money. It really streamlined how I managed our finances. I checked my notes and vowed again to read up on mom’s retirement plan. I just didn’t understand 401k’s enough for my own satisfaction. So, I typed a note on my digital calendar reminding me to look into it. I blew out a tired breath. I’d be leaving for college soon, and I really wanted to make sure mom would be taken care of. I might not be living with her, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t keep up with this stuff for her. The bills were the easy part, now at least. I could do it from a dorm room too. “Momma, looks like Wellington’s will be out to top off the gas early next week. We have that covered, but it will be a bit tight till the eighteenth when you get paid.” I shouted from the kitchen. I paused and asked, “Are you going to be home to take the invoice and pay them? It should be Monday or Tuesday.” “Baby, I’m still good in savings, right? If something comes up, you can just transfer some money over with your phone thingy, ya?” Mom yelled back. “Yup. I put it on your phone too. I added air filters to the Walmart list.” I told her. “I’ll make sure I’m available for the gas guy honey. I’ll just run home from work. They usually call before they show up. That should give me time to get home. “Come sit with me awhile before you go up to your bedroom baby.” Mom patted the couch next to her. Mom must have needed some cuddle time. She’s the short petite kind of woman, you know straight up tiny. I look just like an upsized version of her which is odd, her being older and all. Dad had a lot of height and width. He had been just a big ole teddy bear of a guy, but looked like he could have played football! Apparently, Mom’s look dominated my genes because I was petite too, but I got dad’s height. In fact, I’ve been taller than mom since I was twelve. I entered the living room and gave her the once over before I went to her. She had her dark hair up in a high off center ponytail that was draped over the back of the couch. Mom kept her hair longer than I liked mine, and being the size of a high school kid made her hair look even longer. She was wearing the bugs bunny footed sleeper that I’d bought her last Christmas causing me to smile at my cutie mom. “Here ya go Momma.” I told her giving her the hard plastic cup with a screw on lid and hard plastic straw, her living room cup. I had a sudden instinct to remind her to put it in the sink when she was done. I guess it was because of how she was dressed and the show she was watching, but I didn’t really need to. She’d probably clean it and put it back in the cabinet before she went to bed. God knows, it wouldn’t be dirty long! Her PJs didn’t have a hood with the ears or the poofy tail that the new ones did, but it did have the coloring and the rabbit feet. Mom had a new set of PJs wrapped up under the Christmas tree. I got her a Sylvester the cat set that came complete with tail, paw looking feet, and a hoodie topped with cat ears. She was going to love the two piece sleeper and I was really excited to see her open it! The PJ set wasn’t the most expensive gift I’d gotten her, but I was making sure she opened it first. She’d likely wear it the rest of the day. There was a good chance that would be her favorite gift. She was going to smile and squeal like a kid, which would make my heart swell. I nearly teared up thinking about her being so happy. We both worked hard to make sure we got those moments. Mom only dressed her age when she was at work. At home, all bets were off. She is still small enough to wear anything from tween to small adult things. It did, and still does, suit her sense of style. She keeps an immaculate house like a fifties house wife, but she’s just a kid at heart. Her bed had more stuffed animals than pillows on it! It wasn’t uncommon for mom to pass out on a teddy bear instead of a pillow. I had bought her a big fluffy stuffed rabbit the first Valentine’s Day after dad passed. I just wanted her to have something positive to hold onto that day. She’s been known to sit round the living room in her PJs holding it vegging out to whatever was on TV. That night she was snuggling one of the couch throw pillows sitting cross legged watching Adventure Time. Looking at her made me smile. I knew I wasn’t a real adult yet. I didn't’ feel like one either, but that wasn’t for lack of responsibility or trials. It was only a function of age and attitude. I envied mom sometimes. I wish I could relax as hardcore as she does. Work hard and play hard and all that. I sat with mom for a commercial-less DVR’d episode of Survivor. She never fought for the remote, but it was often on the satellite channel for Adult Swim whenever I took it over. She knew I wouldn’t sit there and watch those brainless cartoons with her, so she just handed over the remote when I sat down. She enjoys watching TV with me, but I’m pretty sure it has more to do with me than what we are watching. I’m positive she genuinely liked survivor though. When Jeff said “Next time on Survivor”, I headed upstairs to shower after kissing mom goodnight. Hurrah for skips! I always feel like a commercial assassin, my weapon of choice – the remote. I hate ads! I ran through the shower down stairs, packed my lunch for tomorrow, texted mom my work hours for the next couple of days, and headed up to my bedroom. It was as spotless as the rest of the house. Long ago, I had decided that the lack of privacy was worth mom keeping everything in order. I had nothing to hide from her anyway. I had a single drawer in my in-closet-dresser that is set aside as “private space”. She tells me she doesn’t go in that drawer, but I don’t keep much in there, just in case. Frankly, I just didn’t have anything I that would bother me if mom saw it. Between Cross Country and Track, homework, actual work, and the house finances, I just didn’t have time to clean. Forget about time to get into normal teenage trouble! I’m an old soul, or so I’ve been told. I would be graduating in a few months with four hundred other students, and I was currently ranked fourth in my class academically. I had become very Type-A. I didn’t have the best ACT score at thirty, but I was determined to get the most scholarship offers, so I applied for everything! I sat down at my desk and turned my attention to toward that goal. I started flipping through all the different college materials on my desk checking the due dates for entrance exams, ACT score submissions, finical aid info, and the like. Eventually, I sat back in my desk chair and puffed air through my bangs. I’d finally turned my hyper focused mind off about eleven pm, but it took a melatonin tablet to do it. I waited about ten minutes until I was good and under the influence. Then, I tried to work up the energy to get up and lay down on my bed, but the smell of my life going down in flames rolled into the room on a cloud of gray smoke from under my door. The Woes of Maddison Page Chapter 1 – My Hair Still Smells Like Smoke - Wednesday Morning - “Maddisonnnn.” Mandy Page whined through the bathroom door at her seventeen year old daughter. “We’ve got to go by Walmart for some panties, toothbrushes, and other stuff. Get off the pot and let’s go. Move it baby!” Mom whined at me. Her attempt at assertiveness failed miserably. She didn’t fool anyone. Even after everything we’d been through the last few days, her sad little attempt at parenting me made me smile. Tiger Mom she was not! “Momma.” I replied as respectfully as possible, which wasn’t as respectful as I’d normally have been. It was seriously hard not to laugh at her! “I don’t want to yell at you through the door, crack it alright?” I begged her tears forming in my eyes and a clearly quivering voice as my mood shifted dramatically. My back suddenly lanced pain through every nerve ending in my spine. My mood followed. “Listen baby, I know all of this is awful, but...” Mom said peeking into the bathroom inadvertently interrupting herself. Tears started streaming from my mother’s eyes when she saw me. It was an admittedly pitiful sight. “Oh My God, Baby my hair still smells like smoke! Oh Maddie, it’s all gone! Everything! All of Quentin’s pictures. Oh!” Mom dissolved into a pool of sorrow in the bathroom floor of our La Quinta Inn Suite. I was usually the strong one, but I was a straight up hot mess. I wanted to comfort her. She had mistaken my pain for sorrow, for trauma. I wanted to go to her, and hug her until all of our tears were spent. I couldn’t though. I was stuck on the damn toilet in desperate need of comforting myself. Mom’s breakdown took my painful tears down her emotional path with her. Then we were both bawling. Sometimes life finds fun new ways to kick you in the lady balls when you’re down. Not being able to help mom was a serious blow to my budding adult sized ego. I hurt everywhere and my lady balls had been kicked so much they were totally demolished! I needed to be the strong one like I’d always had been, but it just wasn’t happening that morning. I was only seventeen after all, but mom had been relying on me for a few years. Our dynamic had shifted after dad passed. I just sort of assumed his role at the house while mom healed. She’s just not built to be alone, or in charge for that matter. I thank God every day for the strength he gave me to support her back then, and I thank him for the purpose he granted me when I needed one. ‘Monkey Balls! I’ve even been keeping the checkbook and paying bills for almost three years now, I’m better than this! Get your shit together Girl!’ I gave myself an angry pep-talk. It’s not like mom wasn’t smart enough to pay our bills or balance the checkbook, but Daddy always handled those things for her. He worked and took care of the financial side of things. She had a debit card on the checking account and just brought Daddy the receipts. He kept her life simple because she likes it that way. He did it for her, so I had too. Dad had a budget and what not, so mom knew what was available for monthly toilet paper, groceries, and stuff, but she didn’t have any idea when we paid bills or how much we paid. She didn’t even know what bills had to be paid anymore. I did though, and I took care of them for years afterward too. I missed my Dad more and more with every passing day, and all of the sudden our memories of him were buried in a pile of ash where our home once stood. Every photo album, every framed picture, and even all the digital pictures that weren’t on Facebook were gone. I didn’t even make it out with my cell phone much less my laptop. It really crushed my heart. I was going to be right in the middle of this insurance claim, the city officials, and the financials on this house fire too. Just one more item in the overwhelming list of crap I had to keep up with. Worse, none of the officials would want to talk to me because I’m a year short on the year tally to be an “Adult”. There’d be a lot of relaying stuff through Mom. It’s not like I cared if she knew what was going on, but it was my job to keep things simple and easy for her. She is an awesome mother, but she seems to thrive when things around her are simple at home. No one can praise a child like my mother can. She related so well to me at every age and through every milestone. She was always right there in the floor with me. We colored. We watched cartoons. We played. We read. We did homework. We swam. We tickled. We had sleepovers and mom was always the star of the party. After Dad died though, I aged. I moved on into my teens and left mom in her footed PJs watching Cartoon Network happy to just be. I’d do anything for her. I’d protect her peace with everything I had! After all, a girl should keep her promises, especially those made over their father’s casket… I may have had the best childhood any kid could ever ask for, at least until dad. We weren’t loaded or anything, but mom’s demeanor almost forced the people around her into a happier simpler mood. She is a force of peaceful love. Her love is tangible, and I fought my teenaged hardest to make sure her light shined for everyone to see. Unfortunately, that laid a heavy burden on me, but it was a burden that I carried voluntarily. Worse though, it was my senior year in high school. I was totally booked up on time already. Paying the bills and watching the budget wasn’t as hard as you might think on my time, but it sure added a layer of worry to my life. Worry that none of my friends had to deal with, but I was ok with that it was my life. I chose to step in for Daddy, no one chose it for me. I wouldn’t let anyone take it from me either. My mind flooded with all the things that needed to be done. “Oh, Mommy!” I sobbed filled with crushing despair thick in the bathroom. “Oh, Baby!” She balled. I listed off all off the calls I needed to make to begin fixing this debacle. I cried to her about how I had to use the hotel phone to do it all, but I couldn’t stay in the office area of the suite long enough to finish a call before I was back in the bathroom. I couldn’t get anything done and it was adding to my sense of hopelessness. ‘Enough! Maddison get your crap together. You swore to Daddy that you’d protect her. You’re hurting her. Listen to her!’ I gave myself a hell of a motivational speech, but it fell on deaf internal ears. Mom came crawling over to me from where she’d collapsed to the floor, still in tears. I was sitting there with my shorts and panties down around my ankles stuck on the toilet like I had been for most of the past day and a half. She struggled up and hugged me fiercely despite my state of undress. We slowly got our shit back together. “Momma I’m so sorry about that. I guess I kinda lost it there.” I said gathering the strands of my resolve. “Oh Maddie,” my mom cooed with the weight of the world on her shoulders. “You are absolutely the best daughter any mother could hope for. You saved me when Daddy passed. You’ve been helping with everything sense then too. Don’t think I don’t know how much of your paycheck goes in my account.” I gave her a sad smile that told her that I knew I was caught. Mom worked in the back office for a medical billing company. They handled the collections for smaller firms like general practitioners or smaller surgical clinics that weren’t affiliated with a hospital system. Mom has a sweet voice and a tender disposition. She was perfect for first contact. She was horrible at the follow up collection calls. Sometimes I forget that she can put on office clothes and carry on like an adult at work. ‘Oops. Guess she’s not always Momma like she is at home.’ I thought. I had a nearly full time job with Tractor Supply Company, almost forty hours a week. Mom made decent money and could cover most of the bills. Dad’s retirement and his life insurance helped us even more, but I moved about half my check to the house account to cover my little car payment. I paid the insurance payments for both of our cars. Essentially, I paid for myself out of mom’s account, but I had thought she never really looked at it. I thought I was being clever, but in hindsight, I wouldn’t have left those duties to a thirteen year old either. She had let me “help” for almost four years, but I was certain, even back then, that she really didn’t check things that often. She wanted someone else to handle those things for her. So when I proved I could, she’d let me. We would never have had any money for new things or entertainment if I asked mom to cover my car, insurance, and other senior stuff. I bought my own clothes for the same reason. I thought I was being sneaky and leaving mom where she would be when I went off to college. That way it would be an easier transition for her, and I suppose that was still true. She just wasn’t quite as oblivious to it as I thought. ‘Guess I’m not as sneaky as I thought I was.’ I conceded. I could handle all the bills online. Mom had added me as an authorized decision maker on everything she could. Until I hit 18, our hands were tied in some places. She’d work, cook, clean, and not have to be burdened with anything else except an occasional “yes, I do” on the phone or a signature here and there. She relied on me handling those decisions for her. Daddy was doing his best to take care of us from beyond the grave, but mom would likely always have to work. It was probably for the best. Too much free time and that level of grief might have been the ruin of her. “It’s better for both of us this way. I have a sense of what income I’m going to need at state, and I don’t have any chores anyway. I’m kinda spoiled and this lets me contribute. Plus, you won’t have to adjust your budget when I leave for college. I can keep taking care of things from up there too.” I try to joke through my pesky tears. “Maddison, you don’t even have to clean your room! I do everything around the house honey. You are very spoiled.” Mom elbowed me. Then she threw on a very serious face. “I know things will change when you go off to State. I’m going to miss you so much. This is just the worst time for all this to happen! Maybe we should just get an apartment or something.” I hugged my mom and flushed the toilet. I was used to being the backbone of my little family. Being this angry and this scared just made me want to cry in frustration, but crying just pisses me off more. It was becoming a cycle feeding on itself and I needed to put a stop to it. I stood up and pulled my shorts and panties back up my slender hips. Then, I sat down next to her on the hotels bathtub wall. I gave my mom a powerful side hug, as much to bolster my courage as to reaffirm hers. “Pfft, you’ll probably see more of me in college than you do right now. If my scholarships come through, I’ll only have to work for my car, gas, and food. I’m going to try and pull enough hours to do that during the week and have the weekends at home for homework and Momma time.” “Really Maddie, you really are? Ewe, I hope you can. Oh, I’m going to miss you so much. I’ll do your laundry.” Mom sobs against my shoulder. “I promise to find a way to help you at school baby. I don’t want your next four years to be like the last few have been. As soon as the fire department makes their report, the home owners will kick in. It’ll get better Maddie, you just wait and see.” “I hope it’s soon. I don’t know how I’m going to keep up with school, college, the bills, and the fire stuff without a phone or a computer Momma.” I confessed to her as my shoulders slumped in defeat. Suddenly, I remembered the crispy computer held our budget, account information, and bank records. I immediately start listing things off building To-Do lists in my head. I had to rebuild all of that from memory, or at least enough of it to make a list of people to call. “How are your little legs honey?” Mom asked as she grabbed my bad leg and sat it in her lap to inspect it. Both of my legs were bruised and cut up pretty badly, but my right leg was at least sprained, possibly broken. I’d bailed out of my bedroom window after all! The smoke had come barreling under my door and I confess to shrieking like a blonde in a slasher movie before jumping for my life. - Back to Monday Night - I smelled the smoke as I saw it billowing out under my door. The scene stunned me for a moment, but I quickly got my wits together and tested the doorknob. Finding it hot, I raced over to my bed and battled the paint-stuck window. I finally jerked it open with a loud wooden thud. I moved back to my door and yelled “Fire” at the top of my lungs three or four times. I hoped that was enough to wake my mom. I was afraid she’d passed out on the couch watching TV and would never wake up again. That was a paralyzing thought. I snapped out of it, and I snagged my pillow with the Power Puff Girls pillow case on it. I chunked it out the window onto our hedges directly below my window. My bedroom was on the third floor, and it was a good distance to the ground from up there. The hedges around my side of our house were old, dense, and about six foot tall, not the best landing zone, but beggars and choosers and what not. I took a labored freighted breath, and slid out of my window. I tried to “fall” out onto my pillow, but only my left leg found it. My right leg fell straight into the hedge tearing it up and wrenching my leg in unnatural directions. I teetered off the top of the hedge and fell down to the ground butt-first in one long continuous action. I hit hard directly on my tailbone. I ended up on the ground with my right leg all bruised and torn up. My hedgerow idea sucked. ‘I guess it could have been worse. At least I didn’t just land on my feet and break a bunch of bones, but this feels almost as bad.’ I imagined. My left butt cheek was pretty banged up too. My lower back was bothering me fiercely from hitting the ground so hard. I felt blackness dancing at the edges of my sight. ‘I guess falling or flinging myself out of the window onto the hedge during my escape wasn’t the best idea. Gotta get my shit together and find out if mom got out. Just as soon as I can convince myself I can walk.’ My right wrist was throbbing from trying to catch myself both in the hedge and on the ground. I was torn up and bleeding everywhere but my left leg that the pillow had protected from the worst of it. It wasn’t a bad list of injuries for a major house fire and two story flight from a third story window! I finally managed to talk my battered body into getting up. I hobbled across the road to the Johnson’s house carrying my stupid pillow. I have no idea why I didn’t just leave it there on the lawn, but I didn’t. I had to get to our emergency location, and mom just had to be there. I clutched my stupid childish pillow tightly, because seriously, the entire neighborhood needed to see Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup! I guess comfort was more important to me than anything else right then, and that pillow had been with me for years. I rounded the corner of my house skirting the heat from the fire. I made it across the road and collapsed in the Johnson’s front yard. My leg wasn’t working right and Mom wasn’t where I wanted her to be, and I think I might have passed out in shock. The next thing I knew, a pair of strong arms was picking me up. I opened my eyes to see Mr. Johnson smiling down at me. “Oh thank God Maddison.” He hugged me close to him and screamed for my mom who was standing in front of our house trying to get to me. She got her only injuries from standing too close to the fire yelling for me to jump to safety. It was sort of stupidly heroic. “Oh My God Maddie, My Baby!” She bellowed running back to me across the road wearing her beat up Bugs Bunny jumper. “Hey Momma.” I grunted out around the pain and confusion. The four of us collapsed to the ground again in a huddle of hugs and reassurances. Sal and Jenny Johnson were our emergency contacts and location. The older neighbors had helped us a great deal since Dad. The four of us sat there on the lawn and watched the hungry fire devour our home while waiting on the professionals to arrive. I’ll always remember that night, but the thing that stood out the most was the fire was so hot I could feel it from across the road. The Woes of Maddison Page Chapter 2 – My Bipolar Bladder - Later that Monday Night - The fire department arrived within eight minutes of mom placing the call from the Johnson’s front yard. It hadn’t made much difference. The old place went right before our very eyes up like dried popsicle sticks. Smoke under my door to the four corner posts of the house falling into the basement only took twenty-eight minutes. Well that what I guessed based on the quick scan of my alarm clock on the way out of my window. When the posts fell I marked the time on mom’s watch just after she assaulted me in our neighbor’s front yard. Twenty-Eight minutes and everything we had been destroyed. Twenty-Eight minutes and our lives were forever changed. Twenty-Eight minutes between life before the fire and life after the fire. “Something in the kitchen went up first baby.” Mom babble to me still in her Bugs Bunny sleeper. She was terrified that I had been stuck and caught in the blaze and it was hard for her to believe I was going to be okay. “It was just so horrible. I couldn’t get to you! I was so scared! Nothing was on, and I was in the living room watching the TV. Then fire raced up the stairwell and I couldn’t get to the stairs. I couldn’t get to you!” She bellowed. “I can’t believe you’re ok. You are ok aren’t you? I was so scared Maddison. All I could think of was you were stuck up there in the fire. I thought I had lost you baby.” She whispered that last part to me and cried. It dawned on her that I likely had a problem getting down from the third floor. Mom frantically freed me from Mr. Johnson’s strong grasp and laid me out on the plush carpet of their manicured lawn. She started running her hands over me asking what hurt as she ran through her first aid training. I remember looking around laying there wondering if their sprinklers would come on while I lay on the grass. Shock does weird things to the mind. That, and mom looked kind of ridiculous checking me for wounds in those bunny footie pajamas. My right leg and arm were bleeding pretty badly. I was cut up all over the place, but my left hand was just scuffed up a little. Mom looked around and put my childlike pillow under my head. ‘I love this pillow and its childish pillow case. I’m kind of glad something from my old life survived. Plus, who likes sleeping on someone else’s pillow? This shall be my squishy!’ I declared mentally channeling my inner Dori. I decided that if mom was ok out there in her goofy PJs then I cherish my old pillow. “Honey, does your head hurt at all? Did you hit your head?” Mom asked me retaining bits and pieces of her emergency classes. “Mandy, the ambulance is here darlin.” The grandmotherly Mrs. Jenny addressed Mom. She had called them while mom was yelling at the fire to let me go. “Ma’am, please step back and speak to my partner Frank. I’ll check on your sister right there.” The EMT told her pointing to his partner. “That’s Maddison, she’s my daughter.” Mom supplied the EMT staggering meekly over to Frank. ‘That’s funny! PJs got ya Mom.’ I chuckled to myself. “Maddison, tell me what happened...” The EMT started, but I don’t really remember the last half of that sentence. I know I answered his questions, but the pain wiped away most of my memory. My next memory was from the ambulance for just a few moments. It was long enough to see mom sitting next to me and that I was strapped onto a gurney. She was talking to the EMT that had checked me out. I remember hearing mom was going to be fine. She’d only had some mild burns on her hands and forearms trying to get to me through the fire. I, on the other hand, needed a trip to the hospital for x-rays, stitches, and who knew what else. - Wednesday - Mom checked “my little legs” and we made our way back to our hotel bed. That whole window-flying hospital-staying experience was sitting at a nine out of ten on the suck-O-meter. In my short life only losing Dad had sucked worse, that had been a solid ten out of ten. I sat down heavily on the hotel bed trying to hold my leg up from the recoil, but my back wasn’t putting up with a slow descent. Mom put my bad right leg up on a stack of pillows to elevate it, cause Dr.’s orders, but my back was hurting no matter how I laid. I didn’t want to go to the store with mom. In fact, I really didn’t want to move at all. I hurt everywhere! It felt like how I imagined being in a car wreck would feel, and I was totally prepared to throw a fit about getting up again. ‘Maddie – 0, Gravity - 1 – Well done gravity! You have surely kicked my ass.’ I chuckled at my own stupid internal commentary. “Momma, I don’t want to go with you.” I whined. “ It’s freezing out there, and I can’t wear pants with this leg splint thing.” Then a tingle in my lady bits hit me again. “Plus, it seems I need to use the bathroom. Again! I shouldn’t have even left. ARGH!” I groused. ‘Why can’t the eff’n toilet be friggin cushioned or something? I need one of those gunshot-in-the-ass pillows from TV.’ I mumbled pushing up out of bed. ‘Of all the leftovers from my two story flight, my bipolar bladder had to be my least favorite.’ I thought. “Honey, you just went, literally moments ago. I’m sure you’ll be fine.” The concern flooded mom’s face while she waved her hands around. I couldn’t help it. I began to cry, “Dammit, I know momma, and it hurts so bad when I get up. Please help me back in there. I’ll just fucking sit on the toilet for the rest of my goddamn life. Maybe I can fold up some towels to sit on.” I lamented. I was filled with exhaustion and aggravation, and my poor attitude got the better of my vocabulary. I hardly ever cuss, out loud at least, but I was tired of… everything. I was exhausted. I threw myself a well-deserved pity party. I’d just have to feel bad about biting mom’s head off later, but being a God fearing young lady from the south, I knew I would be mortified at my own behavior later. How many seventeen year old girls do you know that work thirty plus hours a week, go to school, run cross country at a state level, maintain a 4.16 GPA? I was trying my damnedest to get into the best school I could afford for my bachelors. Now I had to do all that while trying to piece our life back together from the pieces the demon of a fire took from me. Not to mention all the responsibility I picked up after Dad passed, and now my bipolar bladder was forcing my injured back into service it wasn’t apparently prepared to give. I sighed and got up. As always, I was doing my best, and I was way too stubborn to give up. While I wallowed in my own pity, mom helped me up off the bed. I made it vertical with a weight lifters grunt, and I shuffled on to the bathroom by myself. I really needed that tiny bit of independence, but I just left the door open this time since I couldn’t talk to mom if I closed it anyway. I looked at my sickly pale complexion in the bathroom mirror while sitting on the toilet. I stared at it for a solid minute before deciding that the crew of The Walking Dead would have to put color on me to let me shamble on their set! Mom had seen my perky butt a million times, and we were bunked in this one bed suite with little to no privacy anyway. Modesty just didn’t matter to me anymore, at least where my mom was concerned. So, I just left the damn door wide open. ‘God I look horrible. I look like a disabled vampire with coffin head.’ My morbid sense of humor supplied. ‘I feel thin, sort of stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread.’ I mentally quoted one of my favorite books. I had my bad leg stretched out in front of me with my panties around that ankle. ‘I wish I could figure out how to prop it up on the tub and leave it there. This would be way more comfortable.’ I thought while playing around with it unsuccessfully. We’d only been in this suite for a couple days, but it was already wearing on me. I was hurting not wanting to move, but I was cagey and wanting to get out of there. Nothing was mine. Nothing was the same. I couldn’t get anything done without my stuff. I was already battling the senior everything-is-changing-stress, but this was just too much. ‘I have nothing. I mean technically our cars are just singed, but drivable. Bubbly paint doesn’t keep the car from going. The cars were a crispy silver lining I guess.’ I took a stab at cheering myself up. It didn’t work. “Mommy, I don’t know what’s going on inside me.” I broke down again feeling the overwhelming emotional weight of my situation. I needed my mommy, and like always she was right there ready and willing to bend reality for me just like I do for her. I cried into my hands in the bathroom of a hotel with all my dreams falling away in tears and ashes. Seriously, I was conjuring scenarios in my mind where I’d have to stay with mom in an apartment and take care of her for some reason, or a ton of different scenarios where college never happened. My overactive imagination was jumping down every horrible situation I could dream up. I was spiraling. It’s wasn’t one of my finest moments. “What do you mean honey.” Mom sounded petrified. She needed me sure, but right then she had no idea how to help me. “I just went to the bathroom. I mean, I barely peed at all, but I felt like I couldn’t hold it anymore as soon as I sat down. It was hurting to hold it while I walked in here. It felt like I was about to pee all over myself sitting there on the bed. Walking was even scarier. Even when I manage to go a little, the relief doesn’t last long before I’m back at the near pissing myself feeling.” I wailed. “Maddie you didn’t drink anything, and we were only in the other room maybe five minutes. You know there’s nothing in there right? Why don’t you try pushing a little, and I’ll help you lay down again? Then you won’t have to worry.” Mom coached while pointing at my traitorous bladder. “GAWD Momma! I know how to pee. I’m telling you something is wrong. My bladder isn’t full, but I’m tingling like I’m about to wet myself.” I huffed at her while crossing my arms. “Don’t take it out on me young lady! It’s only been a couple days since the fire. Maybe you hurt yourself worse than we thought? I don’t remember talking to the ER guys or the EMTs about bladder stuff. Did you talk to them?” Mom prompted. I dried my eyes with some toilet paper, “No Momma. I’m not even sure it was a thing then. Plus, the pain from the fall was keeping some of this other stuff away. I was hurting too bad to feel the tingle, but it’s all I feel now! And… I’m sorry for yelling.” I conceded hanging my head. Mom sighed and looked down. The look on her face told me her fear had elevated. “Baby, your panties are a little wet. Do you know when that happened?” She asked me still staring down at the condition of my underwear with a patient look of concern in her loving eyes. “They’re WHAT!” I sobbed anew. “It’s not much honey. Maybe you just went a little when you stood up. It looked like it hurt. Ha! that happens to me all the time. Peeing a little here and there happens to a lot of girls. I’ve had to wear a heavy pad since you were born.” Mom offered. It did hurt, but I had no idea that I’d “leaked.” The thought was simply terrifying. ‘OMG!’ “Have you ever held it so long that your control was literally bouncing. You’d flexed the muscles so long they would contract and relax, like a pulse you don’t have control over. That feeling of you have literally one moment longer before there’s a mess to clean up. When your bladder says a rowdy Fuck You and dumps its load without your consent?” I begged her to understand. Mom nodded. “That’s how I’m feeling all the time right now. It’s exhausting and it’s killing my already pissed off back.” I groused. In another fit of age-inappropriate mental fatigue, I dramatically kicked my underwear and shorts off of my bad leg with the good one. I needed the wet panties as far away from me as possible. Mom took some toilet paper and wiped the tears from my face, and started a bath. “I’ll go to Wally World by myself honey. You said your back was hurting, so you just take a nice long hot bath and enjoy all this never ending hotel hot water. Mommy will be right back baby.” She told me visually assessing me for further damage. She wasn’t sure what to do. It seemed like a terrific idea, soaking in the tub. I have always loved to soak in a deep hot bath. Our hot water heater was under too much demand and way too old to keep up with a deep water baths at home. Suddenly, I was excited that I could soak, then shave, and have enough hot water to shower off too. ‘I’ll finally feel human again, at least until I had to resume my porcelain vigilance.’ I sighed. ‘What the hell is going on with me?! Mom’s still got to make that Wal-Mart run, but at least she seems willing to make it on her own now. I’m just glad I don’t have to go and that she can get to her checking account. Fuck!’ I shouted internally. I’d forgotten that I couldn’t “submerge” my leg. Mom had grabbed her purse on the way out the front door of our former home. She still had her debit and credit cards. Thank the Lord! If she’d lost those too, we’d have no access to the meager funds we currently had available. As it was, I only had temporary checks on my account. Work had given me the week off paid. That was super nice of my boss, and the old jerk wasn’t known for his super niceness. Mom had taken the week off too. She wasn’t fortunate enough for bonus unpaid leave though. She had to burn the rest of her vacation and sick/personal days. She wouldn’t be off around Christmas now. That realization hit me hard. “Oh momma, all your Christmas presents were already under the tree, and I can’t take a bath cause of the stitches.” I cried yet again feeling the weight of our loss. My emotions were all over the place. I knew it, and still couldn’t stop it. That just pissed me off more. I was really excited to give her the Sylvester Jumper set. It was the pivotal part of her Christmas. Mom still had what was left of the Bugs footed sleeper, but I don’t think she would be sleeping in it anymore. It probably reminded her of the fire, and neither of us wanted that. My resolve hardened again. Mom would have the Sylvester jumper set for Christmas! With that goal I rediscovered my strength, if only temporarily.
  3. Chapter One I sat at the bar, quietly surveying the crowd. It was a good crowd for a Saturday, I just had to find the right girl. This was the perfect part of town to find my type. Smart, willful, playful, with a high pressure job. Those were the ones who needed to let go the most. The past couple of weeks of hunting had been frustrating. Things with Lauren hadn't gone the way I planned. I really thought she was going to be the one, she ticked all the right boxes and she was a joy to be around. She had balked at the last minute, though.. and she dumped me. I don't know which was worse, that or how things had gone with Kailee. Kailee had gone too willingly, it was too easy to move her along... there was no challenge, no thrill. Kailee had been disappointing. I had gotten what I thought I wanted, but I had to cut her out of my life after I had it. It hadn't been easy to admit, but she hadn't been right for me. I needed more from my partner. I scanned the girls.. too loose, too messy, too cold. I would know her when I found her, I knew my type. She would look oh-so-serious with some very adult and mature fashion, but there would be a tell. Lauren's had been a peek of Hello Kitty panties. The ones under the most pressure to succeed were always the ones who wanted someone else to take over. Life was too hard for them, they needed to be "on" all the time at work, had to do a better job than the boys, had to be perfect. That was just part of life in Silicon Valley. By the time I came along, they were so happy to hand over control. Finally, she caught my eye. A boho girl, that style was getting popular. Multiple bracelets, dangly earrings, earth tone makeup, chunky sandals.. she had a good figure, you could tell she worked out. She had a smile that lit up her eyes, someone had just told her a funny joke. Ah, but the tell. The tell was her purse. She couldn't help it, she needed something cute.. her purse was shaped like a squirrel - she had what was essentially a stuffed animal on her at all times. This is how I knew she wanted the loss of control I needed to give. I had to have her. The latest K.Flay blared overhead, conversation was impossible.. so I'd have to do this with a look. I leaned back, my hair brushing the bartop and I watched her. Humans could feel when someone was watching them with intent, this wouldn't take long. Her eyes found mine, and I smiled. I had a million smiles, every one practiced carefully. This smile said, "I like your style, and I'm pretty sure you like mine." She looked down into her drink and blushed. That was all the invitation I needed. If I had read her wrong, she would have reacted with fear or hostility, not with embarrassment. She wanted to be noticed. I waited for her to glance up again and I tilted my head. This smile said, "I'm nice and I'd like to talk to you." You could say so much with just a look if you knew how. I turned slowly as she moved closer, drawn by my wordless communication. I signaled the barkeep. I order a Guinness for myself and an Apple Bomb for her. We'd see if my read was spot on or not. When she slides up next to me, I don't make eye contact. I just turn slightly so she can see the smile on the corner of my mouth. "You looked thirsty," I measured my voice.. it was hard to do under the dirty bass of K.Flay, but I was practiced. My voice was low, resonant, but playful. I turned slowly to face her as the barkeep set down our drinks. With a fluid motion, I picked up the Guinness and took a draw, but didn't touch hers. "Ever tried an Apple Bomb?" My guess was that she hadn't, it wasn't a very popular drink even though it was from this area. But big girls who were hiding little girls inside... they liked it. "No, I haven't... thanks. I'm Dani," she slid up next to me and took the untouched drink and sipped it. "Wow, this is really good. Thanks again." "Vanessa," I smiled, turning toward her fully and sweeping a strand of hair back from my face, tucking it behind my ear. I tapped my own dangling earring on the way down, causing it to glint at Dani. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Dani." I had to play this part carefully. Too strong and she'd bolt, too weak and she'd ignore the hook. "It's so good to just relax with some music, away from the pressures of the office." Nailed it. Her right hand tensed as I said it, she had some stress getting to her. "Ugh, it really is," she said, letting her weight rest more fully on the barstool. "What do you do?" "I'm a consultant. Systems analysis," I smiled warmly - this smile said, 'I have a tough job, too'. My job was to find the weak points in an organization, and destroy them. And I was very good at what I did, reading people is what made me so good. "What about you?" "Herding cats," Dani grimaced. "Project management then," my smile projecting 'I feel your pain', "I've been there." "How did you know?" she laughed lightly, musically, the blue light of the bar dancing across her green eyes. Oh, how I wanted her. "Lucky guess," I finished the Guinness and paid the tab. The hook was set, I couldn't linger. "I've got to go, it was really nice meeting you, Dani. I thought I was up to this, but I'm still busted up about my girlfriend dumping me. Maybe I'll see you around?" Her eyes flashed a twinge of disappointment. Perfect. "Yeah.. it was nice to meet you, Vanessa. Thanks for introducing me to this drink, I like it." "I'm glad - have a great night." I stepped through the front door of the bar, pausing to look back at her. She was watching me go. I gave her a smile that said, "I really wish I didn't have to go now." She gave the smallest wave in return. I exited into the crowd of Castro Street, the heart of downtown Mountain View.. but I didn't go far. No, I had just ruined Dani's night. She wouldn't be staying much longer. She would suddenly want to go home... if I was right. It took her about ninety seconds longer than I expected. She slipped out the front door alone and started walking north. I flowed through the crowd, following her. It was a warm night, but not too hot. The bars were full and the people were happy, it was a good night. Dani went straight for her car. Silver Prius, so typical. I leaned on the corner, obscured by a tree. "Naughty girl," I said quietly to no one, "You shouldn't drive after having that drink. I'll punish you for that later." I committed her license plate to memory and watched as she drove off. North, then west. I adjusted my purse on my shoulder and started walking home myself. I had some research to do. * * * I spent two days studying Danielle Peters, learning her habits, her path, her preferences. Every tidbit I learned only solidified the feeling that I had to have her. Her credit card statements laid everything bare to me. Dani was a reader, a painter, a jogger. She went to the same coffee shop in Sunnyvale every day and ordered the same thing - iced chai, the only thing on the menu at her coffee shop that came to the amount that went on her card daily. She had no pets, and according to her social media profile, her last relationship ended roughly. Her name was Elaine, another high-powered type.. they probably drove each other crazy. Too similar. I knew where Dani worked, what gym she went to, what gas station she filled her car at, what grocery store she frequented.. credit cards were beautiful things for an interested party like me. I just happened to be at her favorite coffee shop at exactly the same time she visited normally the next day, laying in wait.. sipping a mocha. Dani didn't want someone too similar. Normally on a bright day like this, I'd wear a wide-brimmed hat and a pair of sunglasses.. but I needed Dani to notice me and recognize me, so I suffered through. I thumbed through a magazine, Us Weekly, something Dani wouldn't be interested in. She had no time for gossip. I had positioned myself so she'd see me just as she came out with her chai. "Vanessa?" her voice was light, unsure. I looked up and smiled at her 'Oh, I'm so surprised but so very happy to see you here!' "Dani! Wow, um hey - I'm sorry I disappeared on you the other night. You seemed really nice... I just... " I trailed off, an invitation for her to step in. "It's okay," she said as she stepped closer. I gestured to the chair across from me, inviting her to join me. "I'm really glad I ran into you... that drink was amazing." She covered. She was interested, she took the bait. Now I just needed to coax her in. "I had a feeling you'd like it, you just seemed like an apple sort of girl.. sweet," she blushed.. I was coming on a little too strong, I had to play it just a bit shier. "I.. I was kicking myself all night that I didn't ask for your number. You seemed so nice.. just this energy about you.. " I looked down, feigning embarrassment, "It's stupid." I pushed my chair back and started to stand. She reached across the table and placed her hand on mine. She was trembling ever so slightly.. the hair on her arm was raised. "No, Vanessa.. I was wishing the same thing," the last word rang flat. A lie. She hadn't been thinking the same thing, but she wanted me to think she had been that interested.. she was ready to take a risk. Blushing on command wasn't easy, but I did it nonetheless. "I uh, here.. " I fished a business card out of my purse and scribbled one of my cell numbers on it. I slid it across the table to her, I had to appear reluctant to touch her back. The weakness would draw her in. "Would you.. like to get dinner sometime? I know this Chinese dumpling place that I haven't been to in a while.. " I knew she liked the place, she'd left a positive Yelp review for it, she hadn't been there in eight months. "That sounds really nice.. how about Friday?" "I.. that sounds great," I looked her in the eyes now and my smile read 'I really, really like you but I'm afraid you don't like me the same way'. "I'll text you the place and we can meet there?" "How about I pick you up?" Shit. I misread that one, I couldn't be the passenger in her car, it would tip the power dynamic too far in her favor. I was playing too timid. My mind spun for a moment on how to salvage this. "Actually, I get carsick if I'm not driving. How about I pick you up instead?" "I would like that a lot," her smile read 'I think I'm falling for you already, I need to know more about you'. I needed to feed her a tidbit. "I'm really glad you didn't think I was coming on too strong at the club. I really like that song and you looked so beautiful under the lights. Your eyes light up when you laugh.. I knew I had to learn more about you." "I'm an open book," she was actually completely open. She was making herself vulnerable, faster than I expected. I hoped this wouldn't turn out to be another Kailee. "What would you like to know?" "What's your favorite movie?" I asked - it was a test. If she was a Kailee, she'd tell me something cutesy. I'd break it off right there and resume the hunt anew this weekend, I'd done it often enough. No amount of wanting her was worth making the wrong pick again. If she had a shell for me to crack through... she'd say something serious. "It's stupid because nobody likes it, but Stranger Than Fiction - you know, that Will Ferrel movie that wasn't really a comedy?" A drama about a writer. Funny, but not silly. A good answer. "Oh, I like that one. His antics usually bother me, but he was really good in that one." "Exactly! What about you?" I went similar to her with the last response, I had to give her something mysterious, something to draw her in here. "You'll laugh," I said sourly. "I won't laugh, I promise." "Amadeus." "The one about Mozart? Okay, I didn't expect that one. Why?" "Tortured artists," I smiled. Just then my phone alarm went off. Two minutes earlier in the conversation than I planned. I had set it up to use a ringtone as the alarm, so it would look like I was getting a call. I slipped my phone out of my purse and held it under the table. "I'm sorry, Dani.. I've got to go. It's work, you know how it is. Text me your number and address.. I'll pick you up on Friday." "Sounds great. I'm glad I ran into you, Vanessa." "I'm glad you did too," I agreed, "Hello?" I greeted my telephone alarm, silencing it, grabbed my mocha with a little wave to Dani, and walked off.
  4. So, I've been trying to find different narrative voices to try out and see what speaks to me. I did the sissy, typical abdl story thing, which I will continue, don't poop your pants! I did a dark short story that probably no one should read, it's seriously so dark that it screams "Wakanda forever!" after you read it. Now I'm here with something unlike either of those two things, a love story! Yay! I've never written a love story and I've only written one short story, so this may or may not be a complete dumpster fire outside the zoo on animal haircut day kind of terrible, but it made me happy to write it and maybe one of you lovelies will find it enjoyable. Anyway, I'd very much appreciate it if you told me what you thought in the comments below, if you liked it, great, if you hated it, also great, let's talk about it and see if we can't make me a great writer when I grow up. Anyway, here's my new jam! Her Lullaby By: RambleLamb The screen glowed in the dark of the room, bathing the bed and it's occupant in the cold light, destroying what useful eyesight she still had left. A quiet yawn competed with the sound of the laptop's fan ramping up as the young woman in the bed stared at the screen in anticipation. Without taking her eyes from the screen she felt around the bed, searching the sea of cutesy, colorful sheets for her prize. Her search ended with disappointment and had to be called off prematurely to rub her sore and puffy eyes, the hours she'd spent crying up to now having taken their toll on her physically as well as mentally. Her search resumed and quickly bore fruit as she found her pacifier down near her knee, her pale white skin glowingly in the monitor light making her look like some kind of primordial cave monster, a wretchedly adorable primordial cave monster, but a primordial cave monster all the same. Pacifier in mouth, she shifted her position, the plastic sheet beneath her childish bedding crinkling with deafening loudness in the quiet night air of her bedroom, and laid on her stomach, moving the laptop to the end of the bed. Fresh thoughts of her latest romantic failure bubbled up to the surface of her mind and the tears started to form again and she buried her head in her folded arms and began to sob. She wasn't sad that he'd broken things off with her, her low self esteem and shallow belief in herself and her value as a human being ensured that she was prepared for that inevitable outcome from the jump, no, she was sad because she'd made a fool of herself by trying to step out of her comfort zone and play the role of a sexy, normal girl and that had gone over about as well as a dog trying to teach a university calculus class. She knew her place. She knew her station in life. She knew that her role was that of cute little girl that can't seem to handle using the potty. How could she forget that when the thick padding around her waist was currently swollen with hours of reminder juice? No, she knew who and what she was and what was expected of her, or rather, what she assumed was expected of her, and she'd stepped up and out anyway and now here she was, alone on a Friday night waiting for a response from the person she actually wanted. She'd gotten together with Chad, the name voted "Most Likely To Ensure Your Kid Grows Up to be a Douche Canoe", out of desperation more than anything else. She was lonely and horny and he was there and conscious so she'd approached him as he left the counter at the coffee shop. Chad was a government issued "Red Flag Checklist", and she saw a lot of them but rationalized that since her loneliness was reaching Sarah McLachlan benefit concert for shivering animals in cages and alleys levels of depressing she needed to ignore his platinum blonde hair tied into a man bun and put aside the fact that he was dressed like a tennis instructor that was having a midlife crisis and decided he wanted to be in a 90's era Seattle grunge band. She had to overlook the "electronic cigarette" in his hand, ready to deliver that sweet sweet S'Mores smelling vapor into his lungs and into a cloud that everyone in the immediate area would just have to deal with because hashtag yoloswag. Despite being a completely socially retarded person and having the anxiety level of a chihuahua in a mosh pit when faced with the prospect of talking with people face to face, she'd done well, even though she asked if he wanted to get coffee sometime while standing in a coffee shop with her already holding her beverage and him waiting for his to be finished being prepared. She left the coffee shop with his number and practically ran home to share her news with her friend. The site was a forum for stories and discussions about the lifestyle and fetish of adults wearing diapers and pretending to be little kids and babies in their behavior. She'd joined the site to share her writings, but was also hoping that that would open the door to meet new people and make friends, possibly even find someone to be more than friends with. She wasn't sure whether a Mommy or a Daddy was what she wanted for herself, but she knew that she wanted someone compassionate and patient, someone that would be able to manage her emotional shortcomings and mental hangups. She sent her message sharing the accomplishment of asking a guy out and waited to see if she'd get a reply. She smiled to herself as she put her dirty blonde hair into a loose ponytail and heard the chirp from her phone followed by the little red number '1' popping up on the little letter icon in the top corner of the page. She wiggled her bottom happily, wetting her diaper a little as she clicked the icon and brought up the response. "Meeting" the girl that went by the username "ApexofEloquence" was something unexpected. The new girl, deciding to beat people to the punch, had decided on the name "BigDumbBaby" and had stumbled upon of one of the prolific writer's stories while posting her own first attempt at writing. She drank the story up, entranced by the deft use of language that was reserved for best selling authors, not someone on a diaper fetish story board. The juxtaposition of this unfathomably amazing writing prowess in a realm full of barely literate masturbatory fantasies given life was intoxicating to her and she shared her thoughts in a comment that basically boiled down to a small child babbling about how wonderful their new toy was while no one actively listened and just kind of nodded and smiled. Apex took the praise well and established similar interests in the response she'd posted, leaving Baby full to the brim with happiness over the spark of a connection, a chance encounter turning toward possible friendship. As more comments and more responses were filed Baby found herself feeling more than friendly toward Apex. She'd never been in love before and had certainly never been loved before, at least not by anyone that wasn't legally obligated to love her by the laws of shitting out a child, but no one had ever loved her romantically before. When the personal messages had started was when Baby realized she was in love with Apex. Every word that this woman used filled a role within a sentence and that sentence took its place within a paragraph of opulence, pregnant with emotion and raw strength to move a person at their very core. Baby read and reread each message, delighting in them as she swam in the feelings of infatuation, her face plastered with a ridiculously happy smile that nothing in her life had managed to ever come close to replicating. Baby had confessed her love to Apex on a whim one night, her heart racing and her diaper warming as she hovered the mouse over the "send" icon. Her mind swirled with possible outcomes, rejection mostly, imagining Apex turning on her in an uncharacteristically cruel manner, laughing at the naivety of this young girl that conducted herself in the general population of the forum like an overgrown toddler with the attention span of a piece of cotton. She imagined Apex posting the confession for all to see and everyone laughing at her and commenting about what a stupid baby she was for thinking she had any kind of chance with someone as universally respected as Apex. Regret filled Baby as she sat numbly staring at the screen, chiding herself for thinking any good could come of this gambit. She wished she could take it all back but assumed that the length of time between sending the confession and receiving a response was due to Apex reading it and possibly having to clean up an unfortunate wetting accident because she'd laughed so hard at Baby's expense and thus deleting it now would serve no purpose, the damage had been done. Baby had fallen asleep crying, her pacifier doing little to quell her embarrassed sobs, and she dreamed that night of Apex towering over her, pointing and laughing, the sound booming in Baby's ears like a thunderous drum. She found herself in a crib with a dunce cap on her head, pages of her story strewn about the crib bedding with large red F's on them circled hastily like a teacher with little time or patience for an underperforming student had graded them between sips of heavily "Irished" coffee. Baby had stood up and toddled to the side of the crib yelling pleas of mercy at the giant woman, but every word came out not as the intended word, but as a drool soaked, infantile babble which only brought further peals of laughter from her tormentor. Baby began to wail in earnest, dropping to her bottom in resignation as the air above the crib was filled with more giants, all laughing at her derisively, shrinking down and morphing into a mobile above her head as she looked up with tear blurred vision. She clutched her stuffed otter to her and began to suck her thumb, pausing as the stuffed otter struggled to pull free of her grasp, revealing Apex's head on the stuffed otter's body. "God, you're pathetic." the Apex otter spat in disgust. Baby tried to protest but remembered that her words were meaningless anyway and continued slurping noisily on her thumb as she watched the Apex otter climb her side and march across her tummy. "Did you really think I would want to have anything to do with a sniveling infant like you?" the Apex otter sneered. "What would we even talk about?" it asked as it sat down crisscross applesauce on her tummy. Baby hiccuped sullenly between sobs and babbled wetly around her thumb. The Apex otter laughed uproariously at her, falling onto its back and kicking its stubby stuffed legs, holding its stomach as it rolled around. "I-I-I can just imagine me starting the conversation with an insightful anecdote about the duality of man and you'll smile at me and fill your little diaper." the Apex otter said between gasps for air and giggles. Baby flushed crimson and munched her thumb as she began to grunt and- She'd woken up just as she'd fallen asleep, crying, her feelings of inadequacy and sadness compounded by her dream which was thankfully fuzzing out of her memory even as she rubbed her wet eyes with the back of her hands and retrieved her pacifier from next to her pillow and put it into her mouth sullenly. She looked up at her laptop, the screen black after hours of inactivity. She stuck her leg out and nudged the mouse with her toe bringing the screen to life once again, revealing a little letter icon with a red number "1" on it. She sucked nervously on her pacifier and leaned forward to move to the end of the bed and put her hand on the mouse, moving up to the letter icon and taking a deep breath before clicking onto it. Baby, I can't tell you how wonderful it is to know that you have feelings for me. I confess that I've been feeling similarly about you. I find you to be quite delightful to talk to, you're funny and I love the words you use in your story. Your writing style is very entertaining and I find myself rereading every message you send me just because of how lovely a picture it paints about who you are as a person. I would love to continue talking to you and learn more about you and see where things go from there. Thank you for reaching out to me, I greatly admire the braveness you've demonstrated by taking a chance to share your feelings with me, I think you're a wonderful girl and I'm very proud of you as I know how hard taking the initiative in this instance must have been for you. I can't wait to hear from you! All my love, Apex Baby squealed loudly, her pacifier dropping from her mouth as the near sonic frequency of her excitement filled the room and she flopped backward onto her bed giggling happily and kicking her legs. She wiggled her way back down to her computer and typed as fast as her excited little fingers could go. Apex, I am so ridiculously happy right now, you have no idea! She stopped typing, her mind working on the downsides of being overly eager with Apex, proving herself to be a silly little girl with no restraint that just vomited up all her thoughts without even trying to collect them into some kind of coherent message. She thought of all the wonderful words Apex used to describe her, wonderful among them, she thought of those words and the tone with which they were strung together. Apex obviously cared for her, that much was apparent even without the girl's admission, but the more Baby thought about it, the more she began to notice a pattern in the messages of the past and went back through them to confirm. She found that every message from the first to the most recent was written in such a way that it was clear Apex was more of a Big, the term for a caregiver or dominant partner in the community they were currently chatting in, to Baby's far more little demeanor. When Baby sent her messages out they were written by a girl that was happy to have a friend, excited to share things with that friend, eager to garner the approval and praise of that friend, like a small child with an older sibling or parent. The love was there, but it wasn't romantic. Baby didn't want to be with Apex in a carnal way, she just wanted to be with her. Rereading her confession message she found that she'd basically told Apex how great she was and how pretty her words were and how jealous she was of her talent but the important message, the one that she'd agonized over and had bad dreams about was relegated to one small statement at the end, "You make me feel little and safe with your pretty, soft words. I wish I could sew them into a blankie or jammies and have them keep me warm and safe all night always.". Baby wondered if Apex was romantically interested in her or if she simply saw her as a little girl to be cared for. Baby furrowed her brow wondering if that was such a bad thing, on the one hand she'd never been romantic with anyone before and the stress of that was something she wasn't sure she could deal with while also sorting out this tangle of crossed wires she found herself bound up in, on the other hand, if Apex was interested in being someone in her life that looked out for her and wanted to take care of her what would be the problem there? After all, Apex had been there for her when things had gone south with Chad, her words calming the crying girl almost instantly, the sweet sentiments about Baby's value and worth as a person making her feel as if nothing else in the world existed beyond the two of them and she was light as a feather being swaddled in the other girl's adoration as the words melodically flowed around bringing her serenity in her time of turmoil. She smiled as she thought of these feelings and started writing. My dearest Apex, I've been struggling to organize my thoughts and make them make sense to me so that I can present them to you in a way that will make sense to you. I thought when I wrote you that I was telling you how in love with you I was, but somehow I'd written something that came across to me after reading it later as a confession of love more akin to a younger sister talking to an older sister or parent and I think I've figured out why that is. I was an only child growing up so I never had a sibling to look up to and admire and think the world of, to love. When you talk to me I feel very little, but not in a bad way, not even a little bit. I never feel like you're talking down to me, more that you're meeting me at my level to talk to me, that you're tailoring your message to fit me and my level of emotional development, which is obviously quite stunted. I've never had anyone care enough about me that they crafted their statements just for me. I've never really had anyone talk to me rather than at me and you doing it resonates so strongly with me on a subconscious level that I instantly and completely loved you. You're so smart and compassionate and you take time to listen to me and to fold my feelings into your responses because you want me to be okay and to be happy. I come to you a blubbering mess and you don't get annoyed with me, you don't get frustrated with my myriad of mental and emotional issues, you embrace them as a part of who I am and assure me that I'm valid and my feelings are valid and that I'm lovely and deserve to be loved and that's not something anyone has ever told me before. I was trying to come up with a profound analogy for your words, something that would do them justice but that would also crystallize my feelings so perfectly that you would instantly know exactly how you make me feel and what you mean to me, and all I could think was that your words are like a lullaby. When I read your messages the world falls away and I'm at peace, no matter how sad I am or how anxious, the moment I start reading what you wrote I'm calmer and the more I read the calmer I get and by the time I'm done reading I'm content and feeling warm and safe. To say that your words make me feel little isn't entirely accurate as it doesn't fully capture the magnitude of the effect your words have on me. When I read your words I start wetting myself, not even intentionally, it's almost Pavlovian at this point. As soon as I see that the little red number belongs to you the trickle starts and as I start to read it grows steadily until I'm finished. That calmness is profound to me, even if it's completely embarrassing. This is probably going to sound weird, but trust me, it's meant to be wholly positive, you're the human embodiment of every item that brings joy to little me. You're the pacifier that stops my fussing and helps me to calm down. You're the soft, dry diaper that wraps around me to protect me from ruining the things around me. You're the baby shampoo that smells like lavender and helps me feel at ease before bedtime. You're the bottle of warm milk that warms my tummy on cold nights and puts me to sleep with a satisfied smile on my face. You're the soft melody being hummed to me as I'm rocked to sleep. I think all of this means that you're the perfect Mommy type person, but I'm not an expert or anything, I mostly just make awkward jokes when I'm nervous, so you might just be a living nursery...and there it is. I don't expect you to respond with anything like "OMG of course I'll be your Mommy!", I know that you're little too and I don't want to make you feel like I'm trying to encroach on that in any way, I mainly just needed to tell you how you make me feel in the best way I know how, and I hope that I did a good job. You mean the absolute world to me, and I thought you should know. Love always, Baby She hit send and flopped onto her side with a contented sigh, feeling incredibly free and good about her message. She didn't know what Apex would say, but she was sure it would be positive and she was sure that even if she wasn't interested in being a Mommy, given that Apex herself identified as a little, though she seemed so much bigger in Baby's eyes than Baby seemed to herself, she would more than likely have a lifelong big sister, and that was just fine with her. When the little red number popped up on the screen an hour later Baby smiled and calmly shifted herself into position to read it, no doubt or worry in her mind, just the warm happiness that she carried with her always in her heart and mind thanks to Apex's words.
  5. The Diapered Story of Robin Smith and Her Unconventional Solutions. 1. *The sound of Jawas fills the cab of my car making me smile.*Allen told me they were haggling over scrap on Tatooine, but I had no clue. Don’t get me wrong, I love those movies, but nothing like my husband does. Clearly, he has been messing with my phone again. “Ok Google, Read New Text.” I tell the dead air in my car while rolling my eyes at my nerdy husband’s antics. “You have one new text from Allen at five thirty-two PM. Do you want to hear it?” “Yes.” I tell my phone.The female computerized voice reads back my husband’s text. It is an odd juxtaposition listening to his words and imagining his face to the female’s jilting voice. Google reads, “Shit hone. That ducks. You don’t have a lot of options there.”Autocorrect hates him. It always makes me giggle while I try to interpret what he’s going on about. I get tired of dictating to my phone and pick it up directly. Normally, I’d wait and talk slowly through the menu’s to send a reply, but it wasn’t dangerous just sitting here. I’m not about to text and drive. That shit is dangerous!I text him back.[Me:] Radio says there’s a tractor trailer rig overturned. I’m locked in. I can’t stop bouncing my legs. I gotta pee so freaking bad! At least Molly’s sleeping through it. Thank god for pool day.[Allen:] ITH (our own code – In The House)[Me:] You never beat me home! (Yeah, I’m whining at this point.)[Me:] I don’t know what to do! If I pee my pants, the leather will be fine but the carpet…[Allen:] You can’t do anything about it babe. Don’t hurt yourself. I’ll have the car cleaned.[Me:] You’d use Bill though! We KNOW them![Allen:] You have a leaky 3.5 year old in the car. They won’t know who it was. [Me:] Still, I’d know…[Allen:] Getting in the shower. Text me when you finally break free. [Me:] KI sit there looking around at an utter loss. Molly’s daycare is only fifteen minutes away from the house on the interstate. I had come up on the wreck just after I picked up my daughter. I was still a mile away if the radio report was correct. I was locked in and at a full stop before I knew what had happened. No matter which direction I look, all I can see are cars. Worse, I’m on an inside lane and can’t even off-road through the median! I’m stuck tight, and my bladder isn’t happy about it. In fact, it feels like it’s going to be downright rebellious.The tide is changing and I began to lose the fight with lactic acid and muscle fatigue. I shouldn’t have left the house without peeing first, but I thought I’d be home in thirty minutes! Turns out that was a bad decision, one that was biting me in the ass. The muscles between my legs twinge. I’m long past the pain stages. In fact, everything that I’ve been clinching is numb. I smack at my knees trying to get some feeling back into my legs and to distract myself from the numbness and the impending disaster. I start singing along to the radio at the top of my lungs. That distraction doesn’t work either. Molls, just keep sleeping baby. Mommy can’t handle peeing herself in front of you. I thought dreading the implications that seeing me wet myself would have on my daughter. Allen said I could blame the mess on my little Molls, but that doesn’t feel right either. I need a solution. Spontaneously, a really crazy thought burns brightly in my head. I snap a picture of my hand coming out of my daughters diaper bag and send it to my husband before breaking out into a feverish flurry of activity. I turn up the radio to keep all my wiggling from waking up Molly. I can’t believe I’m about to do this… I can’t believe I’m doing this… I can’t believe I did that…-----I get home at fifteen after six, which is far later than I normally pull up. I’m super not thrilled about it either! Traffic was a bitch even after I FINALLY got past the wreck. I’m not sure how my half day of working from home turned into eight full hours of work, or how easing back into fulltime turned into such a stressful day. The lousy drive home from picking up Molly was the icing on my crap cake. I am very anxious to get my daughter in the house and try to find a way to process this situation. I need a fix of my man! I need to cuddle up to him and watch some TV, and maybe drink a glass of wine. I stand up stretching my back and lean against my car. I take a breath then reach in and grab all our stuff. Lastly, I shoulder our diaper bag popping open Molly’s door. I wake her up with sweet words. Molly takes my hand grabbing my fingers tightly and we make our way to the house. I have an unbalanced load for sure, and it's leaning heavily to my diaper bag side. Waddling around didn’t make it anything graceful let me tell you!Thank God she's walking now. I'd be done in if I had to carry her too. I wouldn’t have had the strength. My little Doodlebug is too big for me to haul her around on my hip anymore. I think sadly.She toddles beside me into the house. She doesn’t quite wake up either. She sways on her feet still groggy shambling like a zombie. I smile entering my house. It is simply thrilling to be home, it smells like safety and relaxation. Today, it seems like a major accomplishment just to get here. It had seemed impossible only thirty minutes ago. My little angel and I had been stuck for more than an hour behind that overturned tractor trailer less than ten miles from our house! I drop everything on the couch leaving Molly just inside our front door. She sways on her feet trying to wake up, but with little success. My attitude went from relief to anger in a heartbeat wanting to get out of my work clothes and Allen nowhere to be found.“Allen.” I bellow stress lining my voice. Seriously, he should be here! He knew I'd be coming in in a hurry.“Hey, Rob. Glad my girls…” He inhaled sharply seeing my face. “I take it you’re both wet?”, he chuckles.The balls on this man!“Funny aren't ya!” I growl. “Just take her will you. I'd like to get cleaned up.” I shoot him my best grouchy face, and let me tell you it can melt the paint off the walls! “Are you still wearing it? I mean did it fit?” My devoted husband stutters with an odd air about him. It’s almost seems like he is excited and it’s overriding his sense of self-preservation. I blushed instantly losing my bluster, “Ya to both. I mean I need to go freshen up, and I'm sure Molly would like a fresh diaper.”“Show me.” He insists not moving an inch after taking Molly’s sleepy little hand.“What! No. It’s bad enough I'm wearing it and its freaking wet! I'm not going to be showing this thing off. I’m supposed to be sexy to you, not some kind of screw-up.” I gasp.“I'm going to be honest here. Those do nothing for me on Molly, but I've been messed up thinking about it since you texted me that picture of her diaper. I wasn’t sure if you’d use it. I can't believe it fit.” Allen confesses.“I couldn't either. I mean it's a stretch, but our Doodlebug isn't very little. In fact, I probably shouldn’t really carry her around anymore. She doesn’t need to see this.” I ramble not so stealthily to divert his attention. I say anything trying to distract him with my moment of nostalgia from earlier.I’m super embarrassed about my situation, but at only twenty-four, I am still very interested in keeping my husband turned on. Getting him excited gets me that way too. Most of the time it would be a win-win situation, but this isn’t one of those times.But, the look on Allen’s face gives me pause. My excuse to be out of this thing was that it wouldn’t be attractive, but is it. Is he turned on?I think about it and decide I am pretty comfortable in one of Molly’s diapers, even though it was a little soggy and was pulling tightly at my hips. He clearly wants to see it. If it turns him on... Wearing it doesn’t cost me anything but some embarrassment.“Show me, babe.” Allen interrupts my thoughts prompting me a second time.“Pick her up first.” I instruct and he complies.Almost on auto-pilot, I kick off my heels and slide out of my slacks. I drop my boy-short style panties which leaves me in my blouse and Molly’s size five Luvs diaper. It’s a startling contrast, half a business outfit and half a toddler's. I try to pull together some sexy thoughts so I can model the diaper for him. I end up laughing instead. Allen laughs too. His laughing caught our little Doodlebug’s attention causing her to wake up from her shoulder nap. She looks around for a moment to see what all the laughter is about. “Mommy, it's ok. That's what diapers are for. You'll make it next time.” She tells me full of love and support. ----- The Diapered Story of Robin Smith and Her Unconventional Solutions. 2. Molly parrots the phrase she'd heard so many times in the last couple years. My poor little Doodlebug continues to have some setbacks with her potty training. She’s heard that line a lot. My tall three year old daughter takes after her daddy. We are betting Molly will end up over six feet tall. I’m worried I'll wake up any day now and she’ll be taller than me. I’ll go to get her out of bed and she’ll stand up in some cute little girl night gown and I’ll have to look up to look her in the eyes. The doctors tell us that she’ll grow out of the bladder problems eventually. They said her bladder isn’t keeping up with the rest of this growth spurt. Things will even out in a year or so. “Thanks Doodlebug. I can't believe how comfortable this thing is Allen.” I say feeling the outside of the soggy diaper. “Do I need to give you two a minute.” He teases me. He might, I thought. Damn, I can’t believe I thought that. This is super comfy though. A bit tight, but all warm and soft feeling inside and out. Watching me play around with the diaper clearly gets my husband wound up. Suddenly, I find myself excited too. The diaper is still comfortable to me, but I felt... naughty!?! Standing there in a wet diaper, in my living room, in front of my horney husband, and lovely little daughter. I send Allen off to change Molly while I head to change myself and get cleaned up. I slowly make my way to our master bathroom and start the shower. Shutting the bedroom door, I look the diaper over checking the fit for the first time. The length is ok. The diaper comes up over my ass and covers my lady bits, but the sides are struggling to stay latched without my panties holding them together. Still, it fit! I can’t believe it. I rub the wet front panel and clinically study the garment. I've changed countless diapers on my Doodlebug, but this one is different. I focus in on the diaper so completely that my mind stills. That almost never happens! I bet the size up would fit pretty good. Wonder what my options are? Maybe there’s adult or teen diapers out there I could get. It seemed to hold up most of that wetting. I’ll need to start shaving again. Allen will love that. I think I’ll like that feeling too. Smooth skin next to delicate cotton. I shiver and it dawns on me that I haven’t finished peeing. I sit down on the toilet with the diaper still on. I decide to let it have its shot at holding a full wetting. I release into the diaper and smile at the hissing sounds. Well, that’s not subtle at all. I sit there on the toilet grinning like a fool. I have a short internal debate before letting it all go and just going for it. I wet the diaper with the rest of that initial payload that I had been holding back since the wreck. Surprisingly, it holds ok till the very last when I heard the tinkle of my water hitting the toilet water. I sit for a bit to let the diaper catch up with my flood. Then, I stand feeling a little bit of my urine still sloshing around inside waiting to be absorbed. I know from years of changing Molly that there is a big difference in a small wetting and a full one. She’s getting big enough that she can flood her size fives if I didn't keep an eye on her. Those fives should fit her a while longer if I can squeeze my Momma-ass into them! Even the sixes aren’t going to fit me like they fit Molly, but they'd probably fit about like my bikini panties. They would cover my front and rear leaving some coverage over my hips. I stand and poke at the diaper turning little circles in front my full length mirror. I take off my top and bra getting one last look at myself in the mirror before jumping in the shower. It would have leaked more if I'd been sitting on it when I wet it. I’m thankful I only trickled a little in the car. I rub the soaked diaper enjoying the change in texture for a moment. I’m not sure how wearing that diaper changed from necessity to fulfilling some dream of Allen’s, or how it turned from dressing up for him to sort of maybe-kind-of-liking-it for myself, but it did. Allen’s mood must be contiguous. My intentions change from feeling the diaper out of curiosity to pleasure, and I don’t hold back. I shake my head smiling at my reflection in my vanity looking like a guilty child with her hand in her pants. Oddly, even with the diaper wet, it was still comfortable to me. Eventually, I decide I look sort of good in it too. With no small amount of regret, I take off the diaper and toss it into our bathroom trashcan. Still smiling and full of impulsiveness, I get in the shower and wash my hair. My mind is in a million places diner, bills, chores, work, Allen, Molly, and strangely that diaper. My thoughts drift from one train of thought to another, though never fully exploring any to the point of making any decisions. I find myself soaping down my pantie area and reaching for my razor. I shave myself smooth trying to remember why I had stopped, laziness I suppose. I have been tidy recently, but I haven’t been bare since before Molly was born. I know Allen will be thrilled. It feels new and fun and playful to be smooth again. I dry off and grab my favorite fleece nightgown. My mind is still buzzing with dozens of unfinished thoughts clouding my ability to concentrate. My gown is red with little white bears all over it. Allen bought it for me for Christmas a few years back. It reminds me of the Christmas Coke commercials. I tug some boy short style panties, my favorite kind, up my legs and head toward our kitchen. My mind is floating as I move around on auto-pilot. Unfortunately, it’s a common thing for me to be wandering around with my mind adrift. Allen and Molly are still in the guest bathroom giving her potty a whirl. I smile and wave at her behind Allen’s back. She smiles and waves back at me. Who knew her diapers would be that comfortable? I didn’t even feel gross after peeing in it! If she’s having bladder problems and the diapers are that comfortable for her too, it’s little wonder we are having trouble potty training her. I muse. Then, I pad barefoot toward the kitchen, but as I pass Molly’s room I’m struck by a brand new desire. My panties suddenly feel too thin. They aren’t making any noise. There is no sense of air pockets moving around as I move. I thoughtlessly draw closer to my daughter's changing table. I want another diaper. They are naughty and fun and comfortable and… I start justify my actions internally. Wait. I don’t have to have a reason! I’m a damn adult. If I want to wear a diaper around my own home, then I can damn well do it! Before I can second guess anything, I find myself sporting a brand new dry Luvs diaper tucked away safely under my boy short panties. I smile like an idiot on my way to the kitchen. I feel like I’m in some sort of trance, like I’m not totally in control of myself. I can’t reason why, but these diapers are making me happy. I damn near skip the rest of the way toward my next objective. In the kitchen, I finally snap out of my haze and find myself able to focus. I mean really focus on preparing dinner. It’s totally crazy. I simultaneously preheat the oven, start some knock off DiGiorno pizzas, and put out drinks for my little family while setting the table. I know I am enjoying my naughty secret, but I'll bet Allen will enjoy it more. I grow more excited by the minute thinking about teasing him until Doodlebug goes to bed. I can hear them leave the bathroom and head to Molly’s room to change for dinner. You’re not the only one sister! I think. They'll be here any minute and my private time with my growing obsession will end. I am very comfortable standing there in my diaper and nightgown. I sort of feel cheated that it won’t stay on without the panties though. It is fine up and moving around, but as soon as I sit the tabs will pop off. I need my own diapers, ones that fit me better. I decide. I'd no sooner come to that conclusion than my husband and daughter come into the kitchen. They are both smiling at me. I show them a warm loving smile in return. I genuinely love my little family. I guess we are pretending that I didn’t just pee myself in the car earlier. K? I shrug turning back to the work of preparing the meal. Allen helps me set the table, while Molly shuffles back and forth carrying anything we let her carry. We aren’t perfect, but we are happy. Suddenly, I realize that I could hear my Doodlebug toddling back and forth in her crisp new diaper. I hadn't even thought to listen to see if I was crinkling too! As turned on as Allen had been, I am fairly confident I’m not scuttling around as loudly as my daughter is. If I was, he'd have been asking to see it again. I’m almost certain of it. ----- The Diapered Story of Robin Smith and Her Unconventional Solutions. 3. I try to put the diaper out of my mind and just continue on with my day. I try, but I can’t quite do it. I decide to blame Allen. Him being in the room with me changes how I feel about the diaper. I feel like I could zone out and forget about it if he wasn’t in here. He is though, so I keep focusing on my diaper creating fun random moments where I feel what I am wearing. Those moments cause goofy smiles. These smiles aren’t timed with the conversation at all. They are timed with the bulk between my legs and the tugs at my hips. I probably look crazy puttering around the kitchen smiling at random unexplainable moments. Fortunately, Allen is focused on Molly and I don’t have to explain myself. Allen whistles something peppy and Molly gets up to dance around. She flitters around my kitchen like a little diapered fairy princess. I decide my happiness must be contagious, that or it’s the diapers! It’s all sort of surreal. Two of the three of us are diapered, but only I know this secret. “Daddy da big twuck laid down.” My three year old told her father sitting down. “That's what mommy said.” Allen. “I felt so bad about it honey. We were close enough to see what happened. It looked awful.” Me. “I know babe. I'm sorry you had to see that.” Allen said patting my hand. “I falled asleep daddy.” Molly. “You fell asleep.” Allen corrected. “She didn't make it long. She left me all alone stuck in traffic and bored to tears. If it wasn't for AC and candy crush, I'd have gone crazy.” Me. “And what about the potty situation?” Allen asked with a smile. Bastard, I project at him mentally. “I didn't make it daddy. I went potty in my sleeps.” Molly. “That's what your diaper is for princes. You'll make it next time. And you went potty in your sleep.” Allen told our daughter with comforting confidence. “We all need some help sometimes baby.” I tell Molly patting her shoulder. *ding* “That's me guys. Let me get our pizzas in.” I tell them standing. I get up doing my best to move normally, but it proves harder than I expect. The small bulk of my toddler's diaper between my thighs alters my gait a bit. I probably look just a tiny bit uncomfortable in the ass area while walking, but in my mind I look like a bow-legged cowboy. Gonna have to remember to practice with that a bit. I think forcing myself to walk normally. A few strides and I’m standing at the oven. My waist is hidden from my family. I put the two pizzas directly on the rack. Mhhhm crispy pizza… As I bend down, my diaper pulls tight and my nightgown rides up my thighs. The diaper is peeking out of the waist band of my panties, but my gown doesn’t ride anywhere near that high for it to be seen. If my husband could see me from the table, he’d likely see the diaper behind the tight thin material of my panties poking out from under my gown. I know he’d be looking if he could! Too bad for Allen. I think and wiggle my ass in the air like a happy puppy. Then for the first time I hear myself crinkle. I break out in a huge smile and can’t hold back the happy giggle. “What's going on in there?” Allen calls from our tiny dining area sounding suspicious. “Nothing.” I call back still laughing. “Sounds like we're missing out on some fun in there.” Allen. “Nah, everything is great. I'm just glad to be home with my family.” Me. I go with a partial truth since I don’t want to talk about the diaper in front of my Doodlebug. I don’t want to admit it, but I want to keep it a secret for myself too, at least for a while. I feel like me wearing a diaper on purpose would be confusing for Molly at this critical potty time. I fail to consider that I have already been caught in one, and that to her perception of things probably wouldn’t be any different. I walk back in the dining area swaying my hips trying to look seductive as possible in a fleece mid-thigh nightgown. Allen’s smile is full of promises for adult fun time with excitement dancing in his eyes. That promise of intimacy lights a fire in my already warm diaper. Shaving had been a terrific idea, and it’s adding to the excitement of my situation. I can feel my entire diaper. It’s feels like taking a Band-Aid off a finger after several days and feeling things directly against your skin again, only in reverse. All that cottony goodness feels delicious. I saunter over to Allen bending to get a big girl kiss from my husband. I can hear myself crinkling and it just ups my thrill level. Too bad I can’t just send Molly to her room. We could get naked in the kitchen if she weren't in here with us. Yeah, I’m that freaking horney now. After I confirm for Allen that naked things are coming with my lips, I sit back down. I take a deep breath to ask Allen about his day and try to focus on something besides my rampant teenage-level hormones when Molly tugs on my sleeve pointing at the coloring books on the table. We keep a twenty-four pack of colored pencils and a stack of coloring books on the kitchen table for just such occasions. Molly talks, but she's not much for conversation, and those colored pencils have saved more than one meal in the last few years. “Hey Doodlebug, let's color Daddy a picture.” Me. “May I have da street one Mommy.” Molly. “Good manners princes, it’s THE street one. Sesame Street.” Allen. “I'll take the Spider-Man one.” Me. Molly just sort of ignores her dad’s verbal guidance reaching for the requested book. We color a few pages while waiting on the pizza to cook. I take my time and color my picture thoroughly. It’s a nice job, if I do say so myself! Coloring has always been therapeutic for. I really relax simply sitting there in my diaper coloring Spider-Man pages with my daughter. “Rob, babe, don't chew on your hair.” Allen chastises me. “I, what.” I blew a raspberry spitting my blonde hair from my mouth. “Jeez, I haven't done that in years.” I stutter softly to myself. *ding* Allen puts a hand up to stop me from getting out of my chair. “You just keep coloring babe. I'll cut up the pizza. You look sort of cute sitting there.” Allen smiles at me. “Yay, Mommy cowors wid me!” Molly. “Colors.” Allen. “Colors.” Molly says concentrating. “With.” Allen. “Wiff.” Molly. Allen shrugs indicting that her last shot was close enough. “Alright, since you're both twisting my arm.” I grin happy to stay seated and finish coloring my page. I knock out the page I started while Allen gets the pizzas out of the oven and plates them. Then, I pick out another page from my super hero coloring book. I’ve always loved superheroes, but it is a causal fandom. I decide to see how black and yellow looks on our friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. Cause… why not? I unconsciously narrow my focus on my coloring. I slip away from all the fuss that usually clouds my head. Full Coverage. Stay between the lines. Even color depth. Light position. Let’s see, I’ll trace the outer edge of the yellows to a darker shade just inside the existing black lines. Yeah, I like that. Really helps the contrast with the black to yellow conversion. Molly and I are coloring so hard that we don’t even notice Allen coming back. He walks up to the table and sits the two cut pizzas down, and grabs our drinks for a refill. When he walks behind me to get to his seat, he reaches down and slides a finger between my cheek and my hair. He pulls gently and I feel my hair tugging from my mouth. Again? Huh, I didn’t even really notice. “Rob, baby, I asked you to keep your hair out of your mouth.” Allen chastises me again with a huge smile on his face. “Sorry, I truthfully didn’t even notice that I had started chewing on it again.” I apologize. “Asked me…” I mumble loud enough to be heard on purpose clearly displaying my displeasure. “Sorry babe. I just don’t want Molly to start that. Apparently, it’s at least a twenty-four year habit.” He tells me tucking my hair behind my ears on both sides of my head. It’s a sweet gesture. I loved him for it for giving me the tender reminder. His hand rests on my shoulder as he looks at Spidey’s new threads. I reach up and put my hand over his trying to push my love through the contact feeling a bit guilty about being pissed. “Cool costume remake. Eat up girls. Friday night is movie night. I’m feeling some like Dory since the second one is out. I haven’t seen it yet.” Allen. “I love Ellen. Such a sweetheart.” Me. “Nemo!” Molly squeals. “Speaking of nemo, when is the last time we did the filter sock? I think the charcoal is due too. Do we have any saltwater mixed up?” I ask Allen. “Yeah, I have like twenty gallons mixed up on your cart.” Allen. “Do you want tank work or dishes?” I ask Allen as I plate some pizza for Molly and me. “Uh… we’ll get the dishes. You fit down there better than I do anyway.” Allen fires away at our long running size joke. ----- The Diapered Story of Robin Smith and Her Unconventional Solutions. 4. Allen’s nearly six and a half feet tall and a bit over two hundred fifty pounds. I likes my men big! Me, I’m pretty average at five foot three. The pediatrician is positive Molly will race after her Daddy’s height, and that I’ll soon be the shortest inhabitant of the house. Frankly, it won’t be as far away as I’d like. I’ll have a giant of a man and an Amazon of a girl around here in about ten years. “Good thing I’m close to the floor! Someone has to clean up after you you great hairy beast!” I giggle. We joke and eat till about seven thirty. Molly is practically yawning at the table. Her normal bedtime is eight. I’m antsy to have her in bed safe behind her door. I’m horney and my diaper needs my husband’s attention. We Smiths are early to rise, it’s just, Allen and I are late to bed and early to rise. When Molly is asleep is the only time we get to be a couple any more. We guard that time jealously. I wonder if we could keep up the eight o’clock bedtime even after we don’t send her to bed at that time. I could make it room time not bedtime… I mean she wouldn’t have to go to bed, just be in her room. I have no idea how successful that will be, but Damn! It’s worth trying! Weekends are the exception. Molly pretty much gets to stay up till she crashes on Friday and Saturday nights. It’s clear she isn’t going to last long today. I yawn and stretch too as I stand. I feel my nightgown lift, and just for fun I bend forward a bit making sure that I’d flash my diaper at the living room. I flush realizing I’m being more than a little bit naughty. Allen and Molly get up to work on the dishes and I head toward the living room to work on our aquarium. It’s a nice custom one-hundred and ten gallon tank I’d made. Allen is pretty handy with wood work so I “let” him help here and there. We had special glass cut for the front panels, and we siliconed our own aquarium together. I had researched for months and planned the whole tank design. It was a bit of an obsession for a while there. I can get like that, you know stuck on something. We talked it through and built both the tank and stand to make water changes and maintenance as easy as possible. So easy I could do it myself, but in the end it is still my tank. They are my fish and coral, and my responsibility. Allen and Molly love watching them, but they’d both rather leave maintenance to me and just enjoy them. Getting to work, I drop the clogged filter sock into an old butter dish and put a new one in the sump. I scrub some algae loose from the sides of the sump and the display tank. The whole time I relish in the not so private pleasure that my hidden diaper is bringing me. Allen and Molly don’t make it back into the living room until after I finish up with the tank which is a clear loss for Allen. I was flashing padded ass cheeks left and right! I sit down on the loveseat with my aquarium directly to my right. Allen comes in with popcorn and Molly is carrying some cans of pop. “Allen, you’re spoiling me!” I tell him lovingly. “There’s no one I’d rather spoil more, except maybe my princess.” He says sitting the popcorn down and hugging Molly. Soda goes right through me. I wonder if he’s figured out my diapered situation? Molly has a little bean bag chair in the rough shape of a recliner. It’s pink and covered in ponies. She pulls it up beside her father's legs. I tuck my feet up under me sitting side saddle facing the TV with the tank on my right, Allen on my left, and the hidden diaper on my butt. It is heaven for me. I pull my fleece gown up a bit so I didn’t feel like I’m trapped in the shirt. Claustrophobia inside one’s own night gown sounds goofy, but wake me up tangled like a burrito and watch me flip the hell out! I purposefully flash him my pantie clad rear end. I bet if he tries hard, he could make out the outline of the diaper in the tight material. The abstract pattern on this pair probably prevents visible edges. I smirk behind my popcorn. It’s thrilling. Sitting here diapered is so innocently naughty, so inappropriately comfortable. I wiggle around excessively trying to get comfortable. I’m purposely filling the air with crinkles. I feel like a kid again excited about the unknown parts of sex with my partner. It’s fucking amazing. This could be addictive… I ponder. Allen just has no reason to look for that sound coming from my rear end despite me being this close to him. Besides, Molly is having trouble being still and clouding the air with diaper noises. One of my true pleasures in life is people watching. Watching them fight sleep is very entertaining too, especially toddlers. She’s wiggling all over the place even shaking her head trying to stay awake. He has no real reason to believe it’s me. Nothing but the sound even connects the noises with my hidden secret. Allen just laughs while watching Molly watch the movie. We’ve seen it a million times, so we mostly “people-watch” her while she watches her favorite parts. Allen gets out his tablet and starts reading some fantasy novel or another. The man reads all the time! I keep wiggling around and smirking behind my drink and popcorn. Once he draws the connection it’ll be obvious like a blinking neon sign, but apparently not until then. I decide to up my flirty game. I stretch out my legs until they are touching Allen. He looks over at me with an inquisitive look on his face. I just smile and rub his thigh with my foot. We aren’t very adventurous in the bedroom, but neither of us were board either. We were just happy, and happy is ok too. Allen reaches down and rubs my sock covered feet. It feels heavenly and I can’t help the little moans that escape my salty lips. Damn, this feels so nice. His strong hands cause me to writhe in happiness, hidden pleasure, and with a touch of pain. Turns out, my feet are knotted up muscle mess and I really needed a message. “Mommy, u k?” Molly askes. “Yeah Doodlebug, mommies feet hurt and Daddy is fixing it. It kind of hurts, but makes me feel better when he’s done. Daddy is super strong.” I explain. My little goofball just looks at us and then uprights herself. She throws her legs over mine with her head in the seat of her chair. She’s totally upside down at this point. I cringe knowing this is going to wake her up a bit. “Daddy fix my feets too.” She asks/demands. “Mommy, I’ve only got one hand. Can I fix Molly’s feet?” Allen. “Of course Daddy will, Molly will probably feel so good she’ll fall asleep.” I tease my inverted yawning daughter. I love a foot rub, the intimate contact, the message itself. It always feels great just because someone cares enough to spend the time on me. I’ll spend the time on Allen later, and he knows it making him an eager participant. After a few minutes I have Molly sit up, “Ok Doodlebug, right yourself. You're showing your panties to God and everyone.” Molly “eeped” in that little girl way and swirls around having been totally ignorant of her exposure. Allen had rubbed her feet for a few minutes and that had relaxed her enough that she’d nearly fallen asleep upside down! Turning around like that will keep her up a few minutes longer, but it couldn’t be avoided. He resumes his one handed mission to turn my feet in the well kneaded butter, it was melting me too! I take whichever foot that he isn’t working on and keep a steady rub on his thigh. I’m craving a different kind of contact, but this will have to do for now. Molly throws a last yawn around the room before simply leaning over and falling asleep. We wait a few moments after her head goes slack in her bean bag recliner, then Allen turns off the movie. I get up slowly so as not to spook her, and clear a path through the toys in her room. Allen follows me into her bedroom after having given me enough time to clean up a bit. He lays our Doodlebug Princess down for the night. We pray over her and sneak out of her room. Closing the bedroom door is always the trickiest part with the highest risk of waking her, but we manage. I head for the living room and Allen makes for the bathroom to get his shower. I’m tip toeing around my house picking up toys, bowls, and popcorn kernels. I hear my crinkling and it just ups my arousal. A bit of a wicked thought strikes me while I’m sitting in the living room by myself. I realize that diapers are going to be a part of my life from here on out, if for nothing else, randomly injecting some fun into our love life. I’d never given them a second thought beyond protecting stuff from Molly’s leaky rear end, but I have now. I commit myself to teasing Allen with my diaper covered ass. I slip my panties down freeing the diaper. I hope this thing will stay on without my panties. God, this feels like the first time I wore lingerie. How weird is that! ----- The Diapered Story of Robin Smith and Her Unconventional Solutions. 5. I sit gingerly down on the couch. My Momma-ass spreads wider than I’d like as I sit. The tape and hook/loop tabs of the child’s diaper dig into my hips as my shape changes. Nothing pops loose, nor do I hear the sound of the hook and loop pulling free. I smile to myself and wiggle my butt a bit against the couch. I'm rewarded with the lovely crinkle that accompanies the cover of my diaper. I also hear a hook or two pop loose as I played, but the tapes don’t come off. I press my hand tightly into my hips reseating the tapes. I end up sitting out there with my panties on the floor in front of the couch wearing only my nightgown and socks. After a few moments, my head clears up and another teasing thought occurs to me. I’ve never been this forward or aggressive with my own desires. My husband is a young virile man. I’ve always been the bottleneck in our love making not the catalyst. Allen is ALWAYS ready. I smile to myself standing up and picking up my panties with my toes. I toss them in my bedroom on the floor in front of the bathroom door. I bait my trap with the best cheese a married mouse has, my vagina! I know I want to wear a better fitting diaper, and I’d be petrified of my sudden crashing desire for them if Allen hadn’t been so turned on by this situation. Instead, I giggle excited like it was my first time walking back to the living room. Something about these diapers appeals to me. Uncharacteristically, I don’t find myself over analyzing things. I realize that my anxious nature seems pacified for the moment, and I try to just relax and enjoy it like Allen is always telling me too. I’m a whole hog kind of girl. Once I decide I’m into something, I do jump in the deep end with gusto. I mean, I seriously have 3D renderings of my aquarium, sump, stand, and cabinetry that we made. Hell, I had to learn Google Sketchup to build and test everything which is a whole different obsession that grew from the simple idea of keeping fish and coral. Holy Crap! If I don’t get a handle on these new impulses I’m going to end up throwing my whole damn pantie drawer away! I’d end up filling my closet drawers with diapers! The thought just causes me to smile and wiggle my ass instead of freaking out and nibbling my finger nails like I normally would have. Running around my living room carefree and diapered is another new liberating experience for me. Allen comes in the living room in his boxers and just stops to stare at me. I’m dancing around to the music in my head and smiling to the world about my unconventional underwear. He sneaks up on me and glues himself to my backside. He’s clearly still excited from seeing me earlier. I feel a flush of heat realizing that I’m standing there in my diaper in front of him, even if he doesn’t know. I can feel the evidence of that excitement even through my padding. Just when I think my level of arousal can’t elevate, he finds a way to do it again. I can’t wait for him to discover my new… packaging. Suddenly, I’m a woman possessed. A wild thing growls out from my throat as I grind backward into my husband. I bend down to the coffee table and start my sexy Pandora station. Allen and my diaper are really pushing all my buttons. I can hear the diaper crinkle with every gyration I make. I swing my hips in time with the beat of the music teasing both of us. I feel like I’m on the edge of every nerve in my body. It’s fantastic. I feel sexy. I feel seductive, and my poor husband doesn’t even know what has overcome my normally docile demeanor. I crack a smile, Diapers are making me more bold. How screwy is that!?! Allen reaches down above my panty line and starts to inch my nightgown up my legs. He continues to wad the fabric up in his hands. I swear the crinkle seem to grow louder every centimeter the gown rises. “Suddenly, I'm all hot Hon. Just take it off me, and let's go to our room.” Me. “Your wish is my command my lady.” Allen carries on playfully. I wiggle out of my less than sexy nightgown as I turn to face him. He pulls the top over my head slowly exposing my breasts, but not the diaper. I’m too close to him for him to see it yet. I pull him into a hungry kiss continuing to distract him. I grind against his leg marveling at his muscular thighs and how they feel beneath the padding on my crotch. “Take me to bed lover.” I purr into his mouth. I think he grunts but I'm not sure. I crawl up him straddling his stomach and locking my legs around his waist. We continue to make out as I cling to him like a baby monkey. We make the night rounds shutting off lights and locking up the house in fits of amorous laughter nor breaking the long kiss. “Get me a water honey.” I growl into his mouth still undetected. Allen redirects us to the kitchen, and I grab a bottle of water as we pass by killing the kitchen lights. Suddenly, one of Allen’s skillet sized hands cups my diapered ass easily encompassing an entire cheek. He presses my pelvis against his fluffy abs, and redoubles his affections on my neck. “Oh my god.” His gravelly voice pours into my ear as he finally comprehends my diapered state. “Same one?” Allen took his turn growling. “Nope. I’m crinkly, dry, and clean.” I manage in return biting at his ear. “You put on a new one for me?” He rumbles. “I think I put it on for both of us.” I admit feeling the blush on my skin from head to toe. Allen’s other hand leaves my back and directly grabs my diaper covered tushie. All the way to the bedroom, Allen runs his hands over my new underwear. He traces every edge he can get to playing with the elastic around my legs and waist. I start to slide down my husband when as enter the bedroom, but I stop when I feel his excitement pressing against my padded kitty. If ever there is a time for a human to purr it is right fucking now! I do my best giving him a human purr against his hairy chest. Allen pulls me back up and kisses my mouth like he had before we got married. If I had any doubts, any at all, that kiss removes them. He’s totally into this! We aren’t a kinky couple, but it seems we’ve have stumbled on something a bit off of center. This whole thing is driving me wild and I’m dripping with excitement. It feels like it’s driving him wild too. We have a thing! I think smiling into Allen’s aggressive kisses. Abruptly, I’m flying through the air. I laugh arching through space grunting on impact. I hit our bed a giggly umph. A fit of laughs assault me as my large husband crawls up the bed between my legs and re-tapes my diaper where it had popped loose. It’s heavenly and I make noises to let him know I approve. Allen rises up on his knees taking in my mostly naked visage. My flushed chest heaves with the rush of excitement. I’m not the teenager I was a few years ago, and seeing that look in his eye is the most flattering thing in the world. I find myself waiting patiently for something. I just don’t know what yet. “Babe, I swear you in this diaper is the hottest thing I have ever seen.” He tells me jumping up from the bed. He grabs his phone from the nightstand where he’d left it while he showered. If Allen has a weird thing, it’s how often the man showers. Meh, we all have something! He smiles at me and nods toward his phone. Allen travels for work occasionally. I have always allowed him to take pictures of me. He keeps them on a password protected website that we both have access too, but I administrate. He’s not supposed to be able to get the pictures off there, but I trust him so I don’t lose sleep over whether he can or not. They aren’t on his phone for his buddies or employees to stumble across, and I can access it and remove the stuff I don’t like or change the password at will which I do frequently. I setup the account so that if he ever leaves me he can’t reset the password. I know he could probably get around the no download settings and save them, but I trusted him enough to marry him so... I tug the sheet across my midsection to cover my tummy. I partially obscure my chest and diaper, but this is my permission to his request to take pictures. He just smiles and starts clicking away. He poses me and snaps pictures until we can’t take it anymore. I guess he’s afraid he’ll never see me this way again and wanted the record the night for his personal time or when he was away. I don’t mind, better me than someone else as his fapping material. It always makes a girl feel powerful to turn her man on. I’d go in and crop my face out of these pictures later anyway, but for right now I get even more excited thinking about him stroking himself looking at these pictures. After what seems like forever, Allen finally touches me. I’ve been in a wanton state for so long that my little diaper is literally damp, but not because of any traffic related accidents this time. I wet this one with anticipation. He puts the phone down and crawls up in the bed to lie beside me. His hands and mouth wander everywhere. I fall in love with the sound and feel of the diaper as he plays with me. The feeling inside my diaper as he runs his fingers along the outside of the leg gathers is amazing! It is the most tantalizing thing I have ever experienced. I feel like a teenager again getting felt up for the very first time. This feeling of renewed sexuality is driving me nuts. “Time to unwrap my pretty princess.” Allen says breathlessly. Then I remember that I have another surprise waiting for him. I’m totally shaven for the first time in like four years. Depending on how he reacts, I intend to stay shaved for a good long while! It feels terrific in my diaper. “Holy Shit! Just when I thought this couldn’t get any better.” Allen looks at me lustfully and amazed. His camera is instantly in his hands again, and he is clicking away at my shaven crotch resting in my opened diaper. My hips involuntarily grind against the open air in excitement. “Take me Allen.” I insist reaching my limit. He leaves the diaper under me and assaults my kitty. After bringing me off a few times orally, Allen takes me with an animal passion. The diaper lies forgotten on the floor by the side of our bed. When we finish and roll over to our backs panting and staring at the ceiling, I decide I rather enjoy the reaction my unconventional underwear sparks in my man. That thought brings a big smile to my face. ----- The Diapered Story of Robin Smith and Her Unconventional Solutions. 6. “You animal. That was perfect. I don’t think I can move.” I say sighing happily.“Yup. *pant* it was *pant* amazing. Thank you so much for wearing that for me. It must have been weird for you, but I really appreciate it. You looked so freaking sexy!”He still thinks I did that for him. He thinks that I wore the diaper because it made him horney. No wonder he took so many pictures. He thinks I'll never wear one again!“Babe, after my shower I was walking past Molly’s room and I sort of followed a pull, and put that other diaper on. You sort of caught me prancing around in it enjoying the feeling of my shaved kitty against the diaper.” I say blushing but confidently.“You mean you wore that for you and not me huh… Well, I guess I’m thankful either way, but why did you want to wear another one?” Allen.“Awe, I don’t know. They were super comfortable. It turned you on a lot. I sort of liked their feel. I felt naughty. I love turning you on.” I tick off on my fingers.“Oh yes it did.” He interrupts trailing his fingers down my side.“I don’t know. I didn’t think of wearing another one until after I finished using the first one.” I blush… again.“What do you mean baby.” Allen says wiggling his eyebrows, the old pet name implying something new between us.“I sort of wanted to see if it could hold, ya know, everything.” I mumble.“Did it?”“Almost, but those are a little small on me. When I get some that fit me better, I don’t think I’ll have that trouble.” I tell him thinking out loud with no leash on my tongue.“When you get bigger ones? This gets to happen again?” He asks in a hushed tone.“I want it to. It drove you nuts, and I was kind of already there. I can’t believe how turned on I was.” I admit.“Was that a four or five?”“We just moved her into the fives. I saw sixes at Walmart though.” I hint.“We need anything else from the store?”“List on the fridge. Whooo… Al, it’s like nine-thirty. Stay in bed.” I exhale totally exhausted.“I'll be back baby.” He chimes entirely ignoring me.“I’ll be right here then. I can’t really move yet anyway.” I yawn.He leaves the room headed for the bathroom. I, however, have trouble relaxing back into my post sex numbness. I feel restless lying there naked, but still too weak to do anything about it. I just can’t get comfortable. Something just doesn’t feel right. A smile creeps across my face. I know what I want. No, not what I want, I know what I need. I wiggle and scoot to the edge of our California king sized bed. I reach down to recover my discarded diaper, but that’s about as far as I get.I let out a breath and sort of fall asleep with my arm hanging off our bed. I don’t mean to. I had meant to put my diaper back on and curl up in the bed. Instead, I hear Allen’s phone click again. I can’t be bothered to care. He smiles at me and my eyes flitter closed again. I feel Allen put the diaper back on me. It seems like it’s easier for him get it on me than it was for me to put it on the first time. I must have stretched it out. My knees stay butterflied open and he pats my thigh standing up. I hear the door close and roll over falling back to sleep. I float halfway awake and sigh into these new unidentified emotions. I crawl my crinkly butt back up to my pillow and stretch my diminutive body out. I fall back to sleep waiting on Allen to get out back from the store. I “eep” dramatically waking up to Allen rolling my hips over and pulling me to the edge of the bed. I look into his eyes. They are still hungry for me. I grind my hips against my padding and decide that I’m getting aroused all over again. I call him to me and he takes me again. We haven’t had sex twice in one night since Molly was born. This time is amazing too, but it’s slower and more caring. My diaper doesn’t survive this go around. He rips it straight off my hips. Thankfully, it rips at the sides and doesn’t spill the inner crumbly stuff everywhere! We make slow happy easy love until we both pass out naked with Allen still inside me. Sometime around three AM, I weasel around our big bed until I my feet hit the floor and head toward my bathroom, nature is screaming at me. At that point a shower was the fastest way to go potty and clean up. I jelly leg out of the shower at half past three AM. I’m dry, freshly shaven (again), and lotioned up. I head back to the bedroom. “All clean?” Allen asks groggily.“Yup.” I smile wearing nothing but the towel on my head.Allen reaches across the bed and grabs a bag of size six Luvs diapers. There is no need to fake my smile, or try to hide how happy I am. I’m sure he'd be able to tell if I tried anyway. I just can’t figure out why I’m reacting this way.He tosses it to me and I fall even more in love with the diapers and my man. Even the dang package crinkles perfectly in my hands. I flush with happiness and anticipation, and a splash of embarrassment. He chuckles heading for another well-deserved shower.I tear open my very own stash of diapers, and can’t be happier to have them. Doodlebug isn’t going to be the only diapered princess around here anymore. I usually sleep in just my panties, but that didn't feel right with the diaper. I fish around and find one of Allen's wife-beater undershirts. I pull it over me for a top. It fits tightly across my moderate bosom. I look around a bit and notice it leaves some killer side boob!I giggle to myself and easily tug his shirt between my legs. I look a bit like I was wearing one of Molly’s snap crotch onesies. I add that to my list of things I suddenly need.Abandoning my playful thoughts, fatigue catches up with me again. I yawn a great big face splitting yawn and fall into bed. I pass out on top of the covers in wonder that he’d run off in the middle of the night for me like that. Allen turns down the air and tucks me under the covers coming after coming out of the bathroom.And that's how I wake up at about six am dying to pee again. I rub my eyes and look at my phone. No point in holding it till eight (when Molly usually wakes up on the weekends), I just decide to get up and go. I’m pretty sure I'll fall back to sleep pretty fast, I’m still pleasantly exhausted.I roll onto my back so I can scoot off my side of the bed. That movement reminds me of my diaper as I slide across the mattress. I smile and immediately and try to relax. I don’t know how much I have to go so I took about fifteen minutes to slowly fill the diaper. Hehehe yay no leaks! Slows the way to go. OMG! I should wear these just so I don’t have to get up three or four times a night!I yawn, stretch, roll to my side and pass back out. My diaper is warm and squishy as I pass out. I love it and sleep reclaims me swiftly. I wake up disoriented because my alarm hadn’t gone off. I’m flat of my back with my knees in the air. Suddenly, there is a rush of cold air against my very warm crotch. Allen is changing my diaper!He notices me looking at him, “Princess Mommy! I figured you could use some help. My shirt looks awesome on you by the way.”“Uh… That was on purpose.” I say pointing at the used diaper beside me.“Figured. On purpose for now huh?” He says patting my newly re-diapered crotch.“I wasn’t planning on wearing another one today.” I admit.“The best laid plans of mice and men oft go awry.” He teases. Allen has to work today, so I roll over happy and dry, maybe feeling a touch confused. He's gone by the time my alarm chirps at me. With Allen at work, I’m in no danger of being discovered by my three year old. I saunter into the kitchen for coffee in just his undershirt and my diaper. Lots of cream and sugar later, I sit on my side of the couch. I tug my legs up and enjoy the first few sips of my coffee. I stare at my fish tank taking my time waking up. This is my “me” time. My hand drifts to my diapered crotch and an evil grin slides across my face.Behind my smile, I ponder my new underwear and my wardrobe. If I wear something tight everyone would know. If I wear something too loose I'll have the sound to contend with.Too bad I don't have any button crotch leotards. I could wear diapers with a skirt or slacks. I could wear jeans, but I hate to do that for work…I can’t believe I’m even thinking about wearing a diaper out of the house!I sit there staring at my fish swimming around and go through my closet in my mind. I have dressed my diapered Doodlebug for the better part of four years, but never paid the slightest bit of attention to hiding her diapers. I suppose there were handicap people everywhere around me wearing them that I haven’t noticed. So, it can be done…Just have to try things till I figure it out. ----- The Diapered Story of Robin Smith and Her Unconventional Solutions. 7. By the time I finish my coffee, I have a choice of clothes firmly in mind. I’ll have to try on a few things to make sure, but I think I have Monday figured out too. That takes care of diapers with casual and work clothes, well if they work!I rinse my number one Mom cup, fill the coffee pot back up with coffee grounds and water, and absentmindedly scratch at my diaper. Stretching, I reach over and set the timer for tomorrow morning. I want to kiss that coffee pot every morning when she greets me with that rich drink of happy morning goodness!God bless you morning happiness fairy!I take my time heading to my bedroom simply enjoying the sound of my diaper crinkling in the silent house. Sitting on the edge of my bed, I comb out my hair. I follow my normal morning routine only I do it diapered.A bit later in my bathroom, I wash my face and brush my teeth still lounging in Allen's shirt. I eventually resin myself to getting on with my day. I pat my diapered butt and head over to my closet.Let’s do this!I reluctantly slip out of his shirt and into my pants suit. I want to see how my work clothes fit first. I’m not super interested in any well-meaning three year old assistance while re-designing my wardrobe around my new diapers, so I want to get this done while Molly is still drooling on her pillow. A few giggles and a stray thought or two hit me. I might actually want to wear a diaper to work. What the hell? I have an office meeting Monday morning I’d forgotten about. At least I could fight off the drowsiness knowing what was under my suit…I’m constantly in business meetings including several video conferences. They happen every day whether I’m in the office or telecommuting. My whole team knows I’m working from home these days, but I still feel compelled to maintain business appropriate dress, so my infrequent trips into work don’t change my daily routine much other than the drive in and out of town. I twist and turn checking my pantsuit from several angles in my dressing mirror. The small diaper doesn’t disrupt the drape of the material. The pants are much better at hiding my diaper than I’d have thought. My perky boobs leave tremendously flattering cleavage staring back at me in the mirror from the confines of my suit jacket. I’ll need a peach onesie to tie this all together. But I still feel sexy as hell.Happy with the suit, I switch into some jean shorts and a tank top taking time to put on a light coating of makeup. I stretch my arms over my head and see the diaper peeking out over the top of my low cut shorts. I tuck in the tank top to prevent accidentally flashing the world. The peek-a-boo my diaper was doing draws my attention again to onesies and their practicality. It’s finally time to get Molly rolling. I repeat much of my prep time on her, minus the coffee and makeup! I dress her in her onesie and a skirt, because that's what I'd rather be wearing! I make mental notes on how easy that would be to change my own diaper.“Where’s Daddy?” Molly asks me.“He had to work a bit today. He’ll be home around lunch Molls.”“K, Can I has a poptart Mommy?”“Yeah, orange juice or apple?”“Apple.” She asserts.I make some toast and slather some strawberry jam to go with a glass of orange juice. I take Molly a piece of toast and jam with her poptart. Her tummy is legendarily fickle. Molly isn’t fully woken up yet and sort of spaces out while eating her poptart. I want to grab a couple of leotards today. It’d be ungrateful to be mad at Allen, but I wish he’d have gotten the Wal-mart list last night. It seems he only got the one “vital” thing. I giggle. I need to run by PetSmart for some fish food too.I continue to plan a morning of running errands and scheduling the stops where I won’t lose Molly’s attention. She’s a great kid, but if she gets tired and board… Well, she can get pretty whiney. That’s not my favorite version of Molly to run around town with! We finish up breakfast and clean up after ourselves. Molly seems set on a real effort at “big girl” today. She brings me all the dishes and insists on helping me rinse them and put them in the dishwasher. Molly skips and sings lyrics from Frozen while we finish up.Cute little thing! These are the kinds of mornings you remember your whole life. I feel a twinge in my bladder. My coffee is making its way through me already. Coffee and soda have always had a fast track through my bladder, but it’s been worse since Molly was born.“Doodlebug, why don’t we set you up some TV? Mommy’s gotta potty.” I tell her in third person.Why do we do that? I think deciding I need to invest some pronouns on Molly’s education. [Me] Need anything not on the list? Molls and I are hitting the stores. You may beat us home. I text Allen leaving Molly with Frozen playing while I took off for the bathroom. I don’t expect a return text. Allen will be working hard to finish working so he can get home to us. I realize that I’m headed to the bathroom while wearing one. It’s a more than a little ironic and I laugh at myself. I freeze in the middle of my bedroom. I work to relax my bladder giving my body permission to relieve itself. Which, as it turns out, is super hard to do. I go a bit but can’t fully release. Making my way to Molly’s bedroom, I allow dribbles out between my stepw. I pack her diaper a bag and head back toward the living room. The diaper is quiet enough in the jean shorts that I don’t notice my own sounds. I approach the living room and pause. Should I wear one to the store? God, I can’t believe I was about to leave the house in a wet diaper. I put off the decision and yell at Molly that I have her bag packed and am heading to the bathroom. She’s snuggled up to Olaf on the couch watching her movie and yells back an “ok” at me. Standing in front of my mirror, I shuck my jean shorts and stare at myself in my tank top and diaper. I can see the number six proudly telling the world that it’s mine. The diaper is tight, but I can fit in a baby diaper! These don’t seem near as apt to pop loose either, but they don’t offer full butt cheek coverage, so that’s a minus. On an impulse, I stick my thumb in my mouth, but that immediately feels wrong. I yank it out and wipe it off almost violently. I pose sexily in front of the mirror feeling much more natural in my skin with the thumb out of my mouth. Nope, that’s not for me for sure. I adore how this feels, even soggy. But, I don’t want to sit around with my thumb in my mouth like Molls does. I’m a big girl. I don’t think about it anymore. I untape the diaper and throw it in the bathroom trash the mood being slightly spoiled with my thumb experiment. I squirt some air freshener directly into the trashcan and finish my business in the toilet. Back in my bedroom, I slide a yellow pair of boyshort panties up my legs with a winking smiley face settling on my butt.I pull my shorts back up my legs ready to start my day. Dressed like an adult, I approach my daughter in the living room. I shove my cell phone in my back pocket and grab my purse shouldering Molly’s bag. Entering the living room, I have a sudden change of heart and race off to Molls room to change out her bag. She can be a big girl too. It’s time she starts hauling her own crap around. I’m no pack mule! Plus, she needs some more dignity. I stuff a skirt, some wipes, and a couple size fives in the tiny backpack I’d bought her. It looks like a tiny pink canvas hiking backpack, suitability girly and less childlike. In fact, I bought it because it looks a lot like my business laptop bag. “Here you are Doodlebug. Mommy, er… I mean ‘I’ packed your bag so you can carry it like M… er ‘I’ carry my purse!” I tell her excitedly tripping over my new resolution to introduce some pronouns.“K Mommy! Mowwy wubs it!” I can almost hear Allen correcting her. Nope, I’m not going to do it. She’s too cute. She doesn’t ever need to grow up! Lord knows she’ll never have a sibling! I don’t suffer from the labor amnesia like some women do, and the changes in my body are to pronounced to risk it again. Molly trundles over to me and I slip the backpack over her arms cinching up the straps sizing it to her little back. Molly sways a bit as she adjusts to the weight. She looks like she’s headed out for a super cute hike. I smile widely appreciating my daughter. I’m just happy she’s mine and it makes my heart melt. I snatch her up, backpack and all, cradling her little diapered butt on my arm hugging the life out of her. I kiss her all over her face tickling her with my bangs.“Stop Mommy! It tickles!” “Never!” “Mommy!” “Muah, Muah, Muah” “Mommy! I’m gonna pee!” “Muah”“Mom….eee”“One too many tickly kisses huh? Someone’s butt is warm!”“Meeee!”“No worries Doodlebug. That’s what your diapers are for honey.” That’s what He said! I quip internally thinking of Allen.“I know.” “Let’s get you all cleaned up Molls.” I sit her down and take her hand. We head to Molly’s room for a quick dry-butt. Molly is flat of her back and I’m tugging her new diaper up between her legs when my own crotch feels the absence of a diaper. A sudden charge of jealousy rushes through me. So, I finish her change quickly and we finally make our way out of the house.Holy Shit! What the hell was that!“Molly, baby. Today we have several stops to make ok? The last one is the pet store though. You can see the kitties! Well, you can see them if you’re a good girl for Mom… eh, me.” “Kitties! Me want the Kitties!”I get her buckled in the car and we make our way to the mall. It’s the first time I have been back in my car since I wet Molly’s diaper. I certainly feel its absence the jealousy lingering despite my wishes. Molly talks about kitties all the way to the store. I wish Allen wasn’t allergic. Molly would take such good care of cat. She’d be a terrific kitty mommy!I change my mind and we make our way to Walmart first. I grab some supplies for Molly and some things for the house. In the pharmacy area, I grab some new eye liner and get Allen his sport scented spray deodorant. I have crossed everything off the house list that isn’t food except pads. I always wear a pad these days. My tiny bladder just ain’t what she used ta be, not after Molly. I have my hand on one of Playtex’s assorted boxes when I see Poise Maximum Absorbency Incontinence Pads. My hand shakily moves toward the package. I didn’t think of that. I can get away with these can’t I? I giggle to myself.I pick up the package and then reach back down to grab another. I decided that these could do for work and everyday life. Even if I am caught wearing them, I’m expected to be! I’m about to leave when my eye catches something right there next to those pads. I see the Depends Maximum Overnight Protection. My bottom lip tucks between my teeth. I bite down working it nervously. My palms turn clammy and my heart races. I feel drawn to them. “Mommy. Da mobies stopped.” Molly says jolting me from the stupor.I reach out and take my phone reloading YouTube Kids. I literally shake my head trying to free myself of the gravitational pull of that ridiculous green package. It won’t be denied though. My eyes move of their own accord. With Molly distracted, my hands move rotating my shoulders. I grasp the small size and rotate the bag. The waist size seems ok. They feel amazing. The bag itself feels like a diaper within a diaper. It has an amazing rubbery plastic feel and a marvelous sound. I feel drawn to it like a starving survivor to a juicy cooked steak. I re-arrange the cart hiding the diapers around between the boxes of pads. We grab several things and cover the contents of the cart. I haven’t found the courage to walk out with my head high and proud holding a package of diapers. Nope, not yet. We make our way to the check out and then to the car while I try not to die of embarrassment. I load up the trunk swapping out my stash of car pads in the console and my purse with my new ones. We drive to our next stop, the mall! Molly and I make our way to the family bathroom where I change her and she stands in the stall with me facing the door watching YouTube on my phone. I grab on of the incontinence pads and swap it out with the lightly damp thin panty liner that I have on. I poke at the pad and notice that it’s slightly longer than the back of my panties. I adjust the pad forward so that it won’t make any unplanned appearances while we are shopping. I tug up my shorts and freshly lined panties. God, this feels just like my diaper only with better sides. I wonder if I can use these like a diaper?I wiggle my butt and stand and sit a few times.Good, I can’t hear these any more than my Luvs. “Mommy, zat a diaper?” “No Molls. It’s a pad for grown up girls.” “K”Molly thought she had me cornered, but when I denied that the pads are diapers she believed me and lost interest quickly. Staring at the phone, Molly froze for a moment.My baby just peed I’ll bet.I reach down and check her formerly fresh diaper finding it slightly squishy.“Sorry Mommy.” Molly says sniffling. “That’s what they’re for Princess.” I tell her ruffling her hair. We make our way to the sink where we wash our hands. Then I stand her on sink to freshen up my makeup and let her play in the mirror a bit. Feeling fully “put together”, I wet my hands and tame Molly’s fuzzy thin hair. Hand in hand we make our way to Claire’s.“Mommy! Mommy! Can I has dis?”“May I have this?” I correct.“May I has dis.” She tries. “Give it here. Let me see it.” The cute knit hat has some wireframe kitty ears covered in plastic gems. The little hat is amazingly adorable. I cave because it’s cute and we really are here to distract Molly for a bit. I let her wear it around the store with the tag hanging off. Molly just holds things up meowing at me the rest of the time in Claire’s. She has me cracking up by the time we leave. “Next stop is JCPenny Molls. Mommy needs some new shirts like yours.” God! Why am I so excited to about this shit? This pad is bigger than my diaper was. I shimmy my hips playing with the humongous pad between them while walking through the mall holding Molly’s hand. ----- The Diapered Story of Robin Smith and Her Unconventional Solutions. 8. I change Molly at JCPenny before we start shopping, she had clearly wet several times.Look Molls, I get it. They are comfortable. It’s hard for you. If kids wouldn’t make fun of you, I wouldn’t even ask you to worry about using the potty baby. I’m sorry. I really do believe it’s best for you in the long run. Mommy knows it’s hard to make it when your body doesn’t cooperate. “Listen Molls. Are you listening?” “Yeah Mommy.”“Baby, you have to try and use the potty. It’s an important part of growing up to be a big girl. Do you understand?”“Mommy, you said dats what der for?” She asks me. “I know, baby. It’s… well, that is what they are for. If you have an accident, it’s ok. Maybe just tell Momm… I mean me if you have an accident. Tell me. Accidents are ok. You can’t stop those.”“I jus happens. Poof and potty in my pants.” Her arms gesticulate.“And that’s fine baby, your right. That’s what your diapers are for. Just tell me when it happens so I know, and don’t use your diapers if you can find a potty. Ok?”“OK.” Molly says defeated. “I don’t like da potty.” She mutters under her breath. Why do I feel dirty? I know it’s important for her. Gah! Being the Mom sucks sometimes!I grab a cart and pick Molls up putting her in the child’s seat. She’s engrossed in my phone while I wander the isles. I need some leotards, the snap crotch ones specifically, but the labels call them bodysuits now.Whatever, they’re onesies! I think reading a tag on a top.“Look Mommy, el-la-lants is weally stwong!” She points at the video about elephants she’s watching.“El-ah-phants” I articulate. We aren’t hurting for money, but I grew up frugal and I always will be. I browse for sales eyeballing cute tops while we make our first pass in the store. There are several designs with various necklines and some with lace around the collar. I move back through all the tops. My eyes land on my new favorite top. I fall in love immediately. It is a blue velvet bodysuit by Arizona with several lacey strings crossing over the cleavage creating a beautiful design. I drape one over the cart along with a few others, including a set of five plain white ones from the underwear section. We head off to the dressing rooms so I can try on these new onesies. The closer we get, the more excited I find myself. Raising Molly is full of Awe inspiring moments, but I’ve been through some stuff college, falling in love, getting married, buying a house, working in marketing, being a stay at home mom, and a part time mom/work from home employee. I’m sure I still have a lot of experiences left to discover in life, but everything about my diapers seems to be thrilling me in new and exciting ways. It’s a bit like re-experiencing my own life with a new filter on the movie, like re-watching black and white memories in full technicolor.Even this simple act of trying on adult clothing that functions the same as Molly’s toddler clothes is exciting me. I hurry into a stall closing and locking the door. I check the bench for lingering push pins and sit Molly down starting a game on my phone. I try on the peach onesie I got for work Monday. Ok. Cool. It fits. Let’s button this thing up. Huh, I can feel the snaps. Don’t like that. You will be wearing a diaper there’s no way you will be able to feel them then. Oh yeah!God, the cut on these are different than Molls. Sexier. Thinner in the crotch. Higher in the hips. I hope the velvet one fits better. My diaper will hang out all over in this one.I run my hands over the crotch of the shirt protected from my smooth skin by a layer of yellow smiley faced hipster panties and a thin pad. I can feel the ridges in my finger print bumping over the ribbed material of the top through the panties on my shaved crotch. OMG! That’s so erotic. Even covered in two layers of fabric and a thick pad, I feel naked to the touch. This is fucking amazing. I can’t wait to feel my diaper pressed in tightly with these. Ok, God please let this fit. I thought grabbing my favorite velvet top.I try on the top. The snaps hit a little further forward than the peach one. It’s far more comfortable than the first one I’d tired on. It comes down over my hips following my hipster panty line pretty closely. I spin in the mirror adjusting the straps on the top tying the fanciest bow I could manage leaving the string hanging low over my boobs.I love it when my favorite is the best. My girls look amazing in this. I push them together, pull them apart, and lift them high and low. Who doesn’t love a top that looks this good no matter where my boobs roam off to! This may be my favorite top in my whole closet! My God this velvet feels so good.Wonder how it’d feel without a bra? I file that thought away for later.I decide to wear the top out leaving the tags on it. I’d never reacted badly to new clothes, so I wasn’t concerned about wearing it out of the shop. The cashier smiles at me scanning the tags under my arm along with the rest of my clothes. She can tell I was in love with the top and compliments me on how it looks on me while asking my “kitty” tons of cat questions. Turns out Molly likes the taste of field mice the best… HA!I’m very much excited to get home. I look down at my watch seeing it is now about eleven twenty. We head to the car with our bags of goodies hand in hand. Molly looks so grown up. My tall little Doodlebug looks twice her age with her height and the backpack, like a grade schooler off to conquer the world. How tall will my little amazon be when she’s really eight, thirteen, twenty? “I love you Doodlebug.” I sniff.“Whaz wrong Mommy?”“Nothing Molls. I was just thinking you look like a beautiful big girl instead of my tiny baby girl.” “Yup. Imma big girl”“Gettin there huh?” I chuckle ruffling her hair. “Mommy I’m wet K?” “Did you have an accident? Let me see how bad.” “You’ll make it till we get home.” “It was a hack-sa-dent Mommy. I didn’t know till I was goin.”I need to pee too Doodlebug. Should I? Allen won’t care, even if I make a mess. Can these pads really hold up?We leave the mall and head for AquaWorlds, our local fish store. I promised Molly kitties. I’ll have to take her to PetSmart on the way home. I resign myself to two more stops instead of one. PetSmart doesn’t have the saltwater fish food that I need though. I’m always forgetting that. The aquarium care stuff is cheaper there, but I only need the saltwater shrimp for feeding the tank today.Well, honestly. The second stop at PetSmart would keep me from buying anything at AquaWorlds. Hey! If you don’t keep fish, you can’t understand how hard it is to walk out without a new fish, coral, or piece of equipment!Inside AquaWorlds, I prowl through their coral frags and make my way to the refrigerated shelves. I deny the impulse to add some new coral to my tank and just get the frozen shrimp. I pay for my purchases and we make our way toward the house stopping only for a few minutes for Molly to poke the adoptable kitties through their cages. She gabs on about the kitties all the way home. Pulling up at the house, I see Allen’s truck, he has beaten us home. Getting out, I finally stop to check my phone. I’d missed a couple texts from him. They aren’t anything important though, so I text him we are home and could use his help.Opps. I’ve been known to get pissed at him for that move.Standing up, I begin emptying my bladder into my inco-pad. I certainly don’t mean to. It’s one of the things I contend with now. This is the reason my panties are always lined. Instead of standing there concentrating on flexing all my muscles until I regain control, I boldly take a step forward around Molly’s open car door ignoring my leaking lady bits. Reaching my leg out for the next step releases a big spurt of pee. The small squirt and pinch move I usually pull in these situations isn’t working. Frankly, I didn’t want it to. I hold back enough that I don’t flood the pad, but every step and flex releases some tiny bit of urine. It actually feels really good not to have to worry about standing in my yard in wet shorts because of the pad. This is one of the little gifts Molly’s trip through my body left me, and it’s one of the reasons I don’t have labor amnesia like some women. I have constant biological reminders of the cost of motherhood. I don’t see as well and had to get glasses! On a positive note, I haven’t had the period-migraines since I had Molly, and I’d had them since puberty started a decade ago. That is sort of amazing to be honest.Pregnancy is still a miraculous thing. My doctor told me that pregnancy doesn’t cause these changes like the eye sight and migraine stuff, not medically. Then he went on to tell me dozens of stories about body adjustments that some of his patients had gone through after pregnancy, some temporary and some, like me, permanent. Peeing myself when I don’t feel like I have to go, just because I decide to change my personal elevation, that seems a bit extreme to me. It happens to me nonetheless. I feel the texture of my pad changing from fibrous to jelly between my legs. I decide to let my body evacuate whatever it feels like is necessary, but try to keep a heavy wetting out of the picture. I force myself not to fight the piddles. It’s a word I coined for myself. It’s what I call these little wetting episodes that just really fucking brighten my day. Ever hear of the walking farts? Well, I have the walking piddles. I take Molly’s hand and lead her, wearing her backpack diaper bag, into the house with the frozen food from the local fish store. I finally stop the piddling and plunk her down on the couch with my phone. Allen comes out of our bedroom at about the same time. I shake my head at the small fortune we spend on water for his showers.“Hi girls! Did you have a good time shopping?” Allen asks kissing my neck. “We did, huh Molls?” I ask looking at her over my shoulder.“Yup, Meow” “Did you get a kitten while you were out Mommy?” “I did! Isn’t she great!?!”“She’s not house broken though.” I whisper loudly giving her a hard time.“Moom eeee!” Molly whines like a teenager. “Wow, learn that move early don’t you girls?” Allen asks me.“The Sass is Strong in this one.” I nod sagely.“You dropping Star Wars puns is hot.” Allen says causing me to blush. Allen pats my butt while our kid is fully engrossed in an episode of SpongeBob on my phone. She’s safely distracted so we can run in and out of the house. He kisses my ear. I sigh happy and turn resting on his chest. Then I straighten up and smack his chest. “Is anyone wet today?” “Allen! Seriously!” I shout exasperated. “I un know.” Molly slurs together.“How bout Mommy? Was she a good girl? Did she keep her diaper dry?” “I did no such thing you turd!” I huff walking toward the door embarrassed to my core.“I had a hack-sa-dent Daddy. Mommy used da potty like a big giwl. She buied big giwl diapers.” “I bought Pads Molly. Pads.” I say forgetting the Depends I’d picked up altogether.“Oh relax honey. It’s ok. I love my girls whether they are wet or dry!” Allen teases.“Stay put Molly. Daddy and I will be right back. We’re just going to the car to get our stuff.” I say dragging Allen outside.“Don’t be mad baby.” Allen pleads sensing my mood.Sigh “I’m not mad Allen, well maybe a little. What we do in the bedroom doesn’t have anything to do with Molly’s little reality. Plus, you don’t go embarrassing me anymore.” I fix him with my don’t-push-mom look. “To be perfectly clear, that’s not a request. It’s an expectation. This is for me and you and no one else. I’m a lady regardless of my clothing choices, and I won’t be belittled!” “Robin, baby, I’m really sorry. I was just playing. I wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings. It was stupid and I’m really sorry.”I let him stew in his own remorse just to reinforce the point I’m making. I may not do a lot of off-center stuff in the bedroom, but come on Internet. I know, at least on the surface, what a submissive is. I am not one of those. I may be meek and a bit humble, but I’m no one’s floor matt. No offense to those who get off on that, but that ain’t me boy-o. I think and throw an angry eyebrow at Allen. I grab my shirts filling up my arms and head back into the house. ----- The Diapered Story of Robin Smith and Her Unconventional Solutions. 9. Dumping my clothes on the bed, I begin sorting out my new tops by color. I drop the white ones in my whites laundry basket, and the colors I decide to wash individually with a couple older towels each on tiny load settings. No sense in lettings these fade over something I already own.I make several mini-laundry piles and lug them into the laundry room. I decide to start the whites with some bleach first. The water begins filling while I add the bleach, but I discover a problem when I bend over to grab the white load. Apparently, I still need to pee quite a bit. I decide to put these pads to the test.No better room than the only one with a floor drain!I take a wide legged stance and relax my bladder, or try to. I fail. It’s not so much a factor of permission, but a matter of forcing muscles that I don’t EVER think about to open. I guess that’s the thing though. Maybe being flexed shut is the relaxed state for those bladder control muscles. If that’s the case, it’s a bit like doing a bladder pushup! I make a mental note to look that up. Interesting theory. I decide It’s really a mind over matter type thing. I envision a Sci-Fi type scene of casting my consciousness down the nerve synapsis to the bundles controlling my bladder. With the piddles always on the horizon, I have perhaps a stronger connection to my troubled bladder muscles than most people do. I envision my bladder as a hand tightly clasped holding something in.I lean forward bracing myself on the washing machine angling my body in a new way while trying to tug those mental fingers loose. I finally feel my control loosen and I begin to wet the incontinence pad. Suddenly, I’m releasing a full wetting onto the pad, but it’s like the pad doesn’t even try keep up.My hipster panties plus this type of pad don’t make a good pairing. The pad itself stays in a circular shape instead of flattening out gathering correctly. Apparently, I need some full on tighty-whitey granny panties. I don’t know if it fails because of being a crappy product, or because I wasn’t wearing correctly either way the pad definitely fails. I feel the pee trailing down my leg and “eep” shocked back into action. I shuck my tennis shoes and strip my socks off tossing them in the washing machine with the whites. I stand over the drain as my body finishes the business I started not having any options.Sadly, I strip out of my new favorite top that’s now soggy in the crotched. I rinse it in the utility sink and drop some water over the floor using a towel to clean up my mess. When Allen finds me a few moments later, I’m still standing there in my yellow smiley assed panties with a totally soggy incontinence pad soaked so badly it looks like it just phoned in the effort, I mean come on! “Hey Babe. Ooo, Boobs!” Allen says taking a good thirty seconds or so to notice anything else.“Shit.” I grumble when he eventually looks down.“Everything ok over there Princess?”“Awesome…” I threw him a you’re-a-dumbass eyebrow. He waves his hands, “Alright I give!” “Do you need any help Rob?”“I rinsed my top and threw my socks ‘n shoes in the whites.” I say pointing at the washer. “So what happened here? An accident?”“No… an experiment. A failed one.” “What didn’t work?”“Well, I got a new heavy wetting pad to see if I could sort of wear a diaper, but not really.”“Ok”“I piddled a lot when I got out of the car, you know… like I do.”“That’s what your pads are for baby. I really don’t care that you dribble.” “I know. I love you for it too.” I say meaning it while straddling the drain in the laundry room.“I thought this was the safest place to test em.” “I’d have went with the shower…”“Well, damn. I had to go and NOT think of that.” I admit a bit defeated.“Meh, no worries looks like you already cleaned it up.” “I was just going to strip and shower really fast. I’ll wash these panties with one of these loads.” “I’ll take care of that. You just flash me those gorgeous butt cheeks and scoot out of here.”“Allen, you don’t have to. I’m not some kid.”“Well, you certainly are playing at it.” He smirks.“Wipe that look off your face or I’ll kick your ass.”“Ma’am, Yes Ma’am.” He salutes.“God you’re impossible.” I say stripping. “Nah, I’m amazing. I clean up after wet girls around here all the time.”“A wet toddler maybe…”“Nope, I washed your wet stuff yesterday too.” “I… Oh… I… I was going to do that. You didn’t have to.” “Well, I don’t get off on handling your pee or anything, but your accidents don’t repulse me either. You certainly never will!”“Fine, you can be out of the dog house.” I tell him turning to him naked as the day I was born.“I’m going to shower. Did you get the rest of the stuff out of the car?” “Yep. On the counter.” “Will you run a kitchen wipe with bleach on the floor between here and the washer?” “Already planned to. I’ll put the rest of the bags on the bed.”“You can return or throw away those bags of pads. Even if I could figure it out, I’ll never trust them now.”“Done. I’ll just toss em. Not worth the gas or my time to take ‘em back. We should stick them all over something and then take a funny picture.” He jokes. “We’ll do no such thing. My totally manageable leaky issue and my new found love of thick underwear is no one’s business but ours mister!” I say getting a little heated again.“Sorry, not what I meant. Just thinking of that kid from AFV covered in pads the other day.”“Nope. Trash or take back. That’s your options. No negotiation.” “Trash it is!” I leave the laundry room running on my tip toes like a spooked deer. I’m genuinely upset that the pads didn’t work and that my new favorite top is in the laundry room in the sink. I totally stomp off to the bathroom pissed the hell off, just not at Allen, this time!I take my time cleaning myself and lotioning up my skin. When I get out of the shower I fix my hair and do a light coating of makeup. I feel the need to look my best for Allen after him seeing me in the laundry, all boobs out and wet panties. That’s not the look I want to foster! I paint my nails and toe nails too. By the time I’m done, I look like I’m ready to go dancing or for a night out doing something young and fun. Perfect, I think looking in my mirror. This is exactly the level of nice that I’m looking for! I look around in my Tee-Shirt drawer for something cute that will go with my nails. I find a purple My Little Pony shirt that I bought to match one Molly just had to have a few months ago.I feel like a cute day! I can be cute and sexy too. I love it. Ooo, I’ll put my hair up too!I tease my hair into a cute dangling updo with floppy bangs. It feels summery, light, and cute. I scratch at my chest and cup my breasts. I let them fall back to their resting position and smile at myself. It was a hard fight back to this shape after Molly, and I’m a bit proud despite a little remaining pudge. Naked below my shirt, I sit on my bed trying to decide what my bottom half should look like for the rest of the day. I know I want to wear a diaper. So there’s that. I guess I need to decide what I can wear with this top that will help me hide my diaper. I pilfer through my closet and the bottom drawer in my dresser. I sit out a few pieces, but struggle making up my mind. I rest my hand on my hip cocking it out to the side while I stare at my bed. My door pops open startling me. “Ahhh!” “Shhh… It’s just me baby.” “Damn honey. Scared the shit out of me.” I say resting a hand over my throbbing heart.“Didn’t mean to.” “I’m ok now.” I smile at him half naked. “You look amazing.” He smiles at me lecherously. I turn fully to him displaying my fuzz free goodies. Allen smiles the sight. I sashay over to him wiggling my hips as I walk. He stands there mesmerized by my movements. “Hey babe. I can’t decide what to wear over my diaper.” I tease.“I’m ok with nothing!” He gets a well-deserved really eye for that, but knowing him he probably thought it was worth it. “Allen…” “Bah fine. You know I wasn’t serious. I just hate to cover you up. I could stare at you all day.” “Well, we decided to have a child so… no day long ass staring for you.”“I like the new packaging anyway. Speaking of. May I?”“Please.” I giggle and move the baggy overalls I set out further up the bed. Allen takes my ankles and tugs me closer to the edge of the bed. I close my eyes to focus on the feelings. This isn’t the first time my husband has diapered me, today even, but this is the first time I am awake enough to focus on it, to enjoy it. He spreads my legs at the knees leaving then laying open like butterfly wings. My shaven kitty stares up at Allen, and I feel the air caressing my delicate places. His hands trace up my ankles gliding up the insides of my legs. They spread outward at my hips reaching under me to cup my ass tracing the back of my legs pulling them together. I moisten enjoying the luxurious feeling of Allen’s rough hands on my skin. He raises me off the bed far enough to slide a diaper under me. Immediately, I feel that this diaper is bigger than I expected. I resist the urge to open my eyes enjoying the sensory deprivation. May have to add a blindfold to the naughty drawer! ----- The Diapered Story of Robin Smith and Her Unconventional Solutions. 10. Allen fits up my diaper tugging it around to center it. This one’s incredibly crinkly. I focus my ears listening to every noise it produces. Finally, he tugs on my diaper pulling it down to the right level on my butt. I feel the diaper gathers tugging at the creases between my ass and legs as Allen pulls the diaper up. He lays the front of the diaper over my crotch and I know it’s not one of my Luvs. Struggling to keep my eyes closed, Allen cups my crotch to see where the front waist will lay. His hand shifts to my waist holding the diaper in the center. My man’s a diapering professional… mhmmmm He tucks the left front side in around my hip and tugs the back over the front panel. Allen abandons his hold on the middle of my waist, and tugs the front side for a tighter fit. He repeats the process on the other side completing the fitting. I wiggle my ass in this larger diaper enjoying the feeling of a properly sized one. It tugs and pulls in the directions of the tapes and across my waist. It feels amazingly tight and secure. I pinch my legs together bunching the diaper up between them. It crinkles seductively as I move my legs like a cricket. Allen parts my legs and lies lightly on top of me. He kisses my heart up into my throat. I drape my arms around his neck and peck his cheek. “Babe, Molly.” I say pushing him up smacking at his chest and standing up. “What am I wearing?” I ask looking down at my fully diapered ass. “I don’t know, I didn’t look. They were in the bag with your trash pads.” “Oh, I forgot I bought those. I was too pissed at the pads. I thought you’d bought me something.”“Bawahahaha!” Allen laughs. “What’s so funny?”“You said pissed at your pads that you just peed in.” “Oh pissed, I didn’t mean that as a joke. I get it.” “Oh crap… still funny though.” “Hey before you go… what bottoms?”“Uh…” He stalls looking his options over. “Oh! The overalls for sure. No doubt.” Allen takes off for the living room to check on our little Phone Zombie. I stand up and run to the full length mirror in the closet. I spin, turn, jump, bend, and gaze at myself in the mirror. I feel awesome. I feel sexy and desirable, and I feel fucking silly. I shrug off the silly and just go with happy. I tug the overalls up and clip the bibs in place. I check myself in the mirror again. I haven’t purposefully dressed cute in a good long while. I have to actually work at looking my age. An older looking girl stares back at me in the mirror. She’s a cute girl, maybe in her late. She sure doesn’t look like a mid-twenties mother! I giggle behind my hand and clap. I jump a few times feeling my bouncy bangs dance around my face. I laugh and bend over touching my toes. I can hear the diaper crinkling away loudly. It’s not as prolific as it was before I put on the overalls, but I can hear it more than I’m comfortable with. Oh, I love how this feels. God, my hips are getting a clammy already though. Gonna have to fix that. I head toward the door pondering the clammy heat around my waist and notice the noise the diaper is making is beyond my tolerance. Yeah, nope… not running around crinkling this much. Hmmm… What to do? I think tapping my chin. I go back to the laundry room inspired. I pull one of my new tops off of a pile of laundry. Pulling a baby blue onesie over my head thrills me. The cut of the onesie leaves it poking out around the collar of my shirt with the overalls, in turn, covering up the decal on pony shirt. Ultimately, I decide to peel off the pony shirt throwing in the load I’d pulled the blue onesie from after fastening up my overalls. I make my way back toward my bedroom having spent a totally conspicuous amount of time by myself at this point. I feel like I need to hurry and get out there with my family but walking by Molly’s room, I catch a whiff of baby powder and ammonia. The smell of pee is there, but faint. The biggest smell is the baby powder. I tip-toe in there and grab one of her many containers of baby powder. Back in my room, I slide my overalls down my ankles and unbutton my snap crotch pulling it up under my chin. I poof out some powder into my hand lightly coating powder around my own hips. Oh, now that’s better. Seems to be breathing fine where the padding is heavy… weird! Better run my hand around my belly too. Nice! This is… OMG! I can’t believe how good it feels to wear a diaper that really fits me! Hell, this may even be a bit too big. Better poof my pussy too! I button my blue onesie wishing I hadn’t gotten the whites load going first. I could have worn the pony shirt. I don’t like the blue with my purple nails, but the Pony top worked great with them. I pull up my overalls and button the bib leaving my feet bare. Girl’s gotta show off dem toes! I laugh at myself wiggling them in the carpet. I really stare at myself in my mirror getting ready to leave my room. I see a toned seventeen year old version of myself staring back. The baggy overalls and the updo really bring down my age. My loud purple eyeshadow also shaves off another year or two. I love the dangling brown curls framing my face. My dark eyes look a little moody and mysterious with the darker eyeshadow. I look like an Emo teenager trying to dress like a little girl… I giggle at my image. It’s ironic that in reality, I’m a twenty-four year old mother who looks like a teenage lady trying to dress like a twelve year old girl. Even given the visual Mobius strip I’m creating, I feel as sexy as hell. It is very odd to look in the mirror at the image I cut, and yet feel as sexy as a nearly naked cat girl on Halloween! I trust-fall onto my bed and roll around a little bit. The noise from the Depends is considerably lessoned with my onesie. With the TV on, or any background noise at all, the crinkle will totally fade away. I should probably feel guilty, but everyone will just assume its Molly, even if they hear something. Well, except at work…hahaha! I stood pausing just a moment at the outrageous thought. I have a hard time imagining wearing a diaper of any kind at work, and yet, an equally hard time going that long without one. I can’t tell if I feel out of control, or that I’ve already accepted this as something I want. It’s a pleasant coincidence that Allen seems to be getting off on it. At least we can be strange together! “What do you guys want for lunch?” I ask the living room where Molly is playing ABC Mouse while Allen reads away on his Galaxy tablet. At least THAT has some educational value. I think watching her tap away at her alphabet. Occasionally, I feel guilty about her tech time. All the “Pros” at raising kids tell you exactly what’s appropriate for everyone’s kids and circumstances. I try to make sure she plays her educational games as much as watching Kids YouTube or one of her games. We color, play, read, and talk in a good balance for us! Molly wakes me up from my soapbox daydream. “Pitha!” Molly screams looking quickly back at her tablet. “We had pizza last night. Nope.” “I’m not super hungry Robin.” Allen admits.“Yeah me either, but it’s like one. I’m not cooking till six-ish.”“How about a sandwich?” He asks.“Yeah. That’ll work. Molls, you want PB&J?”“Pleassse.” Molly begs.“You got it kiddo. Allen, I’m gonna do a small turkey and mayo. Can I get you something?”“Really? Thought I’d be fixing my own…” He chuckles.“You’re not in that much trouble. Besides, I’m feeling pretty awesome right now.”“Good. You’re looking pretty awesome too. Just don’t tell your older sister you’re hanging out with us. My wife gets jealous.”“God, Allen.” I bark in laughter. “Your dad-jokes are getting stronger.” I mumble. I turn to start setting out the sandwich stuff and Allen suddenly grabs me in a hug from behind. His hands invade my overalls trailing down over my not-quite-toned stomach. I feel the bump as his hand hits the onesie covered front of my diaper. It makes him shudder. “I bet you look super cute without the overalls on.” He purrs.“You know I do, but the cut of this onesie doesn’t fit the diaper to well. It’s hanging out on the sides. I look like a toddler wearing her mom’s panties, but I freaking love the feeling, all mushed up. Thanks for changing me earlier. Sorry I got snippy.”“Sorry I was an ass.” We laugh at each other’s apology.“I don’t know where this is going Rob, but I fucking love where it is right now. Make sure you let me know what’s not OK as you figure it out. I don’t like pissing you off, or when you’re mad at me.” “I will. I tried sucking my thumb.” I dangle.“And, did Princess Mommy like that?” “No and I don’t think I like that tone in your voice either. I’m not our daughter or some kid here.” I say politely.“Shit sorry.” Allen moves to stand up and withdraw his hand.“No stay. I’m not mad. You told me to tell you. I was just telling you.” I grind my pelvis against his hand.“Will you wet this one?”“Of course. That’s how I got here. I’m dying to know if it’ll hold.” I giggle and moan at the same time.“Let me know when it happens in case I have to go distract Molly. No sense in her seeing that.”“Yeah. That’s the idea behind these onesies too. They are diaper mufflers!” I admit. He stands up kisses the top of my head telling me I look cute before leaving the room. Allen smacks my padded rear end as he goes. I smile enjoying the attention. It’s so normal and yet abnormal with the diapers. Everything, and I mean everything, feels like a new sexy secret. Every move I make, every step I take, he’s watching me. Hahahaah, I crack myself up! “Hey let’s eat in here guys!” I yell to the living room. We pile up at the table not saying much. I log Molly out of her educational tool and put on Pandora putting it on the bar. Molly and I eat and color some more while Allen reads and eats his sandwich. We have a super terrific peaceful family time singing and eating. “Mommy, I wanna bow bubbles.”“Sounds good to me. How bout you Daddy?”“Good idea girls. Molly, I want to BLOW bubbles.” ----- The Diapered Story of Robin Smith and Her Unconventional Solutions. 11. We head outside as a family. It’s bubble time! Molly has like a million little bubble blowing toys. She has a hard time settling on one toy at a time. I’m almost certain she’s got A.D.D. watching her hover over all the options. She attacks the large Tupperware with her bubble stuff taking out a bubble hoop. It’s a bit chilly outside today, barely seventy-five degrees, and I’m just a little too cool in the shade of our covered porch. I move sitting on the edge of the porch by Molly. The sun feels amazing. Allen joins us after a bit with some drinks taking his seat at the picnic table in the shade of the porch. Guess what he does… got it in one! He pulls out his tablet and starts reading.“Your wizards and werewolves keeping you company over there?” “I’m reading a Star Wars book…” He says raising an eyebrow. “Fine. Bubbles and girls are way more fun… Are your wookies and porgs keeping you company?” “Good company thanks.” He sasses me back. “and there’s no porgs in this book! God I hope those aren’t another Ewok Species.”“I loved the Ewoks! They are cuddly and deadly!” “Blasphemy! How could a feral teddy bear kill a futuristic soldier in body armor!” He scoffs.“I can’t wait to get a stuffed porg for the bed and a six inch one to put with my Jar Jar! Oh! Molly will need one too.” I giggle losing my serious tone.“What’s funny Mommy?” “Daddy baby. Daddy is funny!” We both laugh at Allen, each for our own reasons. “We need to start screening those with her ya know. I was thinking of taking her in December.” Allen adds hopefully.“Yeah, The Last Force is coming out then right?” I tease.“The Last Jedi.”“Whatever…” God, it’s easy to rile him up.***Insert 5 min very motivated tirade on how awesome Star Wars is here***(Not sure what he said. I was smiling too hard to hear him!)“Ok babe, Ok! It’ll be fun to watch Molly see the porgs. God I hope Chewy doesn’t eat one!”“GRAH!” He pretends to rage.I do everything I can to rile him up about his fiction. I can’t help it! He just takes it so seriously. I have picked up a thing or two over the years, but mostly just what his hot button topics are. I own a Jar Jar Binks six inch toy just to annoy Allen.“Eep!” I squeal seeing him rock forward to get up. I sprint out into the yard running from my fanatic of a husband. The guy’s as big as a wookie! You’d run too if he thundered across the deck after you! Molly gets up chasing after Allen who’s chasing after me. Molls laughs so hard she can barely run. I can feel my diaper warming up around my hips. I’m thankful for the powder I used earlier. Allen is a typical ex-football guy. He has large grass eating strides, but not classically quick or maneuverable. I am. I’m quick and maneuverable as hell!We race around the front yard laughing, giggling, and with Allen thundering behind me pretending to be mad. Our neighbors undoubtedly think we are nuts, funny, but nuts for sure! That fun comes to a jarring halt when I step in a mole-run or something. The grass beneath my foot collapses under me. I twist my ankle in terrible unintended and hit the ground hard. Well, I hit hard, but not as hard as it would have, cause you know… diaper! I hear a tremendous pop and then pain radiates through me. It hurts, but the whole thing is so fucking funny that I can’t quit laughing even though tears streaming down my cheeks. I roll over and lay on the grass putting my injured leg on the knee of the good leg letting it dangle.“God Rob, are you ok baby?”“Nope, hurts.” I sniffle.“Mommy gonna go to da hospital?” “I hope not Princess. Let me have a look baby.” “Just… don’t move it, or touch it, or look at it. Damn!”Just under fifty minutes later, we pull in at the hospital’s emergency room. There’s an ace bandaged wrapped around my barefoot and the bottom of my overall pant leg. Allen parks the car under the awning and picks me up sitting me and Molly down in the waiting room. “Al, prop it up for me honey.” “K, then I’ll move the car.” “I’m so sorry, I love you.” I tell him.“Oh Robin, I love you so much. This isn’t your fault, don’t apologize. Fucking feel like Bill Murry in Caddyshack.” “But our weekend. God my foot is throbbing. I hate moles.” I give up trying to be the adult here. I sit Molly in my lap as she hugs me tightly. I sniffle into her hair amazed at the pain in my leg. Allen shuffles uncertain of what he should do. He needs to move the car… and register me… and comfort me. He’s uncomfortable with the whole situation and having a hard time deciding what to do first. “Baby… I… Shit, I’ll be right back.” He says finally committing to parking the car first.“Ummm… Daaddyy!” Molly tuts.All I could really do is look at him and let the tears trickle down my face. Shooting wicked arcs of pain radiate from my ankle down into my big toe. I can still wiggle my foot so Allen didn’t think my leg was broken, but there is something structurally wrong with my toe. It doesn’t look like it’s laying the way it should anymore. He knows I’m a pretty tough chick. I can handle pain, and my failure to handle this pain is freaking him out.Allen sprints out of the room, the doors slowing him down while he waits on them to open. I lean my head back wiping my eyes while rubbing Molly’s back. I don’t mean to scare her, but it’s impossible to push all this pain aside. “Mommy is ok?” She asks. “No not yet, but that’s why we are here baby. They’ll fix me up.” “You gonna gets crutches?” “Probably, but not right away. They will tell me to stay off my ouchies for a while.” “Girls, I’m back. Molly I have to go tell them Mommy’s here.” Allen rushes over to the ER Nurse’s intake window. He’s up there for a while filling out paperwork and describing my injuries. My phone chirps a Jawa sound after a bit of writing on his part.[Allen] Hey, I need your social and date of birth.[Me] 555-55-5555, *raised eye emoji*[Allen] nvmd on your date of birth… I figured it out.[Me] good![Allen] Almost done baby. We’ll get in pretty fast she says. [Me] *crybaby face emoji*“Allen, unwrap this. It’s too tight. Fold up my pants so I don’t have to take them off.” I make eye contact with him. Allen suddenly remembers my unconventional underwear. “Alright, if it hurts tell me.” “Should I just start screaming and not stop until you’re done?” I ask arching my eyebrow. The nurse comes out calling my name and Allen just picks me up. He holds me like a baby with my arms around his neck and face in his chest. My big toe is already turning some very unflattering colors clashing with my polish, which unreasonably pisses me off on top of the pain. He doesn’t have an arm to hold Molly’s hand with so, he shifts me around in a baby monkey hold my good leg wrapped around his waist. I keep my arms draped around his neck and straddle his stomach with one of his hands under my diapered ass. It is a super embarrassing way to be hauled around! We follow the nurse into a room and he sits me down on a paper covered exam table. We wait about fifteen more minutes with nurses and others coming in and out of the room. The doctor comes in like a paperwork tornado. He pokes and prods at my ankle, leg, foot, and toe. I hold up, but I can’t pull back the tears, that shit freaking hurts.“I’m fairly certain you have a severely fractured big toe. I think it’s dislocated too. I’m sending you for x-rays of your toe and ankle. The bruising is already starting up. That’s pretty quick. It’ll be a nasty sprain if nothing else. I’ll have a nurse clean up your foot before you go in. Your ankle is at least a high sprain and may have some hairline fractures as well, but nothing is massively out of place there. If your toe is dislocated, I’ll have to reduce it before we get you out of here. You’re looking at maybe casts for sure walking boot. The x-rays will tell.” He pats my knee calling for his nurse. The ibu I’d swallowed at home finally starts kicking in. I feel a layer or two the pain peeling back as the nurse cleans my feet. It is super weird and I don’t my like feet anyway, so I’m very uncomfortable. I focus on talking to Allen and Molly instead.“Stop squirming Rob. She’ll be done in a bit.” Allen comforts me. He turns to the nurse, “She doesn’t like feet.”A bit later they wheel me into x-ray leaving Allen and Molly in the waiting room. They painfully articulate my ankle snapping two of the toe and four of the ankle. I thoroughly wet my diaper while trying to hold my ankle in a bad angle that ramps up my pain. Back in the emergency treatment room, “Allen” I whisper. “I’m soaked. I’m super worried I’m going to leak. What the hell do we do?” ----- The Diapered Story of Robin Smith and Her Unconventional Solutions. 12. I’m genuinely terrified, but Allen doesn’t appear to have any answers for me. Worse yet, it doesn’t look like I’m getting out of here any time soon. So, we sit and wait on the doctor while I worry anxiously over my wet butt. Molls starts getting impatient fidgeting and starting to whine. Of course, that does nothing positive for my mood! Now I have a soggy ass and a kid that is about to lose her cool. Allen picks her up smiling at me. He sits her beside me in the hospital bed while breaking out his phone.I guess she was quiet longer than I thought she would be. I love you so much Doodlebug! I can’t wait for you to grow out of this awful whining stage though. Lord, it’s annoying. Shit. I’m whining too. I think as I realize I’m pouting. The edges of my mouth twerk up and I smile to myself.We’re still waiting when I feel the need to pee rise. Everything I’d drank at lunch and outside before my “foot thing” calls knocking at my bladders door. I “psst” at Allen catching his attention and motioning toward my diapered crotch with my eyes. I release a little pressure and sigh letting him know that I was wetting right then. I see the comprehension in Allen’s face. He moves Molly to the chair and checks the hospital door. Finding it fully closed, he comes to stand by my head. He leans in and picks me up gingerly. “Why don’t you just finish really fast? Then I’ll take it off of you and clean you up. You can go commando till we get out’a here.” “That’ll work. Hey, just sit me on the toilet… I can finish there.” I whisper out loud improving his plan cause there wasn’t any sense in wetting my overalls.Why the hell didn’t I think of that…? Because you don’t want to be without one! That’s why you twat… I bash myself. Answering your own mental questions is the first sign of insanity? I narrate internally. Then I mentally laugh at myself causing a physical laughing to trickle out into Allen’s shoulder.Allen sits me on the humongous hospital potty. I undo my overall bibs and hold myself up off the toilet while he tugs them down to my ankles. I look up at Allen with a mischievous look on my face and wet the diaper before he can pull it off me. As I’d feared, I over flow my protection hearing my water meet the toilet’s. Good call Princess Mommy! I think to myself.“You done yet?” Allen asks chuckling. “Yeah, hey look there! There’s wipes in here.” I point.“Got ya.” I don’t go commando very often, particularly in jean material! There are some delicate bits that should never suffer the indignity of blue jean friction. I can almost feel the furrows forming in my ass cheeks leaving funny prints in my skin. Redressed and cleaned up, Allen deposits me on the bed. I adjust my overalls moving and tugging the crotch trying to make sure no jean seams line up with my own!The doctor knocks once rapidly and sliding in the room. He puts the X-Ray’s on the wall unit lighting it up. He smiles at us grabbing his rolling doctor’s stool and scooting over to my bed side. Allen drops Molly in his lap and silences the phone preparing to listen to the doctor.“Well, I have good news and bad news!” The doctor breaks the strained silence. I sigh at his response, “Well, let’s start with the bad news!”“K, Good news. Your leg isn’t broken, but your toe sure is!” He says. “I wanted the bad news first!” I huff.“Well, the bad news is your leg isn’t broken!” He dead pans.“I don’t understand.” Allen says. “Well, my diagnosis is a high ankle sprain with a tearing of the ligaments between the tibia and fibula. Frankly, it’s more painful and is a longer recovery than a brake. In fact, most patients with this injury require physical therapy to get back in motion.” He concludes.“Well, that’s not good. Short term?” Allen asks.We talk for about thirty minutes while the doctor reduces my toe. The pain causes me to lurch forward in the bed. I feel the crotch of my overalls dampen. I immediately flush red color swamping my features. The guys simply believe it’s my reaction to the pain, but it’s not. It’s a insane feeling of embarrassment. Son of a BITCH! I yell internally.In the end, I wind up without a cast! They have this wrap-splint thing for my foot that stabilizes my toe and a high ankle walking boot for the sprain. I’m stuck 24/7 in the boot for four weeks and in the toe cast-wrap-splint-thing for the same. The doctor suspects that I’ll be in the boot for another six to eight weeks tapering off after the initial four weeks.The hospital insists that I ride a wheel chair to the emergency room outdoor pickup. I don’t fight them, but I can feel myself piddle when the orderly helps me up and then I sit into the chair. Allen picks up Molly trailing us out of the ER treatment area. I sit with the orderly while Allen grabs the car. We make a bit of small talk, or I try to. It seems like I have too or somehow he’d know that I’d wet myself. This is why I always wear a pad! Fuck! I yell inside fully of anger and shame. God, I just want to be home and cleaned up!Allen pulls up and hops out. Molly waves frantically at me. I wave back at her shyly. The orderly helps me to stand as he comes around our car. I turn around facing the orderly who smiles gently at me.“Sir?” “Yeah?” “Do you have a towel or something? If you don’t, I can get a trash bag or something for your wife.” The orderly murmurs.“I… Uh…” I stutter mortified.“We keep a towel in here for our daughter. I’ll get it.” Allen says walking to the back of the car and popping the trunk. “Oh. My. God. I’m… I can’t…” I flounder for words.“Oh Ma’am. Don’t worry about it. Stuff happens all the time. We have to sanitize these between each patient anyway. There’s no extra work and you don’t have to be embarrassed.” He tells me.“I can’t help it. This is so embarrassing.” “Can I give you a hug?” The fatherly large blonde orderly asks me.“I guess.” He leans in, “Listen, no one comes here because everything is fine.” He releases me.“We’re like IT. No one calls those guys when their computers are working fine just to say ‘Hey, my PC is working great and screaming fast!’ Nope, folks come here messed up. We try to send them home better than they arrived. That’s all we are hoping for. I’ve seen much worse. Please try not to feel to bad.”“Thanks man. She needed that, but she’s still gonna moan for days about this.” “She’s right. the. Fuck. HERE!” Anger is easier than embarrassment. So I go with anger.“Awe, here let me help you up Rob. We’ll get you home and cleaned up!” Allen says lifting me into the car. “Ya’ll take care now!” The orderly says turning his back and waving at us. It is late afternoon by the time we pull up into our driveway. Allen gets Molly to grab my purse and he carries me into the house directly to our bed. I sigh and take another round of Ibu. I’d taken the good stuff the ER doc prescribed immediately after we picked it up at Walgreens on the way home, but it hasn’t kicked in yet. I sag into our soft bed happy to be home, but injured and whiney about it lying on another towel. “On the bright side, you love skirts!” Allen teases. “I do, but I love my jeans more!” I pout. “Are you in a lot of pain right now?” “I think that stuff the doctor gave me is kicking in. I feel sleepy and tingly. Like my fingers are waking up from falling asleep.” I tell him snapping my fingers.“Sounds like it.” Allen chuckles. He diapers me with the same tender care he did the first time. I relax even further lying on the fluffy bead in my fluffy diaper elated to be dry. I put my arms out to the side making a comforter snow angle and giggle at the ceiling. God, I’m high as fuck… hehehehe I realize and find hilarious. “Yeah, I think you are hon.” Allen agrees. “Was that out loud?” I ask with wide eyes.“Yeah.” He laughs at me. “I hate this.” I whimper.“I know. You just can’t stand not being in control can you?” He laughs.“Well, I mean… yeah. Mine! All of it… hahaha.” I laugh.“You staying in here or coming out there?” He asks.“I don’t wanna be all loopy in front of Doodlebug.” “I get it. You just gonna lay there in your bra and diaper? Want some more clothes?”“Uh… yeah rotate the laundry. Remember coldy-cold water for da colors man.” I try for a suffer guy voice. “Oh man, I’m sad I’m gonna miss this. You’ll adjust though. You’ll be fine tomorrow I bet.” He assures me.“Leave me here until the whites dry up. I wanna wear a onesie, but I’ll stay here under the covers until then. Maybe take a nap.” I try to roll on my side. “Let’s get you covered up Princess Mommy.” Allen reassures me patting my butt.“Don’t forget to change me. I’m totally not getting up for peeing in this thing. Hey bring me my phone and put the charger in here… pppppwease.” I let him tuck me in like a kid and quickly drift off to sleep.
  6. Les Lea

    Crinkle 1-6 (end)

    Crinkle Part 1 He loved that sound as he moved. That tell-tale ‘crinkle’ that announced to those in the know just what it was he was wearing. They were a new acquisition. The online firm had been very specific that this particular piece of protection was very noisy. Up until he saw the colourful image of butterflies and birds festooned all over the satin briefs, he had never really wanted anything that might draw attention to his ‘slight’ fetish. He was happy for those in the know to be one – him. He wasn’t interested in having DL friends. He wasn’t interested in being babied, all he wanted was that comfort he felt when he wore his nappy and the joy it gave him putting it on and taking it off. However, the online firm he bought his little ‘bits and pieces’ from had launched a new ‘noisy’ range and the photo of this particular pair of waterproof pants had attracted his attention. MAKE SOME NOISE said the headline for the range, and there had been a fair few pairs of pants that he would have been happy to buy but it was this, rather cute, childish and sweet design that appeared to have made the biggest impression. They must have done because for almost a week before he bought them they were occupying his dreams, both night and day. Eventually, the obsession needed to be satisfied so, via PayPal, he made the purchase and waited impatiently for them to be delivered. ++ The impatience didn’t last long because within two days a brown package arrived at his home where, as he was out at work, his mother signed for them. She squeezed the package as she took possession from the mailman and liked the soft feel and the muted crinkle she heard as she did so. She smiled to herself and assumed her boy was treating himself again. Good for him, she thought, he should have other interests beside computers and work. Her son Ryan was 24, slim, nice-looking (she always said he was the handsomest and cutest baby) but a bit of a loner. Her husband Jeff had died in an accident at work when Ryan was 4 years-old so for the past twenty years it had just been the two of them together. The insurance had made it so she was well compensated for her loss and the fact that her son seemed more than happy to live at home had made her content with life. Mother and son spent a lot of time together and socialised (if that was the correct term for the few friends that they bothered to see) and even went on vacation together hardly ever inviting others into their tight band of two. Despite Ryan feeling his ‘fetish’ was only know by him, his mother had known about it for a long time. In fact, she remembered the time it took to get him out of nappies and how much her son of 9 had cried when he was made to wear only his pyjamas when he went to bed instead of the protection he’d happily worn up until then; his mum eventually convincing him to be grown-up, even if she had a secret longing for him to stay forever her baby. Of course for a mother all children remain their babies… no matter how old they get and Ryan, well Ryan had found his own way to satisfy something he needed. She was happy about this but didn’t want to be seen obviously condoning it because she knew that he thought his secret was just that… a secret. However, she had a secret of her own and that was she knew Ryan wore his nappies to sleep in and had noticed he occasionally went to work wearing his padding. It was at those times she just wanted to ‘mother’ him and return to those days when she looked after every aspect of his life. But, she was of the opinion that she would only do so if and when her son asked her to. She didn’t want to provoke any reaction that might somehow make things awkward at home. She liked her son being with her and would hate for him to feel she had driven him away because of something she wanted. No, the best thing was to support her son when it was needed but in the meantime, enjoy her memories of when he was young… though she could add those images that ran around her head of him sucking his thumb and wearing his nappy now. +++ He walked up and down his bedroom knowing that no one else would know what he was wearing but rather pleased about what he could hear. Crinkle, crinkle, crinkle. Over the years he’d kept this secret he’d had no desire to broadcast it to anyone else but, and this was the part he really wondered about, this new possession, this stunning pair of satin and plastic protection, gave him a whole new insight to his fixation. The nappies had been wonderful; comfortable, soft, bulky and held happy memories for him. The plastic pants had been a later addition; one that seemed to set off his nappy and give it a new, smooth, sensual aura that he suddenly craved. These new pants had been that step further; an acknowledgement of his own desires (even if he was only admitting it to himself) with that audible response to each step he took. Crinkle, crinkle, crinkle. He thought this was a bold step, although he wasn’t sure why. He wasn’t a brave man and couldn’t see himself wandering down the road ‘rustling and crinkling’ till heart’s content but the fact that he had picked up the nerve to buy them, he thought, must mean something. He looked in the mirror. Naked apart from his thick nappy and beautiful silky covering he was amazed at how spectacular and wonderful it all looked. He moved slightly… crinkle… he moved again… crinkle… he was looking forward to sleeping in his new noisy protection. In fact, he might have an early night so he could enjoy the strange and electric sensations that were coursing through his body. Just as he was about to shout down to his mother (who he presumed would be downstairs watching the TV) unannounced she walked in to his room. ++++ An ice-cold feeling of panic coursed through his body. This was the first time his mother had seen him dressed in such a way since he was a child. The smile on her face wasn’t noticed as he screamed angrily at her to “Get Out”. “Get out, get out, GET OUT.” Despite his harsh words terror rooted him to the spot, his slim naked frame only highlighting his padded outline but his mum wasn’t to be put off. “Ryan it’s alright I…” But Ryan shook his head and screamed more, “Get out, GET OUT.” The feeling of wellbeing that had encompassed his body and mind just a few moments earlier were now transformed into anger and guilt… he shivered at those very guilty feelings. His mum stepped forward to comfort her irate son but he stepped away, trying to hide his embarrassment and push her away at the same time. “Don’t worry Ryan… it’s going to be OK… I…” Again he pushed his mother towards the door, tears beginning to form in his eyes, but at that moment fury conquered his guilt as he spat those words once more. “GET OOOOOUUUUTTTT”. His mother’s beseeching hands held out in comfort were rejected amid her son’s confusion and terrified shame. He screamed at her but this time his mum would have none of it. She grabbed him by the arms, spun him around and landed three quick slaps to his padded bottom. He would have hardly felt a thing but was so surprised by this that he immediately stopped screaming. His mother sensing the change of mood stormed in. “Don’t you ever,” spank, “raise” spank, “your voice” spank, “to your mother” spank, “again.” She knew her actions would have caught him off guard and pressed this slight advantage. “Ryan Gatland… do you understand?” and she raised her hand as if threatening to repeat the spanking. “Yes,” his voice was almost inaudible. “Yes what?” His mum pursued her point with another slap. Through sniffles he told her the words she insisted on hearing. “I will not shout at mum… mummy.” She hugged him close to her chest and smoothed her son’s hair. “That’s right. Mummy is always here for her little baby boy… no matter what.” She hugged and kissed his head more. “No matter what…” she quietly repeated. +++tbc+++
  7. Never More Content - Part 1 Rob had been with Doctor Mark Thompson now for around 19 months. It was a relationship that, at the beginning, neither could have foreseen the outcome. However, Rob has never been happier; his days are now filled with fun, adventure and that rarest of gifts… love. For these last few months he had learned that he didn’t have to fight for everything, he didn’t have to worry about anything and, in fact, he didn’t have to think at all, Daddy would see to his every need. Rob was only 14 when he tried to mug the rich-looking man who was getting out of his BMW. His stomach was empty and he was desperate because for the last few weeks he had been living rough on the streets. He’d had to learn how to survive quickly since he ‘left’ home and he wasn’t doing too well. Opportunities to find food, shelter and safety weren’t as easy to come by as he had hoped they would be. In fact, he hadn’t had a decent meal or a place to stay since he’d slammed the door and swore at that drunken bitch… his mother. Recently, his home life had deteriorated badly, he’d been expelled from school because of his mounting violent streak, he fought against any form of authority, he hated the world and everyone in it and he needed to get OUT. However, living rough was even worse. When he wasn’t being offered drugs, he was the victim of those desperate drug addicts who saw him as an easy target. He carried the cuts and bruises to prove it as he was no match against the rougher element he met. His stomach ached with hunger and he urgently needed to get some money and this smart, swanky, well-to-do guy appeared to have loads. In the past he'd begged for money but people either took no notice, as if he didn’t exist or worse, screamed abuse at him for daring to ask for help. The only way he’d found effective was to threaten, then he was listened to and the sharp 8” blade he now carried certainly got most people’s attention. He waved it at the BMW owner and demanded money but his threat was swiftly countered by a speedy kick from the man that sent the knife spinning through the air and a follow up kick to the would-be mugger’s head that knocked him to the ground. It all happened so fast that Rob didn’t know what hit him until he regained consciousness… then things really began to get weird. Forty year-old Mark Thompson is a man who knows what he wants. He left school and university with an armful of top class awards, flourished quickly in his specialised field and found the demanding intensity of his martial arts programme the perfect way to relax, keep fit and stay alert. In the dark he hadn’t realised the age of his assailant, all he saw was a body rushing towards him and a fleeting glimpse of a steely pointed object being jabbed in his direction. His training took over and in a nanosecond the would-be assassin was dropped to the ground unconscious. As he checked the prone body he realised that the youth lying at his feet was in need of some treatment. He reached down and easily picked up the grubby, thin urchin and carried him to his apartment just a few yards away. The boy was filthy. His clothes were torn and tattered whilst the bruises and cuts on his hands and face made Mark wonder what the poor little guy had been through recently (apart from a kick to the head that is). He got the lad into his home and started to inspect the comatose body now he had light to see just what his injuries were. He removed the lad’s thin jacket and t-shirt and saw that there was a very bad, festering cut on his arm that appeared to have gone untreated for some time. He removed the boy’s trainers and jeans and saw that he was just a mass of bruises and, strangely perhaps, he felt sorry for his would-be mugger. The boy was still out for the count so Mark called a friend of his who was a doctor and asked him to come around and check the boy out. He arrived minutes later from an apartment in the same block just as Mark had finished trying to wipe as much grime away as possible and the lad was beginning to regain consciousness. Although not fully compos mentis Rob realised that something was going on and he was being touched… so he lashed out. Although there was hardly any force to the blow he managed to cuff the doctor at the side of his head and was about to throw another punch when Mark grabbed his arms and pinned him down. Despite being naked and having little strength he tried to fight back and break away from his captives. Alas, he was no match for them and a quick injection from the doctor calmed him down and he drifted off into unconsciousness again. Once he’d gotten over the brief commotion Paul, the doctor, carried out his examination and treated the bruises and cuts on the pale thin body as best he could. His diagnosis was more malnutrition than any great injury but recommended that the large cut on the boy’s arm was kept under scrutiny for any infection. He gave the boy various injections that would help him recover and suggested that Paul feed the lad up before letting him go… or call the police… or do whatever he was going to do with his young attacker. “He’ll be out for about 12 hours,” the doctor informed Mark. “So, is there anything else… or can I get back to Little Liam? I left him sitting in front of the TV watching the Cartoon Channel.” He saw Mark’s raised eyebrows, “Yes again,” he said with a shrug of the shoulders, “it’s his favourite.” Before he left Mark asked Paul to check to see if the lad had been sexually abused. Paul checked the boy’s anus and said that it was inflamed and torn and he reckoned that the lad must have been the subject of a vicious attack, and had probably been raped… and perhaps more than once was his diagnosis. Mark sighed “Poor little fellow.” Mark looked down at the lad once more and began to wonder what had driven this sorry looking soul to this point. He was even worried that if he threw him out and back onto the streets, the boy would be an easy victim of some unscrupulous druggies or bullies. He wondered what he could do to help; after all, he was a trained (and rather expensive) behavioural psychologist, perhaps he could help sort the lad out. As he speculated he suddenly became aware of a strong aroma and gathered that the boy had just urinated onto his leather sofa. He quickly grabbed the nearest thing to hand to mop it up, which led to the lad’s thin t-shirt, pants and jeans soon soaked with stinking piss. Rob was unaware of what had happened as Mark took these smelly objects and tossed them into the washing machine. Then he realised he couldn’t leave the lad naked so went off to find something to cover him with. Mindful that he needed to protect his sofa from any further accidents he found a large towel and some safety pins. Returning to the sleeping boy he fitted it like a diaper around the lad’s waist. Whilst pulling the towel up between the lad’s legs and fastening it tightly a sudden shiver ran down Mark’s spine. He caught his breath at this moment of recognition. His mind catapulted him back to the last time he’d done this - it was during his final exams in his last year of senior school. A huge trauma had recently affected Mark and he remembered waking up some mornings to find he’d unconsciously wet the bed. The trauma had been the dramatic death of his father in an explosion at the chemical plant where he worked, which had killed 17 others and had devastating consequences to all concerned. Finding he’d wet the bed at his age was another upset he found difficult to deal with and although he and his mother were very close, he didn’t want to burden her at this time with what he saw as a ‘stupid childish’ problem. Each night he’d diaper himself with a towel just in case he wet again and every morning he’d wake to find it soaked but on the plus side… at least the bed and bedding were reasonably dry. The pressure of exams and the death of his loving father, who had encouraged him to do well and to work hard, had ultimately had a distressing effect. He wanted his dad to be proud of him so worked exceptionally hard to pass his exams. The hours he put in to revision, the empty loss he felt inside, the sadness he could only imagine his mother was going through, all just built and built until it found some kind of release. It was just over a week that he’d been diapering himself when his mom found out. It was early one Monday morning when she entered his bedroom to wake him and found him sat on the edge of his bed in the soaked makeshift diaper. His youthful looks were etched with anguish as he shrugged not even trying to hide his obvious shame. She hugged her bed-wetting son and told him that he shouldn’t have to carry that worry on his own as she was there for him… for anything… and everything. Between them they would meet head on and solve any problem that came up. They had always been close and, like when his dad was alive, there were few secrets in this loving family. He was relieved that he didn’t have to pretend to her anymore and, as she sat beside him, both cried in their mutual sorrow. Once the tears were almost dried up she asked if he needed any help with his diapers. Apart from the soggy one, which at that moment was hanging heavily between his legs, he wasn’t sure what she meant. He gave a side-long look at his sympathetic mother and asked if she was offering to change him. She giggled, relieving what could have been a tense situation, and put her hand to her mouth as if she’d said something really stupid. They both laughed. “If I thought you needed it, of course I would, but you seem to be coping OK.” She looked into his eyes reassuringly. “But,” and she looked down at the sagging diaper, “don’t forget the other things… you don’t want to be getting a diaper rash at your age.” She paused to check he was still OK with what she was saying, “What I meant was, do you need me to get you anything?” He realised she was correct… it had all been a bit haphazard. He hadn’t been taking care of that side of his diaper hygiene, just having a shower then dressing for college… and his crotch and bum were raw and beginning to itch. His mom bought him some more appropriate disposables, plastic pants and assorted lotions and powders, it was like when he was a kid again and she loved the diversion from her own problems. One evening when Mark was getting ready for bed and applying his night time protection his mom came in and asked him if he recalled that he went through a similar period of bed-wetting when he was four. He remembered but, perhaps surprisingly, not in a negative way… it had all been so normal. She told him that he’d been potty-trained for two years when, just before he started school, he started to wet again. “Stress,” she said as if it was the answer, “you were very scared of leaving me and going to school.” His mom went on to tell him about the fun she and his father had with diapering their slightly older, but still little scamp as he played. “Wearing a diaper never stopped you doing anything. You never seemed to worry about it.” Indeed, from the moment it had been suggested that he needed to go back into diapers to save the bedding and loads of washing, he seemed to accept it. His dad was determined that he shouldn’t get distressed by being back in a diaper so had gone out of his way to be positive when his son was wearing them. This was partly due to the fact that he had also wet the bed as a child and his father, Mark’s grandfather, had given his own son such a horrible time about it; ridiculing and chastising him all the time. Mark’s dad was determined that if that type of misfortune should happen to his own son he would never be made to feel guilty about it. In fact, his dad, and mom to a certain degree, had loved having their 4 year-old baby back. They loved him scampering around the house in just a diaper and it never bothered young Mark because he was always being told it was normal as it was no more than just another style of underwear. The truth was that both his parents had loved his sweet little padded butt getting into all the things a 4 year-old got into. His dad had made it into a game for Mark and bought special plastic covers for his son’s diapers. Soon the little imp was running around in brightly coloured pants, that although made the padding thicker, didn’t seem to hinder his ability, or confidence, in getting around. At school there was no difficulty as he wasn’t the only one still in diapers and while at home, he seemed to prefer to wear little else. Even though it started as just a night time precaution, Mark was often up and dressed first thing in a morning before his parents and he’d have fastened himself into a diaper for the day… no matter what he was doing or where he was going. Both his mom and dad thought this was the cutest thing and Mark himself seemed to love each new design that was slipped over his diaper… often choosing the colour and pattern that his dad offered him each day. He wore all that extra padding from 4 years until he was almost eight, when, after a stay-over with his friend Danny, he'd asked his mom to buy him some big boy pants for when he started school again. Although his parents were sad that their little boy had grown up, they didn’t want to keep him dressed that way if he it made him unhappy. As his mum told him this story, parts of that time came flooding back to him and he remembered it as a period when he had never been happier. There was a great deal of loving attention from both his mom and dad and he recalled the constant picking up and hugging by them both. “We just loved patting your thick diapered butt.” His mom had said with a reminiscing smile, “and you… well you’d never seemed more content”. Suddenly those words struck him “never more content” and he knew exactly what he could do with his young, would-be assailant. His mind was suddenly dazzled with the possibility of this new enterprise. As the boy slept on oblivious of the thoughts that were now so appealing to Mark, the psychologist regretted chucking the lad’s clothing into the wash. As the final spin-cycle came to a stop he realised that any clues to his identity would probably have been washed away. The damp bundle of clothes revealed nothing at all. In fact, only the boy’s jeans appeared to have held together, the rest had simply dissolved to mere bits and pieces not even fit for rags. Finding out any information about the boy was now down to what he was prepared to reveal. He wasn’t sure if this would be a problem but looking down on the lad, wrapped in such a thick diaper, he thought it all might be worth the effort. He had this grand plan developing in his head as he slipped upstairs to his doctor friend to tell him about his intentions and to borrow some items that he thought would come in useful. ***tbc***
  8. Danni – My life as a living boy doll Part 1 My older sister has been dressing me up since I was a baby. Shortly after I was born, Julie, who was 5 at the time, took it upon her young shoulders to look after her baby brother and make sure no harm came to him. Apparently, even at her early age, she was the one who washed and changed me and made sure I was clean and tidy at all times. She chose and fitted the nappy I was to wear, the plastic pants, the romper outfit, the clothes, she bottle fed me, winded me and choose my dummy…every decision seemed to be down to her. My mum would go shopping but it was always Julie who decided on the clothes she thought I should wear and, as it took a great deal of stress away from my mum, who had other things to think about, like running her own business, I was more or less brought up by my loving and attentive older sister. My mother, a ‘peppy’ Californian girl had arrived in England desperate to get bedded by the lead singer of one of the world’s top rock bands. She followed them on tour but the closest she ever got to having her way with the singer, was to be part of an orgy that the bass guitarist held in his hotel room. It was after that dispiriting experience she decided she needed to find something else to occupy her time. From being a trainee at a London advertising agency, she quickly rose up through the ranks and within two years was heading her own creative department. A year later and she went solo, taking a whole host of the firm’s client base with her and making an absolute fortune in a very short time. She spent all her time working and had little time for relationships. Julie was the result of her first failed marriage to the boss of the original agency she had worked for – it had lasted 22 months and was a messy divorce. I think the fact she took so many of his clients with her hadn’t helped in the settlement. Her husband, Julie’s father, had wanted nothing to do with his young offspring when the divorce was finalised, so mum was left to bring her up on her own. From an early age Julie was encouraged to be her own person and mum saw her young but determined daughter flourish when given responsibility. On the other hand I was the product of her getting shagged by a young sexy intern. I gather I was created over her office desk by an 18 year-old who, I understood, had just left a local art college. Apparently, mum had taken to him from the moment of his interview. His fine bone structure, his soft flowing blond locks, a gentleness and soft speech that set him apart from all the other young go-getters, really appealed to her. After the experience with her much older first husband, she set her sights on good-looking young men who would satisfy her occasional sexual cravings… and, she being who she was… the boss, got into his pants at the first available opportunity. Mum may have been 15 years older than her sex toy but she was (and is) a fantastic looking woman so I suppose it wasn’t that much of an ordeal for him. I must have been conceived on that very first occasion, mum obviously not taking the correct precautions because, two months later, when she realised she was pregnant, the young intern disappeared from the company pretty quickly. Mum told me many years later that he was a terrific, gentle lover and would have been a fine father, but at his age she knew he couldn’t, and shouldn’t, face such responsibilities and her guilt about using him had made it so he would simply slip into the annuls of history without the knowledge he was a father. His name was Daniel and that is what mum called me. Perhaps another thing you might be interested in knowing is that I was a ‘star’ baby. Mum, always keen to keep an eye on her projects, had bundled me up a few weeks after my birth and had taken me along to an important client’s photo shoot. The photographer thought I was there for the scene and used me instead of the baby who’d been booked for the part. Apparently, even just weeks old, I was a very cheerful and passive baby who seemed to smile and gurgle all the time. I was adorable - according to both my mum and that original photographer. From then on I appeared in TV commercials, my naked bum being lathered with baby oil, wearing the latest disposable nappy or having me sucking in the latest milky formula… I was much in demand. Indeed, up until I was 2 years old I was used to sell every conceivable product for babies and toddlers. I was also the face for a range of baby food and milk products and according to my mum, I was on TV and posters right around the world. Alas, my career was over by the age of two when I was just too overused and a new face was needed. I can’t say it worried me one way or the other. Evidently, I’d been a baby boy or girl, depending on what sex the client wanted, and my sweet cute ‘none-specific gender’ looks meant I was the right image for whatever product they wanted to promote. As a baby I was often mistaken for a girl. People would come up to the pram and goo-goo at my cuteness and say what a gorgeous little girl I was. My blond curly hair not adding much to the image of being a boy and the clothes, all pastel colours, lace and ruffles, contributing to the gender confusion. Although my name was Daniel, ever since I was a baby, Julie always called me Danni (with the emphasis on the ‘a’) and it seems that everyone else followed suit. In fact, I’m told that Julie would correct anyone, even family members, who called me Daniel insisting that I prefer Danni, the truth is I never had a say in anything. My life was pretty much organised by my sister, and to a lesser extent, my mother, so very little male influence ever entered my life. I suppose I was dressed more often as a girl than a boy because Julie was in charge of my wardrobe, so whether it was shorts or a skirt, it was all the same to me as I never knew if one was for a boy or girl. Even my mum’s occasional boyfriends weren’t really bothered, I think all they saw were two young children - both of whom were girls. I remember one of her boyfriends, as always he was young but a bit rougher than her usual ‘type’, who used to ask me to dance for him. Although I was quite shy I had been encouraged to dance by Julie from a very early age, so thought nothing about such a request and I was hoping to please this new man in my mother’s life. He obviously thought of me as a little girl as every time he’d seen me Julie would have me dressed in a rather feminine way. On this one occasion I was about to attend a party organised by my sister, which included her friends and various dolls. I was dressed in a peach coloured satin dress and matching peach ruffled knickers that she had worn to parties when she was my age and thought the ensemble was the perfect festive wear. To me it was all the same, I wore what I was told and at 5 years old, it made no difference to me as I’d been wearing such stuff all my childhood. However, dressed as I was, and dancing up close to my mother’s boyfriend, he grabbed me and pulled me close up between his legs telling me what a clever little girl I was and how pretty I looked and what a terrific dancer I was. Meanwhile, as I partly danced and partly squirmed about in his ‘loving’ embrace he was tickling me and trying to make me giggle, which I did. Unfortunately, as we were both laughing and ‘enjoying’ the moment I felt myself release a bit of pee. As the tickling continued it was pretty soon a flood and my satin peach-coloured ruffled panties became sopping wet through. Mum came in wondering what all the laughter was about and saw me wet and wriggling in pure delight. “He’s always doing that. He loves to play dress up with his sister but…” She noticed I had a damp stain. “Poor boy has got over excited. Come on sweetheart let’s get you sorted out.” As I left I looked back and he looked stunned. I think it was the first time he knew I was a boy. When Julie saw the mess on my stained underwear she assumed whisked me away to be changed. This time, and even at 5 years-old, I was nappied and returned to the party in a new clean outfit that barely concealed my new protective plastic pants that rustled noisily as I moved. Again everything matched; they were lace trimmed, like the new blue frilly dress I was wearing (another set of Julie’s old clothes that had never been thrown out and that I now struggled to fit into). Once I was looking pretty and dressed accordingly I was finally allowed back into the fun with her friends where we all sat down to fairy cakes, ice cream and juice… Julie always threw a terrific party. Danni - Part 2 – Scary boys As I got older all my playmates were Julie’s friends and they were all girls. Up until I went to nursery I’m not sure if I ever had any boys as friends and when I did meet them I was very nervous and scared of their rough ways. I cried an awful lot as a child when I wasn’t at home or with Julie, she was both my friend and protector and I loved her. Whatever she asked me to do I did without question because I knew that Julie was always right and was only thinking of me. At the nursery when I was 4 she once pushed one of the boys in the paddling pool after I told her he’d made me cry by grabbing a doll I wanted to play with. He was the one wet and crying after that and I never had any trouble with him taking my toys again... Julie was fantastic. I didn’t realise that Julie keeping me in nappies until I was six was anything different to anyone else. I wasn’t only a brother to her I was a real live doll who she loved to wash and change and dress up. She was the one who decided my bed times and was brilliant at reading me a story; some she often made up that featured either her or me in heroic situations. Even though I was toilet trained, Julie saw to that, I was regularly still put into nappies and plastic pants. This was partly my fault as at nursery, after lunch we had to have nap-time. All the children lay on little cots with a blanket and told to rest and go to sleep. I was one of half a dozen kids who were so afraid of getting up at these times, so ended up wetting themselves. My shorts and undies would be taken off and put over the radiators or hung out to dry and I was put into a pair of pull-ups or disposable until ready to return home. Even when mum arrived home with some boy’s briefs she’d just bought and told me what a big boy I now was (I was at nursery after all) and that I’d be wearing them from that moment on, it didn’t happen. The following morning the briefs had gone and Julie had found some of her old childhood knickers, which she proceeded to dress me in. I didn’t care; it was all the same to me. I was glad to be out of my nappy as I was the last kid at the nursery still wearing one, but briefs or knickers, it made no difference to me as they were all the same. When I got home from nursery Julie would put me back into a nappy and plastic pants for the night “Just to be safe” she would say although I can never remember having any night time accidents. Although, perhaps I did but just can’t remember. Only once at school did I pee my pants in public and again it was when a boy pushed me over. I cried and pee’d myself at the same time. I didn’t like boys they were always making me cry. Most of my early life was being thankful to be home from school and back with Julie and her friends. They were always nice to me, dressing me up, telling me how sweet I was, and encouraging me to perform for them. Every time I learned anything at school I couldn’t wait to get home and show off. Whether it was a new word, a poem or some fact, I was always so excited to tell my audience of one, Julie, or all her friends if they were around. They always said how clever I was and I loved the fact that they loved and encouraged me so much. On the first day of a new school term I met a boy who I liked. We were both seven and the reason we sort of clicked was because we were both dressed the same. The school didn’t have a uniform as such but, where the other boys were in trousers or jeans, we were the only two boys in grey shorts and we were both wearing yellow polo shirts. We were so alike, even out hairstyles were almost the same that people thought we must be brothers. He said ‘Snap’ to me and I nervously smiled back. He then seemed to stick to me for the rest of the day and we chatted and, for the first time ever, I spent the entire day in another boy’s company and not with the girls. We played together and he wasn’t as rough as I found other boys. He seemed to like the same things I did but had a different way with going about it, whether that was at play or in class. He was definitely the leader of our small group of two and I was happy to follow that lead. By the end of the school day it was weird, all the way home all I could think about was the next day and being with Simon… Simon McKay. That feeling continued every school-day and even at weekend, although I was with Julie and her friends, I kept thinking about Simon and what we’d be doing on Monday… and I couldn’t wait. I became less and less interested in being dressed up. When we did P.E. in class I noticed, when we were changing, that Simon wore different underwear to me. Whereas mine was silky and often flowery, his were just cotton, often with a cartoon picture on the front and I wanted some like him. After a bit of pestering mum eventually bought me some and, as Julie wasn’t around at that moment, she gave them straight to me. It was a moment I treasured because from then on they were the only thing I wanted to wear and for the first time in my young life I refused to wear what Julie had organised for me. Often she got my clothes ready for school and she’d put out what she thought I should wear but now I argued and stamped my foot and cried to mum if I couldn’t wear my boy’s cotton underpants. Mum thought I should and I thought I should, it was only Julie that balked against it but she was loosing her influence and from then on, I wore my Simon influenced pants to school every day. I hadn’t fallen out with Julie it was just I didn’t join in her, or her friends, games anymore and she was growing up too, she was now 12, and didn’t need to be looking after her little brother as much. Danni - Part 3 - Simon One weekend I asked if Simon could come and stay over and mum said that was a terrific idea and that she’d make some cakes (well she actually bought them) and that we’d have a lovely time. We did but on the Sunday mum was called into her office for an emergency meeting and left Julie as usual in charge. It was a lovely warm day and Simon and I had been playing out in the garden. We’d been in and out of a little paddling pool, shooting our water pistols and running around laughing and screaming like lads do when Julie called for us to come in and get ready, as she’d planned a party. We were both dressed only in our shorts, which were sodden because of all the water fun we’d been having so we needed to change. Some of her girlfriends had arrived and it looked like it was going to be a big party as we saw the table being set with loads and loads of scrummy food. As we rushed upstairs to grab a towel and dry off, the girls followed us up to my room. There, laid out on my bed were girl’s clothes. Before either Simon or I knew it, we were being stripped out of our wet shorts and dressed up as I had been when I was younger. I really didn’t mind as it never occurred to me that anything was wrong but Simon fought and kicked. He screamed and cried as he was forced into his disposable nappy and plastic pants but as I didn’t see what the fuss was I allowed myself to be clothed in that fashion. However, it wouldn’t have mattered as the girls were so much bigger and we both ended up dressed as little girls going to a party. Julie had gone to a lot of trouble to have an absolute feast ready, which I loved, but Simon complained and wasn’t going to be “nice” as Julie and her friends put it. However, once he saw that I wasn’t causing an argument he calmed down a bit to snaffle the sandwiches, buns, jelly and ice cream. Julie’s friends were all older now but still seemed to have enjoyed their fun in dressing up two little boys. They were all compliments and praise so before he knew it Simon had forgotten about what he was wearing, just enjoying the food and games that Julie and her chums had organised. The time passed quickly and we were all having fun but then a surprise came when there was a knock on the door - Simon’s mum had arrived early to pick him up. She was shocked to see the type of games we played with him dressed in a girl’s pretty party dress, a bit of make-up, wearing girl’s shoes and socks… and not forgetting a thick nappy and matching plastic pants. Mrs McKay initially appeared speechless as Julie welcomed her in and told her what a delight her son was to have as a guest in her (yes her) house and how he’d been such a good sport joining in my (yes my) dressing up game. There were other parts of the conversation between the two I didn’t quite catch as I went over to Simon initially to take him back up to my room to change. Simon was horrified, standing in the hallway almost scared to say or do anything. He was so shocked that his mother should have seen him dressed as he was he didn’t know what to do or where to put himself. But she was a smart woman and said something to the effect that he looked lovely but there was no time for him to change as they had to get home. Julie handed his mum his rucksack that he’d come with and told her that he’d been playing in the pool and all his clothes were wet. However, she suggested, that if Mrs McKay was in a rush she could take him as he was and return the clothes he was wearing later. She took about 10 seconds to respond and then said “Come on Poppet, we have to be at your Aunty Jean’s later… so we’d better get you home and ready.” A very shy and embarrassed boy dressed in a pink and blue party dress, with matching nappy and frilly plastic pants - Julie was a stickler for making sure everything was co-ordinated - was dumbstruck as his mother held out her hand and gestured they were leaving. He never said any goodbyes, just slowly walked as if he was being led out to the executioner. He was sobbing and reticent to go but his mum gently took his hand and eased him out to the car. We all stood and waved him off and, now in retrospect, I suspect that there was an air of triumph about Julie, a sort of getting back at the boy who had replaced her as the most important person in my life. As I say, I wasn’t aware of such a thought at the time but once Simon was gone I wasn’t in much of a mood to continue playing games but of course Julie and her friends were and insisted that I join in. I was no match on my own to a bunch of demanding, older girls so I complied… like I always did. For me the dressing up game continued as I was stripped and re-clothed in different outfits that the girls had brought along. They thought it great fun to get me to wear items that they had worn at my age… the game went on for hours. Mum didn’t get home until late that night and I ended up going to bed wearing a pale blue, satin, baby-doll nightie one of the girls had brought and a very thick nappy, which seemed to emphasise the billowing nature of the fabric. I was just too shattered to do anything but submit to Julie and her friend’s wishes. They said I looked ‘lovely’ and in all honesty, I wasn’t bothered what I wore so, after kissing and thanking everyone for coming (Julie was a stickler for manners) I said my goodnights and toddled off to bed; the girls saying how nice my silky pale blue knickers looked over my nappy as I climbed the stairs. I think I was a glutton for compliments because I slowed my climb so I could hear more of their praise for how good I looked. Julie came and tucked me in and told me what a nice boy Simon was and how much she liked him and hoped we’d be seeing him again. I fell asleep hugging my teddy bear, thinking about Simon and how good he looked as we’d run around the garden in just our shorts. I couldn’t wait to see him at school the following morning. Danni - Part 4 – All change for Simon The journey home for Simon hadn’t gone too well. His mum had decided to call in at the supermarket for a few items and despite his protestation she had insisted that he accompany her as she had no intention of leaving him alone in the car. In the store, his young petulance and frustrations led to him being noisy and defiant to his mum’s request for him to behave. His bad behaviour only ended when his mum, who had never done it before, slapped his well-padded bottom and told him to be a good boy. Up until that moment the rest of the shoppers had just thought that the poor frustrated and uptight lady had a misbehaving little daughter to contend with, now they realised ‘she’ was an annoying and disruptive little boy. With the eyes of all the shoppers now on him, Simon was in floods of embarrassed tears, especially when he was gawped at by a bunch of kids his own age who were all laughing at him and pointing at his obvious nappy, which was showing beneath his dress. Mrs McKay was still a bit angry with her son but finished her shopping with a thoroughly chastised and sobbing, though acquiescent, little boy in a dress following her around. She pointed out to him that if he hadn’t been acting up no one would have been any the wiser. Unfortunately for Simon the humiliation didn’t stop once they left the store, his mother had decided to go directly to visit her sister Jean so her son was even more horrified when they pulled up outside her house. Once again, he sulkily refused to leave the car but his mother, in a tone that was in no way ambiguous, told him that she’d make him wear girl’s clothes all the time if he started acting up again. The weeping Simon was almost dragged out of the car and into his auntie’s home where he sat sullenly while his mum and her sister caught up on all the gossip. His thick nappy and plastic pants were difficult to hide as his dress rode up and he shuffled around in his seat impatiently hoping for a quick end to this visit. Aunty Jean herself was a bit shocked to begin with but after her sister had told her what had happened she simply said that her nephew ‘looked very nice’. She was very encouraging and in fact, she wondered if this wasn’t an opportunity for her sister to have the daughter she always wanted – even if only for just a short time. The sister’s were on the same wave-length because that was exactly what his mother thought and was determined to have her ‘little girl’ for as long as she could. Strange that it had never occurred to her before to simply dress her son up but now, thanks to Simon’s friend Danni, who appeared to enjoy dressing that way, she might be able to dress him herself… when she felt the need to have a ‘daughter’ around. She appreciated that he would take quite a bit of training to achieve that but, it looked like a start had been made and was sure that with time she could mould her son into occasionally being the daughter she’d always wanted. The trip to the supermarket had been the beginning as she bought a whole batch of disposable nappies and protecting pants. She also found some sweet girlie clothes and pyjamas that she thought would look really nice on him. Simon’s young life changed on that day and Mrs McKay… well she’d never been happier. After initial tears, tantrums and childish defiance was met by a far more steely and authorative attitude from his mother, Simon soon learned that disobedience was a painful option and meant longer dressed as a little girl in a nappy so eventually, because it made his mother happy, he did as he was told. Unfortunately, for Simon/Simone the periods of time as a girl got longer and longer as his wardrobe of pretty clothes his mother enjoyed buying got larger and larger. As all the boyish things; his clothes and toys, got replaced it soon became apparent to Mrs McKay that she couldn’t keep her son at the same school so, decided to teach him herself. From that moment on it was Simone, her daughter, who played with other little girls in the garden. No boys allowed, not even young Danni, which she regretted but thought that he held too many memories for her son… now that he was ‘happy’ as a girl. Danni – Part 5 – Return of the boy toy I didn’t see Simon again, the teacher said that his mum was now home-schooling him, which greatly upset me. I still found it difficult to make friends with others in class so I immersed myself in painting and music. I tried to learn to play the recorder, which Julie said was an instrument of torture when I tried to practice in my bedroom. Often, if she was around, she would distract me with one of her games and even though I was getting older, she still had me dressed either in some of her old clothes or in a nappy so she and her friends could practice changing me and in so doing become ‘good mummies’ for when they had babies of their own. My rebellious streak had disappeared as quickly as Simon and my ‘big boy briefs’ and it was back to normal in our household. Julie redoubled her insistence that at night I was to wear protection. She even doubled the thickness of my nappy and I found bedtime a bit of an ordeal but she wouldn’t let me wear pyjamas; a thick nappy and plastic pants were all I was allowed with an occasional t-shirt if I was lucky. In retrospect I was being punished but of course, all the ‘love’ and ‘attention’ she was lavishing on me was for her benefit. She even told mum that I’d begun to wet the bed again, “No doubt caused by the stress of school”, she added sympathetically, so my dear mother didn’t object to me being put to bed dressed the way I was. She believed anything that Julie said, and why shouldn’t she, her daughter had more of less brought me up so why would she possibly lie. One night I did wet myself, having been given a huge glass of cola just before I went to bed. Julie had come into my room, checked on my nappy, felt that I was wet and had slipped away pretending she didn’t know. Somehow she’d managed to get mum to check on me so she was able to discover for herself why her son needed to keep his protection on at night. I couldn’t deny I had wet myself, so I couldn’t fight what was coming next. Mum, Julie and I went shopping for new summer clothes. I was quite excited as I thought I’d get to choose a new outfit and I’d seen some of the boys in class wearing t-shirts with action figures on that I liked. In fact, the film that the characters were from had spawned a huge range of clothing for boys and girls and I hoped that mum would buy me some. Julie had got me ready and insisted that I now wear a nappy when we were out, as she said, “Just to be on the safe side.” I was relieved that she hadn’t made me wear a dress but there was absolutely no doubt what I had on under my shorts. The bulge and the fact that my shorts were very short so my nappy and plastic pants could easily be seen broadcast to everyone who was interested that I was a seven year-old (almost 8) who still wet himself. We visited a big, out-of-town mall so that mum could do all her shopping in one place. I stayed with mum as she looked around for clothes to buy for herself and no matter how much I tried to ask for things, the answer was always “Later” or “Maybe” or “Let’s wait for Julie”. Meanwhile, Julie was secretly buying stuff for me. She just filled up the trolley with the items she wanted, no matter what it was, and mum would just pay for it, such was the trust mum had with her. At one point I think mum had got so fed up with me whinging on about a new t-shirt with the film character on it, she relented and bought it for me. I was so excited and grateful I didn’t complain for the rest of the visit. The mall was quite busy and we were there for a long time. I noticed other kids sniggering and pointing to my nappy hanging down from my shorts but there was nothing I could do about it and I noticed Julie was smiling at every comment. When I asked mum if I could go to the toilet she said it was miles away from where we were so, why didn’t I use the nappy as that’s what it was designed for. I was shocked at such an idea but Julie was in agreement with mum and after trying to keep it in for ages, in the end I just couldn’t any longer. I was waiting in line at the cash register when I felt the first involuntary spurt but once it started I couldn’t hold back and I flooded my nappy, which seemed to swell in my shorts. Thankfully, the plastic pants seemed to act as a barrier and my shorts gave no indication of what I’d done. However, once we’d passed the checkout Julie noticed I was walking differently and without asking, she pulled down my shorts and checked my nappy. “Ughhh, Danni’s wet himself again,” she said. “Don’t worry I’ll change him.” Mum smiled her thanks and Julie gripped my hand, grabbed one of the bags and dragged me to a toilet opposite where we were. If I’d know I could have easily made it that far but I didn’t and now it was just too convenient for Julie. There was a baby’s changing room attached and there were two or three mothers in their taking care of their young off-spring. They were babies or toddlers and I was by far the eldest but that didn’t stop Julie picking me up, despite my protest, and laying me out on the plastic foam table. I was telling her it could wait until we got home but she was adamant that I was to be changed there and then. Of course, stupidly I had thought that we hadn’t brought any extra nappies with us, and of course we hadn’t, but she had been busy buying and I now found out what was in the bags. I was acting up and the fact that there was an audience didn’t stop me shouting that I didn’t want to be changed. I saw the sympathy on the faces of the other mother’s as this ‘poor young girl’ had to deal with this objectionable, noisy, belligerent boy… who she was only trying to clean-up and make dry. However, when Julie said that I’d get smacked if I didn’t calm down and let her get on with it, I could tell from the way she was looking at me that I’d better not push her. The defiance left me as her determined face left me in no doubt that any more disruption, argument or noise would result in a smack. The second I gave in she whipped off my shorts, pulled down the plastic pants and released my soaked nappy. The cool air rushing about my boyish ‘willie’ felt peculiar after the warm embrace of my pee-filled protection, however, as she opened a carton of wet-wipes and proceeded to clean me - front and back she was not interested in my obvious humiliation. Julie realised she had no powder and asked a nearby lady, who was just finishing sprinkling some over her baby girl, if she could spare some. The woman smiled and handed it to her, which was followed by a few of the other women offering help. Lotion, oil and extra padding were all offered and she happily took the lot. Thanking everyone and saying how kind they all were, helping her and her ‘unfortunate incontinent brother’. I didn’t know at the time what the word meant but the women’s look of pity on my sister told me I’d either been very naughty, or they thought she was some kind of martyr. Some of the mothers had left but one or two hung around just in case she needed any further help. However, she couldn’t have planned it better as she pulled out a huge terry nappy, folded it into a triangle and placed it under my well powdered bottom. Then seeing that she had two thick absorbent pads that had been given to her by the mums still milling around she folded them into the nappy and pulled the entire thing up between my legs. It was huge and spread my legs far apart but she wasn’t finished. The plastic pants were retrieved from the soggy pile and, with some difficulty, pulled into place. Now she pulled off my top and fed my arms into a new, clean t-shirt she produced from her bag. She pulled it down and only when it was in place did I notice the childish images of animals all over it. I was about to protest but I noticed that look in her eye and held my tongue. Suddenly she was fastening some press-studs between my legs and I was wearing, what looked to me when I saw my reflection in the mirror, like a large baby-grow. This was too much and I started screaming and shouting at her. There was only one mum left and she was exiting as I started acting up. With a look of absolute malice Julie threw my soggy nappy and shorts into the bin, dragged me to my feet, spanked my padded bum and in no uncertain terms told me to behave. Although it didn’t hurt I was in shock, in all the time we’d been brother and sister she had hardly so much as raised her voice to me. This sudden turn of events cowed me completely and I meekly did what she wanted. She told me to agree with anything she said to mum or she’d spank my bare bottom when we got home. So, there I was, in a mall, in a thick, thick nappy and looking more babyish than I ever remember when I was a baby and my sister was looking pleased with herself. She told my mother that there had been loads of mothers changing their children in the room and things had got misplaced or taken in the confusion. My shorts and top had gone missing but thankfully a couple of the women had helped and offered some items they had… so that was how I ended up looking the way I did. The way Julie told the tale it all sounded so plausible. I’m not sure how much, or if indeed any of it she believed, but mum said she was just thankful that I’d been dressed in something. However, I was led through the mall, waddling with difficulty in my extremely bulky nappy and wearing baby clothes. Julie was holding tightly onto my hand and occasionally whispering threats to me if I didn’t stop looking so miserable. It was difficult to be cheerful and I suppose, not surprisingly, I started to sob. I think this little touch added to my babyishness and was the cherry on the cake for Julie. Danni – Part 6 – Crime and Punishment Being brought up by Julie had made me the boy I was. I wasn’t one for games, in fact, other than with Simon I had hardly played with any other boys of my age. They scared me and with Julie’s protection, I’d never needed to toughen up. Some might say I was lucky to have such a sister, and indeed, I never thought anything other than that but, as we both got older it was as if she didn’t want me to grow up. She was making things up that I did or didn’t do when she spoke to mum, and mum, being mum, believed everything she said or suggested. It wasn’t that mum wasn’t bothered it was just that she’d left me in Julie’s hands for so long, she had no idea how I should be. If I complained to her about having to wear something she always made me remember how much I’d enjoyed dressing up before. When I think about it, I always did have a smile on my face as me and Julie had played her dressing-up games. I didn’t know any better but mum now saw it as “Just the way you are”. I think she thought it was what I wanted and I liked all that kind of thing; being dressed as a girl or being babied by all her friends. In many ways I suppose I did, or at least it never worried me but, I’d begun to want the same as what the boys at school had. At school I was introduced to the choir and found that I loved singing in assembly as much as I’d enjoyed singing in front of Julie and her chums. The teachers thought I was very good and began to offer me more and more songs to take the lead on. I was very nervous about being pushed forward but Miss Simms, the music teacher gently coaxed me and, perhaps because she was a woman, I did as I was told. It was OK if I was surrounded by the rest of the choir and I was just one amongst a group but when I had my solo I became quite scared. I’m not sure why but it was worse if mum or Julie were watching and on one occasion I peed my pants centre stage. Julie saw what I’d done and because of the sudden appearance of a wet spot on the front of my shorts she leapt into action. Even before Miss Simms could come to my assistance Julie was up on the stage and gently leading me off, her words full of sympathy, but her firm grip telling me otherwise. How she knew what would happen I do not know but I was led to a classroom, my shorts and briefs taken down and she rummaged in her schoolbag and produced a disposable nappy. She had no powder or lotions this time but just wrapped me in it, pulled it up between my legs, fastened the sticky tabs in place and yanked me to my feet. A few fellow pupils had gathered in the doorway to watch the proceedings and Miss Simms was trying to get through the cordon. I could see the sympathy in her eyes but Julie just said that she wasn’t to worry, no one blamed her for my distress and that she was sure no real harm was done. Miss Simms was taken aback at this slight but as Julie had already grabbed my hand and was ushering me away from the cluster of kids (and associated parents) she hadn’t formulated a response as Julie hurried me to mother’s car waiting to pick us up. It was my moment of achievement… something I’d done without Julie… or mum and I’d wet myself. I was crying as we got into the car and mum was wondering what had happened. A very empathetic Julie explained how I was ‘brilliant’ and was singing ‘beautifully’, when I just peed myself. Again, all the words she said sounded like she was so sorry for me but I knew that she loved every minute of my humiliation. As I sat down she even apologised to mum that she hadn’t got any plastic pants for me to wear to protect the car seat… and suggested that in future we should all carry a spare pair for just such emergencies. Mum just nodded to Julie, tried to cheer me up with the offer of ice cream, tickled me under the chin and told me that I was her ‘special little boy’. I was sobbing quietly in the back seat with Julie gently stroking my hand and telling me not to worry, and that lots of boys my age had these accidents. Fine soothing words for her but quite terrifying for me as it gave her another excuse to keep me in nappies. It also meant that from that moment on Julie would insist that I wear protection for school, as, she explained to mum, she didn’t see why the teachers should have to deal with my ‘damp spells’. Again mum nodded in agreement and Julie suggested that we call in and get some suitable protection on the way home. As we pulled into the shopping centre car park I didn’t want to get out but both mum and Julie were adamant I couldn’t sit there alone. I weepily suggested that Julie stayed with me but she said that she had things she wanted to buy. There was no way round it… I walked into the pharmacy and to the nappy section wearing my bright and dry disposable. There was absolutely no doubt as to what we were there to buy. Julie found a huge case of pull-ups about my size and took them over to mum. She also found some cloth nappies, pins and a couple of pairs of colourful plastic pants. She added tubs of baby powder and lotion. I was filled with embarrassment and had my eyes glued to the ground throughout the entire proceedings. Even at the cash desk, as mum paid and Julie held all the products, I couldn’t look at the teenage lad who was on check out as I was certain he would be laughing at me. Just before he rang through the pull-ups he asked mum if she wanted to change them as they were for young girls, they had cartoon princesses all over them, apparently, there were some with cars on for little boys. But an exasperated sound came from Julie who was already on her way out with the rest of the stuff so mum just shrugged and the lad beeped them through. Mum had said that we were going to get ice cream but I hadn’t thought she meant in a public place and as we drove into the café that was my favourite location because of its selection of flavours I began to cry again saying I didn’t now want any ice cream. Mum was about to turn around but Julie said that even if I didn’t she would like some and also implied I was lying and that I was just being silly. “What little boy didn’t want ice cream?” The fact was I did but not dressed as I was. Julie was very quick. “Is it because you’re only wearing a disposable?” I nodded. “Would you be OK if we put you in something else?” Again I nodded almost beginning to cheer up at the prospect of the big sundae I was planning on treating myself to. “OK then, that’s what we’ll do.” So as mum went off to order our tasty treats Julie set about changing me in the back of the car. I was relieved when the disposable came off and she wiped me dry with some of the wipes we’d just bought. She powdered me and was all ‘loving’ and ‘sweet’ as she massaged it in, then she delved into the case of pull-ups and unfurled it. At that moment I wasn’t thinking about the image on it, all I knew was that it was more like wearing underpants than a nappy, but once I was in them she opened the door and dragged me out. I was standing wearing just a pair of princess pull-ups and a white school polo shirt. “There,” she said triumphantly, “fit for a… prince… ess” and led me to the café. She gave me that grip and a very stern warning not to upset mum by acting up or crying and said that if I did she would spank me herself when we got home… and… she inferred… after today’s performance and the expense and the embarrassment to her and mum… no doubt mum would spank me too. The café was full of kids all enjoying their selection of fruity flavours and I was just another tasty morsel that they could enjoy by laughing and tittering as I walked by. It was the worst, and longest, ice cream I’d ever had and I did cry and… wet myself. Needless to say, Julie pointed this out to mum and, as I was bawling my eyes out, it was agreed that I was getting worse and perhaps stronger protection may be needed. The princesses, not able to withstand my soggy torrent, meant I had to ride back home in a very wet pull-up. Danni – Part 7 – Julie’s Power There was no doubt about it, Julie had me cowed and I was at her bidding no matter what. She encouraged me to sing in the choir but warned me against Miss Simms placing too much pressure on me (she had said it was the pressure to perform that had made me wet myself, and I believed her). She told me that boys would only take advantage of my sweet temperament (her words) so basically the only person who was looking out for me was her. She kept going on about when I was a baby how much fun I was, how much I enjoyed the games we played and how much I liked being looked after. She thought because of all the ‘trauma’ of growing up and the ‘problems’ it was causing, she should let me be a “baby” again. It was a time she said I was happiest. I somehow knew that all the ‘trauma’ and ‘problems’ were as a result of the way she treated me but I wasn’t able to offer much in the way of resistance and that meant I was back to being her baby… her toy. I was wearing nappies or pull-ups permanently – for bed, for school, for trips, for, well everything. I had given up fighting Julie she was a force I could not defeat and I wasn’t equipped for battle, I just gave in and did what she wanted. After all, I had no real say in what was going on, it kept her in a good mood and mum seemed happy that my ‘problem’ was now well contained. I was so compliant, and mum so comfortable with the way things currently existed, she even patted my well-padded bottom before we went anywhere and smiled contentedly that everything was ‘okay’. I took it as natural; this was how it was meant to be even if all the other kids in my class didn’t wear nappies and such. Julie said that the reason I did was because I was ‘special’, that I was better than any of the other kids because I had a loving sister who only wanted the very best for her sweet little baby brother. In my own small way I did try to rebel because I didn’t like to wear a wet nappy. When she wasn’t around I always made it to the bathroom in time by sliding my hand up my shorts, struggling valiantly with the padding before pulling out my willy and doing what I had to do in the toilet. Not having a wet nappy when she checked me was a small victory but I think it annoyed her slightly. However, one day we were playing in the park and I needed to go so I suggested a game of hide and seek. The idea was that I would hide first; she would count to 50 and then attempt to find me. Cleverly, I thought, I could quickly hide behind a bush, release my willy and do it before she came and found where I was hiding. Alas, I struggled longer than I thought with the tight fitting nappy and as I nervously peed into the bushes she came up behind me. “You naughty, dirty boy,” she screamed… and I froze in mid flow. “In public, how disgusting.” She grabbed my arm, pulled down my pants and nappy and spanked me hard on my bare bottom. This time it did hurt and my pleading and screaming I was sorry was having no effect as she reddened my bum cheeks. It was all over in a matter of seconds but I was crying for real and she had managed to make me feel terribly ashamed of myself. I was still crying as she removed my t-shirt and I was led naked back to our blanket on the ground where we’d been picnicking. People were looking but no one said anything as she lay me out and re-fitted the old disposable I had been wearing. She pulled it tight and taped me firmly in place then she did something I will never forget – she poured a whole can of fizzy orange juice down the front. I couldn’t stop her and as the nappy absorbed the liquid, the thing expanded and changed from white to a very obvious pale orange. It felt massive between my legs - it was also cold, sticky, wet and it set me off crying even more. “You’ve been a very dirty… naughty… disgusting boy.” She threatened as I sat wondering what I was going to do. “This will be your punishment until we get home so everyone can see just what a naughty, dirty little baby brother I have.” I was both ashamed and inconsolable because she’d made me feel that it was my fault that I had made her do what she’d done and that of course, it was for my own good. I had to learn to be “a good obedient little boy”. Walking the half mile or so home she wouldn’t let me wear anything but the messy orange nappy. It wasn’t very nice to walk in and of course I was waddling trying to keep up as she all but dragged me home. At the door she told me in no uncertain terms that mum would be furious about my shameful peeing in public and that she wouldn’t be at all surprised if she also spanked me. I was terrified of entering my own home. Of course I had to promise to be good, do exactly as I was told and, more importantly, use the nappy when I needed to go. She said she wouldn’t tell mum about what I’d done if I agreed and ‘swore an oath.’ I wasn’t sure what that was but as she said it was the most solemn promise, that even God would punish if I broke, it was the only thing she said that would stop her from telling mum. Of course I agreed and repeated the oath that Julie made me swear ‘on my life’ to uphold. Once through the door mum wondered why I’d been crying and why was I only wearing a very soggy nappy. Julie looked down at me and said it was another one of my ‘accidents’ and that she didn’t have a spare disposable to change me and she didn’t want all my other clothes to get messy. Mum looked pitifully at me and I saw sympathy in her eyes. “You poor little thing.” She hugged me to her. “Never mind, you are home now… I’ll take care of you.” Julie tried to intervene. “It’s OK mum, I’ll see to him,” she seemed a little worried that her orange scam might be found out. “I have a fresh nappy in my room for him…” “You do enough Julie,” mum said taking hold of my hand and leading me upstairs. “I think I’ll change my sweet boy.” Julie was left to worry about any possible outcome but she should have been confident in her powers and influence over me as I never said a word against her as mum cleaned me up. As my room was now, thanks to Julie, more or less a nursery, all there was lying around were pull-ups or disposables (my thick cloth nappies Julie always kept in my underwear draw - or what had once been my underwear draw). So mum, still thinking I had a wetting problem, cleaned me up, powdered me and fitted me into a clean and tight disposable, and asked if I was okay. My tears had stopped but my bottom still smarted from Julie smacks so I just nodded. She wondered if I wanted to take a nap as I looked worn out. I wasn’t tired but I thought it might be best if I hid myself away for a little while so as mum tucked me in I gave her a kiss and said I was sorry. “It’s OK sweetheart,” she whispered back, “It’s not your fault, accidents happen. You just have a nap and then things won’t seem so bad.” Everything seemed nice when mum was like this but I still couldn’t tell her anything, after all, I just sworn an oath, on pain of my death, if I revealed just what had actually happened. No Julie had me and I was now, if I was in any doubt, completely under her control. Over the next few weeks Julie upped her game. Her idea for my clothing was a thick nappy, pink or blue plastic pants and tiny shorts that gave no hiding place for my protection. For bed she had me thickly nappied, often wearing a footed onesie that had a zip up the back (so I couldn’t remove it even if I’d wanted to), which had been a surprising addition to my wardrobe, as had a short onesie that fastened with press studs between my legs. Where these items had appeared from I didn’t know but I had expertly been returned to my infanthood even though my eighth birthday was rapidly approaching. My loving sister had got me all excited about my birthday. She said she had planned a party for me and wondered if there was anyone special who I’d like to invite. I told her Simon if she could get an invitation to him. She enthused back that she was positive he’d love to come and she’d make an extra effort to ensure he received his invite. She even had me write a special ‘please come’ on the bottom of his card, which I then watched her drop in the post box. Danni – Part 8 – Birthday Surprises The morning of my birthday I woke up very excited and, to Julie’s obvious pleasure, completely soaked. She unzipped and let me out of my onesie but left me in my soggy nappy whilst she went off to get something. She’d been doing this a few times now and I hadn’t realised what was going on. However, I now noticed that when she left mum would come in, see the drooping nappy, look sympathetically at me but it would also confirm all that my sister had been telling her about her continually wetting little baby brother. Then we’d cuddle, she’d murmur some soothing words, while I felt like a guilty little toddler who’d let her down. Julie would then breeze back in armed with whatever she’d decided I was to wear, whilst I would be too embarrassed to protest and mum would leave her to get me ready for the day ahead. It wasn’t really surprising that I was waking up wet more and more often as Julie had been feeding me warm drinks last thing at night whilst she told me stories. I have to admit that this was one of the things I really did enjoy, when she made up stories that had me in the starring role. I’d be enthralled but she would say that I had to finish my drink if I wanted her to continue and, before I knew it vast amounts of some wonderfully flavoured liquid would have been consumed. My bedtime was seven o’clock, this was one of my sister’s rulings, as she decreed little boys need their sleep and, because I nearly always got a story and something sweet to drink, I was happy to comply. Mum would often stand at the doorway and listen to the tales that Julie told and she’d see me in my bed, smiling and enthusing about some aspect of the story, so she witnessed herself that all was well. I think it was at these moments when, whatever doubts she might have had about me being in anyway unhappy about my ‘situation’, they were alleviated by what she saw as the ‘wonderful and loving’ interaction between her daughter and her obviously consenting son. There was undoubtedly more times than not when I thought Julie was the cleverest and most thoughtful person in the world and these especially were just such times when I loved my sister. I also loved Saturday mornings when my favourite TV programme was on, a cartoon about Greek heroes, which I found really fascinating. I was so keen on these historical adventures that Julie had been able to adapt some of them in her stories so that Hercules and I could battle together, or I’d be part of Jason and the Argonauts crew. She was very good at getting me participating, and being a major force, in these myths and legends. I was often so engrossed in what was on the screen that I regularly ended up watching in just a damp nappy before being dressed appropriately. On that point I have to say it was not an issue anymore - I was used to it, mum was used to it and Julie made sure I didn’t make a mess or act-up (and repeatedly said that it was ‘just the way I am’ to mum). Not that I would dare to act-up because just one of her ‘looks’ would have had me shrinking from any form of argument. Having said that, it all became natural and normal, what was expected so how could I object to it anyway? It was just the way it was in our house, much the same as it was for whatever way Julie decided to have me dressed. Even on this day as an 8 year-old (yeah my birthday), I was left to run around the house wearing only my thick pull-ups with the cartoon princess on the front. Mum said I could open my cards and presents that had already been delivered before my party got underway later in the afternoon. Earlier in the week mum had asked if I wanted anything special and, as I’d been playing around on the piano at school during choir practice, I asked for a little keyboard. After breakfast I rushed from the kitchen into the living room where mum’s present was. The place was full of balloons wishing me a Happy Birthday and there were some cards waiting, a few wrapped gifts but the main one was surrounded by a huge gold bow. Excitedly I pulled at the wonderful decoration, which revealed a small, but expensive looking, electric piano. I couldn’t believe that mum had got me such a fine instrument and couldn’t wait to try it out. We plugged it in and I promptly played a few bars from a song we’d been learning in class. Mum was amazed at how well I could play. In fact, it was something I’d only recently found out myself… that I could pick out notes on the piano then Miss Simms showed me the chords. Pretty soon, once I’d heard a tune or song, I could pick it up very quickly and loved being able to do so. I didn’t realise that I had a talent as it was something that just came naturally. I hugged mum with thanks - I was so happy I wriggled joyfully in her embrace as she patted my padded bum and kissed the top of my head. Julie said that I wasn’t going to get her present until the party, which I thought was typical of her, keeping me on the verge of excitement, wondering what it could be. She didn’t let on. About noon the caterers came to set up for the party. Mum and Julie had been planning a Superheroes theme (although I didn’t know that at the time) and my organising sister had been on the phone almost permanently sorting things out. I’d heard clips of conversation but as soon as she saw that I was in earshot she whispered so I couldn‘t hear or hung up. It was all very secretive and I was getting very excited indeed. After watching my TV programme (about Zeus) I played on my new piano and was surprised at being able to make stuff up that sounded, to me at least, quite good. As the caterers began to set out the tables under an awning in the garden Julie ushered me upstairs out of the way. She ran a bath and filled it full of bubbles. Now, ever since I was a baby I have just loved bubbles and enjoyed hiding and playing in amongst them whilst I was bathed by either her or mum. Even if I was in the park and another kid was blowing bubbles you’d find me chasing after them, popping each as I tried to capture them. It was one of those things that Julie always knew to do if I was in a mood (which was rarely) or wanted to keep me entertained. Yeah Bubbles! She helped me out of my surprisingly damp pull-ups and lifted me into the foam. I sat in the bath and I piled bubbles all over my head, made beards, pretended it was thick fog and my toy boats had to manoeuvre their way through the ‘mists’ and ‘icebergs’. I was having fun and must have been in there for quite some time as it was relatively cool when eventually Julie, who had left me to it whilst she went off to ‘supervise’ (her word) the caterers, returned with a thick towel. Although I was quite capable of doing things for myself, if she was around, then she was in charge and I acquiesced and let her get on with it. She thoroughly rubbed me dry, covered me in lotion and massaged it in and then finally added a comprehensive sprinkling of powder to all my ‘boy’ parts. She wrapped me in the towel and I was guided to my room where she had prepared a surprise. “Happy Birthday,” she sang as I became aware of just what she’d done. Laid out on my bed was a short tunic with gold braid. I was flabbergasted. I couldn’t believe it. She continued, “This is my present,” she looked at my awestruck expression, “I know how much you like this stuff… so I thought I’d get you something special.” I hugged my sister so tightly and I have to say there were tears of joy in my eyes as I thanked her but I was speechless. She held me until she thought I’d calmed down a bit then suggested that I try it on and get ready to receive my guests. I was spellbound. First she fastened me firmly into a white disposable, which I never gave a second thought about, then over that she pulled a shiny gold coloured nappy cover and checked that it fit nice and snug. Next she fitted the little white silky tunic around my waist and fed my arm through a shoulder strap. The material was soft and shiny with loads of pleats making it look like a short kilt. There was gold braiding along the edges, which appeared to match my new ‘underwear’. It made me feel really very special. I looked in the mirror once she’d finished checking that everything was in order and couldn’t believe it – I was dressed just like my hero Jason from the TV programme. She’d even got me a pair of gold sandals that fastened up my legs and to top it off, she added a gold laurel wreath for my hair. I’d been transformed from me… into a real Greek hero and I just could not believe how proud and courageous I felt. As I hugged and thanked my thoughtful sister again and again, she just gleefully patted my nicely padded bottom and said she was so glad I liked it and was what I deserved for being “…the best little baby brother in the world.” She’d also thoughtfully found a huge poster of Jason and the Argonauts from the TV series, which she said she’d hang up for me later, and who, apart from a small sword hanging from his waist, was dressed exactly like me. I twirled in front of the mirror. The gold sparkled, the shiny material glistened and even the new gold ‘protection’ shimmered and complemented the mythical look. The final thing was a little gold rope sash that was tightened around my waist, I thought I looked as good as Jason and wished I could join him and his men on one of their fantastic journeys. Julie nodded her approval as I spun and danced with joy. My party was in full swing. Nearly all my class mates, both boys and girls had come, as well as Julie’s girlfriends who after all I’d known all my life. It was these older girls who organised and supervised the games, the music and the fun. Most of the boys who came wore some form of fancy dress; super-heroes, cowboys, robots etc, whilst a few of the girls had also dressed as cartoon characters or animals. We all looked fantastic as we charged around the garden and I loved the way my costume hung from my shoulder, the material soft and looking completely unique. I was enjoying having something so special that had been made especially for me and was constantly imagining myself back in mythological times and being the favourite of one of the Athenian gods. One of the last people to arrive was Simon. At first I didn’t recognise him as he stood at the door gripping his mother’s hand. In fact, it was only because I recognised Mrs McKay that it quickly dawned on me who this nervous little girl was who held on to her so tightly. His hair was so much longer, he kept his eyes cast down in a shy, nervous kind of way and tried not to look at me. Mrs McKay was all smiles, “Wish Danni a Happy Birthday poppet.” He wriggled uncertainly as he clutched his mum with one hand and held a gift in the other. “Happy Birthday,” she continued before he son could say anything. “My you do look pretty Danni, is that a special birthday outfit you’re wearing?” I nodded as I took in the way Simon was dressed, he looked like a little girl. His jumper was pink with a large blue and pink butterfly on the front. His shorts were pale pink and covered in a blue and yellow butterfly design, which were held up with two matching straps over his shoulders that crossed at the back. His pink socks had ruffles at the ankle and he wore pink plastic sandals, which he nervously scuffed along the floor. I took all this in as he timidly whispered his “Happy Birthday” and offered me his gift. “Hello Si… erm…” I wasn’t sure what to call him but I went ahead anyway. “Hello Simon I’m so glad you could make it.” He looked up hesitantly and there was a fleeting smile. I held out my hand for him to take. “C’mon let’s get to the party.” He checked with his mother to make sure it was OK. She released his hand. “Enjoy yourself poppet… try not to make a mess of your clothes… go and join your friends.” Simon was definitely not the boisterous little lad who had played with me on that sunny weekend all those weeks ago. He walked slowly and hesitantly into the crowd and seemed relieved that none of his former school friends appeared to recognise him. He stuck close to me throughout the party but didn’t join in any of the games. It was strange that all the other boys ignored him but the girls wanted him to be in their group. He looked quite fearful when Julie and her friends came over to say ‘hello’. “Hello Simone,” they chorused. “You do look pretty.” “Love the butterflies.” “What lovely hair” and a host of similar comments interspersed with giggles. He had shut his eyes to what was being said and looked like he was on the verge of tears. I took him away from everyone and asked him what was wrong. “Mum likes me better as a girl,” he sobbed. “Since Julie and her friends dressed me up,” he paused as he wiped the snot from his nose, “mum won’t let me be a boy. I have to wear girl’s clothes” I tried to calm him but I didn’t have much to say. He looked at the shiny tunic I was wearing and said. “She’s done it to you as well…” At no point had I thought what I was wearing was anything but heroic. Jason and loads of Greek heroes wore similar things but his comment jolted my image of myself. He put his hand on my padded bum. “I have to wear knickers now… and… and…” He was still trying to get it out between sobs, “and sleep in a… a nappy and… a… a… nightie.” He buried his face in the crook of his arm and tried to hold back more tears. It was obviously upsetting the poor boy but alas to me none of this seemed a hardship as I’d been living like that all my life. However, I could see he was distressed so I hugged him close. Then in the quietest of voices he confessed he hadn’t wanted to come as he was scared of Julie and her friends and what they might do or say. However, his mum thought it was time he should be out and about (whether he wanted to or not) and had insisted he came. He said he was glad to see me again. He pulled at his tight-fitting butterfly shorts and said he wished he could wear his old briefs as the lacy ones he had to wear rode up and were so uncomfortable. I had liked it when I first met Simon and we’d charged around in just our shorts and had water-pistol fights and got ourselves thoroughly wet through, but I liked him now as well, it made no difference to me how he dressed and I told him so. I said I thought he looked nice. There was a faint smile from him and he seemed to become a bit more confident as we looked each other over. He rubbed the front of my shiny golden nappy and whispered that he thought I looked like “that Greek hero off the TV”, which brought a huge grin and a twirl from me. Danni – Part 9 – More Surprises Simon’s fear of Julie had got me thinking about just how cruel she could be sometimes. I had just accepted my circumstances and figured that’s what older sisters were like. I had no experience of others being different as all her friends were exactly the same in treating me like she did. I was their toy and now Simon was his mother’s toy and I wondered if all females were like that. However, Julie had made up fantastic stories for me, she had got this brilliant tunic as a special present, she’d even organised my marvellous party so, how could I be too upset with her? Wearing a nappy wasn’t so bad, although the embarrassment that went with it often was but, Julie… oh… I wasn’t sure what to think. Once I thought Simon had calmed down enough and wiped away his tears we returned to the party. There was a bouncy castle, a DJ, a juggler and my favourite, a young man who made the most enormous bubbles. He created the biggest I’d ever seen and he was able to put bubbles inside of other bubbles inside… well… he had me clapping wildly at some of the fabulous soapy things he created. The food was really very yummy and we piled into the ice-cream cake so that there was very little left by the end. The older girls organised several little teams and we had games against each other. Simon stayed with me the whole time and eventually relaxed enough to enjoy himself. I knew clothes were no barrier to that but I felt sorry for him as he was continually pulling at the crotch of his shorts trying to make his knickers more comfortable. Meanwhile, I’d never been happier, my nappy and cover were so comfortable and my tunic so fine and light to wear, it was if I had nothing on. Julie’s friend Annabel took loads of photographs of ‘Superman’ and ‘the Hulk’ on the bouncy castle with ‘Snow White’ and ‘Micky Mouse’ or me as ‘Jason’ leaping around with ‘Godzilla’, it was all super fun and she even got a photograph of all us Super Heroes together in one huge shot. Simon had become known as ‘The Butterfly Girl’ and he was constantly being called that if anyone wanted to get his attention. Quite often we called each other by the name of our costume as we charged around and ‘Butterfly Girl’ wasn’t an insult as, apart from Julie and her friends, no one else had realised he was Simon. Even when I did call him Simon when others were around they never seemed to catch on. The party was incredible from start to finish and I think that was mainly due to the effort that Julie and her friends had put into it. We never stopped eating, drinking or having fun and apart from Simon having a little weep with me, I think everyone enjoyed themselves. By six parents were coming to pick up their off-spring and my party began to wind down. Simon’s mum had stayed and chatted to my mum and sister though I have no idea what they talked about all that time. Anyway, he was one of the last to leave and, as his mum called for him he reluctantly wondered over to her and took her hand. I asked Mrs McKay if he could come and see me again soon and she said “that would be nice”. She straightened his shorts and jumper, thanked mum, Julie and me for inviting them both and for such an enjoyable time. “C’mon poppet,” she said as they were leaving, “it’s getting very near your bed time.” Simon gave a little resigned shrug of his shoulders and waved to me with a little smile. “Thank you Danni, have a nice rest of your birthday…” His voice trailed off as the door closed behind him. Mum also shrugged and under her breath I heard her comment “What a strange woman.” Within half an hour the house was back to normal and although I was exhausted I was also still in a state of some excitement as mum and me cuddled on the sofa whilst I watched a DVD I’d received as a present. She was saying how heroic I looked in my tunic and asked if I liked it too. I told her it was the best present… er… after the piano and that I loved it as well. I liked being Jason and I wanted to wear it all the time. “OK sweetheart,” she hugged me, “as long as you’re happy,” she stroked the material, then my hair and looked searchingly into my eyes. “Whatever makes you happy.” She beamed at me and I’d never felt more content. In fact I’d got loads of presents; chocolate, sweeties, action figures, DVDs, books, all kinds of stuff, which mum said I’d appreciate more in the morning when we’d organise my Thank You cards to everyone. While mum and I had been watching TV Julie had been chatting with her friends out in the garden (and I guess supervising the caterers and to make sure they didn’t steal anything). When she returned her friends had just left and my DVD was just finishing. “Shall I put Danni to bed mum?” Julie asked standing in the doorway. Mum looked at her watch. “Mmm if you don’t mind,” she’d been dozing as I’d cuddled up to her but I didn’t want to break away as I was just very relaxed and comfortable. “Aw mum, but I’m not tired. Let’s watch another DVD.” But mum wasn’t having any of my protest. “Go on, it’s past nine… and you’ve been dozing along with me,” she smiled knowing that was exactly what I’d been doing. There was no point in arguing further as Julie held out her hand and smiled. “C’mon, even heroes need their sleep.” In my room I begged Julie to let go to bed wearing the tunic but she said that it would get ruined as I tossed and turned in my sleep. She asked if I didn’t want to keep it as special and I had to admit that I did. She helped me out of it and hung it up. I asked if I could keep my golden pants but again she just lay me out and removed them. Surprisingly I was quite wet and hadn’t even noticed but Julie seemed to have been expecting it and whipped off my soaked disposable and wiped me dry. As usual, she was organised and I was powdered and lotioned in seconds. “I have another surprise for you,” she whispered reaching under my bed. “Annabel and Martine have made you something else… just for you and to celebrate your birthday.” I suddenly got excited at the prospect of another surprise gift and eagerly watched as she produced a further new outfit for me to wear. The first part of it was like a huge fluffy nappy, which Julie began to attach with relish. I had no idea what the girls had made it from but it was very thick and when she pulled it up between my legs to fasten it in place, I felt my legs being forced wide apart. I wanted to protest but a brief look in my eyes from Julie meant that wasn’t going to happen. She slipped an equally fluffy top (‘bodice’ she called it), up my arms and it fastened down the back, then added a baby’s bonnet, also in this fluffy material and buttoned it under my chin. “You look just perfect.” She smiled and produced a camera and quickly took some photographs. She had me crawl around the floor as she took many more. I wasn’t sure why I was complying as I wasn’t happy about this babyish outfit, but I found myself simply doing as I was told because it was Julie and she’d organised everything else. I suddenly thought of Simon being forced to wear something he didn’t like and how he cried when he thought he’d have to wear it forever. Julie was going on about how talented the girls were to design and make this all by themselves. She was saying how lucky I was to have such friends who made me special ‘pyjamas’ and how ‘adorable’ I looked. My fantastic birthday was now not so fantastic and thinking about poor Simon I wasn’t really that happy. Julie told me to stop pouting but that only made me pout more and she took more photographs. “OK baby boy,” she smiled, “bed time,” and pulled back the cover. There was a stuffed teddy in exactly the same outfit as I was wearing waiting to greet me. “In to bed now and you’ve got a special friend to sleep with.” I wasn’t happy but knew better than to create and begrudgingly clambered in with my new ‘friend’. She insisted I hugged the bear and took another photograph. “You really are a very lucky baby, getting all these people to do these things for you.” I didn’t know what she was talking about, “asking the girls to make you this as a special treat.” I still had no idea what she was on about. “You do look adorable but there’s one thing missing.” The huge nappy meant I could only move with difficulty and had to lie on my back. I wondered what the ‘one thing that was missing’ and she produced a dummy and slipped it between my lips. I immediately spat it out but Julie just pushed it straight back in. When I spat it out again she came up with another solution. “OK, do you want another story about Jason and the Argonauts?” No matter how angry or upset or uncomfortable I was, I always wanted to hear one of her stories and especially if it was about my hero. I sheepishly nodded. “OK then,” and she pushed the dummy back in, “if you spit it out again you’ll never get another story.” I knew I was beaten so I just sucked it in and settled down to Julie setting the scene for her next tale. It was strange because as she told her story I found myself excitedly sucking on the dummy and feeling really comforted by the huge nappy and fluffy ‘bodice’ and bonnet. I knew I must look like a big baby but as the tale progressed it didn’t bother me at all and I soon settled and fell asleep. No doubt Julie took more photographs of me as I slept with a dummy in my mouth and hugging my teddy. # Danni – Part 10 – More Surprises still Standing at the prow of his ship, ‘Jason’ navigated his way through the tumultuous seas. In the distance a small white glow was the beacon to where he was heading. His short, shimmering tunic flapped around in the wind lifting up and revealing… butterfly knickers? On closer inspection it was the face of Simon staring out intently at the growing white light as the island approached. Now the glow was revealed, the much searched for fleece was in fact… me hanging in a tree… wearing what my sister had dressed me in. Simon looked terrific in my tunic as he strode up to the tree armed with his sword and… “Wake up babykins…” Julie was gently shaking me from my dream. “Wakey-wakey, rise and shine, let’s get you…” I yawned, rubbed my eyes and suddenly realised I was still sucking on the dummy. “You’re so sweet in your fab new pyjamas,” she kissed my forehead. “You look like you’ve had quite a night,” she said as she pulled down my bedding and checked my nappy. For the first time in quite some time my bed was soaked. Thankfully I’d been sleeping on a rubber sheet for some time so it was just me and the bedding that suffered. “Mmmm, better get you cleaned up and this stuff put in the washing machine. Your new jammies aren’t very waterproof.” I could hear her mutter under her voice about thicker protection and plastic pants next time. I’m not too sure why I had wet so much, although the stormy seas I’d just been dreaming about may have given some clue. Jason and the search for the Golden Fleece had been the story that Julie had been telling me last thing but I wasn’t sure how Simon had ended up as ‘Jason’. He was wearing my tunic, apart from those knickers, but I have to say he looked the part and quite heroic… even his flimsy nylon knickers didn’t detract from that fact. However, my involvement in my dream-world had been disappointing. Cast as the fleece wasn’t a very heroic part and I could feel it hanging heavily as Julie began to peel me from my fluffy prison. It was like half the world’s ocean’s had been soaked up by the fabric, it was so wet and substantial sagging between my legs. Ever efficient, Julie had me stripped, the bed stripped, the windows opened to air my room and had left me dry but naked sat on the edge of my bed. As she went downstairs to sort out the washing she told me to wait until she returned before I got dressed. She was taking quite some time so I took it upon myself to get ready. I sprinkled a bit of powder around myself and found my white pull-ups with the happy smiling princess on the front. This was the only underwear that I could see so I slipped them on and decided that I wanted to spend the day as ‘Jason’ so put on the rest of my tunic. The sandals were too fiddly to fasten up by myself so I padded downstairs barefoot. Mum was in the kitchen drinking coffee and reading a script for a new campaign. She took one look at me. “And how is the hero today… did you sleep well?” I beamed at being referred to as a hero and got myself some juice and tucked in to the cereal that she’d just poured for me. After a short while I told her how much I had enjoyed the party and seeing Simon again. “Mmmm that poor boy,” I wasn’t sure what mum meant. “His mum is very strange… wanting to keep him dressed as a girl… very strange.” I wriggled a little uncomfortably in my tunic hearing mum say such a thing about someone else. I’d been dressed as a girl, on and off, for most of my life and she’d never said anything about it before but, I swallowed a spoonful of Corn Flakes, and asked if we could invite him around again soon. “If his mother will let him,” again she seemed very dismissive of her but she saw the confusion on my face and realised that she may be speaking about things I didn’t understand. Her face brightened, “Yes of course sweetheart, he can come over any time.” I was happy about that so finished my breakfast and went to play on my new piano. I’d been fiddling around with a new idea I had for a tune when Julie came in looking a bit annoyed. I’d seen that face many times recently and I stiffened when she said “I thought I told you to wait.” I felt a chill run up my spine and realised that my heroic little tunic probably wasn’t the warmest item to wear for everyday clothing. She pulled me to my feet but her expression softened, “Look,” she said as she fluffed up the pleats in it, “you’ll get it all dirty if you wear it all the time.” Her voice was all concern, which wasn’t what I was expecting. “You’ll damage it if you don’t take good care of it… why not change and only wear it for special occasions? I could see her point but I wanted to be a hero again, and I suppose somehow claim it back from Simon, after all this outfit made me feel like I was special. However, as she took my arm and led me upstairs I knew that her suggestion is what we’d be doing. Once again she hung it up with care and said how fantastic I looked in it but that we should just keep it for when we wanted to impress… a point she kept repeating. So, it was back to pull-ups and shorts and a jumper, which I had to agree, were a lot warmer to wear than just a short tunic and I began to wonder how the Ancient Greeks managed. Some of the toys and action figures I’d received as presents were also from the TV show I enjoyed so much so, I played with them in battles or stories that I made up. I hoped Julie would join in and then perhaps what we played together during the day could become a version of a story to be told at night. With my new fluffy but leaky ‘pyjamas’ (as Julie insisted on calling them) drying off and in need of further waterproofing, this eight year-old was back to a regime of thick nappies and plastic security. In truth, that night I’d actually got used to the soft fleecy feel of the material and had to admit that although the overall effect was babyish, they were oddly very comfortable and comforting to wear. However, I also now had a new teddy and dummy that my sister was pretty keen I should use. If I didn’t clutch my teddy tight enough, or suck on my dummy enthusiastically enough she said that there were going to be no more stories until I could prove to her that I loved both. So, with my thick nappy and pants gripped by my short onesie, which was tightly buttoned between my legs, I gave each one the fervour that was expected. I think for some reason mum’s encounter with Mrs McKay had set her thinking and, though it had been a long time in coming, she thought my wetting might be a symptom of something else. When mum booked me an appointment to see the doctor Julie had told me in no uncertain terms to tell him that I enjoyed dressing up and more especially I loved her looking after me. Since the spanking I both loved and feared my sister and had found that it was always best just to go along with what she said rather than argue. She also convinced me that the doctor would take me away and put me in a home if I didn’t do exactly as she said and that would upset mum. I was absolutely terrified of even seeing the doctor let alone speaking to him. In the surgery I was continually on the verge of tears. I couldn’t speak and as the doctor examined me I was crying for my mummy, even though she was only inches away. I was so petrified that, whilst he was listening to my heart, I wet my pull-ups and it seeped down my leg onto his examination table, which set me off bawling. The people in the waiting room must have wondered what the doctor was doing to cause so much hysterical howling. Mum seemed embarrassed and surprised at my reaction and was desperately trying to calm me down but I just kept pleading with her not to let the doctor send me away. The doctor must have dealt with similar problems a thousand times because he went to a cupboard, found a disposable nappy and left my mum to change me as he typed some things on a computer. Mum did her best but I suppose this only confirmed what Julie had been saying to her… I was just a big baby. When he returned I was sat up, nervously shivering and wrapped in the rather large disposable, he said that I could get dressed and mum helped me with my shirt and shorts, which did nothing to hide my new super-large underwear. The doctor and mum talked around me; about my health history (I was rarely sick), was I good at school, did I wet in class, how long had it been a problem…etc etc? Meanwhile, as they talked I shook nervously as I tried to come to terms with this grown-up nappy sprouting from the top and legs of my shorts. This seemed much worse than anything that Julie had made me wear in public but all I could do was sniff back the tears and try not look too scared (I was failing badly in that). He didn’t think there was anything physically wrong with me but thought that his colleague, a psychiatrist, might have an opinion and phoned through to book an appointment. I was ‘lucky’ because I could get in to see him later that day as there had just been a cancellation. Mum nodded her agreement and pretty soon, after we’d had lunch out, I found myself in another doctor’s waiting room wondering what would happen next. # Danni – Part 11 – Consequences As we entered the new doctor’s consulting room a new, more intense panic gripped me and I hung on to mum’s hand for dear life and repeated that I didn’t want to be taken away. No matter what mum said I was convinced that if I let go the man would drag me off to… who knew where… and I’d never see my family again. I roared and stamped and struggled and there was nothing the poor confused man could do. Even the offer of a lollipop and cuddly stuffed animals couldn’t prevent my expression of terror. They were both trying to calm me down but what they didn’t realise was that I was fighting for my life. If I let him get me alone, as Julie said, that would be it and I’d be whisked off to prison… or… something… er… I couldn’t remember exactly where she said it would be… all I knew was I didn’t want to leave mum and my sister as I’d never see them again. Mum was trying her best to quieten me down. “C’mon sweetheart… the doctor’s only trying to help.” When it was just mum and me I wasn’t quite so panicky. “My little hero” and she emphasised the word, “has nothing to fear. Do you think that Jason and his Argonauts would cry?” Mum was making sense… and crying was making me appear like I was a baby. However, I’d lost control so much that, once again, I’d wet myself and this time I couldn’t hide the result. Despite the huge disposable a dark damp patch had spread across my pale grey shorts and I was on the verge of hysteria once more. The nice lady receptionist saw what had happened and went off to get a fresh nappy. She returned with a couple of disposables and a pair of see-thru plastic pants (she must have been used to kids having accidents in her office) and pointed to the toilet for mum to change me. I think mum was more worried than angry as she whipped off my shorts, removed the soaked disposable and dried me down with some rather rough paper towels. I sat on the edge of the changing table, that wasn’t really built for someone my size, naked from the waist down and mum asked what I was scared of. As Julie had only said not to tell the doctor anything I confided in mum what her daughter had told me. She was not happy. “Right young man this has to stop now. None of that is going to happen. Do you think I’d let anyone take away my beautiful boy?” I shook my head but kept it bowed. As she fixed both pairs of disposables into position and pulled up the plastic pants she continued. “Your sister…” she was struggling for words, “only said that as a… a… joke. I’ll be with you all the time so just talk to the nice man… he’s not here to hurt you… or take you away… or anything but try and help you. You want to stop wetting the bed don’t you?” Looking down the clear plastic pants offered no hiding place for my double-thick nappy. However, my shorts were just too soaked for me to wear so I’d have to make do. I nodded but still dare not look up at mum. She put her hand under my chin and gently lifted it up so I was gazing straight into her eyes. “My little hero is scared of nothing… so let’s go on this journey with the doctor together… who knows what we might discover.” That was it. Mum had said all the right things and I sat cuddling her as the doctor asked his questions. I think mum was surprised at how much influence Julie had over me, and as it turned out, her. Things mum had never questioned now appeared to be a failure of duty by her and I think she found the chat more uncomfortable than I did. The doctor kept looking at her as if to say… ‘Didn’t you know?’ He pointed to my protection and asked if I minded being dressed like that but, wriggling up close to mum in a dry and well-padded nappy, I was quite comfortable and said that I didn’t mind. He spoke about being dressed-up and how I felt about that and I honestly said that it was fun and I loved my sister… she did everything for me. “She read me stories, she organised my clothes, she put me to bed, she made me a heroes costume… er… she made me… happy… most of the time.” We spent over an hour chatting to the doctor and I was pleased when we were walking to the car and relieved that I hadn’t been taken away. Even just wearing my bulging plastic safeguard I wasn’t embarrassed, in fact, this was normal but I could tell by the grip on my hand that mum was a little bit uneasy. When Julie arrived home from school mum was ready. She didn’t give her beloved daughter a chance to make any excuses or offer any denials, she went straight in on the attack and surprisingly, Julie was embarrassed, defeated and… crying. I’d never seen my sister upset before and I found it saddening to witness. Mum made her go and get all my clothes she had stashed away and bring them back to my room. Boy’s clothes I didn’t know I had suddenly filled my draws and cupboard whist she made her reluctantly take my disposables, pull-ups, plastic pants etc into her room. Faced with mum’s anger at being so easily deceived, and the fact that she had trusted her, Julie offered no argument… to begin with. However, mum had said that as a punishment Julie would now have to wear the nappies 24/7. This was too much for a thirteen year-old girl with more than a little attitude, a scheming nature and a leadership position amongst her friends. The argument that followed really scared me and I found myself crying. Mum blamed her and she blamed mum for upsetting me. Julie reiterated that I was still only a soft, little baby boy who wasn’t equipped to deal with the rigors of growing up. Mum accused Julie of being a control-freak, unable to cope with the fact that I was growing up, growing independent and growing away from her influence. At this point I couldn’t stand it anymore and weeping rushed off to my room although I could still hear them arguing downstairs. I was still wearing my bulging nappy and see thru pants when I through myself down on my bed crying into my pillow. I hadn’t wanted any of this to happen, in fact, I hadn’t felt the need to change things at all… and I regarded it as entirely my fault. It was me who was wetting himself not Julie, it was me who enjoyed dressing-up. I didn’t quite understand why the two main women in my life were now shouting at each other. I must have dozed for a while as I was woken up by mum coming in and telling me to get ready for bed. She stripped me out of my pants and nappy, which, perhaps unsurprisingly were sodden, and went and got my pyjamas… they were soft cotton and had planets and rockets all over them. I’d seen them once briefly but they had disappeared and I was put in pull-ups and pants by Julie to sleep in. Once mum had cleaned and dried me she offered them to put on but, I looked for a pair of pull-ups to slip into first but mum suggested I try without them… this time. I woke up dry. I was overjoyed and ran to mum to show her myself. Sat at the table was a very unhappy Julie, and it was only when she got up from the table to leave that I heard the tell-tale crinkle of plastic pants. I suppose mum had won that part of the argument but I don’t know what threats, so severe, had made my sister grumpily comply. As she was about to leave the house mum said that she’d be checking on her throughout the day and there would be dire consequences if she tried to change out of her punishment. So, for the next few weeks Julie had to wear her nappies and pull-ups and plastic pants. Unfortunately, she didn’t read or tell me any more stories and mum was useless at it and, in truth, I missed what Julie and I had when we were together. Wearing a nappy seemed the least hardship if I could get her friendship back to the way things were and, when mum wasn’t around, I began to pester her to ‘dress me up’. To begin with she refused but eventually, we were sat around in her room and she put me back in a nappy and plastic pants that matched hers. I thought we looked awesome in our mutual padded protection and that night she made up a story that had two friends, a boy and a girl, who went on an adventure wearing their bulging nappies that saved their lives. The story was so exciting that I asked her if I could sleep in them but Julie said that she’d get into trouble if she let me. However, she saw a way to change things, if mum asked and I said that I’d put them on, she couldn’t be blamed. I agreed and that night, under my rocket PJs, I wore my protection with pride and felt comforted knowing I had the security I’d been missing for the last few weeks. In fact, Julie appeared to enjoy wearing hers as well so it wasn’t that much of a punishment and eventually mum relented… and the reason she did that was pretty neat. **** Danni – Part 12 – Back to Normal It was a Sunday morning and I was tinkering around on the piano. Outside it was drizzly and gloomy and, as I had no intention of going outside, I hadn’t changed out of my PJs. Mum was in her study and we knew she was getting a little bit stressed over a new client who she was hoping to lure from one of the much bigger advertising agencies. Her team had come up with a couple of campaigns that they had rejected and it was the last presentation before they went elsewhere. Julie was with me and as I played she was doing some writing, perhaps her homework. She was also still in her PJs, which still had the required padding underneath. If mum was around I didn’t wear any as I didn’t want to get my sister into any further trouble, we kept that for when there was just the two of us. Relationships between mum and Julie had been strained but recently they had been getting a little better. Part of that was due to the fact that, with Julie wearing a ‘punishment’ to school, far from being an embarrassment, she’d turned it into a fashion statement. For some reason, all the boys loved to see my sister in her pink, shiny, padded protection. They liked the way it emphasised her bum and she was receiving more and more attention from the male students. All the other girls, older girls, were getting a bit jealous and pretty soon, Julie and her friends had a roaring trade in making padded ‘protection’ for their classmates. The head had forbidden them to wear such a ‘blatant sexual item’ at school but oddly enough, it had taken off with the girls who were wearing them socially. None of this mum knew about but I could tell Julie was very pleased with the way she’d turned this to her own advantage. I suppose it just went to prove that Julie’s influence stretched further than anyone could imagine. Anyway, mum had come out of her study to check on us and just happened to mention that she was at a loss as to what to do for this new client. Normally mum rarely talked shop in front of us but this was really bugging her and her team of ‘brilliant’ designers, writers and degree-laden creatives had come up with nothing. She was carrying a carton of juice, which was the product she was trying to come up with something, anything for when Julie, ever the clever girl with words took one look at it and came up with a slogan. “Life in the key of vitamin ‘C’” She even sang it to the notes I was trying to play on the piano and pretty soon she had created a two line song to go with it. The look on mum’s face was absolutely priceless as she asked us to play it again. We did and I’d never seen mum move so quickly as she rushed to the phone and got her creative team over to our house. After they’d all gone mum was buzzing. They’d come up with a TV advert, featuring a series of cute family scenes (based on a boy at a piano) and a poster and newspaper campaign. She couldn’t get over having such an obvious tag-line (mum’s word for it) and was visibly proud of her ‘talented’ kids. She even said that perhaps she should employ us at the agency and sack the rest. A group hug made all the past disappear and we were instantly back to being a functioning family again. Mum said Julie’s punishment was over and she needn’t wear her protection any more. However, my sister is very clever. She said that she understood what she’d done was not right but that she had to see this ‘thing’ through to the end… so she wouldn’t forget how badly behaved she’d been. I think mum gave her the benefit of any doubt and assumed she was being very grown up but of course, she was just keeping her options open. I liked wearing my big boy’s clothes and I seemed to blossom at school since I now didn’t have to wear a nappy although I did miss my night time ‘snuggle’ pants. So, if she wasn’t around to help, sometimes I raided Julie’s room and return with those comforting, nappy and plastic pants and secretly wear them under my jammies. I had stopped wetting. I suppose that was due to not being given a gallon of liquid before bed, so always woke up dry and was able to slip them off so they’d be available for use another night. Mum’s campaign pitch was a huge success and you may have seen the adverts on TV as they were very popular. The first one started with a young boy picking out notes on a piano but was having difficulties until his mother gave him a glass of juice. One drink and he was singing and playing like a professional. Meanwhile, his family joined him on each line of the song and pretty soon the screen was filled by a happy choir singing “Life in the key of vitamin ‘C’” as the boy played to a packed concert hall… a glass of juice perched on top of his piano. There were a series of similar advertisements all based around what mum had witnessed as I played with my space ships, whilst still in my PJs (that advert ended with an astronaut floating around the Earth with a carton of juice). She remembered Simon and me playing with some plastic animals and that translated as a young girl becoming an explorer… though still drinking her juice. I know that people eventually got sick of the song, it was very catchy, and you can only go cute for so long before tastes change. Anyway, it was a great success and made mum’s company the target of yet more aggressive takeover bids. She never let on to her team where the inspiration had come from but importantly, Julie liked that she could influence people (or at least try) and now knew what she wanted to do when she left school. Mum would bounce ideas off of her for nearly every campaign and Julie was exceptionally good at spotting a winner. Meanwhile, Simon came for a play day and was dressed much the same as before except this time the emphasis was on pink teddy bears rather than butterflies and he was very sullen. However, as soon as his mum had gone we went up to my room and I suggested that we swap for the day. He couldn’t believe the offer but as we both whisked of our clothes I could tell he was eager to resume being a boy again… and in truth, I’d missed my own style of dressing-up. Even with his long girly hair, once in my clothes he looked so much happier. He actually held my cotton cartoon briefs against his face, as if he was inhaling being a boy again and then couldn’t wait to slip into them and everything else for that matter. His silky nylon knickers also had pink teddy bears all over them and matched perfectly with the rest of his outfit. They brought back some happy memories for me as I thought they were cute and beamed as I tugged them up my legs, admiring them once in place. After we’d swapped completely I never thought any more about it as we continued our games in my room… until mum called us for lunch. Mum took one look and said “What are you two boys doing?” She didn’t seem mad but I could see she wasn’t particularly happy. I was quite bold. “Simon wanted to be a boy again so we swapped clothes.” “Mmmm. OK, why didn’t you just lend him some of your other clothes?” Simon looked a bit afraid that he would have to change back so I had to think quickly “I wanted... er… I like to dress up… I like these things and I miss doing so with Julie…” “Oh sweetheart, you are thoughtful” She hugged me and then hugged us both together. “I never thought you might want to keep playing.” She looked caringly. “OK boys, well you both look… lovely… are you OK Simon?” He nodded vigorously. “In that case let’s eat.” Back in my room after lunch we were playing with my Greek Heroes action figures and he asked me about my tunic from my birthday. I told him it was a special present from Julie and I loved wearing it (although I hadn’t done so for a while). He said that at first he thought it looked too much like a girls dress but, now he watched the same TV programme he saw that’s what they wore in those days. I asked him if he’d like to try it on and though at first he said “No… he didn’t think so” in a very shy voice, I took to that mean he’d need convincing. Ten minutes later and he was out of my clothes and trying on the tunic. He kept my cartoon underpants on but enjoyed wearing the rest and it brought back memories of the dream I had when I was the ‘fleece’. Eventually, I brought out the gold plastic pants and suggested the outfit looked better if it all matched. He didn’t have to wear a nappy if he didn’t want but that’s how I’d worn them and they fitted better if he did. He just pulled them over his briefs but still looked pretty good and we spent the rest of the day playing ‘Heroes’. Before his mum was due we changed back, although I wanted my turn in the ‘Jason’ costume. As we swapped back and he was getting dressed he didn’t appear as gloomy as he had when he’d arrived. In fact, it didn’t seem to worry him at all getting redressed in his pink clothes. I gave him a pair of my cartoon briefs to take home with him so he could wear them in secret if he wanted to and he appreciated the gesture. Surprisingly, he was a lot happier boy when his mum came and collected him and almost skipped to meet her waiting by the car. Meanwhile, mum waved to Mrs McKay and said what a delightful boy Simon was and she hoped we’d see him again soon. Mrs McKay nodded and kissed her son on the head in greeting. She saw me, again dressed in my little tunic, smiled and I think was surprised by her son’s happier state of mind. I don’t know but perhaps she might have thought that me being dressed the way I was added to her opinion that all little boys would be better as little girls. In the meantime, whilst we were changing I’d gone and got a nappy from Julie’s room and had pinned it on myself, pulled my gold shiny pants over them and once again felt like the padded hero I hoped I looked # To be continued… Danni – Part 13 – Cocoon With Julie back in mum’s good books I was hoping that we could return to how things were. I know that she had embarrassed and humiliated me on occasions but, and perhaps this is the strange thing, once that initial reaction was over, I actually liked being her baby brother. I’m sure mum wouldn’t have allowed things to spiral out of control (she was keeping a much more detailed eye on both of us) but I was hoping for the reappearance of my fleecy PJs and some of the other stuff she used to dress me in. Unfortunately, the sad thing for me was that my darling, humiliating, bossy and clever sister appeared to have lost the need to dress me up or find a demeaning situation where I would be shamed. Even at bed time she didn’t supervise my PJs, mostly mum came in to settle me down so we didn’t have the fun we used to. I was really missing being dressed for sleep in a nappy and onesie but it never occurred to mum that I might prefer that. Julie’s ‘creativity’ and energy were both now directed into helping mum and proving herself both at home and at school where I think she had acquired a boyfriend. Although she didn’t completely neglect me - when she did read me a story, or make one up, sadly we no longer had that intimacy. Despite all that had been done to me over the years I was always made to feel special, different, loved and Julie’s most favourite toy - now I suddenly felt very ‘un-special’ indeed. She spent more time with mum and the two of them would discuss and plan campaigns together. Even though she was only just a teenager mum reckoned that her daughter was way better and more creative than half her staff. As she did when given free reign over me, she blossomed with the responsibility. Channelling her ingenuity away from me and into her new ‘love’ advertising saw a new respect form between the two. Meanwhile, I was more often than not left to my own devises and spent a lot of time in my room on my piano creating some tunes or simply dreaming of dressing up and pretending. To try and claw back some of those ‘special’ feelings I sneakily began to bring all the things I liked from Julie’s room and the stuff stored in the attic, back to my own. Onesies, nappies, disposables, pull-ups, plastic pants, rubber pants, anything and everything (including some of her clothes from when she was younger) eventually found its way back under my bed, into my ‘secret’ draws or hidden in the closet. Sometimes I’d sit at the piano wearing one of Julie’s old dresses with a thick nappy and only change when I was called to eat. Then I’d slip out of the dress and, depending on how huge the nappy was, attempt to pull them over my shorts. If mum noticed she never said anything and if Julie noticed I guess she thought she was just keeping my secret. The only time I thought I could dress up without upsetting mum was when Simon came to play. I think his mum had decided that I was a bigger girl than her son and therefore not a bad influence. Little did she know that as soon as she drove off we swapped clothes and he played at being a boy, whilst I played at being… him. Not every time. Sometimes we’d both be boys and he’d just wear some of my clothes but I did like to try his stuff on because it was different and I thought his mum actually dressed him prettily. He was never happy if I wanted us both to wear nappies because he said his mother made him wear them to sleep in. He said he never wet the bed but she insisted and supervised his night time routine to make sure he wore them. She’d check every morning as well, so he’d given up trying to wriggle out of them during the night as it got her mad and he was made to wear something far worse (his words) for the rest of the day. He was trying to find the least embarrassing clothes and discovered that if he didn’t fight her too much he could avoid the dresses even if the rest of his outfits were fairly ‘girly’. Mrs McKay only ever invited me once to go over to play at their place but mum was none too keen and made it so that I was doing something else on that occasion. I would have loved to see Simon in his own environment but I don’t think he really wanted me there as he much preferred to express himself at my house. At school Miss Simms was encouraging me to get more involved with the choir and was happy to teach me piano. I didn’t even mind singing solos now and, since my 8th birthday party, had become quite a popular boy. In the playground I chased around after the ball but I was hopeless at sport, never really acquiring the skills to tackle or win the thing. If another boy ran towards me my immediate reaction was to stop and cower, which wasn’t the correct response. However, like Julie, I was doing quite well in class and was receiving good reports to show mum so she was under the impression all was well. Late one Saturday night I was getting ready for bed. Mum was downstairs and Julie was staying at her friends. I thought this was an ideal time to use some of the things I’d stashed in my room. Alas, mum discovered me crying my eyes out. I’d managed to fit into my nappy and plastic pants easily enough but I must have grown because I couldn’t get the onesie to fit. I was frustrated at trying to get the snap fasteners to work but there just wasn’t enough material for both ends to meet. For some reason this upset me more than it should and I think it was my sobbing that had alerted mum to a problem. She could see I was in distress “What’s wrong sweetheart?” “I can’t get it to fit.” I bawled through heavy tears. “Is that what you want to do, wear your onesie again?” I nodded. “I thought you had stopped all that.” She said stroking my hair out of my eyes and dabbing at my tears. “But I like them.” “Perhaps if you take off the protection you’ll be able to get it to fit.” “But I like that as well.” I whined. “I liked all that… it made me feel special...” I sobbed heavily. “It’s not fair, why did thing have to change?” I heaved another huge cry. “Oh sweetheart, you’re growing up and all that’s for babies. You’re not a little toddler anymore,” she tried to find some soothing words. “You’re eight and a very talented young man.” Unfortunately, being a talented young man didn’t help and I just pushed my head into her bosom and cried, “But I don’t want to grow up.” She must have seen the dummy in amongst all the stuff I had got out to try on. She reached down, picked it up, saw how miserable I was and just slipped it into my mouth as if it was the most natural thing to do. I didn’t think twice and immediately sought its soothing qualities by sucking passionately. Resting in my mother’s arms, being gently rocked I was soon happily drifting off to sleep. The following morning I woke up with the dummy half in and half hanging out of my mouth, the onesie had ridden up my body and I could feel that my nappy was soaked. I hadn’t wet for some time so this was a shock and gave me an uneasy feeling. Would mum be mad because I’d reverted to being a big baby, which she obviously thought I should be over by now, and would I be punished? I didn’t like that idea so climbed out of bed, relieved that the sheets were dry, and waddled to the bathroom. Regardless of the soggy, damp, cold and uncomfortable nappy I was pleased to get back to some of the feelings I used to have when Julie checked me in the mornings. I’d had a completely restful night’s sleep but the result was a wet nappy and perhaps oddly, I didn’t mind the trade-off. I could hear that mum was up and pottering around probably getting breakfast ready so, I shrugged off all my wet sleepwear and got in the shower. As usual, I used far too much shampoo and was inundated with bubbles so I made games with them as the trickled in batches down my body. Mum must have been calling me for breakfast but I didn’t hear her because of the sound from the shower when she appeared in the doorway. “C’mon sweetheart, get dried and dressed we’ve got a busy day ahead of us.” As I peeked round the shower door I saw her pick up my soaked nappy, look back at me and gave a sort of resigned smile. I wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad sign but as she’d told me to hurry up I thought I’d better not mess around for much longer. I rinsed the bubbles from my hair, dried off and went back to my room to get dressed. Mum was sat on the edge of my bed waiting. Flashing through my mind were images of the time when Julie had spanked me for not doing as I was told and the guilt I suddenly felt made me shiver. “Come and sit here love,” she said patting the bed to her side. She looked serious but not angry so, pulling the towel tighter, I nervously walked over and sat down. She looked me in the eyes. “You are my precious little boy.” I felt relieved as she put her arm around my shoulder. “I don’t like to see either of my babies unhappy… but you seem like you are.” Inside I was saying ‘Yes, yes I am’ but I looked down at the carpet and let mum continue. “By rights, you should be over wanting to wear nappies and,” she indicated all the baby clothes that I had around the room, “all this type of thing.” I began to worry that she was about to take everything away and I experienced an uncomfortable feeling welling up inside me. “Most boys your age want to be… well… want to be … older.” She nodded to herself as if she’d found the correct words. “Some are in no rush to grow up… and some… perhaps like you… are worried about growing up.” Tears were forming in my eyes as I expected the worst. “Danni,” she hugged me close, “you’ve never really had a strong male influence in your life. I never thought you needed one as long as your sister and I guided you and answered any questions or helped solve any prob…” She must have felt my body through the towel begin to heave with the sobs that were catching in my tummy, chest and mouth. I didn’t know what to do or what to feel I just know I felt dreadful and in my case, tears were the usual expression. “Oh sweetheart. I’m not angry or anything like that. I want nothing but for you to be happy and if you like to dress up… well that’s fine by me.” She was hugging me real tightly. “Oh baby, I love you… and if that is how you like to express who you feel you are… I’m certainly not going to stop you.” I howled my relief. “I’m not Simon’s mother.” She got in that particular dig. “I don’t want to make you do… or be anything that you don’t want to. Both your sister and I are on your side. We’ve talked about it and… well… if that’s how you feel happiest.” I let the towel drop from my shoulders and hugged mum as hard as I could. I wasn’t totally sure what all this would mean but it sounded like I could still play dress up and wear my nappy… at least that’s what I hoped it meant. We sat hugging for a few more minutes before she told me to get dressed and come down for breakfast. “What should I wear?” I asked. “Well, it’s cooler out than it has been so… I suggest you wrap up warm but… it’s up to you.” She smiled and left me to it. I looked out of the window and mum was right, it was cloudy and the wind was blowing so it was jeans, jumper but underneath was a pair of pull-ups. Even they were fitting me very tightly these days but, princess or no princess I was reluctant to give them up. We went shopping and mum bought me new pull-ups and plastic pants that she said should last a while as I grew into them. She told me that they were mainly to be used for bed but, if I wanted to wear them any other time I could. When we returned home Julie had a surprise for me. The fleecy PJs had been altered slightly and were a lot bigger so I would grow into them as well. Julie suggested that to make them nice and snug I should wear a very thick nappy, which she offered to supervise the next time I wanted to wear it. I was very happy. I liked being a boy but at times I liked being a girl. Some nights though I just wanted to be a baby; I wanted stuffed toys, stories, plastic pants and onesies. Not every night of course but when I sought the comfort that all those things offered I’d rush up stairs and couldn’t wait to go to sleep in my own pleasure cocoon. **** Danni – Part 14 – Growing Up Whether mum was happy with me dressing up or not, she was never anything but reassuring. She could see how contented it made me and how delighted I would be with any new clothing added to my closet. I now had boys and girls items and, even without Julie supervising, was happy to slip into anything that took my fancy. I suppose the one thing that didn’t change was my preference to sleep in my padded protection… even though I rarely needed it for the purposes it was created. My special fleecy PJs were happily alternated with my space PJs or a pair of boxers but I always had a nappy or disposable under them. Pull-ups or knickers, I was more than happy to wear for school but again, I alternated them with my cartoon briefs. I was free to wear what I liked, when I liked and I couldn’t have been happier… except… I missed Julie’s firm but guiding hand. Occasionally, she found time for me; being a very busy young miss now with her boyfriend, school and everything else she had going on in her life, but it was really nice when we’d delve into my many costumes and she’d create a land of make-believe with me at its centre. I even began to include her stories in my fledgling song writing and could often be heard at the piano trying to make her words fit a particular piece of music I’d come up with. On that subject, I won my first ever prize when I took a solo in an inter-schools singing competition. It was coming up to my 9th birthday and my confidence had grown considerably, although for safeties sake, I was surreptitiously wearing protection under my school uniform. My teacher had continually encouraged me, telling anyone who would listen what a wonderful voice I had and was eager to give me solos whenever she could. I enjoyed being centre-stage and that confidence grew when I realised that the precaution I took meant I didn’t have to worry about any possible ‘accidents’. When my name was announced as the winner I was so surprised to hear everybody cheering and my school friends calling my name. The applause made me quite emotional and when Miss Simms hugged me in congratulations, I have to admit I peed a little. Obviously she could feel my protection but didn’t say a word but, like everyone else I have ever known, simply patted me on my padded bottom and smiled. I hadn’t seen Simon for a few weeks. Every time I called his mum said he was busy and couldn’t come to the phone or that they had other things organised and they were on their way out. Eventually he began to come to the house again but I think he thought I’d gone quite weird. Sometimes when he visited I was dressed as a girl, a boy, a pirate or some incredible fantasy creature I’d dreamt up, he was never sure who or what was going to greet him. I urged him to dress up equally outrageously but he always said he just wanted to be a boy. However, recently I had noticed that there were certain things he didn’t reveal if we dressed up. He seemed ashamed and eventually told me that his mum now insisted he wear some very girly, frilly knickers all the time under his pretty shorts. I had noticed but said nothing but because they were quite padded I suspected they covered a nappy or something similar underneath. He was obviously not very happy about this change to his dress-code but refused point blank to swap my undies for his. Although at first he wasn’t very forthcoming I wondered if his mother had found my briefs and this was some kind of punishment. I figured that either there must be some way his mother would know if he took them off, or, more probably, he couldn’t remove them. Either way I was now transfixed by his shiny, frilly, cushioned panties and wanted some of my own. I remembered that some time back, when I was a lot younger, Julie had made me wear something similar and I set about trying to see if I could find them. I searched the attic from top to bottom but had no luck and was about to give up when I had an idea. I rifled through Julie’s underwear draws and was happily surprised to find a couple of pairs that looked not unlike the ones Simon had been wearing. One pair was very tight-fitting and I vaguely recalled having to wear them once when I was younger. The other pair was silky, frilly and a lovely pale pink and looked fairly new. They soon became part of my ‘luxury’ items to wear and, inspired by Simon, I soon had them pulled over my disposable enjoying the slippery silkiness. It was quite a shock to Simon when he visited me next and saw I was wearing the same type of knickers as he was. Recently he’d been reluctant to throw himself wholeheartedly into our play (I assumed because of those panties) but now I hoped he would see that it didn’t worry me what he wore so I hoped it wouldn’t worry him. “I don’t know why you have to wear them,” I said as he looked stunned at my shiny protection, “but now you don’t have to feel like it’s a punishment…or something to hide… especially if we make it into a game.” I convinced him to throw caution to the wind and not care what he had to wear. We spent the day running around just dressed in those frilly items. His were purple and mine pink and the fact that we wore the same seemed to help him lose any hang-ups he’d been having as we charged about doing the most boyish games I could think of. At meal time I had noticed he ate and drank very little and wondered why. I also noticed that he didn’t go to the bathroom like he used to so, putting my hand on his padded bottom I asked why. He looked a bit hurt but eventually confessed that since his mother found my underpants in his bed one morning she now made him wear a nappy all the time. When he’d rebelled, screamed, shouted and cried that it ‘just wasn’t fair’, she made it so that he had no option. Slowly he pulled down the front of his silky panties and revealed the top of his nappy which had a small padlock attached. He was firmly bolted into his tight-fitting and firm looking protection and I’d never seen anything like them before. “I can’t take them off.” He sighed. “Mum has the key and she makes me wear them all the time. At home I have to wear a short little dress as well.” I was quite surprised at what Simon was going through. “She says that she won’t put up with my rebellious streak and the sooner I learn to do as I’m told and act like the good girl I am,” he snorted a bit at that, “the sooner she’ll rethink my punishment.” I patted his padding and asked if he was OK? “Only wet, these…” and he pulled at his frilly panties, “have a plastic lining to keep everything in… so they are really just like a pair of plastic pants…” “I think you look great in them,” I confessed. “That’s why I wanted a pair of my own.” He smiled knowing he had my support. “But I don’t like to see you unhappy… so what can we do to change your mum’s mind?” “I don’t know,” he said in a sad quiet voice, “I thought about running away but…” I was listening intently, “I don’t think I’d get very far and I’m sure mum would make things worse if I tried.” I said I wished he could come and live with me and he said that he wished the same but, and he confided this next bit, “Mum thinks you’re family are all a bit weird”. We thought this was the funniest thing we’d both ever heard and were rolling around on my bedroom carpet, dressed only in our frilly protection and in complete hysterics. It was getting late and his mum would be calling for him soon so, before we dressed, I gave him a real hug and told him again how much I wished he could live with us. He hugged me back and said how much he’d hate it if we couldn’t play together again and didn’t want to risk those opportunities. We were best friends, and best friends look out for each other. We hugged again and without thinking patted each other’s padded bottoms, which neither of us minded in the least. That night Julie came into my bedroom looking like thunder. She asked me what I’d done with them and as I could only think of one thing she must be speaking off, I pulled back my bedclothes. My little white cotton t-shirt had rode up my belly so her frilly knickers, stretched over my disposable, were clearly on view. I felt guilty and started to apologise but then she broke into a huge smile and said, “What’s taken you so long?” I didn’t know what she meant but she plonked herself down on the side of my bed and told me that she’d had them made a while ago and wondered how long it would take me to discover and wear them. She said that when I was younger she’d put me in a pair of frilly panties and thought I looked pretty good in them “And you… well you just loved wearing them.” However, these days, she wanted me to find them for myself and want to wear them rather than her making me. “You know Danni,” she said stroking the front of my cushioned panties, “you’ve grown up so much in the past year.” I loved to hear it when Julie praised me. “You take responsibility for what you wear and don’t care what anyone else thinks… that takes guts.” I wondered if there was going to be a put down at the end of her speech but all she said was that she was proud of me. We talked about our day and I asked if she would tell me a story. She asked what about and I pointed to my frilly knickers and asked if she had one about them. She laughed and started on a tale of my own discovery and rifling through her draws to find the ‘Panties of Excellence’ It was a pretty good story, especially when she said they had a magic interior that made them waterproof and acted as special aid to swimming. Remembering Simon’s panties I enthused about that bit so she exaggerated all the more the enchanted properties of this very special, silky, shiny pair of ‘super-panties’. I woke up wet. I’m not sure why but it could have been the dreams I had about my waterproof (and as it turned out bulletproof) super-panties as I’d battled with aliens, criminals and a rather angry looking polar bear. My new ‘Panties of Excellence’ were in demand to quell any wrong-doing as I became a sort of Super Hero who wore his frilly garment with pride. The dream had been action packed, I think I might not have only saved the world but also saved the underwater world of the ‘Squidimus’; a lot of my exploits took place in the oceans with me holding my breath as I dispatched evil ‘aquafiends’. Oh yes, the work of a pantie-clad Super Hero is never done until the last wrong-doer is brought to justice (or meets an unpleasant end). A wet crotch seemed a cheap price to pay for a safe and secure world but, as it was something I hadn’t done for a long time, it was a bit of a surprise. I lay there, noticing that the shiny fabric had stretched to accommodate my bulging nappy and I was worried that they might burst apart. There was even a slight damp patch on my sheet where my nappy had leaked, the panties not able to help in containing any heavy ‘weather’. So, my ‘Panties of Excellence’ weren’t that excellent after all and reluctantly I had to put them in the wash. Danni – Part 15 – Miss Simms At school I was spending a lot of time with Miss Simms. Like the other women in my life, when she asked or told me to do something I did it, so it was no surprise to find me entering just about every music competition she could find. She was of the opinion that I was ‘super-talented’; had a terrific voice, wrote songs and played the piano… and to her undying credit… she pushed me to excel in each of these areas. It had been well over a year since my first, disastrous public appearance when I’d wet myself on stage but since then I had found confidence and a talent that had apparently been lying dormant. I loved performing now and was more than happy to go along with anything that Miss Simms suggested. Perhaps she became a surrogate Julie and I liked the fact that she had, to some extent, taken charge of my life as I’m sure without her I would never have found what I now have. She’d known about me wearing nappies since that very first performance and she was one of those teachers who was very close to her students; we nine year-olds got loads of praise, lots of hugs and always positive comments. She was also the teacher who was constantly patting my bottom when I’d done something well. I loved this bond she had with her class and I liked even more the closeness she shared with me. Mum thought Miss Simms was fantastic. Because of me they had become friends and mum was so pleased to see me blooming in a way that no one had thought. Her constant encouragement and the fact that she gave over much of her own spare time to support my talent meant that she had almost become part of the family. She was aware of my ‘dressing up’ and though she wasn’t in a position to dissuade or encourage me in that area, she didn’t appear to think it was that odd. In fact, on one competition where we had to stay overnight we shared a room and I was surprised to find just how supportive she could be. Mum had been happy to let Miss Simms chaperone me to a competition in a city up north. It was an early start and an all-day knockout style contest so we went up to stay overnight. Mum had packed my suitcase with my new school uniform (which as I was representing the school I had to wear) however, she had bought me new long trousers, instead of the shorts that I normally wore to class, and I didn’t like them. They felt baggy and ill-fitting and I was very uncomfortable in them and much preferred the shorts. Miss Simms was in agreement, she thought I looked better wearing shorts and smiled in a conspiratorial sort of way saying that they brought out my ‘childlike genius’, which she was sure wouldn’t be lost on the judges. On the morning of the contest we had a light breakfast in our room after which she told me to take a bath. We’d shared a room, which I loved because, before we went to sleep, she told me stories of some of the great composers, which I found fascinating. Anyway, when I came out of the bathroom Miss Simms had laid out my clothes but also had added a pair of disposables and plastic pants, which I didn’t recognise as my own. I think she saw my eyebrows rise in surprise but she just added that she thought I might be more comfortable wearing them. Over the past few months I had found that I was wearing pull-ups less and less for school mostly only wearing them at home and, like the nappies, for sleeping in. I had worn pull-ups under my pyjamas that night but I didn’t think that she had known about them… obviously she knew more than I thought. Once over my initial surprise I began to think that she may well be correct, I did feel safer and more confident on stage if I knew that there wouldn’t be a repeat of that first performance. I was surprised at how often I was now remembering that event and that was a bit upsetting, it was slightly undermining my confidence. However, she was very supportive and said it was only an option; she pointed to my Hercules cartoon underpants, which were also laid out and said it was up to me what I wanted to wear. The nappy was very thick and when she held it out I knew that was her preference so that’s what I went with. She dried me down then got me to lie out on the bed and like Julie used to do, powder me before pulling the disposable tightly up between my legs. To be truthful, I loved the attention as it brought back memories of… well… times that were now few and far between. She helped me to my feet to make sure it fit well and then had me step into the plastic pants she held open. They were yellow with cartoon characters all over them and crinkled as she pulled them up to cover the thick nappy. I was in so happy. It was like my earlier life when Julie would make sure I was properly dressed and had on enough protection so that I had no worries for the rest of the day. I realised that Miss Simms must have bought the plastic pants herself as I didn’t recognise them as my own and I suspect that she had planned this to happen. I was grateful that I was being given a choice but I was even happier that she had already decided what I should wear to the contest. The shorts felt tight and looked bulky, though in truth I was ridiculously happy. I thought I could perform so much better now that I felt safe and once I had my shirt and school tie in place I was ready to take on all comers. It was a long morning and I was number seven on the order. First we had to sing the same song that we all had to individually perform, which we were marked on, whilst later in the day we had to sing a song of our choosing (well in my case Miss Simms’s choosing to be correct). However, at lunchtime Miss Simms asked if I needed changing and it was only at that point that I realised that I did. I’d gone through the entire morning just so excited I hadn’t even thought about going to the toilet, I’d just naturally wet my nappy but the disposable had soaked it all up and left me unaware of what I’d done. She found a ladies toilet that also had baby-changing facilities and took me in there. I was astounded at just how prepared she appeared to be; disposables, wipes, powder and, if my eyes didn’t deceive me, a dummy, which she didn’t give me then and there, she just cleaned me up, fastened me back into my shorts and I was ready for the next round. Miss Simms thought my voice was ‘pure and faultless’ but there were other boys my age there who I thought were better. One of them, Colin Harper, was superb as he sang ‘Pie Jesu’, which was one of my own personal favourites. I was so glad I had sung before him as I felt sorry for the couple of other boys that had to follow him. He was so good I stood up and applauded his seamlessly beautiful version that it made me weep. I was moved to tears by the sheer magic of his performance and the quality of his voice. I was in no doubt who the winner was but I had a shock when he was judged in second place and I was given first. I couldn’t believe it and looked questioningly at Miss Simms for an answer to what I thought was a ridiculous decision. She just smiled, and proudly said the difference was “I was the complete package,” she patted my padded bottom, “of looks, voice and performance’ and should be proud of my achievements as I was up against some special young performers. After I called mum to tell her of my success, which she was very pleased about, Miss Simms chatted to her about staying over another night rather than driving back so late. Mum thought it was very considerate of her so we ended up going for a celebratory meal, which I was allowed to choose before spending another night together. I hadn’t had pizza for quite some time so I pigged out on that and, to make thing even better, there was a special offer on desserts so I could have as much as I wanted. I was stuffed by the time we arrived back at the hotel. The trophy was on the table between our two beds and gleamed when the light was turned on. Miss Simms had kept me entertained with stories of other children she had taught and some of the weird and wonderful things they had got up to that had made her smile. She was fun and I didn’t want her to stop so asked her to tell me more stories about famous composers. She suggested we get ready for bed first but of course, once I removed my shorts I realised I was once again wet through. She didn’t appear to mind at all and had me wiped down in seconds. This time she suggested that, as I was sleeping in a hotel bed, I might prefer some thicker protection. I wasn’t going to argue and just shrugged my shoulders to say I didn’t mind. From her suitcase she produced a terry fabric nappy and two thick absorbent pads. I was happy to go along with it so, after she had thoroughly spread lotion and powder over those all-important parts, she pulled the hefty bundle tightly up between my legs. I hadn’t been so well stuffed for quite some time and wasn’t quite used to such enormous protection. She slid a different pair of pink plastic pants over it all and suggested we leave my pyjamas off as they simply wouldn’t fit. I waddled around trying to make sure it was comfortable but eventually sought my bed and climbed in. Miss Simms went off to the bathroom to change and came back in her satin nightie, which I have to say she looked wonderful in, and plonked herself down on my bed. She hugged me and said how well she thought I’d done (for the umpteenth time) and now it was time for my story. However, before she started she offered me the dummy that I’d seen earlier. She asked if I wanted it, she said that as it had been such an exciting day it might help to calm everything down and help me ‘unwind’. I didn’t feel I needed to ‘unwind’ but she popped it into my mouth anyway. Surprisingly it was nice to have that sucking sensation back and quickly found the process was indeed very relaxing. She put her arm around me and hugged me to her ample bosom, she smelled wonderful and, as she related a story about Mozart, I drifted in and out of sleep. Before I fell asleep completely I thanked Miss Simms for all she’d done including the protection and kissed her on the cheek. She said it was her pleasure. She liked to see me enjoy being a little boy again and thought I was the sweetest (and cutest) pupil she’d ever had. She also predicted that I would one day be very famous… but hoped that I’d never stop being who I was. I wasn’t sure exactly what she meant but as always, the way she spoke sounded positive. I soon got used to the bulky item between my legs and, although they were forced wider apart than normal, the nappy and pants were unbelievably comfortable to wear. I was enjoying the memories that the sheer size conjured up, especially the times when Julie would make them so big I could hardly move. Occasionally I would run my hand over the huge plastic mound and delight in its silky slipperiness. During the night I woke up a couple of times and could hear the gentle breathing of Miss Simms in the other bed. I thought about going to the bathroom but in the end I just peed, felt a slight warming glow ‘down there’ and was soon fast asleep again. In the morning she appeared pleased that I’d wet myself and cooed and baby-talked to me as she once again changed me. Since Julie now had other interests I had grown away from such babyish things but now, with Miss Simms, I was really enjoying being back in my childish security zone. Even though I was nine she still blew raspberries on my stomach and made silly noises as she got me ready for our return home. She asked if I wanted to wear a disposable or my briefs but I giggled and didn’t answer so she would have to make the decision. I arrived home with my trophy and a sodden nappy, thankfully my new cartoon plastic pants had stopped any dribbles and I couldn’t have been happier. # To be continued… Danni – Part 16 – Mum’s Boyfriend It was around this time that a man, the type mum found very attractive indeed; young, good-looking, gym-toned and with a certain degree of self-confidence, started appearing on a regular basis. Mum was infatuated but Julie didn’t like him at all, she said there was something ‘fishy’ about his interest in mum. To begin with I had very little to do with him but when I did he seemed a bit un-nerved by my appearance. Sometimes I was dressed as a boy, other times a girl and sometimes just wearing a nappy… he didn’t know what to say. When I say I was dressed as a girl I didn’t try to make myself look like a girl, I simply wore the clothes that I liked. Usually I wore my protection for bed so that’s why he often saw me dressed that way as it was evenings and mornings (especially mornings) when he’d be around. I could see that he was desperately trying not to look shocked but when mum said nothing but happily patted my padded bum as we chatted at breakfast, I saw the lack of comprehension on his face. I’m not sure if mum explained anything to him, or even felt that she should but eventually, desperate to stay in my mum’s good books, he also started patting my padded bottom if we talked or I was nearby (though only if mum was around). I quite liked his attention and made myself noticeable when he visited and I liked the way he was so cautious when he stroked or patted my bulky nappy under my plastic pants but it was nice, it was unlike anyone else and I craved his attention. I’d had very little interaction with men, well males in general, and was desperate that he liked me. I would suddenly appear, occasionally at the most inappropriate times, with some bogus question or desire to show off something I had done. He would hide his annoyance because mum was never annoyed, she took everything I did (and how I appeared) as me - ‘just being me’. If it was the evening mum would often encourage me to sit between them while I explained what I’d done or to get an answer to my question and he always looked relieved if I was in my pyjamas. The nappy would be hidden so he didn’t have to cope with that but, over time, I got braver and braver until, in the end would be sitting there just wearing my plastic protection. Mum’s new man was called James Booth. He was 27 years old (a great deal younger than mum) and I thought he was devastatingly good looking. He’d met mum over a lunchtime sandwich in the park near her office and their relationship had blossomed fairly quickly from this rather unexciting meeting. Julie thought he was on the make and always excused herself if he was around. He tried his best with her but she was having none of it and rebuked any attempt at friendliness, much to mum’s frustration. He even managed to get tickets to see her favourite band but she just flounced out the door declaring how she was ‘so over them’ and that no girl her age would be seen dead at one of their concert. It must have taken a great deal of resolve on her part because only days earlier she was saying how desperate she was to go to the concert. Julie was an ‘all or nothing’ kind of girl and James had better believe it. Thankfully, because of Julie’s attitude towards him he upped his efforts to befriend me and began to take more of an interest in what I was doing. He complimented me on my fledgling song-writing and came with mum to watch me sing at a school show. He was overly enthusiastic afterwards but I was happy to forgive him that, especially when he patted my bum. It was perhaps strange but this had become the usual greeting and farewell whenever I met anyone, not that I met too many new people, but it was something I really enjoyed. When James patted me I got all dreamy, giggly and goosepimply and felt a slight shock ripple through my body, which oddly enough made me wet my pants a little. This is one of the reasons why I was now wearing my nappy or pull-ups more regularly… although in truth, I didn’t need a reason. Although Julie was spending a lot more time with her girlfriends and her boyfriend (she’d got a new one in tow) we still had occasional ‘baby’ sessions when she would dress me up before I went to bed. These were absolutely glorious times and I loved it when she pinned me in a thick nappy, slipped on a pair of plastic pants and fitted me into a onesie or footer. I liked the short onesie’s best because they felt really snug and hugged my protection. Mum had bought me a fleecy footed onesie that was very childish indeed simply because she knew it was something I’d like. I did but I preferred to have a short version and, ever resourceful, Julie got one of her very talented friends to adapt it for me. When I got it back, minus legs, it all snapped into place but she’d also had the seat and crotch areas padded. It was a terrific piece of engineering and even without my nappy and rubber pants underneath, it ballooned out nicely. However, despite it seeming a little ungainly it was very comfortable to wear. To be honest I loved the childish way it looked: The babyish cartoon pattern, the super-soft material, the bulkiness, my naked legs… all added to the image of a big toddler. Julie thought it looked fantastic and should go down to show mum just exactly what had been done to her present as she was sure she’d be impressed. I was eager to parade my new acquisition so waddled down to see mum just finishing having dinner with James. “My god Danni, you look more of a baby than you did when you was one.” She said in mock horror. “But you were as cute as pie then… so you are just as cute now.” A look of real horror flashed across James’s face and it stopped me in my tracks when I thought he might not like me anymore. Mum was making a fuss and looking at all the work that had gone into it but I was watching James through slightly averted eyes to see his reaction. Eventually, he appeared to make a decision and looked up at mum. “Are you really going to encourage him to act… like this.” He seemed lost for words but angry. “Can’t you let him grow up and be a boy for crying out loud… look at him,” he declared accusingly. I looked to the floor and I felt my eyes well up. Everyone else I knew didn’t mind me dressing up and I liked doing so. I couldn’t understand why he was so angry. However, mum hugged me close and told him he’d better go. He tried to talk her round but mum was adamant that he was to leave all the while holding me tightly as the tears rolled down my cheeks. James looked frustrated and annoyed at mum but eventually realised that there was going to be no sudden change of mind so he’d better leave before making things worse. Mum and I sat on the sofa huddled together. I’d stopped crying but I was at a loss as to what to say though eventually mumbled I was sorry and that I hadn’t meant to spoil her evening. She patted my bare leg and hugged me closer. “No one is more important than my two babies,” she whispered, “I’ll talk to James tomorrow…” She left what she was going to say unfinished but I liked being cuddled by mum and hugged her equally as tight. I began to think about what James had said. Was it too strange for someone my age to dress up? Why was he so angry, did he think that Julie, or even mum, made me dress in such a way and that I had no say in it all? His words had hurt and I began to feel really uncomfortable about my new outfit and his opinion on how I should be. I felt my chin begin to quiver again as if I was about to burst into tears but I fought back the emotion. I wondered what would happen if James was my father… how he would expect I dress. Then I began to ponder about my real dad and was desperate to talk to mum about him but I was afraid at that moment to bring up the subject. It was something that had never really been discussed as mum had always been a very independent woman who had no need of a husband… but, was that why I liked to dress up? We spent quite a bit of time in silence with her just stroking and petting me until I almost fell asleep. “OK sleepyhead,” I was reluctantly released from her grasp, “it’s way past your bedtime.” “Night-night,” I kissed her, “I hope James isn’t so angry in the morning.” I added softly and toddled off back upstairs. I was in two minds whether I should change out of my babyish outfit or not, in the end I was just too tired to be bothered and once in bed quickly fell asleep. I woke up wet… so I was very glad that I hadn’t changed but I found I was still dwelling on what James had said. The more I thought about it the more I wondered what I should be wearing. I wore the same as everyone else at school (except maybe my occasional pull-ups), the same uniform, the same gym shorts, the same swimming trunks… why was it so awful for me to like… well… other stuff at home? I was confused, yet despite the fact that he’d hurt me by what he said and his reaction, for some reason I still wanted to please him. Perhaps it was me, he simply didn’t like me. I decided that if he was around I wouldn’t dress in anything other than what a boy should wear. Over the next few days I only wore boy’s clothes. I even stopped wearing my protection on a night and I kept asking mum if James would be coming around. She said ‘not tonight’ and left it at that. However, one night I plucked up the courage to ask about my real father and the tale of the sexy young intern unfolded. Mum painted a scene of youthful love and coy courtship, which I believed at the time, but that he was too young to become a father and so mum “let him fly”. I asked her if she ever thought about him and what might have been. She smiled and shook her head saying that I was the only thing that she thought about and how grateful she was to him for giving her such a rare and wonderful gift. There was a lot of hugging and kissing and patting of my (now unpadded) bottom but she did add that she wasn’t going to invite James around again if the thought of him upset me. I told her I wasn’t upset and that I liked James and she should, if she wanted, have him call. She held me at arms-length and looked into my eyes. “Are you sure?” I nodded and mum hugged me close to her chest. “You are the sweetest, understanding, non-judgemental…” The rest of what she was going to say was lost as she kissed the top of my head and hugged even tighter. Yes, I still wanted to get James’s approval and the only way I’d get that was if he came to the house. That weekend he arrived when I was in my room practicing on the piano and singing a new song. Normally this would have seen me sat there in just a nappy but because I didn’t want to dress up, I was wearing a blue jumper and pale blue shorts. There was a knock on the door and he tentatively stuck his head round. “Hi Danni,” he nervously smiled, “that sounds good.” There was a pause. “Can I come in?” I nodded and he came over and patted me on the shoulder. I looked up at him and I saw he was obviously struggling with what he had to say. “I’m sorry for what I said the other day.” He crouched down so we were eye-to-eye. “It’s no business of mine how you dress or what makes you happy. I was silly to have reacted how I did and I didn’t mean to hurt you, or your mother’s, feelings.” I could see there was concern in what he said. “Where I grew up you weren’t allowed to be different… you were accused of all kinds of things… you just… you became a target for…” He struggled to find the right words but I just threw my arms around him and hugged as tightly as I would Julie or mum. Surprisingly he hugged me just as tightly back and that strange sensation rippled through my body and I could feel myself about to pee. I closed my eyes trying to stop myself because now, without any protection, it would show. He released me from his embrace and offered his hand to shake “Friends?” I was hoping he hadn’t seen the damp patch growing on my shorts so, as I held out my hand to shake his; the other was desperately trying to cover my embarrassment. When he’d left the room I looked down and saw the dark stain spreading over my shorts. I rushed to my draw and pulled out a pair of pull-ups and quickly changed and found a similar pair of blue shorts to wear instead. I didn’t want him wondering why I’d changed shorts, if indeed he’d even noticed what I was wearing. However, now I knew he liked me (judging by the hug) I was a lot happier even if my pull-ups were included a little late in the day. Then I had a thought: I might need the pull-ups just in case James should hug again as I definitely didn’t want to have another accident. “I see he’s back.” Julie couldn’t have been more condescending if she’d tried. “I thought we’d got rid of the gold-digger.” I wasn’t sure what one of those was but the way she snarled as she said the word I knew it couldn’t have been anything nice. “I haven’t seen you in any of your lovely clothes… I hope big gob there,” she nodded her head toward the door, “hasn’t upset you or put you off.” She again snarled dismissively. “No, no. I just fancied a change.” I found myself lying and trying to defend him. “Good… in that case, tonight I’ll get you ready for bed like I used to do… story and all.” I smiled a grimace, which she took as agreeing, and almost skipped out of my room pleased that she was doing something for me that she knew James hated. She hadn’t heard any of the conversation I’d just had so didn’t know I was totally OK with him and him with me but I was left, for the first ever time, not wanting to be babied. Julie was off out with her friends so mum, James and I went out shopping and then onto the park for the rest of the day. He had bought a football and despite my misgivings we had a kick-about. The fact I was hopeless didn’t matter as he was encouraging and taught me some moves and how not to be afraid to tackle. My gym teacher at school had tried all manner of methods to get me to do these things yet with James I was eager to try and hopefully change his mind about me... I wanted him to see me as a ‘proper’ boy. It was strange that I didn’t even try to impress the men who taught me I only ever responded to the women teachers. Yet here I was with a man I barely knew, desperate for his approval and attention. When it was time to go home, I was sweating like a pig, James was hardly breathless and mum was smiling from ear to ear at how well we were getting along. It might be surprising for you to know but, even though I could stay up a lot later, being sent to bed at seven o’clock for so long when I was younger meant I really wasn’t a late-night person. Often I’d be in my room, especially on a school day, at seven and be ready for bed well before eight. Weekends were no great difference, Julie had got me trained well, and I’d struggle to sit through a film or TV programme and by nine I’d be slumped against mum or Julie fast asleep. With all the excitement of the day I’d forgotten about Julie’s plan for us to have a ‘baby’ night so when she called me to take my bath at seven I was taken by surprise. I’d been sitting curled up against James and was enjoying the thrill of him and me together. However, Julie appeared in the doorway and called me to her (she wouldn’t come too near to James) but I was comfortable and didn’t want to move. James sort of nudged me and said that my sister wanted me for something and I caught that look on her face that meant I had better get moving. “Come down after your bath,” he shouted as I followed Julie up the stairs, “and we can watch the movie together.” I wanted nothing more than that, even if I fell asleep right at the beginning, I’d still be near him but Julie just grabbed my hand and almost dragged me into the bathroom. She’d already run me a lovely bubbly bath but I could see a look on her face that didn’t bode well for anyone… but me especially. “So, are you two best friends now?” She accused through clenched teeth. “Er… no… er… we… um…” I didn’t know what to say because we were hitting it off and I was so happy but at that moment I began to think I’d done something too awful to contemplate. As she stripped me out of my clothes she angrily said what a terrible man James was, using mum like he did… “He’s only after her money you know.” I didn’t know and I saw no reason to believe her but I could tell from the way my clothes were just slung in a heap that my sister was not happy at all. “You wait and see that I’m right.” Almost distractedly she picked me up and dropped me in the bath. “He’s too… smooth… and way too young… he has to be up to something…” Meanwhile, as she continued her rant, she was thoroughly, though roughly, sponging my body and I wasn’t enjoying this bath time like I normally did. She was still calling him and berating me for being friends as I was dried down and led to my bedroom. She’d already laid out the various pieces of night time clothing and of course, I didn’t want to have anything to do with any of it… just then. “Can we give it a miss tonight Julie?” I asked very nervously. “I don’t feel… er… in the mood.” She stopped drying my hair and as the towel slipped from my head I caught sight of her eyes staring at me in… anger? “So… that evil man has even turned my brother against me,” I tried to speak but wouldn’t have known what to say as she continued her outburst. “I thought I could rely on you not to change or have your head turned by a stupid man but oh no… you have fallen for his… his… con.” She was really angry and upset and I didn’t like to see her this way as it both terrified and made me feel sorry for her. I knew I had to say something… but what? “I do like him but… but… I love my sister and I don’t like to see her upset.” I hugged her and she eventually, after a few seconds of thinking about it, hugged me back. “In that case,” I could feel the power in her hug, “shall we still play our game?” No matter how much I didn’t want to dress as a baby whilst James was in the house I couldn’t let Julie down… and I think she knew it. I smiled and nodded and she rubbed me dry and had me lay out on the floor so she could start. Her expression became more and more relaxed with each bit of lotion or powder that was applied. I’ve always relished her touch because I never thought of it as anything but my sister loving me. She thoroughly smoothed everything into my body with her usual sensual movements that made me completely calm and completely dominated. We giggled like two toddlers as she made it into a game but I was in no doubt she was in command of me and my body. When the preliminaries had been completed she retrieved a large nappy, fitted several pads and, despite my hidden reluctance, pinned me effortlessly into it all. Under normal circumstances I would have been more than happy with this state of affairs but at the back of my mind I was playing out the scenario – what if James sees? I wriggled a bit uncomfortably trying to raise myself up but a hand on my chest kept me laid down. She produced a new pair of plastic pants, completely clear and very crinkly that she took great delight in slipping up my legs and covering the bundle I was now engulfed in. She’d got my white fleecy outfit ready and although I really liked it I certainly didn’t want to wear it then. Even though she had the bodice in her hand I asked her if we could find something else. “What would you rather have?” She didn’t sound angry, which was a relief, but she did sound a little frustrated at my constant interruption of our game. “Er… my blue onesie… or… no… my yellow footer, yes that would be nice, my yellow footer,” I was hoping that it would cover everything and to a certain extent hide my bulging nappy. She went over to my cupboard and had a look checking on various items but it was all to no avail. “I don’t think any of this will fit over your nappy sweetie,” she said as she closed the door and returned with my fleecy PJs. I felt she’d already decided what I was going to wear so wasn’t going to get a choice and that she’d just pretended I would have a say. I wasn’t happy but I know when I’m beaten, and besides, I’d decided I wasn’t going to go back downstairs so James wouldn’t see what I was wearing. I gave in and let Julie fit me into it all and, now I was only thinking of us two, it was one of my favourite items and I loved the way it made me feel and look like a big baby. The bonnet, the mittens and the teddy in the matching outfit all added to the look and when she finally popped in my dummy and got me to settle down in bed, she said it was time for my story. Julie was on form. She had made up a story about a naughty little schoolboy named Jim who was terrorising the playground but a nice schoolboy named Dan came along and saved all the other children from the nasty boy’s clutches. Apparently he wanted to sell them all into becoming living toys in a theme park. The story was getting good and Dan (yes it was me) had the evil park owners, who happened to be nasty Jim’s parents, locked away… There was a knock on my bedroom door and mum and James popped their heads around. “Just come to say night-night sweetheart,” mum said, “we thought you might be coming back down but I see you made other plans.” She came over and kissed me while James was still standing at the door. I could have died as I saw him look and I wasn’t quite sure what expression was on his face because I turned away as soon as I could. “I’m just telling him a story about a naughty boy called JIM,” and she emphasised the name. “He’s a wrong one but thankfully, our hero Dan will save the day.” I don’t think her barbed reference was lost on mum but she lightly kissed her goodnight and retreated out the door. I could tell that Julie was pleased that she’d made her point and that James had seen me all ‘babied’ as she started back into her story. Meanwhile, I was horrified at what had just taken place and that James had witnessed me looking as I did. All I could think about was no matter how much of a boy I wanted to be, all he would see now is me as a huge big baby with a dummy in his mouth. I wanted to cry but thought that would only make things worse and, on top of that, I was desperate for a pee. James was still at the door and he called over. “Good night you two,” he got no response from either of us especially as I was just too embarrassed. “Danni, I think those are great PJs you look really very comfy.” I still couldn’t answer, “Well, good night.” As the door closed there was a huge sigh from Julie and I looked back at her. She wasn’t happy with the way the encounter had turned out and slowly, without a word, slunk off to her own bedroom. Not surprisingly I felt a lot happier with James’s reaction and, even without the rest of Julie’s story, snuggled down to sleep. Once I was settled, and as James had pointed out, very comfortable, I gave in and let myself fill my nappy as I knew Julie had fitted enough protection to last a couple of days if need be. Soon I was fast asleep and it wasn’t even eight thirty. # To be continued… Danni – Part 17 – That Ain’t For Kids Simon came round for a play date. I hadn’t seen him for a while but his mum had called and asked if it was OK as he was missing me. I think we were both shocked when he arrived. His long hair was gone and was now cut very short, his girly clothes had disappeared and he was back in normal boy’s stuff. The main thing that had been missing had also returned… his self-confidence. Meanwhile, I think he was equally shocked to see me wearing boy’s clothes and, with no desire to dress up, we got straight into playing our games. We more or less tore up the garden as we charged around like mad gazelles making more noise than should really be allowed for two boys to make. It was fun and I was happy because it reminded me of our very first play date at my house, I even wanted to get the pool out and splash away but mum said the weather wasn’t warm enough so that was that. Even though I hadn’t minded him being all girly it was great to have him back to the way he was and I fell back in love with the cheeky young lad who first appeared at school when we were dressed alike. At lunch, where he wolfed down everything, I was able to ask him what had happened. “Two men and a lady came to the house,” he said after a huge gulp of milk, “they accused mum of something and told her that I’d be taken away if things didn’t change.” He didn’t go into any finer detail but I could see mum at the sink washing up and pretending she wasn’t listening but she was. “After they left mum cried a lot and hugged me but then cut my hair and… well… took me out to buy new clothes… boy’s clothes” “When did all this happen?” I asked. “Three weeks ago.” “Are you OK with it all?” I wasn’t sure if I would have had trouble with such a change. He looked down at the table top and whispered that there was still one thing. We’d finished lunch and went up to my room so he could tell me in secret what that one thing was. “I still wear a nappy at night.” He sighed. I looked at him and said that didn’t seem so bad. I was about to tell him that I occasionally did as well when he continued. “Those first few nights I was given my PJs I thought would be… great…” he paused thinking how he was going to tell me the rest of his story, “but I couldn’t sleep.” I nodded. “I just tossed and turned all night, every night for about four days until mum reluctantly suggested that she put me back in the stuff she’d made me wear… before.” He shrugged as if he didn’t know why he was having such a problem. “I kept saying no and refusing but I couldn’t sleep so eventually she threatened me with a spanking if I didn’t at least try.” I could see him frown “It worked and I slept like…” “A baby,” I added mischievously. He nodded and a smirk came to his face. “It was strange because… well… I’d got used to wearing… you know… protection and I really didn’t want to go back but…” I finished his sentence, “You enjoyed it really?” “Yes. I never realised that some of the things mum had made me do I missed when she stopped. I didn’t miss the dresses or the punishment but I guess…” “Some of it was fun?” He looked at me in surprise. “No… er… maybe… ummm… I dunno. When mum put me back in a nappy after I couldn’t sleep I would never have guessed just how comfortable it felt - just wearing a nappy? He added incredulously, “It seemed so… silly.” He looked confused by his own thoughts. “But now, that’s all I wear to bed and mum is happy that she has… I dunno… she just seems happy when I wear them.” He shrugged those shoulders as if he’d given up on any more thoughts trying to work out the way he… or his mum were. I hugged my best friend close. “You look a lot happier.” He beamed that huge smile of his and which I hadn’t seen in recent times. “Yes and I think she’s going to send me to an all-boy’s school next year.” I knew I’d be soon changing schools but mum had decided to send me to one locally not the one where Simon was going, which was fee-paying and about an hour’s drive from where he lived. In fact, I’d heard James mention this school to her as a possible place for me to go but she’s never liked the idea of private and privileged education or the idea of me boarding, she wanted me at home with her as much as possible. James had gone to a similar place himself and spoke very highly of it, saying that my talents would be encouraged and I would flourish, but mum was definite in her opinion of exclusivity and she didn’t want me to grow up with a ‘giant entitled chip on my shoulder’. That night I went to bed at my usual time of seven o’clock, slipped into a disposable (and nothing else) taped it on tight and lay there thinking about Simon. This was how I imagined he would be and it gave me a thrill to think of him in this way. I’d seen him in all kinds of outfits, some I really loved, but I think it was this simple night time attire that appealed to me most. As I caressed the soft bundle between my legs thinking about him, hoping that he’d be wearing the same and, perhaps, even thinking of me, I had a strange ‘shiver’ that ran through my body that made me wet my nappy in a way I’d never done before. Mum’s business was once again the object of some serious take-over interest. As mum hadn’t floated shares but gave profit dividends to those who worked for her, she was able to fend off these approaches and keep her staff happy. Her successful advertising agency had recently grabbed a huge contract from a major cereal company for the launch of a new product. It was for a breakfast bar and there were millions budgeted for its world-wide unveiling. What had won her the contract was, once again, Julie’s brilliant mind. Though mum’s agency had come up with some great ideas none had clicked with the client. They wanted something that would be memorable and instant yet the team had been struggling to come up with a suitable hook. That was until mum had brought home the item in question and asked her ‘panel of experts’ (me and Julie) what we thought. We both chomped on the bar in question and simultaneously grimaced. My response was “Yuk”, whilst Julie looked at mum in disgust and said, what have now become very famous words, “Blllaaggg. That ain’t for kids.” Mum knows a good hook when she hears it and immediately took our response into her team, had them work on a presentation that ended with that particular four word peg, offered it to the client who was delighted. It was funny and cut out the boring bit about vitamins and stuff. Whatever their thinking it proved very successful and the TV commercial became a bit of a classic. Although it appeared almost negative advertising, the client loved that the product was aimed at grown-ups but decided that kids would eat it if they wanted to appear grown-up. I definitely didn’t want another taste of the thing and I didn’t think it had anything to do with the fact I was sat in my damp nappy whilst I tried it. For me at least growing up would not rest on eating an awful cereal and fruit-filled piece of cardboard… although those last comments by me were left out of the finished commercial. Despite my occasional nappy use I was growing up. Because James was around so much these days I’d more or less stopped dressing up. However, prompted by Simon, I now preferred to sleep in only a nappy or pull-ups. That influence went further as I asked mum if she’d let me have my hair cut like his, I wanted it short instead of the thick flowing blond bush I ‘d had all my life. Julie thought I’d regret it if I had it cut, she thought it made me look sweet, cute and handsome. Mum was neither for it or against it but said she liked the way I looked. James encouraged me to ‘give it a try’ and as he pointed out, ‘It would grow back if I didn’t like it’. His opinion mattered to me so I asked if he’d take me to the barbers to have it done. There was a cheap and cheerful place on the High Street that I’d seen on my way home from school and where I’d noticed other kids lined up waiting their turn. Up until then mum had always cut my hair, it was just one of the many things she did, so this was going to be a new experience for me. We arrived early one Saturday morning and there were four people waiting and a young lad about 4 years-old already in the chair. I noticed his mum looking nervously on as the boy flinched each time the barber snipped away at some of his fine hair. I think I was just as anxious as that little boy. Eventually it was my turn and James had been very chatty and encouraging. The man with the scissors said to him, “How do you want your son’s hair?” James looked a bit flustered and almost began to say I wasn’t his son however, when he saw that I was giggling at the question he said, “Cut it all off.” The barber put down his scissors, picked up the electric hair-clippers and on James’s recommendation of a size 4 (whatever that was) simply removed my thick pelt (that’s how James referred to it) in minutes. I was shocked to see how quickly my hair was dispatched, normally mum took ages over each hair but this was done in just a few swift front-to-back strokes. The boy in the mirror returning my stare… wasn’t me. I’d been changed and it took a few seconds to come to terms with how different I now appeared. I didn’t know if I’d made the biggest mistake of my life but James’s smile (and little whistle of appreciation) made me feel good about myself. Having said that, I was really glad I was wearing my pull-ups because I let out a nervous little pee when the buzzing clippers first touched my head. Thankfully my jeans didn’t show the accident so no one was any the wiser but all the way home I knew what I’d done and wondered if the little boy in the chair earlier might have had a similar mishap. Mum hardly recognised me and Julie just tutted in disgust but, with James’s support, I was really happy with my new look. I think my hair was even a little shorter than Simon’s but I hoped we’d look the same next time we met up. In the meantime, James and I started a game of football in the garden, something I rarely did but, with my new look, thought this was what is expected of a rough tough lad. It didn’t occur to me that the reason I spent most of the day itching was because of all the fine hair that had somehow found its way down my back and invaded everywhere. I was scratching like mad until the evening when mum suggested a bath. I wandered upstairs to the bathroom only to find that Julie had already filled it full of soapy bubbles. My hoped for independence was not going to happen anytime soon as she stripped me and put my itchy outfit in the laundry basket. I took the opportunity of leaping in unaided but Julie still decided she would make sure I was clean (and itch free). I hardly had time to play with my toys or even enjoy the bubbles much before she started a detailed scrub of all my bits and pieces. She spent more time than usual cleaning my ‘willy’ as she said, with a knowing wink, that it now needed extra care and attention. I wasn’t sure what she meant but it was giving me a very strange feeling as she scrubbed away. Once out and dry she led me to my bedroom and I told her I didn’t need any further help as I just needed a pair of pull-ups and I’d be done. She raised her eyebrows and went to the draw to retrieve one. She then went to my wardrobe and looked through all my fantastic baby items and fingered her way through them all. “Are you sure you don’t want to wear one of these?” and she pulled out a blue onesie with a teddy on the front. I shook my head and waited naked for her to give me my protective pants. “What about this… you know this is one of your favourites…” “No.” I was being adamant that I wanted nothing other than to wear the same as my best friend Simon. She pulled out my ‘Jason’ outfit. “I haven’t seen you in this for a while… don’t you like it anymore?” Actually, I did still like it. I liked all my clothes but at that moment I didn’t want to wear anything but my disposable. “Nothing else… thank-you.” I got up to get my own pants from the draw but she spun round and said how much of a shame it was that I’d lost my individuality, yes that was the word, and was now influenced by people who wanted to make me… boring. She carried on about how I used to be unique, different and special but, thanks to other people, had become dull and like every other boring boy. I was hurt by her comments. I liked the fact that she thought of me as special… but now I wasn’t. I sat on the side of my bed a little numb rubbing my hand through my short hair, wondering if it was its length that had made me special when she said something that will stay with me for ever. “Danni you are unique, don’t try to be like everyone else.” I could tell from the tone of her voice she wasn’t angry with me but was sincere in her opinion. “It’s up to you of course but, neither mum nor me would want to change you even if others do… remember that. We love you for being the way you are. For you… being you.” She opened the wardrobe door wider, “Enjoy all the things you like… there’s not one thing in here that doesn’t have happy memories for you.” It was true. I loved my stuff. I loved wearing my stuff and until Julie had pointed it out, I hadn’t realised how much I’d missed it. I could feel the tremor start on my bottom lip. My loving sister immediately came over and put her arms around me and hugged tightly. Tears had welled up in my eyes but Julie soothed me with her gentle cuddling and sweet words. Soon I was calm again and Julie fastened me into a disposable. “Is that all you need?” She pulled out a pair of plastic pants and without me saying a word, fed them up my thighs. Once in place she then went and found the short blue onesie, slipped it over my head and snapped it into place between my legs. A teddy and a dummy were also included without so much as a sign of any resistance to her calm and caring influence. She pulled up my blanket and kissed me good-night. “You are my sweet, sweet brother… and I’ll always look after you.” I’d not had chance to go to the toilet before all this took place but I was now wrapped up and so very, very comfortable I wasn’t going to let that worry me. If I peed I peed… and as I settled snuggly under the cover that’s just what I did. # To be continued… Danni – Part 18 – Decisions It may seem surprising to some people just how easily I’m influenced by my sister. I can’t help it; she has always been there guiding, teaching and controlling my life. Even when I think I’m gaining some kind of independence, thinking for myself and making my own decisions, she only has to say or do something and I’m straight back to being a dependent little kid again. My sister is very clever. When I was younger she exerted unbelievable authority over every aspect of my life, now I’m older, she lets me think I’m the one with the ideas, the one in control, but I’m not. She lets out the leash so that I think I’m running free but quickly I’m reined in and I find myself once again in her power. Having said that, my sister has other interests now so I’m not the centre of her thoughts or deeds and the passing cruel streak she occasionally inflicted on me seems to have disappeared. Now she is much more thoughtful when she desires a response from me and of course, she knows exactly how and when to push those buttons. Laid there, once more in my onesie, plastic pants and a soaked nappy the only thing that had changed – I was now a short-haired baby in need of her love and affection. After her words of warning not to become boring I’d made no attempt to stop her as she let me slip back into my babyish ways. In fact, I’d been relieved when she’d fed the blue onesie with my favourite image of the teddy bear on the front over my head and snapped it into place… it was like a ‘Welcome Back’ hug. I’d missed it more than I’d thought and was more or less still wriggling in delight when I woke up. At that moment I desperately wanted either Julie or mum to come and change me but for some time now I’d not really depended on anyone else to get me up and ready for the day ahead. I pulled back the bedclothes and was pleased to see the way I was dressed. The nappy had done its soaking duty and the plastic pants had kept everything else dry and my teddy, well my teddy just looked so proud of me. You can always rely on your stuffed toys to make you feel happy. I waddled to the bathroom, looked in the mirror and saw another happy image looking back. My short hair hadn’t made me more boyish, in fact, with the teddy on the front of my onesie, I don’t think I’ve ever looked so… so… young. What’s more, at that moment I didn’t mind… although I quickly stripped out of it all when I heard James knocking on the door asking if I was going to be long. That was a weird moment. Part of me was so pleased to be back in my onesie, the other was desperate for James not to see me dressed that way. As I left the bathroom I sneaked my night time stuff under the towel and scurried back to my room. Thankfully there was no one else around to see me looking guilty and once back in its safe environment I was able to get ready for school without any problems. I decided against pull-ups on this occasion so slipped into a pair of white briefs, pulled on my grey shorts and energetically fought my way into my yellow school shirt and jumper. Miss Simms was shocked at the ‘new’ me. She said I looked “Nice” but she didn’t seem too certain on that point. However, that was all soon forgotten as we had a new song to learn, in which I had several solo sections and was to be performed with the choir later in the day. The teacher, as she did almost every time we were together, patted my bottom and seeing as I had no padding looked at me in a quizzical way. I’m not sure she quite understood why my change - hair and padding now all gone - but carried on and spent the morning practicing the new piece, which I must say I really enjoyed. It started with me singing the intro, then the choir joined in, I had a solo verse and the choir re-joined and I ended the piece solo again. Miss Simms was delighted with the way it all came together and was very pleased at how quickly we all picked up the song. Later, as the school assembled in the main hall to hear the Principal’s announcements and listen to our song, Miss Simms asked if I was going to be OK. I was nervous but excited. I liked the new piece and thought I was singing quite well. She patted my bottom again and emphasised her words. “Will you be OK?” Now it was my turn to look quizzical. “Do you not need your… protection?” She whispered the last word. “Er… no… I should be fine,” I shrugged my shoulders. “Are you sure? I can get you sorted if you need it.” She looked hopefully at me. “No, I’ll be OK. I…” “I have what you need in the classroom,” she interrupted, “if you think you might be too nervous. It’s quite scary I know singing a song for the first time in front of your school friends and teachers… and I’d hate for you to have an accident.” Now she emphasised the last word. Up until that moment I was nervous but confident about my ability to perform but suddenly I had doubt in my head. What if I did make a mistake? What if I did pee my pants? I didn’t think I could really take the chance and Miss Simms was willing to make sure I didn’t have to. She saw the look of doubt creep across my face, grabbed my hand and led me back to the empty classroom. There she sat me on her big desk, pulled down my shorts and underpants, opened up her huge handbag that was lying against the chair and took out all the things she needed. “OK Danni, let’s get you ready… and protected.” As the assembly would be starting soon she got straight to it; quickly spreading lotion, sprinkling powder and slipping a terry nappy under my bottom. This she hastily pinned into place and suddenly, from nowhere, produced a pair of pink plastic pants, which she wriggled up my legs and into position. I couldn’t get over how speedily she performed this miraculous change because it only seemed moments before I was back in my shorts and wondering down the corridor back to the main hall. The choir was already assembled and, with a lingering and reassuring pat on my now well-padded bottom, I joined them on stage. I was slightly taken aback at just how organised Miss Simms had been and how protective she was to make sure I didn’t humiliate myself again. The thickness between my legs was indeed comforting as I stepped to the front of the stage to begin the song. My nerves disappeared almost immediately and I launched into it as we’d rehearsed. Whilst I sang the opening lines the choir gathered behind me and, right on cue, they burst into the chorus. It all worked perfectly and at the end, when I finished my final note, there was a moment’s silence. Those brief seconds of quiet soon gave way to wild applause from everyone assembled, including the normally indifferent Principal, who smiled and clapped along with everyone else. I think it had been led by Miss Simms but even the teachers appeared moved by the song. Whilst I stood there, happy and surprised at the reaction, a shiver ran up my spine. It was like an electric bolt had travelled to my brain and at that moment and without any warning or ability to stop myself, I let flow. I could feel my pee soaking in and leaving a warming glow but at that moment I was so glad Miss Simms had had the foresight to think I might need such a necessary safeguard. Thankfully, I don’t think anyone else noticed and once the applause had died down, school was finished for the day and everyone was dismissed. Julie was waiting in the playground to take me home and I was excitedly telling her about how well the song had gone down. She was saying she’d heard the end of it and all the applause from where she was, even the other mums and dads waiting outside were commenting. I told her it was me that was singing the solo and she smiled, grabbed my hand and looked very proud of me. My wet and expanded nappy didn’t stop me babbling on all the way home about how fantastic the day had been and how I hoped Miss Simms would let me sing more solos. Back home I didn’t change out of my school uniform or my damp and thick nappy. I was still on a high about the performance and I wanted to repeat it to the family when mum got home. In the meantime, I didn’t want anything to break the spell that seemed to have engulfed me. After dinner, with everyone assembled, I sang the song totally solo and, even with my shorts fully expanded by the wet nappy, I confidently sang my heart out. Mum, Julie and James all reacted the same as the school had and I was swamped with compliments, which made me feel very proud. I didn’t mention my ‘accident’ but mum did put in a call to Miss Simms to tell her what a fantastic job she was doing, encouraging me to take solos and helping me become more confident. I’m almost sure Miss Simms never mentioned that she needed to fit my protection and I didn’t want to say anything either, just in case anyone thought any less of me. Just after seven I went back to my room to get ready for bed. I’d cast off my jumper and shirt and slipped down my shorts when Julie came in. She saw me standing there in just a soaked nappy and thick pink plastic pants and smiled. “Did you need that,” she looked directly at my bulge, “to sing.” “No… er… well… it made me more confident.” She came over and stroked the plastic padding. “I haven’t seen these before. They look a bit thicker than the ones you normally wear. Who gave you these,” she asked accusingly, “was it James?” Had that been the case she would not have been pleased but as it was I had to think quickly. “No… er… Miss Simms bought them when we went away to that competition. I’d forgotten mine and I was quite scared so she… got… me… some” I was feeling less and less confident about my explanation but, because it wasn’t James who had supplied them, Julie didn’t seem bothered about it being anyone else. She appeared to be less worried and offered to help me get ready for bed. I was so thankful that she wasn’t delving any deeper that I agreed. That night I slept in an ultra-thick nappy, my ‘rediscovered’ frilly ‘panties of excellence’ and a pink onesie with cartoon characters all over it. It had been a very exciting day and I was very tired. I even declined a story from Julie and settled down quickly between the blankets. She slipped one of my stuffed toys in next to me but on this occasion left me without a dummy. I didn’t need it because warm, safe, comfy and tired I was soon heading for dreamland. I woke up dry but had another thought that was filling my mind… and that was… which should be my next school. The reason that notion was uppermost in my head was that part of a dream that I could remember involved being tied down and made to recite some poem over and over again as part of an entrance exam. Don’t ask me the ‘whys and wherefores’ because I have no idea why that should be the case. However it had got me thinking very hard about any choices. Mum had already made her decision. James had offered an alternative. I was keen to give the one Simon was going to attend some thought and I had heard Miss Simms offering her advice on trying to get into one of the church academies, that favoured singers and musicians. She was of the opinion that I’d walk into any such school and they would be “falling over themselves to have me…” well… so I overheard her say to mum one evening. The way Simon had excitedly described his new school; what they did and what an adventure (not being with his mum I suppose) it would be had got him all fired up. He desperately wanted me to join him and I have to say I liked the idea… a bit. My head was full of all the possibilities, although mum had already said where she was sending me, but perhaps I might be able to change her mind. However, Julie came into my room just as I was about to release my onesie and I thought I’d ask her for an opinion. She thought for a moment and then steered me towards the mirror. My onesie had drifted up past my waist and the main item I could see were my special ‘panties of excellence’ with my nappy underneath. I wasn’t sure why she had me look at my reflection so intently but after a few moments she asked me if I liked what I saw. I wriggled uncomfortably at the question. “Er… yyeeessss.” I said not knowing where Julie was going with this. She was standing behind me with her hands on my shoulders. “Do you like it when we play dress up?” I squirmed a bit under her gaze. In a low voice I responded “Mm mmm…” and nodded. She patted my frilly silky protection and turned me around to face her. “I doubt very much if they’ll let you do that if you go away.” I looked back at her stunned. It hadn’t occurred to me that I might have to give up something to go to school. “But why,” I asked sorrowfully. “It’s only playing isn’t it?” She hugged me. “They wouldn’t understand you Danni.” She stroked my hair to calm me down. “Schools find it hard to appreciate those who are special… they just want to make them all the same… like James.” I wasn’t sure what he had to do with anything but of course she had her own agenda to pursue. “Look how boring he is.” She continued, “He hasn’t got a scrap of the talent or individuality that you have… you really don’t want to end up like him.” I knew she was meaning well, for me at least, but this attack on James didn’t make sense, after all, I quite liked the man. Whilst I was pondering her words she got me laid back out on my bed and proceeded to strip away my protection. Even though I was dry she smiled as she applied the first wet wipe “Of course you wouldn’t get this done for you either.” Her busy hands cleaned and powdered and I just lay there enjoying the attention. As I lifted my legs for her to get a better access she produced a pair of pull-ups and slipped them on. She then grabbed my shirt and jumper and had me wriggle into them before finally allowing me to slide into my school shorts. Now looking in the mirror I didn’t see a little baby but a schoolboy and I wondered at such a quick and effortless change. Is that how it would be? Would it be as simple as that? Recently I’d gone weeks without dressing up, and although I’d missed it - I had done it. Would I be able to dress up when I came home in the school holidays? Would I want to? Would I be changed for ever and, more importantly, is that what I wanted? I knew mum had more or less made up her mind as to which school I’d be going but, although it had been mentioned, I hadn’t been consulted in any way. At school I’d asked a few of the other kids what they were doing and nearly all of them would be going to the same school mum had earmarked for my future education. Miss Simms still hoped she’d be able to convince mum about the Choir School option – apparently they were excellent both academically and musically and, as she pointed out, performance was part of their strict but inspiring philosophy. I had no idea what that meant but she seemed most definite as to that being where I should continue my next level of education. That night after dinner, Julie had gone to her friends, James wasn’t around and it was just me and mum. Although I knew she had a ton of work to do we sat on the sofa to watch some TV. I snuggled up close and she alternated between stroking and kissing my head. “Mum.” I cautiously started. “Yes sweetheart.” She kissed the top of my head but continued to watch the screen. “Er… senior school… ermmm… do I get a say in where I want to go?” I was really quite nervous of asking the question. I didn’t know if I had any right to ask but some of the other boys in my class had said they had said to their parents where they wanted to go. Mum turned off the TV and looked at me. “Of course sweetheart… do you have any thoughts?” “Mmmm yes. I was thinking I might like to go to the same one as Simon.” “But that’s a boarding school sweetheart… I thought you’d want to go to the local school and be able to come home every night.” She seemed a bit uneasy at my choice. “Well… what about the one Miss Simms has talked about where I’d be singing all the time?” I enthused. “That’s the same… you’d be away for weeks on end.” She looked pained at the very idea. “I don’t think I could bear not having my sweet boy here with me.” “But I like to sing mum…” “They have a choir at senior school… er… I think.” Now she seemed doubtful. “I’m sure you’d find friends to sing with… “But Miss Simms said…” “Yes, yes I know her suggestion. She says it would be ideal for you and, I have to agree it would be just the thing to develop your talents but…” “Is it because we’d have to pay?” I innocently asked having no idea how much money private schooling cost, or indeed how much we had. Mum smiled. “That’s not a problem and that’s not something you should be worrying about… I think we could manage the fees.” I had no idea how rich mum was. I know Julie had said that James was after her money, a gold digger, but money just didn’t mean anything to me and although we lived in a nice house with gardens and such things, it never occurred to me we were any different to anyone else. “OK. I tell you what.” Mum looked teasingly at me, “You think on it for a few days and then tell me which you prefer… and then… if you’re positive… we’ll make some enquiries.” I snuggled up closer. “Thanks mum.” Danni – Part 19 – The Choir I really couldn’t make up my mind. Leaving mum and Julie didn’t appeal but being with Simon at an all-boys school did. Miss Simms was adamant that my future should be at one of the music academies and she favoured one she knew where the boys were boarders and their time was split between music and academics. I couldn’t think what that would be like because, although I liked to sing, I didn’t want to be somewhere I didn’t know anyone, especially as I’d be away from home. Miss Simms offered a solution. She knew the choir master at one of these schools and suggested, as she was going to visit him that maybe I would like to go along and check the place out for myself. As she pointed out; at least I would know the alternative, even if in the end I chose somewhere else. To me this sounded a great idea and I begged mum to let me go. We would be away for the weekend, leaving on Friday, driving to her friends and returning Sunday afternoon. This, Miss pointed out to mum, would give me ample time to see the way things were set up and to chat to some of the other boys who were boarders there. Although mum wasn’t keen on the ‘churchy’ aspect of the school she could hardly refuse as I was so enthusiastic about the trip. I liked the idea of singing in a choir, and, as my teacher pointed out; the choir had a recording contract and produced a couple of albums each year as well as making several TV appearances. I was very excited about the trip… to say the least. After a few conversations with Miss Simms mum eventually agreed to me going. We would be setting off straight from school so in preparation mum had packed a bag to take in with me. It had been another great day both at play and in lessons and, when she had the time, Miss would talk about some of the things I could expect when I got to the new school. I was really looking forward to seeing the place, which was apparently attached to an old cathedral. After the end-of-lessons bell sounded I found my way to Miss Simms’s room and sat waiting whilst she finished marking some papers. She wasn’t long but I was amazed at just how quickly the school emptied. It also surprised me just how quiet the place was once the kids had all gone home. “Eerie” that was what she called it when I commented on this astonishing event. Soon she was ready but just before we left she patted my bottom again as she was prone to do. “You don’t appear to have your protection on do you?” She said seriously. “No Miss.” I stammered. “I don’t need it all the time I’m…” “Not to worry,” She pulled out the same big handbag from last time. “I can get you sorted now.” “But I… I…” She looked at me as if I was a small child who’d forgotten something important. She wasn’t mad but it was something that had to be put right. “It’s a long journey Danni and I’m hoping to do it without stopping so…” She pulled out a disposable. “But I don’t need them. I travel with mum all the time without…” But it was no use. She pulled down my shorts, laid me out on her desk and quickly applied a covering of baby powder. I was quite shocked. It wasn’t something I expected but I knew better than to argue. Once again the training of compliance by Julie meant I just lay there and let her get on with it. She added a couple of pads to the disposable then quickly pulled it up tightly and fastened me in. It felt huge and the yellow plastic pants that followed crinkled loudly as they were fed up my legs. With some difficulty she pulled up my shorts but they hardly fit at all. She smiled at the finished product. “That should keep you safe for the journey. Now, let’s get going.” Holding her hand I waddled out to the car and got in. I wasn’t as happy about being nappied as I would normally have been because I saw this as something I just didn’t need. The fact that my shorts barely covered this huge amount of padding was uncomfortable and not easing my mood. However, once in the car she noticed how grumpy I’d become and told me to take off my shorts if they were giving me trouble. I slipped them down and was left wearing just a pair of ballooning, shiny yellow plastic pants, which incidentally matched the yellow of my school shirt and jumper. “There you are,” she smiled “comfortable?” Surprisingly I was and once buckled into my seat we were off. The plastic pants made a noise if I moved but they were also very silky and it was a strange, but nice, sensation slipping around in my seat. Miss started singing a song and before long, I’d forgotten all about what I was wearing and the miles just shot by. When I’d sung something particularly well she patted my naked leg and said what a good boy I was and we’d try and sing it in harmony or in a different melody. We drank orange juice and ate chocolate and I think she was having as much fun as me and her constant encouragement and praise made me feel terrific. I loved pleasing her. We’d been travelling about two hours when I told her that I needed to go to the toilet. She looked down and smiled. “Well Danni, that’s what all the padding is for sweetheart… just do what comes naturally.” “But can’t we just stop… Please Miss I’d rather not…” “Danni, the traffic is building up and I don’t want to delay us any more than I have to… and besides…” She took a slightly different tack. “It would make life easier for me if you just used the nappy when you’re wearing one. It’s what makes you so… ‘special’.” It was that description of me again as being ‘special’ and although I didn’t see why wetting myself made me so… I know to do just as I’m told. Besides, this was my teacher she must know best and should never be argued with. Mum would have a fit if she thought I was giving Miss Simms any sort of back-chat. I couldn’t hold it in any longer so reluctantly I sat quietly whilst I drained my bladder and filled the nappy. She was well aware of what I was doing and patted my leg. “There you go… well done. I bet you feel better now.” I did but it also meant that I had to spend quite some time in a squishy nappy. Sometime later we pulled up outside an old cottage on the outskirts of the city. I looked at Miss Simms and indicated that perhaps I should try and put my shorts on as I didn’t want to meet anyone dressed in just my protection. However, try as I might I had to stop the struggle with them and gave up. A few moments later an elderly man came to the car door to greet us. “Hi Stanley, hope we’re not late.” Miss Simms beamed at the man who beamed back. “This is Danni…” “Hello young man,” he said as I clambered out of the car, “I’ve heard so much about you from your teacher.” “This is Mister Cooper,” she added, “If you came to this school he’d be one of your tutors and choir master.” “Hello Sir… pleased to meet you,” I was trying to hide my yellow pants and thick nappy behind the bag mum had packed. “Come in, come in, we don’t want you standing on the doorstep.” And we entered a lovely warm old room that was filled with sheet music, a grand piano, an ancient looking sofa and a roaring fire. I was embarrassed as I walked because of the loud rustling noise my plastic pants made but neither of the two adults appeared to notice or care. Indeed Miss just guided me in and told me to put my bag down next to a hat stand. I didn’t really want to do that as it would expose my embarrassment but she took it from me then patted my bottom towards the sofa. With each step the rustling noise made me think I was attracting too much attention but, even when I sat down amid a flurry of scrunching noises, neither batted an eyelid. I was still wet and wanted to get Miss Simms attention in the hope that I could go somewhere and change. Unfortunately, Mr Cooper had brought in tea and biscuits and it would have been rude to excuse myself at that point. The choirmaster was very jolly and, in between talking to Miss, he was telling me about the school and choir. He hoped I’d find it a place that I’d like to attend and said that there were other boys, about two hundred of them, from the ages of eight to sixteen and that I would no doubt fit in very well. Despite that fact that I was feeling self-conscious about sitting around in my wet nappy nothing about my dilemma was mentioned. I didn’t know whether it was because many boys at the school wore nappies for one reason or another, or he was just a very polite host. Whatever the reason I liked the man and he seemed very encouraging. I began to forget about how I dressed and when he asked if I would do him the honour of a song I leapt at the opportunity. Miss Simms gathered herself at the piano and suggested I try the song that I’d sung in assembly a few days back and which had been so well received. I’m not sure if I looked ridiculous or not, standing at the piano in my school uniform and bloated plastic pants, but as soon as she played the first note I forgot all my reservations and launched into the song. “My boy… my boy… that was superb.” Mr Cooper seemed happy with my attempt. “Absolutely beautiful… exquisite… a triumph.” He came over and rested his hands on my shoulders and looked seriously into my eyes. “We would love to have someone of your talent join us here. In fact, if it were possible, I’d be more than happy to put your name down now.” He questioned Miss Simms about my other academic achievements, which she spoke of highly and he just nodded his head and mumbled to himself ‘wonderful, wonderful’. He requested another song and I asked if he’d like to hear one I’d written myself. He looked surprised but nodded as Miss left the piano to me. My song writing was still at a very early stage but there was one I’d written, actually inspired by Julie called ‘Storyteller’ that I was quite proud of. When I finished Miss Simms was obviously impressed and clapped wildly, Mr Cooper clapped politely, I don’t think it was his kind of thing but he said he enjoyed it and that I certainly showed a great deal of promise. Both of them patted my padded bottom as I went back to sit down on the sofa. By now it was getting late, well at least for me and I was stifling a yawn as the two grown-ups chatted away. I asked if I could be excused and Miss looked dismayed that she’d been neglecting me. “Sorry Danni… let me put you to bed.” She held out her hand for me to hold. “Same room as usual?” she called over her shoulder to Mr Cooper as I was guided up some creaking stairs. “Yes, I’m sure you know your way by now.” My bag had been deposited at the foot of a large double bed and I thought this was terrific to have such a large bed to myself. Miss went to the bathroom to run some hot water in the sink and whilst she did that I began to undress. She returned just before I slipped out of the plastic pants and suggested I did that in the bathroom. I wondered in and was astounded to see laid out on top of a cabinet a plastic changing mat surrounded by a jar of petroleum jelly, baby powder, pink baby lotion and a box of wet-wipes. She began to help me off with my soaked nappy but I pulled away saying that I could manage myself. She looked down at me and tutted with a smile. “I promised your mother I’d look after you… that means making sure you are completely clean and tidy and… protected.” I knew mum would have packed my pull-ups and boxer shorts to sleep in and that’s what I wanted to wear but Miss had other ideas. I stood at the sink naked as she scrutinized that I washed thoroughly. Even after I finished she lay me out on the changing mat and wiped me all over again… I wasn’t sure what she thought I’d missed. I asked her if I might just wear my boxers but she said that, as I was in a strange bed, in a strange room, in a strange house she thought it would be better if I was well protected. “We didn’t want any unfortunate accidents”. It was obvious I wasn’t going to have a say and if Miss told mum I’d acted up in any way I’m sure she’d have been none too happy. This time she took what seemed ages (well compared to how she’d done it in the past), to make sure I was well protected. The powder, followed by a thick terry nappy, stuffed with pads… although this time she added a pair of thick red rubber pants that covered the lot. There was no doubt about it I was very, very well protected, in fact I felt huge and impenetrable and for a brief second I was angry. I wanted this trip to show I was growing up, to prove I could make my own decisions, to be a schoolboy not an infant. However, when she’d finished Miss Simms kissed me on the forehead and said that was what makes me so ‘unique’; the fact that I can enjoy the pleasures of being a toddler, whist being a fantastic maturing young man, and she hoped that wouldn’t change for a long time yet. It is hard to protest when someone is being so nice to you and I was feeling very comfortable wrapped up the way I was. Just as I crawled to get under the sheets with my brilliant puffy red bottom stuck in the air, Mr Cooper stood at the door and said ‘Goodnight’. I was horrified that he saw me once again dressed as nothing more than a big baby when I’d wanted to prove I was like all the other boys in his school. He saw my look and came over and sat on the side of the bed. “Don’t worry Danni, there are lots of boys of all ages who wear protection on a night. You must not worry about such things and, as long as you feel safe and comfortable, that’s all that matters. Miss Simms thinks you are a very special boy and I think I’d agree with her assessment. So have a nice night’s sleep and tomorrow I’ll introduce you to some of the boys.” “Thank you sir,” I whispered as he patted my head and excused himself. Miss Simms wished me a good night as well, turned off the light and followed the choirmaster down stairs. I could hear the creaking as they descended and settled down in this huge area I’d been given to sleep in. I dropped off almost immediately but was slightly disturbed when Miss Simms got into bed with me. Once again she smelled wonderful as she clutched me to her bosom and I drifted off under the sweet fragrant spell of her perfume. During the night I had a few different dreams. One was of meeting other boys who were all dressed in nappies and singing hymns… the other was of thick vegetation with tendrils curling about my body and holding me tight. I was scared and couldn’t release myself so the inevitable happened… I wet myself. Oddly enough this was a recurring dream and I must have visited it about three or four times… by morning I was very tired and very wet. Miss Simms, who was already dressed, roused me from my slumber, checked my soaked nappy and decided she’d change me after breakfast. It was much later than I normally slept and Mr Cooper had already left to go to the church for choir practice. Miss said we’d meet him there once we were ‘organised’. It was odd sitting at the table in my huge red pants and soggy nappy drinking orange juice and eating jam on toast. After breakfast Miss saw to my needs by wiping me down and cleaning me up. The thick nappy was replaced with my pull-ups, in fact she insisted that I wear two pairs and she included a blue pair of snap on plastic pants, “for added protection” she said. I don’t know why as I knew they weren’t needed but again I thought it wise not to argue with my teacher. Besides, I was meeting some new people and I might get a bit nervous so I began to think that perhaps she was correct after all. I was hoping to wear my jeans over it all as I would have done at home and especially as it was the weekend. I also didn’t want to be wearing school shorts when I met the other boys, I didn’t want them thinking I was still a junior. However, Miss efficiently slipped a pair of dark blue shorts that I’d never seen before up and over my new security padding. They appeared to hug everything tightly but were longer than my school shorts, finishing about two inches above my knees. I baulked at wearing them and said so. I wasn’t going out dressed like that and she could tell my mother if she liked but I wasn’t going. However, she patiently showed me that these were very different. They were soft and had a lovely feel if you stroked them. Miss said they were made from velvet they were ‘special’, like me and how good I looked in them. I wasn’t convinced but as I rubbed my hands across the fabric I liked the texture and thought they did indeed feel very ‘special’. She went on about how smart I looked, how much they suited me, and anyway the boys we were going to meet would also be wearing something similar as it was part of the uniform they wore when they were performing on stage. I still wasn’t happy but I supposed that if everyone else would be wearing the same then I didn’t have to worry. Eventually she talked me into it and said that we’d only be at the church for a short while so I had nothing to worry about. I made her promise that I could change once we got back. Reluctantly I gave in and about ten minutes later we arrived at the cathedral where I could hear some wonderful voices. Members of the public were allowed in and I was surprised at how many people the choir attracted even when they were only practising. We stood at the back for a few minutes listening to a rousing hymn, which I have to say made me desperate to join in. My velvet shorts had made some kind of impression because a young girl (about three years-old) rubbed my leg and I heard her say to her mother that I felt like her teddy bear. I looked around and she was smiling and holding a rather sleek looking stuffed toy in her hand. I didn’t get the opportunity to be embarrassed because as the choir finished their song Miss took my hand and led us down to the front. In the quiet of the church all I was aware of was the soft rustle of my plastic pants as I walked and that many eyes were now watching our progress down the aisle. When I got to the front we were greeted by Mr Cooper but I noticed that the entire choir were wearing cassocks which covered them completely. I became very self-conscious as the boys looked at me and I could feel humiliation creep up my body in the form of a hot flush. However, I followed the boys into a backroom, apparently practice had ended for the time being, where they disrobed and I noticed that it was only the very young boys who wore shorts as part of their uniform, the older boys, those over twelve, wore long trousers. Mr Cooper introduced me to the group and I nervously started asking my questions. He then led Miss Simms off to another room and left us boys to chat without any adult supervision. The boys were fun and friendly and I liked them a lot. They all loved singing and enjoyed the fact that the school was famous; their albums selling very well and, according to a nice lad called David, the year before they’d had a Number One hit in the Christmas Classic album charts. They told how much they enjoyed boarding and that the teachers were all fantastic. Apparently not all the pupils were in the choir, just a select few and places were much sought after. It was great to see such enthusiasm for a school and none that I spoke to wanted to be anywhere else. Even the youngest, who I thought might miss their parents, were saying how brilliant the school was. I asked about the uniform and the cassocks and the amount of rehearsals they had to do but no one was complaining. Surprisingly two boys stroked my shorts and commented on how ‘fantastic’ they were. I asked when they wore theirs but they shrugged and said that they didn’t. One said that in some old photographs he’d seen the choir wearing a ‘school boy’ uniform but they didn’t now. Miss Simms had lied to me so I was in a bit of a dilemma because although no one at the school wore them I’d got used to the shorts and liked the style. After about an hour I have to admit I was really sold on the place. Some of the boys had said that we would all be boarding together and I liked that idea, especially as a couple of them reminded me of Simon. The choir master returned to take control of his noisy flock, while Miss said that perhaps we should go leaving the boys to practice. I was reluctant to leave the choir as they sounded fantastic. Meanwhile, at the back of my mind I was hoping I could perhaps persuade mum to let me come to this place. Miss Simms asked if I had any questions for her and if I did, “…why don’t we do it over an ice cream sundae?” By then I’d forgotten all about my short trousers (and the padding underneath) and was only eager to have the promised treat. Miss seemed as excited as I was about the school and was even happier when I said how much I’d enjoyed meeting all the boys and that they had just about convinced me to join them. However, I wondered, would I have to sit some kind of exam? Miss smiled. “You’ve already passed the entrance exam. They have seen your school results and the songs you sung for the choir master were enough to guarantee you a place… should you decide this is what you want.” As I tucked into my strawberry and vanilla ice-cream sundae I felt content and convinced I could be happy at such a school. After the treat she took me to the main school building, which was slightly away from the cathedral, and I got chance to look around the grounds and inspect the boy’s rooms, which would be where I’d be boarding (she kept saying) when I came. After that we visited all the various sights the city had to offer and thought that it was a really nice place to live. By the time we returned back to Mr Cooper’s house we’d been away nearly the entire day but thankfully, he had found time to make us all a meal. In all the excitement I had wet my pants. I don’t know why I just didn’t think I could ask to go to the toilet so I didn’t. I was afraid to mention it to Miss in case she saw it as an opportunity to wrap me in a heavy nappy so I put up with a very soggy pull-up for the rest of the time before bed. After dinner Mr Cooper asked what I thought about the school and my possible school friends and I was very positive. I was still wearing my velvet shorts and although he hadn’t commented on them I thought I should ask the question. “Miss said that the boys wear shorts like these when they perform, is that true?” I looked across at Miss Simms who was smiling weakly at me. “It was a uniform that they used to wear… well… something similar… though not in velvet…” He raised his eyebrows, “However, there has been talk by the governors, who would like to see a return that particular style.” He smiled. “They think that the ‘Retro’ look would set us as apart from other choirs.” “They would look stunning…” she said hopefully to Mr Cooper. “Yes, well, maybe… but the boys have got to be happy. Tell me Danni… do you like them?” Now I was being put on the spot I wasn’t sure what to say because I was torn. I didn’t like the way Miss had tricked me into wearing them but, they were unlike anything else I had ever worn and did like them. “Er… they’re alright… they’re comfy…” and I had a sudden thought, “Some of the boys said that they liked them as well… so… maybe…” “Well that is good to know. Thank you for your opinions Danni, they are greatly appreciated.” He smiled and sat at the piano. I liked Mr Cooper, he was softly spoken, easy going, charming and seemed to understand my views, which I found very appealing. We spent the next couple of hours singing and laughing and any questions I asked of him were answered with humour and complete friendliness. When it was bedtime I went back to the room and waited for Miss Simms I needed to talk and was turning over in my mind just what to say. She arrived a short while later and sat on the bed next to me. “Why did you trick me into wearing these?” I pulled at the velvet shorts. “I’m sorry Danni but,” she was searching for her own words, “you are growing up. Soon you’ll be leaving and going to a new school and I won’t be there. I’d never heard her sound so intense… or nervous. “There is something about you Danni that, in all my years of teaching, I have never seen before; an acceptance… no… a love… of being childlike. Most boys your age are in a rush to grow up but, perhaps thanks to your mother and sister, you are happy to take your time.” I wished I hadn’t said anything now. “Danni, I know you like being babied.” I was shocked when she said the word. “I’ve known for a while and I think it is one of those things that make you ‘unique’… and I’ve tried to help you with that. In fact I’ve wanted to encourage it. I think a boy like you should never be made to give up something… erm… something that makes him happy because others might think he should. Be a boy for as long as you want because you are a long time grown up.” I didn’t know where to put myself. “I saw these shorts and immediately thought how much they would suit you… and they do.” She stroked the fabric but averted her eyes. “You’re getting a little older but, and I’m sure I’m not alone in thinking this, you look so damned cute in shorts. Even now, with your short hair… well… you look stunning in them. The entire cathedral was envious of me having such a lovely boy holding my hand.” She was trying to smile but I could see there was a great deal of emotion in her eyes. Some of the things she mentioned echoed with what Julie had said to me on previous occasions and I wondered if and why I was supposed to be so ‘special’. Miss was still speaking. “I thought you’d like them and, when you eventually do leave school and I was no longer around, you might like them enough to wear them and think of me. Selfish I know but I’m never going to forget you Danni and I was hoping you’ll never forget me.” All this was just too much and I hugged and cried and told her how I’d never forget her and how much she meant to me. She was sobbing a little as well and we held each other for quite some time before she said it was time for me to get ready for bed. I let her take care of me. She gently removed my shorts, folded them and put them in the bag mum had packed. She pulled out my boxers and asked if I preferred to sleep in them for a change but I shook my head. Five minutes later I was once again trussed up tightly in thick protection and settling down to sleep after a pretty full and exciting day. # To be continued… Danni – Part 20 – New Beginnings – Final Chapter For the next few days I was full of it. All I could talk about was St Saviours’ school and choir and how much I wanted to be part of all that. Mum pointed out that only days ago I’d said I wanted to go to school with Simon… was I sure about this? She called Miss Simms and had a meeting about it and although she was of course very positive, she sympathised with mum about me not being home all the time. “We’ll all miss him,” she’d said but thought it was the ideal place for my future education and ‘talents’. Mum hated the idea of privilege but conceded the fact (as James pointed out) that it was time to cut the apron strings and let me mix with other boys. The one thing that was missing in my life was being surrounded by other boys and the influence that would no doubt have on my development. I wasn’t too sure what he was getting at but mum seemed to eventually agree with some of the points he was making. Julie simply didn’t want me to go and I found it hard that she tried to stifle my enthusiasm for the place by being a bit stand-offish. She wasn’t nasty, she just had an air of ‘I don’t care’ about it all and that hurt. She didn’t want to discuss it, offer any advice or anything, she simply said (in a very off-hand way) “If you’re going, go… just don’t go on about it.” She rarely visited my room now and my dressing up and being babied by her fizzled out. I still wrapped myself in various items before I went to bed but the intimacy that Julie and I had was now gone and, left to my own devices, it simply wasn’t the same. To make up for this I had started to wear a nappy under the shorts that Miss Simms had bought for me. I really did like the feel and when I was wearing them I thought happily about how Miss had been so understanding, caring and… dare I say it… loving about me. Mum had never asked me about the shorts, I assume she thought it was something that Julie had dreamed up and Julie probably thought it was something mum had bought in a moment of good taste. The point was that Miss had become my substitute Julie. I spent as much time as possible in her company. We upped the number of private piano and singing lessons at her home and although it never happened, I hoped that she’d dress me in a thick nappy and plastic pants, whilst I stood at the piano doing my vocal exercises. Even with Miss Simms encouragement mum wasn’t happy about St Saviours. As I’ve said she had a problem with both privilege and church and didn’t want me spoiled by either or both. However, credit to her, she wanted me to enjoy my next level of education and if that meant boarding school, then so be it. Another interview followed with just mum and me travelling up to the school and for her to check out the facilities, which she found surprisingly excellent, and make some kind of financial arrangements with the Principal. Once everything was agreed, then, come the new term, I’d be a pupil and boarder at St Saviours. I was nervous and excited at the prospect of this dramatic change by next term. In my head I thought it would be just like school now, I would be teacher’s favourite and I’d get all the solos. Miss Simms had to set me right on a few of these assumptions. Firstly, I would be in the junior ranks of the choir and solos couldn’t be guaranteed. Every member of the choir would have a superb voice and I would be just one of a group of twenty-four. Most songs were choral pieces for choir and not solo numbers… she went on. Suddenly I wasn’t quite as keen as I had been and when she told me that no one there would encourage me to dress up or let me wear protection I became even more despondent. Julie had been correct (as usual) I wouldn’t be allowed to slip into a nappy when I wanted unless there was a medical reason. I was rapidly going cold on the entire idea but said nothing to mum. On the other hand James was nothing but positive about my selection, he thought it would bring a whole new dimension to my life and one that would better equip me as I got older. I confided my worries with Miss and asked her what I should do. She was very clear, as she had been all along; I needed to go to St Saviours as it was just the right ‘environment’ for someone with my ambition, talent and growing academic achievement. The state school was nice and there were benefits to staying local but, if I wanted to grow, learn new things, experience a different lifestyle… St Saviours was the ideal place for all that to be nurtured. In her opinion the staff and the choir offered much more than I’d get from ‘…any other educational institute’. Simon was disappointed that I wouldn’t be going to the same school as he was but remained pretty excited about becoming a boarder. His mum had all but finished making him dress as anything but a boy but still encouraged him to wear his nappy at night. However, as his new school term approached he had weaned himself off that particular desire… as he said. “I don’t want to give the other boys a reason to have a go at me.” It never occurred to me that other boys would ‘have a go’ as I’d always found most people supportive. However, Simon was in no doubt that wearing anything, anything even remotely different from what the others were wearing, would offer problems he could do without. He said he wasn’t even going to take his teddy bear; he would have to wait until the end of term and came home to receive his cuddles. He was definite, his nappy and pull-ups would be left at home and no amount of playful coaxing on my part would make him change his mind. He asked what I intended doing differently as he was sure they wouldn’t let me be the way I was at home… I was speechless. Even though it had been talked about I hadn’t given it much thought, surely, why would anyone object to me dressing up? I just hadn’t thought about it as deeply as Simon had and it began praying on my mind that perhaps I’d made a terrible mistake. However, James was being very positive and told me that when he was at boarding school it was all brilliant. All the new and exciting things I’d learn, the fantastic new friends I’d make, unbelievable events that I couldn’t even think about now would, he was sure, happen once I was at my new school. “It will be the best thing that ever happens to you.” He smiled and hugged me at the same time and I felt comforted by his words. “Don’t be afraid of the unknown… embrace it… enjoy it… live it.” Again James seemed to be talking in sound bites but as he was the only independent authority I had on anything, I was pleased that he was so positive. Over the next few weeks leading up to my move I think I dressed up less than I’d ever done in my life before… and I missed it. I could have done it myself but without the encouragement from Julie it just wasn’t the same. On a couple of occasions I begged Julie for us to have a ‘night together’, a not very clever code for me being babied and having a story told, but she just told me no and to get used to it. I got quite depressed. I realised that big changes were going to happen once I got to St Saviours but I didn’t understand why things had to change at home. No one had forced me to stop, no one had forbidden me to dress up but for some reason I just couldn’t bring myself to continue. I lay in bed wearing my now usual t-shirt and boxer shorts; gone were the pull-ups, the nappy, the plastic pants, the onesie, the… well… everything I ever liked and for some unexplainable reason I burst into tears. The only comfort that was still nearby was my teddy bear; the one who wore the fleecy outfit like the one Julie had made for me. I hugged him close as my body heaved with huge sobs. The comfort he offered was not enough as my entire body shook with emotion but I didn’t know why. It was Julie who heard me crying. Ever the big sister she came into the room and sat on the side of my bed and tried to soothe me with sweet hushes and kind words whilst stroking my head. For a while I was inconsolable but Julie stayed until I had calmed down. All this time, when I needed her, she hadn’t showed me much consideration at all and although I’d resented it, this I needed. I looked up into her eyes and hugged her tightly and she let me. My sobbing was retreating under her sisterly love and eventually, with my arms wrapped around her, I gradually quietened down. “You okay sweetie?” She patted my back and I felt comforted. “Huh huh,” at that moment I wasn’t thinking in words. “You’ll be okay,” she kept patting my back, “it may seem terrifying now but it will be fine.” I hugged her even more tightly, “How do you know?” She pulled me away from her and looked into my eyes, “Because little brother, you are the one boy in the entire world who isn’t scared of anything.” She wiped away the last remnants of tears on my cheeks. Julie then did something she had never done before; she pulled back my covers and got in beside me. Shuffling me over so she had plenty of the bed she slid down and put her arms around me once again and I felt safe. “It may seem scary but you, you Danni, you will have the best of times.” “But why does it all have to change?” I whined a little. “Because you are growing up and things do change… my little brother is becoming a man and I don’t want to stop him from doing just that.” “But you liked dressing me as a baby,” I suddenly had doubts, “didn’t you?” “I loved being your big sister. I love being your big sister… and yes I did like dressing you up… you were like a real live doll… and a really pretty doll.” Although I couldn’t see her I knew she was smiling at the thought and so was I. “There were times I know I got cranky with you. Those times where when I was growing up and didn’t understand my own mind and I took it out on you but I never wanted to hurt you,” She chuckled to herself, “Embarrass you… most certainly, but, well, you seemed to enjoy all that.” I turned to face her. “I did… and still do… but all that’s gone now and I miss it. I miss you.” We hugged each other tightly. As we lay there together it was the nicest feeling I’ve had for some time. Just being close to Julie like that had settled me down and I was enjoying the intimacy as I began, now completely relaxed, to drift off to sleep. Just before I floated off altogether I felt her rub my bottom then whisper in my ear. “I don’t think someone is dressed properly for beddy-byes are they?” I gave her a sleepy giggle. “We’d better change that hadn’t we?” I suddenly became more awake as she pulled back the covers, pulled down my boxers and went to my closet to get a nappy. She returned with lotion, powder, a couple of disposables and my silky ‘panties of excellence’. “Now,” she said with a gleam in her eye, “let’s get you ready for a damn good night’s sleep.” I had a huge smile on my face all the way through the proceedings. Each intimate touch had me giggling my response and Julie chuckled as she expertly got me ‘properly’ ready for beddy-byes. The lotion and powder was spread with more affection than I could ever remember and the disposables wrapped snuggly gave me a feeling of immense pleasure. She shimmied the silky panties up over the bulge and, as a final piece of theatre, produced one of my dummies and popped it into my mouth. “Now you’re ready.” She hugged me tightly and didn’t make any attempt to leave as we snuggled together. I fell asleep with my big sister holding me tightly and occasionally rubbing my tummy or stroking my silky bulge. I was so happy. In the morning Julie had gone but I woke up with a smile on my face and a very wet nappy… and I couldn’t have been happier. I didn’t remember how or why I’d wet myself but the fact that I had didn’t worry me in the least. I was so pleased that when I got up I didn’t even think about changing, I just pulled a pair of shorts over it all and went down for breakfast. Mum was sitting reading the paper and James was getting the milk from the fridge. “Morning sweetheart… did you sleep well?” She smiled as she heard me rustling up to the table and put her hand on mine. “You okay sweetie?” “Yes mum… I had the best night’s sleep I’ve had for ages.” I poured the milk that James offered onto my cereal. “Julie and me chatted last night…” I took a mouthful, “she told me everything will be okay at my new school.” I looked at both James and mum to see their reaction and both raised their eyebrows and nodded in agreement. “Well good for her… and good for you.” Mum pressed my hand again. “I see that wasn’t all she did for you.” I knew what she meant and timidly smiled as I took another crunchy spoonful. I spent the rest of the day wearing my night time protection. I had a feeling it would be the last such event for some time and I wanted it to last. I even managed to keep the soggy mass in place until the evening when it really was too far gone to be of any comfort. I would have liked to have had Julie come back and dress me up again but I suppose I realised that that was going to be the last time, well until I returned in the school holidays… perhaps? Everyone seemed to be of the opinion that once I started at St Saviours, I would have loads of other interests that would keep me occupied. I doubted it but was now, with Julie’s blessing, prepared to give it a go. I have to admit that I cried as my mother drove away from the school. I wasn’t the only one and there were a few of us new boys trying our best to look grown up in front of the older students. My new uniform and everything I’d need for boarding had been packed and delivered to a room I’d be sharing with five other boys but I was very nervous of what to expect. I was very tense and I began to wish that I’d taken the precaution of wearing a pair of pull-ups (at least) at this very stressful time. “Hello Danny.” It was one of the lads from the choir I’d met on my first visit with Miss Simms. “Oh, hi… er… do you know where we should go?” I hesitantly asked but pleased that there seemed to be one friendly face. “I think we’re roomies… follow me.” This was terrific news as the boy was David… and he reminded me a lot of Simon. Within minutes I was surrounded by four other boys, one of which, like me, was new to the school but that didn’t seem to matter as we were all soon chatting away about family, friends, pets and music. We had a great deal in common and when David produced his guitar and started strumming, the ice was well and truly broken as we had a sing-song right there and then. I was desperate for a pee but didn’t want to spoil the moment and again I wished I’d worn a disposable. However, I remembered what Simon had said about not wearing anything different to the others and, as I couldn’t tell if any of my other roommates wear wearing anything other than normal underwear, I thought it probably for the best that I’d left all that behind. Besides, it was only going to be a few weeks before we got a break and returned home. I was sure I could wait that long before I slipped into something soft and bulky that would give me great comfort. THE END
  9. Forgive Me Father… Part 1 Caleb stood in the corner of his bedroom rubbing his recently strapped fourteen year-old bottom. His father had laid into him with some power and, despite all attempts to do otherwise; he’d been reduced to a very sorry and tearful teenager. His bottom glowed bright red but unfortunately the rubbing wasn’t relieving the pain. His twin four year-old brothers, Joshua and Daniel, only recently woken, sat huddled together with their mother on their bed completely dumbstruck as their father had punished his eldest son for his misdemeanours. Punishment was rare in the Jefferson household but when it happened it was done in front of the family so no one would be in any doubt as to what transpired if rules were broken. Joshua and Daniel trembled in their bed dressed in the matching pale blue shorty pyjamas, underneath which they wore their night time diapers. They’d witnessed their older brother being stripped and bent over the bed, his pale quivering naked bottom in full view. Their father had listed the things Caleb was being punished for and, despite wishing not to have to do so; it was with God’s gracious guidance that he too had to instil such guidance in his son. Both boys wet their diapers in fear as they watched in horror at the severe punishment their loving brother was being subjected to. # Ever since he was a baby Caleb had worn a diaper under his pyjamas whenever he went to bed. It was a rule his parents had always insisted upon and had become second nature as he grew up. He’d never once questioned why he had to as this was just something he’d always done so wasn’t an issue. Of course the twins now wore them as well and they never questioned the reason, partly because Daniel still occasionally wet as he slept. Caleb wasn’t made to wear them at any other time just at night when he was sleeping. Both his God-fearing parents believed children were most at risk as they slept and a thick diaper was a way of preventing the Devil from doing his dirty work as their offspring slumbered. As well as final nightly prayers they also felt it was a simple and useful precaution for their children in case they had any kind of nocturnal accident. Also, being at peace with God , the rest of the family and themselves when they retired for the night was just good practice - just in case of any unfortunate events or sudden death – best to always be prepared to meet your maker. Even though Caleb himself hadn’t wet the bed for many, many years he was still required to wear them in the same way he wore the rest of his PJs, as he’d known nothing different it didn’t worry him. Recently though, the maturing but easily influenced teenager had found out that none of his friends wore such an item to bed, and although he had seen nothing wrong with it in the past, he was now being ridiculed by his school mates once it became known. He had no idea other parents did not have their children wear such protection to bed, so had innocently admitted to it when asked to write an essay for an English lesson about his home life. This tiny piece of information, in his well-written thesis, was seized upon by the entire class. They demanded to know if he was wearing diapers at that moment and the discussion didn’t calm down until he proved, by shuffling down his chinos, that in fact he wore normal white Y-fronts. From that moment on his normally friendly classmates were relentless in mocking him with baby talk, baby references and sarcastic crying. However, when he returned home full of embarrassment, he questioned his mother as to why he had to wear such an extra piece of thick material at night, when no others in his class did. His mother’s gentle and understanding explanation, though at first pacifying her son, didn’t completely alleviate it. His daily growing despair with the constant ridicule at school meant he was very unhappy. His father had been slightly less understanding, though he too had tried to explain his reasons, though the Devil and his corrupt ways didn’t seem to gain any credence with the young teen. In the end, and despite a few arguments, his father had simply said that whilst he was under his roof, his rules were to be obeyed. “As it says in the Bible” His father announced in all solemnity. “Deuteronomy 5:16 - Honour your father and your mother, as the LORD your God has commanded you, that your days may be prolonged and that it may go well with you on the land which the LORD your God gives you.” As far as his father was concerned that was the end of the matter so no further discussion would be allowed to take place. Caleb understood this quote from the Bible and had done his best to have respect to everyone not just his own family. He was a nice, polite boy and his religious parental upbringing had made him a tribute to their faith. Slow to anger, always helpful, volunteering, he was so unlike most of the other kids he went to school with. However, even though he’d been brought up to believe every word in the Bible was the word of God, he was now, because of his classmates, willing to question why he had to wear a diaper to bed. He couldn’t remember any reference to the Devil visiting anyone in the night. Even though he continued to wear the stipulated item to bed, the fact that he did, began to rankle. “Why?” This wasn’t helped by the fact he was now the talk of the school and the object of fun and derision. He still had mates but even they wondered why he simply didn’t refuse to wear such a childish piece of bedtime attire. As a class they all boasted that under no circumstances would they let their parents make them wear such an item for bed (or otherwise) and they called it a matter for his own honour and pride to reject such treatment. # The house the Jefferson’s lived in was a small two bedroom affair on the edge of town. They were too poor to have a place of their own so to begin with they had shared the house with Caleb’s mother’s mother, his grandma Mrs Eve Broadstone, his grandpappy being long dead. The tight little family unit occupied one bedroom between them, whilst grandma had the other. So, up until he was eight years old, he shared a room with his parents and only got his own once his grandmother passed away. His parents then inherited the place, which was just as well as Thomas Jefferson, Caleb’s father, was not a rich man. Oh, he’d say he was rich, though not in a financial way: He had a beautiful wife in Emily, a healthy son in Caleb, wonderful neighbours and had a close relationship with God, so how much richer could he be? He helped out at the church every week and did odd jobs around the place to stop it falling into ruin. He’d had to do the same with the house they inherited because over the years it had become very rundown. Thomas had been the town’s cobbler, though fashion and affordability of new footwear meant it was an industry on the decline. As it was a business that had never paid well he took to doing odd jobs to make ends meet, so this became his prime means to earn a living. He was an adequate carpenter and would attempt anything he was asked to undertake, but was self-taught and had no real grounding in joinery or plumbing. One day he could be shoring up a building, the next would find him mowing a lawn or sorting out some noisy radiator, or painting the side of a barn… he was very fluid in what he did. Each job was never too much trouble, no task too small and all done with a smile on his face and an even temper. He was well-liked for his attitude, his prices and availability… his time keeping was impeccable. # As an eight year-old Caleb had loved having his own room but after only two years of such ‘spacious luxury’, the Jefferson’s were visited by a surprise package with the arrival of twins. The small house was once again busy and full so Caleb had to get used to sharing all over again. His twin baby brothers soon took over his space with all the things babies need. His, and his family’s, Christian values meant that he couldn’t begrudge them anything so put up with the crying, the changing, the atmosphere that babies produce as they all had to get along in that small space. Now, after four years, he still shared the same room and although he understood why the twins should still wear diapers, the conversations he and his school colleagues were having meant the question “Why did he?” was becoming more and more unsettling. His parents tried to placate their son but he grew tired of their mystifying reasoning, none of it made sense to him and, if they were wrong about this, what else were they wrong about? His mind was in a great deal of turmoil because, as his friends questioned him, so he saw reason to question his parents. Slowly he gravitated more to the way his friends saw things than his parents. Although his mother and father put the twins to bed and made sure they were suitably wrapped up for the night, Caleb was never checked. It was assumed that after all this time he would not go against what his parents wished and he would wear the appropriate protection. However, for the last few nights, after he’d said his prayers and changed into his PJs, the diaper was left off. His parents didn’t know, or even suspected, that their son would disobey their rules. He never had done, so, despite his recent questions, there was no reason to think he might now. They had complete trust in their son. It felt strange and the pangs of guilt kept him awake but, because of what his friends had said, he saw no reason to wear such an item anymore. As his brothers slept soundly in their bed opposite, he tossed and turned at defying his parents. It didn’t sit well on his conscience but neither did the constant harassing by his school mates. His sleeping patterns were all over the place and on the third ‘no diaper’ night the anxiety caused him to do the one thing he never thought would happen - he wet the bed. Not a lot but enough for him to need to change his damp PJs and sheets. As luck would have it both Joshua and Daniel had also wet themselves that morning. And, because it was a Saturday and everyone’s bedding was changed for wash day, he quickly piled all their laundry together and slipped it into the washing machine before his mother was any the wiser. He breathed a sigh of relief when he got praise from her for getting an early start on the family laundry seeing as how it was going to be such a glorious drying day. The problem was he forgot to add his own diaper to the mix so when his mother pegged the wet items out she noticed that his larger fabric squares were missing. At the time she didn’t give it much thought, wondering if perhaps, in his haste to get things going, he’d simply forgotten his own dirty linen. However, a quick inspection of his stripped down bed revealed a slight damp patch on his mattress, which raised her suspicions. Later, whilst Caleb was out for the day playing with his friends, his mother mentioned her misgivings to her husband. Thomas wouldn’t believe his son would flaunt the rules but decided to check on him that night to allay any such worries, though he had to admit the damp bed did raise some questions. That night, when the twins and Caleb were asleep his father surreptitiously checked his son’s PJs and found the diaper in place. This was a relief to Thomas who hated to think his son would do anything contrary to his instructions. Mercifully, after the scare the night before, Caleb was taking no chances and had gladly returned to wearing the night time protection as he always had. The comfort it offered meant that he drifted off very quickly and was able to catch up with all the lost sleep he’d endured whilst not wearing it. He was totally unaware of his father checking on him and was oblivious to the worry he had briefly caused his parents. # Once back at school his friends were still badgering him to know if he’d rebelled at his ‘babyish treatment’, as they called it. Caleb lied and said he no longer wore the item to bed and that his parents were now cool with his decision. The ribbing from his mates began to die down, much to the fourteen year-old’s relief. However, he now found he had another problem. He’d lied and in so doing knew that the Lord would not react well to such effrontery to his parents rules. Not only that… he’d lied to his friends but the continuous taunts of being a ‘wickle baby’ had got to him and despite what the Bible said, he found it hard to turn the other cheek. In fact, the pressure from his peers was getting more intensified and he was being dragged into areas where he was most uncomfortable. The other problem he had was he desperately wanted to be accepted. This ‘baby thing’ had been a crushing blow to his self-esteem and he knew that it would hang over him if he couldn’t prove he was just as much of a teenager as the rest of the gang. Despite the way he’d been brought up; the loving, forgiving, empathetic rules his parents had always displayed, he found his friend’s ideas and thoughts were beginning to have more influence. He was agreeing with actions he would once have run a mile from and even found himself in trouble for being a part of the group who’d played a nasty prank on one of the teachers. The rest of the group just laughed it off but he struggled. However, once he’d misbehaved and the acceptance from his peers had been so inclusive, he hung around with them and found he was being involved in more and more teenage revolt as they challenged everything around them. Caleb was caught up in this revolution. At first he didn’t like it but his fourteen year-old mind, and all his mates, were telling him he needed to be less under his parent’s authority. Most nights at home he’d stopped wearing his diaper to bed. He’d been lucky that his parents had only checked him that once. However, because he became a little bit surly, and more aggravated by sharing his room with his little brothers, his father told him in no uncertain terms that such attitude to the rest of the family would not be tolerated. He went to school thoroughly chastised and resentful and when a few of his pals suggested they should just bunk off for the day, despite the fact he knew it was wrong, he agreed to go with them. They spent the afternoon at one of the boy’s homes, drinking the father’s beer and smoking, neither of which Caleb had ever done before. The other boys laughed as he struggled with both alcohol and tobacco but he wanted desperately to impress. The boy raided his father’s booze cabinet and slipped a large amount of vodka into the beer Caleb was drinking. They urged him to down it in one to prove he wasn’t a wuss and a second bottle of beer was doctored in the same way. To the amusement of his pals, a slurry and dizzy Caleb found it hard to focus as a game of ‘dare’ developed. With inhibitions down and eager to prove himself he took up the challenges and found himself stealing clothing off a neighbour’s washing line. He arrived back to his pals giggling as he produced a couple of pairs of girl’s panties, a summer dress, fabric diapers and a variety of colourful kiddie and baby clothes, including a couple of pairs of plastic pants. He had no idea what he’d collected he’d just grabbed the first few things available. Unfortunately, he’d been spotted. # A knock on the front door and the general mayhem of a group of startled, drunken, frightened boys, hightailed it out an open back window heading in opposite directions. When he got home he rushed past his mother with barely any acknowledgment and made his way to his bedroom. A slight stumble gave her a chance to notice the smoky smell on his clothes, which also gave her the opportunity to inspect him more closely. Unfortunately for him she detected his insobriety and that he looked nervous and skittish. She didn’t say anything just let him continue to his bed. He crashed out, grateful for being home and able to rest his spinning head. He fell asleep. Whilst he dozed his father returned home, more or less at the same time the neighbour who’d had clothes stolen off their washing line was explaining the afternoon’s events. She’d also brought the bunch of creased and now dirty washing with her as evidence. Her anger at her next door neighbour’s boy was evident but she couldn’t understand why a respectable boy like Caleb would do such a thing. When Thomas had heard the story he decided to let the boy sleep it off but in the morning he’d be in a great deal of trouble and have a painful lesson to learn. Although it was late afternoon when Caleb had arrived home he’d completely crashed out and only woke up for a few moments late in the night. Everything was dark and the house quiet as he stumbled to the bathroom. He was still quite unsteady on his feet and felt incredibly light-headed; the unaccustomed alcohol certainly had an effect. His bladder was almost bursting by the time he’d manoeuvred himself in front of the toilet and it was with pure relief he let things flow. Unfortunately, his aim was ineffective as he missed the bowl and not only pissed all over the floor but down the front of his school chinos. He was unaware of the mess he’d made as he stumbled back to his bed, attempting not to wake up his sleeping brothers, thus returning to his warm and welcoming bed. He eventually woke up when bright morning light rushed in through the windows as the drapes were pulled back. Groggily Caleb squinted into the day only to see his father looking down at him. Another cursory glance saw his mother hugging his twin brothers as they sat up in bed looking somewhat shocked back at him. “Caleb.” His father’s voice was commanding but he wasn’t shouting. “Caleb.” “Whhhaaaat?” Caleb groaned. With his head still throbbing he wasn’t at his best this morning and just wanted to sleep a little longer. “Time to get up Caleb.” His father was firm but didn’t sound angry. “Just a few more minutes please papa.” There was a tired whine to his request. “Up. NOW.” His father’s voice was now very forceful and Caleb knew he needed to do as he was told. Slowly and with some difficulty he eventually sat up. His eyes still not quite focused but his father told him to stand. Reluctantly Caleb got to his feet and shrugged. His father launched straight into his questions. “Where were you yesterday?” “At school papa.” Caleb mumbled his lying reply. “All day?” His father persisted. “Hu-huh.” He confirmed. “So, explain this.” His father pointed to the dark wet stain down the front of his trousers. “Er, mmmm, erm… must have had an accident.” “Your bed is wet through… did you have an accident there as well?” None of this was making much sense to the still woozy Caleb who wasn’t thinking straight at all. Indeed, he felt pretty sick in the pit of his stomach and realised desperately needed to pee again. “Excuse me papa but I think I need the …” “Not yet my boy. You have some explaining to do.” He held up the bunch of stolen clothes and asked him to explain what they were. Caleb just shrugged and slurred he had never seen them before. His mind still wasn’t working right but, from what his friends had said in the past: “Deny everything it’s up to others to prove it.” At that moment, and with that thought in his head, he smiled at his father and denied everything. He didn’t know that whilst he slept off his drunken binge, a call around the neighbours and to school that evening meant his father had been able to quickly piece together the day’s events. The stolen washing was still being held and shaken in front of Caleb’s face. He thought he was safe as he suspected no one knew him where he’d been drinking with his pals, except, everyone knew the Jefferson kids and especially Caleb. He was regarded as a polite, honest, industrious type of lad that other parents wished their child could be like. His regular attendance at church and of course his father’s commitment to church affairs and the like, meant they were a very well-liked and respected family in the community. Caleb found under his father’s questioning his resolve begin to falter. He found it difficult to keep up a lie and suspected he knew more than he was saying. The urge to pee was getting stronger but his queasy stomach was not only a feeling of being sick, it churned with guilt. Under his father’s interrogation he found himself lying and then having to admit to things that he’d done. In the end Thomas had extracted a complete confession as to what had really taken place and although Caleb had tried to lay the blame at being treated as a child, none of that argument worked. Eventually his father told him to take off his urine stained trousers. With his mother and brother’s looking on, he slowly removed them. He was left standing in his damp and yellowing briefs when his father told him to remove them also. Reluctantly, he did as requested and stood hiding his boyhood behind cupped hands. He knew he was in for some kind of punishment but didn’t know exactly how that was going to take place. “Bend over and smell your bed” His father’s words were strange and Caleb was slow to do as commanded. “Smell your sinful bed. This isn’t the first time you’ve wet it is it?” Caleb realised they must know about the time he hadn’t worn his diaper. “No papa, I wasn’t wearing a diaper.” “The rule of this house is, until children leave home… for their protection, safety and to keep them from many of the corruptions of this world… a diaper is worn for sleep. Correct?” “Er,” He was desperate to find an excuse but nothing was coming and his bladder was hurting. He feared peeing himself but also knew he was in no position to ask for permission to visit the toilet. In the end, to speed things up he agreed that was the rule. “Yes papa.” “Now, smell the mattress… the stench of not obeying rules” He saw he had little option. With his mother and the twins looking on he bent over and inhaled the tainted fabric and the heady smell of his wet crimes. “Your young brothers don’t wet the bed and nor should you. Take a deep breath…” Caleb did as he was told and a wave of nausea swept through his body. “Your diaper would have prevented any such accidents, but you think you’re such a big boy and no longer need either physical or religious protection.” “No papa… sorry papa.” He tried to get up but his father pushed him back into position. The loud crack that followed was unexpected by both Caleb and the twins. His father had swung a leather strap he’d concealed behind his back and made heavy contact with his son’s pale bottom. The yelp could be heard several blocks away to anyone who had ears. Caleb, shocked and shaking tried to rise. “Stay where you are.” The order wasn’t one he could ignore and a tremble of just what was in store shook his body. “Forgive me father I…” Crack Caleb’s words were cut off by the searing pain that ricocheted throughout his body. He tried to stand again but his father was determined he should stay just where he was. Embarrassed or not by his humiliating position his father delivered more hefty wallops to his son’s rapidly reddening posterior. With every thundering smack Caleb yelled for forgiveness, whilst his father delivered a litany of religious quotes. His crimes; his smoking, his underage drinking, his truancy, his choice of friends, his stealing, his lack of respect for family and himself – everything his schoolmates had assured him were positives in his escape from babyhood, was coming back to painfully haunt him. His father knew he wasn’t by choice a naughty boy but was determined that as the Lord offered guidance to his children, so he had to do the same with his. The strap landed many times and a wailing Caleb was left in no doubt he had done wrong. His brothers looked scared as they saw their older brother punished in such a fashion but this was Thomas’s idea, to make an example – This is what happens when you don’t follow the rules. Although it could be contended that at only four years old they wouldn’t necessarily know right from wrong, their parents hoped that such a visual demonstration would have a lifetime effect and keep them on the straight and narrow. It did have an effect and both Joshua and Daniel wet their diapers as they witnessed the horror of their brother’s brutal treatment. They weren’t the only ones, Caleb also could not hold onto his full bladder and a stream of piss hit the bed and floor as the eleventh stinging strike caused him to cry out louder for forgiveness. # Once the punishment was over Thomas helped his son to his feet and hugged him. “I don’t like to discipline you… you are a good boy but, and this is why you have been chastised so severely… you are getting influences from the wrong people and you are acting against the family. This I cannot allow.” He held his son who was sobbing and rubbing his very sore and inflamed bottom. “Your friends will no doubt be chastised by their parents but you’re my responsibility and I’m not going to let you ruin your life for the benefit of some thoughtless… and Godless young hoodlums.” He patted his son’s red bottom as if to make the point. “For the foreseeable future you are banned from meeting with them and at school your contact must be kept to the absolute minimum. Do you understand?” Caleb couldn’t get any words out he was still shaking in terror at what had just taken place. Never had his father reacted in such a way and he was completely scared of what this man, this man he called papa, might do next. “There are several things you need to take on board.” He held up the stolen washing. “You will wash, iron and return these items to the lady you stole them from.” He waited until he could see his son take notice of what he had said. “As you appear to like baby clothes…” Thomas held up the item in an undisguised motion that meant ‘what a strange choice’ “A diaper will be a permanent part of your wardrobe … day and night. If for any reason you are seen without it, and there will be many checks, you will receive double what you have just experienced. Is that clear?” Caleb was still shaking but he dare not fail to respond so nodded. “Good. Now, after school, and in any spare time you have, you will read the Bible and reflect on what has happened. I understand you are growing up but there are better influences around than your so-called friends.” He paused to make sure his shaking son understood what he was saying. “You will be tested once a week on what you have learned.” He spoke directly into his son’s tearful face. “When I think you are capable of understanding the word of God is the only truth and the only guidance you need, then the diaper punishment will be re-thought.” He hugged his son again. “Despite not honouring your father and mother… the Lord forgives you and we forgive you. We love you very much Caleb, we want what’s best for you… you should want it for yourself as well.” The tears that had lessened began to pour once again and Caleb wept inconsolably as his father led him to a corner of the room. “Now, whilst your mother gets Joshua and Daniel ready for the day you need to think about what you have done and how you are going to make it up to those you have disappointed. When your mother has finished with the twins she will attend to you, no argument, no fuss, you will do what you are told.” # As Mrs Jefferson removed the twins soaked diapers and cleaned them up she wondered if this was what she was going to be doing for her eldest every morning. Caleb tried to rub the pain from his tanned and purple backside but didn’t dare turn round and look at his mother. He was just too ashamed. Once the twins had been calmed, dressed and sent out to play she began to sort out the rest. She stripped Caleb’s bed and rummaged around in a cupboard until she found what she was looking for. Emily Jefferson sighed, even the twins didn’t need this sort of protection on their beds but her husband had insisted. She pulled a thick plastic sheet over his mattress and then told him to come over. She gave him a cloth so he could mop up the puddle of pee he’d made that hadn’t already been soaked up by his bedding. He noticed the pile of diapers and stuff normally reserved for the twins was laid out on his bed and knew what was in store for him as he tentatively wiped away at the wet patch he’d made. Once that was all done he winced again as he was told to lie out. With a deep sigh of resignation he lay on the cool plastic sheet, his bottom reacting to the slinky, cool surface as he tried to get comfortable. Eventually his mother started to clean him up. Caleb clenched his teeth as she rubbed soothing ointment onto his inflamed buttocks, he knew she wasn’t trying to hurt him but it stung nonetheless. After a few embarrassing moments she spoke. “I don’t know what you were thinking…” She held up her hand as if to say ‘and I don’t want to know’. “But by stealing those baby’s clothes your father has decreed it must be some kind of cry for help.” She waited to see if there was any kind of reaction but there wasn’t he just lay with eyes tightly clenched trying to will away the pain in his buttocks. “Either that or you just want to be babied.” His mother wasn’t being cruel; she really didn’t know what had happened to her loving and polite son because he’d changed so abruptly. Through his pain and trembling body that word had come back to haunt him - ‘babied’. It was the word his friends had used to describe his diaper wearing. It was the term they used constantly to undermine and shut him out of things. It was the word that had driven him to prove himself he was not a baby; he could be as adventurous and mischievous as anyone else. Tears began streaming down his face once again as he realised things were not going to get better. “Whatever the reason, it’s diapers permanently for you now.” His brothers didn’t wear diapers during the day only when they went to bed. So, now he would be treated like the baby of the family and all that entailed. With purpose she slipped a cloth diaper under his swollen bottom and let the baby powder drift down to mingle with the anti-diaper rash cream before pulling the thick material up between his legs and pinning it into place. His mind was trying to tune out what was happening but he knew there was no escaping this extra punishment. In some ways he believed what his father had said – the Lord doesn’t take kindly to his, and therefore by inference, his father’s rules being ignored. “Right, that’s that done.” She said with some pride. Caleb dare not look down to witness his return to being treated as a toddler. He could feel the thickness between his legs and the tightness of the fabric bunching around his groin. Unfortunately for him keeping his eyes closed wasn’t an option as his mother confirmed by indicating the pile of stolen items. “You have work to do,” she said with no hint of anger just a simple fact. Hesitantly, he spun off his bed, the slippery plastic sheet making his transition a great deal easier. The throbbing of his bottom was still quite intense but the padding and creams were going some way to alleviate the pain. He searched around for some trousers to slip over the bulky item making him walk strangely but his mother informed him his father’s instructions were – diaper only. “But mama…” His protest died on his lips. He fought back another surge of emotion. Tears appeared but he didn’t want them to fall realising that they would do no good as his father had spoken. Hesitatingly, he took the pile of clothes from his mother and went to the kitchen where the washing machine was and loaded it up. Thomas was getting his tools ready for another day out fixing and repairing things. “Sorry papa.” Caleb meekly said as he waddled slowly past his father. “That’s all right son. Has your mother made clear my instructions?” “Yes papa, I have to wash, iron and return these items and apologise to Mrs Rendle.” The words caught in his throat as he dreaded having to see his neighbour dressed as he was. “Papa, might I wear some , er, jeans or er, something when I see her?” His father thought for a moment. “Tell me Caleb, why did you steal those items?” The boy shook his head. He knew he couldn’t use being drunk as an excuse, or that he was goaded by his fellow truants, but he had no idea why he had in fact taken those particular pieces of clothing. “Why those particular items?” His father insisted. Caleb assumed that there was no real reason behind the choice; they were just the first things he came to. He shrugged unable to answer in any concise way. “Mrs Rendle saw you. She says that you apparently ran past other items before you stopped at these and paused before deciding to take them.” Thomas paused to see if his words sunk in. “The lady isn’t the fittest person on the block so wasn’t able to stop you from what you were doing but she is certain that you aimed for those specific things hanging on her line.” A cool shiver ran down Caleb’s spine. “She suggested that seeing as you wanted them so much, you should be given some of your own… it didn’t seem a bad idea.” “Ohhh” He turned on the washing machine and looked down at his feet. He comprehended the angry lady’s logic and why his diapers were now his only clothes. Crestfallen he walked back to his father who was just about to leave. “I’m really very sorry papa.” Thomas put his hand on his remorseful son’s shoulder and spoke softly. “I know you are Caleb… and I’m sure you’ll get over this but… you have to understand that all actions have consequences. If you knew what those consequences were going to be… would you still have done them?” “No papa.” “Read the Bible son all your answers are there. As it says in Galatians - Do not be deceived: God is not mocked, for whatever one sows, that will he also reap. For the one who sows to his own flesh will from the flesh reap corruption, but the one who sows to the Spirit will from the Spirit reap eternal life. “Yes papa.” # His father left for his day’s work and Caleb sat at the table thinking about his father’s words. The thickness of his diaper offering some relief to his aching buttocks but he knew it would be another few days before the inflammation would settle down. In the meantime he’d have to get used to walking with a thick, well-padded piece of material between his legs. He knew that everyone would be able to tell and dreaded returning to school but also knew that his father was doing this for a reason and not just to embarrass him. His mother gathered up the twins and went shopping leaving Caleb on his own to reflect on what had happened over the past few hours. In the interim, told to study the Bible, and not wishing to be seen anywhere dressed as he was, he settled down to do just that. His bottom still throbbed but there was no doubt about it, the padding certainly helped as he sat on his crinkly bed and read the sacred words. A tract from the Bible entered his head. Proverbs 22:6 Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old he will not depart from it. # To be continued…. Part 2 Proverbs 29:15 The rod and reproof give wisdom, but a child who gets his own way brings shame to his mother. Justifying his actions as reparation Thomas then steered his son to his other duty. Caleb arrived at the Rendle property at 6.30pm and knocked on the door. Held all neatly pressed and folded were the stolen items; on top of which, and to his total embarrassment, were a pair of young girl’s nylon panties and the baby’s plastic pants. Caleb stood there waiting for an answer. He felt anxious and self-conscious because all he was wearing was a thick diaper but knew he had to go through with this if he was to prove to his father that he understood the error of his ways. His flaming bottom also making sure he knew what to expect if he transgressed again. Mrs Rendle answered the door clutching her nine month old daughter to her shoulder. The overweight lady not looking quite as fierce as he imagined she would. “Come in young…” she looked him up and down, “man?” He entered the house and was confronted by Mr Rendle and his two other daughters, Pixie aged five and Jenny aged nine. Caleb presented the clothing to anyone who would take it from his arms as he visibly shook with nerves. “Mr, er and Mrs Rendle,” Caleb was desperate to get this over with as quickly as possible. “Please forgive me for my stupid and immature actions… and I er, umm, apologise for the inconvenience I have caused.” He’d been rehearsing his little speech all day but it still sounded muffled as anxiety got the better of him. On top of that, his sore and purple bottom suddenly became more uncomfortable trapped in his diaper. Whereas the thickness had offered some support and relief, here, and with this family, it felt distinctly awkward. The Rendle’s looked at him with contempt in their eyes. He shuffled uncomfortably. They could have just laughed at the teenager in a diaper holding out panties, and baby clothes as if for inspection but Mrs Rendle in particular was fed up with the way teenagers in the area acted with such disrespect. She’d wished that this boy’s drinking pals had been punished the way he had and were also in her living room to apologise. Unfortunately, they weren’t and suspected they would have either gotten off scot-free or merely been grounded for the day. Mrs Adaline Rendle had a very low opinion of today’s youth (and most of their parents) but welcomed Thomas Jefferson’s way of dealing with his wayward son. Unaware that it was her brief angry conversation and suggestion that had made them think of such a punishment. A biblical reference to ‘he who lives by the sword dies by the sword’ briefly flittered into her mind. Although they weren’t a religious family so couldn’t be certain the quote had much to do with the way Caleb’s father had made him wear something similar to what he’d stolen, it did seem more than a little apt. “I see your father has realised you are still just a baby.” Mrs Rendle said scornfully. Caleb hadn’t expected anything but a swift apology and hopefully an equally hasty exit. Now being the centre of attention and being quizzed he was totally unprepared for a family intent on humiliation. Under such scrutiny the diaper felt even more cumbersome. His raw bottom had yet to stop hurting and he could still feel each sting of his father’s strap across his buttocks. He quaked in his trainers. He had to get this right because if he didn’t, he feared a repeat visit from that painful instrument. “Mmm, yes ma-am.” Because of the circumstances he was forced to quietly agree. Still no one had relieved him of the bundle of clothes so there was very little he could do except stand and wait. The baby held in Mrs Rendle’s arms began to get a little irritable and start to cry. Caleb wanted out as soon as possible and reiterated his apology and asked for someone to take the clothes he was holding. Mrs Rendle found a pacifier for her baby daughter, which calmed her down. “Please can someone take these clothes? I’ve washed…” Caleb was getting desperate and under such scrutiny found he desperately needed a pee. He flushed red with embarrassment at the prospect of wetting himself in front of these people who already despised him but saw no imminent escape. No one appeared in a hurry to do anything. He was worried. # Eventually Jenny stepped forward and plucked her panties from the top of the pile. The look of disgust that passed between her and the teenage culprit was intense and made Caleb swallow uneasily. “Why did you want my panties?” She asked and for which the perpetrator had no answer. “Er, erm, er, I’m sorry it was just a silly dare… I didn’t…” But he could see his words were not having any effect, although with his nervousness the need to pee was getting much stronger and wriggled uneasily in his diaper. The baby’s plastic pants were now on view and Mrs Rendle demanded to know why he was so desperate for a pair of her baby daughter’s vinyl pants. “Something more appropriate to your age I suspect.” The sound of derision in her voice left him trembling. Again he had no answer and stammered his apologies once more. This was going a lot worse than he could possibly imagine. Mrs Rendle saw the gibbering and frightened teen begin to hyperventilate and offered her baby daughter’s pacifier to soothe his anxiety. Caleb swallowed hard but shook his head; he hadn’t understood the ridicule in the offer. Although at that moment anything to take his mind off this hostile inspection would have been gratefully received. Mr Rendle had stayed silent throughout these exchanges but now stepped forward and stood directly in front of the offender. He was a big man himself and towered over the teen. # He grabbed the panties off his daughter and flung them back on the pile Caleb was still holding. “You have violated my family. It may have been a, a, a, prank,” he stuttered with disgust, “but you have sullied those clothes forever by your thoughtless actions. I wouldn’t feel I’d done my duty if I let my children wear something you’d… tainted by your actions” The last words were delivered with such loathing Caleb took a step back from his accuser. What had been just a silly dare to him and his friends had become a major incident as far as this family were concerned. He wasn’t to know the constant acts of petty vandalism and unsocial activities by their thoughtless neighbours had been brought to a head by this particular stupid act. As a family they were seething with righteous indignation. For a moment Caleb thought he was in danger of being hit by this irate man and that urge to pee no longer became an urge. Unfortunately, once he’d started he found it difficult to stop. He felt the full weight of his misdemeanours hang heavy on his shoulders and then in his diaper as the warmth spread around his groin. The front of his diaper began to turn yellow and he wished the ground would swallow him whole. Tears sprung into his eyes as he stared at the scary man looming with utter contempt but couldn’t turn away. He was getting no sympathy but still hardly dare move, he was terrified of what was happening and what still might. Mrs Rendle saw what was transpiring and although she seemed satisfied with the boy’s discomfiture (they’d been subjected to a lot worse over the years), thought the confrontation had reached its obvious conclusion. Besides, his wetting just went to prove what she always thought of today’s young people – they were nothing but thoughtless, helpless babies in need of constant supervision but when brought to book for their misdeeds would just crumble. She didn’t bring the wet diaper to anyone’s attention but merely told him to go, and to take all the defiled clothing with him. “You wanted them, they’re yours now… and I hope your parents make sure you think about what you’ve done every day.” Even without Mrs Rendle pointing out his wet diaper it was inconceivable that the rest of the family didn’t notice - he’d let loose a flood. # Caleb was shocked, soaked and sobbing as the door slammed shut behind him. The long walk home wearing a soggy and sagging diaper, whilst carrying a bunch of baby clothes, was quite ironic, although the irony failed to register. He ran, clutching the items to his groin, desperate to hide the yellowing fabric and get home as soon as possible. The saturated diaper hindered his progress as it began to slip and bunch up between his thighs and knees, so constantly found himself having to tug it up to prevent from revealing his total naked shame. Oblivious to the catcalls, comments and laughter a teenage boy in a diaper caused in the neighbourhood, a mile and a half later he was grateful to be back home. His mother was there as he ran through the doorway heading for the bedroom. “Stop.” Caleb didn’t want to, he wanted to get out of his soaked and itchy diaper as soon as possible but his mother’s command couldn’t be ignored. Emily saw the pile of clothing gripped tightly to his groin. “Weren’t the Rendle’s in?” “Yes mama, but, er, but, they, er, they said I’d sullied these items and I should keep them… erm… as a reminder.” “I see. So they think these should be a part of your punishment from now on…? “I s’pose so, but mama, I apologised, I asked to be forgiven, I, I, I…” His explanation just wasn’t working… also… his diaper had begun to slip further down his legs. Emily noticed the sodden item and asked for an explanation as to why he’d wet himself. He teared up. “I was afraid Mr Rendle was going to hit me.” “Did he threaten you?” She was anxious to know the details as threatening her son would not have gone down well with her. “No, no his daughters and Mrs Rendle were there he just said that I, I, I disgusted him.” “But did he threaten you?” “No mama (sob) I was just scared and ashamed and … ohh mama, what am I going to do?” She hugged her son. “Well, for a start… let’s get you out of this.” She gently pulled at the sagging diaper and guided Caleb, still clutching the baby clothes, through to his bedroom. The plastic sheet still covered the mattress and his new bedding was waiting all folded to be made up. He wasn’t sure what to do with the bundle he carried so his mother relieved him and placed them on top of a chest of drawers. She indicated he should lie out once again but Caleb suggested that perhaps he should do it. “Maybe in future you will,” she said to relieve his fears, “but for the moment I need to make sure your bruised bottom is tended to and that everything is okay. However, before I do all that we need to get you out of this soaked diaper.” She went to the drawers and took out a couple of the fabric diapers he’d normally wear for sleeping in. She also produced a small packet which Caleb hadn’t seen before. As she set the various items needed on the bed Caleb noticed the package said ‘Vinyl Pants for the incontinent young adult’. “Mama, surely you’re not going to put me in… them.” She shrugged. He pleaded. “But mama, Daniel needs them because otherwise he’d wet the bed, I don’t. Oh… please mama, don’t make me wear them.” # The fourteen year-old was in turmoil. He knew that if he kicked up too much of a fuss his father might just revisit him with the strap and, despite his reluctance, there was really very little he could do. His mother asked a simple question. “Have you just come home in a wet diaper?” There in the soiled diaper his mother was unpinning any argument was lost. “Please mama, don’t.” His humiliation continued as his mother cleaned him up, rubbed antiseptic cream into his red bottom and smeared another lotion around his genitals before fitting him back into a bright white clean diaper. She then inched further plastic protection up his legs and made him stand as she checked that everything was inside the vinyl barrier. Caleb wanted to cry at this latest indignity. “You might as well get used to it young man because this is what you’ll be wearing about the house.” The shame Caleb felt as he crinkled with the slightest movement was intense. “But mama, Joshua and Daniel don’t have to wear there’s around the house…” “No they don’t… and they haven’t stolen things off a washing line, been drunk, wet the bed or caused our neighbours to wonder what type of son we are bringing up to be so disrespectful to people and property....” Obviously his mother had been holding back her own personal judgement on his behaviour for some time. Her outburst left him cowed and shamefaced. “…and haven’t just wet themselves in public.” He had no defence, it was all true. “Just so you’re in no doubt, you will not only be wearing this for bed.” She smoothed down the shiny though noisy plastic over his tightly pinned diaper. “As we no longer trust you we need to see at all times you’re wearing what we say… so… no pyjamas. Either your father or I will check you when you’re put to bed and when you wake up. I think you know what to expect if any part of this rule is not completely adhered to.” He remembered one of his father’s recent Bible quotes: Deuteronomy 21:18-21 "If any man has a stubborn and rebellious son who will not obey his father or his mother, and when they chastise him, he will not even listen to them, then his father and mother shall seize him, and bring him out to the elders of his city at the gateway of his hometown. "They shall say to the elders of his city, 'This son of ours is stubborn and rebellious, he will not obey us, he is a glutton and a drunkard.' “Then all the men of his city shall stone him to death; so you shall remove the evil from your midst...” Caleb shook at the enormity of what he could expect. The Bible was unflinching when it came to obeying your parents. Meanwhile, Emily continued with her clarification of the new set of rules. “You will also be going to bed at the same time as your brothers.” He peered up ready to try and argue his position but the expression of determination on his mama’s face made any such attempt a foregone conclusion. He was dressed as a toddler so couldn’t complain seeing as he was being treated as one. Any hope that his father might relent was equally a lost cause. “Yes mama.” # He knew arguing had got him into this position so there was absolutely nothing to be gained by going down that track again. He simply had to observe these new rules if more painful punishment was to be avoided. Thankfully, the lotion his mama had rubbed into his bottom had relieved some of the pain, whilst the other cream around his genitals had left a warming glow just like when he’d wet himself at the Rendle’s. If the diaper wasn’t enough, the crinkly, rustling sound he made as he walked was a permanent reminder of his situation. He had to put up with the childish giggling from the twins as they noticed and patted his bottom in curiosity. Just the slightest touch was a jolt to just how fiercely he’d been strapped, but in truth, he couldn’t blame them for being inquisitive. When bedtime came and the boys were made ready for ‘ni-nights’, Caleb was quite envious that they got to wear their shorty ‘jim-jams’ over bulky diapers. Meanwhile, he knelt at the side of his bed and said his prayers aloud so that his parents could hear. The silky mass of his vinyl pants glistened in the subdued lighting. As his mother affirmed, other than a t-shirt he wasn’t allowed anything else though wondered if he’d ever get to sleep at such an early hour. Especially as the bottom sheet on his bed was also now plastic and made more noise than his vinyl pants. He lay exhausted, hot and uncomfortable as he ruminated on the day. The light was turned out and for a short while all was quiet. Then, after a brief whispered childish discussion, both Joshua and Daniel crawled from their bed and into Caleb’s. They didn’t appear to worry too much about the noise the bed made as they found space to be near him. Not another word was said, they knew talking after lights out was forbidden. It had been their first opportunity to make sure Caleb was okay, as they embraced to prove they still loved him. Notwithstanding his still throbbing bottom, they spent the night snuggled up and he enjoyed their little warm padded bodies curled against his own. He wanted to show his brothers (even with silent thanks) he loved them right back. Later both parents looked in on their sleeping brood and were heartened by the affectionate way their boys bonded. They were proud that even at such a young age the twins wanted to show their love for their brother. Despite what had so recently taken place, the Jefferson household believed firmly in the power of family love. Corinthians 13:13 So now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love. The soft rustling of diapers and plastic sheets accompanied every little movement but didn’t seem to interfere with the trio’s untroubled sleep. # In the morning their father was the one to wake them up for church. Joshua and Daniel stretched and were lifted from Caleb’s bed and mama started to get them ready. Caleb was surprisingly the last to wake up. He felt flushed and uncomfortable as his diaper had ridden up and the plastic pants had maintained all his body heat. His diaper was damp but he didn’t think he’d peed. Thomas checked his son and nodded for him to get up and have a shower before church. As Caleb pulled down his plastic pants he realised just how hot he was as the cool morning air rushed in. The fabric did feel quite wet but was certain he hadn’t had an accident in the night. However, a bigger surprise waited for him when he lowered his heavy diaper. There, nestled among the soft fabric were a host of tiny black hairs. At first he wasn’t sure what they could be until he felt his smooth penis and balls and grasped that all his pubic hair was now in the folds of the damp material. Horrified he looked down at the once proud area that proved he was growing up. At school, in the shower after gym or sports, most of the boys showed off that they had pubes – it was a symbol, a symbol he no longer had. In the hierarchy of classmates, those without pubes were teased and it was often they who searched the locker room for their missing underwear – boys always finding ways of further humiliating other boys. He was more sad than angry. It was just the inevitability of the process – he was going to be reduced to the same status as his brothers. He wished it wasn’t so but, after the way he’d been punished, he saw no way of defying what was happening. Perhaps, returning him to childhood was part of his parents plan. He’d heard his father quote another verse from the Bible to his mother. Matthew 18:2-6 And calling to him a child, he put him in the midst of them and said, “Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. “Whoever receives one such child in my name receives me, but whoever causes one of these little ones who believe in me to sin, it would be better for him to have a great millstone fastened around his neck and to be drowned in the depth of the sea. However, the shower proved to be a strange affair. Soaping up his hairless, smooth genitals had a strange, non-biblical effect. There was a certain soft, silky sensation that he’d never recognised before… and he liked it. The other strange thing was, as he soaped his badly bruised bottom, the heat and pain from that had diminished significantly though he didn’t know why. Once he was out of the shower his bed was again laden with diapers and related paraphernalia with his mama waiting. She patted the side of the bed and indicated he lay out. She checked that all his pubic hair had been removed and smiled. “Oh good, that particular cream seems to have worked perfectly.” She stroked his naked bottom. “That also seems to be coming along nicely… we’ll soon have everything back as it should be.” She beamed down at her shy son saying he looked a lot tidier, and, with a sprinkle of powder, added that the entire area was now so much more hygienic. “Yes mama.” Was the only reply he could think of as she covered him in cream, bundled him into a thick diaper, pinned him snuggly in and had him step into another pair of crinkly plastic pants. His Sunday special church clothes were always hung up and ready but this time instead of his pressed grey trousers he was given the same style of grey shorts his little brothers wore. Once again his deep sigh said everything that needed to be said. His parents were making a very heavy point that, by his actions, he was still a child and, like his younger brothers, needed guidance. The fact that he’d stolen so many baby items was coming back to haunt him in a big way. There was no point in arguing and assumed everyone at the church would know he was being punished for what he’d done. It was a small town so word got around fairly quickly and Caleb’s crimes were not going to be hidden, that was not the way Thomas and Emily Jefferson dealt with things. Open and honest in all their dealings, even if their methods weren’t to everyone’s taste. Their three boys looked a picture as they walked into the morning service - white shirts, blue ties, blue knee-length socks and their matching grey shorts. All eyes were on Caleb, his short trousers offering little disguise as he crinkled with each shameful step, whilst the heat of guilt flushed through his system. His trip to the Rendle’s wearing only a diaper had become the talk of the town. Some parents were disgusted at treating a teenager in such a barbaric fashion, though the majority of attendees at the church approved of his parent’s system of reining in such bad behaviour. With Joshua and Daniel sitting either side of him Caleb stood out as the service progressed. The Reverend added extra emphasis to his sermon about obeying your parents as well as the Lord. The ‘Amens’ that followed were probably the loudest response he’d had for quite some time. No matter how hard he tried to blend in there was no doubt that Caleb was the centre of attention. He could feel the trickles of guilt running down his skin and collecting at the small of his back. Under his arms and between his newly bared pubic area pools of sweat were gathering. Helped by the thick vinyl pants, the hot morning and his guilty conscience, the pristine diaper was already soaked through. Throughout the service he could feel eyes on his back. People were stretching to see his thick diaper and it wasn’t difficult as every time he stood to sing the hymns, his crinkly, rustling pants attracted attention. It seemed that the entire sermon was directed at him as the shame of what he’d done became magnified by each word the Reverend uttered. Caleb prayed that his punishment would soon be over but until it was, he promised the Lord to obey every word his parents spoke and put up with the penalty they thought the crime deserved. Stealing baby clothes meant he was destined for the time being at least to wearing them. He’d hated the privately administered strap and he hated the public diaper but of the two, the diaper was by far the easiest to cope with. He feared another beating and, had he been offered a choice, he’d have settled for the diaper. However, his parents had reduced him to being a dependent child so the decision was not of his choosing. # There was no quick escape after the service either as his parents chatted with other parishioners. He was standing slightly away from them keeping the twins entertained until it was time to return home. The boys were always happy to spend time with their older brother so were childishly chatting away, finding things to ask and keeping him occupied like only two curious four year-olds can. Whenever Caleb dared scan the surrounding faces he could see looks and nods in his direction from groups who gathered for their weekly after-church gossip and suspected he was the main topic of conversation. There were smiles, grimaces and disdain mixed in with laughter and shakes of the head. One of the boys he’d truanted with, Gary, and who was in on the binge was also standing quietly by the side of his parents. They hadn’t put him in shorts but there was no doubt about it, the normally noisy and loud classmate was greatly subdued. Guiltily he looked away when the two boy’s eyes met across the road. Caleb saw the look of anger on his parents face when he began to whine about going home and the scared expression when his father murmured something in his ear and pointed accusingly across the road to him. Gary immediately stopped talking, stood to attention and it looked like tears were not far away. Whatever his father had said made an impact that silenced his ill-disciplined son and to fear the implied repercussions. Under such an unsympathetic look the sweating teen experienced further nervous rivulets cascade down his back. He trembled under such constant and withering reproach and wished he could just hide away. However, the twins soon drew Caleb back as they begged to go to the nearby play ground where some of their friends were already screaming with joy on the apparatus. His father nodded ascent so the damp teen was grateful to get away from the penetrating, judgemental stares and push his brothers on the swings. His diaper felt full and wet, the rustle from his plastic pants accompanied each movement but his shorts hardly hid any of this. Normally, on such a sunny morning he’d be leading his brothers in some kind of adventure in the park. However, for the moment his general love of life had left him and he just wanted to keep himself to himself. He knew this punishment wasn’t meant to simply humiliate him… but it did. How he wished he could turn back time and avoid all the unforeseen problems mentioning diapers in his school essay had caused. A few older boys wandered over intent on riling Caleb by mocking his tight little shorts, comparing him with his toddler brothers and generally belittling him. Caleb knew he couldn’t respond for fear of reprisals, both from the boys and his father if he got into further trouble. The Bible said to turn the other cheek, so, no matter how difficult it was, he had to prove he could do just that. He didn’t rise to the bait and, because of the lack of response the older boys soon got bored and drifted away. # Once the family got home both his parents appeared in good spirits. Caleb wondered if it was because of the support they were given for the way he was being disciplined but he couldn’t be sure. He knew wearing just a diaper had been very humiliating when he’d had to visit the Rendle’s but hoped that wearing shorts would at least prevent people from seeing his diaper. The fact that his young brothers wore no padding under their shorts only seemed to emphasise that the well-protected teen did; as did the constant manipulation of the item to gain as much comfort as possible from its bunching effect. However, now he was home he even lost the security of those tiny shorts as he was once again told to strip down to his protection. Thomas had made it abundantly clear that as Caleb had lost the trust of both him and his mother, and until they could be sure he wouldn’t try to renege on his punishment, the ‘visibility’ rule would continue. School, church and trips out of the house for any reason meant he might be allowed to wear shorts over his diaper, though he had to check with either parent before venturing outside, it would be a privilege he’d have to earn. He had to understand the diaper wasn’t for humiliation purposes, it was to instil on him that actions have consequences, and this was the consequence of his reckless actions. Caleb, fearing another beating, and very conscious that in fact he had denigrated his parents rules, didn’t complain. He accepted his penance and tried to bear it as stoically as anyone from the Bible would. He knew he’d done wrong, so recognised it would be up to him to make amends. The thick diaper and rustling plastic pants a reminder should he try and forget, even for a moment, the crimes he’d committed. His mother made sure he had various elements to prompt him of his transgressions. Emily hung up the baby clothes the Rendle’s accused him of corrupting next to his own suit and teenage wear. He felt shame every time he opened his closet. She also placed the diapers and baby plastic pants from that ill-judged raid next to his own underwear and diapers so there was a constant memento whenever he had to change. Thankfully, school and for most outdoor activities, his parents usually let him wear shorts over the puffy wadding. It was the constant asking for permission that was exasperating but he knew he had to be polite and adhere to the rules if he didn’t want things to worsen. Eventually, the thickness between his legs wasn’t that much of a problem and found he slept a lot easier once he was back wearing a diaper at night. When he thought about it, snugly bound genitals at night for over fourteen years was something he was used to. Why he thought he could change that, he didn’t know. The early bed times were a bit of a problem but he’d managed to convince his parents that he should read Bible stories to the twins before they went to sleep. He didn’t know it, but this suggestion pleased everyone and greatly helped his case for the eventual return to normality. Caleb chose the stories carefully. According to the ‘good book’ there were a great deal of unpleasant outcomes for sinners in the Old Testament, he didn’t want to scare his little brothers. He’d briefly seen their faces after he’d been disciplined and didn’t want to put them through such distress again. He kept to the simple scriptures of peace, love and Jesus’s good works. Sometimes his brothers would snuggle up against him to hear the stories better or simply to be close. He would wrap his arms around them and draw them in as he whispered part of the verses and they’d thrill to the message, shivering in excitement or giggle at the way Caleb voiced different characters. Meanwhile, unknown to Caleb, his parents would be rejoicing that their son was back on the straight and narrow. He’d seen the error of his ways and had returned to the faith and his family. Thomas knew the ‘good book’ would guide and inspire his son. In reality, all his sons, as the twins listened intently to each story delivered by their older and perhaps now wiser brother. Thomas was once again reminded of another verse from the Bible. Matthew 18:12-14 If a man has a hundred sheep and one of them has gone astray, does he not leave the ninety-nine on the mountains and go in search of the one that went astray? And if he finds it, truly, I say to you, he rejoices over it more than over the ninety-nine that never went astray. So it is not the will of my Father who is in heaven that one of these little ones should perish. He wasn’t going to let Caleb off easily; the boy had done wrong and needed to be in no doubt that a repeat offence was not an option. However, he was happy to have this own wayward sheep back in the fold. Part 3 It may have seemed unlikely that a fourteen year-old lacked any sexual knowledge but Caleb was in many ways quite innocent. Often, when the topic had come up at school he was mystified as to what was being discussed, or, more precisely, why everyone was giggling about the subject. He knew boys and girls were different but had little interest in finding out anything further. However, Caleb had quickly, but nervously, come to appreciate his smooth cock and balls. Whereas, before he’d never given that part of anatomy much attention (the tightly fitted diaper keeping his hand away at night) now he was more attentive. The glossy plastic pants complimented his silky, naked pubic area, and although it would be laughed at by his classmates, he was beginning to enjoy the feeling his new hairless area gave. Even his diaper seemed to offer more intense sensations. School for Caleb became weird very quickly. Everyone knew he was back in diapers because of the ‘Rendle incident’ so at recess and lunchbreaks, all around the building, that was the main topic of conversation. Suddenly, social media and just plain local gossip were alive to the subject of diapers and punishment. Within a few days ‘teenager in a diaper’ had become THE story and trending hashtag, everyone wanted in on it – the Twittersphere went ballistic. All and sundry had an opinion and happy to share it in any way they could. Caleb was overwhelmed by the interest, with his padding becoming the focus of far too much attention from school mates and even strangers. He wished more people read the Bible. Luke 6:31 “Do to others as you would have them do to you.” Perhaps then they wouldn’t be so ready to chastise and abuse him. Gary, Buddy, Sanjeev, Carlos and Max, the boys he got drunk with, had all become distant with him and, to a certain extent, each other. Apparently, Mrs Rendle had created quite a fuss with the neighbours and all the boys had been chastised to a greater or lesser extent. After a severe beating by his father, Gary, the ringleader and whose home it was (and who spiked Caleb’s drinks) had been threatened with Military School. Now he was on his best behaviour and hardly dare speak to anyone never mind give his usual confident backchat. The little group had been broken but it was the extent of Caleb’s punishment that created a barrier between them. None wanted to end up in diapers like him and thought the best course of action was to keep their distance. They needn’t have worried, their involvement in the dare was almost forgotten and it was only Caleb people focused on. However, with all this attention new thoughts entered the troubled teen’s head; was he was being tested? With the fantastic thrill he felt thanks to his sleek pubic area, diaper and plastic pants, maybe the Lord was testing his resolve not to pleasure himself? Also, making him the subject of such derision, perhaps God was penalising him in his own way? Then he had another theory; what if it was Satan making things worse? Guilt spread through his body; he couldn’t let the Devil anywhere near his family. He couldn’t give in to any form of temptation. He had to be good for the sake of his brother’s and his own salvation. # James 1:13-15 When tempted, no one should say, “God is tempting me.” For God cannot be tempted by evil, nor does he tempt anyone; but each person is tempted when they are dragged away by their own evil desire and enticed. Then, after desire has conceived, it gives birth to sin; and sin, when it is full-grown, gives birth to death. Meanwhile, other boys just wanted to take the piss, although even they had to admit that Caleb was dealing with his peculiar circumstances a lot better than they ever would. A few boys maintained that they would never let their parents treat them in such a way but, Caleb was unlike most of his classmates and understood what it meant to let his family down. So, if it meant keeping his distance from friends, and keeping his hand outside of his diaper, then that’s what he’d do. Although he didn’t like the present state of affairs, he knew from the Bible he had to gain his parents, and God’s, respect back, no matter how long it took. The town began to divide into two particular camps. The pro-Jefferson family stance was applauded by older citizens, whilst the younger population were incensed at the brutal and humiliating way the teenager was being treated. They didn’t actually know about the beating but that didn’t stop them speculating. Such was the intensity of the debate that a local newspaper ran a feature on the subject. Without mentioning the Jefferson’s by name they created a discussion forum and explored the pros and cons of what was happening to Caleb (although again, without mentioning him by name). What started out as a small, quirky feature developed into a huge talking-point. It was amazing, with social media and the like in full swing things happened at incredible speed. Some were funny, like the diapers on celebrities, but when Caleb was identified as the real ‘victim’ people wanted answers. Interest had been stirred; it was no longer acceptable to be theoretical about the subject, the papers wanted to know all about Caleb and his parents. Caleb had never been the most popular boy in school he was seen as too much of a goody-goody, his religious upbringing putting many people off. What he’d done was completely out of character and had ended in disaster. Now his small group of friends had been scattered, and the fact he was wearing tiny shorts and a bulky diaper, meant he was even more of a misfit to most of the school… but not everyone. As much he tried to avoid the situation, Caleb had suddenly become a bit of a local celebrity. Girls especially wanted to get to know him and it seemed the diapers under his shorts were a beacon for those who wanted to date him as much as those who wanted to mother him – his situation produced a wide range of responses. He himself was bewildered by the entire proceedings and just wanted to melt away. # However, some of the girls held a ‘diaper-in’; they all arrived for a day of support wearing thick diapers to class. It was a strange act of solidarity towards the protection-wearing teen but one he took no part in, preferring to keep his head down and do what was right for his family. He begged them all not to argue amongst themselves but refused to talk on camera when a local news channel decided he was newsworthy. With the arrival of the camera crew the conversation and interest went up several notches and soon everyone had something to say on the subject, apart that is, from the Jefferson family. The reporter and cameraman made no bones about getting an interview with the central character but Caleb just ran off though not before the camera zoomed in on his tight and puffy shorts. It probably didn’t help that he was rustling quite loudly as he made his exit, the noisy plastic pants making the journo smile as he disappeared. There were far too many voices shouting at Caleb and though he tried to ignore them it was getting more and more difficult. The problem was the entire event had become bigger than just a stupid drunken dare backfiring and the culprit made to make amends. It was now about using humiliation as punishment and what were the acceptable levels (if any) of that humiliation. What was missed by this general clamour of ‘moral outrage’ was at no point had Caleb voiced his own personal outrage either publicly or privately. He simply accepted the punishment his father thought was necessary. Emily arrived home with the twins to find a photographer in her back garden taking shots of the washing hanging out on the line. He smiled and quickly made his exit once he’d been discovered but not without firing off another series of shots of her and the twins. It all occurred so quickly. She was barely able to register what was happening but once she realised the line of billowing diapers had been the thing of interest she became angry at such an intrusion. She could readily understand the feeling Mrs Rendle had of violation after her clothes had been stolen. It just wasn’t right. Meanwhile, the phone was constantly ringing and, after answering a few strange and abusive calls, where “No comment” was dismissed as an unacceptable response from a reporter, it was left to the machine to screen all incoming messages. Without a statement from the boy or the parents it was left to the two opposing factions to vent their spleen. The TV crew were not without plenty of volunteers who wanted to add their two cent’s worth. Proverbs 18:2 A fool takes no pleasure in understanding, but only in expressing his opinion. Mrs Rendle in particular was keen to put her side of the argument about the attitude of the ‘youth of today’ but conceded that it took a great deal of guts to appear at her door, as Caleb had, to apologise wearing nothing but a diaper. In fact, it was this particular ‘bizarre’ incident that had piqued press interest. How could a teenager be persuaded to dress in such a way and be made to apologise? What threats, coercion or downright violence would have to be in force for that to happen? These were questions the locals, and now the press, wanted to investigate. It was a story they knew would get people talking as everyone would have an opinion. Mrs Rendle also became a bit of a star herself as she expressed her distaste for the local youth and told anyone who’d listen about the exchange between her and Caleb. Tactfully, she didn’t mention he’d wet himself, much to the appreciation of the boy himself. However, there was another reaction to all this intense scrutiny that no one had foreseen - Caleb and his brothers had all started waking up soaked. When it first occurred Caleb guiltily shrugged it off as an unfortunate accident, thinking it might have something to do with him enjoying the naked sensation ‘down there’. Whatever the reason he was thankful to his parents for making him wear protection. However, after the third consecutive night, and the fact the same thing was happening to Joshua as well as Daniel, the event became far more alarming. It appeared stress was contagious and the boys were suddenly peeing in sync and sympathy at night. Although only Caleb wore a waterproof cover all the time, all the boys now wore rubber pants at night as a safeguard. Meanwhile, the washing line got heavier and heavier with the daily laundry. # At school Caleb was constantly being questioned and assaulted, supported and insulted in equal measure. Unfortunately, this constant attention led to a traumatic confrontation during a lunchbreak when a reporter from a daily newspaper had determined the story needed nationwide exposure. The female journalist appeared friendly enough to begin with, before Caleb realised her real business, but suspicion grew when he noticed a photographer, with a long range lens, taking sneaky shots from different angles obviously trying to get a photo of his actual diaper. In fact, the reporter got quite aggressive when he refused to expose himself to her so they could get a decent shot. Such interest in the subject was a mystery to the Jefferson’s who had decided, as a family, they wanted nothing to do with what they saw as nobody else’s business. The reporter tried to blackmail Caleb by saying that if he cooperated the item would be sympathetic towards him and his family, but if not… Ecclesiastes 7:7 Extortion turns a wise person into a fool, and a bribe corrupts the heart. All Caleb’s upbringing had made him respect others and especially those older than himself (a reminder as to what happens when that rule is forgotten was hugging his bruised bottom at that moment). However, such was the line of questioning, and the apparent inability to take “Sorry, no comment” as an answer led to what must have been a natural outcome for a timid young lad desperate not to be involved in any of this circus. # Scared and completely out of any sort of comfort zone he panicked, flooding his diaper in public. Horror seeped into every bone in his body as he felt the warm golden liquid soak into his thick protection. Thankfully, unlike the time at the Rendle’s when he’d wet and the result was apparent, this time the plastic pants his mother had insisted he wear were a blessing. All the fluid was kept inside the slippery barrier so at least he hadn’t given the photographer the one shot he was desperate for. A sodden and sobbing Caleb tried to escape the badgering reporter but found himself penned in. Luckily, some of the girls saw what was happening and were able to escort him away from the hostile interrogation. Caleb arrived home soaked, harried and in tears. The pressure on the fourteen year-old was just too much and he couldn’t cope. He seemed confused as he kept ranting over and over again. “Forgive me father for I have sinned (sob) Forgive me father for I have sinned.” He threw himself down and knelt next to his bed in prayer, his bulging shorts displaying the fullness of his dilemma, and pleading with the Lord to forgive him. “Forgive me father for I have…” “Ssshhhhh.” Emily hugged and soothed him as best she could but the boy was inconsolable and blamed himself for bringing such unwarranted attention to his family. “I’m sorry, sorry, sorrrrrrrry…” The tears gushed and the grief-stricken lad didn’t know what to do to make amends. Emily patted his padded bottom detecting the mushy diaper. She hoped that being put into something dry might make things better. The process was achieved very quickly with barely any acknowledgment from Caleb. She put him to bed in the hope sleep would take away the pain but he just whimpered restlessly until Daniel slipped his pacifier between his older brothers lips. It was something the four year-old used occasionally when he got fussy or upset about something. Caleb was so drained it was only a couple of minutes before the effects of suckling soon encouraged sleep. Thomas had been working out of town and had missed most of what had transpired. Once Emily brought him up to speed he realised his actions had contributed greatly to the current fever gripping the town. He looked in on his distressed but sleeping son and was amazed to see the pacifier still being gently nursed. “Oh heavens. What’s happened… did he come home like this… did someone… is he…?” His wife realising he’d got the situation all wrong explained about Daniel, who, seeing his brother in such distress, offered him the item he used when upset. Thomas was relieved and immediately went and ruffled the twin’s hair saying what good boys they’d been. Like Caleb they were already damp but wriggled joyfully as they always did when mama or papa praised them. However, now the details of the town’s ‘agitation’ were known Thomas thought of a way to defuse the situation. Later that evening when the family were all together, and a much calmer Caleb had woken up, his parents informed him that, for school at least, he no longer would be required to wear a diaper and shorts, as that part of the punishment was over. Naively they thought this action would neutralise the problem and everything would get back to normal. However, after the day Caleb had, and the fact that he’d wet himself at school, the panic-stricken boy begged his parent to let him continue to wear his protection until he was sure it wouldn’t happen again. He pleaded with them that his pants, with an accidental wet mark down the front, would make things a lot worse and only add to the story. Reluctantly they agreed with his summation of the situation and hoped that his school pants would hide his padding. The following day, and without any of the main characters having been interviewed, a national newspaper carried the story, with photographs. It was at this point that all hell broke loose. Open season had been declared on the Jefferson’s. # Part 4 PARENTS OUT OF CONTROL - TEENAGER RETURNED TO BABYHOOD Not quite true but the large banner headline led to a three page feature with editorial comments on page seven. Ostensibly it was an attack in general on parents who subject their children to draconian and malicious punishment, deriding the use of humiliation as a tool to improve behaviour. There were quotes from psychiatrists and paediatricians decrying the practice and with plenty of ‘discussion’ areas for the reader to get involved in the process. There was even a ‘for and against’ vote line for readers to call. Not that the article was biased but, as the main characters had refused to be interviewed, the reporter put together her piece from tittle-tattle, opposing ‘spokes-persons’, ‘leaders of the community’ and just about anyone from whom she could garner a quote. Also, because she hadn’t acquired the ‘star’ interview, there was a great deal of her own vitriol hidden behind a ‘compassionate’ veneer. The report carried a main photograph of Caleb standing alone wearing his shorts and the obvious padding, although the image had been doctored to reveal more of the diaper than was actually visible. The caption underneath, and the accompanying description of the ‘distressed’ teen, making it appear he was a sad boy alone in a judgmental world inflicted on him by uncaring parents. His ‘crime’ was gone into in great detail, thanks to Mrs Rendle. A photograph of her and her ‘traumatised’ kids showed there was a reason for his punishment. So, although it gave the impression the newspaper cared, it was an attack on both parents and today’s unthinking youth. In print at least the reporter seemed happy to play each side off against the other. The background to the page was the washing line full of windblown fabric diapers and the implication at how cruel the parents must be to make their teenage son wear such babyish items to school. With the washing line full (it did include the twin’s diapers after all), it looked like poor Caleb was compelled to wear, and use, his diapers all the time to add to his humiliation. This wasn’t the case but the journalist was happy to insinuate as much, after all, she didn’t want the truth getting in the way of a good story. The reporter speculated about how he might have been further punished but only the Jefferson’s knew what had really happened and they weren’t talking to anyone about the incident. However, uninformed assumptions were made, and then reported as fact – ‘…a disgusting violation by his ‘god-fearing’, ‘church-going’ parent’s’ the paper proclaimed. The journo had taken quotes from the Reverend saying how religious the Jefferson’s were but used that information to attack them for their ‘unchristian’ style of punishment, which, as far as the newspaper was concerned (read the editorial on Page 7), amounted to nothing less than abuse. When a local politician was asked for his opinion, and seeing an election on the horizon, he sided with the parents who, according to his statement “Had a difficult tight rope to walk when disciplining a child but, all in all, and with everything considered, they were doing the best they could.” Now a politician had stuck his nose into the debate the press wires became intense and suddenly, what had started as a drunken dare and subsequent punishment for a child, became a national ‘outrage’. It was an ‘outrage’ depending on which side you were on. # By week’s end the madness had grown out of all proportion and life was getting very difficult for the Jefferson’s. All the news networks had picked up on the story and were running with their own features and opinions. National politicians, children’s authors, social commentators, religious leaders, psychologists and psychoanalysts were happy to share their ‘learned’ thoughts on the subject. Punishment became the main topic in the media. They scrambled for stories where some poor kid had been embarrassed by some form of discipline. Not all of the outlandish stories were true but the thirst for these horrendous accounts meant that some people were doing very well out of it all. Still the Jefferson’s refused to comment… other than “No comment”, but the pressure on them was mounting. Although others were happy to talk (complain) about their experiences, the fact that the family had remained silent had made them even more desirable as ‘guests’. The producers of the top-rated chat shows arrogantly thought that although the family may not wish to chat to mere news outlets, they would no doubt jump at the chance to be interviewed (sympathetically of course) in a cosy studio by one of their ‘superstar’ celebrities. Alas, money, cars, would be agents, celebrity, flights to the capital, New York, Los Angeles, Chicago… in fact, to everywhere, the offers were met with a resounding “No comment”. Neither Thomas nor Emily had ever put great store in wealth so weren’t tempted by any of the fantastic propositions. Hebrews 13:5 Keep your lives free from the love of money and be content with what you have, because God has said, “Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.” In all this clutter things got worse for Caleb. The focus of attention had made it impossible for him to continue being a normal schoolboy. His brief period of getting back into pants instead of shorts hadn’t been the success his parents had hoped for. He was being ridiculed by some of his fellow students for not wearing his shorts and being proud of having to wear a diaper. The fact that he was now using diapers as a safety precaution was never mentioned. His smooth, naked cock and balls were no longer of any interest to him as he felt that in some way, his enjoyment of them was adding to his sins, and the fact he was wetting more was the proof. He kept his hand well away from that part of his anatomy but continued to saturate his diapers. The thick cotton fabric doing its best to soak it all up but mercifully the plastic pants were the real saviours in preventing accidental spillage. Further incidents ensued that frightened Caleb. On a visit to the boy’s room he was followed by some older boys who attacked him. They didn’t beat him up or anything they just held him down, stripped him out of his shorts, and took photographs of him wearing only his diaper and plastic pants. They even thanked him before giving back his shorts saying that they could sell the photos and make a fortune. Whether they had or not he didn’t know but the event left him shaking in fear. Only a few hours later, he was almost home when a police officer stopped him and said he had to accompany him to headquarters. By now he was suspicious of being approached by anyone he didn’t know so told the cop he’d have to speak with his parents first. When the officer said that wouldn’t be necessary because he’d already spoken to them and they said it was OK, he knew it was a lie and ran home. He wasn’t pursued. Every day there seemed to be another piece of video of Caleb walking somewhere, the wobbly camerawork desperate to get a close up of the offending item. He was cornered by fellow classmates as well as news crews and on several occasions the pressure got to him and he’d fill his diaper. At those moments he was so glad his mama had fitted him securely into rubber pants. Caleb had come to rely on his waterproof covering to stop any leaks because he was wetting himself on a regular basis. In many ways he felt more secure now he had that vinyl shield around to protect him. He didn’t want to give the terrors he was living through any more credibility with a display of wet pants. After a few days of this total madness his parents decided he should stay home, hoping that with Caleb not being at school the media would go away. Unfortunately, they were besieged by an ever demanding, sneaky and invasive press. The phone had been unplugged, the curtains drawn, the family couldn’t go anywhere without being overwhelmed by ‘interested parties’. Thomas was finding it difficult to go to work and Emily couldn’t hang out washing without a barrage of photographers covering her every step. The pressure to speak was becoming intense and more than one of the congregation was offered money if they could convince the family to be interviewed. The media went into exclusive mode. The amount of money offered to procure the family for a prime time interview was simply incredible. Dollar signs appeared in everyone’s eyes (except for the Jefferson’s), as pressure was put upon the family to speak once and for all. Even the Reverend had been tempted to try and coerce Thomas to relent his stance. The standard, “No comment”, which was always followed by a smile and a wave from Thomas was really annoying the media. They were used to being able to get anyone to give a statement, be interviewed or pass their personal opinions without any trouble. However, they hadn’t bargained for a close family like the Jefferson’s and were at a loss on how to take things further. The local ‘non-story’ had escalated out of all proportion and become a major issue. Questions were being asked by serious politicians and debated on the floor of the house. Rumour had it that the Jefferson’s would be indicted to appear before a children’s court. This self-perpetuating business of news needed the main protagonists and they were refusing to speak. All the boys were under great duress, even the twins were finding the situation difficult because they couldn’t go out to play or see their friends. The house began to take on an odour of pee as none of them appeared to have any control and the stress levels continued to rise. Mrs Jefferson could no longer wash and dry the diapers in her usual way so had to resort to airing them over radiators or as best she could. If she ventured down to the store to buy anything there would be a crowd gather, inspecting and gossiping on the items in her basket. Another strange occurrence was that the store, and in fact most of the stores in the town, needed a continual supply of diapers, disposables , powders and baby cream as they were regularly selling out. It would appear that either by choice, or by disciplinarian parents, diapers were being used by more and more of the town’s population. Somehow, someone had got a message to Caleb, offering him a staggering amount if he’d ‘blow the lid’ on his parents cruelty. He passed the message straight to his father who simply shook his head in bewilderment. His father just didn’t understand why money seemed so important. Timothy 6:7-8 For we brought nothing into the world, and we can take nothing out of it. But if we have food and clothing, we will be content with that. Representatives from the top-rated TV chat shows offered huge incentives to try and get the family to appear. Even when two competing ‘celebrities’ arrived at the Jefferson’s door within moments of each other, they were both stunned to be turned away without being allowed to put their offers. “No comment but thank you for coming” was the only response they got. Thomas and Emily were subject to a stream of abuse from some quarters, whilst in other areas there were nods of approval. So, even though everyone had more or less made up their minds, they still wanted to hear the facts from these two. Although the Jefferson’s thought the outcry and clamour were ridiculous, it was now having such a detrimental effect on family life a decision was made that, for the sake of their children, they would speak. Thomas sorted through the list of offers that had been made and settled on one from a news channel with a very senior and respected reporter. Although this journalist had covered wars and famine, had been decorated and won innumerable awards, he knew that this human interest story was a good one. However, as Thomas Jefferson had said - he was the only person on TV he trusted, it was his exclusive or nothing. Arrangements were made and the family, under cover of night, were picked up and transported to a secret location for the interview. The twins weren’t going to be featured but Caleb and his parents were. None of the family was looking forward to it but saw they had very few alternatives because not being involved just made them more of a target for gossip and threats. It was going to be a live interview. Thomas insisted he wouldn’t be recorded as he didn’t want what he said to be edited, he was very suspicious of how TV worked. ‘Morals and Punishment’ was its working title and as they sat around for the red ‘live’ light to come on, the Jefferson’s were most uncomfortable. In fact, Caleb had been so anxious all day he was already filling his third diaper. The crew had asked Caleb to wear his shorts and padding for the show and although Thomas had said his son didn’t have to if he didn’t want, the teen agreed to the producer’s request. Throughout the day the crew had been very attentive but with only a couple of hours to go before they went live there was a bit of disruption. The family were left as they all disappeared into a meeting and with less than an hour to go, the entire interview was called off. The news story that knocked the Jefferson off the front page was the fact that a senior politician had been found and filmed with his mistress, a Russian spy. That became the main story and only feature for that night’s show so the Jefferson segment was bumped. The live interview wasn’t even taped for future transmission because the senior reporter, sensing a much more significant revelation, was already on his way to interview the shamed Politician. Strange how fickle news can be because on the same day a ‘Senior White House Official’ was found to be supplying drugs and, to top off what had been a couple of very ‘slow news’ weeks, Beijing had hacked the Kremlin and the world situation was deteriorating rapidly. # The Jefferson’s were completely forgotten and things in their home town swiftly got back to normal. For Caleb it was a different story. Now every morning he woke up soaked. His sleep was disturbed by nightmares and he didn’t trust anyone but his family. Although his return to school was greeted well, he never felt comfortable there anymore. He continued to wear diapers day and night because he could no longer guarantee not having an accident. In fact, he’d pee in his diaper and not realise until after the event. Caleb became one very sad teenager and really didn’t understand why his body was letting him down on a daily basis. Thomas, saw his son’s distress. After the news ‘silly season’ they’d all been subjected to he realised what happened in his son’s life was down to him and wasn’t sure how to make amends. He read the Bible looking for inspiration. He rescinded the diaper wearing and visibility rule. He desperately wanted everything to get back to normal, as did Caleb, but unfortunately the boy still wet on a regular basis. “Forgive me son, for I have sinned.” Thomas hugged his son tightly. “I have let my obsession for keeping my children on the right path obscure their own needs and desires… and as a result have subjected you to the horrors of an uncaring world. I’m so very sorry for putting you through all that.” A tear ran down his cheek. “I want to be proud of my sons. I want to guide them in the way of the Lord but I feel I may have damaged you in the process… and that is…” “Papa, I did wrong.” It was reassuring to see Caleb jump to his father’s defence and not lay blame. “I needed to be punished… it hurt but… I thought you did the right thing. It made me understand…” Now Caleb was holding onto tears. He didn’t like to think his papa was ever wrong. He needed him to always care and to look out for them all. “You made me realise how stupid I’d been. I needed that guidance papa…” He felt the thick padding in his pants. “I’m sure this will pass but… please papa… don’t blame yourself for the way things turned out.” Now his mother joined in the hug. “I will never disobey you again papa, mama… you have shown me what can happen when I stray from the rules you and the Lord lay down. I am the one asking for forgiveness.” Luke 9:42 While he was still approaching, the demon slammed him to the ground and threw him into a convulsion. But Jesus rebuked the unclean spirit, and healed the boy and gave him back to his father. # Mama opened the front door to let in the fresh morning light. A gentle warming gust flooded the house and set the atmosphere in a pleasant swirl. Soon, all the windows and doors were open letting air circulate for the first time in what felt like weeks but had only been a few days. There was no one hanging around; the press and TV crews had departed so the coast was clear, Emily sighed in relief as she checked in on her boys. As he was being changed into a dry morning diaper Caleb asked his mother if, because he was wetting every night, it was retribution from God. “I don’t think so sweetheart.” She tried to take the solemn look off his face and make him feel better. “You’ve been under a great deal of strain… and… under such circumstances it’s not unusual for that anxiety to reveal itself in different ways.” She smiled a comforting smile. “God likes to see people repent when they’ve done something wrong… and loves you even more because of that… but maybe… he just likes to see one of his favourites in diapers because you look so cute.” She tickled his tummy. This was not how his mother normally spoke to him and her smile, as well as being described as ‘cute’, made him laugh at such a silly (though heart-warming) suggestion. # Emily was relieved to see her son, who had gotten so serious, laugh. It had been a while since the joy he usually brought to the house had been seen because the past few days had weighed so heavily on his slim shoulders. She was also in no rush for him to escape his diapers; she’d loved the closeness and reliance they had engendered. The cream she spread around his genitals gave him that familiar glow before the powder and final pins made him ready for the day. He confidently stepped into his now familiar vinyl pants and pulled them up over the fresh bulk. And, thanks to his mother, happy in the knowledge that God was not angry with him. His parents recognised that their teenage son had been under extreme pressure and weren’t surprised that, as they made him wear diapers, he’d begun to use them. He’d never been a particularly outgoing or confident boy and his experience over the past few days had added a shattering level of anxiety. Presently the boy’s diapers and plastic pants were once again fluttering in the warm sun and gentle breeze, whilst the twins were able to play in the garden with their older brother. Here Caleb felt safe and was in the ideal place to deal with what had happened. The madness of the last few days had impacted badly on Caleb. He hadn’t enjoyed being the centre of attention and didn’t enjoy the fact that for some reason his night time diaper continued to be soaked, although he felt better about that now. Playing with his noisy, but always entertaining, younger brothers took his mind off the fact that it was his confession about wearing diapers that started all the fuss in the first place. The way that admission led to a desperate need to be accepted by his judgemental friends and then the subsequent stupid dare… he hadn’t needed that form of approval. Now he had to wear protection all the time for safety reasons it didn’t seem at all babyish, it made him feel secure. The incident had brought him closer to his parents and the rebel he’d briefly entertained completely disappeared like the bruise on his bottom. # With the departure of the media things quickly resumed as normal. Soon, as peace returned, it was as if their little town hadn’t been at the centre of such a national frenzy. Well, that isn’t quite true. The thing is, the publicity made quite a number of people start to wonder. They wondered what it would be like to have to wear diapers all the time. It may have surprised Caleb, and his parents, to know just how many town’s folk wore and loved the snuggly comfort of the thing that had been the centre of much ridicule not so long ago. Diapers, in certain quarters of that town, were back in fashion... for pleasure as well as punishment. So, although it may take some time for Caleb to be able to go without his crinkly plastic protection, he wasn’t going to be doing it alone… even if he didn’t know it. ### THE END
  10. Hi, this is a re-post of the entire story all in one go. However, past comments are still available to view at the end should you wish to examine what others thought. 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. # Part 2 I had a fitful night’s sleep; the same dream kept occurring time and time again. I was uncomfortable because my diaper had become bunched up and annoying. In my dream I kept trying to pull it down and rearrange it but my tiny hands couldn’t actually grasp anything because of the covering thick glossy plastic pants. I became frustrated and grumpy and began to cry. Auntie came in, soothed away the tears and in her gentle embrace the diaper didn’t seem to be a problem so I could relax. Strangely enough I managed to slip into the crook of her arm like I was just a baby. To help settle even more she handed over a teddy bear, which was wonderful to touch so I cuddled that, as she cuddled me, and eventually we all dropped off together. However, sometime later the exact same dream would occur and I’d begin to feel irritable and try to lose the diaper all over again, and with the same outcome. It was no surprise then when I did awake (I think it was the sound of the rail being unclicked and eased down) to see Auntie Joan beaming down at me. “Hello sweetie, hope you slept well, I didn’t hear a peep out of you all night so I reckon somebody needed his sleep.” It was wonderful waking up to a smiling, friendly face and as I yawned and stretched myself into wakefulness, she drew back the blinds to reveal a lovely sunny morning. I lay under the warm duvet feeling happy and that was a feeling I hadn’t woken up to for such a long time. “Now sweetie, don’t take this the wrong way,” she raised her eyebrows in a most comical way, “but are you wet?” I was smiling myself and shook my head at first but then became aware of just exactly what I was wearing. Up until that moment I’d completely forgotten that I’d been put in a diaper the night before. However, I didn’t feel wet like I had when at school or more recently at home. Nevertheless, as I gave it some thought and ran my hand over the bulge at my groin I realised that it was definitely bigger and smoother under my, er, what was that, I touched the metal snaps under my crotch, a onesie?, that I must have done something. I made a face, which I hoped looked like I wasn’t actually admitting to anything but also that I might have done. She said, “Well it doesn’t matter we can sort it out later.” She pulled back my cover to reveal my bulky groin. “Let’s have some breakfast and then we’ll decide what to do for the rest of the day.” The room was already warming up because it looked and felt like it was going to be another glorious sunny, hot Kansas day. My pale (English) bare legs stuck out from this huge swelling diaper but, and I strangely found it reassuring, there was no tell-tale stain on my blue onesie, whatever I’d done was all contained. # My undignified waddle down stairs and into the kitchen was a little disturbing, well, disturbing in a way I wasn’t quite expecting because I simply didn’t mind. Auntie had dressed me appropriately for bed just in case I wet, and now that I knew I had, I thought how brilliant it was that she’d had such foresight to know precisely what was needed for my comfort. I loved my auntie even more at that moment; she was interested in me and cared. So, as we sat and ate breakfast, with me perched on top of a very thick diaper; I wondered what other surprises this woman had up her sleeve. I asked why she and my father had not been on speaking terms for so long and it was the first time I saw her radiant smile fail. “Well you’ve asked, so I’m going to tell you but I’m not sure you’ll understand my reaction.” A shiver of worry slipped down my spine as I wondered if I’d crossed a line and so quickly ruined something that had seemed so wonderful. “Bill, your Uncle Bill, who I doubt you’ll remember, was on his way to an interview that your father had set up.” I sat nervously waiting for the story to unravel and I began to wish I’d never asked. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to know, I was just worried things would change between me and Auntie Joan. “It was a job I’d begged Bill not to pursue but your father, my big brother, had taken it upon himself to push Bill into at least going for an interview.” She looked over at me to see how I was reacting. “Unfortunately, on the freeway to Kansas City a fuel truck spun out of control, off the highway and across into oncoming traffic. The truck exploded and took out another truck and four cars travelling in the opposite direction. All the occupants, including my husband were consumed in the fireball…” She gulped back tears and I swallowed hard as another shudder passed through my body. It was weird that I felt more sympathy for man I didn’t remember dying in such a dramatic and awful manner than I did with my own parents. This was not the story I’d expected and was desperately sorry I’d made auntie relive the experience. I wanted to comfort her. I got up and shuffled round until I had my hands on her shoulders and I could feel her body shaking with grief. “Ohh, I’m so sorry.” I muttered in a whisper. “I didn’t mean to…” My words seemed stupid and useless at that moment so I just continued stroking her shoulder and offering my chest for her to weep into. After a few seconds she calmed herself and continued. “I’d begged Bill not to go and more importantly, to me at the time, I’d begged your father to keep out of our affairs. I know he thought he was trying to help but, I’d already told him I didn’t want Bill working for the government, and I certainly didn’t want to move to Kansas City had he got the job. But my brother, as always, knew best and was so controlling.” She reached up and gently touched my hand. “I don’t know if you remember, but you, you were about three then, your mom and dad came to the funeral…” I did have a vague recollection of travelling somewhere but thought it was a party of some kind. I’d forgotten that I’d actually, very briefly, visited this town before. “Henry, your dad, was most apologetic because I hadn’t known exactly how hard he’d pushed Bill into accepting the interview. Once I did we had an enormous row… and I told him and your mother… that I blamed them completely for interfering in our life. As a result I ordered them, and that included an innocent toddler… you… to get out and that I never wanted to see any of you again.” # I was crying in sympathy for my aunt’s loss and I remembered how ‘domineering’ my father always was. I could imagine him pressuring someone else into accepting his decision so I hugged my aunt and we sobbed together. Eventually she came up for air and finished her account. “I wasn’t going to come to their funeral, even after all this time I was still so bitter about it, but the man who came to tell me what had happened in Mumbai also told me about you and that, as your only real family member, they hoped I’d take care of you.” She looked me in the eye and told me straight. “To be honest… I wasn’t sure… but when I met you I couldn’t get over what a wonderful boy you were. Even though you were detached from the entire ceremony I detected an inner vulnerability I just couldn’t ignore. After we’d spoken, and I got the impression of your own thoughts about your parents, I desperately wanted to take you away from people I reckoned didn’t understand you. I detected a lot of built up anger… just like me… and I knew we needed each other to, well, start again” She added almost apologetically. “I’ve never had kids of my own, Bill and I never got around to it but I’ve immersed myself in Rainbow. I love children, I offer them a safe place to grow and play, so why on earth would I turn my back on my own flesh and blood?” She hugged me tightly. “I wanted desperately to look after you and give you what your parents failed to deliver, a loving and supportive environment in which to grow.” She held me at arm’s length, this was getting very intense and I wasn’t sure I could cope with it all. “However, I wonder if I’m too late. I see the rage you have kept bottled within and the upset at the childhood I think you feel you’ve lost, would you trust someone else? I wasn’t sure until I saw your reaction to the nursery and how keen and desperate you were to find some comfort in such a simple place.” She smiled through her red, tear stained eyes. “You looked the same as any child I’ve had at the nursery… happy to be in a place where you are supposed to be safe and have fun.” I couldn’t say anything because she was correct. That room had made me feel safe. All I wanted to do was stay there and sleep because I knew it was a room where I could feel happy and content. Even the pile of diapers and the smell of baby powder hanging in the air were offering me a feeling of, of, joy and satisfaction. But it was the sensation of pure euphoria I experienced as auntie diapered and put me to bed, that just added the final dimension to my feeling of being home. She thought for a few seconds. “How would you feel if I could give you back some aspects of your childhood?” I didn’t know what to say to that but oddly a spurt of pee escaped into my sodden nappy. I was more aware of the fact that I was dressed as a toddler already and wondered if that was what she meant. “Do you mean, er, all this?” I indicated what I was wearing. “Do you want me to be a baby?” I asked with more than a touch of disbelief. She held my hand tightly. “That would be up to you but what I can offer is a place for you to learn to be a kid again. To play, make friends, laugh, cry… but all in your own time. “ She seemed convinced she could make this happen even if I was unsure. “The offer is there should it be something you feel you’d like to at least try?” My head was buzzing with mixed emotions. How could I possibly be a toddler again, it just didn’t make sense? You can’t go backwards, the school in the UK, even though it was stuck in some kind of time warp itself, was very progressive in its teaching methods. “We are constantly moving forwards, we need to make the future our priority.” I could almost hear Mr Cartwright’s lesson, he was all about developing strategies for the betterment of man. “We learn the lessons of the past but we march into a future we help create.” He was one of the few teachers that I had any time for but… well… it wasn’t what I needed at that particular moment. Wondering if I could live my childhood all over again seemed a foolish notion even if I was sitting in a wet diaper. I was nearly fourteen for heaven’s sake and worldly wise in so many ways. Besides, wouldn’t I be required to go to school in my new home town? # There’s no doubt about it, Kansas is hot this time of year. Even though we were indoors the heat of the day was already quite oppressive as I wondered back upstairs. I entered my bedroom and again the packing cases and literally unmade bed sent a shiver of apprehension down my spine. I went over to where I’d slept the night and the calming atmosphere of the place, or maybe it was the smell, but something immediately made me feel at ease. I was standing in a soaked diaper and a tight-fitting onesie but yet felt at peace, even more so, when I wondered over to the Disney bed I’d slept in and hugged the teddy that comforted me throughout the night. There was something about this room that I didn’t understand. Why was I drawn here and why was I so happy to be in a place where a baby would normally sleep? I was perplexed. Auntie had of course followed me and gently asked if I needed help changing. It was weird that whilst in that room, that was precisely what I needed. Auntie took my silence as acquiescence and immediately came over and began to un-pop the studs around my crotch. She lifted the soft onesie over my head (which tickled and I let out a very childish giggle) and then eased my plastic pants over the thick diaper and down my legs, making me lift them one at a time as she pulled them off. I was just transfixed at the gentle way she went about her business, very obviously in control but with a touch that spoke to me more than words alone could do. The retaining tabs were broken and my sopping diaper was lightly guided away as auntie held it so as not to mess anything else. She tapped my bottom and headed me to the shower. As I wriggled under the warm jets, enjoying the soft massage they offered, I gave more thought to auntie’s offer. I wasn’t sure what exactly it would entail but I knew for definite that I liked, no, make that LOVED, what auntie had said and done so far. In just a few days she had gained my confidence and I was more than happy to go along with any and all her suggestions because even then, I knew she would not steer me into doing something I disliked. I trusted my auntie completely and that was something I’d never done with anyone else. # I wrapped a towel around myself and headed for my shambolic bedroom where all the boxes with my clothes in were. I arrived in the doorway full of dread at having to eventually sort it all out when I heard auntie call me from the nursery. “Dean baby, come here for a moment please.” She stood at the side of the low bed, which she’d already remade (although I suppose just straightening a sheet and duvet wasn’t going to take long) and indicated that she’d got my clothes ready for the day. “I hope you don’t mind but I thought these would be appropriate for the day as they are loose and light and I think you’ll feel more comfortable wearing them in our…” she said it with a huge grin as if she was a travel spokesperson for The Kansas Tourist Board, “welcoming heat?” I laughed and shrugged, at least it saved me time rummaging around in various boxes trying to find what was where. “Now then sweetie, a bit of a decision time.” I looked at her with a slight scowl wondering why she was making me make a decision at all; she’d done pretty well so far. She held up a pair of my white CK trunks. “These,” she said wafting them around for a couple of seconds, “or these?” In her other hand she held up a fresh clean disposable. # I was dumbfounded. I’d happily slept in the disposable but I wasn’t sure I would feel comfortable wearing a diaper during the day, when I was out in public, I mean, what would people think? I voiced these concerns as I wrapped the towel more tightly around my body, wishing I really didn’t have to make up my mind. “OK Dean, how about this? Today you wear your pants, but tonight you’ll wear these.” She waved the disposable at me. “In the morning I’ll ask you again and then you’ll make a decision and we’ll go with that. OK?” I nodded my agreement but she still indicated for me to lie out on the bed. “Look you’ve spent the night in a damp diaper so I think you still need some lotion and powder to prevent getting a rash.” I could see the sense in what she was saying so, without any reluctance, I dropped my towel and lay out. As she set about rubbing in some rather nice oil she mentioned that if I was going to be wearing diapers regularly I might have to think, for hygiene reasons, to lose the pubic hair I was now sprouting in abundance. She smiled as she said this and I was so enthralled by her slippery fingers coating my genitals I put up no resistance and murmured my agreement. I wasn’t really thinking just happy in the moment as my lower body enjoyed a sensation it had never experienced before. I know some of the boys at school had ‘experimented’ in such a way but I suppose my fierce and unfriendly attitude had precluded me from such ‘games’. Once she had finished I was sporting a boner which she just flicked, smiled and mumbled something about “Oh you boys” before pulling up my white trunks. I was a little sad it ended there and then a sudden feeling of horror rippled through my body as I thought how disgusting I must be to have thought my auntie was going to ‘finish me off’. I could see and feel my entire body glow with the red of shame. However, auntie seemed unconcerned about my sordid body and handed me a pair of soft khaki cotton twill shorts and a white t-shirt. I was so ashamed I hurriedly pulled up the shorts and got myself in a tangle as I tried to put my head through the arm hole of my t-shirt. To say I was embarrassed would be the least I was feeling but auntie checked me out and said what a smart boy I was and suggested she show me the Rainbow Rooms Nursery, which wasn’t very far away. # The shorts I wore was a pair that I’d stopped wearing because I thought they were too short but, with the sun bearing down, I appreciated that auntie had given me a chance against the heat. Besides that, I really wanted to get my legs a better colour than the pale white pallid hue they’d become thanks to the British climate. We walked less than two hundred yards down the road and around a corner to auntie’s business. The Rainbow Rooms Nursery was in a low, single story building, which had been specially constructed for Auntie Joan quite a number of years earlier and had become something of a mainstay and useful edition to the facilities of the area. Auntie told me that she was always busy and could have expanded to twice the size and still filled the place had she wanted to. However, building regulations and practicalities meant she knew what was manageable and liked what she had. Kids she’d looked after before were now bringing their children for her to look after and liked the friendliness and continuity she was able to offer. Because it was the weekend there were no children in the place and as she showed me around I began to get that same feeling I’d had when I first went into the bedroom nursery, a feeling of calm and pleasure. It had the same atmosphere of sweet smelling powder and… babies. There were shelves of books, activity areas, toys nicely stacked in huge clear boxes or hanging on the walls held together by nets. Bigger toys, which the kids could ride, were dotted around the main room, whilst the walls were decorated with the alphabet, numbers and joyful furry animals with balloons of speech coming out of their mouths. “Be nice”, “Think of others”, “Have fun”, “Joey the Giraffe says: Let’s grow together” and other such sweet sayings. In my head I could almost ‘see’ the children playing and wondered if their carefree essence now permeated the entire building? In another, quiet room, there were a host of little mats laid out on the floor for after lunch naptime. Again I almost caught myself curling up and settling down for an afternoon nap, well, in my mind at least. # Auntie said that the number of kids who wet themselves when they were napping is incredible so they were always at their busiest straight after they had all woken up. The queue for a diaper change was long but efficiently handled by her and the staff. She smiled as she showed me the changing area with its piles of diapers and stuff, not dissimilar to the one back home in the third bedroom. Outside there were other activities like a Jungle Gym with slides and climbing frames, swings and all manner of fun things for kids to enjoy. There were toys and objects available for smaller kids, babies, who could sit in a huge playpen and safely play away from the older, more energetic, members of the group. I was impressed. The whole ambience of the place was uplifting and I could see why auntie had chosen this as her business. I couldn’t think of anything more rewarding than to watch and encourage little kids to play and grow, have fun and enjoy life. God how I wished I could have had all that. # From ‘The Rainbow’ we picked up auntie’s car and drove into town where she showed me around. The centre wasn’t massive but seemed nice and to have all the stores, restaurants and other necessities a place this size needed. We parked up and went for lunch in the main mall. I was surprised just how well known auntie was. Almost everyone nodded and smiled as we passed. “Hi Miss Marsden” was followed by a nervous giggle from both boys and girls, whilst “Good Morning Joan” was followed by a little bit of gossip from the grown-ups. I was introduced to a few of her friends but without the history lesson, I didn’t want them to feel sorry for the poor kid who’d just lost his parents to terrorists. As it was she introduced me as her nephew who was now living with her but without any further explanation. That left a few people with bemused looks on their faces and you could see they desperately wanted to know more about this ‘mysterious youth’. I think auntie was enjoying keeping the full story to herself and watching the features on some straining for more facts. # We had, what I can honestly say, was the best pizza I’d ever had. In the UK I was never overly happy with what they described as pizza, and although I loved the ones our cook in DC made, this was by far superior. I was delighted to sit in that air-conditioned paradise and stuff my face, whilst sucking up gallons of soda, until my belly felt fit to burst. Auntie Joan gave the impression she was pleased that I’d got at least some of my appetite back and encouraged me to finish off with a huge ice cream sundae. I was in heaven. After lunch, as we walked around, I appreciated even more the lightweight outfit that auntie had chosen for me to wear. It felt nice as air circulated with each step, which gave a very pleasant feeling around my groin. We went to a store to buy new bedding for my ‘proper’ room but for some reason all the styles I liked were particularly childish. Auntie didn’t seem perturbed by my choice. “It’s you who’ll be sleeping in them so… the choice is yours.” She wasn’t that bothered either when I chose a particular fleecy looking blanket that, in my mind at least, I hoped would settle me down on a night as I hugged something so soft and gentle. She did point out that we had plenty of similar items already back at the house but understood why I might want my own. # We went to a couple of clothes stores because she thought I might need a completely different set of fashionable items to fit in with the ‘locals’ and to suit the extreme weather. However, I’d stupidly been holding in my desperate desire for a pee. My bloated bladder was calling out for release but I held on hoping that I could last until we finished shopping before I needed to go. Alas, a sudden pain shot from my bladder to the end of my dripping cock and forced me to rush off to find a toilet. Unfortunately, it was out of order, and the one thing I was keen to avoid in public… happened. What started as a small dark stain suddenly erupted into a huge ever-growing splurge as I couldn’t control the flow. My CK trunks did the best they could but they were no defence from the torrent that suddenly decided to gush forth. I was both embarrassed and terrified as I bent over to try and hide the developing accident and the yellowing trickle down my legs and onto the floor. Thankfully, auntie saw the situation arising so was already guiding me out to the car and soon we were safely on our way home. I could hardly speak I was so humiliated at what had happened and just hoped that I hadn’t shamed auntie. She seemed completely unconcerned about the fact that I’d wet myself but more bothered about my feelings. ‘Was I OK?’ ‘I wasn’t to worry; we’d soon be home where she’d sort me out.’ I was in tears. I felt guilty about sitting on her car seats, the front of my khaki shorts now dark and damp, but she told me I shouldn’t worry it was easy to wipe clean. As my blubbing quietened I simply felt uncomfortable (and stupid) wearing my soaked pants. At the back of my mind I couldn’t help but think that this wouldn’t have happened if I’d worn a diaper, or if it had, I wouldn’t look like I did… a big wet baby. Once home I quickly ran upstairs casting off my wet pants as I went and threw myself down on the Disney bed feeling self-conscious and silly. However, auntie came in and applied baby wipes to clean me up. The sweet scent filling my nostrils and making me feel at peace again. Once more she offered me a choice of briefs or diaper. This time I accepted the diaper. She powdered and taped me tightly in and then without asking slipped up a pair of thick blue vinyl pants to keep it all contained. She then disappeared into my room and returned with my navy blue shorts and guided me into them. It wasn’t that I was too numb to do this for myself it was just nice that auntie was there to help. # Part 3 When she’d finished her ministrations and I tentatively got up, the feeling of my crotch wrapped in a fresh, clean and dry set of padding was so much nicer. The soft bulk seemed so natural and auntie said I looked a lot happier. I was but didn’t know that my pleasure could actually be seen. For the rest of the day I sat out in the garden letting the sun toast my legs, enjoying the attention of auntie (she continually applied sun-screen) as we sat and talked about everything. I asked her for information on the school here in town, which I assumed I’d be attending, but she was surprisingly noncommittal about it. She said there were various forms but as yet had not sent them in so I didn’t have a school for the time being. I wasn’t sure if I should be pleased or not but auntie pointed out that I’d been through a very traumatic experience and she at least thought I needed some time to heal. The forms would be filled out when she thought I was ready and not before. There she was again thinking of what I might need and giving me time to sort things out for myself. # Auntie was very definite about some things, one of which was that I shouldn’t worry about using the diaper for what it’s designed for – pee and poop. I laughingly said I couldn’t imagine wanting to do either, although I had peed without knowing I was doing so. However, she said that if I did, it didn’t matter, just let her know when and she’d change me. Part of me was horror struck at the very idea of pooping my pants, at my age it was a definite no-no and something I’d never done even at school; that would have been just too gross even for my touch of the rebel. “Doodle’s pissed his bed… again.” Or a chorus of “He’s my Yankee Doodle Peepants” sang to that wonderful show tune, which never got boring… yeah, right. Those mocking voices of my school colleagues never really got to me because they were never said with any venom, just resigned acceptance. I obviously wasn’t the only bed-wetter in the place, as classy as it was. In spite of this, and for some strange reason I wasn’t aware of, I was pleased that at least for auntie it wasn’t a problem. I suppose because she dealt with little kids in diapers all day, the thought of poop and pee was of no consequence, no matter who it came from. I didn’t want to poop but considered that, as I was now wearing a diaper and plastic pants, perhaps getting to a toilet and taking the thing off, might be more of a problem than just doing it. I giggled to myself at that very thought. # As I was thinking about this the sensation of a little spurt of pee warmed my diaper and it felt nice. A moment later, and again what started as a little dribble, turned into a full surge. I went very quiet as my bladder emptied itself into my comfy diaper and thought I could tell that auntie knew just what had happened. It was a weird sensation and I don’t just mean the warming of my crotch. No, there was a definite shiver of, er, something, sorry, I’m not expressing this very well but… when I peed myself my body seemed to be ‘happy’ about it. I wasn’t horrified, I wasn’t ashamed, I didn’t immediately excuse myself, I, I… I didn’t do anything except happily sit in my flooded diaper. Something else happened, I liked the slight rustling from the plastic pants as I shifted somewhat so that the pee could get absorbed more evenly by the disposable. It was as if I was helping my diaper do its work. Weird eh? # We carried on talking and after a few minutes, when I thought I’d managed to get through it without her realising after all; she informed me that I should probably have a change as sitting around in such dampness would cause problems later on. She asked me to come up to the bathroom in a few minutes and went off to do whatever it was she wanted to do. I rubbed the front of my shorts and examined the increased volume of the expanded diaper underneath – I found it strangely comforting. The mound made me look particularly sexless and at the same time emphasised my crotch, the thought of the wet diaper and plastic pants giving me a raging stiffy that I hoped to get rid of before I ventured up to see auntie. # The bath was full and she stood by its side armed with a loofah and various lotions and potions. I was surprised to see that the water itself wasn’t filled with bubbles but she helped me out of my clothes and asked me to wait a moment before getting into the bath. I didn’t need any help but she seemed determined to make sure I was safe so guided me through this simplest of tasks. Yes, I can’t deny it, I was enjoying the attention. After years and years of absolutely no familial contact I was obviously going to grasp at what was offered and luxuriate in the care and attention auntie was bestowing on me. At school we were often naked in front of one and other and the regular check-ups from the doctor, sports coaches and the intimate living conditions meant you simply couldn’t be shy around others. Firstly auntie coated my body with a cream that left a glow to every part of my body it touched. She daubed a huge heap of the stuff onto my genitals and smoothed it in making sure every follicle was covered. Again I got that sexual feeling I’d had in the garden but tried to keep it from taking a hold, or stiffening up, whilst auntie was working ‘down there’. “You’re being a very brave little soldier.” She kissed the top of my head, though I wasn’t sure what I was being particularly brave about but thought maybe she was just humouring the situation as she would comfort a small child. It was nice and to be truthful, I felt like a little kid in her hands. She made me feel free to be me, and I was so grateful to be offered such freedom. Meanwhile, she continued to rub more and more lotion around my body and up into my arse crack. That set my cock throbbing and I could also feel something else brewing deep in my balls. The warming balm made everything feel like it was glowing and that piqued and sensitized all my nerve endings. However, before it got too intense she started scrubbing my body down with the loofah and I saw that all my fine hair was coming off with it. Pretty soon she had removed all my hair and my genitals looked like I was a three year-old, except a bit bigger. She sat me down in the water and then sponged the rest of my body to get rid of any excess cream. She shampooed my hair and asked if I’d mind if she cut it a little. I rather liked my long blondish hair but, as she pointed out, I’d probably suffer itchiness from sweating in the sun if I kept it too long. She’d been correct so far so I nodded. As she went off to get the scissors I examined my now hairless pubic area. It felt so soft and smooth and looked rather, special. I rubbed it lightly and the soft silky feel was quite a turn on but I doubted I could masturbate before auntie returned. # Moments later I was right, as she came in with a pair of hair clippers, and got me out of the bath to dry me down. Once I was thoroughly towelled she had me stand on a piece of newspaper as she set about cutting my hair. She was no bespoke hairdresser and styled my hair in the simplest way possible. She just ran the clippers from front to back on a setting that left me with a very short haircut indeed. The buzzing implement making short work of my long locks but in next to no time her task was complete. It was a dramatic change of image but auntie appeared pleased with her work no matter how much of a shock it was to me. Taking a damp sponge she removed any fallen hairs from my now denuded body and led me into the nursery. “Sweetie, I think after today we’ll give your underpants a miss and settle on diapers for the foreseeable future. Is that OK with you?” I was standing naked and she was fussing around my lower region seemingly pulling off stray and loose hairs. My silky cock was showing signs of rearing up again but my mind was begging it to go down I didn’t want auntie to think I was some kind of pervert. “OK sweetheart, it looks like that,” she said gently flicking my cock, “is going to be a bit troublesome for you but, I’ll sort that out tomorrow, in the meantime, let’s get you into your bed time diapers.” It was only around 6pm and I wondered if she was putting me to bed early for some reason. “Is it bed time already?” I asked nervously wondering if I was being punished for wetting in public. “No Dean, it’s just, well, you’re all clean and tidy, so it seems silly dressing you again only to get you ready for bed again later on. Why do a job twice, you’re not planning on going anywhere this evening… er… are you?” She gave me that cute, accusing mock look as if I’d been organising something on my own without discussing it with her first but of course I hadn’t. “Noooo.” I shyly shrugged like a toddler would. “So, that’s settled. I’ll get you ready and then we can spend the rest of the evening not having to worry about a thing as it’s already done.” # Of course auntie made complete sense and as she guided me in to the nursery I noticed the Disney duvet pulled back and ready for me to climb in. I was happy about that, as I didn’t really want to start and build my real bed just yet. I’d had such a wonderful sleep the previous night, so in a way, I was looking forward to sleeping there again. On the floor was set out a plastic changing mat, she said that I’d be too heavy for the one on top of the dresser where she changed the babies in her care, and set against that were a pile of diapers and stuff. Her calming hands were soon covering my entire body in a slick of sweet smelling oil, her slippery fingers taking special notice of my recently sheared pubic area and bottom, where at her soft touch again I got those horny sensations travelling along my cock. Auntie took absolutely no notice and continued smoothing in the mollifying balm. To finish she sprinkled a cloud of even sweeter smelling powder over everything before reaching for a thick fabric diaper. I was intrigued about how she had all this stuff that appeared to fit me so well. “Well, I told you that occasionally we have older boys and girls who come to the nursery.” I nodded that I remembered. “I have to be prepared for most eventualities so I have diapers, plastic pants and various other items in large sizes that I hope would fit a teen boy or girl. As it is, over a number of years I’ve had clothing sent to me for approval from various companies (and grateful parents) so have stacks of old and new items that should cover just about any age group.” She beamed that smile that brought the cross examination to a close, and in truth, it had answered all my queries. # All this had been said as she folded me into a double thick diaper and pulled a pair of nursery print plastic pants up over it all. I was a bit shocked at how childish it looked but before I had an opportunity to complain, she was pulling another cotton onesie, in the same print as the plastic pants, over my head and snapping it together under my crotch. It was very bulky, much bulkier than the previous night’s protection so wriggled about in it to try and get comfortable. The thing was - it was very comfortable - I was just making a show of the fact I was wearing it all. The other ‘problem’ was I actually loved the silliness and juvenile look I was now sporting. In my head I was a happy toddler, what I was wearing was of no importance, what was, the fact I was comfortable and HAPPY. Auntie could tell immediately that I was in a place that I loved. She had read my mind and come up with something that I would never have asked for or knew I desired, yet here I was, ecstatic in my new childish outfit. Even though it was so early I was in two minds whether to crawl straight into bed but auntie had other ideas and we went downstairs for our evening meal in front of the TV. After we’d fed ourselves I cuddled up next to her and we watched some programmes that I can’t remember. What I do remember was the joy I felt as she stroked my hair and patted my bulky bottom. After what felt like a lifetime of anger and frustration I’d eventually found what I hoped for, a family that loved me and a place I wanted to be. It’s so easy to drift off when you’re relaxed and I slipped in and out of sleep as auntie’s warm body and comforting caresses left me feeling utterly content. I don’t know what time I eventually climbed up to bed but, with auntie’s guiding hand, I slipped under the Disney duvet, was given my teddy bear and a feeling of serenity filled my body. I vaguely heard the rail being pulled up and clicked into position but I was so comfortable, and perhaps even in a state of bliss, that within moments I’d slipped into deep sleep. # I woke up and it was Sunday morning. Back in the UK, the entire school had to go to church and I didn’t know if auntie had similar leanings. However, just moments after my bearings had returned she came in like a breath of fresh air and slid down the rail. “Morning poppet.” This was a new term of sweet talk and I wriggled in pure pleasure on hearing it. “I left you to sleep a little longer than usual, you looked like you could do with the extra hours but, there’s no rush for you to get up if you don’t want to.” She looked at me and then around the room. “You can stay and play up here if you want but come down and join me for breakfast when you’re ready.” She was speaking to me as if I was a little kid and I didn’t mind. In fact, I giggled as I bounced teddy on my chest thinking about what exactly I planned to do. She was like a whirlwind as she picked up various little bits and bats off the floor, drew back the blinds, kissed me and teddy as we lay curled up in bed and patted my padded bottom. “We’ll get that sorted after breakfast.” She smiled and was gone leaving me to stretch and wallow in my lovely warm bed. I had this strange thought that all the Disney characters on the covers had encouraged me to a peaceful night’s sleep so I was mentally thanking them all… one by one. # I reached below the duvet to feel the thick wadding and knew I was very wet. Once again I’d been so relaxed as I slept that getting up and going to the bathroom had never occurred to me. Actually, I couldn’t remember even knowing I had to go so, that was new. It hit me that with the rails up I might, in the dark, have trouble finding my way to the bathroom anyway. No sooner had that thought entered my head than it was gone and replaced by the sight of a couple of toys that had been left out. I didn’t know if she’d done it on purpose but there appeared to be a train and racing car next to the diaper pail and their bright colours were beckoning me over. I eased myself up, the thickness of the padding making me roll rather the climb out of bed and over to the two models. I caught sight of myself in the mirror and had forgotten just how short my hair now was. Coupled with the baby print onesie and the enormous padding I looked like the biggest toddler in the world. I was shocked but giggled at my reflection, the plastic pants gripped tightly to the top of my leg and could easily be seen bulging out under the onesie, thankfully it all matched so…? I wasn’t sure ‘so what’ but the fact that it all co-ordinated pleased me as I admired my reflection. I hadn’t had chance to appreciate exactly what I looked like before, but now, well, I was a kid again. Everything about me gave the impression I was a big, incontinent kid. Auntie had given me, visually at least, the opportunity to be a toddler again. A shudder of excitement passed through my body as I deliberately sat down with a squish on my well soaked padded bottom. I spent the next half hour or so pushing the toys around and making various noises not quite believing that I was enjoying playing, and playing on my own. I couldn’t remember ever having done this before, I know I must have at some point but, this just felt like an entirely new experience. Eventually I heard auntie calling breakfast was ready, so I reluctantly left them parked under my bed and slowly shuffled down stairs. # After breakfast she insisted, while she tidied around, and so I wouldn’t get under her feet, I go and play in the garden. I was still wet and dressed in my night time ensemble (see the British education filled me with words I never thought I’d use) and though I felt a bit nervous about doing so, I wondered into the morning air and immediately loved the feeling of being in an open space dressed as I was. The slight breeze caught my hairless legs and it felt cooling, I liked the feeling so much I thought it would be silly to ever have them covered up again. I sat out and relaxed. The birds were singing and it was as if it was the first time I’d ever really listened to birdsong. I could hear other kids playing out in their own gardens. The occasional vehicle drove along the road out front and in the distance a mechanical sound, which I guess was someone mowing their lawn. I’m not sure why but all these sounds gave me the goosebumps as I looked down at my colourful childish onesie. I began to think in terms of what it must be like to discover everything; sights, sounds, experiences, learning to walk, to talk, to recognise your parents, to feel loved. This was not what I expected when Auntie Joan said “Come and live with me” but I really felt like I was undergoing so much for the very first time. I was beginning to appreciate what auntie had said she could offer and as I spread myself in the sun, I wanted to start again. A little while later auntie came out into the garden armed with the changing pad and all the accessories she needed. I was about to experience my first outdoors diaper change and felt a rush of excitement… things were moving on at such a pace. # I sat there in the lawned back garden wearing nothing but a fresh disposable and clear plastic pants. I felt like I just wanted to run around, scream, laugh and play, all of which I’m sure would have been OK but I detected that auntie wanted a more serious chat. As always she could see that I was in my element but she had doubts. “Dean, it’s very important to me that you are happy.” I smiled in acknowledgement because I already was. “But I don’t want you thinking you have to please me… because you don’t.” I shivered a little bit confused she looked a bit serious. “Don’t you like me dressed like…” I stroked over the silky, glossy mound of my plastic pants. “Of course sweetheart, I want you to be you more than anything else… but what I want has to be the same as what you want. I’d hate to take you down a path you weren’t happy about.” “Well auntie, what do you want?” Her serious face melted a little and a smile appeared. “You are already giving me so much, even after such a short time together I feel much rejuvenated.” “Aaannnddd?” I queried in a childish drawn out way. She took a deep breath. “I won’t lie to you Dean,” She was thinking, her eyes sort of drifted off into a slightly different realm as she spoke. “But in my imagination you are a sweet little toddler taking their first independent steps.” She interrupted herself. “Not that I don’t like you just as you are.” I nodded and it was as if I’d given her permission to carry on with her fantasy. “But… I like you in a diaper. I love dressing you in your protection. I even enjoyed the fact that you wet yourself at the mall…” She obviously hoped this wasn’t something too far. “Not that I wanted to embarrass you, or you to be embarrassed, it was just the thought I needed to protect my sweet baby boy. That he… you… needed me to make things better.” I gave her one of my coy little looks, which I’m sure was pathetic but I wanted her to know I appreciated all she did for me. “I see an opportunity to let you have something you’ve told me you never had, a proper childhood. I watch your reaction when you are around even the most juvenile things and I see an urge to be involved. I noticed at Rainbow. I noticed it in the nursery…” She indicated the house behind her. “I noticed how happy you are to be in a diaper and dressed as a toddler, all of which I love you for because, I have to admit it, you look so damn cute... and ... more importantly, you look contented.” She smiled and I wondered over to her. She patted my bulging bottom as we hugged each other tightly. She carried on but in a much dreamier voice. “I want a boy who wants nothing more than to play and enjoy life, a boy free of any grown-up thoughts or worries, a boy who wants nothing more than to scream and charge around with other kids his age and build forts, live in his imagination and not worry about anything else. A young boy should not have any grown up worries and should only see his life through his own eyes, not blinkered by parents who try and guide him to their destination.” I felt her words gathering in my chest. It was a strange sensation; several different emotions welled up inside, each competing with one another. One moment it was awful, then not too bad, then confusing, eventually any bad thoughts disappeared and I was elated when I whispered in her ear. “I’ll be your little boy. I’ll be the best little boy ever.” I saw her face beam with pride. We cuddled in the garden, in the morning sun for quite a while as she simply stroked my padded bottom and kissed my head. “OK… if you’re sure.” # Part 4 Monday morning and I was nervous. It was to be my first day at Rainbow Rooms and, as Auntie had pointed out the day before; I would be treated just like all the other kids. I would dress the same, I would eat the same, I’d play the same and I would nap when told to. I was not going to get any special privileges except, at the end of the day, I’d be returning home with auntie. # We’d spent an awful lot of Sunday chatting and I discovered a great deal about my parents that I never knew. Like, for instance, they had met at university and both had been Math Majors, apparently, they fell for each other over a discussion on Calculous. This meant nothing to me accept auntie informed me that they married early and tried, as soon as Uni finished, having a family. Alas, they were thwarted in their efforts and ended up immersing themselves in their careers, which were both spiralling to greatness in their chosen fields. As it turned out, dad became a government analyst, whilst mother was headhunted for her code-breaking research, so both ended up working in the same ‘state’ department in the capital. Both mom and dad stopped discussing their work with family and were often away on special assignments around the globe. Then, as an unexpected career-ender, I came on the scene. I was such a surprise that mom never even knew she was expecting until two months before I arrived. To say I was a shock to my parents system was a bit of an understatement and although they appeared on the surface to be incredibly happy at this ‘wonderful’ event, I arrived at the wrong time in their lives. According to auntie both of them tried to be good parents but such were the demands on them and their specialised knowledge, they shoved me off for others to look after. “Your parents were both incredibly clever,” she said this as if, in some way, she was proud of their achievements. “Alas, I’m afraid their parenting skills had left them completely by the time you were almost out of diapers. However, they wanted what they thought was best for you, even if they couldn’t actually be there to make it happen, so… you were handed over to people they thought could bring you up better.” I wanted to interrupt. I wanted desperately to ask why she hadn’t taken me in; I never gave it any thought that perhaps she had her own ambitions that didn’t include me. “Education, learning, achieving… these were your father’s edicts on life in general.” She looked a bit sorrowful at me and to be honest I was feeling more than a bit sorry for myself as she continued. “What it was like to be a parent completely passed them by… and to be honest, from the little we could glean from their hectic lives, the government needed their abilities more and more. So, they sent you off to where they thought you’d be best educated and I presume, because of their increasingly important work, safe.” I know auntie wasn’t trying to be unkind but I felt like I was a burden to my parents and found that upsetting. Knowing I was the problem and not my illustrious parents was not what a thirteen year-old boy can quite grasp and I was feeling very sick in my stomach at the thought. I felt hopeless, useless and I wept not knowing what or who the tears were for, my head found it hard to cope. That Sunday was a complete and utter revelation. However, as I listened (and sobbed) at least I gained more info about my parents in those few hours than I had in the rest of my life. # She also showed me photographs of her and my Uncle Bill, who I didn’t remember at all, and the glass trophy they had won for their dancing. Apparently they had met twenty years ago just as auntie was building The Rainbow Rooms Nursery. He had been an odd-job man and there to put the finishing touches to the building; painting, plastering, doing any of the little bits of carpentry that were left. She had been entranced by his easy going and affable nature, the fact that he looked great in his overalls also had a big say in her pursuing him. They had struck up a conversation, found they both enjoyed dancing and in what appeared to have been a whirlwind romance, were married within six-months. He continued his odd-job work, she saw her nursery flourish, which he thought was amazing as he loved children as much as his wife, and they lived happily ever after. Well not quite. It was strange as I looked in her album and saw all the happy photos of this rather handsome man I felt I’d missed out on so much again. What would it have been like to have a family, a family who loved me, a family who was there? My eyes filled up and I began to softly weep, which set auntie off and between us we hugged each other in comfort. However, every time auntie patted my padded bottom I knew all was now well and I was secure; the soft rustling of my plastic pants a gentle reminder of that rather basic fact. # At around 6.30am auntie had come into the nursery to wake me up for my first real Rainbow day. My night had been filled with confusing dreams of my parents, except Auntie Joan and Uncle Bill were them, my real mom and dad were just passing people who appeared to have very little to do with me… apart from wave from a distance. I know at one point I got pretty anxious and shrieked out because I noted that in the morning I was hugging a teddy bear, which hadn’t been with me at the start of the night. It was extraordinary, after I’d screamed, although I can’t remember if it was in fear for something to do with me or terror about someone else, a voice calmed me, telling me everything was going to alright, not to worry and go back to sleep. In my dream a teddy was placed in my outstretched arms and I loved the feel of his soft fur against my skin. The effect was instant. Everything was just as the disembodied voice had said, I was snuggly and relaxed and had my teddy for security. “How is my best little boy this morning?” She beamed as she moved around, dropped down the rails and pulled back my duvet. I was grinning in happiness at being called her ‘best little boy’. All this sweet talk and cheeriness was having an impact on the way I woke up; excited and in high spirits. “I see my little boy had a fright in the night,” she felt down my diaper, “let’s get you washed and changed as you have a big new day today.” # The fact that my thick night time fabric diaper was absolutely sodden was taken for granted - no big deal because the rest of the bed was bone dry. Although when at school I had wet the bed only occasionally, since the funeral it had become a nightly thing. I was grateful for the nappy, I didn’t like waking up to a soaked bed and it made me feel better knowing I hadn’t wet anything other than myself. She popped the studs on the onesie, pulled off my plastic protection and unpinned the diaper, helped me out of bed and patted my bottom towards the bathroom. “Everything thoroughly washed and dried,” she said ruffling my short hair and gently slapping my bum once more in fun. I was naked and toddled off to shower myself for what promised to be the start of an exhilarating day. Showering appeared to be the only grown up act that I was allowed to do for myself because when I returned, everything was laid out and ready for the day ahead. Auntie inspected that I was dry and wiped any areas that I’d missed. She oiled and lotioned my entire body making sure that no rash or roughness had appeared on my delicate, newly exfoliated skin. Once again my penis began to get engorged but auntie quickly powdered and applied a very thick soaker pad to my fresh clean disposable and taped it into place. This made access to my genitals almost impossible so I wouldn’t be seeking relief anytime soon. This time the diaper was covered in a pair of white rubber pants that gripped the top of my legs and waist tightly but added a slick, shiny look to my outfit. I had loved the nursery print pants I’d worn previously, and when we were alone I hoped to do so again, but I was glad that auntie had gone with a more neutral, if bulkier, look for my first day. She’d found a loose fitting blue and green striped t-shirt from one of my unopened crates in the other bedroom and a pair of elasticated shorts, which hung loosely around my hips, from somewhere else. They didn’t hide my protection but at least they didn’t emphasise it either. I slipped into a pair of blue trainers to complete the first day in my ‘Rainbow Rooms Nursery Collection’. # I knew that Rainbow operated from 7.30am to 4.00pm and as it was now 7.35 realised that she was letting a few more of the usual kids get there first before I was introduced to them all. She had called Julie, her No. 2, the day before to explain that I’d be attending and that we’d be in about 8am. She also told her my age but said that owing to the tragedy that had recently befallen me, I was really not able to deal with any situation a boy my age would normally be expected to be able to cope with. This gave her the perfect excuse to introduce me to the other children as someone who was just like them, the staff already being pre-informed of my ‘problem’. As I finished my breakfast cereal auntie was on the phone making arrangements for later that day. “Hello Gordon.” She listened for the reply. “Yes it is… pause… Yes I’m back… pause… I have some jobs for you and Colin if you are available?” She walked through to the den to finish her call and I could no longer hear what was being said. However, I’d found a new thing to occupy myself with; my slippery bottom and loose fitting shorts made an ideal padded, rustling sound as I slid against the chair. It felt funny, and sounded funny, and I was really quite absorbed in the strange sensations it created as I wriggled more and more in my seat. I was enjoying the completely silly experience of being silly and making a noise just because I found it entertaining. I didn’t realise that auntie had finished her call and was smiling as I bounced around making strange noises thanks to my padded bottom, rubber pants and slippery chair. # As we walked the short distance from the house to the nursery (auntie had told me she liked that term better than kindergarten or crèche) I was nervous. Nervous of being out where people could see me dressed as I was, happy that I was dressed as I was, loving the warm morning air as it swirled around my bare legs and incredibly happy that I was holding auntie’s hand as she led me into the reception area of her business. All the small faces looked up for a few seconds and then got back to whatever they were doing. Obviously, seeing a taller toddler around the place was nothing new but the staff was quick to welcome me and feel part of the session. Auntie had advised me to take my time to get involved. She pointed out that as a thirteen year-old my language skills were way ahead of the toddlers so, to listen and get their speech patterns, listen to how they describe or ask for things and then do things at their level, otherwise she said laughing, “They’ll think you’re just another member of staff.” As usual, auntie made sense and I watched for a while. All the staff were engrossed with the children; there were four under 12 months, babies really, but the rest were from two and a half up to five years old. It was fascinating watching what they did and how they went about it but Molly and William came and grabbed me and wanted to play - they were sort of the toddler welcoming committee. # I got down on all-fours and followed them to a play area which had huge cubes and shapes made out of colourful plastic backed foam. We set about creating a building of some description (and to Molly’s design) and had a great deal of fun watching the towers we built fall on top of us. There was a lot of laughter and squealing with delight involved. My shorts rode up over the glossy white cushioned diaper so it could be clearly seen by anyone who might be interested I was just as padded as some of the other kids. Actually, there were about half who looked protected and others who’d made the grade to potty training, so wore normal underwear. However, Molly and William and a couple more of their friends were definitely like me because at one point I had two of them sitting on my tummy, another balancing on my knees and Molly’s little padded bottom wriggling on my head. I’m not sure how to describe the sensation of having a plastic clad, damp and diapered little bum rubbing itself, with not a care in the world, into your face but it was quite overwhelming. The other diapered kids were equally unrestrained as they bound around and bounced up and down on my own well-protected and padded groin. Occasionally one of the staff might ask if one of the boy’s or girl’s particularly droopy nappy (that’s my English education coming out again - ‘nappy’?) might need changing and if so, they were whisked over to the diaper station and quickly attended to. # Well into the morning and I was having fun. We stopped and sat around in a circle having milk and cookies whilst one of the interns, a pretty girl of about seventeen, read us all a story. Some of the kids drank their milk from Sippy cups or a baby’s bottle; although some were more than keen to show off they were grown up and didn’t need such childish things. I was given a Sippy cup like Molly and William for my milk and I couldn’t have been happier. The cookies were sweet, crumbly and definitely yummy. My nappy was damp but I didn’t know if it was from sweating with all the running about or, if in my excitement, I’d let loose a flow. However, when a hand pulled at my shorts and felt down the front, I was led off by one of the main staff to be changed. I wondered if auntie would come and sort me out but it was left to the hand-owner to strip me down, wipe me clean, spread some cream around, powder and eventually slip me into a fresh clean disposable then back into my white rubber pants. She then smiled, patted my dry padded bottom and said I could go back to play with my friends. # It was amazing! I wasn’t treated any differently to the other diaper wearing pre-schoolers. I was worried that my ‘emotions’ would mean I’d have a difficult time containing my excitement and that my de-pubed genitals might react. However, they were ignored, pushed to one side and the job of making sure I was sanitary and tidy was the obvious priority… it was almost as if I didn’t have a penis at all. When diapered, and the bulge in my shorts seemed to accentuate my groin, I loved the fact that it didn’t allow access. Despite the fact that all this protection had become a major influence on my moment to moment existence, the potty was definitely out of the question and all my instinctive actions were that I could and should use my nappy. The urges that normally lingered ‘down below’, were of little to no importance. # Screaming in delight as we ran around the garden (I on all fours), flitting from one shaded area to the next, all of us in bare feet enjoying the tickle of grass between our toes, we spoke in very childish terms. They asked how old I was but I said I didn’t know though hoped I was the same age as them as they were my new friends. They liked that answer because both William and Thomas cuddled me. These little padded kiddies, with no ulterior motive, hugged and patted me as if I was a new found pet and that was simply wonderful. I felt accepted, so when Molly, Elizabeth and Corey, with whom I’d also been playing did the same… I was in my element. Most of the nappy wearers smelled slightly of pee and poo and I wondered how long before I did… or did I already? # After lunch, ‘quiet time’ was announced so we all toddled to a little mat and lay out. It was too hot to need a blanket but I thought no one would be able to fall asleep after such an exciting morning. I was wrong. Not only did the blinds at the windows make the room nice and dark, there was a lilting piece of atmospheric music gently playing in the background, which appeared to push all other thoughts from the mind and let you quickly settle down. To my complete surprise I woke up with all the others about 45 minutes later. My other surprise, I was completely soaked and joined the queue to be changed. This time it was one of the interns, a nice, softly spoken Irish girl called Gwen who had the honour of cleaning me up. She, like the rest of the staff, was quick and efficient and I was soon back, lying on my tummy crayoning with a few other kids. Normally I’m reasonably OK with art projects but on this occasion I let Molly and another quietly spoken and nervous-looking girl called Beatrice help me choose each colour I should use. Beatrice was wearing a cute little tutu style dress with her thick padding in matching pink plastic heavily on show. She decided to sit on my padded bottom to watch what I did and make noises of approval; well I hoped that’s what they were. Eventually she got up and wondered round to my head and I could see her diaper was hanging even more heavily than before and she had more than a faint odour of poo. Two seconds later and Doreen, one of the main staff, saw he sagging diaper and whisked her off with a smile and jolly words about being a lovely princess who should meet the ‘diaper fairy’. # Four pm came around far too quickly. Parents started to arrive and collect their offspring and there was a lot of chatting and discussion about… well… what do parents talk about? For once, I wasn’t really all that interested. It could have been about the cost of living, some political furore or me, I just did not care. I’d spent the best part of the day in nothing but play and I felt brilliant. I was only saddened that it had come to an end so soon but that feeling of despair soon was turned into one of elation as I realised that I’d be doing it all over again the following day. Being a tot was certainly a lot of highs and lows in pretty quick succession but I loved it. I’d played, made new friends, been changed, made more new friends, screamed, squealed, charged around, napped, ate and wet myself and I wanted more of it all. As a thirteen (almost fourteen) year-old this was absolutely the most fun I’d ever had and it topped my computer games as a way of entertainment, like a million to one. Other than at the start of the morning I hadn’t seen much of auntie. I suppose she was busy organising, arranging and doing what principals do but I know she kept an eye on everything that was happening. When a little later, after all the other kids had been picked up and she offered me her hand saying, “Let’s go”, I felt like I’d just had the best day of my life and I couldn’t stop squeezing her hand and thanking her for giving me so much. # Once we arrived back at 46 Glendew Lane I could see a young man just packing up a truck, it had GorCol Services written on the side and in script underneath, No job too small. “Good afternoon Mrs Marsden, hope your day was fine?” “Yes, thank you Gordon, hope all the little jobs weren’t too much for you and Colin?” She asked with a smile. “No ma-am, we can come back tomorrow to give it all another coat of paint… if that’s OK with you… meanwhile, I think Colin is just finishing off upstairs. He’ll be down in a minute.” “Fantastic, you boys certainly work hard… and fast, tomorrow will be fine but…” and she pushed me forward to meet this tall, blond-haired twenty something man, “this is Dean my nephew, and the reason for all the changes, he’ll be living here from now on.” He reached out his large firm hand. “Pleased to meet you Dean, your aunt is a fine lady…” Whilst holding on to my rather juvenile handshake he looked me up and down, obviously taking in my bulky diaper and childish clothes. For the first time that day I felt uneasy under his gaze and wanted to hide just what I was wearing. “…seems like you’ll fit in just fine around here.” The smile was one of shear friendliness and my initial reserves disappeared as an equally good-looking young man joined him in his greeting. Gordon introduced him. “Dean, this is my brother Colin.” He also shook my hand and nodded an acknowledgement but I could see he was as reticent as I was on this first meeting. They climbed into the cab of their truck and, waving to us both, said they would be back in the morning to finish things off. “Come inside,” auntie said, “I’ll tell you who they are over some food … you must be famished… you’ve never stopped all day. # “Gordon and Colin Hudson were two boys your Uncle Bill took under his wing when they were kids.” I munched down on the pie auntie had supplied, fresh from the oven, together with mashed potatoes and veg. I don’t know how she knew it but had also made thick onion gravy, which I got a taste for back in the UK. I was half expecting to be eating baby food but this was wonderful and in between mouthfuls, she continued with whom these men were and what they did. “They were just ten and eleven year-old, Gordon being the eldest, when they came to Bill’s attention as a couple of hooligans. Their parents had split up, dad was a drunk and they were left to fend for themselves.” I continued tucking into my meal as she smiled at the memory. “Somewhere in the course of their loutish behaviour they smashed down some doors at a property where Bill was working but he caught them.” She could tell I was engrossed. “He gave them the option of him calling the police, after which they would no doubt be spending time in a kid’s detention home, where they might possibly be split up, or they could help him repair the damage they’d done. Colin, the youngest started to cry at the very thought of not having his brother around so they reluctantly agreed to help.” She looked at me as if revealing a huge secret. “Bill discovered, that even at that young age, they had incredible carpentry skills. They fixed the damage and continued to help Bill on a few of his projects. Colin had problems when alone but as long as his brother was around he’d be fine. So, we ended up occasionally giving them refuge if their father was on one of his benders but all-in-all encouraged them to develop their talents.” She went into slightly more detail but was smiling all the way through remembering the impact that Bill had on all their lives. How easy going, non-judgemental and positive he was. Gordon and Colin were his legacy. “They have become one of the most reliable little firms in the area, and, are my number one guys to go to if I ever need anything doing.” I was smiling because she was smiling but it did make me wish that I’d known Uncle Bill, he seemed a genuinely nice guy. I wriggled in my damp diaper as she finished what she was saying and I swallowed the last piece of pie. I knew I was wet but seemed to just let it flow at the table without even thinking about it. I wasn’t sure if I should feel guilty or not but, well, it happened. She looked over at me as I thanked her for the lovely meal and put her head to one side. “Sweetie… are you messy… or just wet?” It was as if I had no secrets or maybe the pleasure of a soaked diaper was just so apparent. However I nodded. “Just, er, a little, erm, wet.” So auntie held out her hand and led me upstairs. # My bedroom door was closed and had a sign that proclaimed WET PAINT. Meanwhile, the nursery door was open and I noticed there’d been a few changes in there as well. “I’ve had the crib taken into my room.” Auntie confirmed. “Meanwhile, as you can see the bed you’ve been sleeping in has been moved over… I’m not sure it is all that comfortable for you as you are growing all the time…” “No it’s perfect. I really like it.” I interrupted suddenly panicking in case I was going to be forced into the other room now. “As you can see, I’ve had another bed installed, with your choice of covers and the fleece you wanted, which I hope will be slightly more comfortable for you.” The room looked terrific. The dresser had been made higher, the shelves of all the diapers and stuff were also raised. Everything looked tidier and the two beds looked fit for a couple of sweet toddlers to have a great night’s sleep in. There was even a rubber mat with play areas and characters marked out all over it, any kid would enjoy. It looked ideal for where a toddler, or someone like me, could have a really good time. At the side of that was a huge box with the word TOYS stencilled across it and hanging off the rails above the diaper station were a selection of colourful plastic and rubber pants. I checked in the closet and a whole new bunch of onesies, sleep suits and toddler clothes were all hanging ready for… me. “Ohh auntie.” I cried “It looks wonderful.” I hugged her and she hugged me back. “This is now your room, although, should you have a sleepover, or I have to babysit, you will be sharing this with any guest… understand?” I nodded enthusiastically taking in the simple wonders that auntie had produced, well, Gordon and Colin I presumed had produced. The entire nursery just felt even more special and I could feel myself shaking in happiness that I had somewhere like this. “What’s happening in the other room?” I innocently asked. “Well, this is something we have to think about. You see, eventually you will have to go to school.” I could feel the tears building desperately not wanting that to happen after my first day at Rainbow. “Dean, I have to face facts. At some point the Education Department is going to start asking questions about why you’re not in school. Don’t worry, I shall keep them wondering for as long as I can but, it is inevitable that it will happen.” My eyes misted over thinking about all I currently had, gone. “Dean.” She took me by the shoulders so I was facing her as she explained further. “This other room is going to be for a boy of your real age; your clothes, computer, everything that a boy your age needs will be there as you grow. There will be times when you are at the next stage in your education that you won’t want to be a toddler, you’ll want to be a teenager, you’ll want other things and they’ll become important to you.” I didn’t want responsibilities but I knew that, unfortunately, as always, auntie was probably correct. I’d just gotten used to my diaper and all the other stuff that made me feel, well, protected and like a child again. I’d loved these feelings of unabashed childishness - the liberty to act like a little kid and love every minute of it. To discover such simple and basic pleasures of having no stress because others took charge and made the decisions. My entire body left to enjoy the fun of play and not have to compete or meet anybody else’s expectations. As I sadly thought all this I felt the slow, warming at the front of my diaper. # To be continued… Part 5 There is something about being in a thick diaper. You walk differently. Yes, a waddle of course but something else, the thicker padding causes an amble that makes you feel… ‘toddlersome’. With the extra fabric I sense, with each step, my legs being slightly forced apart, my hips swing more and I have to ‘shake’ every now and then to un-bunch the folds of material. It isn’t a big movement but one that makes me feel, well, makes me feel my diaper is an important part of me. Now I’m getting used to the warm, wet and satisfying feeling of peeing in it… I like it even more. # Auntie Joan was continuing her thoughts about the rooms. “But, for as long as you want and desire your childhood, we have this room as well.” Her hand swept over the improved nursery. “You choose where you want to sleep and how…” My warm diaper had transformed me to a three year-old and my mind wandered. I wriggled in the wet delight and looked over at the piles of diapers at the change station hoping I’d get to wear them all before I had to go back to being a ‘big boy’. The very thought of being anything but what I now was I found frightening. I loved being auntie’s ‘good little boy’, I felt at my most comfortable when I was well-padded and now I’d learned how to have fun, I was in no hurry to return to a school of my peers; Molly, William and the others back at Rainbow were now my peers. I’d only just promised auntie I’d be her ‘little boy’ and now that I was, I would do anything to stay that way. I instinctively knew that she wouldn’t want me to change, that any change would be forced on her by government rules. I just hoped that she would delay the inevitable for as long as possible. I wanted my diaper, I wanted my short shorts, I wanted colourful and juvenile clothes, cartoons, lullabies, mad bursts of energy followed by naps. I wanted to hold hands when we went out, I wanted to know that crying wasn’t seen as a sissy thing to do but what was expected from a child with limited vocabulary. I wanted to be loved as you would and should love a toddler. With Auntie Joan I got that and more… and I wasn’t going to give it up if I could help it. # I was sitting in the bubble-filled bath feeling a bit sad but auntie was kneeling by the side and encouraging me to play with a couple of toy boats she’d added. I half-heartedly sailed them around. “Dean, sweetie, I want you to be a happy little boy for as long as possible.” She squeezed the sponge over my head and the resulting warm cascade was very soothing. “We have to face up to the fact that things change and I want it so… well… it isn’t a trauma when it happens. However, I don’t want my best little boy to worry. It’s going to be a while before any changes happen and…” She stroked my short wet hair and looked me in the eye. “There’s nothing to stop you being a little boy when you come home from big boy school now is there?” She looked at me to see if there was a happy response in my eyes but at that moment I just sighed and shrugged and let auntie continue bathing me. Once finished and dried I was again made ready for bed. The oil she spread over my body, and the obvious pleasure she got from making sure it was thoroughly rubbed in, made me smile. She was doing her best and I was coming round to accepting that we had started on a ‘relationship’ that neither of us really knew where or when it would end. I didn’t like these adult thoughts and I hoped they would be my last, but thankfully auntie was going to be there for whatever happened and more importantly, for whatever I needed. # I bucked up as a shower of baby powder covered my lower half and I could see she had already pre-folded my night time diaper. It had the thick pad in place and she deftly slipped it under my bum, lifted up my legs and adding more powder to my bottom and genitals before taking the huge pins and securing me in. This time she snapped me into a thick pair of bright yellow vinyl pants and pulled an equally bright yellow onesie over my head and snapped that into place. “Where is he?” She hid her face behind her hands before quickly reappearing. “There he is.” She was playing the simplest and silliest baby game going and I was giggling. It was a joke because I was laid there in the brightest yellow possible, a beacon of visibility, and no one could have lost me looking like that. She did the same routine a couple more times before I was laughing so much I thought I might pee myself again. Auntie took my hand and helped me to my feet. There it was again, that wonderful, bulky feeling that made me feel so… special. We waddled down stairs together and she sat me on the couch to watch more TV. This time she’d set a DVD going that was really just a parade of childish cartoons, which I loved, because I remembered that a couple of the kids back at Rainbow were wearing some of these characters on their clothes and I didn’t know who they were. # Auntie went off to the kitchen to get some snacks and I settled on my tummy in front of the screen to enjoy what was happening. My bulky front making me wriggle to get comfortable, I could only imagine what I looked like from behind but, I knew auntie (and I) would both approve. She was away about ten minutes but when she returned gone were the cookies and Sippy cup I’d expected, instead was warm milk in a baby’s bottle. Auntie settled on the sofa and then patted the space by her side inviting me to join. I crawled into the crook and she immediately hugged me then turned so that I was on my back but facing her. She hadn’t said anything, just smiled and waited for me to decide if this was something I wanted. I wasn’t sure but I knew it was something else auntie had decided I needed so happily complied. The rubber teat slipped between my lips with ease. Once she was sure I was comfy she tipped the bottle up and let me feed, sucking it down in a rhythm I didn’t know I had (perhaps it’s a natural bodily response to a nipple that never really leaves you). The drink was warm banana and vanilla flavoured milk and wonderful to taste as it slipped gratifyingly down my throat. As she held me close I could feel the warmth of her body radiating the love I so craved. I snuggled deeper into that embrace and as I sucked I felt both small and soothed. There was nothing about this process that I didn’t find enjoyable, especially as she patted and rubbed my padding in time to the rhythm of my nursing. The cartoon on the television was still going but auntie had reduced the sound and hummed a little tune as I finished the milk. I was so relaxed I was almost asleep but auntie still held and gently rocked me as I dozed. Her fingers were softly making patterns on my tummy and occasionally she’d pat out a tempo on my vinyl protection. # I’d dozed so much and come round again that I had no idea of the time as she led me up to my room. This time she drew back the cover on the new bed and invited me to climb in. I really wanted to get into the other, I liked the feeling of security and childishness that the rails offered but, I couldn’t deny it, the new bed, with my choice of covers (colourful cartoon animals) was equally welcoming. I was reluctant of this change at first but climbed in anyway and was immediately engulfed in the new, clean and fresh linen. My bare legs felt the novelty of new sheets and a shiver of cool pleasure ran through my body. She pulled the covers up to my chin and kissed me goodnight. I wondered where my teddy was but auntie just laid the pale blue fleecy blanket I’d chosen in the shop next to my head. Its soft fluffiness tickled my cheek so pulled it in and hugged the fuzzy material close. I can’t explain how wonderful and calming it felt but my mind was suddenly empty of all those earlier awful and worrying thoughts. Now, as I slipped into dreamland, I had never been more snug, cosy or secure. # My tummy was full, my brain was empty and I was in the most wonderful place when auntie turned off the light and wished me “sweet dreams”. I snuggled up to my security blanket and for some reason my thumb found its way between my lips. I suppose the baby’s bottle earlier had got me thinking of sucking on something but I wasn’t even thinking of a reason as I happily suckled my own digit. I woke up late in the night and could barely make out anything in the room. There was hardly any light coming in through the window and auntie had not fitted a nightlight, which I thought I might mention at some point. There were only vague shadows being cast and I could make out the bulky contours of the closet. Strangely, there was one part of the room that did catch what little light there was and I could see the outline of my plastic pants hung on the rail above the changing table. Oddly enough I must have found this reassuring because I soon closed my eyes and drifted back to sleep. However, this time my dream was very different. # Neither auntie or uncle, or mom or dad, made an appearance; instead I was in the woods where I was playing with a green beaver (like the one on my covers). We’d been chasing each other, along with a red deer and purple bird, all over the place; in and out of the dappled leafy glades, through the bracken, over grassy hills and back to the ultra-blue meandering river. However, one of the little streams that flowed into the river was blocked by logs. The beaver said he hadn’t done it but was admiring the natural dam that had clogged its course. Unfortunately, further downstream, the water flow had stopped and large orange fish were distressingly flapping around in the tiny puddles that were left. We knew we had to do something to save them so we all pulled and pushed at the woody obstruction. The beaver was gnawing as quickly as he could, the bird was fluttering around hoping to dislodge any twigs with the beat of its wings, whilst I was straining as I took hold of a large log that seemed stuck and to be causing most of the trouble. I was sweating from the effort. I pulled and pushed, gripped and tugged, twisted and turned and eventually, with a huge, straining heave, I could feel the entire structure begin to give way. Soon the water began to trickle through the gap we’d made, which was rapidly followed by the entire dam disintegrating, releasing the water, the woody obstruction being forced apart and swiftly turning the empty stream into a raging torrent. I suddenly woke up pleased with the success of the mission. The morning sun was already beating at the blinds trying to get in and I was lying in… in… Oh God… what had I done? # The feeling of accomplishment was fleeting as I realised just what had happened. I was in shock. I could smell, as well as feel, the mess that was occupying my night time protection and I didn’t know what to do. I was stunned that my body should betray me in such a way but I had no idea how to deal with it. I didn’t dare move in case I made matters worse. I didn’t dare look in case I’d made a mess all over my new pristine sheets, I was completely horror struck that I’d done something that I couldn’t remember ever having done before. I’m sure as a child it happened but it wasn’t something I recalled but at that moment, I was as helpless as a new-born baby. As I lay there wondering if I should try and waddle to the bathroom auntie bowled in with her usual morning enthusiasm. “Morning sweet…” She obviously detected something was wrong as she pulled back the blinds and opened the window. Even a wonderful sunny Kansas morning couldn’t help the situation. She returned to my bedside and looked down as I squirmed in my shame. “Has my little Poppet had a bit of an accident?” There was no anger in her voice just a question that obviously needed no response from me. She pulled back the covers to reveal my yellow onesie and my burgeoning diaper. I felt guilty, ashamed and scared of my own body. How could it do this? # Auntie was of course immediately reassuring. “Don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll soon have my little chick,” I think she was jokingly referring to my extreme yellow outfit, “all clean and spruced up.” She helped me from my bed. I tentatively moved, desperate not to dislodge anything that was trapped in my diaper, and was relieved to see my plastic protection hadn’t leaked. Auntie guided me over to the new, reinforced and larger padded plastic changing area and had me lay out. I kept saying how sorry I was but she just smiled and got on with the clean-up. She cautiously released the onesie and the vinyl pants snaps, which revealed the fabric diaper looking like it had been through several muddy puddles. It was discoloured and I closed my eyes trying not to think of the horror I supposed was waiting for auntie once she unpinned the soggy thing. “OK Poppet everything is alright. Don’t worry, auntie will see to it.” Her reassurance was constant but the guilt hung heavily, like my diaper. “It’s natural sweetheart. Don’t be upset, even good boys have accidents so don’t let it worry you. I’ll soon have you looking as cute as always.” # The stench was overpowering to me but auntie just rolled up the offending article and put it straight into the waiting pail. Thankfully, the change station was well-equipped for such emergencies and a huge carton of wet wipes suddenly became the centre of my world as she slowly swabbed the mess from my nether region. The damp, menthol-smelling wipes were cool to my skin so came as a bit of a shock as she applied the first one. She could see I was on the verge of tears so her encouragement was most welcome. I’d always assumed that I wouldn’t ever fill my diaper in such a way, that I would be able to control that particular side of my bodily function, but now? The fact it was of no concern to auntie and that, judging by her words and tone, it was just something little boys do, made me less anxious. However, I didn’t really want to watch so closed my eyes and let her get on with what she had to do. She was of course incredibly thorough, bringing in a bowl of warm water and cloth to re-mop the entire area. With all the products and supplies she needed now at a more accessible height; I was daubed in more protecting cream and covered in powder. She then grabbed a couple of disposables and taped me in before finding a large pair of opaque plastic pants to drag over it all. She went to the closet and pulled out a pink and blue onesie that had an aeroplane on the front, which snapped neatly between my legs holding the bulky structure tightly together. Then she shuffled up a pair of very loose, elasticated denim style shorts to finish. It wasn’t as smart as yesterday’s outfit but looked more playful and I suppose, juvenile but I still felt happy wearing it. Despite the horror that had been in my diaper, it had only taken auntie a few minutes to clean me up, get me dressed and ready for my day at Rainbow. I inspected my new outfit in the mirror and thought how much more I looked the part and hoped I’d fit in better now I appeared more infantile. # By 7.30am I was already crawling around with Simon and Kate, two four year-olds, who wanted me to join them, because of the plane on my chest, to make an airport. There were a number of different sized toy planes, some you just pushed but others that made a noise and worked with a clockwork engine. We had a long runway that we swept the planes up and down, taking off and landing and asking permission from the Lego control tower when we could take our turn. It was great fun but, as more kids arrived, our noisy, busy runway got shorter and shorter so in the end we abandoned that and went to play with some toy cars in the corner where a garage was set. The day followed the same pattern as the day before but was completely different. I made other friends and we played different games together. We coloured in, we built, we ran around, we listened to stories, we got checked, we got changed and we napped. We laughed, we cried (well I didn’t but some did) we hugged and we pretended, we pretended we were grown up, which was… fun. At one point I was growling like a lion and chasing around after a group of other kids pretending to be very savage and attempting to eat them for my dinner. The kids were screaming in delight as I was on all-fours chasing and roaring my complete fiercest when almost five year-old Deborah came up to me, spanked me hard on my padded bottom and said very loudly. “Naughty kitty, you’re scaring Julie.” I was so surprised by this intervention that I sat back on my haunches and felt thoroughly chastised by this girl. Julie was indeed looking a bit scared but all the others were laughing and liked me chasing them around but Deborah was having none of it. “Stop scaring people.” She wagged her finger and though I wasn’t going to cry, she seemed so grown up in her attitude that I did feel ashamed and thought if I didn’t stop she was going to spank me again as punishment. That authority came from the fact that she didn’t wear a diaper. She was confident and potty trained, and we ‘little babies,’ still wearing our thick protection, felt she must know best. In fact she was very proud of the fact she was toilet trained. Like all the kids at Rainbow, because of the heat, we wore as little as possible. Her pretty little flowery dress was short, so every time she spun or bent over or just played in general, everyone could see the lack of a diaper and her silky matching little panties. She wasn’t a bully, in fact she seemed to see it as her job to look out for the younger, easily scared or upset members of the group and make it right for them. She was helpful and considerate and the staff liked her because of her empathy with other kids. As I reeled back under her wagging finger I could feel my body try and retreat into itself and without any help from me, I wet myself. The other kids I’d been chasing obviously thought the same of Deborah as I did because they immediately settled down under her stern words and I’m sure I wasn’t the only one to let go a fearful pee. My diaper wasn’t checked again so I had a heavy load to carry with me all the way home. # To be continued… Part Six I hadn’t asked to be changed. Although it hung heavy I was getting used to having a full diaper and it didn’t bother me. It was fascinating to see just how much a disposable could absorb and even more fascinating to feel the weight as you carried it around whilst just getting on with whatever you were doing. I knew eventually someone would make the decision and I’d be put into something clean and dry but until then, I’d just have to put up with it, like all the other kids had to do. However, auntie being auntie, she seemed to enjoy our short walk home with me waddling along with a slightly enhanced wobble. Not that I was quicker, that was the last thing I was, but, with my legs held further apart, my toddler shuffle was far more pronounced. # Once back at the house we went upstairs to the nursery but I could smell the fresh paint and noticed that the WET PAINT sign from the other room had been removed. We peeked inside. “Goshhh.” It was the only comment I could come up with. The boys had done a fantastic job. The furniture had been painted dark blue; the walls were in grey and pale blue. A new bed had been erected and had a wonderful blue and black set of linen (that looked both grown up and sophisticated), indeed, everything about the room felt and looked tasteful. There was a huge mirror on one wall and large framed film posters hanging on the others. A desk had my computer set out and all the boxes and crates had been removed and my clothes hung up or set out in draws. I’m not sure if this was all the work of Gordon and Colin, but it looked fantastic and ready for a bright young man to occupy. I couldn’t help it. A rush of pee gushed into my already sodden nappy as I looked at auntie and she was smiling at my reaction. “This is for the times when you don’t want to be my ‘little boy’ but you do want to be my ‘sweet young man’.” She hugged me as we inspected the work the boys had done and again I had a couple of emotions at the same time. I couldn’t believe the lengths auntie was going to make sure I was happy… and I was incredibly grateful. Also, how emotionally connected I was to such care and attention that it made me excitedly wet myself. I didn’t know I had any more pee left but the warming in my nappy was only eclipsed by the way I felt about auntie. # Once we’d both completed our inspection and praised all that the boys had done we joyfully returned to the nursery, where I was stripped, cleaned and soon settled in a fresh disposable. My opaque plastic pants were once again pulled up to keep everything in place and I was left like that to play until the meal was ready. I decided to watch more cartoons. The ones auntie had started showing me the evening before had grabbed my attention simply because, being in England for so long, I had no idea what kids watched here in Kansas. I sat on the floor, my padded bottom wriggling against the carpet as I watched with interest each short animation. They were unbelievably silly and I found myself in fits watching and enjoying the various characters’ antics. I could easily see why they had made the transition from screen to clothing and why kids identified with them… they were just so much FUN. # Meals were earlier now so when it was ready I was called through and we ate at the table. My place was set with a plastic spoon and a Disney Sippy cup filled with juice. Auntie put a plastic bib around my neck (it had toy cartoon cars with faces on them) I wasn’t expecting this change but twisted in my chair and smiled when I made that noise as my plastic pants rubbed against the slippery seat. She looked at me with a touch of disdain but was smiling so I knew I hadn’t gone too far. The food was cut up into bite-sized pieces and I think it was an encouragement to use my fingers rather than the colourful Disney spoon I’d been given. I began by using the colourful spoon. However, after just a couple of spoonsful I thought it would be fun to feed myself as a kid did. At Rainbow we already ate most stuff with our fingers, especially those under four. There, it was funny watching some of the other kids holding a spoon, as if they were grown up, but with their other hand grab the food and shove it in their mouths. Of course, I did the same and I suppose auntie had seen this and was giving me the opportunity to do what she thought I wanted. I alternated between the two and it was just as well I had the bib in place because I’d made such a mess. We talked and I told her about Deborah and my ‘escaped lion’ game, she was amused when I told her that the spank on the bottom had startled me and I peed myself. I confided that, because she was a big girl, we all did as she said and auntie agreed that we all should take notice of someone like Debbie, because she was a good girl who looked out for everyone. # After our meal, and having my face wiped with a damp cloth, we returned to the living room and auntie and I sat looking at another one of her photograph albums. I really did like these moments because I could snuggle in real close, the rustle of the plastic also being very comforting and she would put her arm around so I’d feel all warm and cosy. I’d quickly got into not feeling in the least bit worried about wondering around the house wearing only my protection. It stayed warm all day and most of the evening, and unless auntie put the air conditioner on, I was happy to dress that way. So, I huddled up close as she turned the pages telling me what memory each image conjured up. There was one of two young boys with their parents I didn’t recognise. “Ah, that’s Gordon and Colin with their parents.” She sighed but obviously the photograph meant a great deal to her. “They were seven and eight then and it was taken about three weeks before their mother ran off.” The two boys looked happy. They were both wearing suits; smart jackets and matching shorts, and looked like they were on their way, or had just come from, church. “They’d been to a wedding, really the last function the family ever attended…” Her voice drifted off as the emotion of the day transferred itself to her. I softly asked if they had all been friends. “No, no, I never knew Sarah, their mother, and only knew Tom, their father, after the boys had broken into Bill’s…” She hugged me and turned the page, partly lost in her own thoughts, but I asked her for more information so she flipped it back. # “I told you that the boys were becoming a bit uncontrollable when your Uncle Bill became aware of them.” I nodded and burrowed in for more facts, the accompanying crinkle made me squirm with pleasure. “When their father was on one of his drunken episodes, it sometimes wasn’t safe for the boys to be around him. He never got over his wife leaving and the boys were a constant reminder of her, which would occasionally send him into a deep angry depression. Tom blamed Colin, who is just a bit slow and a bedwetter, as the reason she left. Although, whether this was true or not, Tom used it as an excuse to beat his boys.” I was sad with this story but hoped she’d continue as I was fascinated to find out more about Colin. “A few times they arrived on our doorstep and Colin would be bruised and Gordon wouldn’t be much better so we’d take them in for the night hoping that, come the morning, their father would have sobered up and have sorted himself out… and often he had.” “Why do you have the photograph?” I innocently asked. “Well, it was the one thing that the boys remembered of the last time they were a family… and happy. They thought their dad might destroy it and it was their favourite image so, they simply brought it to us for safe keeping.” She shrugged. “It’s been in our album ever since.” # “I like the suits they are wearing.” I commented as I ran my finger over the print, “They look really smart.” “Yes, they do don’t they?” She happily reflected. “I think their mother was quite proud of her boys but something, and even Gordon and Colin didn’t know what, drove their parents apart.” She was lost in thought. “I think it was much more than Tom’s drinking but… I shouldn’t speculate, time’s past…” I could feel auntie getting a bit weepy so thought I’d change the subject a bit. “That’s sad.” I cuddled in closer. “I wonder what I’d look like in a suit like that?” Auntie moved to one side so she could get a better look at me. “Are you saying you’d like a nice short suit like that for yourself?” I cast my eyes down because I did, I thought the boys looked very boyish and handsome but was afraid to ask. In the short time I’d been in Kansas the weather had been very hot and it seemed a good idea, if you were going to wear a suit, that shorts were an obvious addition for a young boy. I loved having the warm breeze tickling my bare legs so that was also an attractive plus point for wearing shorts and since I’d arrived, I hadn’t worn jeans or trousers or even thought about wearing such items. Shorts, and my diapers, were to me at least, the ideal dress code. Something else crossed my mind. If auntie thought they looked well-groomed, she might like it if I looked stylish as well. I wriggled in my nappy as mental images of me in such clothes filled my head and how I’d feel proud of being with auntie if we went somewhere special dressed in such a smart, though boyish, outfit. However, auntie had done so much for me and couldn’t be expected to buy a suit like that, which may have been all the rage some years ago, just on a whim from me… but the boys did look nice and I wanted to look nice for auntie as well. Auntie smiled. “Perhaps that’s what my little boy needs, something to make him feel… distinctive… and well-turned-out. Maybe we might be able to stretch the budget a little.” She hugged me tightly and continued with further info about when the boys stayed over. # I found out that Colin had been a bedwetter all his life. Maybe he was just a bit slow to be potty-trained but auntie said that once you got to know him, he may not have been the brightest lad in the area but he was most certainly the nicest. Gordon was his brother and protector and they were very close through the good and bad times… and still were today. She shared the fact that the first time they stayed over, a ten year-old Colin was so scared of wetting the bed the two boys had to share, he tried to stay awake and avoid the problem. Unfortunately, when Bill and auntie looked in on them before they went to bed, the boys were both fast asleep but it was obvious one, if not both, had wet themselves. Auntie had woken them up and both boys were alarmed and afraid of the repercussions. Auntie and Uncle Bill soothed their worried expressions, repeatedly telling them not to worry, that it didn’t matter and ‘accidents’ happen. # The boys were cleaned up in the bathroom by auntie where I’m not sure if they had experienced a loving touch since their mother had left. Meanwhile, Bill stripped the bed, covered the mattress with a rubber sheet and put clean sheets ready for the boy’s return. However, back in the bathroom, auntie had told the boys that though it didn’t matter that they had wet, to avoid having a pile of washing all the time (and by this time it was obvious that it was just Colin who had the problem) she wanted to put him in a diaper. Because the nursery was up and running by then she had things like diapers, plastic pants and all the other stuff needed, or at least could be adapted, to be used for older boys. It was with some convincing that Gordon was able to pursued Colin to accept this proviso and that was only on condition that Gordon wore one as well - the fact that neither had been beaten because of what had happened made them more agreeable to auntie’s and uncle’s suggestion. Reluctantly, and because it was getting late, and to avoid the thought of having to return to their drunken father, they let auntie put them in thick diapers and plastic pants. Come the morning the bed was dry, though Colin had soaked his diaper, but appeared happy and grateful that he hadn’t wet the bed… or his brother. After that, whenever they stayed over, Colin at least wore a diaper to bed. Sometimes, if his younger brother appeared reluctant, Gordon would also be diapered but all-in-all, the boys settled into that routine if they stayed overnight… and seemed none the worse for it as a result. # I was fascinated by this story and wanted to know more. “Do they still wear diapers?” Auntie smiled a mischievous smile. “Who’s a nosey parker then?” I looked suitably rebuffed but I still wanted to know. “The boys are much older now and we,” she looked down at me with a shake of her head, “don’t have that type of relationship anymore. The boys have a home of their own and I have no idea, er, what arrangements are made now.” I thought she actually knew more than she was telling me but I realised that Colin’s secret/problem was his own business and I had no right to cross-examine auntie for my own prurient desire. I had to admit that I liked the thought of a man Colin’s age still happily wearing, and using, diapers. “Is that why you’re happy for me to wear these…” I rubbed the front of my bloated plastic pants. “because they did?” She looked slightly surprised at my question. “No sweetheart. I thought you needed them because you seemed so lost and angry… and wet the bed. I hoped you would discover the comfort in them that I know some boys find in a diaper.” Now it was my turn to look a bit surprised. Seeing my confusion she continued. “There are many different reasons why a boy needs his diapers. He may need one because he isn’t potty trained, he may need one for medical reasons, he may need one because that’s the only thing he can cope with or, maybe, he needs it to feel happy. You may be surprised to learn that for many boys and girls, a diaper makes them happy.” # Auntie had given me loads to think about and as she tucked me in that night, all comfy and cocooned tightly in a new cream and blue onesie, I asked if she’d minded that I’d messed my diaper the night before. “Sweetheart, a diaper is for such things… so why would I be upset?” “But it’s not right or nice, it’s…” “You really must put thoughts of right or wrong out of your mind.” She interrupted and stroked my hair. “Don’t get bogged down in such thoughts as they don’t matter and more especially, they shouldn’t matter to my sweet little boy.” I felt that love radiate from her as she continued to tuck me in. She added wistfully; “Whilst he wants or needs his diaper, for as long as that may be, I’ll be there to help.” As if this was something ‘in general’ will happen and be in no rush to change things. I grabbed my fleecy blanket, pulled it into bed and gently rubbed it against my face. Almost unbidden my thumb slipped between my lips. Auntie’s eyes lit up as if she’d just remembered something. “Oh, I noticed you sucking your thumb last night when I called in.” She reached into her cardigan pocket. “Perhaps you’d prefer to suck on this?” She revealed a white and dark blue pacifier and held it near to my mouth. The shiny rubber teat suddenly appearing was a surprise but, as I’d taken the bottle and auntie had seen me sucking my thumb, it didn’t really seem much of a problem. I could see she was letting me once again decide whether it was something I wanted, and as usual, she was correct because I quickly lifted my head and let her slip it between my lips. I had no idea what kind of picture I made but I was sucking and enjoying the taste of my first dummy. # I was going to bed whatever time auntie said was bedtime. It made no difference whether it was 6pm or 10pm I went when I was led upstairs to be readied for sleep. Auntie had made it such fun to be washed and dressed for bed because I never knew what exactly I’d be wearing. Oddly enough, no matter what time I went I was always tired and in need of my bed. It’s no wonder kids sleep so much, it really is quite exhausting keeping up with their ideas and games, so when there’s a break for cookies or lunch or a nap… it’s really needed… or at least I did. # Not surprisingly my dream included Colin, except, like me he was only a toddler and we were playing together and dressed the same – in the short suits I’d seen him wearing in the photograph, although with thick protection underneath. Auntie was still auntie but we two were best friends (I think I’d magically become Gordon) and did everything together. It was great having a friend like him as it was something I’d never had before. We had secrets together, we knew what the other was thinking, and we built fantastic fortresses whilst having a brilliant time coming up with games that only he and I knew how to play. It was one of the best dreams I’d ever had. Auntie was there checking our huge diapers and eventually finding we were both soaked. We laughed because we were unaware, in all our excitement and games, that we’d peed our pants. At that moment I woke up giggling with Colin about our situation only to find auntie really checking my early morning diaper and saying it was time to get up to be changed. As I moved from my dream world into reality I realised I hadn’t only wet, I’d messed as well. Up until that moment, everything, all my feelings and emotions, made me believe it was so real but the dream had let me down because I hadn’t messed in that… well at least I couldn’t remember doing so. There was something else, I’d woken up with my pee-pee (that’s what auntie called it and I wasn’t going against what she said) stiff in my diaper and the last thing I remember was that Colin and I were holding hands enjoying spinning each other around. As auntie set to work cleaning me up I lay there wondering why, for the second night running, I’d filled my diaper in such a way. I was also thinking what it would be like to have a friend like Colin. I wasn’t certain if I should mention my dream to her because I couldn’t be sure how she’d take that I was obsessing about one of her boys, in the end I decided to keep quiet about it. # For the next few weeks everything was going well. Well, for me at least as I continued to attend Rainbow. I never tired of the constant new play and ideas that toddlers could come up with and the sheer joy of running about aimlessly. Tag, hide ‘n’ seek, capuddle (I think this one was made up by Molly?), dress-up, singing, I learned a lot as the kids learned as they grew. I’d come to love my time with all the toddlers and it never bothered me that I wasn’t making friends my own age. When not at Rainbow I kept myself to myself spending all my time at home or with auntie. If we went anywhere I still wore my diaper and protection except I might wear a t-shirt without a cartoon pig or such things on it. My shorts covered my protection and it didn’t bother me that I crinkled as I walked I wanted to keep the feeling of being a dependent little boy for as long as I could. One Friday afternoon, just after auntie and I had returned from Rainbow and were getting ready for the weekend, a crate arrived addressed to me. It had been sent via the American Embassy in the UK and it was my clothes from the school there. They had hung onto it wondering, and expecting, my return to their privileged educational establishment. Once they were definite that wasn’t going to happen, they parcelled up all my belongings and sent them to the embassy not knowing exactly where I had gone or what had happened to me. The embassy in turn had eventually tracked auntie’s address and… here it all was. I think auntie was surprised at the over-elaborate school uniform I’d been expected to wear. It was all very dressy and not very comfortable but, in that particular school, it was expected – ‘Tradition’ had been the watchword, even if it meant absolutely nothing to the students. Most of us couldn’t wait until lessons were over and we could return to the dorm and put on something a little more appropriate to our age. So, there was also the rest of my ‘civvies’ (it’s what all the boys called anything that wasn’t that damned uniform), jeans, joggers, t-shirts, shirts, trousers, shoes - in fact all the things that made staying in that god awful place, tolerable. # There were report cards, a few certificates I’d received, mostly for my success in swimming and running and a small trophy I’d accidently won on a fun quiz night we’d had in house. There was also my sportswear – running shorts, vest, trainers and a pair of shiny (house blue) boxing shorts that I’d worn for the two bouts I had whilst at school. I’m not proud of the fact that after two bouts they banned me from the ring. The coach couldn’t channel my anger so once I got into the ring all I wanted to do was beat the crap out of my opponent. As I simply refused to do what the coach said, and after I’d followed through once too many times, the ban was imposed and that’s when I took to running, especially cross-country running, something the school was quite proud of. I liked being alone and though I didn’t take to training, I did win most of my races, much to the annoyance of the teacher responsible for developing our talents. Auntie seemed both proud and aghast when I told her about my ‘achievements’, none of which I really wanted to acknowledge but auntie was auntie and she should know about me… I didn’t want any secrets. # Meanwhile, I’d just been put into a dry disposable and a pair of fun, nursery print plastic pants when the doorbell rang. It was a couple of people from the education department and they needed to speak to auntie. She had argued the case that I was still very traumatised by what had happened to my parents and had retreated, for the time being at least, into a protective shell that excluded other people. She claimed that it was with a great deal of patience and persuasion I’d been cajoled into even agreeing to at least mix with the toddlers at her nursery, which she claimed as some sort of victory on my part. The examiners from the department were not completely convinced and said they would need a psychiatric report and not just her word. I was still upstairs at this point, all this took place in the kitchen and without my involvement but eventually they wanted to meet me. She said before I was led in to meet these concerned people to put some shorts over my diaper but to keep my childish cartoon shirt and act like I did at the nursery. I acted very nervous around these people and held auntie’s hand throughout the rather stilted conversation. I even wet my diaper but as they couldn’t know that, it was more for my benefit than theirs. However, after much discussion, and with the summer recess rapidly approaching, it was eventually agreed, after a planned visit to see the school board’s child psychiatrist, that I’d provisionally start 9th Grade in the new school year. My warming wet diaper was no salve to the knowledge that before too long I’d have to grow up and mix with my peers. I was one very unhappy little boy. The tears the visitors saw were real as I released even more pee into my rapidly filling nappy. # To be continued… Part 7 The prospect of losing my status as auntie’s little boy was more than I could bear. She consoled me as I wept long after our visitors had departed. Her reassuring words lost as all I could hear were my own heartfelt sobs. Although my return to a lively teenager wasn’t planned to happen for a couple of months I’d really got into being a little boy with no thoughts other than to play and please auntie. Of course auntie had been as good as her word and had bought me a suit like the ones Gordon and Colin had worn in their photograph. I know it may sound strange but the fact that I was dressed like Colin when he was eight (even though I’m a lot taller than he was) and wearing a nappy underneath those shorts, pleased me no end. I looked so dapper and I have to say, absolutely no other kids, anywhere we went, were wearing anything even resembling what I was dressed in. I got many looks, some nods of approval from older citizens and some anything but, however, I may have looked like I should be in elementary school but inside I still felt like a toddler desperately playing at looking grown up (and of course to a toddler anyone over eight looks grown up). Meanwhile, the elastic on my plastic pants, just an inch from the hem of my short shorts (which no doubt could be noticed by anyone who showed an interest), gripped the top of my leg tightly, holding my disposable in place and keeping my desired juvenile experience going. Auntie was all praise. She thought I’d chosen the outfit well and that I looked the handsomest, most stylish boy around and that made me glow with pride when we went anywhere. However, with the scheduled return of my teenage years, together with the thought of losing that special bond which both of us enjoyed, left me feeling very distressed indeed. # Since I’d taken to wearing protection all the time auntie had developed a routine that I found wonderful. It was the same for when I got up or went to bed. Clean up - the applying of various ointments and powders to protect my skin thus prevent any irritation, rashes or reappearance of my pubic hair. Fresh diaper - sometimes a disposable, sometime fabric that was left to auntie to decide, I happily went along with whatever she thought most appropriate. Then it was a pair of plastic pants either pulled up or snapped into position. Again auntie made the choice about thickness, colour, pattern, size - often she just liked the clear pull-up style so she could see the diaper underneath. This was my favourite moment, standing in front of the mirror, or even just laying out, wearing my newly fitted diaper and clear plastic pants. It was a joy to see the fluffy white material contained under the slippery, glossy vinyl and, to me at least (and I’m sure to auntie as well), this was the basis for me becoming her ‘special little boy’. It was like the first block on the Lego board and the start of whatever else was made… and what was being made… was me. Once that was done then, depending on whether I was going out or going to sleep, she chose what, if anything was to go over it all. She loved choosing my outfits and although I liked that I didn’t have to make a decision I also felt I was giving her something back as a result. # I picked up from the way auntie sometimes spoke, reminisced or simply cared for me that this action, this dressing me as a child, meant something to her as well. I hoped that it brought back happy memories of when she and Bill were together; perhaps looking after Gordon and Colin as they began to grow, though needing that stabilising influence which they offered. They had no kids of their own but auntie had spent a great deal of her life devoted to looking after and nurturing the young of the town. I’m sure she saw me as another soul in need of such cherishing and I was certainly appreciative of all that she did for me. Some might have felt smothered by such attention but to me, it was something I’d missed all my life and simply couldn’t get enough of her love. # Sometimes, if auntie was working in the den on reports or assessments for Rainbow I’d check out the photo albums again and again. I loved that one picture of Gordon and Colin with their parents and often thought about where the photo might have been taken as it didn’t look like anywhere local. I’d fantasize about an eight year-old Colin wriggling in his diaper and plastic pants under those smart shorts and think… that’s what I do. The smiles on the boy’s faces were genuine and even at that young age they did look incredibly handsome. Although I couldn’t see, because the photo was cropped at the knee, I imagined they wore leather sandals and little white ankle socks to complete the outfit. That one image from when they were so happy fed into my brain and I mentally produced a thousand and one scenarios that included me wearing my suit and joining them in some adventure or other. There were a few other snaps of the boys but they were when they were that bit older and had fallen under the spell of Uncle Bill and Auntie Joan. There were shots of them working alongside Bill, looking at the camera and pleased at some completed project. The two boys in their ‘uniform’ of khaki shorts and t-shirts also showed how they had filled out and developed in the time since that early ‘wedding’ photograph. However, every time I saw Colin in one of the poses I’d let my mind wander and think about perhaps him wearing the same protection as me. There were no shots even hinting that he had a diaper on, but that still didn’t stop my imagination from working overtime and supplying him, like me, with a whole array of thick protection. # I’d see the boys occasionally. They had the maintenance contract at Rainbow so kept the lawns mowed and the garden trimmed. They also repaired anything that needed doing and removed the large oddly shaped graffiti penis that had been spray-painted on one of the exterior walls. I only caught sight of them for a few moments but was transfixed at how they worked so easily together. Gordon in his paint speckled brown overalls and Colin in his similarly paint streaked brown shorts and t-shirt. To me they looked a powerful couple and wondered what it would be like to join their small firm. I wished auntie would invite them to the house for dinner or something but, they were a busy little company (remember: no job too small) so their services were always in demand. The other probability of course was that I was often in bed and fast asleep by the time they finished their day’s work. If they happened to notice auntie and I when we were out and about, they always tooted their horn and waved. This simple action had an unexpected effect and my bladder would give way with some kind of excited surge and I’d spend the rest of the day, until auntie noticed, wandering around in a GorCol Services inspired soaked diaper. # Since I’d been in auntie’s care I’d never once thought our relationship was odd. In fact, quite the opposite, I’d never known a more loving, understanding, empathetic person whose soul aim was to give other people all the encouragement they might need. In my case she’d provided me with the options of what I wanted and what was needed. I had the one life I was happily living; yet, on the horizon was the life I’d soon have to return to. Auntie was prepared. She’d said it might happen and wanted the trauma of such an event to impact as little as possible. So, to ease me back into teenagedom, sometimes, when we went to a restaurant or shopping, I was encouraged to dress in my ‘normal’ clothes. Of course, ‘normal’ for me now meant my diaper and such stuff not the teen apparel hung up in the ‘other room’. Together we went through all my clothes and sorted what still fit and useful, what was awful and decided I’d need a few more things for when I went back to school. I had no desire to be trendy but auntie thought I should look like I fit in so that’s how I ended up with an almost entirely new ‘teenage’ wardrobe. In the changing rooms trying on various items seemed strange attempting to drag a pair of chinos over my thick diaper. Still, when I went to school perhaps I wouldn’t be wearing protection? A problem auntie encountered was my reluctance to wear trousers or jeans because I was more than content in my shorts. I still had my diaper under whatever I wore because I didn’t feel confident about not peeing myself. I’d gotten out of that particular discipline and realised it was something, when I resumed senior school I was going to have to be more aware of. However, since being put in diapers after that first time I wet myself at the mall I’d never wanted to wear my boxers or briefs. I saw they were neatly folded away in one of the draws in the ‘other room’ but I’d had no desire to swap them for my diaper. There is just something so comforting about a diaper - the way it hugs you all the time. If I’m crouching or sitting and I get up, I like the way you can feel the weight readjust its position - underpants don’t do that. If I’m watching TV I like the way I can stroke the plastic mound knowing that I’m protected and safe. I love the feel of a fresh diaper as it’s taped tightly into place and love when I pee and that warm, clammy flush fills the front and acts like a huge, spontaneous indirect smile… a smile that then stays with you until it’s time for a change and the entire happy process starts all over again. # I had another problem and that was, I wasn’t a very sociable person. Back at school in the UK I had tried to avoid mixing and went out of my way not to have ‘best friends’. I don’t know precisely what my thought process in those days was but my general dislike of authority, the people, the situation and the UK, in truth, I just hated everything about everything. However, one thing about the stuffy uniform was that every boy was dressed the same. There were no fashion shows going on there and education was what the school was all about, even if you did look like a reject from the nineteenth century. Because I was just so resentful of the position I was in it never occurred to me that friends might help me through it all. Over the many years I’d been away from my parents some kids had sought a friendship but I’d been unapproachable and a loner. When I got to England, I despised and was bitter about my life – I hated the inevitability that I’d end up in this grotesque ancient institution even though I’d had to sit an exam to enter its hallowed halls. Yes, another quandary. I was so mixed up I wanted to do my best at all times, because I thought that was for me, I didn’t want to be reliant on anyone else. If my parents felt they could do without me, then I would show them I didn’t need them. I may have been the least friendly person at school but I was diligent in my work. # Oh, the contradictory thoughts and feelings which go through your mind when you hit puberty. Still, I had to mix at some level but kept myself as detached as possible from my ‘house’ mates. It wasn’t always possible and that was how I came to be the recipient of a small trophy for my contribution to a ‘house’ quiz night. For some reason it was like in Slumdog Millionaire, I just knew all the answers. I didn’t know why but I did and my knowledge meant we won by a considerable margin. For two minutes I glowed in the praise of others and then returned to my uncommunicative self. There is no doubt about it – I was a mess. # The chance auntie offered to start again had been some kind of salve because, although I was only mixing with toddlers, at least I was mixing. I no longer hated everyone. My parents were gone so there was no point in hating them and, I know this sounds terrible, but I had rarely thought about mom and dad since I’d arrived in Kansas. I no longer only thought of myself now I had auntie and the rest of Rainbow to think about. The kids at Rainbow had, despite my obvious size difference, accepted me completely and I was grateful to them for that. They were a great crowd who just wanted me to play and have as much fun as they did. I discovered early on that when I stopped fighting my jumbled ‘big boy’ thoughts and gave myself over completely to enjoying my life, even if that was as a diaper-clad toddler, I could… and did. # As the time approached for my return to senior education at the town’s High School I got to think that maybe I could reinvent myself. No one knew me here; I’d be just a new boy from Out-of-State who for some reason had to relocate. I could be who I wanted and do what I wanted. I could… At times I’d get carried away with my thoughts but then look down and see my fluffy white diaper under the see-thru plastic pants and know I didn’t really want to change from where I was, or who I was, at all. I loved being aunties ‘good little boy’ and didn’t want to change. However, the impending visit to the education department’s child psychiatrist had me worried. # Auntie tried to prepare me. I’d immersed myself so deeply in being a toddler that the thought of ‘growing up’ made me anxious. However, as I say, auntie was there to help and guide and reaffirm my status. It was unfortunate that my appointment with the psychiatrist was on the same day that I turned fourteen. It was a date I couldn’t change, the psychiatrist was always well booked up so you took the appointment when they said and it wasn’t open to discussion. Birthday or no birthday I was going to be assessed for High School. The education department was being pretty tough on auntie and I saw the welter of papers she had to fill out for school on my behalf. However, the one thing she did say about attending High School was that they didn’t have a uniform, students could, within reason, wear what they liked. After the formal regalia I’d had to wear at my last school I was quite pleased about that but wondered if I’d be allowed to wear my preferred shorts and t-shirt. Auntie suggested that, when the time came, I should check out what the other students wore and then make a decision. She encouraged me to think positive about it but I still couldn’t get over that I’d be away from my friends at Rainbow and the thought of mixing with ‘big kids’ actually scared me. # As I couldn’t be there to celebrate, a few days before my birthday auntie and I made cookies for all the folk at Rainbow. I spent a wonderful evening in the kitchen covering them in colourful frosting. I got a bit messy, which I really enjoyed, standing there next to auntie as she supervised and read off the names of all the boys and girls and staff as I carefully (well not that carefully) piped each name across some weirdly shaped cookie. I was dressed only in my diaper, nursery print plastic pants and a matching bib, which was just as well as I think I tasted more cookies than I should (they were delicious) and frosting ended up all over me and in to some weird places. On the morning of my birthday I was surprised to see I had more than just a card from auntie. The staff at Rainbow had sent one and a huge, handmade one ‘signed’ by all my friends took pride of place. Auntie had bought me enough since I’d been with her and the only thing I’d hinted I might like was a huge castle I’d seen advertised on TV (aimed at children 5 and over), which had loads of dragons, knights and monsters you could add. Since I’d seen the advert, me and a couple of the boys at Rainbow who had also seen it, had been building our own imaginary castle out of boxes and foam squares. I may have been the biggest boy there but I was just like the others in my excitement of the TV programme that the castle was licensed to. The day following each TV show, we’d all re-enact what had happened, adding our own interpretation and screaming with delight as Mikey, who was the dragon, pretended to swoop down breathing imaginary fire. It was wonderful. I got what I wanted for my birthday. # I wanted to wear shorts and t-shirt to go and see the psychiatrist but, as I’d been practicing being a teenager again, it was thought jeans and a polo shirt might be more appropriate. However, as I‘d not had a dry day since I put on my first diaper, auntie made sure I still had my protection on under my jeans. Crammed against the tight denim they didn’t crinkle quite so much but I felt slightly more confident knowing I was wearing them. The psychiatrist saw auntie first and she was in his office for well over an hour. She’d told me before we went in (I was still holding her hand when we were first greeted by Doctor Gomez) to answer honestly. After being with pre-schoolers for so long I wasn’t sure I was capable of being anything but honest, kids may lie but you can tell immediately so I wasn’t going to chance it. So, whilst Auntie Joan was interviewed by the doctor, I found myself on the carpeted floor playing with some toys aimed at the under-fives. I knew the receptionist was watching but pretty soon I forgot about her and just let my imagination run wild as I played with cars and bricks to keep myself amused. I also accidentally wet myself before being called into his office. # Eventually auntie swapped places with me in the reception area and I went in alone to see the doctor. It was strange because I was very nervous and yet, when I sat the exam and had the interview for school in the UK, I wasn’t in the least bit bothered, perhaps that was due to the fact I didn’t care. However, now I was confronted by the doctor and with an absolutely soaked diaper hanging between my legs, I was very tense. I wished I still had auntie’s hand to hold but Doctor Gomez tried in his way to put me at ease. The doctor was a man younger than auntie but certainly didn’t look it. His receding hairline made his face appear long and horse-like, with thin lips that when he smiled seemed more of an evil smirk than amusement. His suit had seen better days but the office itself was bright and tidy with one wall covered by framed diplomas and photographs. I’d expected to see a black leather couch but instead I was offered a seat on a pale beige three seater sofa, which matched the pale beige swivel chair where he sat. There was a desk behind him, with an expensive looking leather chair, a phone and a small recording devise. He appeared pleasant enough but I was too nervous to speak and all I could think about was my wet diaper squashed under my denim jeans. It all seemed so tight and I wanted the looseness of my shorts back as soon as possible. # He had a pile of notes in front of him so I gathered he already knew most of my history. I didn’t realise he’d also have a copy of a final report that the UK school had compiled on my academic worth but he had because I could see the school emblem on the front of it. He asked me about my parent’s death, how it had affected me. He burrowed into my younger life living away from home and how I felt about that. School in the UK and the discipline it offered (I’m not sure what he imagined went on there but corporal punishment just didn’t happen). For over an hour he cross-examined me (or that was what it felt like) about everything since I’d arrived in Kansas but I had a problem, I was getting angry, and I knew I shouldn’t. It seemed to me he wanted to hear negative things about auntie, to somehow blame her for my retreat back to childhood. For the first time since I’d been with auntie I had to think as an adult, I didn’t want to but knew I hated this doctor and what I saw as his snide, nasty insinuations. I hated people prying or knowing too much about me, (although that huge sheaf of papers meant he already knew a great deal) and, as if sensing my predicament, my bladder just opened up and I felt the warming sensation fill my already soaked diaper. Any thoughts of being an adult vanished in that moment and I did what I thought I had to do to get out of there. So, to emphasise my toddler status, I filled my diaper with as much poo as I could force out. I was grateful that auntie had made sure the plastic pants she’d put me in had been well tucked around my diaper to prevent any leaks. But now I could feel my full and messy diaper squished up in my jeans and wanted to make sure he knew what I’d done. # I pulled at my jeans, yanked down my plastic pants and said. “Gone poo poo.” The smell was horrendous and I saw the doctor back away as I crawled on all-fours towards him. I wrinkled my nose and grabbed his leg. “Pwease...” I didn’t get any request out before he shrugged me off and called for auntie to come and attend to me. I followed him and tried to grab his leg again but when auntie came in she looked down at me and I immediately sat back on my haunches with a sad expression and pet lip. “Auntie I done a poo…” I confessed. Auntie didn’t quite know what was going on but took her cue wonderfully. “What have you been saying to him?” Her accusation was fierce and direct. The doctor seemed stunned that he was under attack and could only stammer some kind of defence. “I’ve only recently got him to engage with other teenagers and you, you quazi-psychiatrist…” She was on top form and her anger seemed to seep into every word she uttered, “Have set him back to his…” Her rant went on for quite some time as I sucked my thumb, sat in my own poo rubbing the front of my engorged diaper looking sorry, weepy and scared. Doctor Gomez was none too happy about this turn of events and tried to escape into the reception area and hide behind his secretary. She seemed horrified as a smelly fourteen year-old followed him and crawled around her office. With jeans and plastic pants around my ankles I leaked, dripping wet stinking turds onto her lovely beige carpet. Meanwhile, not only was she not pleased but the doctor’s next patients looked on bemused and shocked in equal amounts. # Auntie saw the sign for the bathroom and dragged me in, she was pretending to look annoyed but I could see a slight smirk on her face. “What were you thinking?” She whispered as she ripped at the tapes and let my sagging diaper slosh onto the floor. “I have no idea.” I had to admit. As always she was prepared and her bag was full of wipes, lotion, powder and spare disposables. “I just didn’t like him… he was trying to cause trouble…” I whispered back. I was still wondering to myself just what great plan had formulated in my head but in truth, there was nothing. “Sorry auntie,” I really was sorry if I’d done something that might reflect badly on her, “but he really was a complete…” “Now now, no name calling.” She interrupted. “Good boys don’t say naughty words.” She picked up the messy diaper and deftly rolled it up before shoving it in a rather small and inappropriate pedal bin. “Well, I’m not sure what his report will say now but I think between us we probably haven’t done ourselves any favours.” She said and opened a bright green canister. I giggled as the first cooling wet wipe scraped across my bottom. “I don’t care.” I was angry and giggly all at the same time, those wipes really tickled. “I’m not having him blame you for my wanting a childhood back… not even back. I never had one in the first place so… who is he to deny me one?” I’m sure there was a tantrum brewing as I thought about screaming these simple facts at him. # She could see I was getting agitated and speedily sponged me clean, quickly powdered and slipped a fresh diaper into place. She noticed that because I’d crawled around on the floor with my jeans and plastic pants pulled down some of my mess had managed to stick to the rest of my clothes. My aunt was more prepared than I would have thought because when we eventually emerged from the bathroom I had a clean t-shirt, fresh protection and a pair of elasticated pale green shorts any five year-old would be proud of. She looked over at Doctor Gomez who was trying to placate his next patients. “I don’t know what you said,” she accused, “but I can’t get him to wear anything else.” She held my hand as I sucked my thumb. “I shall be making a full report to your superiors about your… methods.” She left the threat hanging in the air as we waltzed out of his office and climbed into the car. “Oh Dean, I don’t know what is going to happen now but I have to tell you I felt the same. I didn’t like that man at all.” She gently pulled my thumb out of my mouth and popped in my dummy. “However, I think it’s time to give you the birthday you really want.” She put the car into drive and set off. It was just after nap time when we arrived at Rainbow so I could happily celebrate my fourteenth (or was that my fourth?), with the people I actually liked. # To be continued… Part 8 Auntie wanted me to try sleeping in the ‘other room’ with all the grown up stuff and sensible covers. This was her idea of ‘baby steps’ (I’m sure she used those words on purpose to get me to go along with it all) to feel able to identify with being fourteen. She wanted me to try not wetting during the day (although I was allowed to wear protection to sleep in), and get used, all over again, to wear ‘big boy’ underwear and to take a tinkle in a toilet. She didn’t want the kids at my new school to be able to torment me over something that I’d mastered many years ago but at that moment found a strange thing to contemplate… a diaper took care of those ‘where and when’ peeing-pressures. However, auntie needed me to at least try and so I did. For a few weeks prior to my return to teenage education I wore my briefs during the day and didn’t attend Rainbow quite so often. She wanted me to do what other kids my age did in their summer break and wander around the mall, go to the local pool, etc. etc. Sometimes we went together; sometimes I was on my own. I didn’t panic when alone but on a couple of occasions I saw a damp patch appear on my chinos shorts (when I went out I’d wear sensible length shorts as opposed to the short short style I preferred as a toddler)before I realised I needed to get to a bathroom. Still, I was doing what auntie asked and as a result felt slightly more confident (although confident isn’t exactly the correct word here) about the fast approaching first day of term. # Even though at school in the UK I was surrounded by other boys my age and we were forced into taking part in sports and extra-curricular activities together, I somehow contrived to keep myself to myself. As I say, the teachers disapproved of my independence and as far as they were concerned team work and team spirit were at the heart of a good school and an ‘included’ set of students. This didn’t suit me. I fought in my own ‘loner-ish’ way to be myself and rejected the school’s mandatory ‘all for one’ philosophy. # Now I was fourteen, and because auntie wanted me to be a happy teenager at my new school, we chatted more and more about my time in the UK. She listened politely whist I raged about how stupid it all was (and not just the uniform). However, I found as I explained to auntie the worst excesses of my schoolboy life that I had to admit I did learn a lot. My grades were high and despite everything I was a good student. The teachers were pretty good and were never condescending. If you had a problem or didn’t understand something, they took the time to discuss and eventually sort whatever it was out. I found it difficult to admit to the school’s positives so fell back to why I disliked the place so much. I hated the crowned princes, the bastard children of Russian oligarchs, minor royals, foreign dignitary’s brattish kids, the privileged and the self-important… not once did I associate myself as being one of them. It was only when auntie gently pointed out that because of my parent’s ‘political’ influence, their importance to the country and their desire for me to have the best education money could buy, is why I was there in the first place. I have to say auntie’s grasp on my life was so much better than my own. She wasn’t saying I should be grateful, what she was saying was that the people I reviled were also there because of their family connections and influence, so at that level, we were no different. We were having this discussion on a lovely sunny Sunday afternoon out in the garden; she in a very summery, flowery dress and me, enjoying the sun, naked apart from a pair of khaki cotton shorts (yes again influenced by Gordon and Colin’s photographs) and briefs. It’s a strange feeling when a point of view you’ve held as a plus point to your existence unravels and the folly of your behaviour becomes overwhelming. This simple revelation made an impact. The idea I was actually no different from those other privileged pupils in the UK really hit home. As always, auntie was mild in her reasoning, allowing me to come to my own conclusions in my own time. However, the shock that rippled through my body as I arrived at this mind-altering deduction was most dramatic. I filled my diaper, except I wasn’t wearing one so, I wet myself and at the same time broke down into the most dreadful lamentation. I shuddered at my own foolishness; I’d been a stupid, self-absorbed kid all my life. Here I was thinking I was being self-sufficient, original, even a rebel but it was a lie. I hadn’t seen or taken advantage of any of the benefits I could have had. I’d been blind to opportunities, no wonder the teachers despaired at my attitude. I was a rebel without reason and cried for my wasted life, one that I now recognised I‘d imposed on myself. My parents weren’t the ones to blame; I’d made my life an awful experience through my own efforts. I was in torment, what had I done? Panic gripped my body and tears flowed for quite some time. # Auntie hugged and consoled me but such sudden uncontrolled emotions meant I was completely out of control. Since I’d been with auntie I hadn’t had to face up to anything even remotely ‘grown up’ until the psychiatrist (and look how that went). I’d eagerly become her ‘good little boy’ but this revelation was just too much. I’d blamed my parents for depriving me of a happy childhood but in fact, I manged to engineer that on my own. I was a teenage boy and I’d just discovered something about myself that not only shocked but had reduced me to a blubbering baby in wet pants. I may have enjoyed playing the ‘little boy’ but the truth was I really felt lost and more in need of an adult’s guidance than I’d ever done before. She rocked me gently in her arms and patted my soggy bottom and hugged my naked chest to her sweetly warm perfumed breast. Once my sobbing had died down and I began to think more clearly she let me out of her embrace and I sat at her feet as she stroked her fingers through my hair. “I suppose I’m going to have to grow up.” I said as much to myself as I did to auntie. Her fingers stopped their stroking for a brief second whilst she thought. “You are grown up sweet-heart. We can’t deny that and certainly the education department won’t let you but, and this is the main thing about my sweet little Doddle...” She’d been lovingly calling me that since I’d explained the nickname back in the UK. Although when she said it there was always a twinkle in her eye as well as love in her voice and it made me a simpering, shy kiddie who’d just wanted to please her. Her hand began stroking my head again and I felt the tenderness in those finger tips. “You are in school for around 35 hours a week, what you choose to do with the rest of the 133 hours is entirely up to you.” No doubt she could feel my brain thinking through my skull. “I like my little boy,” she ruffled my hair, “I like my big boy as well… so no matter which he wants to be, I think that’s who he should be.” There was a certain wistfulness to her voice as she added. “Despite how you now feel… and I’m sure confusion is pretty high on that list… you need that connection to the nursery. You may not need it all the time, or for much longer but…” and her voice faltered slightly, “you do need it.” I let out a huge sigh because I knew auntie was correct. Without her teaching me, in the most wonderful way, to appreciate people (and toddlers are people too), how to interact, how to have fun and take pleasure in that fun. How to be social and not antisocial, how to enjoy simple pleasures and re-evaluate in the simplest terms all that has gone before… I would have carried around a sack full of unwarranted hate and animosity for ever. The new location, the diapers and without doubt the unconditional love meant she’d stripped me right back to help with a new start. I looked down at my pants and saw the huge dark wet stain almost obliterating the dry khaki colour and really wished I’d worn a diaper. As if auntie really needed me to explain and point out my accident I indicated the soaked pants. “I’m not sure being a ‘big boy’ is going to be a success.” She shrugged her shoulder slightly. “So, what would my sweet wet boy want to happen next?” I was quite embarrassed that my emotions had led me to cause such a flow. “I don’t think I’m quite ready to be a big boy… mmm… perhaps I should be your good little boy for a while longer?” I queried hopefully. She smiled and held out her hand. “Maybe I should make sure my sweet boy is well protected for the rest of the day at least.” # We toddled off upstairs to the nursery where auntie stripped me out of my wet things. She held up my white CK trunks that looked positively yellow and shook her head. Meanwhile, I lay there happily sucking on my dummy as she cleaned up and slipped a particularly well stuffed, thick fabric diaper under my butt. She pinned it tightly into position before sliding a pair of crinkly clear plastic pants over the bulbous, though strangely comforting object. I was back to being what I wanted to be and wriggled in my own delight. All thoughts of school and my past mistakes fled at the same time as auntie took away the sodden khaki shorts and wet undies to be washed. I wished my messy thoughts could be similarly dumped in a machine and come out all fresh and clean. Alas, I had to sort this out for myself and hope that I could maintain some kind of balance in future. It was going to be a struggle on both our parts. # I appreciated auntie knew best and that I wouldn’t be able to stay a kid for ever but I can’t tell you, now I’d realised my past mistakes, how scared I was of starting at a new school all over again. I lay in bed comfortable in my protection, my hand gently rubbing the slippery surface of my billowing plastic pants but my thoughts definitely on the future. With dummy in mouth and hugging my teddy bear I hoped I’d could come up with some kind of solution to all this. The problem I had – mentally, where I was at that moment made me extremely happy. I didn’t want to change but change I knew was necessary. You’d think being a loner for all this time meant I would have no problem because having no friends wouldn’t bother me… except now things had changed. I would do anything for auntie. I had responsibilities, daft as that sounds, I had responsibilities not to make auntie’s life difficult. We’d already seen how complicated it could get if psychiatrists and the education department decided to become more involved. I needed to find something that would keep my younger and older selves happy, or if not happy, at least functioning at an acceptable level. # Throughout the long school summer break auntie tried to get me to socialise with people my real age. There were a few 8th, 9th and 10th graders living nearby and she hoped that I might mix but they had seen me around and thought, because of the way I dressed, I was some kind of weirdo, so didn’t appear all that keen to have anything to do with me. I have to say, this suited me fine but knew it shouldn’t, I had to make the effort for auntie. The Rainbow Rooms Nursery stayed open for most of the lengthy summer school break and was packed with the young children of some very appreciative parents. I think, if they could, those fraught moms and dads would have loved to be able to dump their teenage kids there as well. I felt fortunate in being allowed to be part of this fun-loving, ego-less, noisy and un-patronising family of playful toddlers. Auntie had a saying: “Those things you learn without joy you will easily forget.” I had to admit, I’d learned a great deal from those kids. # Meanwhile, there’d been an open day for new students to have a look around the High School and auntie and I were able to chat with the principal and some of the teachers who were there to placate any fears or reservations newcomers might have. Most of the new arrivals were kids younger than me but there were two other boys my age also relocating and starting 9th grade at this place. Auntie made sure I spoke to them so that I (and they) would have at least a couple of people we knew on that scary first day. # Yoosuf was born three days after my birthday, came from Florida, although his grandparents were originally from Iran (left during the purge) and looked and acted like a little prince. His dark hair and huge dark eyes just drew you in and I would bet that he’d be pursued around campus by most of the girls his age. Just from the elegant way he looked I knew he must have come from a family with money but, if that was the case, why was he enrolling at the local High School and not at some private academy? No doubt all would be revealed over the coming term… then I thought of my own predicament and would I want to explain the death of my parents to anyone? I shivered at the thought that his story might be similar to my own. There was nearly two months difference in mine and Oliver’s birthday and he was most definitely from a very poor background. His clothes were mismatched and old but he had a smile that would win him many friends. He was upbeat and positive about this new school and I found it quite endearing that he should go out of his way to make me feel included. There was something about Oliver that I just couldn’t put my finger on. I felt an immediate rapport. He was both shy and yet confident. No, let me try that again. He looked shy. His long eyelashes, sandy blond hair and almost girlie features made him look like he needed the protection of others. However, when he spoke, and the way he acted, he was full of confidence about himself and his laugh was genuine and infectious. I liked him a lot. Despite there being an obvious ‘class’ gap between him and Yoosuf, he wanted to be friends with everyone and his enthusiasm was irresistible. Yoosuf appeared as enamoured of Oliver as I was and it didn’t take too long before we were chatting about our favourite music and TV shows. # The first day of school was looming and I’d spent the last few days preparing myself for this occasion. Despite auntie encouraging me to sleep in the ‘other room’ I didn’t feel confident of not having a wet night. She’d said I could wear protection to bed if that helped but I just felt happier if I slept in the nursery surrounded by my stuffed animals and changing table. I’d become accustomed to seeing my plastic pants and piles of diapers before I fell asleep and they made me feel safe. I tried not to pee during the night but that was proving difficult as I woke up every morning with a soaked diaper. However, there was some improvement. I was using the toilet during the day with very few ‘accidents’, which, with help from a pull-up I wore under my briefs, soaked up any dribbles. I don’t think anyone could tell I was wearing any form of padding under my chinos so hoped that would solve at least part of that problem. I did miss the morning ritual that auntie had developed of me being diapered and put into a slinky pair of shiny plastic pants. That first view in a morning of a pristine diaper swathed in slick vinyl always made me feel terrific and ready for the day. I tried to get that same ‘rush’ when I pulled up my pull-up but it just wasn’t there, nevertheless I was grateful for this helpful padding. I had to start thinking as a fourteen year-old and not as a needy toddler but wasn’t sure if I could pull it off. Regardless of auntie’s attempts to make that transition un-traumatic, that first day at school proved to be a disaster as I sat in the nurse’s office, in my soaked pants, waiting for her to come and get me. # To be continued… Part 9 The night before school my mind had been working overtime. All I could think (and partially dream) about was my life at the different ‘educational’ establishments I’d attended since I was young. Alas, as I tossed and turned with each invading reflection, the thick night time diaper that held me tightly didn’t offer the soft comfort I’d come to expect. # At three years old I had been potty trained by my mother and then, with her part in my development done, sent off into the world. At that first ‘nursery/crèche/kindergarten’, I have no idea what it was, but what I did eventually get to know was that I was away from my ‘loving’ mommy and daddy and not a happy child. My first and main recollection from that time was that I wet myself constantly. The people looking after me seemed to focus on the fact I was wetting rather than the why and so kept me in diapers the entire time I was there. In between brief visits from my parents, after which I would cry for days, I was kept clean and fed but for me, and the other toddlers (I was not alone), each day followed the same timetable; a diet of dynamic learning, followed by unhappiness, followed by more learning. If we played at all… that particular memory escapes me… but that austere and unloving place literally scared the shit out of me. As if to prove it, my potty training reversed and my diaper was constantly full. # In those half-dreams and fevered recollections I could still feel that dense rough diaper irritating with each movement. Together with the noisy crack of the thick, almost unyielding plastic pants that held it in place felt like I was encased in granite. I wriggled unhappily under my nursery print covers, thankful at least auntie always made sure my protection was soft and comfortable, though, because of my agitated dreams, at that moment I wasn’t particularly enjoying such consideration. # When I reached the age of five I was moved to another private school. It took pride in the fact its ‘student’ body was prepared for senior school and so, ‘education, education, education’ was its main (and I would say only) priority. Here at least I wasn’t kept in scratchy diapers, which to some degree I eventually grew out of with just an occasional nocturnal lapse. However, the school wasn’t equipped for these little lapses and I (like anyone else who suffered a wet night) was ridiculed and ostracised and made to wear protection in class for the entire following day. The other kids never let such an opportunity pass so I was fair game for any grade to mock and be made fun of. By the time I was approaching my tenth birthday I’d learned to hide any toiletry hiccups so to all intents and purposes I’d grown out of that ‘problem’. At the same time my abilities were recognised when academically at least I easily came top of the class. This was when my parents broke the news that I was to sit another exam in the UK to further my education. Stupidly I assumed they would be in England too, it wasn’t to be. # These dreams, thoughts and often unpleasant images raced through my active brain whether I was asleep or awake and by morning I was severely wet and half dead to the world. # The morning wasn’t helped after auntie stripped me out of my soaked protection but, after a shower, the ritual I so looked forward to was denied. Not that auntie would do anything to upset me but, this was a new opportunity that I was encouraged to take. So, no lotions or powders or soft fluffy disposable taped snugly into place. No slinky vinyl slowly fed up my legs, slipping deliciously over my thighs to grip my waist in a welcoming manner. The nursery held the clothes I wanted but the clothes I was to wear were in the ‘other room’ and I had to fortify myself from that moment - I had to get back into teenage mode. Of course auntie had laid out my wardrobe for the day; right on top was a little pair of pull-ups that we’d spoken about. She knew I was a bit nervous about staying dry so we agreed to this little ‘help’ to be worn under my underpants. It wasn’t the same but their slight rustle and full crotch was most welcome under the rest of my school clothes. # I caught the bus to school like so many other kids and, apart from one or two who knew me and were whispering, looking and giggling in my direction, the journey passed off without much to report. I’d entered the school grounds with a slight crinkle and a great deal of apprehension. I saw Yoosuf talking to a group of girls, waved and then looked around for the familiar face of Oliver but couldn’t see him. # There was no set ‘uniform’, social or educational, and everyone appeared to be wearing what they liked. I’d chosen a pair of fawn coloured chinos over my slight protection, a green polo shirt, trainers and had my backpack slung over one shoulder… I thought I blended in quite well. Not overly smart but not slovenly either. There were several boys wearing shorts, but nearly all wore them long and baggy so definitely not my style. The girls were a completely different story and seemed to form into groups who all dressed the same. However, that was just a first impression as I gazed around at my new school buddies. Then I spied a familiar face coming through a group of noisy students who were standing at the gate. # He was nodding to everyone, even folk I suspect he didn’t know, but when our eyes met he waved and made straight towards me. The thing was I was spellbound. He was wearing a pair of khaki shorts and an AC/DC t-shirt… it was a young Colin come to life from one of the images in auntie’s photo album. Stunned by this apparition I couldn’t move. I wanted to say something, I wanted to greet my friend, I wanted to acknowledge, well, I wasn’t sure what – because for that one shocking moment Oliver looked exactly like Colin, the only difference from the photo was the logo on the t-shirt. He came up and hugged me like a long lost friend and I was so overcome, my bladder gave way and I pissed my pants. Not just a little, but a flow so strong that it deluged my pull-up and a tell-tale stain radiated from my groin. If it hadn’t been for Oliver’s quick action the first impression I would have made at school was as a pants wetter. # He was surprised that I didn’t reciprocate the hug but when he pulled back he noticed my pants. Quick as a flash, and before anyone else could see, he pulled off his backpack and held it in front of my rapidly expanding stain. To be honest, I wasn’t really aware of what I’d done and it wasn’t until Oliver was guiding me towards the main building that I realised what had happened. The spreading damp radiating from my groin was not the nicely warming experience it would have been in a diaper. I was full of apologies but Oli just smiled and said, “Wow, nobody’s ever been that pleased to see me.” He seemed to know his way around the school and we ended up at the nurse’s office. She came out to see who her first patient of the day was and, as the bell had just gone, dismissed Oli back to class. I sat there trying to explain how I was taken by surprise by his enthusiastic hug but the nurse, Nurse Jefferson, wasn’t convinced. She noticed something that no one else had mentioned. She said that I spoke like a little boy. Well, to be honest, she didn’t say that exactly but the way she responded to my words left me in no doubt. I hadn’t realised that my speech had been so defined by my time at Rainbow and I suppose, those who knew me, especially auntie, just thought that’s the way I spoke. It hadn’t bothered me until Nurse Jefferson mentioned it but now I was at High School, with wet pants and sounding like a baby… things definitely needed to change. # My pants were a mess and there was no way I could walk around school looking like I did. She spoke to someone on the phone, who I assumed was the principal, checked something on her computer and then phoned auntie. My pull-up hadn’t been as efficient as hoped and I could see Nurse Jefferson wondering what action to take. Before she had chance to come to any conclusion the phone rang and she was obviously receiving further information as she kept looking up at me and agreeing to what was being said down the phone. “Oh I see.” She listened “Right.” There was more. “Well that explains…” Something was said and agreed upon. She eventually wandered over and asked in a soft cajoling whisper you’d use with an infant if I needed any help and did I want a change. I was taken by surprise at her suggestion, and even though at that particular moment I would have loved a change, the thought of a fluffy disposable hugging my groin making me wriggle in anticipation, I said “No”. I didn’t want it to get around that on my first day I’d wet my pants, had to see the nurse and she’d diapered me. I needed to keep that a secret for a while longer… or so I thought. # Not long after auntie arrived with a bag of dry clothes but before I could change we were called into the principal’s office. He seemed a nice man but was obviously a little perplexed at what he was reading; it was a report from the psychiatrist. I’d not thought this far ahead and for the second time that day I was shocked, with the result that, unfortunately, I wet myself even more. This was not going well and I couldn’t fathom where all this pee was coming from. As the dark stain on my chinos spread further the principal noticed and requested I immediately go and see the nurse while he and auntie talked. Auntie passed me the bag with my clean clothes and I reluctantly left the room clutching it tightly to my groin for the few yards journey to the nurse’s office. # When I arrived she was very business-like. “Right, let’s get you organised and into something dry shall we?” I knew I looked like a stupid little kid, which of course I normally didn’t mind, but confronted by this particular lady, I felt feeble and inadequate. The folk at Rainbow just changed me like they would any other infant but here, at High School, I was no longer a happy, playful toddler but a teenage student who’d wet his pants. “Take off your pants,” she paused, “or would you prefer I do it?” There was no malice in her voice just a question. Since I’d been with auntie I was used to doing as instructed so slowly unbuttoned the top of my chinos and let them drop to the floor. She could see the expanded pull-up bulging out behind my underpants and indicated they needed to come off as well. Standing there in my soggy pull-up and stained underpants it just didn’t feel real. I hadn’t been wearing any extra plastic protection so my pee had not been well contained. Being changed at Rainbow (or at home) was a process I wasn’t involved in, somebody else made the decision and it just happened. My involvement was… She pulled the squelchy mass down. “OK Dean, I’m going to clean you up, then rub in some lotion, powder and fit a diaper… any questions?” I just shrugged. I was in a sort of dream world, which I knew I liked but at that moment found particularly alien. # She had me lie out on a low table, which I wasn’t sure could support my weight but, as she’d covered the entire thing in a loose piece of blue absorbent paper (I’d seen something similar on the doctor’s examination table), I did as I was told. “Good boy,” she said as I climbed up, my naked lower half reacting to the cool air conditioning of her office. “Now I’ll just check the bag and see what mommy, er, Miss Marsden has brought.” Jeans, a clean shirt, socks and a fresh pair of boxers were laid out on another table, eventually she found what she was searching for, a fresh disposable. “Ah, here we go.” She slowly and meticulously unfurled it and slipped it under my bottom. There was a look of understanding on her face and it suddenly struck me that she might know of my parent’s dramatic death and was being sympathetic. She then reached for some wipes, lotion and powder, which she conscientiously applied to my hair-free pubic area before fastening me in. I’m not sure how many fourteen year-old boys she’d had to diaper in her time as a nurse but as she cleaned me up I thought she smiled and nodded approval at my a/c shrunken pee-pee and hairless genital area. “Mmmm sensible… and no sign of a rash… good, good.” She said half to herself and half to me. She smoothed in the lotion and my pee-pee began to react but, like the ladies at Rainbow, it was completely ignored as she pulled the disposable into place. Any raging hormones that a healthy teenage boy might have were dismissed as I was really just a ‘little boy’ so treated as such. Once I was tightly enclosed she delved into the bag once more and found a pair of opaque plastic pants, which she shuffled up my legs. She did it all with such care that I found myself relaxing and beginning to enjoy her attention. After that was completed she had me sit up and checked that everything fitted correctly; smoothing the plastic pants down over the diaper and making sure I was well tucked in and leak-proof. # She stood back to appreciate her work and smiled. Whether that was because of a job well done or the fact that my slinky plastic pants could be seen dangling below my polo shirt I wasn’t too sure. “OK Dean,” she seemed satisfied, “put the rest of your clothes back on and put the wet stuff in this plastic bag.” She indicated a black bin bag on another table. “Sit over there and wait until the principal and your mommy, er, Miss Marsden finish their conversation.” Perhaps she wasn’t being sympathetic about the death of my parents, maybe she thought she was dealing with a teenager who was somewhat ‘challenged’. She spoke to me as if I was slow, or a toddler and I moved from enjoying the process to resenting it a bit. Although I was happier now I was padded and protected I wondered about how late I was for my first class. What excuse could I come up with? What did anyone know? Had anyone noticed? What, if anything, has Oliver said? Perhaps more importantly, would anyone notice my padded butt? “Don’t I need to be in class?” I queried. “Yes you do but the principal will need to have a word before you go.” “Ohhh.” # Ten minutes later and auntie emerged from the principal’s office looking worried. “Are you OK sweetie?” She was concerned about me. I nodded and looked down at my padded crotch and shrugged. Nurse Jefferson smiled and said that I’d been a very co-operative boy and that everything had been taken care of and, if the principal had finished with me, I needed to get to class. There was a slight rustling sound as I got to my feet and auntie hugged me and patted my cushioned bottom. She rubbed it slightly and I felt most reassured by both the padding and auntie’s tender touch. She looked at me and said we’d talk when I got home. I was a bit apprehensive as it looked like she had something serious to say but getting to my new class was made a priority as the principal’s secretary came out with a note I had to give to the teacher. # “Sorry I’m late sir,” I handed Mr Brown the note, “I’m afraid I had to see the principal first…” I wanted to say more, to come up with a plausible excuse but he just nodded to a seat next to Oliver and thanked me for being polite. I hadn’t realised I had been but I suppose, even after all this time, the manners and attitude of an English private school, had some effect. A chorus of derision from a few of the students followed Mr Brown’s compliment, which thankfully drowned out the rustling noise my protection made as I sat down. Oli was all smiles as he passed me a photocopied timetable list of subjects and extra-curricular activities and again I got the impression he completely understood. # After such a god awful start to the day I have to say, it got better. When I say it got better, I mean nobody noticed, or if they did they didn’t say anything, so from then on, for me it was a pretty good first day. Now I was over my initial shock of seeing Oliver/Colin I realised that they weren’t all that alike after all although they were dressed similarly. I have to say Oli looked great in his shorts, his young blond hairy legs showed he was maturing way faster than I was. In fact, because of the special lotion auntie used at bath time, all my bodily hair had vanished. Next to Oli I looked like a little immature five year-old but it didn’t seem to worry him and we spent most of the day in each other’s company. Motioning towards his t-shirt I asked him if he was a fan of AC/DC. He just shrugged and said he liked the logo but had to admit he wasn’t keen on their music although his father was a huge fan. He confessed that he, his brother and sister grew up in a house that was filled with rock music. Even as a baby he fell asleep to the riffs of Motorhead, AC/DC and most heavy metal bands his dad played all the time. Apparently his parents had met at a rock festival in their home town and he was a result of that first drug-fuelled night of metal debauchery. Thankfully his mom and dad were “really into each other” (his words) so they married two months before he was born. He was very enthusiastic about his parents saying that they’d never had two dimes to rub together but both worked hard and brought up him, his younger brother and sister, pretty well. # It was great for me to hear somebody who actually liked his parents and not only that was vocal about it. On that first day I learned so much about Oliver but every time he asked about my life I slunk into babbling and avoiding the subject apart from telling him I now lived with my auntie and that I’d moved from DC. Not quite AC/DC but halfway there, I pathetically joked! I simply wasn’t sure what to tell him. I doubted he’d be interested in hearing about life at a private school in England, I was positive he wouldn’t want to know about my ‘super important’ parents and I definitely wasn’t sure I could share my diaper wearing ways with him. Because he hadn’t mentioned it I assumed he didn’t know, or hadn’t noticed, the bulkiness in my jeans. However, just as I was boarding my bus he patted my bottom and smiled. “Perhaps tomorrow you’ll tell me about this?” I was stunned but his effortless grin said I should trust him… and why wouldn’t I? So far he’d saved me from total embarrassment and he’d appeared to have kept my secret. So, my journey home was filled with thoughts about just what I wanted to explain the following day… and did I in fact want to share any of this information? # To be continued… Part 10 Auntie Joan had been working from her den at home. She’d had quite a lot of paper work regarding Rainbow and perhaps even more after what happened at school. However, she’d said that we needed to talk and I was keen to get whatever the ‘problem’ was out of the way as soon as possible. “Ah Doodle,” she greeted me caringly at the door, “how did the rest of the day go?” I shrugged and slipped the backpack off my shoulder and onto the floor. “I’m sorry sweetheart, it wasn’t the best way to start a new school,” she added sympathetically. “It’s OK.” She put her arm around me and pulled me in for an embrace that always made me feel good. She kissed the top of my head and patted my padded bottom and asked if I needed a change. Despite the fact that I’d been wearing them since the morning, I’d resolutely kept myself from peeing in them. I tried to control my bladder as much as possible and I think I succeeded… well to some degree anyway. “Not yet, erm, er, you said in the nurse’s office that we needed to talk, er, can we do it now please?” I was feeling a bit apprehensive and a little afraid. I had no idea what the psychiatrist had said in his report but, after what I’d done, I wasn’t too hopeful. Also, on the journey home I’d begun to think that, if like the nurse, the principal thought I might somehow now be a bit mentally ‘challenged’, perhaps they would put me in a lower grade. There was a load of rubbish and doubt flowing through my mind and I urgently needed auntie to help sort it out. I needed to know what was happening. # She guided me through to the sofa and we sat down, my padding crinkling slightly as I made myself comfortable. “Now then,” she cleared her throat. “Mr Thomson (the Principal) has a bit of a problem with you.” She looked to see if that information alone would get a reaction. “Although your school report from England was positive… the psychiatrist report was not particularly positive… and blamed me for your unconventional behaviour.” She seemed to just cast that idea off with a ‘well he would wouldn’t he?’ shrug. “According to his professional opinion – You…” She raised her eyebrows as if to emphasise the point. “…apparently reacting to my need to keep you in protection, had adopted some strange juvenile habits, which he was keen to point out might ‘flare’ up at any moment.” I looked at her and saw a look of resignation on her face. “They think because I run The Rainbow Rooms Nursery…” she took a deep breath, “for me to cope with the sudden arrival of a heart-broken teen ‘still bereaving the loss of his parents’ I need to see you no different from the other children I look after.” She shrugged and raised her eyebrows again as if to say, ‘that’s what the psychiatrist thinks’. I shook my head and mumbled that it simply wasn’t true. She hugged me tightly. “We know the truth but because of your reluctance to tell him everything, and be quite defensive when talking about me, they think I’m the problem.” “Ooh.” “I’ve tried to explain things to both the psychiatrist and to the principal but the outcome is…” She paused and I don’t think it was for dramatic effect. “…they want us to see a different family psychiatrist and get another appraisal.” I still wasn’t too sure what this all meant but a sudden thought struck me. “They can’t send me away… can they?” The very idea sent me into a panic and the flow to my diaper was matched by the deluge of tears running down my face. “Ohh auntie, please don’t let them send me away. I don’t want to go back to that horrible school. Please don’t let them…” My sobbing was reaching a hysterical level as the flood of tears soaked auntie’s dress as she tried her best to comfort me. # At that moment I felt like a little boy who had no control over anything. I was grateful for the unconditional love that auntie gave me and anxious that I in no way compromise what she did for me. However, as I wept I couldn’t help but realise that my life now appeared to be in more than just auntie’s hands. I wasn’t old enough to take complete control. I wasn’t in a position to make demands because there would always be someone (like that damned psychiatrist), who, no doubt full of good intentions and thinking of what was only right for me, didn’t get who I was and what I wanted. Rainbow had offered me a fun and completely different way of life. I know my education more or less stopped but I was learning something from my fellow toddlers that I hadn’t learned before… friendship. I was happy to throw myself into anything that other kids wanted to involve me in instead of being the self-centred, aloof student I’d been at any of my previous schools. I felt I’d blossomed in that environment and although I didn’t want to leave it, knew I had eventually to get back to a more conventional education. After feeling quite good being at senior school and having a friend in Oliver, I now felt totally useless. The confidence and esteem building auntie had done tumbled around me and I wanted to retreat to where I knew I was safe. It took some time but eventually my tears dried up, alas my diaper was soaked through. Auntie noticed and recommended that we do something about it. My safe space. # On the changing table up in the nursery auntie got to work with her usual efficiency. As she cleaned me up she added another of the stipulations from the principal – ‘when at school I needed to wear protection at all times’. He was firm with auntie about this requirement, he said he was not going to have an ‘accident’ like the psychiatrist experienced in his classrooms or anywhere else on school property. To make sure I complied with this instruction I would be obliged to visit the nurse every morning to be checked before I’d be allowed into any class. I didn’t know a lot about psychiatrists but thought that info about my ‘accident’ in his office should have remained confidential, why was it in a report to the principal. Apparently, word had got around from the next patients, it was a small town and gossip was at a premium. So, despite my trying to be a fourteen year-old student they were determined to keep me in diapers. I wasn’t sure whether to be happy or sad about this news. However, as auntie wrapped me snuggly in a fresh disposable, snapped a new pair of pink plastic pants into place and guided me to the open closet filled with my toddler clothes, surprisingly, I resented that the school was insisting what I wear. # At school in the UK I’d only wet intermittently, although, since the news of my parent’s deaths it appeared that more often than not my mind just couldn’t be bothered sending any message to my bladder when I needed to go to the bathroom. During the day, since auntie had tried to get me back into ‘big boy’ briefs, my toilet training had been reasonably successful because I was more aware of what was needed. However, as I slept, there was no such discipline. Almost every morning I woke up wet, and I have to say, it didn’t worry me at all; I loved it when auntie changed my soaked diaper. That morning intimacy was something I’d never experienced with anyone else before. When I was young and wet at school the ‘nurses’ just did their job, there was no love or connection from either me or them but with auntie it was so different. Even though I wasn’t a toddler she took time and effort in making sure I was happy. She talked and we giggled, she powdered and I’d wiggle, she slipped me into a comfy diaper and I was grateful. I was grateful because the soft, fluffy, thick, reassuring diaper was an extension of auntie’s love. Maybe that was the trouble. Maybe I’d gotten too reliant on having that circle of love surrounding my groin. However, I couldn’t let auntie take the blame for my dependency because of her devotion in making me a complete human being. I had to explain to any new psychiatrist that because of auntie’s methods I was becoming less insular and more able to deal with the real world, even if that had meant almost restarting my development from scratch. # However, the more I thought about it being a terrific plan, I wasn’t sure I had the right words or attitude not to make things worse when I spoke, or worse still, nervously pee myself in that kind of official company. I knew I got angry. I’d displayed that anger in the psychiatrists office and look how that turned out. I was angry that I was feeling angry, which can’t be a good place to be but… as I wriggled in my diaper and closed my eyes briefly; I could feel the stress evaporate. There was safety in my diapers. At Rainbow and with auntie of course, I never thought about authority. I was like the rest of the kids, the adults were in charge and decisions were made on our behalf. I never thought that those decisions were made to make anything but us toddler’s lives better and more fun. They kept us clean and happy, fed and entertained; it was strange that I felt more of a real person at Rainbow than I ever did anywhere else. Certainly with my parents I’d never felt anything more than a visitor just passing through their lives, in England I felt detached and lonely, despite the teachers best efforts to include me in everything. I think I was too far gone by the age of ten and rejected everything but study. I had begun to shun intimacy in any form as a protection, I suppose, a bit like the protection auntie let me wear. I felt safe when I was protected. # I satisfied myself on the notion I was quite bright. Obviously on many levels I didn’t come close but my high grades told a different story. I’d used my inner anger for quite some time to justify why I, Dean Court, was the way I was. I thought I was an individual. I thought I was clever in my independence. I even thought my bedwetting was somehow proof that (even as a boy) I was my own man. Stupid, Stupid STUPID! My anger would never appear valid it would be seen as a childish tantrum rather than any cogent argument I wanted to present. Somehow I needed to keep that rage under control like it was at Rainbow. I’d never once felt anything but happiness there and somehow I’d have to transfer that pleasure to my day to day existence in High School. Perhaps the diapers might be the solution, or if not, at least a helpful soft and fluffy hug when I felt my annoyance rising. # I grabbed a pink t-shirt and a pink and blue pair of shorts from the closet and wondered downstairs to join auntie for our meal. As always she could see I was in some kind of quandary and wanted to help, the thing was, I just didn’t want to think grown up stuff when I was in my toddler clothes. I needed them to escape from… “Sweetheart,” She looked concerned. “I wish I could lift all this stress off your shoulders.” I sat at the table toying with my food. I knew I shouldn’t, she’d made me a lovely meal, but I just couldn’t raise any enthusiasm for it. Again the feeling of inadequacy swamped my head… and… there was something else that came and bit me on the bum… I realised I’d become a whiney little kid who was using any excuse to justify my behaviour. Auntie had said some time ago that there would be times when I wanted to be a toddler and there were times when I needed to be fourteen. I had to separate these two different sides of my personality and it was proving very difficult. That night auntie and I tried, in between cuddles, to map out some kind of strategy… and I’d have to find a way to contend with any comments from other students once they found out I wore diapers. Wearing diapers wasn’t a worry for me as my general lack of concern over what anyone else thought about me, or what I chose to dress in, had armed me pretty well. I knew that if they didn’t get a rise or embarrassment out of me they would soon stop any comments. However, there were always going to be bullies and my diapers might just be like a red rag to a… bully. # That night I dreamed of bullies and Oliver. Well I say Oliver but at times he was both him and Colin. It was perhaps strange that at times they both melded into one; though I’m thankful that each time that happened they/he was still my friend. The bullies had striped me naked and were running around throwing my diaper to one and other as I played an unhappy ‘piggy-in-the-middle’. Meanwhile, ‘Coliver’ was desperately trying to retrieve it but was having no luck over these older and bigger boys. Eventually, having tired of calling me names and seeing my pee-pee wobble back and forth in the middle of the playground, they left, taking with them my protection and leaving me naked below the waist. ‘Coliver’ searched around until we were alone and then surreptitiously delved into his backpack and produced a fresh clean disposable. I was shocked but with a nervous smile he said, “I’ll always have your back.” He helped me into it and wearing just that diaper I went back to class. It was embarrassing to some degree but, as everyone knew about my diapers by then, it wasn’t a big deal. # The following morning I woke up dry. Yes, one of the few occasions when this happened although my bed was a mess from all the tossing and turning I’d done during my dream. With my sheets in a tangle and pillows thrown onto the floor I’d woken up slightly disorientated and worrying about bullies lying in wait. I mistook my teddy bear, looming in the corner of the bed as a possible antagonist and thrown out my fist in a pathetic attempt at a punch. Teddy looked pretty annoyed at what I’d done and auntie came in and found me bouncing him up and down on my plastic bulge frantically apologising for hurting him. I wasn’t sure if this was quite the way for a fourteen year-old high school student to be acting but I suppose neither was auntie stripping me from my diaper, sharing my joy at being dry and sending me off to see to my morning ablutions. When I returned my boxers had been replaced with a disposable and a pair of clear plastic pants. I suppose so that the nurse and anyone else who might need proof could see I was well protected. “Do you want to try and do it for yourself?” Auntie asked quietly from the door. Over the time I’d been in diapers I had made one or two attempts at fitting myself but it just seemed such an operation and far better if someone else saw to it. “Can you do it please auntie. I, er, prefer it when you do, er…” She smiled and did what she always did… she made me feel safe and secure both mentally and physically. # To be continued Part 11 Strange to say but Rainbow and the private school in the UK had more in common than I thought. It certainly wasn’t the uniform (ha-ha) but attitude; neither tolerated bullying to take place. At Rainbow, if there was an argument or some conflict (usually over a toddler wanting to play with a toy someone else was already enjoying) it was frowned upon by the adults who would settle the disagreement by speaking with the aggressive party and not condone such behaviour. Often the dispute would end with a “Sowwy” and both parties would end up playing happily together. At the school in England a similar tactic was enforced (apart from the “Sowwy”), bullying was efficiently discouraged, with the older students taking it as part of their function not to allow such behaviour to go unchallenged. As a result, bullying in both institutions was not prevalent and if it happened, was quickly neutralised. # School settled down fairly quickly. I had my early morning checks with Nurse Jefferson and she would call the principal to confirm I was well-padded so, once she got the “OK” from him I was allowed to go to class. My new, self-imposed uniform of long pants and un-tucked in shirt or long jumper, more or less hid the bulkiness from view so wasn’t a source of comment. I did smell sweet from the baby powder but I suppose everyone had their own ‘smell’ so mine wasn’t thought of as anything in particular. The crinkle and creak of my plastic pants was there but nobody appeared to be that concerned. All in all I thought I was fitting in surprisingly OK. # As I’ve mentioned, wearing diapers doesn’t worry me in the least and even after I’d told Oliver the reason he was still my friend. In fact, the more I told him the closer we became. Over those first few days, after auntie had explained that I might actually enjoy sharing with a friend, I never shut up. Oliver was keen to hear everything and was a terrific listener and a guy who didn’t hide his own emotions. When I told him about my parent’s dramatic death he appeared more upset than I’d been. Oddly enough, his reaction set me off and I think for the first time I cried for my parents and not for myself. This, I realised too late, was a mistake because emotionally at least, my bladder was in complete sympathy and let flow. My diaper gave me that warming glow and Oli wondered why I’d gone quiet but for some reason this felt different. I looked at Oli and realised that he was the first person I’d ever really shared such a deep moment with. Of course there was auntie but Oli was… a… friend, my first real friend, and I wasn’t sure how to react. Why I should have been nervous I have no idea but he gave me a gentle hug and smiled so I knew all was well. I didn’t visit the nurse immediately but knew eventually I’d have to go and get changed. Despite the lotions and powder she applied, auntie had warned me about wearing a wet diaper for too long so a quick change was advised. # Oliver did say something that I found arresting. After hearing that my wetting apparently increased after my parent’s deaths, perhaps, he thought, I’d been affected more than I understood, maybe even subconsciously. Now where a fourteen year-old could get such an insight from I do not know but it certainly set me thinking. # My new best friend was a constant amazement. Because of his working class background I had assumed, very wrongly as it turned out, that he’d struggle in class. Not a bit of it. Like me he was way ahead of just about everyone else in the 9th Grade. However, unlike me his was a natural intelligence, whereas mine was bought and paid for at special private learning facilities. In those first few days he was a constant surprise and I began to rely on his friendship pretty heavily as I negotiated my way through an unfamiliar educational system. For those first few days wearing my protection I managed to remain almost dry, what little trickled out was easily soaked up so wasn’t noticeable. However, after that emotional discussion involving the death of my parents, and Oliver’s comment, the deluge was intense and I was really glad that auntie had made sure I wore some very strong rubber leak-proof pants that day. I don’t know if she gets a sixth sense about this type of thing but she had me well protected when I needed it most. # Nurse Jefferson I think still regarded me as a little ‘special’ and treated me as such. On the few occasions I had to visit her she was all smiles and cheerfulness and definitely talked down to me but not in a patronising way. Now, you may have thought I resented this but in fact, it made me laugh. She certainly wasn’t like auntie when she changed me but she was nothing like the other ‘nurses’ who had tended to my wet diapers in the past. She was fun, helpful and sympathetic… if on a slightly different level. She would often engulf me in powder. “Just to keep you smelling sweet.” And take some delight making sure I was well tucked in and my plastic pants didn’t inflate too much as she pulled them over the disposable. She was keen that I wasn’t embarrassed by anything she did. However, sometimes she added a separate thick layer of padding if I’d had a particularly thorough soaking. “Just to be on the safe side.” She’d say with a final pat to my cushioned bottom. I’d thank her for all the attention (my English public school politeness coming to the fore again) and she would say, “Thank you your Lordship” and chuckle to herself. # Thanks to Oliver (I hardly had much contact with Yoosuf, who, as suspected, had become a prime target for a lot of girls, which he loved), I was able to integrate a lot easier than I’d originally thought I would. A few of the other students had also been to Rainbow Rooms Nursery as kids so auntie was well known and despite my unorthodox first few months in town, once folk knew I was her nephew other people started to talk to me. I had been noticed around town in my ‘childish’ clothes and some of my peers (and others) let their thoughts be known. They assumed I was a “retard”, or at least that was then impression I’d given. “A f*cking freak” was another observation from a tenth and eleventh Grade groups of kids. Others thought I must be a foreign exchange student because of my accent (and politeness), whilst a few appeared to know of my dramatic story and offered sympathetic looks and the occasional sigh (although that was mainly from girls). The boys tried to get me involved in their games but I was still having difficulty in applying myself to this new situation, thankfully Oliver smoothed the way and under his guiding hand I mixed relatively well. When one boy questioned me about the short shorts he’d seen me wearing out and about in town with auntie I was a bit stuck for an answer until Oliver came to the rescue. “Oh, yes, I need to get myself some of those,” he smiled as if he was in the know. “They are trending in Europe as the next big fashion…” He let me add my piece. “MTV Europe is all over it.” I couldn’t believe I was saying this in an overly emphasised British manner. “I may be the first to bring this style to this fair town but I doubt I’ll be the last.” There were a few nods of approval, or at least understanding, although a few other boys sniggered, joyfully ridiculed me and said they’d never wear something that babyish. At least Oliver’s quick mind had dug me out of a hole I could so easily have slipped into… perhaps never to return? I sighed with relief. # To begin with, after each new day of school I couldn’t wait to return to 46 Glendew Lane and resume my toddler life. I’d rush up to the nursery and pull off my school clothes and wait for auntie’s return to properly fit me in my diaper. The intimacy was all part of my happy journey back to the place I liked the best and, bless her heart, auntie was happy to oblige. However, once I’d got to know Oliver better I’d arrive home and wasn’t quite as quick to change. In fact I’d go into the ‘other room’ and turn on the computer (something I hadn’t done for absolutely ages) and either play games or catch up on the loads of stuff that had accumulated there since I’d arrived at auntie’s house. Before I knew it auntie would be calling me down for the evening meal and I’d be still dressed as if I’d just gotten in. She never said anything about this only asking me about the day and how teachers and other kids were treating me. I couldn’t complain. She seemed OK with this news and didn’t push for further details. After the meal, and I’d helped with some chores, I returned to the ‘other room’ to finish my homework. # I’d slept in there a few times but still regarded the nursery as my main bedroom however, as I stripped down to get ready for bed the urge to stay there was strong. I stood in front of the mirror wearing just my protection, which was bunched up but only slightly damp, and wondered if I wanted this as much anymore. There was little doubt that, as I ran my hands over the glossy, slippery plastic surface, the bulkiness under my pants felt as wonderful as ever. The tremble of comfort they offered was there but… I wasn’t sure why but I thought, well, I didn’t know what I thought… but there was certainly some doubt in my mind. Perhaps wearing a diaper for ‘big school’ (I giggled at the very idea of that name) was not what I really wanted. I wriggled out of my protection and slipped into the shower. When I returned I was expecting auntie to be there to make sure I was well diapered for the night but she wasn’t. With a white towel wrapped around my waist I wandered into the nursery and checked out all the things I liked so much. Touching the pile of diapers and running my fingers over the smooth array of plastic pants I caught sight of myself in the full-length mirror and saw that the towel still made it look like I was wearing a diaper. I smiled to myself… but it was decision time. # I moved over from the nursery into ‘my room’ and searched through the draws to find suitable PJs. Yes, I was giving this whole – being fourteen – a real good go and pulled on the type of nightwear I’d not worn since I’d arrived at aunties. Without the bulk of the diaper the pale blue cotton pyjama pants slipped around my waist with ease. It felt a bit strange and it didn’t seem right but, I was determined to be fourteen for the night. I pulled the covers up and for once wasn’t surrounded by cartoon characters or stuffed toys. My thumb waivered in front of my mouth for a second but I felt really tired and was about to go to sleep when auntie came in to say goodnight. “Are you OK Doodle?” She ran her hand through my short hair. “Yes auntie. I’m at High School now so…” She seemed to understand and gently kissed my head. “Sleep tight sweetheart.” She turned the light off and closed the door. # I didn’t remember dreaming but I must have slept very heavily because auntie was there rousing me for school. “C’mon Doodle; you’re going to be late if you don’t get a move on.” I lay there trying to get my slightly fuddled senses in order. Normally auntie has checked if I’m wet or not, but not this morning. She was drawing the blinds and letting in a rather grey looking morning. Gone was the sun that had been a feature of every day since I’d arrived and the clouds had gathered making the place appear very dull. Waking up like this, in my new bedroom, which wasn’t as bright or cheery as when I woke up in the nursery, left me feeling a little down. In fact, it took me longer than usual to motivate myself to get up but then my reflexes kicked in when I realised I was soaked. The sigh that left my throat unbidden attracted auntie’s attention. She saw the look of pained anguish on my face and rightly assumed what was wrong. “Doodle, don’t worry.” She was already coming over to hug and comfort me. “We can sort it out… no worries.” She knew I must have wet the bed but I was annoyed at trying to be a teenager without at least taking some precautions. “But auntie,” I sobbed, “I’ve ruined a new bed. I’m sowwy” The “sowwy” was unintentional but at that moment I felt like a silly little bedwetting kid, even though I’d done it hundreds of times, at that moment I felt I’d let auntie down. “Don’t worry sweetheart. There’s a waterproof cover over the mattress,” she let that info sink in. “So it’s only a few sheets and your PJs,” she smiled and ruffled my hair, “so no great disaster.” # I felt useless but auntie helped me up and out of bed, stripped it and me, then sent me off to shower. When I returned, auntie had changed and remade the bed and had my school protection ready. The changing mat and all the creams and powders were waiting so I just lay out and let her get on with it. “I suppose it’s back to the nursery for me?” I looked guiltily at her. “It’s up to you sweetheart. I think you have to try this room and give the nursery a miss for a while… but only if you want.” She smiled. “We can always wrap you up safely in here.” Her eyes darted around the room. “Perhaps a pull-up… or two… to begin with?” Her eyes raised to question if that would be acceptable. As she finished shuffling the plastic pants into place I nodded my agreement. “OK then, that’s what we’ll do. Come on, time’s running out and you’ll miss the school bus if you don’t get a move on.” # The first few weeks passed quickly although I was aware that it was a school enmeshed in a tense atmosphere. Unlike Rainbow and my English school, there were many cliques and divisions that appeared to flourish in such a huge and diverse environment. The school was the only High School in the region so had an enormous number of students, who were garnered from not only the town but all the smaller outlying areas. This produced a diversity of strange allegiances to various factions including; fashion, sport, clubs, family and rivalries between previous other schools. In the senior aspect of the school it was the ‘jocks’ that appeared to reign supreme. Unlike at the school in England, there was a lot of flaunting their success, no matter how local and parochial that success was. A great deal of fuss was made about even being on a team never mind if they actually won anything (which they hadn’t). I was amazed at the attitude of these people - their strutting and self-belief was, to my mind at least, undeserved and I couldn’t help but point that out to anyone who might listen to my view. Oliver suggested that, for the moment at least, as we were in an easily targeted age group (with absolutely no influence) I should curtail any negative opinions on the High School Broncos, or any of the other sports teams that infested the place. The football team were big and fearsome with apparently an absolute right to lord it over timid students, which was mainly everyone else. I hated to say it but the school in the UK just would not put up with such behaviour, where modesty in achievements was thought of in a positive manner. I remembered one of the ‘Old Boys’ from that school returning with an Olympic Gold medal, which we all (yes even me) were keen to touch. I’d never met a nicer, more unassuming man (in fact he must have only been a teenager) who had thanked and praised his peers, and school, for the encouragement they’d given him. Meanwhile… well… words failed me because I just couldn’t (without swearing) say what I thought of these unworthy, loud-mouthed bullies. # Meanwhile, at home I temporarily put the nursery ‘off limits’ on school days so my nights were spent in ‘my room’ wearing new PJs under which I wore a pair or two of pull-ups as a safety net (so to speak). A couple more times I flooded them and wet the bed but in general they seemed to work reasonably well. However, I did miss not having my slinky plastic pants on as stroking them before I dropped off both relaxed me, if I was feeling that way out, or made me hard, if my mind was working in a different direction. The thickness of the padding denying me access, which was frustrating but in a gloriously wonderful way, making the smooth outer coating seem all the more sensual. There is something quite special about certain vinyl pants. Some can be smooth, yet unyielding, thick and offer support but little comfort. However, some of the soft, opaque pants that I wore were so slinky and pliable that I sometimes couldn’t imagine not wearing them for the sheer emotional thrill their touch gave. I looked at myself many times in the mirror and was overjoyed to see the well-padded seat of my diaper enclosed in that smooth ductile material; the elastic legs gripping and holding everything tightly in place before I slipped on a pair of shorts or trousers. The thought of what I had on under those clothes had me in a constant state of secure pleasure. # Although my wetting at school was less than what I used to do at Rainbow, I still had some accidents. The principal was adamant that I’d not be allowed out of my protection until we’d seen the second psychologist and he’d had a report that I was ‘safe’ and in fairness, although I had no intention of messing all over the school, I still was having peeing problems. It was unfortunate that sometimes I got no warning of my bladder leaking until I was already in the process of flooding my diaper and of course by then any attempt to stop the flow was a useless act. On these occasions I’d visit Nurse Jefferson in the break and she would sort me out fairly promptly. Because it had become such a relaxed operation, and I was usually the only patient, it never occurred to me that others might use the facility. As I lay naked from the waist down an injured jock, straight from the playing fields, came bursting in holding a bloody rag to his equally bloody nose. He was a very big senior and I’m sure it was only because he’d been told to see the nurse that he hadn’t just carried on playing, blood or no blood. He saw this 9th Grader, me, lying out, buck naked and getting lotion rubbed into my hairless groin (I was still using the creams that auntie used in those first few days to prevent hair growth). He did a double-take as he saw the huge disposable being readied and the plastic pants waiting to be slipped up. It was as if all his prayers had been answered to make this journey to the nurse’s office worthwhile. He burst out laughing “Oh sorry nurse I didn’t know you were on baby-sitting duty.” He guffawed at his clever comment. “I’ll wait until his diapee is all snuggly-wuggly… I’m sure my bloody dripping nose can wait until after such an emergency.” “Now Kyle,” Nurse Jefferson responded. “I’ll only be a few more seconds so why not wait in the office and then I’ll see to you?” “Sure, sure.” He slowly backed out but not without taking in the final act of being taped into my disposable. “Get the kindergarteners sorted first… I’m sure nap time isn’t far off.” He was mumbling but making sure I heard every word. I was a bit embarrassed to say the least that my diaper change had been witnessed by one of the football fraternity and although I wished otherwise, I had a feeling this wasn’t going to be the last I heard about it. # Nurse Jefferson didn’t seem to be worried, or even acknowledge the disruption and happily carried on making sure my protection was in place. As I left the room the huge bloody hulking frame of Kyle was waiting just outside the door. “Well aren’t you just precious,” He delivered his words with both sarcasm and venom. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing a great deal of my sweet little baby girlie…” He patted my padded bottom. “That’s thick, thick padding for a thick, thick baby. Oh yes… she’s just right to be a playmate.” His voice was a mocking and threatening growl. I was angry at his words and that he’d feminised me but at that precise moment I was just too humiliated to come back with a witty reply. His bulk was very intimidating and as he entered the room I’d just exited he blew me a kiss and smeared more blood on his already bloody face. As the door slammed shut I shivered, wondering what hell I could expect from then on. # To be continued Part 12 Auntie Joan had received confirmation that our appointment with Dr Jayne Barrows, another psychologist, would happen in four weeks. Why it had taken so long to arrange I wasn’t sure (I suppose it showed the mental health of the state) anyway, that meant that for the next month at least I would have to continue to wear my protection for school. The principal insisted that I was still checked every morning and that any changes (should I wet) would be supervised by the nurse on duty, I was not to be allowed to change myself. I assumed this was some fear the school had of being sued should I develop a rash (or something worse) whilst in their ‘care’. I didn’t mind, I was used to having others take charge of my diaper change and I quite liked the fuss that surrounded this particular action. # Auntie had made it into an art. The care and attention paid to each part of the process always left me wriggling in pleasure. I know at fourteen I should be over that but in truth, it was the one thing that held me completely under its spell. The clothing… the childish clothing… was all well and good but the consideration auntie gave to my wellbeing with each wipe of the cloth, each tender touch as she applied the creams and lotions, the gentle loving sprinkle of the baby powder over my genitals and bum, were the things that made it all so special. The final firm fitting of the diaper was all part of a bonding experience I particularly enjoyed and so… was in no hurry to forego. # From the start Auntie Joan had let me go at my own pace, though I hadn’t realised it at the time, and to make my own decisions. She knew what I wanted, what I needed, and let me, with her encouragement, find what worked. The few months I’d spent as a little kid in her charge had been a complete revelation. I began to see things in a completely different way. My anger decreased, my self-imposed exile from the rest of the human race was broken and I’m sure I’d grown in such a way that my mind had been recalibrated. If this was what being ‘born again’ felt like, no wonder religious people praised it so much. Now I wasn’t religious in the least but this ‘glow’ from within was undeniable and it did indeed feel like something very special had happened deep inside. For me, auntie was the best psychologist in the world, even if she didn’t have a bunch of diplomas and degrees after her name. She’d rebuilt a fairly damaged boy and given him a future that wasn’t on a path of anger, isolation and possible self-destruction. I now found I had options that I would never have considered only a few months back. The diapers, as a simple wetting precaution at first, had proved to be the catalyst for my regeneration and I owed that simple piece of clothing everything I did now… and perhaps would do in future. # I’d worried about Kyle, the Hulk (as I thought of him) and the pleasure he’d taken in seeing my juvenile and diapered status, I began to ponder how he would set about using this to his ends. At the time, and despite just being changed into a fresh and dry disposable, the confrontation in the nurse’s office had un-nerved me and I’d wet myself instantly. So, for the rest of the day I was walking around with a very bloated diaper between my legs and decided I’d just put up with the inconvenience rather than return to Nurse Jefferson. I certainly didn’t want to meet him or any of his team buddies in that state of wetness. I’d had few ‘run-ins’ with this type of person and wasn’t sure how to react. In England, if you felt threatened by anyone or anything at school, you simply discussed it with a senior or teacher (whoever you were more comfortable talking with) and the problem would be resolved. Over those first few weeks at High School I hadn’t detected that type of intervention. Intimidation seemed rife and it appeared it was up to the individual to sort it out, make themselves invisible or just put up with it, whatever that ‘it’ might be. I knew jocks were a closely bonded group and they would mindlessly support each other so expected ‘The Hulk’ wouldn’t be the only one I’d have dealings with in the coming days. # I discussed what had happened with Oliver. Like me he saw possible problems ahead but was of the firm belief that telling a teacher or the principal was not the way to proceed. Because of what I’d experienced in the UK I couldn’t believe that a principal, or anyone else in a responsible position, wouldn’t want to nip such intimidation in the bud. However, Oliver just told me to “Look around”. He was right to underline what I’d already established; it was going on everywhere, openly and with no interference from anyone. If you defended some poor picked on junior, pretty soon you also became the object for intimidation. So far Oli and I had flown ‘under the radar’ (Oli’s words) but we did notice that Yoosuf had to cope with a great deal of jealousy from various groups of boys. He was good-looking, dressed well, confident and, with his dark looks, had a mysterious air to him that many at the school found both scary and exciting. For many generations his family had been part of the ruling classes in the Middle East, now there were barbed comments and graffiti calling him a ‘terrorist’. He tried his best to laugh these excesses off but I could see that at times he was struggling. He was subject to quite a number of personal provocations from seniors and junior thugs alike. # Typical of Oliver he was well aware of what was going on and despite the fact he was no ‘hard case from the block’ he hovered in Yoosuf’s proximity in case he needed any kind of support. He still maintained that our small group of three newcomers should stick together and that we should support one and other. On more than one occasion I saw him deftly insert himself between Yoosuf and some adversary and gently, almost as if it wasn’t planned, ease Yoosuf away. For some reason Oliver didn’t attract a negative reaction. He was friendly with everyone and despite being quite clever, never flaunted his superior knowledge and abilities over others. I suppose it helped that he never looked afraid of anybody, no matter how big or threatening they might appear. His humour, quick and clever talk and incredible affability made him instantly likeable. Also, he held his ground so as a result was not pushed around or picked on. Those who crumbled became victims. Whereas, Yoosuf and I were obviously different – his Persian looks and my ‘English’ accent, Oliver just mixed in well with the locals. Even after a very short time he was already well-liked by his classmates and had new friends who sought his company. I think when he hung around with either Yoosuf or me it put some people off a little, although I was still socialising and interacting more than I’d ever done before. # The day after my encounter with the Hulk it started… and it started with a grope to my padded bottom. “She’s well diapered… but probably wet… so no doubt needs to be.” He was talking to a couple of his equally hulking mates when we passed in the hallway and as I was retrieving some books from my locker. “She’s the little baby I was telling you guys about…” The molestation was forceful and I ended up being pushed up against the lockers as he patted my bottom and continued his vulgar juvenile comments. “Hairless and diapered… just like my shitty baby sister.” Those around looked on wondering what all this was about. “Yes siree, she sure has a fine ass…” He continued his fondling of my diapered bum. His mates found this hilarious and were laughing as if he’d just told the funniest joke ever. “Perhaps she’ll show us her little diapee when she goes bye-byes… or our little baby here gets nursey to change her?” With one final swat I was left half crammed into my locker and feeling shocked at what had taken place and that I hadn’t had chance to respond. When I finally extricated myself he and his mates were already gone and there was a look of both pity and pleasure from the assorted group who’d witnessed the event. I looked around the assembled faces and saw that there wasn’t one of them who would have intervened on my behalf and I even saw a teacher, who obviously having witnessed what had taken place and seemed embarrassed that I’d noticed him looking on, quickly made himself scarce. # Other than in the boxing ring at school in the UK I don’t think I’d ever had to fight anyone. Especially after a few months at Rainbow I simply wasn’t equipped to combat aggression. In my head I thought I’d be fearless but in truth, I was shaking like a leaf. The other result of this altercation was that I’d severely wet my diaper but once again didn’t want to give him the satisfaction (whether he was aware of it or not) that’s how my bladder reacted to such confrontation. I could feel the very bloated disposable filling out my pants but would have to wait until break to do anything about it, for now I still had class. At break, instead of going to the nurse I went to the principal’s office to lodge a complaint about Kyle’s behaviour. I got the brush off with an “I’ll speak with him”. There was nothing more I could do and the principal seemed to want me out of his office as quickly as possible. Whether that was from being worried I’d poo all over the place or that he just didn’t want bothering with, to him, such trivial matters, I’m not sure but I was speedily dismissed. # However, once home and in a safe environment the more I thought about it I was sure I’d be able to cope. I was in two minds whether to let auntie know but she had been fretting since I’d gone to High School that something like this might happen so I decided I should mention it… I hated keeping secrets from her. “Well, my diapers are no longer a secret.” I announced with a shrug. “Oh Doodle I am sorry… hope it wasn’t too traumatic…” I shrugged again and told her exactly what had happened. As always she listened carefully and I could see various emotions passing over her face and began to wonder if I’d done the right thing in bringing it up. “Oh darling, that’s a terrible experience. Do you want me to speak with the principal?” “No auntie it’s… fine… I’m sure all kids have to go through this type of thing and, if The Hulk wants to use my diapers as ammunition,” I smiled at the idea of my diapers being used as ammo, “there’s going to be very little anyone can do about it.” “Well dear, keep me informed, I need to know what’s going on with my sweet Doodle.” She gave me a hug. “Besides, you have a legitimate reason for wearing them and I say… screw anyone who has a problem with that.” I was surprised at auntie’s use of such a word and it set us both off giggling like three year-olds. # Now I could see certain aspects of my life in perspective, the idea of anyone ridiculing me for wearing diapers was not going to gain any embarrassment at my expense. If needed I would let the entire school know I wore protection… and even more so… was not in the least bit troubled by that fact. So, if he, or anyone else, thought they could benefit from any attempt to humiliate me in front of others I would have to play things on my terms and not theirs. Alas, the whole team seemed to now be in on the ‘joke’. I hardly went anywhere without one of them patting my bum or pulling at the rear of my pants “Just checking baby’s still dry” and gleefully saying babyish things as they passed by. Of course, their actions meant that it was a signal for others to act the same way and before long I could hardly step in the hallway or move to a different classroom without a barrage of comments and assaults. The name ‘diaper boy’ followed me everywhere; unfortunately it was never said as if referring to a Super Hero. # What started out as ‘playful’ banter got turned up several notches after the Bronco’s worst defeat of the early season. It appeared that I was the person the wounded team could lash out at and those ‘playful’ thumps became much more painful and the attacks more humiliating. Despite my continuing complaints the principal just didn’t want to know and, although he’d had a word with Kyle, nothing changed apart from him getting more and more aggressive. This had a knock on effect because I was continually wetting myself and every time I went to the nurse’s office, one of the team seemed to be ready to ridicule me in front of her. Nurse Jefferson took absolutely no notice of them but there again, she just didn’t seem aware of the damage their actions were doing to me and so, resentment settled in and I stopped going to her. My diaper would be full and leaking by the end of the day, through natural causes and through my distressed bladder. # My impotent anger was building and although I asked auntie to make sure my diaper had extra padding each morning I wasn’t sleeping well at nights and would wake up in the same state as when I returned home – soaking and irritable. She was adamant about speaking to the principal but I begged her not to intervene as I desperately wanted to sort this problem out for myself. After one particularly aggressive de-panting that left me wearing little more than my drenched diaper and ripped plastic pants (and perhaps could have been a lot worse if Oliver and Yoosuf hadn’t come to my rescue) I was quite devastated. There were looks of derision and sympathy from those who witnessed the event but no one of any authority stepped in to stop it. As I stood in the main school hallway in an obviously soaked diaper anyone who didn’t know before were now left in no doubt that ‘weird English kid’ wears pissy diapers. My pants had disappeared with the football team and I had to scramble around trying to find something else to cover my shame. Some girls offered me a skirt, but whether this was out of kindness or a further opportunity to embarrass me I was in no mood to find out. Thankfully Oliver arrived with a pair of gym shorts that I gratefully pulled over my demonstrably swollen diaper. My anger had returned. That anger that had me thrown out of the boxing club back in the UK and the one I’d reserved for my ‘thoughtless’ parents was bubbling in the pit of my stomach. It wasn’t helped by the fist that had connected there earlier from one of Kyle’s goons and, as there wasn’t going to be any adult intervention, I was going to have to sort it out for myself. Somehow I didn’t think that a polite note, or even a confrontation of the principal by auntie, would produce results so I decided that this diaper-wearing little baby was going to seek revenge. # Throughout my time at Rainbow I’d never been angry. I’d had toys taken from me by other toddlers and felt occasionally petulant but these feelings passed surprisingly quickly as I’d immerse myself (with the help of the staff) in some other enthralling game. However, my Rainbow time was now definitely at an end and although I still wore protection to sleep in I was determined to be a clever fourteen year-old student and not a wimpy, fourteen year-old victim. As auntie changed me and got me ready for bed she could tell I had something on my mind. I wanted to discuss it with her but was afraid that she would try and talk me out of my course of action. I also didn’t want her worrying, but of course she would. I slipped a pair of baggy boxers over my night time diapers and crawled into bed determined not to let Kyle and his cronies continue to infect my dreams. Auntie waited a few extra seconds at my bedroom door. I knew she knew that I had things on my mind and hoped that I would share them but this time I needed to do it without her help. # My dream was not quite what I anticipated. Indeed, not a sign of Kyle and his gang appeared but a potted history of my time at 46 Glendew Lane rolled out before me. The first time I wet myself in public, the first time auntie suggested I return to diapers, the quick way I embraced the entire idea of a return to some kind of positive childhood… The dream continued and at every turn I saw how reliant on auntie I’d been, how I was determined to be her ‘best little boy’, why I had taken to diapers so easily and come to rely on them for comfort and safety. The dream was an endless procession of why I had become what I’d become and the love that had guided that entire journey. Auntie Joan. Towards the end of my dream things got a bit more confusing. A few figures from my past began to interrupt proceedings. The feeling of happiness was being disturbed by teachers and pupils I had known in the past and who, despite their best intentions of friendship, I had snubbed. A tangle of emotions, and as it turned out, anger at myself, was eating fiercely into my subconscious and draining any comfort I’d been experiencing up until the moment when I awoke with a start. I wasn’t in the nursery, I hadn’t actually slept in there for a couple of weeks, but, as I woke up I desperately needed all those comforting signs that I associated with ‘happiness’. At that moment my bedroom felt austere and unwelcoming. The blues, greys and blacks echoing my mood and I wanted sunshine, colour, cartoons and fluffy animals. I threw back the covers and discovered a different sensation, I was dry. I didn’t quite believe it as I hadn’t had a dry morning for some time. I slowly pulled down my boxers and tentatively ran my hand over the slick plastic cover, it definitely didn’t feel bloated. I slipped them down and was surprised to find that, although the diaper had bunched up a little, it was completely dry. Shocked, I unpinned it and set it on my desk before wandering to the bathroom to get ready for the day. # My spirits rose as I showered and I thought about not wearing protection to school. I knew that I had to be inspected but I thought about ignoring that particular instruction and not visiting the nurse before attending class. Back in my room I searched for a pair of boxers and decided not to even wear a pair of pull-ups under them. When auntie came in and saw me wearing underwear and not protection I could see from her look she didn’t think it was a wise move. “I want to try a day without protection.” I was both explaining my stance and appealing for auntie’s understanding. “OK Doodle… but you know that Mr Thomson has already said you need to be protected…” “Yes, but, er, I don’t intend to see Nurse Jefferson, er, or the principal, I’ll just go straight to class.” She raised her eyebrows and left the final decision to me. # Half way through the first period of English I was summoned to the principal’s office. “Court.” Mr Thomson looked fatigued and annoyed. “Yes sir.” I maintained my composure and politeness. “Did you see the nurse this morning… as per my instructions?” “No sir.” “Why not?” “Because sir, I’m fed up with being treated as a child and it’s affecting…” “So,” he interrupted my flow and I could see he was heading towards a showdown “you have decided, unbidden by me, to take the rules I have set down and what, just ignore them?” “My wearing diapers to class sir has resulted in bullying and…” “Tell me Mr Court why you were wearing diapers in the first place.” He had me and he knew it. Reluctantly I had to give him the answer he already knew. “Because I occasionally wet myself sir.” It was a reply without the bravado I would have liked. “Wet… and MORE,” He emphasised the more. “And do you no longer wet yourself Mr Court?” “Erm, er, not as much… er, “ This was a complete lie because since Kyle and his chums had adopted me as their punch bag I’d been wetting constantly. “Well let me tell you Mr Court, I get complaints in here every day about you smelling of urine…” This took the wind out of my sails. He watched as my face flushed, it was something I hadn’t noticed but obviously others had. “… but I knew that was something you couldn’t help because of your ‘problem’ and you were doing your best, by wearing protection, to limit such a dilemma.” He explained as if he was defending my predicament. My argument about being bullied had just flown out the window as I tried to think of why I never thought about the smell of my wet diapers. My eyes were searching his carpet for some escape. I wasn’t expecting this and I felt stupid, inferior and at a huge disadvantage. I shuffled my feet. I’m sure he could recognise my uncertainty but firmly laid down his rules once more. “Now you have a choice. Go to the nurse immediately and get yourself appropriately protected or go home and explain to your aunt why I will not allow you back into my school.” I certainly didn’t want to alarm auntie, besides she had more or less inferred this might happen so I didn’t see I had an alternative. “Yes sir.” I whispered. “Yes sir what?” He wanted me to spell out his instructions. “I’ll go to the nurse sir”. “And?” He was determined I should know who was in charge. “I will not come to school again without the appropriate protection.” “Now get out and don’t waste my time… again.” He was obviously referring to my other complaints as well. I was in no position to protest against that comment so just had to accept his decision. “If I don’t hear from Nurse Jefferson every morning you will not be allowed to enter this school again. Do you understand?” I nodded. “Sir”. As I left his office I felt the tears and my crushed rebellion fill my heart like a dead weight and grudgingly made my way to the nurse. # Nurse Jefferson was just finishing on the phone when I knocked on her door. She had a look of disdain that is normally kept for silly little kids who should know better but still do something stupid. “Well young man.” I was expecting a lecture about my non-attendance but she just pointed towards the changing bench and told me to take off my pants and boxers. Thankfully I’d remained dry all the way through the principal’s speech and had managed to visit the toilet before I arrived at the nurse’s office. I was hopeful I’d remain dry for the rest of the day. “Last week Miss Marsden left some things for you, just in case of emergencies but I am under strict instructions from Principal Thomson to make sure you are well padded, leak-proof and… smell like a daisy.” I’m not sure if “smell like a daisy” were his words but I got the meaning that the thin plastic pants auntie had left with the nurse were going to be changed for the thicker, more robust rubber pair she was holding. # After all the preliminaries she fitted me in a very generous and extra padded disposable before adding the super smooth but inflexible rubber pants, it felt like I’d been concreted into my protection. I’d like to say it was a comforting sensation but it wasn’t, the elastic cuff held the top of my thighs tightly and irritated me because they were old and worn. Some of the rubber was slightly cracked so it nipped at my bare skin when she made sure none of my diaper showed past the seal. The waistband was equally tight and despite the white rubber being very glossy the durable material creaked with even the slightest movement. I sounded like I needed oiling. As I stood up but before I’d been able to put my pants on the principal’s secretary walked in unannounced and gave me a letter with the instruction that I had to deliver it to auntie. As she left the door was wide open and it was just my luck that a couple of seniors were there for some reason and saw my newly diapered state. Despite my protests Nurse Jefferson didn’t seem in a hurry to close it, whilst insisting I put my pants on and return to class immediately. You can probably guess the names I was subjected to as I eventually left her office. So, although I’d intended not to be embarrassed by wearing diapers, the fact was, at that moment I was extremely self-conscious and ashamed. I think a great part of that shame was because I knew I’d brought this on myself by refusing to wear my diaper as instructed that morning. The nurse’s attitude had been correct, I had been a silly little kid who should know better but still did something stupid. # Walking at normal speed produced a very obvious rustling sound but slowing down made it look like I’d had some kind of accident as my legs were slightly bowed by the thick padding. I was awkward and I’d never felt that my protection looked so noticeable before. I was uncomfortable so it may have been that I was just too aware of what I was wearing but I noticed that Oliver’s mates suddenly found better things to do when I appeared on the scene. Oliver was very supportive as expected and even tried to make a joke about my ‘special containment’ (as he referred to it). Unfortunately, everyone else, and not just the football team, decided that I was now total fair game and I received a barrage of comments and abuse. Even though the nurse had covered me in baby powder and “sweet smelling oil” (Nurse Jefferson’s words), quite a few people either could, or pretended, that they could smell pee… my pee and poop. Now everyone knew about my diapers I wished they didn’t. # To be continued… Part 13 The note I delivered to auntie from Principal Thomson was a demand that she would make sure I didn’t arrive at school without protection. He was now stipulating that I also wear thicker and more ‘odour neutralising’ diapers, plus thicker and more robust rubber pants to ensure that nothing (urine or smell) leaked out. There was also the added threat that should this not be complied with he would have no alternative but to ban me from school property. My act of rebellion had really rebounded back on me and I was forced to go to school wearing a much more noticeable diaper regime than ever before. With the appointment at the psychiatrist rapidly approaching auntie thought it best to submit to the principal’s demands (although really we had no choice). She desperately wanted to have words with him but I begged her against a confrontation. She was well aware of what I was being subjected to at school on an almost daily basis but I told her it was nothing more than what half the school had to put up with all the time… it was just the way High School operated. I’m sure this action by Mr Thomson wasn’t a callous way of putting me in my place but the result was that this previously reasonably confident fourteen year-old student was transformed in to an embarrassed waddling fourteen year-old baby. Any self-assurance I had about wearing my protection before had been turned into something else now I had to carry a heavy and noisy display of palpable fortification around my crotch. It had all been so different at Rainbow. There it hadn’t mattered how big the diaper was, or who knew, or who was wearing what… you simply got on having fun. Here at High School it was an excuse for a different kind of ‘fun’ - the verbal and physical assaults were constant. # Something I couldn’t explain also happened at this time. Although I was well diapered for school, at night I only wore a pull-up as protection for bed and I was waking up dry. In fact, for seven days in a row I woke up to a dry pull-up yet had no idea why. Perhaps I was peeing so much at school from stress and heavily enforced protection that I just didn’t have anything left whilst I slept. Whatever the reason it was welcome. On the weekend I thought I’d try sleeping without pull-ups. It was a strange feeling not having any thickness between my legs but I was happy that my PJs didn’t display a dark wet patch in the morning. Things were changing gradually and naturally although I can honestly say I wasn’t aware of the transition. My visits across the landing to the nursery had decreased except when auntie occasionally got me prepared for school there instead of my bedroom, which had become the main place for me to sleep or spend any time. However, whenever I went into that colourful room I still got that same wonderful feeling in my stomach. It was like… it was like when I used to do cross country running in the UK. You know, after you’ve finished a particularly long and demanding bit of exercise, that moment when you slump down aching and exhausted relieved it’s all over. But soon that fatigue passes and a sense of achievement takes over so you’re pleased you’ve done what you’ve done and a touch of euphoria fills the body making everything worthwhile. It’s that kind of ecstasy I get on each visit. Perhaps that’s only a good explanation to me. Even though I wasn’t using the childish content of the nursery as often, I was still glad it was there. Auntie had returned the crib from her room so it looked even more ready for a group of kiddies to occupy at any moment. I knew my childish clothes hung in the closet, I knew the pile of diapers had all been used by me at some point over the last few months. I loved the smell of the powders and creams that were suspended in the atmosphere of this wonderful place. The array of patterned and cute plastic pants on view still lifted my spirits each time I saw them. A spark of excitement rippled across my nerve endings when I ran my fingers over their glossy surface - that vinyl charge was highly bewitching. # The confidence that Rainbow gave me was now hanging heavy between my legs. Bulk was the order of the day and when Nurse Jefferson changed me – I didn’t like the idea of smelling of pee all day – she made sure everything would be absorbed by the super extra padding she slipped into my new, thicker disposable. I know she had been told exactly what to do by the principal but I’d often leave her office hardly able to waddle back to class. Any progress was slow and noisy drawing more attention to my circumstances so a barrage of ‘witty’ comments followed my every step. I was mentally beaten. I’d tried my best to withstand the daily torment but the bravado I started out with had diminished so that I was even being picked on by the juniors who saw me as an easy target. I may have hated it at the time but the private school (uniform and all) back in the UK wasn’t so bad after all. Oliver noticed my retreat because I didn’t even try to find his company, instead I’d try and hide away as much as I could. He wasn’t having any of it and tried to get me to respond to the non-stop taunts with clever comebacks or witty responses, neither of which I felt able to do. The anger that in the past I’d been able to summon up to repel people and their ‘personalities’ had been chipped away leaving me a pathetic version of myself. There were moments when I thought it’s what I deserved. Why would a diaper-wearing pants-wetter warrant any better treatment? # With only a day to go before auntie and I had to meet up with the psychiatrist things at school took a turn. Kyle and his gang had taken a back seat as they saw everyone else piling into me. Of course it didn’t stop them but they were happy that my life was being made a misery in general so didn’t seek me out for torment, although nasty things happened when our paths did eventually cross. It was obviously something that he and his bunch of goons had been planning for some time and at lunchtime, in the big hallway where everyone was loitering before going to the canteen, Kyle struck. Armed with a bunch of nettles and holly leaves he rammed me up against the lockers and as his two friends held my arms so I couldn’t fight back, he pulled down my baggy pants, yanked at the thick plastic covering and grabbed the back of my diaper. With a fearful grip he pulled them back to reveal my naked bottom and shoved the nettles between my skin and the material. Then he groped around the front and proceeded to do the same to my naked genitals. All the time he was mocking my manhood, calling me a girlie and little baby, saying how much nicer my diaper would feel once I was sat down or crawling around. His mates let me go and he pushed me to the ground, all the time laughing and taunting me. The majority of those watching were engrossed but still offering no help. I couldn’t see Oli or Yoosuf anywhere and all dignity left me as I felt the sting of the nettles piercing my soft flesh. “Crawl for dada.” It was not a cute expression; though his voice was filled with undisguised hate. He was certainly enjoying my discomfort and inability to do anything about it. He saw me as a defeated little baby who wet and pooped itself and shouldn’t really be in the same school as a man such as he. He mocked my screams and tears as I sat wearing just my thick and now even thicker, torturing diaper. I was utterly defeated and could only cry as he and his cronies laughed at my dejection. No one came to my aid but as a final act he lifted my face and looked straight into my eyes. “You’re just a piece of shit,” his words were whispered but clear. “A fucking useless little baby who thinks she’s somebody but isn’t.” I could feel his anger through his eyes and I trembled and wet myself at the same time. I didn’t know where this was going to end and as no teacher seemed to be coming to my defence I knew he could do anything he wanted without penalty… and he knew it too. “Get back to fucking England… we don’t want a piece of effeminate crap like you around this place.” I had no idea where all this venom was coming from or why he’d singled me out but as he hissed out his disgust at me he was pushing down on my genitals making sure the nettles did their work. Finally he let go laughing as if he’d just completed the best prank ever. His mates and he were high-fiving each other as they sauntered away deliriously happy with what they’d achieved. I was stinging and hurting and wet and… and… angry. As I slowly pulled myself up the reference to England had reawakened something which I’d been keeping locked away. The stinging nettles were somehow banished as an even greater sensation took control and, though only wearing a diaper, I launched myself down the hallway towards the posse of bullies. # Dr Jayne Barrows was a very affable woman. She was perhaps a shade younger than auntie but had a warmth and smile that radiated trust and, above everything else, competence. Both auntie and I were settled together on a white leather sofa and the doctor was sitting in an easy chair opposite. Auntie had done her own research online and knew a bit about Ms Barrows, there appeared to be some kind of mutual respect because the doctor seemed to know all about The Rainbow Rooms Nursery. This time I desperately didn’t want my diaper to be a distraction so I was wearing normal underwear and normal clothes. No matter what happened I was determined that I wouldn’t do anything ‘silly’ and that if I needed to pee I would seek out a bathroom somewhere. I wasn’t very comfortable, though auntie had done her best to put me at ease, suggesting that perhaps a pull-up might be advantageous under my boxers. No, I wanted to do this differently from the last time we visited a shrink and besides, I think I had more to worry about than just possibly wetting myself. After a few minutes of general chat the doctor got down to the business in hand. “So Dean, why did you try to suffocate Kyle Connersby?” # The anger that gripped me was like nothing else I had ever experienced. Even the time when I was banned from the boxing ring didn’t come close to what was seething in my head and my mind was only focused on one thing – revenge. The speed that I attained as I ran down the hallway towards my victim was surprisingly fast considering I had a huge and full diaper to contend with but at that point the three were still unaware of my speedy approach. A shriek of warning came too late as I pulled back my right leg and with all the force I could muster, together with my hurtling forward momentum, I kicked out at the back of Kyle’s knee. He’d turned slightly when he heard the belated alert as my deployed rigid leg made contact and a satisfying yelp of pain followed an even more satisfying ‘crunch’. The shock was obvious and the pain even more so as he rolled forward screaming in agony holding his injured leg. But as I got to my feet Smithy (one of his posse) was already advancing on me with a fist ready to knock my brains out. Whatever adrenalin was coursing through my body had made me quick-witted and I was able to parry his punch. As he stumbled forward to lash out once more I succeeded in using my elbow to deliver a stinging blow to his nose that made the big man stagger back in hurt surprise. Wilko Wilkinson, his other goon, was a bit slower but had eventually managed to get his thoughts together and, seeing his team mate down and injured, launched himself at me. At that precise second Oliver inserted himself between him and me and his flailing hands managed to get caught up in the straps of Oli’s backpack, which he just happened to be holding up at that moment. Wilko’s hands were quickly entangled so Oli shoved the bag back sending the angry but confused footballer flying to the floor. It was followed through with a surreptitious knee to the groin and the warning not to get up again if he didn’t want something worse. By then he had been surrounded by other unhappy kids baying for blood. I was unaware of this and only pieced it together from what I was told later. # Now I knew boys from this particular sport were not afraid of pain but the fact that a junior had perpetrated this assault I think had not only surprised them but un-nerved them a little. Yoosuf was making sure that Smithy didn’t get up anytime soon and Oli had miraculously neutralised Wilko. Some who surrounded the fallen teammates saw this as an opportunity to assert themselves and angrily lashed out. Where there had been a deathly hush in the hallway all hell had now broke loose not least of all as Kyle lay screaming out for assistance and holding his battered (and possibly broken) leg. Through his scrunched up and tearful face I saw the hate in his eyes as he yelled how I’d pay for what had happened but I just pulled down my full diaper and walked over to the prone and angry senior. “Here,” I shouted over his groans of pain, “you’ve been obsessed by my diaper you may as well have it.” I threw it into his face, nettles and all. I followed through, launching myself bodily (and naked) across the space between us, winding him as I landed heavily on his chest. “You’ve been desperate to get into my pants since I arrived at this awful place well, this is what’s in them, they’re yours now.” I spread the soaked contents into his face forcing it into his mouth as he tried to regain his breath, rubbing delightedly as I heard him choking on the contents. It was at this moment that a teacher intervened and hauled me off the stricken star footballer. I stood naked, hairless and unapologetic as I shook the teacher’s hands off and turned to see who it was. Yes, the one who’d made himself scarce when I was being assaulted all those months back. The look of utter contempt I gave him was withering and for a moment he was a little afraid of what might happen next. Meanwhile, I noticed all the camera phones (that were forbidden on school property) were out and filming the proceedings so, before the authorities could do anything about what had taken place, those images were already out in the public domain… they trended rapidly. ‘Bully gets diapered’ ‘Suck on this’ ‘Football captain gets retrained’ Some of the headlines on social media were disgusting but the outcome was the same… I was immediately suspended. # The weather in Kansas had only changed slightly from being very hot to being hot. However, as we sat in Doctor Barrow’s office the clouds were gathering and promised a deluge. I didn’t know if this was some kind of prediction, though I wouldn’t have been surprised. She had informed auntie not to interrupt whilst I told my side of the story and I nervously fidgeted wondering just what my fate was going to be. After the event at school, and I’d been unceremoniously marched naked to the principal’s office, I sat waiting for the furore that seemed to have blown up to die down. An ambulance arrived to transfer Kyle to hospital, whilst Nurse Jefferson had her work cut out tending to the wounds of Wilko and Smithy, not all of which had been inflicted by me. In fact I’d heard that one or two other bullies had been attacked by groups of fed-up kids inspired by my actions. Again, I had no proof of that it was only something Oliver mentioned when he returned some of my ripped clothes as I waited. The principal’s secretary had ushered my friend away pretty quickly, I’m sure she was worried that we might be plotting something else. However, though I had my pants and jumper back, I felt good being naked so despite the secretary asking me to cover up I remained that way. I could hear her on the phone summoning auntie and calling one or two other families, although I wasn’t sure exactly who. A couple of teacher’s looked in with faces creased in anger and amazement, whilst the football coach screamed abuse at me for injuring his star player and threatening all manner of reprisals. I looked at him in total derision not allowing his bullying tactics to work on me. However, I kept my counsel and sat quietly not believing what had just happened. # When things had died down a little but before auntie arrived, the principal rushed past into his office and told me to get dressed. I took no notice of him, for some reason I thought being naked was more of a statement than being clothed. When he saw that I wasn’t doing what he said he summoned the nurse to bring diapers and fit them before he would speak to me. For the first time since I’d met her Nurse Jefferson seemed ill at ease around me. She came armed with disposables and padding but was nervous about putting them on. As she approached I looked her right in the eye and said “NO”, perhaps more forcefully than I’d intended. The result was she shuffled back out of the office as auntie arrived. Having nodded to me on the way through, and told to put some pants on at least, she breezed into the Mr Thomson’s office, brushing aside his secretary and launched into a damning indictment of his leadership at the school. Auntie very rarely raises her voice but she wasn’t going to allow the principal to shout her down on this one. She knew all that had previously happened because I’d told her of my run-ins with the bullies. However, she didn’t know that my actions had sent a senior to hospital so that came as a bit of a surprise. Still, even with this news she continued to harangue the principal and the culture of victimization he’d appeared to foster. # When she came out she was obviously very angry but then again, so was Mr Thomas. She saw the nurse hanging by the door with a thick disposable in her hand and looked at me, I was still naked, and she asked if I needed a diaper. Surprisingly, after all that had happened, I hadn’t wet myself so shook my head. “Thank you Nurse Jefferson but I don’t think we’ll need your services today.” Auntie was polite. Her look of unease drifted into a thankful half-smile as she made her exit. “Put some pants on Dale, you’re not impressing anyone showing off your genitals.” It was a defining moment. Auntie was having a joke at my expense and we giggled together as I slipped on my pants and struggled into the jumper. Once I’d finished this operation she hugged me tightly and ran her hand through my short hair and said it was time to go home. “What did he say?” I enquired as we walked through the now empty hallways. “Well, you’re suspended and I’m banned from ever setting foot in his school again.” “But, but… didn’t he summon you?” “Yes, well, he’s a little upset at the moment. Apparently there’s a big game coming up this weekend and they’ve lost their star player… someone has nobbled him.” I wasn’t sure if auntie wasn’t taking this all too lightly, especially when she added. “I think their opponents might well be sending you a gift basket.” # Dr Jayne Barrows sat stoically taking in my side of the story, occasionally writing something down on her pad but generally just listening. I was surprised just how much I opened up but I think my actions had been so severe I needed to make a case for doing what I did. I was glad auntie was there because I felt safe when she was around. Of course, the incident wasn’t the only thing she wanted to know about and once again I found myself reliving my childhood (or lack of it). “…and just how did that make you feel ?” Which appeared to be the standard response to anything I said, so, I had to explain my various bursts of anger, reclusiveness and… denial. However, after the previous psychiatrist I didn’t want to make matters worse and continued to explain my feelings and thoughts. My anger at my parents, their stupid death (which I now realised wasn’t just the result of some arbitrary bomb but that they had been targeted because of the government job they did). # At the time the powers in Washington had laid it on pretty thick that my parents had been the innocent victims of a terrorist attack. They had been on vacation and just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. However, through what auntie had told me and the number of high ranking people at their funeral I could now make a slightly different judgement about what exactly happened. Something else that auntie had recently told me was that, via an intermediary, the ‘White House’ had offered to send me to one of the most prestigious private schools in Washington to complete my education. This had been raised at the time of the funeral but my hate for the British private school and auntie’s dislike of privilege made the offer a none-starter. However, auntie had disclosed this piece of information because of the bullying and in case I wanted a way out. The fact it would mean me leaving her, something I couldn’t even contemplate, sent me once again into a bit of a panic wondering if they could just send me away without her approval. She said as my legal guardian nothing could or would be done without her say so, and more importantly, that any decision made would be down to me. She wanted to give options. # Dr Barrows was already well briefed and knew exactly the right questions to get me going. There were times when I held auntie’s hand, cried into her shoulder as she held me so as to ease the pain. She was my strength and comfort and I loved her all the more for the emotional ride I was on and her constant unquestioning support. At times I missed not having my diaper wrapped snugly around me as I delved into some poignant aspect of my life. There were times when I had to hold back the flow that I could feel building as I also built to some revelation or other. I excused myself a couple of time, desperate to use the bathroom and not wet the front of my khaki pants. Then, as I zipped up glad I’d managed such a little part of my life I also realising I was missing something I enjoyed… my diaper. It made me wonder if, after this process was complete, would I be missing much of what I’d come now to enjoy. The principal thought I needed to expunge those ‘angry demons’ but I wondered – at what cost? Fortunately, Dr Barrows seemed to understand where auntie was coming from with her initial course of action to give me a loving home where I could experience some kind of childhood. She appeared to understand my anger and my belief that I was better off without other people. I saw on her face there was an empathy I wasn’t expecting. She thought my wetting from an early age had been symptomatic of so much stress, self -imposed or otherwise that it bubbled (we chuckled at this use of the word for some reason) to the fore at moments of inner psychological anxiety. There may have been no obvious reason for it but deep within, there was a problem and urination was the outward expression of it, a ‘safety valve’ was the way Ms Barrows described it. # Of course I am paraphrasing the doctor’s report because she was also damning about the culture at High School that allowed such a situation to arise. No one came out of it with any credit; well, that is, apart from auntie. Her part in my life had definitely been for the better and I was glad that she was recognised for it. However, as no local school would take me as a pupil I had to rethink the offer about going to Washington. Auntie put in a call and found a school, perhaps not so well thought of, but a private school nonetheless, in the state. With ‘Washington’ picking up the bill and letters from some very important people qualifying my entrance to that establishment; I started mid-term at a new boarding school. # The court case High School and the Connersby’s attempted to bring regarding the assault was dropped because of a counter claim my high-powered Washington legal team threatened to retaliate with. They pointed out that once they’d finished with the publicity and media coverage about how a school senior tormented and tortured a 9th grader who, incidentally, had just lost his parents under extremely tragic circumstances, Kyle would be lucky if he got accepted into any sports programme or institute of further education. Seeing how they were out-gunned, and that I’d no longer be a student at the same place as he was, they felt it in everyone’s interest to forget the entire thing. # The new school was different to the one in the UK. It was less bound by its centuries of tradition, being only in existence for around fifty years, and appeared more involved in students expressing themselves in a myriad of technical and social ways. Even though I was a boarder, I never felt the constraints or unhappiness I’d experienced in the UK.I wasn’t the most sociable person around but at least I’d learned to mix with others now. I also didn’t mind the uniform, which was smart without being over-the-top and I felt much more at ease and able to fit in more. I knew I could now re-invent myself, well, in truth; the kids at Rainbow had made sure I could do that. I’d found a friend in Oliver and realised I liked having a friend and went out of my way to see if I could make more. Also, and probably most importantly, I was relaxed about it all. I think this was because I knew auntie was relatively nearby. I was boarding only about two hundred miles away so… she was a loving beacon for me to go to if I needed her and she continued to be my motivation for everything I did or wanted to do. I hadn’t wanted to leave her but auntie being auntie she saw this as a terrific opportunity and convinced me it was one I’d regret if I didn’t at least try it. However, I did miss Oliver and Yoosuf but we kept in touch via social media so it wasn’t too bad. Oliver had been voted leader of the student body under the new regime that the authorities had brought in after Principal Thomson was fired. The school was changing although I wasn’t going to be there to enjoy that positive action. I never took my desire for diapers to the new school. I’d miss them but found I was a lot more involved in other activities to give them much thought whilst there. The other thing was - I no longer wet. Thankfully, I returned home as often as I could, even some weekends and head for my favourite place. After stripping out of my teenage gear in my room, I’d then move over to the nursery and wait for auntie to come change and dress me as she knew I wanted. A weekend in a thick diaper and kiddie clothes always had us both giggling in pleasure as well as it setting me up for what lay ahead. It also made attending school as a teenager more bearable and the link with my loving auntie… unbreakable. #### The End
  11. IllinoisDL

    Diapered Fun in the Burbs

    I'm a Diaper Lover in the North Chicago burbs looking to meet a girl that likes diapers too. I also have AB and daddy tendencies too.
  12. Anonymousrex

    New. Advice. Help.

    Hello world, I was introduced to the community by my boyfriend of two years. He recently came out to me about a year ago. I can imagine this being hard for him but I'm a rather accepting and understanding person. Only wish I had known sooner so we could play. He expressed to me that he is a DL not an AB, which either way is dandy. I'm cool with his interests and allow him to play as he sees fit and will more often than not join him. My questions are necessarily about why how etc etc but more details. When I ask him or read online about how to go about sex and making the experience more enjoyable for the both of us I get generic answers. I want specific details on what to do and how to do it. We have regular sex and are switches. I'd be interested in letting him "be my daddy" or I "be his mommy", or at least trying it. I just need specific details on how to do things or again what to do. Neither of us would neccessairly be interested in full baby play such as, pacifiers, clothing, or baby talk. I need help so I can fully satisfy my boyfriend and gain some satisfaction for myself.
  13. Jamie


    Is it hard dating as ABDL?
  14. Jamie

    Am Dating ABDL

    James has been single all most all his life until day he did find the girl of his dreams his family cant wait meet her And She can't wait to meet them ether. But there's problem she abdl and he is worried what his family might think of