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Pink and co It was pitch-black and I could feel there was danger lurking. I heard a soft, distant groan and immediately stopped to listen. I wasn’t sure what I was doing because although I could see nothing I sensed there was some kind of peril close by, which I desperately needed to avoid. My heart was pounding and the painful drumming in my head made it feel like I was carrying a heavy weight - like someone had just tied an anvil to it and told me to lift. This feeling of disorientation was making me anxious. Despite the dark surroundings I knew that an even darker area waited just beyond what I couldn’t see... I sensed it. There was an unbelievable feeling of foreboding as a louder groan reached my over-worked hearing. I wasn’t moving except for my head slowly turning this way and that to see if I could pick up any further sounds or at least get an idea from where the sound was emanating. My senses were working but at different levels. Unfortunately the dread was only aggravating the throbbing in my head. I worried that something evil was waiting – something I couldn’t see, something vicious... something... There was a further, even louder groan and a shiver of fear ripped through my body. I could feel my bladder already giving way and my arse muscle wanted to do the same. I clamped shut but another even louder sound took away my concentration and for that brief lack of anal attention, all hell broke loose from my rear. # Disorientated I woke up from deep under my covers panting for air and desperately striving to find the fresh variety. It was still dark. My mind couldn’t focus... I reached out and tried to make contact with my mobile, eventually my fingers slipped over the slim metal surface and I pressed the button – 00:14. Christ, I’d only been in bed two hours and I’d done... this. I heard another groan; it was my stomach complaining about something inside. So now I had at least identified the disturbing scary sound. Unfortunately, just a few moments later, and without ceremony, and this time with my full knowledge, a second deluge exited my body. This time the toxic fumes engulfed the room but it mattered little as I was feeling very ill. I hesitantly threw back the sheet and searched for the bedside lamp to switch on; the darkness disappeared and left me with the familiarity of my bedroom. It still felt a little bit unreal as my mind tried to focus. Meanwhile, my favourite manic looking rock god was looking down with an arrogant grimace, as if finding joy in my shitty situation. I’m sure he would, but I didn’t, I just felt dirty but lacked the initial impetus to get up and change... the heavy ‘anvil’ made rising very difficult. Holding my throbbing head didn’t help at all. # The expulsion of such a foul mass had left me fearful, ashamed, anxious and drained of any sense of being anything more than a helpless child. This was no way to start a Sunday morning even if it was only just into Sunday. Thankfully, the bedding would remain untainted because for the past few weeks mum had made me sleep in protection because of a sudden bout of wetting. Then I did a quick check... oh no... last night I didn’t wear anything. I lay there thinking that she’d be over-the-moon at my current situation and be all ‘I told you so” in my face. For the past fortnight I’d tried to talk my way out of having to wear any form of padding, thinking that my occasional wet morning was simply a passing accident that needed no remedy as it was only passing... but mum had insisted. She wasn’t to know that I’d slipped out of her protection on more than one occasion but barely managed to get to the toilet in time. A few times my pyjamas were soaked but I managed to hide that fact. I heard movement. Mum must have heard me or seen the light on under the door and I could hear her feet padding on the carpet heading my way. There was no way I could hide what had happened, the growing smelly atmosphere of my shitty deposit leaving no excuse. Without a knock the door swung open and mum and my sister stood there only a brief second before they barged in to take charge. “Are you ok?” Mum glowered as the smell hit her. “Well young man, it seems we were right and you were wrong.” My older sister had her hands on her hips as she added contemptuously. “For Christ’s sake Pink... all that screaming... get control... you big baby.” I lay there feeling useless as the two women in my life took charge. I hadn’t realised it but I must have let out a scream for them both to have come to my aid. Now however, they just looked on in disgust. Penny, my 16 year-old sister, regarded me as if to say “Well you’ve done it this time”, whilst mum made the practical move of opening all the windows. She said, “We’ll get you cleaned up but,” then added with more than a hint of threat, “if you think you aren’t wearing a nappy for the next few days you’re sadly out of touch with reality.” Being guided to the bathroom was like being led to my execution; my head was throbbing and my legs could have been in chains the way I uneasily shuffled the few feet from one room to the other. ## It was me who came up with calling my brother ‘Pink’ because when I was first introduced to him at the hospital he was only a few hours old. Mum said “Here’s your new baby brother” and I said “He’s all Pink”, which he was. Later, when I saw him again he had a pale pink Babygro on but dark pink mittens, bootees and bonnet... and again I called him ‘Pink’ every time I saw him. I think they thought it was ‘cute’ but the name caught on and soon everyone was using it. I’d started kindergarten when he and mummy arrived home but daddy had got all my old baby clothes out for him. Perhaps not surprisingly, and as the family weren’t as well off as we are now, my old babywear was simply recycled to service my new little brother despite there being a lot of girly colours in the range. Over the next few months he wore my old stuff, much of which was in several shades of ‘baby girl’ pink, although the nappies were made of a white terry cotton fabric. As a baby I had several little smocks, which made access to change my nappy easier. They were a lovely shade of pale red, cherry and crimson, which probably didn’t help much either. So, even though his real name is Thomas David Greenwood, the moniker Pink seemed to stick. Hi, I‘m his sister Penelope (Penny) Felicity Greenwood by the way. # For no reason we could ascertain a month or so ago Pink started waking up wet. Not too often to begin with but he’s been getting worse more recently. It was a surprise as he’s eleven and hadn’t wet the bed for eight years. However, it was getting worse so I complained to mum that Pink’s room was getting very smelly and that the odour of stale urine was reaching my room and suggested (what I thought was a reasonable suggestion) for her to put my brother in some protection to help contain the problem. Despite her almost daily having to strip his bed and do laundry, she hated the idea of asking him to wear a nappy at night. She thought it would be just too embarrassing for a boy his age to have to wear such a thing. I disagreed and thought it awful that a boy his age should be wetting the bed with no consequences but mum said she was happy to simply put up with it until his ‘problem’ was over. However, after a few mornings of the stench of pee I was livid. I thought he was not only pissing the bed but taking the piss as well, whilst taking full advantage of mum’s generous nature. Something else I noticed, although mum said she was happy to go along with daily laundry I could tell she was more than a bit fed up but wasn’t sure of a solution seeing as how she’d let it ride some time. A couple of weeks ago I got so frustrated I stormed into his room as he was getting up, the smell of his warm morning pee assaulting my nose, and accused him of being a selfish little brat. # Now, I don’t want you thinking that sister and brother were in a perpetual duel to see who could insult or humiliate the best, because on the whole we got on fine. Unfortunately, I was so wound up I was shouting and hurling curses in my fury. He looked shocked and stood there, his smelly wet boxers hanging from his hips and looking somewhat intimidated by my sudden angry verbal attack. I let him have both barrels as the ‘meek Penny’ decided enough was enough and I didn’t see why me, or the rest of the family, should suffer his childish bedwetting antics. Although I’m five years his senior (and of course had named him Pink) I don’t think I’d ever angrily let rip so viciously. Mum and dad heard the commotion and came up to placate the situation but I was in no mood. I accused them of letting him get away with being irresponsible and that his lack of any type of thought for anyone else was disgusting. I said I thought the least he could do if he was going to piss the bed was take some precautions to limit the damage. I went on in this vein for quite some time. It appeared I had a lot to get off my chest. I don’t think our parents had even thought about how Pink’s (yes even my parents called him that and so do all his friends, he doesn’t seem to mind the name he’s grown up with), bedwetting was affecting me. It had all been about how they didn’t want to make HIM feel bad about something he couldn’t help. Well now they knew exactly how I felt and I was persuasive enough for them to take my side in the argument, especially as he stood there looking ashamed and soaked. For a moment I did feel sorry for him as I’d never seen him look so broken by my verbal assault. Mum stripped the soaked bed, told him to remove his wet boxers and go get a shower but then said: “Your sister’s correct... from now on there will be changes”. That night mum had bought some disposables and plastic pants in his size and insisted that when he went to bed he should put them on. Of course he said he was eleven years old and had no intention of wearing them until dad had a quiet ‘man-to-man’ word with him. He reluctantly wore them and not surprisingly woke up soaked but his bedding was dry... and to my utter relief I noticed the morning smelly haze had been kept to a minimum. It had worked so, no matter how much he didn’t like the situation, both mum and dad understood now what was needed so made sure in future he was suitably attired for bed. ## Mum was washing down her eleven year-old son, me, who’d just crapped his pants whilst sleeping. I was so ashamed. She asked if I’d eaten or drank anything strange and it was then, through my aching head, that it hit what the probable cause was. Earlier, me and the lads had been having bit of an unsanctioned party in the woods. We’d all stolen something alcoholic from our homes and Pat had raided the freezer at his place and found packs of burgers and sausages at the bottom. He suggested that we make the ‘party’ more of a barbecue, so, between the four of us we had; eight cans of cider, four cans of lager, a couple of non-specific half empty bottles of spirits and something called Amaretto, which had been sitting untouched in the back of our kitchen cupboard for years. We’d set a campfire going and as Jimmy and Paggs were in the scouts, they devised a piece of netting to go over the flames on which to cook our frozen bounty. I think by the time we got around to eating, we were more than a little drunk on all the other stuff. However, that didn’t stop us enjoying the woozy moments as sausages and burgers looked ‘well done’ and probably okay for eating. They tasted burnt, but we were too far gone to really tell... it was all just high-spirited fun. Four eleven year olds; me, Pat, Paggs and Jimmy being so ‘grown-up’ downed our booze, urging each other on to take a sip of spirit or liqueur between slurps from the cans. None of us were going to refuse the challenge... even if it was the most awful combination going. Although feeling pretty tipsy, when I got home I think I hid what we’d been up to quite well and excused myself and went to bed around ten. I stripped and although a nappy was laid out ready, I was simply too sloshed to care so didn’t bother. I wasn’t feeling that well and the idea of actually doing something other than sleep was not going to happen. With indigestion, a swirling room and a feeling of sickness I slipped under my welcoming covers and immediately fell asleep. In the two hours from getting into bed and shitting myself I remember dreaming of the room spinning and being pulled into a dark black abyss. I felt sick but unable to move because all around I could hear the hungry groaning noises of wild animals... or so I thought. With what had just taken place, I would have been extremely glad for a nappy and tight plastic pants which would have prevented such embarrassment. Now, standing in the bathroom with both mum and Penny looking on, I felt like a stupid little kid who had no control. It was then that, with final massive groan, I leaned over the toilet and threw up whatever was left. # “I don’t know what you’ve been eating young man but it hasn’t agreed with you.” Mum was stating the obvious as she waited to see if there was anything else I needed to deposit in the toilet. Thankfully she didn’t press me but once I’d stopped retching, the full horror of what I’d deposited in my undies and toilet was revealed. Mum wasn’t squeamish like Penny and helped me out of the stinking messy bundle of soiled material and led me to the shower. Although I’m eleven and quite capable of washing myself mum decided I needed to be supported in the task as she took charge. I think my slurred speech and apologies didn’t help my case. Once that was complete I was guided back naked to my room and, without any dissent on my part, let her wrap me up in a thick nappy and watched through sleepy eyes as she pulled up a huge pair of opaque plastic pants. “There now... you should be okay for the night... but we’ll talk in the morning.” Mum turned off the light and I heard her mention to Penny that she could smell alcohol on my breath so I was in ‘BIG trouble’. ## Pink’s not a bad boy but I suspect, like a lot of eleven year olds, and boys in particular, he’s daft. I don’t think he knows he’s being stupid, or that there are consequences for his actions. However, mum was definitely not happy with this new development in her son’s behaviour, or the state of the bed, or having to clean up his shitty arse and him smelling like a vagrant. By Sunday morning proper she’d noticed the missing bottle of Amaretto and our neighbour Mrs Armitage had told her that Jimmy, her son, had arrived home heavily intoxicated and threw up all over the kitchen. According to her shamed and apologetic boy they’d been having a bit of a drinks party and barbecue... and he ended up not feeling at all well. His mother had consigned him to bed for the rest of the day and grounded for the rest of the week plus the following weekend. She was livid with him because she knew what a terror he’d become but “...things were going to change” she’d said with some determined authority. Bedtime was to be 8 o’clock every night and he wasn’t allowed any after-school projects. Now she knew what had happened mum was planning on something similar as punishment for Pink. She’d looked in on him at 9am and he was still asleep, she’d checked his nappy but he was dry. I checked in on him at 10.30 and he was just struggling to get up whilst complaining about his woozy head. He’d thrown back the duvet and I could see, even if he was yet unaware, it was another wet morning. I went down and told mum about him moaning about a headache and she said it was what he deserved having had a drunken night with his equally intoxicated eleven year-old mates. She wanted him to suffer, as a lesson, but knew she needed to make sure he knew why he was suffering and that his head was just the beginning of his worries. She quickly went upstairs to his room and told him to get himself down to the kitchen “NOW”. At the same time, she took away his phone - that was one privilege he was going to lose immediately. “I’ll be down in a minute... I need to organise my...” He tried to reason. “I said NOW... so don’t make it worse for yourself.” Mum had added a degree off command to her voice that Pink wasn’t used to. “You can walk by yourself or I can drag you... you decide which...” “Can’t I put some pants...?” “Now means now... so I suggest you stop stalling and move...” He got out of bed, his nappy wet and saggy in its plastic enclosure and made a move towards the door. He looked around for his phone but couldn’t remember if he’d had it with him. He’d be able to think once his head stopped hammering... he hoped. “Can’t I just...?” “Down to the kitchen... you’ve got a lot of explaining to do.” # The guilt of his drunken night, his stealing, his shitty bed and now soggy nappy, all added to his shame as he slowly waddled downstairs. There, sat at the table was his father and sister who were soon to be joined by his mother who’d gone to retrieve something else. He stood in the doorway shaking in nervous anticipation and wishing his head would stop throbbing... he wasn’t prepared for whatever was about to happen. ## Mum had already prepared dad and me as to what she was thinking. She’d had conversations with a couple of the parents of his mates he’d been out partying with and found out that all had arrived home in a terrible state. They hadn’t gone into too much detail but between them it was thought boys of their age shouldn’t be getting drunk when they knew it was wrong so... a serious penalty was the order of the day. Grounding was going to be the main punishment and an early bed time. Each parent was also going to add their own penance and mum had discussed what she had in mind and got both dad and me to agree. I didn’t think that Pink was going to enjoy the next part of the conversation but knew after last night that he’d have very little option if he wanted some kind of social life. ## I knew from mum’s tone of voice I was in some trouble and detected it wasn’t just because I’d crapped the bed last night. I didn’t know what she knew about me being drunk or what me and the lads had got up to but I suspected that I was about to find out. I stood at the kitchen doorway, soaked nappy sagging and dad and Penny looking at me half in humour and half in disgust. “Wait there until you mum gets here.” Dad said sternly. So I knew I was in trouble as I can normally rely on him to take my side in an argument. “You look pathetic,” Penny added with an evil grin. I knew then and there that if whatever happens was up to her I’d be in deep do-dos by now. Mum swished past me carrying a pile of stuff. “Right Pink you are in serious trouble. Here’s what we know because I don’t want to give you the opportunity to lie and make things worse. However, should you lie to me at any point over the period of your punishment, that punishment will re-set and you’ll start all over again. Do you understand?” My saggy, soggy nappy was beginning to itch and feel most uncomfortable but I dare not touch or scratch the area. I looked at the assembled judges, my family, and decided I’d simply better not react badly to whatever was going to go down. I nodded. “For stealing alcohol – grounded for a week.” I thought I’d got off pretty leniently. “For having a drinking session in the woods and arriving home drunk... when you are only eleven years old – grounded for an extra two weeks.” “But mum haven’t I suffered...” “Shut up Pink... you’re in too deep to raise any objections and I’d advise you to stay quiet... for your own good.” Mum was threatening me in a typical mum way. She was calm and measured but I’d better take notice or as she said it would be a lot worse. “Not wearing your protection when that would have saved the bedding last night... grounded for a month.” My intake of breath meant that was huge blow and crippling for future plans. The injustice of it all, and, for the first time in many years, I wanted to cry but knew I’d brought this on myself. Even as we were in the woods and doing what we were doing I knew it was wrong and they’d be some sort of repercussions but I didn’t want to lose face with my mates. “For being totally irresponsible and acting like a baby... your bedtime protection has from this moment been advanced... to you wearing protection 24/7.” “But mum that’s stupid, I can’t wear a nappy to school and....” I pleaded. “What you can’t do Pink is have a say in this. You’ve made your own messy circumstances so now you get to enjoy the fruits of your own stupidity.” I saw Penny’s face light up and dad just looked serious. Mum I knew was serious and I had no idea how to go about changing her mind. “Please mum, dad, erm, I’m sorry... I swear I won’t do it again... it was just a bit of fun...” “I see, so messing your bed, ruining sheets and... everything... was all ‘a bit of fun’...?” Mum can be sarcastic when she wants. “Mum, Dad I’m sorry please don’t make me wear a nappy...” “You already wear one for sleeping in so, as a reminder of what you’ve done, and I’m sure your friends will be getting their own punishment because, no one is happy with any of you... so... this is the end of such behaviour.” “But mum...” She was carrying a bunch of stuff in her arms and I now realised it was for me. “Right, upstairs to the bathroom now, have a shower and then I’ll get you sorted for the day.” I was just about to turn and reluctantly do as mum said when Penny interrupted. “Mum, don’t you think he should have breakfast first?” “I suppose it makes more sense changing him after he’s eaten.” “Just in case he craps some more,” Penny added maliciously. “That’s enough of that young lady...” Mum gently admonished. “I’m not hungry.” I angrily interrupted. “No one is asking the baby of the family... you’ll do as you’re told when you’re told... understand.” “Baby?” What was mum talking about? Mum was in my face and it was that tone again that said... don’t you dare mess... I got it and sat down at the table. Mum poured cereal and splashed on some milk, filled a glass with orange juice and topped-up their coffee. I sat in my squishy nappy but that wasn’t the only thing that was uncomfortable... I could feel everyone’s disapproving eyes on me as I ate. I was desperate to make my case but decided, rather than feel mum’s wrath I’d wait for an opportunity to speak to dad separately. I was sure I could get him to be more reasonable. My body temperature seemed to rise and I could feel the heat making me go red with embarrassment. It was an awkward few minutes as I ate in silence whilst normal life went on. I was more than a bit worried about being grounded for so long but even more worried that mum meant her threat and I’d have to wear a nappy all day long from now on. I wondered if any of the other guys were facing such a horrible prospect. I was also hoping to find my phone so I could speak and find out what was happening to them. Unfortunately, I had no idea where I’d put it. # The throbbing in my head had subsided a little but was still making me wish I’d not drunk anything last night. My mouth, despite the cereal, felt like something awful had crawled in and deposited something nasty there. I really wasn’t functioning very well at all. I was debating with myself whether to apologise loudly and constantly in the hope of mum relenting her sentence, or keeping quiet and hoping my sadness and obvious hangover might work in my favour and garner some sympathy. I didn’t know what to do so I suffered in silence. When I’d finished my meal I got up to go but mum said that as I was the baby of the family I had to wait for an adult to give permission before I did anything... and that included leaving the table. There she’d said it again baby... what was that about? “Muummm please be reasonable.” I begged through tears that suddenly appeared without warning. The pounding head returned with my sudden plea. “Let me make it perfectly clear if I haven’t already Pink... from now on you will be treated like a small child as if you don’t know right from wrong. You’ve put us through enough recently and this last act of stupidity is the final straw. You will follow any and all instruction that we three give you.” She pointed to herself, dad and Penny. “But why Penny I argued.” “You’re arguing again and I’ve just told you not to so... your punishment is being increased by a further week.” Oh god... two months of... I didn’t really want to think about it. I realised I was in a terrible situation and the tears that had been hanging waiting suddenly enveloped me. “Muummm.” I begged one last time but knew that there was no further discussion on the subject. My confidence slumped and any thoughts of being my age disappeared when mum made her next announcement. “I’ll tell you one more time, any argument with anyone and your punishment is increased by a week and your bedtime comes forward by half an hour.” “Muuuummm this is so unfair.” I sniffed quietly but knew the debate was over. She looked at me as if to say, that’s your final say, and it was. My tears fell like they did when I was a kid and had hurt myself, which in some ways I suppose I had. # I sat in a soaked nappy, crying and trying not to appear a big baby but it simply wasn’t working. I was totally distraught and had no idea what I could do to relieve the situation. I knew I’d been stupid and I couldn’t claim that I didn’t know what I was doing. When I thought about it – what was I thinking - that mum would never know or that the bottle of Amaretto wouldn’t be discovered missing? Now the tears fell because I was feeling sorry for myself but knew I had no response to what mum decided. Now she saw that I understood the gravity of the situation and that there’d be no backing out of it her fierce expression dropped to one of concern and motherliness. “Okay sweetie, we can all see you need a change so off you go to the bathroom and one of us will be up in a minute to help... there’s a good boy... off you go.” She tapped my sodden protection as I ambled dejectedly upstairs. I didn’t want to go. I was determined not to be treated this way. She was speaking to me like I was a toddler. I wasn’t going to put up with these rules... except... I was and I did. Unfair as I saw it I realised I had no option. Whatever my parents said or decided I was in no position to rile against. I’d made a complete mess of stuff and if my friends were also being punished I’d nowhere to go for any sympathy. I wish I had my phone to find out. I reluctantly traipsed upstairs and into my bedroom. Mum and dad had cleaned it up and even that awful smell from earlier had almost been got rid of. I was grateful for this and very glad I hadn’t been made to clean the place up myself. That’s when I realised I’d had my phone when I first woke up but someone had taken it. It slowly dawned on me that mum must have it and the chances of getting it back were slim to nil. By now I was really fed up of having to wear a soaked nappy and because mum didn’t say I shouldn’t I got rid of it as soon as I could, wrapped a towel around my waist and headed for the shower. I was quite angry with myself and, as I stood under the spray, kept telling myself off for being so reckless and thoughtless. I’m eleven years old... what was I thinking? I suspected, after all this, that I wouldn’t be able to get dad onside. I’d literally made my life a complete mess and had no one to blame but myself... well and Pat, Paggs and Jimmy... though I doubted they would be any help. ## When Pink returned from the shower I was waiting. I’d said to mum and dad that I would make sure he wore a nappy. Mum said it should be her but dad was on my side. “You’re the one who brought this to a head so perhaps you should be the one to do it... just so he knows his place...” “But darling, don’t you think he’ll be too embarrassed his sister taking control?” Mum seemed genuinely concerned but I was hoping dad wouldn’t relent. He didn’t. “He may be embarrassed but let’s face it... he has a great deal to be embarrassed about. No, we need to let him know that if he’d going to act like a silly little kid, that’s how he’ll be treated and his BIG sister will be there to help him through it.” “Well, if you’re sure dear.” I think after being so strict with him, she was glad that someone else was taking the lead. # When he came back I had all his stuff laid out and waiting. We don’t bother with church or anything like that on Sunday but, the weather was nice and we had plans. “Okay little bro... let’s get you ready for the rest of the day...” “Mummmm, why is Penny in my room?” He shouted angrily. There was no reply. “Daaadddd, why is...?” “You can stop that noise right away mister. Your sister is there to supervise you getting dressed because we don’t know that you can manage such a task on your own.” Dad was being unusually sarcastic. “You’ve acted like you don’t know the meaning of responsibility... well good for you because now you don’t have any. Perhaps, once she’s shown you how to wear a nappy properly we might let you try it yourself. Until then, your changes and choice of clothes will be supervised by any one of us... do you understand?” Dad didn’t say it threateningly but I think he made his point as I saw Pink physically shrink back into his towel. He nodded. “Good. Okay Penny, can you sort your little brother out and be ready in fifteen minutes please?” I have no idea what was going through my brother’s mind at that point but I bet he’d wished he hadn’t done what he did. # I slowly pulled away his wet towel and told him to lie on another dry towel I’d spread out on his bed. A waterproof mattress protector had been added to his bed after his first wet night, which made a rustling noise as he climbed on it. Mum had told me to make sure the anti-rash cream was laid on thick and then the powder. Of course I’d changed him before when he was an actual baby, and I’d done a fair bit of babysitting, so knew what was expected, although not for one as large as my brother. Still, he was now my baby brother so I was happy to get on with it. Well, happy might not be the right word but, as I started all of this I thought I’d better stay involved. Mum wanted to make sure he was in no doubt he was being punished for what he’d done but she didn’t want him to suffer because of a lack of care on our part. The expression on his face told me he was very unhappy about the situation but spoke not a word throughout the operation. He was very uncomfortable as I rubbed in the cream, especially around his bits and pieces and his bottom. He didn’t giggle as I sprayed loads of powder onto his crotch, which I hoped might relieve some of the tension. He just looked daggers as I flapped out a terry nappy and included a soaker pad before fitting it and pinning him tightly in. Mum had insisted he wear plastic pants and a nice new pair of sleek white ones waited to be shimmied up his legs. Once I’d done that I got him to stand and for the first time he could see what he looked like in the mirror. Although he’d had to wear a nappy at night this was the first time he’d had to wear one during the day and I knew it would be a bit daunting for him, so tried to relieve the tension yet again. “Looking good baby bro.” I whispered cheekily. He let out a huge irate sigh. I saw him look over to his jeans on the chair but mum had said he wasn’t going to be allowed anything that made him feel like a teenager. In fact, although he didn’t know it yet, mum’s plan was that when at home he was only to wear his nappy and plastic pants. She’d also indicated that if he acted up, he’d lose his shorts and he’d be wearing just protection even when he was out. She wasn’t going to put up with any argument from him and at the moment, that punishment looked like it would last two months. Meanwhile, I’d sorted a pair of loose-fitting fleecy shorts for him to wear, which I was sure would cover the offending article, but not completely hide it, a large pale blue t-shirt, a matching sweatshirt and helped him into them. I could see the resentment growing so stopped being the ‘nice’ sister and told him to behave as I could do without any attitude from a stupid baby. I could see he was desperate to retaliate in some way but dad called up to see if we were ready and it took the moment away. ## The instant I saw Penny waiting by my bed I knew things were going to be even worse than I expected. Dad having a go didn’t help and made me feel I was a complete and utter failure for behaving the way I had. Although I didn’t want my sister’s attention at least she didn’t appear to have it in for me and it was only later, when she whispered something about being a ‘baby’ that I lost it a little. I didn’t say anything but it was brewing. The nappy fitting was unbearable... I didn’t know where to look or how to react. When mum had done it the night before I was too pissed to be that bothered but now? Penny seemed to be enjoying her power and I knew it was her that had started this whole thing rolling. However, I just wanted for this to finish and then I could put my jeans on and hide the offending padding. “Why is mum doing this?” I sulkily asked hoping for perhaps a little sympathy. “Well Pink, you’ve been rather stupid and last night’s messy bed seemed to have pushed mum’s buttons because... I’ve never seen her so angry.” “But why nappies?” I whispered afraid at being overheard by mum. “I assume it’s because you didn’t wear one last night... AND... don’t forget... you’ve been wetting at night for a while now and it shows no sign of stopping.” “But that’s not my fault...” “Maybe not but you have been an absolute pain with mum rushing around cleaning up after you and not so much as a please or thank you... perhaps she thinks you take too much for granted.” She pressed the plastic pants to expel the air and made sure the fabric was tucked behind. “There. I think they suit you.” She was all smiles but I hated her at that second because she was being superior and up herself. However, when I saw that she’d already got clothes organized it suddenly struck me that I wasn’t going to get a choice and perhaps shorts were the best I could expect if mum regarded me as a silly little kid. The way Penny helped me into everything also sapped at my self-confidence... I was being treated as a helpless little kid. Anyway, I looked in the mirror and while I knew the thick cushion was there it didn’t show too much and I’d worn this outfit myself on several occasions so that was ok. Dad shouted for us to get a move on and although I was dressed and ready, I didn’t have a clue what for or where we were going. For the past couple of weeks wearing a nappy to sleep in, or to walk from bedroom to bathroom, hadn’t been too much of a problem but now I had to wear one for travelling more than a few yards, it did feel pretty strange. I was very aware of the extra padding, the slight rustle as I moved and the crinkle of the plastic pants with each step. This was going to be horrendous and desperately hoped mum and dad would have a re-think about this weird punishment. #### ...to be continued