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  1. I seem to be leaking around or through my plastic pants at night a lot. I'm looking for any advice. I'm on the heavy side at 330lbs (but it is dropping.) This tends to work but can be uncomfortable: Nothshore XL diaper. These work well if my penis is properly positioned to allow flow between my legs if I'm on my back but that no longer works. My penis tends to retract when flaccid so I tend to have sideways flow and that is not trapped by the disposable diaper. I already know my plastic pants need to be high-rise and my current set are not. This tends to leave a gap at my lower back. I have one pair(?) of diaper underwear that I wear over the disposable. This does a good job of capturing side overflow but can add too much bulk and lead to lower back pain. With high-rise plastic pants, this should prevent leaks. I have also tried a combination of the Northshore diaper and a plastic backed underwear liner worn out side of the diaper inside of some large underwear. Plastic side out. This works but there is the added cost. I'm thinking what I need to try is a 1 layer thick contoured velcro pre-fold flannel diaper instead of the diaper pants. (Pins are a no-go.) Has any one else, especially if obese, tried anything like this? I just received a new set of hi-backed plastic pants so the gaps should be gone tonight. In addition to this, I have the full mattress cover and over that I have an area cover that covers my side of the bed and over that I have 2-3 absorbent pads from North Shore. Then the top sheet.This way if I soak the bed, I can easily remove the absorbent pads and then just place a thin flannel pre-fold diaper over the damp sheet. (As I am large, the pre-fold diapers are freaking huge.) I can't do cloth diapers as I can't sleep if I feel wet. The whole point of the diaper is so I can sleep and not get up 4 or 5 times a night. Any other suggestion would appreciated.
  2. Little Liar 1-5 end

    Little Liar Part 1 Seven year-old Thomas Sebastian Turner thought he could get away with anything. He was the eldest child of Maria and Earnest Turner and brother to five year-old Mary and two year-old Carrie. From kindergarten onwards Thomas managed to successfully blame anyone and everyone else for his offences. Any mistake he made, item broken or tearful friend, he was always innocent, it had nothing to do with him. He would lie and lie until he convinced himself it was true. Even when caught out with his fibbing, still insisted he was telling the truth. His parents wondered if he knew what truth was. The family lived in a pleasant, inexpensive neighbourhood, in the Mid-west. Earnest worked as the finance director (accountant) for a group of local businesses, whilst Maria was a busy housewife, but had been a talented young seamstress before she married. They got by but there was never loads of spare cash, although they never went into debt either. Life, like the neighbourhood, was pleasant – they made no claims to being the cleverest people in the world, or to knowing anything about politics – The Turners, like the majority of locals, just got on with life as best they could. However, they had been on the net, discussed it with friends and neighbours, read articles in an effort to find a solution to Thomas’s ‘problem’. However, from all the conflicting advice they cobbled together a plan of their own to make their young son understand how his lying affected others and, more importantly, how it was going to affect him. # He’d woken up to a sunny morning as his mother gently shook him from a deep sleep where he’d dreamed he was playing with some of the colourful stars from his favourite TV show. Whilst he rubbed his eyes, she pulled back the covers, noticing as she did so the damp bedding and soaked jammy bottoms. Recently he’d begun to wet more often, not nightly but frequently enough that stricter action needed to be taken. Mary, his sister who he shared the bedroom with, had been potty trained for over a year and had not needed any night time protection since then. His baby sister Carrie was still in diapers day and night so for the eldest of the brood to still wet the bed was becoming a bit of a predicament. However, up until this point his loving parents had been understanding and just put up with the inconvenience because Thomas’s attitude was – it’s just a ‘bedtime accident’, which, ever since he was a toddler was what he’d called such occasional incidents. It was something he couldn’t lie about because it was there for all to see. None-the-less he thought of it as something that just happened naturally so therefore was nothing to do with him. These days he took no responsibility for getting to the bathroom at night. Mr and Mrs Turner had let him get away with it for far too long. They didn’t like confronting or even arguing with their children, in particular their independently minded son, so took the easy option. They came from a long line of very liberal parents who had decided that - a child needed to be given space, needed to find him or herself in their own time and on no account must they be challenged on that route to personal discovery. For Maria and Earnest that was now all a load of bunkum. So, from this day on his parents decided his and their own particular mind-set was no longer going to be appropriate. Young Thomas’s actions and bullying towards his younger sisters and others had been a belated ‘call-to-arms’ that they were about to respond to in a dramatic manner. Thankfully, the wet bed and soaked PJs gave them the perfect opportunity for putting their newly developed plan into action. Things were going to change for their damp little boy and change immediately. The plan had a few elements to it, and to be honest, neither parent was sure if any of them would work. However, they were desperate and hoped to get some response to their ideas. They were quite prepared for the tears, tantrums and drama that no doubt was about to follow. Adding to his mother’s determination about what was to happen was the fact that she noticed a teddy bear peeping out from under the clammy bedsheets. The very cuddly toy his two year-old sister had been crying for the night before because she couldn’t sleep without it. Thomas had sworn he knew nothing about its disappearance yet here it was now wet and as large as life. When his mother asked about it he still pleaded innocent to how it got into his bed, saying Carrie must have put it there. The sweet ‘butter wouldn’t melt’ look he gave her for a second put her off guard but the resolve returned and she knew he needed to learn not to lie. Thinking he’d fooled her, and that was the end of the inquisition, he quickly made his way to the bathroom to get cleaned up and ready for school. # It was the first day of a new term and Thomas was quite excited at seeing all his school friends again but his mother had been planning a surprise for when he wondered back to his bedroom still towelling off. As he returned he noticed that she had stripped the bed and a clear plastic sheet had been put over the mattress. Lying on top of that was a pile of items he couldn’t quite make out but to him looked very suspicious. One of Maria’s great joys was to make clothes for her children, which were often admired when they went out as a family. However, recently she had been busy designing and making a special new school uniform for her boy. She’d spent a few hours once the kids were asleep working away at this secret project, which she knew would be a surprise to Thomas. “We’re going to start this school term differently.” She said to her son as he hesitantly dried his thick brown hair, eyes focusing warily on why his mother should be there. He was a big boy and didn’t need her to dress him. “There’s a new uniform for you to wear but firstly, because you’ve been wetting the bed far too often recently, you’ll be wearing protection for the foreseeable future.” That information brought her carefree son to a sudden halt. He wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly or what it meant except, there was something about him having to wear ‘protection’ from now on. He noticed the folded disposable, the plastic pants and the baby powder lying on top of the pile of clothing and suddenly realised what exactly that did mean. He definitely wasn’t going to be doing that. “Mummy, I’m not Carrie, I can’t wear a diaper to bed… I’m not a...” his tears and anger came, “BABY” He screamed the final word and stomped off but his mother grabbed him and pulled him back towards the bed. “No sweetheart, you’ll not be wearing a diaper for bed.” She thought this might calm him down enough for her to deliver the sting in her plan. “You’ll be wearing one both night and day from now on.” She smoothed out the crinkly, plastic sheet covering the mattress and smiled at him. “We’ll make it thicker at night so…. if you use it… no harm will be done to your bedding.” # The tantrum and waterworks started immediately. He struggled out from his mother’s grip and stomped around his bedroom screeching at his mother that he shouldn’t (and wouldn’t) wear diapers at his age. This made Mary pay attention. She was used to tantrums and her brother getting his own way but this time mummy’s reactions were different, she spoke to him differently. ‘It wasn’t fair.’ ‘It wasn’t right’. ‘Only babies like Carrie wear diapers … he’d never wear them’. Thomas shouted and protested. As part of their (it had to be said), muddled plan, Thomas’s parents had hoped that by putting him back in a diaper full time would be a reminder that he’d been doing something he shouldn’t – bed-wetting. They hoped that by sporting a thick, babyish garment all day would make him think twice about his actions. They were also desperate for a quick turnaround to their son’s casual, disruptive ways. They worried that should it continue, in later life he might think his attitude was acceptable and find himself in a great deal of trouble. They had to do something now. He was very forceful in his childish arguments but for the first time his normally compliant parents had said “NO” and he’d met an implacable barrier to his normally indulged self. His father came in to the room and told his son to stop all the nonsense and behave. Hoping it was just his mother wanting to put him in diapers he ran and hugged his daddy, claiming his mummy was being unfair. He was a big boy and didn’t need to wear such babyish things. “OK Tommy, did you wet the bed?” His daddy asked as his son tried his best, ‘innocent little boy’ look. Thomas was none too happy admitting to anything but also knew it was something he couldn’t deny. However, he didn’t see Mary looking on so, albeit reluctantly, nodded to his daddy’s question. “Well, what do we do with Carrie when she wets?” Over the years Thomas had seen both his sisters being changed, so diapers, disposables, plastic pants, baby stuff had always been a huge part of the things lying around their home, but this was different. “But daddy,” he snivelled, “I don’t wet in the day… just… sometimes at night.” “Yes that’s true… and we’ve let it go but… you seem to be getting worse and we need you to be aware of the consequences and a diaper will be a constant reminder.” His daddy continued and hoped his son would see this as positive, even though in his own mind he wasn’t really convinced. This plan of theirs was a very piecemeal affair – it took from a host of different opinions, some more reputable than others, and they weren’t sure if any of it would really work. However, they had made the decision to act, so that was what they were doing, and hopefully they’d muddle through to some kind of success. Thomas wasn’t sure what consequences meant but it didn’t sound like daddy had much sympathy so that angered and frustrated him. “The good thing for you is, well, whilst you’re wearing a diaper, er, erm, you’ll get to use it, so, officially, no more accidents because you’ll have all the protection needed.” Earnest was really out of his depth but hoped that something, anything might work and he wanted to be positive and give this course of action a chance. The outburst followed but Mary witnessed something she’d never ever seen in their home before. Fury seethed within Thomas but a quick smack from his mother to his naked little bottom made him stop. This was another part of their plan - a short, sharp shock. They thought that a smack to his bottom might be another thing that would make him re-think his attitude and hoped that he’d be so stunned, the result would be instant. However, neither parent liked the idea of such a punishment and hoped the shock element would be the deciding factor rather than resorting to spanking their son on a regular basis. # Thomas had never ever been spanked before and was stunned. He wasn’t sure what to make of it. It didn’t particularly hurt but there was something in the delivery that meant things had changed and the only way he knew how to deal with that was by crying. He hoped his wailing would gain him some consideration, some sympathy. He wanted them to feel bad about smacking him but it didn’t work. His mother just carried on with hardly any break in the proceedings. Mary watched stunned as her older brother was reduced to a naked bawling baby and in truth trembled hoping that it wouldn’t happen to her. Although, at the same time, silently happy to see her unpleasant brother get his just deserts. This was an awful lot for the seven year-old to take in but with both his parents joining forces and acting as one there was little alternative. Thomas’s uncooperative wriggling and kicking was no match to stop his mother from powdering her boy and taping him into his first disposable diaper in over four years. The incensed wail and stubborn wriggle was being ignored and forcefully subdued. Even his mother’s gentle hand smoothing in creams and powder had been no consolation to the shame of being forced into a diaper at his age. It wasn’t easy but once it was done he did look a lot younger than his seven years. Perhaps, Maria hoped (and there was an awful lot of hope going on in their plan), this alone would make him behave. His young mind couldn’t cope with what was happening but even he could see the silliness of what they were doing. They wanted him to be more grown-up but they put him a disposable and expected him to use it. Why? It was different at night, he didn’t know he was wetting the bed but during the day, he had no trouble making it to the boy’s room. The disposable was a bright yellow colourful affair with blue cartoon character markers that appeared when the item was wet. So, whilst he lay sobbing his mother took advantage of his wriggling hips, which helped slip up a pair of matching slick yellow vinyl pants, she wanted to make sure he was completely waterproof. The thing was, seeing her son like this Maria caught a glimpse of her sweet innocent little baby and not the unholy terror he’d become. His ineffective stamping about and forced crying for some hoped for loving attention would normally have brought out her mothering ways and engulfed him in hugs and kisses. She knew she’d have to see this plan through or at least give it a chance if there was any hope of getting him to at least try to alter his ways. Tommy was terrified of going to school in such protection and protested throughout the entire procedure. He was mortified that he was now wearing such padding and looked like a taller version of Carrie. However, it wasn’t quite as bulky as his baby sister’s, although far more cumbersome than the Thomas the Tank Engine briefs he normally wore. His verbal and emotional protests were ignored by mummy as she simply made sure everything fitted him well. She thought he looked wonderful standing, albeit reluctantly, in front of her dressed as he was. It brought back happy memories of when Thomas was less trouble, more compliant and much easier to take care of. Indeed, Maria was a mother who loved and indulged her children. In years gone by she would have been dubbed an airhead or hippy but she wasn’t really. She adored having babies and wanted nothing more than to love and be loved by her three youngsters. Meanwhile, Mary popped her head round the door and saw her older, tear-streaked brother, being hugged by mummy, wearing babyish plastic pants and smiled. “Tommy looks like Carrie.” She smirked as her words had the desired effect and his face once again creased in total misery. This set him off even more hating her, hating his mother, hating his father … but his parents had further surprises in store for their little liar. Although he looked pretty cute standing there in just his protection mummy fed his arms into his new school uniform; a yellow shirt, loose red shorts with suspenders, a big blue bow and brown shoes. Where this idea had sprung from Maria wasn’t sure but at some point, when they were discussing Thomas’s lying, a reference had been made to a particularly famous childish liar and from that seed had grown into this part of the plan. To be continued… *
  3. From the PamperedPenny.com vault about 2006, which would make me 21 or so. Enjoy!
  4. Stevie’s Story Part 1 Stevie hated to travel. He hated it because ever since he was a baby his father had insisted that whenever they went anywhere, by car, bus, train or plane; he and later his sister always had to be put into protection for the trip. * He’d tried when he was five to rebel against this unjust rule but, when he’d found himself bare arsed over his daddy’s knee and getting a sound spanking and afterwards still being made to wear diapers and plastic pants over his stinging bottom, he saw the error of arguing against an adult. Even now, though resentment coursed through his thirteen year-old body, he knew better than to defy his father. Just one look from his uncompromising face made sure that he did just as daddy said. His six year-old sister Eva never argued, she just did as she was told and put up with the bulky protection that accompanied them on any journey. His mother supervised they were both wearing the prescribed clothing for any trip as it was simply one of her husband’s golden rules. She understood why he was so insistent on this particular ‘rule’, she didn’t see it as anything but a sensible precaution so was more than happy to go along with his few quirks and foibles, after all, he was a wonderful, generous, loving husband and father. Stevie’s daddy Thomas wasn’t a bad daddy. At forty he was at his peak; six foot two, clear complexion (he was often mistaken for a lot younger), a slim but solid figure of which any athlete would be proud, his brown hair cut short and on top of all that his business was doing well. In many ways he was perfect but it seemed that on this one issue, ‘kids travel’, he was a tyrant and unbending in his insistence on them being fully protected for the journey. It had been something he’d been made to adopt when he was a child, well up into his teens after which his parents announced he was old enough to be well aware of his own toilet needs. He himself had rebelled at the idea of wearing diapers on any journey but was often reduced to being seen as a ‘silly little boy’ when he’d arrive at the destination and realise that he was in fact soaked through; the protection doing its job and saving him from an embarrassing puddle. Indeed, the ‘puddle’ predicament had been what started this generational ruling for overly protective padding. * Steve’s granddaddy, Thomas’s father, had made it a rule after his six year-old ‘big boy’ son had fallen asleep and left a huge puddle on the car seat during a long drive. That damp patch was never really forgiven and to reinforce that memory, the young Thomas had to wear a diaper on any such future outings. It was only when he went off to college that the diapering stopped being insisted upon by his father. However, the long bus trip from home to college had consequences. During the journey Thomas had fallen asleep only to wake up to find he was severely wet. The embarrassment of the spreading damp patch and soaked seat meant there was nothing he could do to hide what had happened. However, at that moment he wished above anything else that he’d listened to his father and taken the precaution of a thick diaper “Just to be on the safe side”. He’d mocked his father’s advice, mocked the very idea of these days (or any other) needing any sort of protection at his age, yet now he was feeling the shame of wet pants and the folly of ridiculing his father’s wise suggestion. His fellow newbie’s to the college had noticed the very discernible damp patch and from that moment on Thomas garnered the nickname of “Peepants”, a sobriquet that followed him throughout his college years. It didn’t help that the first and second night in the dorm he also wet the bed but managed to smuggle the evidence out before his roomie was aware. After that he wore protection every night until he was sure that no more accidents would occur. However, he wet often in those first few months and was glad he could hide the fact by being well protected on a night. He was very embarrassed about what had happened but decided that prevention was more instant than trying to find a cure and knew he’d be more self-conscious if he continued to wet and the nickname was to become engraved in stone. At least if they didn’t know what he did (or didn’t do) he could laugh off their jibes and pretend it had been a one-off experience. However, that embarrassment became such an imprint on his mind he didn’t ever want to be in such a shameful situation again. So deep was his anxiety for wetting in any situation it became an obsession so that when his own children came along they were paying for that fear and humiliation even though they didn’t know it. * Of course young Stevie knew nothing of this and simply resented having to wear such thick diapers. He’d only recently become a teenager so thought that like his peers, he should be allowed to do whatever he wanted. So far his cute looks and blond hair (from his mother’s side of the family) for some reason meant at school he could get away with almost anything, although at home his daddy would see through any deception and his big blue eyes were of no help. If he even looked like he was going to complain his father simply made him wear them for longer. Moaning and whining also produced the same penalty - the wearing of diapers and plastic pants throughout their stay - where ever that may be. The only time the dress code was relaxed was if they went to the beach or to a pool and then bathing costumes were allowed. However, as soon as that finished, or if there had been any whingeing, it was back to re-diapering, in public if there was nowhere else to change. This punishment was available but rarely enforced because over the years both their children had learned the consequences of insubordination. Besides, they weren’t spoilt or naughty little brats constantly in need of chastising; they were, for the most part, well behaved children of which any parent would be proud. Normally, as soon as they reached their destination both were then allowed back into their usual underwear. That was until Stevie got in to a quarrel about the fact that his diaper was too bulky and obvious and everyone knew what he was wearing. Not only did he argue with his mother about its size he shouted and swore at her for making him into a ‘sissy little baby’. This reaction had happened because they’d stopped at a services station on their way to their seaside destination. There were only a couple more hours to go but as both Stevie and Eva had said they urgently needed the bathroom Thomas had pulled onto the forecourt and let them out. Stevie was old enough to be able to sort himself out, whereas Eva needed her mother’s help. Meanwhile, father went and bought a few snacks for the rest of the journey and filled the car up with fuel. His mother was shocked at such an outburst. Although she wasn’t to know that it had been brought about by something another boy had taunted whilst Stevie was visiting the restroom. Although the reason for the protection was to contain any ‘accidents’ the children weren’t made to use them. If they could make it to the bathroom all the better, alas on this particular occasion his protection had been seen and ridiculed. The other boy, who was slightly older than Stevie laughed, pointed and couldn’t wait to tell his friends what he’d just seen. Stevie felt the humiliation grow as he struggled, after he’d peed successfully, to rearrange the obvious bulk in his shorts but as the boy sniggered contemptuously, unfortunately for Stevie that shame transformed into tears. The other boy couldn’t believe his luck and took great delight in teasing and calling him a “Sissy little baby who needed to go poo-poo in his little diapee”. * Alas, Stevie wasn’t equipped to deal with this verbal assault and simply wasn’t a match for such a self-confident bully so all he could do was cry and run from the vicious taunting. However, on his return to his mother, the torment had become too much, so had the exasperation of his situation so, with the bully’s words echoing in his head, he let loose a stream of anger towards her. His sister and mother both looked at Stevie in shock. Never had he used such words and never had he been so disrespectful to his mother, worse though was that his father overheard his vitriolic attack and decided to act there and then. Not caring who was around his daddy grabbed him by the arm and without so much as a word of warning, pulled his son’s shorts and protection down and spanked him hard in public. Amongst others, the young bully and his friends witnessed the spectacle and although part of them felt sorry for the poor guy, another part thought it was what a diaper-wearing cry-baby deserved, they were just thankful they were not on the receiving end of the very hard thrashing. Stevie’s little bottom glowed before his father stopped. Once he did he pulled up his sons diaper but wouldn’t let him have his shorts and told him to get in the car. The spectators, who had witnessed both the boy’s outburst and its consequences, were mumbling support and disgust in equal amounts at what had just happened then moved off and left the family to sort out their own domestic situation. Stevie, wearing only his diaper, sat in the car bawling his eyes out, his father, who had calmed down a bit was trying to appease his wife who thought that the punishment had gone too far. However, Thomas would have none of it and explained that if he didn’t nip such bad behaviour in the bud now, who knew where it could all end. He simply was not prepared to have a son who disrespected his parents, or anyone else for that matter, no, that type of behaviour would not be tolerated. * Stevie had made a bad situation worse and through his tear-stained eyes understood he’d done wrong attacking his mother in front of everybody. However, he thought his father’s response had been very cruel. There was a mixture of feelings running through his body, defiance and sorrow, but it was sorrow that was winning because his bottom stung as he sat trying desperately not to wriggle about in the diaper. Strangely enough, as he did, it was offering some sort of comfort but he just couldn’t stop crying at what he thought had been a gross injustice. Unfortunately for Stevie his timing could not have been worse. They had not been far from their destination and his mother was just about to relieve him and his sister of their diapers in preparation to the start of what was expected to be an enjoyable vacation. Alas, Stevie watched as his sister was changed out of her protection and put into her sweet flowery nylon panties, and all he could do was sit there dressed solely in his diaper feeling angry, humiliated, sore and hard done by. Dejected and humiliated his tears started again as they drove off whilst his constant bleating to his parents that it wasn’t fair that his sister was allowed out of her protection while he, her older brother, had to stay in his, made it more or less certain he would be wearing a diaper for the rest of their trip. His father warned him that if there was any further complaining not only would he be wearing diapers for the rest of the holiday, that’s all he’d be wearing. This news set him off on another round of tears but this time he didn’t voice his distress he just blubbed to himself and tried to hide away from the rest of the family. * That’s difficult when you’re sat in the rear seat of a family car. Eva was sitting next to him proudly wearing her grown-up panties under her dress and she kept looking across at her brother as he struggled to feel comfortable in just his diaper. She tried her best to get her brother to join in a game, or read her a story but he sat grumpily, arms folded and seething. Like the rest of the family Eva was pretty and cute. Indeed when out together the entire family looked like they’d just stepped off the cover of some fashion magazine. Even when they dressed casually they looked the part of models ready to go about their posing and little Eva just set the family package off to a T with her curly blond hair, pixie-like looks and sweet demeanour. However, at that moment at least one of the models was not happy: Stevie didn’t even have plastic pants to try and hide the soft mass that was, despite his anger and frustration, keeping him snug and his bottom away from the firm seat adding to his pain. For a second he plotted some kind of revenge. He thought he’d teach his father a lesson and wet himself on purpose… thus soaking the seat. Well, that was the way his mind was thinking. Sadly, that little scheme wouldn’t work even if he’d had the guts to try it as he’d just emptied his bladder at the gas station. So, even if he could force something out, it would hardly have dampened his diaper never mind leave a mess. He was thwarted and sat squirming around, this action comforted and settled him down, which soon saw him dozing quietly for the remainder of the journey. * When they arrived at the hotel Stevie was in for another surprise, he had wet himself. He wasn’t soaked through but he was undoubtedly wet and that inhibited him from getting out of the car. He was worried what his father would say, he was worried that others would see his drooping diaper and he was totally embarrassed that his father had been correct about him wearing a diaper to avert this type of accident. He simply didn’t want to get out of the car but the threat of another public spanking made him swallow any pride he had and follow the rest of the family into the hotel lobby. His mother had promised that she’d change him as soon as they got to their room but until then, he’d simply have to make do. He dare not look at any of the other vacationers who were milling around the huge hotel foyer. To Stevie there seemed to be hundreds of people, kids and adults, all looking at him and his very droopy diaper. He tried to hide behind his case but, as it was on wheels and too heavy to carry, he had to drag behind him. This offered too good an opportunity to some of the kids who noticed and were noisily indicating the fact to others while laughing at the new arrival. It looked quite bizarre as they booked in and got the key to their room that the little girl was dressed normally but her older brother appeared to be the baby of the family. I’m sure many of the children who witnessed this spectacle had made up their own minds but the adults would have known that the boy in diapers was being punished for some reason. It was true that a few of the parents wondered how effective such a punishment might be and wanted to talk to Stevie’s parents to find out; no doubt thinking that they might use it on their own unruly kids. Little did the boys that were hooting with derision at Stevie know that their own day of reckoning was not that far off. * To be continued
  5. Confession I suppose this is a sort of confession. I suppose it’s something I feel a little bit guilty about… although I’m not sure why. It’s something I like to do, because it makes me feel good and… I suppose… makes me feel sexy… even though, to most people, that’s the last thing it would do. OK. OK. I’m just going to say it out loud and then … well… it’s out there and you can mock or call me names as much as you like. Hell, over the years and in my confusion I’ve called myself all kinds of things but… it doesn’t stop me doing it. Yes, alright… I’ll stop putting it off and just tell you. But don’t judge me. Well, I suppose you will but… I feel that… well… this is the place I should be able to talk about this… without too much… too many erm… well, problems. I mean, we all have our little secrets don’t we? I’m sure some are worse than mine. I bet some are really weird… yer... weird… but I promise I wont judge you. So, be kind. I really need to get this off my chest even though I don’t know why and after all… isn’t the motto of this group… this forum… “If it feels good, do it”? A bit like the sportswear brand Nike “Just do it”. OK. OK. Sorry, sorry… OK... I’m just waffling now. Here goes. I like to wear… erm… I find it comforting to wear… under my jeans, or suit, or in bed… a pair of… don’t be shocked… erm… a diaper and a pair of plastic pants. *** Perhaps some of you want to know where my love of these items comes from. I’m sure everyone has their own starting point for this type of thing. The moment when they realised… ‘POW’… that precise moment in time when it all started. I remember reading about an older man who could tell you the moment, and the occasion, that he became obsessed with men. As a kid he was watching a Tarzan programme on TV and he realised he was jealous of the boy Tarzan was looking after. Tarzan; all muscles and all but naked body in a loincloth had a young boy with him dressed pretty much the same… he desperately wanted to be that boy. Since that TV programme he’d become obsessed about finding his own Tarzan character; big, strong, in charge but, as he said, it gets more and more difficult as you get older. He’s now middle-aged and, playing a little defenceless little boy in need of protection, is getting more and more difficult. Not that that is how I see myself. No. I don’t see myself as a little lad. Hell NO, what are you thinking? Although I can tell you when this obsession started and it was down to a little boy… my younger brother. *** As kids we shared the same bed. Well, when he was old enough to sleep away from my parents he ended up sharing my bed. He was 3 at the time and I was 7. As a grown-up 7 year-old I didn’t really want to be sharing my bed with anyone, least of all my little brother who I wasn’t convinced was toilet trained. In fact he was very slow in getting to use the potty and mum kept him in training pants during the day, and at night she’d slip a pair of plastic pants over them for added protection. One night, when he was 4 years old, mum had said that he didn’t need the training pants anymore as he’d had dry nights for several months. Like me he slept in just his pajamas and yes, that night, he wet the bed. Now, I was sleeping next to him and to be suddenly awakened by a wet patch took me by surprise and disgust and I literally kicked the little bugger out of the bed. He landed on the floor with a crash and banged his head on the bedside table, which caused a cut and he started crying. I panicked as mum and dad came to my room to see what the commotion was all about. Mum picked up my little brother and stared daggers at me for hurting her little baby, while dad grabbed my arm and pulled me from the damp bed. I tried to explain that he’d wet the bed and I hadn’t meant to hurt him but my dad did something he’d never done before. He put me over his knee and gave me a spanking. Never in all my 8 years had dad said so much as a harsh word to me let alone raised his hand, but over his knee he gave me such a hard hand spanking that my little cotton pajamas offered no protection and my bottom felt every fierce smack. By the end I was weeping more than my little brother, my bottom hurt and stung but my father told me to stand in the corner of the room with my hands on my head… I couldn’t even rub the pain away. As I stood there crying, and in shock, dad flipped the mattress and changed the bedding. He seemed to take ages and all I could do was sob in the corner with a stinging red bum and regretting ever having a pissy little brother. When he’d finished he called me over to him. He was sat on the bed and I feared I was in for another spanking but I wasn’t. He pulled me into his warm manly chest and gave me a cuddle. He kissed my head and held me in a comforting way until my sobbing had quietened down then he spoke to me in his usual, soft and mild tones about… responsibility. He told me about my responsibility to my brother… that when he or my mum were not around, I was in charge and I should be looking out for him; making sure he didn’t hurt himself or get into any trouble. He explained how he and my mum were relying on me to be a good brother, a thoughtful brother, a protecting brother… and all in all… I was made to feel I had let them down, but more importantly, I’d let myself down by this one act of nastiness. Dad hugged me and put me back into bed with a kiss and I slept on my front as my bum still smarted from the spanking. My little brother spent the night with mum and dad and, after thinking about my situation and what dad had said, I eventually managed to get some sleep. The following day David, my little brother, had quite a bruise on his forehead together with a small scratch. I really did feel guilty so apologised to him before I went off to school though didn’t know what to expect when I got home. Sleeping arrangements were the same, I went to bed and David was there only this time he was back in his plastic pants. I cuddled him that night, I wanted him to know that I was his older brother who would protect him and not harm him, and he scooted up to lie against my chest as I wrapped my arms around him. That was the moment… the ‘POW’ moment I was telling you about. The moment when I fell for a sensation and my life changed quite a bit. *** My pajamas were very thin and so were David’s and I could feel the thickness of the diaper and plastic pants through the material. As he snuggled up closer the back of his pajamas came down and mine had also ridden up a bit so, some of my hip came into contact with his plastic pants. I liked the feeling. As he slept I pulled down his pajama bottoms and had him sleep tightly up against me and I just loved his hot little body, his thickly padded butt and his shiny plastic pants rubbing up against my naked skin. I’m sure he had no idea what was going on, and in all truth, neither did I, but I do know that we innocently slept that way for many months. I often wondered if he ever wondered why he always woke up with his pajama bottoms around his ankles but nothing was ever said. We tried on several occasions to let David sleep without the protection and he’d go a couple of days dry before he’d have another accident and mum would put him back into the protective padding. This frustrated little David a lot and visits to the doctor and several help-features later, we still couldn’t stop him from his involuntary pissing. He seemed to stay dry when he was in all his protection but as soon as we let him out of it, he peed the bed. He was getting one angry little chap. He hated being like he was and, because he was still in his diaper or training pants, I think he was getting a ribbing from his friends at pre-school. Even at that age kids can be so cruel but he’d refused to wear those trainer or plastic pants to bed and started to wet even more regularly. No one at his school wore them, he argued in his boyish petulance, so why should he? He was determined that he wasn’t going to wear those ‘baby’ pants any more. We sympathised but every morning we’d both wake up to a soaked bed. The rubber sheet we both now slept on helped a bit but he still flowed almost every night. Mum would be very forceful with him and dress him for bed, making sure his night time diaper and plastic pants were in place but as soon as she left the bedroom he’d angrily remove them and chuck them in the corner. When I came to bed a little later I’d see them and, thinking about what dad had said about being responsible and David’s protector, would pick them up and try to put them back on his sleeping little body. However, one night, instead of re-dressing David, I struggled to get into them myself. They were very tight and clung to me like another skin. It was incredible… I loved the feel. I loved the way the bulkiness made me... I suppose… excited… as I’d gently stroke the soft malleable plastic material against my body. I didn’t realise it was sexual - all I knew was that I liked the feeling it gave me. This was even better than rubbing up against my little brother and I had no idea why it had taken me so long to undertake this most obvious of steps. *** The following morning we woke to another wet bed, I had forgotten the fact that I was wearing David’s diaper and plastic pants and so when mum came in, she saw me in them. At first she looked a bit surprised and then just nodded to me. At breakfast I was worried about what mum would say to dad but I was amazed. Mum said that I had hit upon a fantastic idea. She had read that a sibling, which I gathered was me, might set a better example than anyone else if I wore the same as my brother. At the time I didn’t quite get what she meant but I was just so happy that she had not said anything embarrassing to dad and that I was being held up for some praise. That night, when mum took David up to bed, she asked me to go with her. I was watching TV but with a smile and an encouraging nod from dad, I made my way upstairs. David was once again riling against putting on his night time padded protection but mum asked him - what if I wore the same as him, would he then wear them? She told him that he was not a little boy, and that we all knew it wasn’t his fault. I was shocked… somewhere in all this I suddenly realised what I was being asked to do. Even as an 8 year-old I thought, what I did in the privacy of my own bed and liked, was not necessarily what I wanted to be taken as the natural course of things. After all, I was a lot older than David; I was grown up for heaven’s sake. I hadn’t worn a diaper since I was 2. I was just about to voice these concerns when she told David that it was all my idea and that both she and dad were proud that I loved my little brother so much I was prepared to do this for him. She said that I was the best brother in the world and David should know just how much his older brother was trying to help him with his slight problem. She produced a new, slightly larger diaper like David’s and a pair of plastic pants and asked me to put them on. So, caught off guard by this turn of events and knowing I had no way out of it, I stripped off in front of mum and David and let her fasten me into them and the new, slightly larger and more rubbery pair of plastic pants, before pulling my pajamas over it all. I felt huge… if well protected. Seeing me like this David didn’t even try and argue, he let my mum dress him the same and with no more fuss kissed him a more relaxed goodnight. I was on my way back downstairs to watch TV and … well I don’t know what… possibly to try and talk myself out of the situation… when David called me back and asked me to come to bed with him there and then. I was about to argue but mum said what a good idea it was and I knew I was beaten. Even dad came into the room and kissed us both goodnight, he gave me a huge hug and said “Thanks” and at that moment I knew things would never be the same. I went through this nightly ritual for as long as I shared a bed with David, a further two years. Some times he’d go forever without getting wet as long as he had his protection on. When we tried to take him out of them he inevitably wet the bed. However, I had grown used to my nocturnal mode of dress and told mum I didn’t mind sleeping that way if it helped. I was happy and I suppose enjoying my first ‘fetish’, although at the time I had no idea that such a word existed but I suppose, even at that age, I knew it was nothing to shout about as I hadn’t told anyone how much I liked wearing all that stuff. *** Eventually, dad got a new job and we moved. In the new house we had a room each and in many ways I was sad to lose the comfort of my younger brother sleeping next to me, though at the time I think I was really made up about having so much space to myself. The strange thing was… David stopped wetting himself. Now he had his own room he just grew in confidence and his wetting stopped. Not gradually, but overnight… he pulled off his protection on that first night in his new single bed and never put them back on. Things changed for me as well. I had more privacy but mum, had stopped buying plastic pants and stuff to fit me, because she was able to stop buying those things altogether. However, I kept my diapers and plastic pants and occasionally would just pull on those very tight fitting stretched slippery pants and wear them in bed. I’m not clever or academic so I didn’t go to college but found a job locally just a week after my 18th birthday. On my first pay day I went out to the drugstore and quite openly bought a couple of new pairs of plastic pants and adult diapers and have been doing so, on and off, ever since. I’m 20 now and still live at home with mum, dad and my brother and it’s great, I have as much freedom as I need. I’m not sure if mum knows what I do. I don’t leave ‘evidence’ around the house but I did once notice that the draw I kept them in had been opened. I assumed it was mum putting away my ironed clothes but I never asked and she never said if this was the case. So, everything is fine. I wear my diapers and plastic pants for comfort, for memories and, well, because I like to. My job doesn’t pay a fortune so I’m not able to wear them 24/7 but at night, when I’m feeling that way out, there is simply nothing better than getting well-padded; slip on my diaper, some soft plastic pants and drift off to an amazingly comfortable sleep. I think I must have been in denial in the beginning because in truth, I do feel like a little boy in need of protection when I wear them. I have a footed onesie (a Christmas present from my parents would you believe), a bottle and a pacifier (which I bought myself) for when I feel the need and I just love to regress, even for a little while, back to when I shared the bed with my little brother. I dream of those times regularly and I always wake up happy and relaxed, even if I happen to have wet myself in the night, which, unintentionally, I occasionally do. I adore my thick protection. I enjoy the sensation of my plastic pants. I enjoy my bed being dry even when I’m not. Perhaps, in the future, I’ll get a daddy who wants to join me on these adventures, maybe even coming up with a few ideas of his own. Until then, I love my occasional ‘little’ life. **** tbc
  6. A New Start Part 1 Love isn’t all you need… but it’s certainly a start. Cardinal Willem Luthar Flischer (1949 - ) Joshiwoo was more than a little agitated as he sat in his playpen pushing the toy plastic train around and around. The soft vinyl mattress he was playing on had got a few ‘hills’ and ‘dales’ for him to at least make his choo-choo sounds a little different as the train climbed up and down its enclosed plastic domain. His own plastic pants, with the multi-teddy bear motif that encased his thick disposable, crinkled as he crawled around and was a nice accompaniment to the tinkling sounds of the overhead mobile plinking a soft nursery rhyme. His super-soft pale orange t-shirt had an image of a smiling brown and orange monkey hanging from a branch and the words ‘Lil Monkey’ written in swirling letters underneath. He was warm, he was safe and thanks to his super-thick nappy, he felt extremely secure. Sitting in one corner was his new, sparkling white, soft and smiling plushie, Snowy the polar bear. Lying quietly behind him was pink Bunny Fluffytail and his plastic T-Rex, Tex. The size of his playpen was adequate enough to contain him and his myriad of toys and fluffy creatures, and, for the last few months it had been a big part of his world. That and being looked after by ‘mummy’. The thing was he’d been on his own for some time now and was missing her. # Four months ago she had discovered an almost broken young boy on the verge of suicide and contemplating the welcoming embrace of the rail line as he stood perilously close to the edge of the bridge. He’d lost everything: His job, his home, his money and his friends. He’d got addicted to something that had changed his personality so much that no one wanted anything more to do with him – fame. Fleeting though it was, it had filled him with an attitude and a carelessness that made him believe he was indestructible (he’d not allow any reasoning voice to alter its ego-boost). He’d been stupid enough to believe his own hype and let others take care of ‘all the other stuff’. His swift rise as an eighteen year-old reality star had taken its toll on his personality, the very thing that had made him so popular in the first place. His small stature, baby face, sweet nature and a choirboy innocence (that would have let him get away with murder) had endeared him to the public consciousness whilst the show was on. However, once the show finished and the offers came flowing in; the fame and the money, the parties and the celebrity all conspired to ruin him. The newspapers were quick to castigate such a ‘nasty little upstart’ and he quickly lost all the goodwill he’d had because of a series of devastating headlines. Whoever said that any publicity was good publicity was wrong when it came to the career of Gordon ‘Little’ Littlewood. Just two years after it had started, it was over. His small stature and schoolboy looks didn’t stop the papers from holding him up to public ridicule for his drunkenness, drug abuse but the final straw had been the rape charge. Twitter, newsgroups, social media and newspapers in general became like a pack of wolves around the subject of Gordon Littlewood. After all, the news media had decided, as he was over eighteen he was targetable. The public were getting fed up with rich, young, good-looking celebs; it was time to take them down a peg or seven. There was once a time when a gentler, more forgiving, atmosphere existed in the world but nowadays it had been replaced by anger, spite and lethal vindictiveness and, if you were in their sights and vulnerable, you were eaten alive. ‘Little’ became a BIG but unedifying story for the media and anyone with an axe to grind. It hadn’t helped that his sweet personality had so rapidly changed to become unbearable and self-possessed. The sad thing for Gordon was he had nothing to back up what people had seen in him in the first place. That easy charm he’d revealed in the show was perceived (thanks to those highly defamatory articles and gossip columns) as nothing more than fake. The fact that he was once a ‘nice lad’, corrupted by fame and turned into this spiteful, self-opinionated sleaze ball, was absolutely no defence. As the papers joyously pointed out, it was easy to blame everyone else for his self-inflicted failings. The rape charge was eventually thrown out of court for ‘lack of evidence’ but he was never completely exonerated, even though most people ultimately realised the accuser was sick and had made the entire scenario up. Unfortunately, by then it was all too late and, as everything was gone; the money, the fame, the ‘friends’ (who delightedly cashed in on his celebrity) and any self-respect he once might have had departed. So, at just nineteen (almost twenty) years old he stood on the bridge wondering what life would be like dead. # The playpen was quite large and comfy as he lay listening to the plinky-plonk sound of his mobile. He hugged Bunny Fluffytail and held tightly onto his fleecy blankie, whilst gazing up at the stars and flying horses that circled over his head. The large white dummy he gently slurped on was also a comfort as he waited for mummy to come and change his soaked nappy. Earlier in the day his mummy had gently pulled him from his crib where he was all warm and sleepy and checked on his wet night time protection. She only changed him after he’d suckled on his bottle of formula and eaten the large spoon’s full of mushy Honey Oaties he enjoyed so much. He liked it when mummy changed him. She spoke such sweet words, kissed and tickled his tummy, cleaned and powdered him in such a loving way that, even when he was wrapped in his clean thick new disposable, he wanted it to continue. Thankfully, once the process was complete and mummy was happy with the way her little baby boy was dressed, she’d hug and cuddle him tightly to her bosom and rock him as she hummed a little tune. He’d close his eyes and suck on his dum-dum whilst mummy patted his well cushioned bottom as she finished her devoted morning ritual. # Gordon no longer remembered his past, all he knew was the present and the affectionate attention mummy lavished on her ‘sweetums’. In fact Gordon no longer existed, he’d become Joshua or more exactly, Joshiwoo. Yes, that’s what mummy called him: “My sweet little Joshiwoo - the sweetest of sweetums in the entire world.” He’d learned to say ‘Mummy’ but very few real words passed his lips. Gurgles and chuckles, bubbles and smiles were all mummy needed from him. He’d stretched out his hands to cup his new white bear or call for his pink rabbit and make some baby words that had entered his head but even his conversation with his toys was mainly babble. He might call out for ‘Shnowy’ or ‘Bun-bun’, he knew their names but was still learning to say them properly, but most of his vocabulary was just one word and pointing. Sometimes he’d sob a little even though he didn’t know why, but mummy came and tenderly stroked his hair or gently hugged him until whatever had caused the tears had been banished. Sometimes the snuffles were just because he was hungry, other times that he was saturated but mainly it was because he loved to have his mummy play with him. His teddy and other stuffed animals were fun and always felt nice to hug but it was mummy he liked to hug the most. She’d play with him and make noises that the animals or toys made and he’d learn from repeating mummy’s words or sounds. # Angela Epstein (nee Applegate) had been married to Doctor Joshua Epstein for two years when tragedy struck. She was just finishing her own nursing qualification when a huge accident on the fog bound M1 motorway had taken the life of her husband, which left her almost completely destroyed. The only thing that kept her going was the recent news that she was expecting her first child so devoted the next few months into making sure the birth of their baby would be a wonderful, uncomplicated experience. Unfortunately, the birth had been a messy and painful experience and her son had died just minutes after he had been welcomed into the world. A series of neural and physical difficulties meant that the sweet little baby boy never drew breath and his heart-broken mother only got to hold him for a few seconds before he was rushed away. Angela fell into a deep depression and for a couple of years hardly went anywhere, spoke to anyone or allowed friends to comfort her. She was utterly devastated. Every waking hour she just thought of what her baby would be doing at that moment had he survived. She’d named him Joshua after his father but even naming him didn’t make much difference to the deep morose feelings that seemed to engulf her. # That was until one day, whilst walking through the city’s shopping mall she noticed a sign on a window display saying that there were staff vacancies. Despite everything that had happened, this opportune moment came when she looked into the display of clothes and baby items in Everything4Baby and for the first time felt happy rather than resentful. All the colourful cute outfits and items for baby for some reason now filled her full of pleasure and on a whim she applied for a job. At the interview she never mentioned the loss of her baby but did mention the loss of her husband. Her nursing background was seen as an advantage and within a week she found herself working in an environment that once would have filled her with sadness but now filled her with joy. Everything4Baby had given her a job and a purpose. She loved the new mummies coming in and excitedly buying cute new stuff for their upcoming child. She loved suggesting items and helping pick out little onesies, nappies, bottles and toys for these young mothers. She was often surrounded by a sea of babies with their parents all searching for that specific item to make their little one ‘individual’. Because of constant requests for that ‘unique’ or ‘designer’ item, she’d found new suppliers, designers and clothes makers who, at a price, would create something ‘different and special’ – perhaps surprisingly, there was a great deal of social one-upmanship and elitism in the world of baby clothes. She was good at her job and soon found that she rose up the staff ranking and within two years was managing the branch. A year later and she bought out the owner and set about a series of adjustments that would develop the business far beyond what had originally been planned. Because of the way she ran the enterprise, the place catered for mummies, babies and those interested in baby stuff, even if they weren’t quite real babies themselves. Everything4Baby could have been renamed ‘Everything4allbabies’ because of the diverse selection of customers who came into the shop. That was ten years ago and she’d never been happier. # However, one late night driving home she noticed a dishevelled and sad young boy looking like he was contemplating his life as she saw him climbing up onto the rail bridge’s safety barrier. A shiver of concern ran through her body but the fact that there were few people around made her slam on the brakes and decide to try to do something. The boy only looked to be in his early teens, possibly thirteen or fourteen, and immediately thought how old her own son would have been had he lived. Her heart went out to this obviously distressed young man. She had no idea what to say or do once she got there nor how he’d react, it was a matter of trying to do something rather than nothing. Angela knew it may already be too late and the boy may have plummeted onto the busy rail line below but she also knew she had to try and help him. “What if,” she imagined, “this had been her own son in such turmoil?” She’d hope that some passing Samaritan would try and help. # Part 2 They sparkle and twinkleth like diamonds caught in starlight Edmund White-Thomlinson (1801-1843) Joshiwoo was sucking on his bottle. The warm liquid filling his tum-tum and making him wriggle contentedly in mummy’s lap. He had no concept of time or of his past life, right now was the only thing he knew and to his mummy at least, he appeared happy enough. She kept him warm, safe, clean and loved. Yes LOVED. She had poured everything she knew, every resource possible, called in every favour and provided all she could into giving her new baby all the things she would have given to her own had fate not claimed him. She was now in possession of a boy who had been damaged by the consequences of his life and was in need of a new beginning, she was going to make sure he received it. # Angela had managed to get to the highly distraught boy just seconds before he jumped. He was surprised to see this woman approach and a brief thought that it was someone, like the rest of his money grabbing family and members of the public, who wanted to taunt him. But, and this had been the surprise, in a calm and soothing voice she had simply said: “Please don’t jump.” After the beating he’d taken from his family, friends, press and his most recent experience, these were the first tender and concerned words he’d heard in a long time. He was shaking as he stood on the railings; he really didn’t want to jump but could see no alternative to the mess he’d made of his young life. The hate he seemed to have generated, the nasty and vindictive personality he’d adopted, the laughing stock he’d become – none of this really suited him and it was time to end it all. But, he wavered as the kindly lady reached out and simply said: “Let’s make your life better.” The steady gloved hand hung in the night air as she managed to coax the young boy down. Angela was completely unaware who he was, he simply looked like a damaged young teen in desperate need of help. # Baby Joshua sucked on his dum-dum as his mummy patted his nicely padded bottom. She’d been amazed at how much liquid he was able to produce but now, several weeks in, she liked the look of her well-cushioned ‘son’ and the number of stuffers in his nappy certainly made him bulky but, as she smiled to herself, incredibly cute. His plastic pants were tight under the dinosaur onesie he wore to keep everything snug but it also helped the soft rustling sound as he shuffled about. Angela just loved to observe Joshiwoo as he played, napped and lived his new unencumbered life. “This is how it should have been.” She thought as Gordon became Joshua and she was able to be a proper mother to her ‘little’ one. Both had a new take on life; a new deal, a new reason to be alive… a brand new start. # When Angela had got the disturbed boy home he was shaking, tired and completely exhausted. She thought, whatever he’d been through, it must have been something quite traumatic. He was dirty, wretched and looked like a he could use a meal but, as he sat in her lounge; all he really wanted was to sleep. Without much thought other than helping the poor boy she suggested he take a bath and then, if he wanted, have a nice long sleep. Gordon was thankful for the suggestion and grateful for the offer of somewhere to stay for the night and, above all else, that he didn’t have to explain anything there and then. A warm bath and a bed were just what he needed. Whilst he relaxed for the first time in many months he let the warm embrace of the bath soothe his troubled mind. Meanwhile, Angela was busy making up the bed in the other room, the room that would have been Joshua’s. It was, despite the passage of time, still full of many of the nursery items she had bought all those years ago. Lying unmade against the far wall was the crib in which he would have spent those first few months of his life and a tremor ran through her body. Tears sprung to her eyes and she wept for her loss… it wasn’t the first time and she doubted it would be the last. # She went back to the bathroom to check on her guest and saw that he had fallen asleep. She smiled and returned to the room to make space for the inflatable mattress she manoeuvred into the place and added sheets and a blanket. When she’d finished she looked around the room, it still had very much the nursery and baby look; cartoon characters, baby animals in diapers, mobiles and loads of fluffy animals, toys, blankets and the soft, subdued lighting she though a baby might need. Using a selection of baby blankets she quickly made up the bed. It may not be what a teenager might want to sleep on but with all the soft fleecy material it certainly looked comfy. A thought flashed into her head – should she make him wear a nappy? It might have been because she was already in a hyped up state, being back in her child’s nursery but that weird thought seemed to come out of nowhere. It was true that whenever she ventured into the nursery all the ‘what might have been’ came flooding back. Even though the room never got to experience a child sleeping and playing in it there was an atmosphere of baby powder and infant about the place. Nappies danced for a few brief seconds in her head and, in her mind’s eye, she saw herself putting baby Joshua into a pair. She smiled at the thought but quickly realised her guest was hardly likely to wet the bed and didn’t think it a problem if he did, the inflatable was made of plastic so very little could be ruined. It had been a strange and unusual few moments, besides, she doubted if any of the baby stuff she had would fit a boy the size of the one snoozing in her bath. She laughed at her own silly thoughts and went to retrieve the slumbering lad. # A heap of filthy clothes piled on the chair needed sorting, there wasn’t much but far too dirty for him to sleep in. She decided to wash and dry them but was surprised to see a set of keys, a phone and a bunch of coins sat on top of the pile. The phone wasn’t turned on so might have been broken and if what she saw was the sum total of the boy’s money, he really was in a bad way. Anyway, none of it mattered at that moment so went off to find some pyjamas or shorts or ‘something’ he could wear. After several minutes searching she’d found very little that might be appropriate but a pair of her own flowery thick cotton winter PJs and some white cotton knickers she hadn’t worn in years. She decided that they would do temporarily and, after putting his dirty clothes into the washer, went and woke her sleepy soaking guest. # He took some rousing from the bath but eventually she was able to help him up and, after offering him a fresh towel, left him to dry off. He didn’t appear that bothered that a complete stranger was taking care of him and, seemed more than grateful, for the underwear and even the floral jammy bottoms. Her kindness and sympathy was just what he needed so was content to be warm and clean with someone fussing around him, it had been a while. The lighting in the bedroom was low and as she guided him towards the temporary inflatable. She apologised for not having a proper bed but assured him that others who had slept on it in the past had found it quite comfortable. He was really too tired to worry and just glad of a place to lie down, he would have happily stayed in the bath had she left him. She reminded him where the toilet was in case he needed it during the night and jokingly added that if he wet the bed then it would be nappies in future. A quizzical expression passed over his features (he hadn’t noticed the nursery print wall paper and the room’s other juvenile trappings), she giggled embarrassingly letting him know she was only making fun. He was well-tuckered out and, as the room was pleasantly warm lay out on the blankets, curled up into the foetal position, and almost immediately started drifting off to sleep. A quiet “Thank you” escaped his lips as he snuggled against the fleecy blankets. He slipped the soft material with the childish motifs over his body as a huge relaxed sigh and wiggle to get comfortable brought the evening as far as he was concerned to a close. Unconsciously she reached out and stroked his hair. “You’re welcome sweetheart.” Kneeling next to his bed she watched for a few moments as he settled down and soon his shallow breathing signalled he was asleep. Her heart once again went out to this poor little guy as she wondered what had driven him to contemplate suicide. However, at the same time she pondered this, she was also thinking of her lost baby and as she looked down on her sleeping visitor, all she really saw was her own son. Her heart welled up and she sobbed wishing that this poor boy was indeed her little boy and she could look after him and make sure he’d come to no further harm. As she looked on he lay there tightly cuddling the fleecy blanket in his left hand whilst his right made its way to his lips. She watched with a smile on her face as he soothed whatever worries he had with the aid of his spit soaked thumb. “Goodnight Joshua.” She whispered and kissed his head. # Part 3 “As you grow the small child within is not holding you back but offering a place to heal” Mohammed Devwhalli (1901 -2000) Baby Joshua was wet, very wet as he woke from his nap. He clutched ‘Sh-nowy’ tightly and its soft white fleecy coat tickled his face as he slowly returned to wakefulness. Almost immediately his mummy was by his side and letting down the bars of the crib, checking her boy’s night time protection and beamed with pleasure as she helped him get to his feet. He tried to return his happiness at seeing mummy again by smiling round his dummy but all that achieved was more drool dripping onto his brightly coloured onesie, his chest was almost as wet as his nappy. This was baby Joshua’s favourite part of the day when mummy cleaned him up, tickled and played fun games, bathed and dressed him. He’d giggle almost continually until she’d help him downstairs for something to eat. Sometime, if he’d had a restless night and was still half asleep, mummy would hold him in her arms whilst he drank his formula from a bottle. Once he’d sucked it all down she’d burp him and then put him down so he could sleep until he was ready to face the day. There was little point in changing him until then as he always wet when he slept and all that formula had to go somewhere. Mummy made sure the thick soak pads added to his nappy would keep him from completely flooding his cot. # Angela knew that she should be trying to get in touch with the boy’s parents so that they were aware he was OK. However, because he’d been in such a state she thought it better to wait, have a chat with her guest and then decide on who needed to be informed. Once this decision had been made she settled down on her sofa to catch up on some paperwork. It was very late. The events of the evening had eaten into the time but there were still things for work she had to do before the morning. As she examined the various bills, quotes, designs, worksheets etc. progress was very slow because her mind kept returning to the poor lad upstairs. She’d rescued the boy but now felt some kind of responsibility to him and his family. Her concentration level was poor until she happened on a bill from one of her ‘specialist’ firms. This small firm produced bespoke, original items in any size and had quickly become one of the main suppliers to her ‘alternative’ baby customers. When she’d first embarked on this side of furnishing the needs for this group of customers, she had to source the companies herself, check if they were up for making the items requested and then agreeing a supply chain, delivery dates and, most importantly, happy customers. All these points were achieved with relative ease and it could be said she was one of the few such providers in the county. Everything4Baby had quickly become the place to shop for such a market and, the once-a-month late night private shopping, had proved both popular and a location where like-minded people could meet and discuss their predilection - babies during the day, ABDL at night. Now as she examined the bill and the items ordered her mind focused on what it would be like to have something similar herself. It was for an adult crib with lockable sides and a deep soft plastic mattress with a baby duckling design. The person who requested it also wanted an entire set of bedding and baby clothes to match. It was a huge, expensive order but she had been able to coordinate all the different suppliers to work together and produce a superb finished product where all the component parts worked in harmony. She was justly proud of what the happy customer received and he, rightly, was nothing but praise as word spread throughout the community. * She slept fitfully that night. Her mind full of adult babies and the charming little get ups they wore. She’d often passed comment on how wonderful they all looked in their baby clothes: The made-to-measure nappies, shiny vinyl pants, dresses, onesies, pjs, colourful vests, bibs, cartoon all-in-ones, indeed, even the suppliers were delighted with this new, demanding and growing outlet for their pricey but high-end creations. However, when her dream started incorporating her visitor she struggled against the idea – it was stupid, insane, and probably even against the law and, more to the point, RECKLESS. However, dreams being dreams, the thought lingered and she became captive in a life, a dream life, which had him at its centre but as a baby. When she woke up she was most uncomfortable with what was in her head. There again… * She quietly opened his bedroom door and was surprised to see that he’d hardly moved in the night. He was still lying on top of the blankets although one was now gripped tightly against his body but she detected the tell-tale smell of urine. Despite her thinking it wouldn’t happen she soon realised that her guest hadn’t made it to the bathroom and could see the outline of the ‘tidemark’ around his floral cotton PJs. He was still fast asleep. She cautiously shook him awake. It took a while but eventually managed to get him to near consciousness as he looked around unsure of his bearings. “Sorry to wake you, er, erm, er,sweetie ,” she was a bit hesitant because she still didn’t know his name. “I have to go to work but, if you want to stay in bed, I’ll be home around lunchtime…” He yawned and stretched but was still unbelievably tired. “Er, OK.” He simply acknowledged her offer to stay in her home for a little longer; after all, he didn’t have anywhere else to go. “Yer, er, I could do with some more sleep… thank you.” He mumbled but smiled his thanks and waited for her to leave. As she hesitated at the door he suddenly realised that she might actually have some doubts about leaving him alone. “Oh, your stuff will be alright, I’m not a thief and I’m grateful to you for…” “No, no, it’s not that,” Now it was Angela’s turn to feel she needed to explain. “It’s just…” He suddenly became aware of the pool of smelly dampness he was lying in. “Oh for Christsake, what the fuc…” “No, no don’t worry… I… er, we can…” She saw him fling back the blanket he was clutching and look down at his soaked jammy bottoms and the urine soaked sheet he’d been lying on. The plastic inflatable mattress making sure no further harm was done but that also meant however much his bladder released had now soaked into everything else. He looked up at her and his irate expression changed to one of distress and regret. In that brief moment he’d changed from an angry young man into a sad little boy. His face screwed up in abject failure and was almost on the verge of letting his tearful emotions take control. It wasn’t a clever contrived reaction to his damp situation, it was real. For a few seconds there were no further exchanges, they were both a little overawed by what had happened. Eventually, he looked around the room and gave her an apologetic smile. “I suppose if I’m going to piss myself, at least I’m in the right place to do so… you’d better get the nappies ready.” * Although the last line was said as a joke his mind immediately slipped back to ‘There and Then - Here and Now’ the reality TV show he’d appeared on. It was roughly an updated, 24/7 version of the popular ‘Big Brother’ franchise with live and recorded segments broadcast (though which segment was recorded and which part live was never relayed to the contestants) of course there was also tasks to be completed daily. Each player gained points every twenty four hours depending on how well they ‘performed’; this was done by phone votes and logged on-line responses. Once the contestant was voted out of the house, their accrued points were available and up for grabs, which the public could then, via a live phone in, allocate to other members of the cast. This intense involvement from viewers had seen the show top the ratings and become the ‘must watch’ programme on TV. The newspapers ran an almost blow by blow account of the outrageous behaviour of the contestants, who became instant celebrities, whilst the public in general just couldn’t get enough of it… especially as they could submit tasks to be performed. This interaction was one of the segments of the re-vamped show the public liked best because they could actually appear on it via social media and suggest what was to happen. Although these bits looked ‘live’ they were in fact recorded so as to give the production crew time to get any props organised. # One such suggestion was to split the house into two - one side to be mummies and daddies, whilst the other had to be babies. Of course, as it turned out Gordon ended up being a baby and was suitably dressed. His small frame gave him an advantage and his bulky nappy, shiny plastic pants and frilly bonnet seemed just perfect for him as the challenge got underway. He took to the part like a duck to water and immersed himself in the antics of a baby. He was convincing and, with his little tubby tummy on show and the huge protection that the cameras just loved to constantly feature, he was the one the audience adored. The public loved this feature and called in with ideas for what they should wear, what they should be fed and the babyish games they should play. And, whereas the other ‘babies’ baulked at some of the suggestions; Gordon played the part to the fullest. On more than one occasion what they were dressed in bordered on the fetish rather than adolescent, whilst the outrageous bulky nappies, satin dresses or juvenile onesies were just too much for some. Those who were acting babies were not allowed to speak but could only make their wishes known by crying, pointing and gurgling. The six other babies were hopeless but Gordon proved to be a winner and made front page news in his cute baby outfit with this particular task when he wet and messed himself live on air. What the public were not aware of was that his ‘accident’ was just that. He hadn’t meant for it to happen but, a long nap, together with some rather dubious baby food and drink had led to a spectacular reaction. The stunned and confused expression on his face (and the tears that followed) was something that no one could ignore. The public were appalled and delighted, the ratings soared and Gordon won infamy as well as the public vote. It was he who walked away with the £250,000 prize at the end of the show. # Despite all this public affirmation and notoriety the programme had passed Angela by. She had of course heard of it but hated reality shows and rarely watched TV. She was also not in the least bit bothered about gossip (celebrity or otherwise) or indeed any sort of ‘popular culture’ so the fortunes of the shows ‘stars’ had come and gone without so much as a comment from her. She still had no idea who this soaked boy in her spare room was but who, at that moment, looked even more pathetic than he had when standing on the bridge preparing to commit suicide. His slim pale body, shaggy hair and big brown eyes doing nothing to confirm he was an adult. He really did look like a small child confused by the way his bladder had let him down. He had no excuse for why he wet the bed and possibly ruined a kindly woman’s patience… for a brief moment he wished he’d taken up her jokey reference to wearing a nappy. This was not the first time he’d wet himself, and not just on the TV show, that was one of the many things his ‘loving’ family were able to torment him about. He was constantly bullied by his family and being the youngest and smallest, he was an easy target. His occasional bouts of incontinence also added to the vast amount of abuse the boy suffered all his life… he was the butt of everyone’s jokes. He had no idea the reaction his stupid bodily malfunction would garner from this guardian angel. For Angela’s part, she knew he needed time to heal from whatever had driven him to contemplate that final act of self destruction. His pissing the bed only added to the boy’s vulnerability and further evidence he needed to be cared for. # Part 4 I fear a future that has no future Izzy Downing (1980 - ) from the poem ‘Magole’s Lament’ “Look, don’t worry about anything.” She looked around the nursery and thought he was right, it was the correct place to do it if you were going to pee your pants. “I have to go to work but, your clothes are in the washer and should be dry in a short while. If you can put all this stuff on at some point,” she said indicating the wet bedding, “I’d be very grateful.” Gordon nodded. “Thanks. Look,” she said as an afterthought, “if you want to go, please just drop the latch as you leave, but, should you want to take some time to think or… talk, I’ll be back at lunchtime and we can chat then. After all, I don’t even know your name.” Gordon couldn’t believe he hadn’t been recognised although in truth, he did look different now than he had when he was in the show. He was both suspicious and relieved that his identity was unknown and wondered how he could spin this anonymity to his advantage. “OK, and, if that’s alright with you… I’d like to stay a little longer to try and get my head in order… and a chat at lunchtime sounds fine.” He smiled and then as if to bring the conversation to an end looked down at the mess he’d made and grimaced. “I’ll have this all cleaned up by the time you return.” # It was a busy half-day in the shop for Angela. It seemed that everyone in town who was pregnant had decided to pay a visit and she was rushed off her feet. She didn’t mind that amount of business, she didn’t mind the questions, nor did she mind the continuous nervous and excited requests for advice and information. As manager/owner of Everything4Baby she was used to being asked everything from infant fashion guidance to relationship problems. It was that type of store and the reason why it had become so successful. Nevertheless, by 1pm she was completely shattered and ready to get home having in the past few hours temporarily forgotten about her guest. However, before she left she grabbed a couple of items from the storeroom and put in a call to one of her ‘specialist’ contacts. # Once home she was pleased to find him dressed and watching TV with a mug of coffee by his side. To Angela he looked even more like a young teenager; his now clean, if ripped, jeans and Call of Duty t-shirt, mop of ill-kempt hair, bare feet and nervous nod of acknowledgement only making him appear like a schoolboy truant. “Hello,” she smiled and carried things through to the kitchen. “Glad you decided to stay for a while.” She called over her shoulder. Gordon was engrossed in the programme but looked up and smiled as she zipped through the living room and up the stairs. “Yer, yer, er, I think I need time to, er, think… if that’s OK with you?” He called back to her. She disappeared into her bedroom but carried on the conversation… only a little louder. “No problem. Have you eaten?” Her voice carried from the bedroom as she slipped off her coat and sorted out some of the items she’d brought home. “I had some toast earlier, I’m not really hungry… er, can I get you a coffee, tea or something? You look like you’ve had a busy day?” Almost immediately she was back down stairs and into the living room. “Please, tea would be nice and yes… it has been very hectic.” Gordon busied himself in the kitchen boiling up the kettle, putting tea in the teapot, putting milk in a jug, although his brief search didn’t turn up any sugar. He saw there was one bone china cup and saucer and correctly assumed that was how she preferred her tea served. She was a stylish lady so no doubt drank her tea with a degree of finesse and that classy crockery, he thought, suited her just right. Meanwhile, Angela settled herself on the sofa and was looking forward to having a nice chat. # Joshiwoo lay on the carpet in front of the TV watching cartoons and burbling away to ‘Sh-nowy’. He was wearing only his little t-shirt and thick protection, his yellow plastic pants crinkling noisily as he swayed from side to side in time to the music. He was ‘singing’ along to the melody whilst watching the colourful characters light up the screen. His mummy really loved it when she could see her boy enjoying himself in such a way, it made it all worthwhile. Whatever doubts she may have once had, they were swept away by the sheer pleasure he gave her and the unconditional love she could shower on him. # Once he’d served tea Gordon came and sat down next to Angela. She turned off the TV and smiled. “Hi, I’m Angela.” She offered her hand and he took it. “Pleased to meet you Angela, er, I’m Terry.” Gordon lied. “Pleased to meet you too Terry.” She noticed that his t-shirt didn’t quite reach to top of his jeans. The waistband of his clean but ancient underwear was just visible and his little pale tummy appeared more apparent because of this revealing gap. Perhaps it was just her but this made him seem even more defenceless. Again, Angela desperately wanted to wrap him in her arms and let him know all was well, to take away any pain or hurt he had suffered and return him to a life of childish bliss. # As they chatted the story that ‘Terry’ wanted to tell slowly emerged. If she really didn’t know who he was (and she hadn’t given any indication she did) he thought he’d spin a story of near truths. She asked him if he shouldn’t let his family know he was OK, they might be worried but he countered with the fact that it was his abusive family he was escaping from. He lay on the abuse, sexual as well as mental, which wasn’t too far away from the truth (although the sexual abuse came later and not from his family). However, the fact was that his family were a bunch of nasty, self-serving, money-grabbing, thoughtless, vindictive degenerates who had loved Gordon’s fame and the money that success brought so who went all out to exploit him, and it, to the fullest. The fact that it all but destroyed him didn’t even register on their collective consciousness, they just saw the money. # From where Angela was listening little Terry was struggling with his tale. She could see the emotion just pour out and watched as he wriggled uncomfortably with some of his descriptions. Of course she believed everything he said, and most of it was true except he left out certain pieces of the jigsaw. No mention of the TV programme, the public humiliation or his later encounters with people even worse than his family passed his lips, he kept it all at a family level. Since he was a toddler the constant put downs, malicious words, spiteful actions and the relentless air of malevolence had been his unceasing companion. No childhood bliss for this boy. No ‘sweetness and light’ mother to comfort and cherish him. Apart from the fact he was the youngest so obviously an easy target, the reason they constantly put him down was because he was different. He did have a spark of kindness, affability, empathy and understanding but this showed his family up for what they were. Whenever this side of Gordon raised its head, the rest saw it as their duty to mock and mistreat him until he they would no longer be confronted by something that was actually considerate. No. No. No. Parents and siblings alike goaded their innocent little brother into becoming a monster. Because he’d been successful on TV and was a celeb they encouraged him to get an attitude, to demand rather than ask and to be as awful as they were, unfortunately for him, he took their advice. That was when his descent into oblivion started. It was them he was terrified of and, although he didn’t go into too much detail, what he left unsaid, Angela was able to fill in those horrifyingly painful blanks herself. He alluded to other things since he’d escaped from home and how he’d really screwed up elsewhere in his life. Again, specifics were left to her own imagination. Angela couldn’t understand how such a young boy could have so many troubles but as the story unfolded the reasons became apparent. The essentials were missing but it left his host in no doubt that her guest was the victim of some shocking and disturbing events. At one point his tears flowed and Angela comforted the poor boy hugging him through the worst of this emotional black spot. The tears had been real when Gordon realised just how completely abandoned and destitute he really was. He was so alone and broken that when the opportunity arose, clung to anyone who seemed to understand his situation. # Alas, the last people he had confided in had been only too pleased to find such an amiable ‘toy’ they could use and abuse. His celebrity had been a bonus as they kept him prisoner and sexually used and abused him for a few days. By the time they had finished, the boy that was already broken was just an empty shell who understood once and for all he was worthless. Their actions, together with all that had gone before, destroyed his spirit. The feeling of utter uselessness had driven him to that final decision; the only way to stop his suffering was to end it all. Angela was in tears herself by the time he’d finished explaining what had happened. She was both angry and sad at what the youngster had been through and railed against how terrible people were to take advantage of someone else’s suffering; especially such a defenceless young boy. So, his reasons for suicide were powerful and why he was in no rush to let anyone know where he was equally poignant. He was so very grateful to have someone, after so much pain, to actually care. Because of her kindness and concern in his darkest hour, he literally owed her his life. He wanted to disappear but, and this was down to Angela, he no longer wanted to kill himself. # As the story of his hateful family revealed more and more dysfunction, she began to feel very protective of this sad looking teenager. She still assumed he must be about the same age Joshua would have been had he lived, fourteen, but never got around to asking him his real age. She did ask if he’d thought about going to Social Services for help but he shrugged and said his mother always said that’s where they’d send him if he ever revealed anything about the family. In their house Social Services was regarded as the enemy and a place to be avoided; full of stress, horror and anxiety, staffed by hateful perverts and certainly more unpleasant than what he was already used to. The bullying family had certainly planted the notion he’d get no help from them. He had a deeper fear of Social Services than of his own appalling family. He said he was scared of what might happen if anyone knew he was still around and begged Angela not to tell anyone. That fear of being discovered and sent back to a life so abusive he shook with dread as he pleaded with her to keep his secret. He urgently wanted to become invisible so that to all intents and purposes he no longer existed. He wanted time to think and hopefully find some solution and perhaps start again… though exactly how he was to accomplish this he had no idea. However, he smiled when he looked deep into Angela’s eyes, as far as he was concerned she had lived up to her name because like an angel she’d rescued him. It was an emotional moment that wasn’t in the least insincere; it was an honest reaction to what had happened over the last twenty-four hours or so. She felt it as well. # There was a bond between them and it was getting mixed up in her mind. One second she could deal with this teenager with ease, knowing what was needed and what to do. The next moment, she only saw her son Joshua and desperately wanted to mother him and keep him safe. He had asked what she did for a living, so happily explained about her ‘little baby clothes shop’. The mention of ABDL stuff was left out of the conversation but she did allude to her ‘growing’ group of customers and how much she enjoyed the ‘fascinating’ world of babies. She didn’t want to go into any great explanation about living on her own but the observant little chap had noticed her wedding ring so simply confirmed that her husband had died. She didn’t enlighten him any further and wisely he realised it might be a prohibited area for discussion. However, that maternal feeling had been getting stronger the more time they spent chatting and foolishly she was getting comfortable with a ridiculous notion forming in her brain. An idea that was simply not practical or how things worked in the real world. Strangely, it was a feeling she’d had from the moment she’d coaxed him down from that bridge. When she thought about it, she’d already done things that were primarily, if unconsciously, aimed at ‘Terry’ being part of her family in some way or other. Although she couldn’t really keep him from a cruel world, every fibre of her body told her he needed protection and she felt almost compelled to be the one to do just that. # They talked for ages. Time didn’t seem to matter and ‘Terry’ was able to keep up his temporary façade simply because Angela saw no need to doubt or challenge him on anything he said. Over a hastily prepared meal he explained what he really wished for was a brand new start. He wished for a place where his family didn’t exist, where no one knew him and somewhere he felt safe. He looked at Angela with his huge innocent eyes and her heart melted. Despite the fact that she knew she shouldn’t be holding such thoughts, Angela wondered how easy it would be to grant that wish. To keep this scared boy in her protection. To keep him away from railway lines and that feeling of futility she’d observed when he hung nervously onto that bridge. This was not the act of an attention seeker; this was the last despairing act by someone who had come to the end of their reasoning. It was the final act of escape. Perhaps she could provide a better finale. # Eventually, the chat got less and less as tiredness crept in to their conversation. It was time for bed. Angela realised that she hadn’t checked in the nursery or made ‘Terry’ a bed for the night and was surprised that he’d already made up the inflatable mattress. “I wasn’t sure if… after last night’s, er, accident, that you’d let me stay another night” He looked shamefully at the ground. “I’m really sorry about that but, well, er, I couldn’t help it, I, er…” “Not to worry.” He was grateful she had interrupted his apology. It was difficult for him to admit that it wasn’t the first time to happen and also knew he couldn’t guarantee it wouldn’t happen again. He just hoped that he would be able to get to the toilet in time. She checked the bed was made up to her satisfaction. He’d piled all the clean and dry fleecy blankets he could find on top because they’d made him feel incredibly comfortable and strangely safe. “OK Terry,” he appeared at least to have the bedding sorted, although no doubt his brain would take a little longer to be equally as well organised. Now she could see he was organised in some way that made her feel sad. She wanted to think of him as a helpless toddler reliant on her for everything. She also wished she’d been able to use some of the items she’d brought home from work; the pack of disposables and the large plastic pants. In her mind she already saw his well-padded bottom snuggling down under the fleecy pale blue blanket but alas reality returned. Angela had no idea how she expected to get him to wear such items but that impulsiveness to bring them home in the first place made her think perhaps it was something he might need. As it turned out, the morning proved just that. # Part 5 A dream may inspire - so should never be ignored Dr Aaron Livitt (1900 – 1973) “Oh Josh… er, Terry.” Angela was aghast at the smell of pee and the fact that all the baby blankets were soaked and strewn in wet lumps around the inflatable mattress. ‘Terry’ was just coming round and had no real idea what was going on as nothing quite registered at that point. Judging by the state of the bedding her guest probably had a very disturbed night. He also must have pissed a couple of gallons around the place for everything to get so saturated. The warmth of the room only emphasised the smell but he seemed oblivious to what had happened. # He lay there all but naked wearing only his soaked and stinky underpants as Angela busied herself in drawing back the blinds and opening a window. A cool gust of wind agitated the air and sent a shiver briefly across the wet boy’s body. It was that cooling shock which woke him up to realise what he’d done. In remarkable quick succession of expressions - horror, confusion and sadness - crossed his face. He knew he was in trouble, thinking no one would put up with an adult pissing the bed. Seeing ‘Terry’ coming to terms with his damp situation Angela couldn’t help but think she already had the solution to the problem. “OK mister,” she picked up a few of the soaked items. “This isn’t going to happen again.” Despite herself she admonished him as if he was a toddler because, in her eyes, she thought of him as a young teenager not an adult. He didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, guilt let it pass. Everything was soaked but any excuse he hoped to come up with was a nonstarter because there wasn’t one he could offer to explain why this happened for a second time. She looked in his bleary, almost tearful eyes and saw only despondency as he tried to emerge from a rather deep and what had been to him at least a rather peaceful sleep. Indeed, the last two nights had proved wonderful for his ability to sleep without any anxious thoughts, stress or fear. So, when Angela hinted that precautions would be taken in future he simply accepted it. “Yer, ermm, sorry, I, er, ermmmmm, sorry.” His voice was feeble and filled with dejection. He’d slept with a warm glow making him feel safe and secure; he hadn’t worked out that maybe that ‘glow’ wasn’t just an internal feeling but a physical one as well. # He tried to think why he’d pissed himself again. Once could have been an accident but a second time just seemed laziness. There were no dreams he could remember that might have caused it, all he could remember was that as he slept he was no longer concerned about anything. Indeed, the room was at a pleasant temperature, the fleecy blankets cosy, the bouncy mattress comfortable; he’d slept in a haze of utter contentment. He was at a place, and more importantly, with someone who cared, so, after the year he’d had this was an unbelievable bonus. He didn’t want it to end by alienating the one person who’d stretched out a helping hand. # The open window allowing a cool breeze to circulate the room drew attention to ‘Terry’s’ soaked underwear; his limp penis damply outlined as the white discoloured material stuck against genitals and pubic hair. He felt guilty and tried to cover up but of course Angela had seen all there was to see and wasn’t impressed. Guilt turned to apprehension, he certainly didn’t want to leave this safe haven and find himself back out in a world he’d so recently wanted to depart. She may be an angel but… even angels must have a natural abhorrence of pissy people so realised, if he proved too much of a burden, that he couldn’t rely on her understanding to keep a place in the house. He nodded at the inferred changes, although she didn’t say what, as she picked up all the damp stuff. As she inspected one of the scrunched-up, wet fleecy sheets a little sigh escaped her lips. It wasn’t aimed at ‘Terry’ but he caught what that sound might suggest. In fact, she was merely remembering when she’d bought it - the day after she’d been told of her pregnancy and in a deliriously happy mood had seen it in a shop window and bought it on a whim. # Angela went to the bathroom and returned with a hand towel. She pointed to his groin indicating his underwear needed to join everything else in the wash. Feeling greatly embarrassed he sheepishly removed and handed them over. He could barely make eye contact he felt so small, stupid and babyish. Wetting again had literally dampened any of the confidence he was getting back. She left the room with a pile of washing and a raised eyebrow as he timidly held the small piece of fabric against his genitals. To Angela this image just confirmed once again what a shy, innocent and tragic little boy she had under her roof. The room temperature had certainly dropped a few degrees; this was partly due to the open window but mainly to the shame he was feeling. Of course, standing around naked didn’t help. He shivered and wondered if because of this incident he’d have to leave. His body shook at the thought, whilst his breathing became strained and his chest tightened. There was a sudden rush of fear because he was scared of being out in public again… he wasn’t ready. His head was filled with worry and unexpectedly his panic attack resulted in something else. His bladder contracted and a stream of warm golden piss flooded the towel pressed against his lower extremities. “Oh for fuck’s sake.” # He took a shower and hoped to feel better when finished. As he scrubbed away the debris of his wet night, and surreptitiously wrung out the freshly washed towel, he reviewed the conversation and thought that Angela’s words hadn’t actually meant he was being thrown out, which was a great relief. However, he also knew she rightly had some concerns and decided to comply with whatever was requested. He thought it only fair and besides, for the moment, he had no better plans and nowhere else to go. He realised he needed her to continue to care. When he returned to the nursery everything had been picked up. All that was left was the grey inflated plastic mattress, which he’d found surprisingly comfy to sleep on. The damp sheets and blankets had all been removed and the place was left looking more like a child’s nursery than it had appeared before. She’d also given the room a quick spray of air freshener, which certainly helped. # As if seeing it for the first time he really investigated the room. The paper on the walls, the soft pastel colours and the images of baby animals in nappies were all really quite endearing. He was suddenly jealous of their innocence, half of him wished he could turn back the clock but then remembered his childhood hadn’t been all that wonderful. However, those smiling, happy images made him wish for better times. He wondered about the unmade crib and whilst nosing around in the drawers and closet noticed baby clothes and toys. He took out and examined one of the small white onesies that again was incredibly soft but so tiny only a new baby would fit into. He wasn’t sure if they were for a particular infant, or items from her shop. # She hadn’t told him about her lost child although they had talked about her husband and ‘Terry’ thought that perhaps his Good Samaritan might be pleased to have company for a little while. Although she seemed happy and organised he had wondered if she might be a bit lonely to have taken him in so readily. However, as he dried himself down he deliberated if she had kids of her own. She hadn’t mentioned it but the nursery setting meant she had, or was thinking about, babies. He was still thinking of that when he looked around for his clothes. As he’d arrived at Angela’s home wearing only the clothes on his back, his choice of attire was limited. He still had his jeans and shirt piled on a chair where he’d dumped them the previous night. However, also set out on the dresser, next to his phone, keys and small pile of change, were the washed white knickers and PJ bottoms she’d given him the night he arrived. They were a lot more comfortable to wear around the house so slipped into them and, barefooted, made his way to the kitchen. # “Angela.” “Yes Terry.” “My er, the spare room, the er, nursery… is that for your baby or stuff from work?” Angela knew that this observation would come at some point but was conflicted about telling the truth. “Mostly items from the shop.” She decided on keeping the real reason to herself, even though some of that stuff had been around for fourteen years or more. “I keep some things to check details, quality, you know, and make reports back to the suppliers.” She wasn’t sure if he believed her but it sounded plausible. “What about the wall paper?” “Er, well, er, it was like that when I took this place on and I, well, I thought it looked cute so just haven’t got around to re-doing that room yet.” She smiled through her lie hoping it would be the end of that particular line of questions. It was. # “Look,” ‘Terry’ said sheepishly, “I’m so sorry about all the extra work I made for you last night. I don’t mind doing the washing myself, I don’t see why you should be inconvenienced. I mean, you took me in and, er, this is not the payment you probably expected.” Angela looked at him in a strange and irritated way. “I didn’t… and don’t expect any payment.” She seemed aggravated. “You needed help and I was pleased I could offer it and… and… there is no rush on this… when you feel able to, I’m hopeful you’ll get on with your young life in a happier frame of mind.” The words streamed from her mouth but it was apparent she was angry at the very suggestion of some kind of payment. “I’m sorry,” ‘Terry’ gulped at the gaffe he realised he’d made. “I didn’t mean that the way it came out.” He looked guiltily down at his bare feet. “I meant, erm, it was a poor way for me to repay your kindness by giving your more work… erm.. er... Oh, I’m sorry if it came out any other way.” Angela was pleased that he was a bit on the defensive because she hoped it would end the ‘nursery’ discussion. However, the main reason she was angry was that some kind of ‘payment’ had crossed her mind but probably not in a way ‘Terry’ would have thought. She instantly calmed down. “Of course sweetheart, I’m sorry I jumped down your throat.” She smiled an apology. “Of course you didn’t mean anything by it and you don’t have to worry. You can stay here until you are ready to move on. We need to get you that ‘new start’ you said you wanted.” She ran her hand down the chastised boy’s arm in a friendly manner. “Now… what would you like for breakfast?” # Part 6 Take your destiny out of the hands of others anon Angela’s house was bigger than something a single person might need. She and husband Joshua had fallen in love with its rural cuteness and proximity to the city: it seemed to have the best of both worlds. After his death, and the death of their child, she couldn’t bear to part with the only thing that linked them all together, so she stayed and her love for the place had increased with time. She couldn’t imagine living anywhere else and, thanks to the huge insurance pay out, she didn’t need to find anywhere smaller. That was partly why she never re-furnished the much hoped for nursery. It was that one contact between them all and she simply hadn’t wanted to change things. Joshua, her darling doctor husband, had loved decorating the room ready for their first child. He’d done it on whim just two days after he’d been told the news Angela was expecting, and only a week before he died so tragically. No, the room stayed as it was and how it should have been. Those sweet little animals wearing nappies were just typical of her hubby. He was thoughtful, loving and soppy; all the things that had made Angela fall for him in the first place. # The property was a large, three bedroom detached house at the bottom of a cul-de-sac. It had plenty of land around it and the large back garden led down to a fence that separated it from a rough piece of common land full of weeds and tall grass. Downstairs the house had a large kitchen that led through to a utility room and garage on one side, whilst the other had a nice sized lounge and a similar sized dining room. Upstairs was Angela’s en-suite main bedroom, a small box-room, another family bathroom and a further two similar sized bedrooms. One had the nursery, the other, which would have been the child’s play-area, was full of junk Angela hadn’t got around to sorting out or throwing away. # From the moment she saw the young man about to commit suicide Angela’s submerged maternal feelings had surfaced. She wasn’t totally aware at the time but there was no doubt about it, she was definitely thinking nurturing thoughts about her guest. With the revelations about his life she became even more motherly and just wanted to protect the boy from a world that had so cruelly dumped on him. At work she’d been able to keep any maternal feelings under control. Surrounded by happy, weepy, terrified mothers (and mothers-to-be) she saw it as her duty to be caring but not to drown in the entire baby and baby clothing industry. One of the things that stopped her getting trapped in that hormonal clique was her ‘other’ customers, the ones who had a different take on the baby business. She loved the idea of grown-ups dressing and acting as toddlers or attempting to stem the rush to adulthood of certain children who needed more time. There appeared to be many different reasons for the ABDL community (she now knew her customer’s desires had a title) to want a shop like hers and was pleased to be able to satisfy that need. The mail order side of it alone had blossomed from absolutely nothing into a very lucrative part of the enterprise and Angela was satisfied with all the new suppliers and customers it brought her into contact with. She was surprised at just how big that particular community actually was and intrigued by many of her client’s requests, whilst being fascinated by the alternative ‘babies’ and ‘toddlers’ she met in store. # As word spreads throughout the ‘community’ these gatherings became more and more popular. On those special Sundays mummies and daddies brought their ‘little ones’ out for this brief, but much needed, social meeting. Kids, teens, and middle aged men and women, dressed in a variety of juvenile attire and often very thick protection, would somehow all be happily playing together, whilst their ‘carers’ looked on; exchanging stories, advice, buying new clothes and planning other more specialist purchases. Graham ‘Daddy’ Griffin was a rich, powerful looking man with a very gentle way of speech. He had two young teen boys he dressed as twin toddlers who always looked so sweet and innocent together. In their matching little outfits they would play together whilst ‘Daddy’ shopped. Their bulky nappies only partly contained in tiny shiny nylon shorts as the cuffs of their plastic pants peaked out from the leg-holes whilst they careered around the place. He lavished toys, gifts and the cutest of cute baby style clothes on them, which, as far as Angela was concerned, made them simply adorable. Since Mr Griffin and his boys had first entered Everything4Baby Angela had thought them the cutest of cute ‘families’. Many of her other customers played their part and acted as kids but this seemed more real. In fact it was very real and it aroused her curiosity. In a quiet moment, when she asked him how he was able to keep them so young and dependent on him, he confided it was down to constant positive reinforcement of their toddler status. Also, encouragement that they were both very good boys, a rather wonderful subliminal audio file he’d developed over the years and, he whispered as if it was the biggest secret of them all, “A file of Blueline30”. This last piece of information stuck in her mind. She had no idea what it was or what it might refer to but the name stuck. # Joshua was wet through. It was a Sunday afternoon and mummy needed to attend to other business so unfortunately had to desert him for some time. She hated leaving her Sweetums alone at all but occasionally, especially as the company was going through a bit of transition, it just couldn’t be helped. He had plenty of things in his large playpen to keep him occupied but for the last hour and a half he’d been crying on and off because his nappy was full and uncomfortable. Mummy had put him in an extra-large disposable with several thick gel absorbency pads in the hope that it would hold him until her return. It almost had but his rather cute little butterfly onesie, with matching plastic pants had reached its absorbent limits. There were four snaps at its crotch to hold the onesie in place. Unfortunately, the two middle ones had popped under the strain so her little bundle of joy looked like he’d had a medical accident. The huge bloated nappy had squeezed out of the gap and made it look like some huge growth had appeared between his legs. The butterfly motif on his plastic pants looked none too happy at being put under such stress. He stood holding the bars searching for any sign of mummy - his baby coordination not allowing him any chance of escape. Meanwhile, the pet lip and snivelling sobs made him one very unhappy baby. The TV was running a cartoon channel and the radio was tuned to a children’s music station, it was hoped that between them and his toys they would keep her little boy entertained until she returned. A low moan escaped the little chap’s lips as he plopped down, exhausted from all his crying and standing, hardly noticing the squelch as he landed on his padded bottom. The sudden pressure on his bloated protection burst the final two snaps and releasing his onesie, which flew up to his chest, leaving the startled boy staring at his swollen plastic pants. He didn’t know what to do so snatched up Bunny Fluffytail and clutched her tightly. Worried about the loss of his mummy, being alone and seeking some kind of comfort, he pushed the stuffed animal’s ear into his mouth and sucked. He hadn’t noticed that his dum-dum was on a ribbon pinned to his onesie just inches away. However, Bun-Bun’s ear was a comfort and eventually he sunk into a sleepy doze with his head resting against the bars of the playpen. # As soon as Angela had left for work ‘Terry’ cleaned up his mess, shoved it in the washer and tumble dried all the bedding. He really hated the fact that he’d wet and promised himself it wouldn’t happen again. He also wanted Angela to note that he wasn’t leaving everything to her; he was quite prepared to pull his weight, if she would let him. He found the vacuum cleaner and went around all the rooms lost for a short while in the sucking up of dust and worrying about nothing else. He left Angela’s room, thinking it would be a bit disrespectful to enter uninvited but made a mental note to explain why he had not ventured in. The house wasn’t in bad order but it was obvious that Angela was a very busy woman and had very little time for intense housekeeping. ‘Terry’ was happy to do his bit, cleaning the kitchen, organising the utility room and even ironing some of the items once they were dry. It didn’t take him long and once he’d plumped up the cushions, was happy to just lounge around with nothing more taxing than decide which TV channel to watch. # Whilst her guest had that to decide, Angela was in the throes of starting to make some significant changes to her work life. She had resolved that ‘Terry’ was too precious to leave to the vagaries of chance. He had met with nothing but abuse and harm his entire existence and was determined, one way or another, to change that for him. She was angry that such a sweet natured teenager should have suffered so much in his young life. As it was an opportunity arose for her to find out a little more about this ABDL thing that was now occupying a great deal of her business. A supplier had sent an order to the shop instead of direct to the customer. It was a pair of matching shortalls that Daddy Griffin had ordered for his twin boys so Angela put in a call asking if he’d like her to send them on or, if he was in the vicinity, perhaps he’d like to call in. He said he’d pick them up that lunchtime and, he added flirtily, if she was available he’d like to take her to lunch. Needing information she coyly accepted his invitation and hoped this man would provide it. # Perhaps unsurprisingly Angela’s most recent dream had featured, yet again, baby Joshua except with the face and teenage build of ‘Terry’. The dream was bizarre because this amalgamation of two different people didn’t concern her. In fact, in the dream, baby ‘Terry’ crawling around dressed only as an infant had appeared the most natural thing in the world. Even friends who were visiting appeared to accept this large child and everyone loved the cute, loving way he did everything. She’d woken up with this dream very much at the forefront of her mind and, together with the ABDL stuff she’d learned, wondered just how feasible it would be to transform Terry into a dependent little baby. Of course, she was having internal arguments about this game-changing course of action, but still, when she eventually settled the quarrel in her head, it ended up with Terry being with her but not as a teenager. That maternal feeling, the idea of being a mother and having someone completely dependent on her, was very powerful. Logic escaped her as she wondered if her ABDL friends and acquaintances might be able to help. She had no real idea just what steps, if any, needed to be taken, though Mr Griffin’s earlier chat about his boys had firmly planted a seed. # Angela had been unable to find any reference to Blueline30 on the net, although had found a great deal about various tones, rhythms and hypnosis. She’d read that for many Adult Babies/Diaper Lovers (she quite liked the term ‘Diapers’ but wondered if there was perhaps an English version, maybe the TNLL, The Nappy Lovers League?) their only involvement was the wearing of nappies and other childish regalia. For others there was a deeper need which liked a mummy and daddy relationship, whilst for different reasons, some needed to be coerced into a regressed but happier state of mind. This final condition of returning a person to childhood really appealed to her. She wondered about using a similar strategy on Terry and perhaps letting him once and for all, escape from the rotten life that seemed to have engulfed him. # She had taken to ‘Terry’ the second she’d seen this distraught young boy contemplating ending his life. Angela remembered being swamped with concern and compassion, feelings that overwhelmed her to the point her unintended emotions took complete control. She hadn’t known the backstory then yet everything she saw in those initial few seconds screamed at her to look after this boy. What psychic power, what interference from God, what blessings from above had suddenly entered her thoughts, she had no idea. However, she knew instantly she had to protect this child. Unbeknown to both the seed for Gordon’s /Terry’s adoption and regression had been there from that very first sighting. Her soothing initial words, that first understanding touch and the deep desire to be loved by the seriously scared youth clinging to the railings and about to jump to his death, had been Kismet. Fate and fortune intertwined, their future forever interlocked. Although neither was aware of it, both parties needed something, someone in their lives. The stars had aligned and their destiny became one. Gordon didn’t know it but Angela instinctively knew her life was about to change. She had a vision of that future almost immediately, why or where these thoughts /ideas/desires came from was unknown but they had assailed her in several ways. Somehow she knew that this grubby young teenager was destined to be in her life for a long time. She didn’t exactly know how but intended to see it through and hoped that the reason would present itself eventually. # Over lunch Graham Griffin proved to be wonderful company. For the first time in many years Angela was able to relax in the presence of another man. Not that she’d been off-hand or terrified in the past, it was just that there was always a guilty feeling that she was somehow betraying her late husband by even speaking with another man. Graham was different. He was polite, respected boundaries, was playful in the way he addressed her and wasn’t in the least bit pushy, letting Angela lead the conversation. As the lunch progressed Graham (they were now on first name terms) was full of praise for how Angela had taken Everything4Baby and managed to develop it so well. He told her how much it was appreciated by the ‘community’ that she had made space for them to meet and how clever it was to hold that gathering in the shop – the latest baby ranges giving everyone new and exciting ideas. They valued the lengths she had gone to in developing new suppliers, fostering novel ideas, encouraging innovation in parallel with her main business, and in such diverse ways. He also made known that because of her meetings, others planned on having ABDL gatherings at their homes or premises. So the group was becoming even friendlier and more community spirited. Because of this, he tentatively asked if she herself had such preferences, then immediately apologised for being so forward and presumptive that it was something she would share with a relative stranger. # She flushed a bright red and again Graham apologised for being so invasive but she waved her hand to indicate he had no reason to express regret but confirmed she herself had no such desires. However, Angela decided to tell him a few things that she hoped would explain her current interest in all things ABDL but first asked if this smart debonair man wore nappies and such himself. His face split into a huge grin as he laughed out loud. “No, no, no… I love to see them on others and I can understand why some love to wear them but for myself, no.” He elucidated. “My interest is in my boys. When I first knew about them they were young tearaways heading for a rather gloomy existence. Their past had been horrendous and they’d been horribly scarred by their juvenile life… parents, (he shrugged and sighed) an uncaring and hostile environment. I wanted to change that.” This of course struck a chord with Angela. “I’d like to say I did it for the best of reasons but, in truth, they give me far more than I can give them.” He looked down at his empty plate. “I fear I’ve robbed them of growing up to be noisy, naughty, mistake-making, uncaring teenagers, growing into adulthood.” He looked Angela in the eyes. “I love my boys and would do anything for them but I can’t let them ever be anything but toddlers. I’d hate the world to crush them and I have no doubt that the direction they were going, and the choices they’d already made, that would have happened.” He gave a huge sigh. “I can prevent that so they can have a stress-free life of nappies and toys, playtime and fun for as long as I have the ability to give it to them.” He was surprised after such a confession that Angela wasn’t being judgemental. She’d seen how happy and loving the boys were when she had met them on previous occasions at those Sunday meetings. How keen they were to do as daddy said and how polite they were to everyone. They almost glowed with pride if daddy praised them, which he often did, and they would giggle and wriggle in a joyously boyish way before getting back to their play. Graham confessed further that when he’d put the boys in nappies at the very beginning he thought they looked so damn cute and innocent it was difficult seeing them in any other way. It became the prototype look, the one that he based all other decisions on. So, that’s how they were kept, reliant on ‘daddy’ to change and look after them and for them to remain unsophisticated - pure and infantile. # Angela was more than a bit surprised that her lunchtime companion should have spoken so openly about his boys, and yet she understood perfectly. Was this not the way she hoped to help Terry achieve his ambition of a new start? Was this not exactly the same scenario that might just lead to complete contentment on both his and her part? She was excited to know more. Part 7 To reach your peak, there are many steps to climb Mary Rutherford (1701-1754) Baby Joshua snuggled up to mummy’s bosom, he loved the way she held him tightly - it was such a warm embrace. He wriggled blissfully as he sucked his favourite drink, his mummy encouraging each enjoyable mouthful, saying what a good boy Little Joshi was. She’d pat his padded bottom and slide her hand over the silky vinyl admiring the soft but necessary bulk beneath. Joshua had proved to be a very wet boy who needed his protection especially when he was getting ready to go ‘night-night’. The double fabric nappies and soaker pads making sure her bundle of joy kept his bedding dry no matter how swamped he got whilst sleeping. He squirmed some more as he finished his drink and mummy lifted to burp him before returning her sweet baby back to her loving embrace. Joshua settled his head between mummy’s soft breasts and gurgled his pleasure. Angela slipped a large silicon dum-dum in and let him slowly drift off, which he nearly always did once his darling little tummy was full of milk. Mummy purred and gently rocked him, not quite believing that her life was now complete. His innocent unconditional love and total dependence on her may have been time consuming but she wouldn’t have it any other way. She loved everything about Baby Joshua; his baby talk, his baby clothes, his smiling face, the way his eyes lit up when she picked him up and his lack of any understanding apart from “Mummy”. She loved the way he giggled when tickled and changed. She found that he offered her so much more than she anticipated – he was such an adorable little boy. # “What is Bluefile30?” Angela queried. “I could find no reference to it online so feel it’s something I should know about but don’t.” “Ah. I see you’ve been doing some research.” Graham smiled. “That’s what I call it. It’s a neural inhibitor but the title is so damn technical I can never exactly remember it all. However, it comes to me in a glass file with a blue line down it and it is graduated into thirty doses.” He smiled again as if hoping this explained everything. “Thus Blueline30… you understand?” Angela nodded but still felt none the wiser. Graham could see her confusion. “Erm, let me try and explain.” He lowered his voice and Angela drew nearer to be able to hear his whispered tone. “This drug has the mechanism to stop certain actions and responses that say, you and I take for granted, from reaching the brain…er… in particular the pre-frontal cortex.” He looked to see if Angela was following his line of conversation. She was very interested even if she did find it all a bit difficult to follow. He explained some more about the technical and psychological as well as chemical and neurological reactions this drug offered but ended with the phrase that stuck in Angela’s mind. “In return it makes access to the amygdala area, the area that has more to do with childhood, open up and respond to very simple instruction.” She nodded sagely but inside her stomach had butterflies – was this the panacea? Was this the actual thing she needed to fulfil her nurturing desires? She was enthused and needed to know more. # “It has helped me, and I have to confess one or two others, in taking our ‘babies’ back to a simpler time. It regresses the mind, breaks down resistance and makes the subject far more acquiescent to suggestion. Thus, when used in conjunction with positive enforcement, certain deep subliminal words and sound waves, it releases various pleasure neurons which make the subject very, very happy.” Angela was captivated by the possibilities and suddenly saw a real opportunity opening up in front of her. She was excited at the prospect of what she’d be able to do and what the happy result would be for ‘Terry’. The new start he wanted looked like it was a distinct possibility. “Is it safe?” It was a question that Angela asked but wondered if she was all that bothered about the answer… and she felt slightly guilty that this negative thought had flashed through her brain. “Well, Andy and Jamie (his boys) have been on it for some time now. The doses are a lot smaller and less frequent and my only complaint is… they’re just too loving.” She nodded but wanted further clarification. “What did you mean by ‘it stops certain actions and responses you and I take for granted’?” Graham leaned in even further and whispered his response. “The plus side - the recipient is very loving but the most obvious and immediate reaction to the drug is it removes any control over the bladder... and a little later… the bowel.” He shrugged apologetically as if he was offering a warning to the downside of the treatment. “So, a supply of nappies and all sorts of other protection is needed from the start. Being well prepared from the very beginning is paramount. I’m used to it with my boys so it’s not a problem but at first I wasn’t expecting such instant and dramatic results.” His eyes lit up as they always appeared to do when he referenced his boys. He grinned. “They constantly want to be held, hugged, kissed… and changed… I never get a moment’s peace.” He let out a huge belly laugh. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way… they give me a life that I love and I love my boys.” # Angela’s mind was buzzing with all this information - the opportunities and possibilities that had suddenly presented themselves. She had confided in Graham that she could do with some Blueline30 because of an errant nephew who was getting way out of hand. She didn’t go into too much detail but flippantly told him that it seemed a wonderful ‘cure all’ to such a problem. The boy had been a wonderful and beautiful baby, it was a shame he couldn’t be returned to such a state. Angela schemed a little by painting this ‘nephew’ in similar colours to Graham’s own boys – on a downward slope heading for a criminal future etc etc. She made it sound like unfortunately nothing could be done for him as he was probably too far down that road to self-oblivion. Graham had sympathy with the situation and offered (as Angela hoped he would) to get a file and bring it in the following day when he’d have the boys with him. She thanked him but tried to deflect him from thinking it was for her use by wondered if her ‘sister’ would go along with such treatment. However, she added, it might be worth a try. # Despite the excitement that was bubbling inside her about such a prospect she changed the subject and asked where the boys were. Apparently Graham’s sister was looking after them. They called her Nanny and she took as much joy from their childish ways as their daddy. “What a fantastic idea… to have a nanny… that must be such a help?” Angela was now forever on a quest for more and more knowledge. “Yes, yes it is.” He looked at his watch. “I’m sorry Angela but, help or no help, I need to collect my boys… and no doubt you need to return to the shop.” “Good heaven’s… is that the time?” She picked up her things and handed the package of coveralls to Graham. “I’m sure Jamie and Andy will look delightful in these… I look forward to seeing them… sometime.” They parted with a smile, a shake of hands and a promise that he’d return the following day. # Later that evening when she arrived home her mind was full of all manner of plans. She had already spoken to some of her suppliers and got quotes and given instruction for new specialised items to be delivered to her home. Angela could see the future from her perspective and was eager to get things underway. She was pleased to see that Terry had hoovered and tidied the place up a bit and that he had started preparing a meal for them both. “You shouldn’t have gone to such trouble Terry… but thank you… it is appreciated.” He was delighted he’d been able to please her. “No trouble at all, however, I didn’t vacuum your bedroom, erm, sorry but, I, er, thought it a bit presumptuous to enter your space. She smiled at his respectful manner and again thanked him for his thoughtfulness. The fact that such hesitation to do anything that might upset her was also pleasing to her plans. The other gratifying thing was – he was only dressed in her floral pyjama pants and a t-shirt, which simply emphasised his adolescent quality. Whilst he continued preparing the meal Angela went upstairs to change out of her clothes and to put on something a little more comfortable. Before she did she inspected the nursery and saw how tidy he’d made it and even how comfy the inflatable looked with its clean and fresh bedding nicely laid out. However, she was now full of ideas so before venturing back downstairs to join Terry for the meal she lay out a pair of semi-transparent plastic pants and a disposable on top of his bed. She wasn’t going to insist he wear them but hoped that he would feel compelled into doing so if she could make him feel guilty about wetting before they retired for the evening. # The meal was a pasta dish that Terry had cobbled together using a can of soup, and a mixture of ham, cheese and a few mixed herbs to make the sauce. Angela was impressed that such a young boy (she just couldn’t see him as a young man) had such culinary skills. There was a huge amount and perhaps surprisingly delicious, she was impressed that he was being so helpful. They sat and chatted for a while before she excused herself to do some work on her laptop and left him to watch TV on his own. She spent a couple of hours catching up and responding to email and other queries and was overjoyed to get a message from a firm that said they had the item she’d requested in stock. Delivery and erection could be made in 24 hours if desired and that the other items would take approximately four days. She was pretty pleased with the efficiency of this particular supplier but she had given him a great deal of business over the past few years. # Later, she returned with a hot drink for them both and they settled in front of the TV for a drama and the late news. However, once he’d finished it, and it was time to retire, she wondered if perhaps having tea so close to bed time had been a good idea. It was a very obvious hint but she didn’t exactly say the words about him not soaking the bed. However, she did imply that there were precautions left out should he want to avail himself of them. With that she excused herself, wished him a goodnight and climbed the stairs leaving Terry to contemplate what had just been said. He had no inkling as to what exactly those precautions might be so shrugged, took the empty cups into the kitchen, and washed them before calling it a day. He was astonished to see what Angela had left out. Under normal circumstances he’d have rebelled against such babyish items, even though they were the correct size for him. He had wet the bed twice and almost convinced himself he wouldn’t do it again but still there was a nagging doubt whether he’d succeed. However, the resentment that such items instilled brought on flashbacks to when his older brothers and sister made him wear nappies for their own amusement. # From a very early age they had used the fact that he was the youngest, and therefore most compliant, to entertain them by making him wet his pants. He was late to be potty trained and that seemed the excuse to continue his embarrassment. It wasn’t always his fault, often, as he slept, they would piss on him so that it looked like he’d pissed himself during the night. His mother, unaware of the truth (she wouldn’t believe her youngest son’s excuses over the united voices of her other children), so insisted he wore a nappy until she was sure he wouldn’t wet again. His siblings loved to humiliate him in this way and made sure everyone knew what he was wearing, often pulling his shorts or jeans down to reveal the cumbersome infantile fabric. The abuse lasted until he was thirteen, and a couple of times since then, but his family never tired of this particular joke. However much he hated the way he’d been treated in the past he couldn’t really blame Angela’s solution - wet disposable-versus-wet bedding - it seemed a simple choice. Reluctantly he saw he had no real option, if he wet again he dreaded being thrown out and the smell in the nursey was getting far too obvious. Grudgingly he taped himself into the well-padded disposable. It wasn’t the first time he’d had to do it but he’d hoped it would be the last. There was no mirror to check it was fitted correctly but it did feel tight on his hips. The misty vinyl pants were ample enough to cover his nappy and as he climbed under the fleecy blankets he had a happier memory. The last time he’d worn such an item it resulted in him winning a quarter of a million. He snuggled down with a smile on his face. # To begin with he felt most uncomfortable. His mind raced as thoughts of his family who’d stolen and spent every penny he’d earned, without so much as a thought for him, both angered and left him distraught. He’d become the ‘money cow’ (that’s what his eldest brother had nicknamed him) delivering money and being milked of it. The rest of them just used his name to get things and they abused other people in doing so. Many of the things that he was accused of doing were a result of his money-grabbing, attitude-wielding scumbag of a family but he got the blame. It was them who turned the public against him and it was they who had eventually killed the golden goose. The heat from the nappy and the frustration he felt made him boil with resentment. He tossed and turned, scratched and itched, he was sure he’d never sleep with all the thick, hot fabric and the diaphanous plastic pants surrounding his groin. However, like most teenage boys he soon found a way to help relax. With a hand inside his nappy it didn’t take long to get the release needed and settle down to what he hoped would be another wonderful night’s sleep. Whereas previously he’d been able to drop off without the slightest trouble, now his mind was working on making sure he didn’t wet. He had a fitful night, constantly waking up and being relieved, when he shoved his hand down the front of the protection to find he was dry… if just a bit sticky. This happened a few times, the last being just as the light from behind the curtains indicated that dawn had almost arrived. He was part dozing and part awake but pleased that he’d managed to get through the night with no accidents. Stroking the front of his lustrous pants his mind was relaxed as he slowly drifted off back to sleep. # Angela came into Terry’s room and was pleased that there wasn’t that tell-tale smell of urine that had been so obvious on previous occasions. She could tell he was still fast asleep but, because the blankets had fallen off the bed, happy to discover that he was wearing the protection she’d left out. She also noticed that the semi-transparent pants were bulging quite considerably which indicated the disposable had served its purpose. There was something sweet and childlike as she watched the slow rise and fall of his breathing. He squirmed slightly and his plastic pants gave off that rather telling, if muted, rustling sound, the bright blue indicator strips could be seen through the translucent material and his lips were shiny with dribble as he turned to face her. She didn’t want to break the spell but as she had to go to work and needed to set a couple of other ideas of hers in motion had to wake him. # Calling his name she gently shook him awake. “Terry, Terry… Terry, wake up love there’s something I need to ask you.” Slowly his eyes focused and he was aware of Angela’s smiling face in front of him. “Sorry to wake you up, I just wondered, if you’re up for it, and things aren’t too heavy… if you could do something for me?” He lazily stretched and noticed the blanket had fallen away and he was lying there wearing only a nappy and plastic pants. He made a scramble for the blanket to try and cover up but shamefacedly realised that Angela would have noticed that his disposable was expanded and soaked. She saw the embarrassment add colour to his skin. She smiled encouragingly. “Oh Terry, don’t worry, it’s better to use the disposable than have everything else sopping wet.” Her kind words didn’t really lift the gloom that he was feeling. However, he tried to respond to her earlier question. “What is it you want me to do?” “Oh yes, I think we need to make some changes to your room…” He noticed she had said “Your room” “So, if you can, and stuff isn’t too heavy, could you take the crib down to the garage and then, all the boxes in the other bedroom room need to be cleared out. If you could store them down there as well, that would be terrific.” Absentmindedly his hand stroked the front of his bloated diaphanous plastic pants as he listened to her request. Angela noticed, or maybe read into this particular scene, that his sodden nappy and slick vinyl pants were the focus of his attention in such a distracted way. There was something very innocuous about it all, as if he didn’t really mind that much. “I’m not sure you’ll be able to manage it all but any help you can give would be most appreciated. Leave what you can’t carry and perhaps this evening we can organise its removal together?” “Sure. I’ll do what I can.” He gave her a weak smile and hoped she’d leave ‘his room’ so he could be embarrassed on his own. # Part 8 Don't grow up, it's a trap! Peter Pan After he’d heard the door bang shut and car drive off Gordon lay on the bed and ran his hand over his bloated night time protection. There was no denying that it had done its job perfectly well but there was still a slight nagging resentment at the back of his mind - Christ he was twenty years old and shouldn’t be wetting his pants at all. However, he was pleased he’d made the decision to wear the disposable because he was sure Angela wouldn’t put up with any more soaked bedding. He lay there thinking of her words “Your room” and began to relax a little… that seemed very positive. He had no idea why he was wetting at night but whilst he did… perhaps wearing a nappy to sleep in was not a bad price to pay for a roof over his head and a kind lady who was doing her best for him? As his thoughts played with the possibilities his hand distractedly played with the soft silky mound; it was curiously sexy, childish and comforting and he enjoyed the sensation. He knew it was still fairly early so rolled over, pulled the fleecy blankets back over and drifted back to sleep. His dream was almost instant and found himself in a world where he wore a nappy and everyone was smiling. There was no shock or ridicule, everyone seemed pleased to see him and admired his cute colourful protection. This was a world without his family, the press, the trolls on social media… it was a very happy place to be. He was smiling a lot and, until he came to stay with Angela, it was something he hadn’t enjoyed doing for quite some time. # As mummy led him out Joshua was alarmed to find two others in his playpen. They were both smiling boys who were dressed like him - thick nappies, plastic pants and white cotton t-shirts with huge colourful but different dinosaurs printed on the front. At first he was a bit scared of these newcomers but one of them offered him a small but cute looking “dinoroar” (as the new boy called it) and then made him smile behind his dummy when he started dancing and ‘singing’ and pulling faces pretending to be the fierce creature. Joshi wasn’t sure but then the other started crawling around growling, soon all three were holding animals and making whatever noises they thought appropriate. Although the other two boys had a much better vocabulary than Joshi, they seemed more than happy to join with the youngest member of their tight little pack in just making noise. Mummy and Daddy looked on, happy that this first meeting hadn’t been the problem they thought it might be. The babies hugged and swayed whilst having a conversation that the two adults couldn’t understand but which the little kids did. Gibberish babble soon had the juvenile trio deep in playtime, where the newness of the meeting had been immediately forgotten. The huge plastic area of his playpen crinkled and squeaked, as they squealed and screeched, in a joyful fantasy of their own making. # Gordon woke up from his pleasant dream to find his nappy expanded to capacity. This time he actually remembered the moment just before waking up when he’d voluntarily peed, enjoying the warming sensation that followed. He couldn’t understand why it had given his so much pleasure. He threw back the covers and, despite being only slightly annoyed that he’d done what he’d done, was glad that nothing else was wet. He got to his feet and was amazed just how much his disposable held because it felt so big and heavy hanging in his glossy plastic pants. He was a bit thrown by his emotional state, whereas, only yesterday wetting the bed had caused him great concern, today, with it all contained, he felt bizarrely elated. Standing contemplating this turn of events he ran his hands over the shiny plastic and realised it was they and they alone that was keeping everything in. He wiggled his hips - the weighty bulk providing a peculiar buzz. He began to dread taking them off in case his piss just flooded out everywhere. Also, and perhaps inexplicably, he didn’t want to take them off. His mind raced to find some kind of rationalisation because he knew he should be horrified; had his family’s past exploits schooled him into believing this was acceptable or was he simply relieved that he hadn’t wet the bed and such a reprieve was showing up in this odd way? He swayed again, the morning sunlight catching his straining shiny plastic pants and for a moment made them glow – it looked like his groin was encased in polished silver. # Angela was full of plans. She couldn’t wait for Graham to arrive but in the meantime, in between serving her eager mums-to-be, managed to organise the delivery of her latest project. She hoped Terry would be able to move most of the stuff from his room and the spare room because she had big plans for both areas. Two young boys dressed in junior school uniforms were her first indication that Graham had arrived. Excitedly, the two giddy kids, looking well-turned-out in the uniforms of an independent school over in the next city – grey shirt and shorts, purple and grey tie and purple blazers, greeted her with a hug. She was just as pleased to see them as they were her and handed them both a lollipop, which she kept for just such occasions. “Tank yew Miss,” they chorused. As the boys hugged Angela she could hear the crinkle of plastic pants and could see the thick outline of their protection filling out their stylish little grey corduroy shorts. As daddy entered the shop she patted their bottoms and pointed them towards the latest arrivals in the toy section. “Morning Angela,” he beamed. “Morning Graham, nice to see Andy and Jamie looking so smart… are they going somewhere special?” “They’re visiting friends a little later but were very excited when I told them they were coming to see you first… you seem to have been a great hit with them.” “Oh, I hope so; they’re both very sweet boys.” # She was desperate to know if he’d brought the Blueline30 but was content to go along with the pleasantries first. Graham was a very easy man to talk to and even some of the other lady customers turned their heads to admire this smart and dignified man with two young children in tow. They may have been a little bigger than what you’d expect of junior schoolboys but the uniform was quite prestigious because this high-class learning establishment was well known at being sticklers for wearing the correct uniform at all times. The private school’s illustrious status also indicated that the wearers of such a uniform came from a very well to do family of privilege and money. To Graham this was just another form of camouflage to keep people from asking too many questions. Both boys were actually teenagers but they behaved and had the mental and verbal capacity of toddlers, which was how their daddy liked to keep them. So he’d adapted several outfits that the boys could wear in public that wouldn’t draw too many searching questions; schoolboys, cub scouts, football and other sports strips. Although he could quite easily have dressed them ‘age appropriately’ he was of the opinion that they would have trouble with their peers and that it would only add confusion to their innocent demeanour. Wearing childish clothing may have led to ridicule from their peers, though in fact it just made these older children not want to be involved with such ‘babies’, so they kept their distance. The boys didn’t know any different, like all toddlers, they wore whatever daddy dressed them in. As long as they didn’t have to answer questions things were OK. However, they’d been instructed that if anyone spoke to them they had to run and find daddy immediately. So far this little deception had worked fairly well. # Back at the house and Gordon was still dressed in his night time protection but had already cleared the crib and other bits and pieces from his room down to the garage. He enjoyed being busy, as well, bizarrely, the feeling his ballooning nappy was giving him. Quite a few times he’d stop and run his hands over the distended plastic mass and shiver with delight at this slippery marvel. The other room was full of boxes, cases, trunks and an assortment of old clothing. Still, he’d been asked to empty the entire room so just got on with Angela’s request. He struggled with a few of the weightier items but was determined to have the job done before Angela returned from work. He was also wondering just what her plans were for both rooms. He’d taken her “Your room” as proof that he wasn’t going to be kicked out any time soon, although why he thought he’d become a permanent fixture he wasn’t sure. The thing was, in just a very short time he’d come to rely on Angela as a ‘mother’ figure. It was true that his first thought was that she maybe wanted some kind of ‘toyboy’ but her approach towards care and understanding had definitely been more maternal than carnal. He’d dismissed the sex side of things pretty rapidly because of the way she’d shot him down when he spoke of ‘payment’. However, she had said that once he was on a more even keel, and felt he could sort out his problems, he would no doubt be on his way. This was the last thing he wanted. He definitely didn’t want to go anywhere and would do all he could to stay under such a caring person’s roof because quite simply – he felt both safe and loved. Meanwhile, as he looked around the now empty second bedroom he hoped that one of the rooms would include a more permanent bed for him. He let his mind wonder as to how he’d like ‘his room’ decorated and the bedding he’d choose… He had no idea what Angela had in store for him. # Quite some time before Terry arrived in Angela’s life the ABDL side of the business was already doing very well. The mail order had grown from nothing to quite a thriving little industry in its own right. However, it was the variety of people and interested parties this lifestyle brought into Angela’s sphere she liked the most. It was different, it was a little spooky, it was loving, it was cute but occasionally it was scarily innovative. Angela had become obsessed with how Andy and Jamie acted. They weren’t ABDL people, they were regressed teenagers who were kept as toddlers for their own good, well, for their daddy’s good actually, but she didn’t see anything wrong with that. All she saw was two big kids enjoying a carefree life full of love and concern. They wanted for nothing and in Graham they had a ‘daddy’ who would move Heaven and Earth for their happiness. Of course, the greater part of her ABDL customers were nothing like these two boys. They were grown-ups with certain childish desires but who in the main operated as grown-ups the majority of the time. However, her plan was to have Terry the same way Graham had his boys. This desire on her part had come to her very quickly once she had Terry in her home. It appeared that in just a couple of days, after the initial normal response to a scared and suicidal teenager, Angela, armed with what just could be done to people like Andy and Jamie, had set herself on an innovative course of her own. Terry needed love and by the sound of things, hadn’t received much of that so far in his life. Angela wanted to change his circumstances, alter his references, obliterate the negative from his past and let him experience unreserved love from the very beginning… his beginning… his new start. # Graham passed a small package over to her and, keeping his voice low, reminded her that it was important that the dose shouldn’t be exceeded. “An overdose could prove very problematic, you might never get your nephew back, and he’d be forever lost as an incontinent, needy juvenile.” Angela nodded that she understood. An email the previous night explaining Blueline30’s effects and how it needed to be administered with care had proved most interesting reading. He also gave her a copy of his own subliminal audio file to help in his conditioning. “Play this to him as often as you can and have it playing when he goes to sleep. You might find that after the first dose he will be easier to control and will respond more quickly to your suggestions if his mind already thinks a certain way” “You mean more childish?” Graham nodded. Angela didn’t know if Graham had already sussed that the drug was for her personal project but he never questioned her motives. In many ways Graham and Angela were very much alike; they had tons of love to give but had been deprived of that outlet for one reason or another. She had a great deal of time for both him and his boys. # Gordon was sweating profusely. He’d managed to clear everything out of the spare bedroom and stack it neatly (even if he did say so himself) in the garage. He let out a sigh of contentment at a job well done. It was 2pm and he still wore his soaked nappy, he hadn’t bothered to get changed thinking that as there was no one else around he didn’t need to. However, he was beginning to itch a little and thought it time to take a shower and change into some daytime clothes. Once he’d stripped he felt strangely naked without his full nappy. That thickness and silky outer skin had captivated him all morning and now suffering its loss wriggled distractedly under the warming jets. Perhaps he was just realising how heavy it had become and relieved now he’d discarded the weight. However, his thoughts were not on what he was going to wear once out of the shower but looking forward to hopefully having to wear his night time protection again. Angela had noticed the fact that he was wet so he did a little dance of pleasure when he thought she would insist he stuck to wearing protection later on. He checked his bottom and groin and could see that it was all looking a little redder than it should. He searched in the cabinet and found some moisturising cream and some talc and spread them around the glowing parts before putting on his underwear and the pyjama bottoms. His t-shirt barely came down to the top but he felt comfortable padding around barefoot exactly as he was. He even planned on making a special meal for when Angela got home. # Things were moving at a rapid pace. In such a short space of time Angela had made decisions, come to conclusions and put her plans into place to make sure Terry would have his new start. She was determined that he would know love from the very first moment and that that love was constant and unwavering. His new start would be just that; a brand new start from the very beginning. He’d know the love only a mother can give so she needed him to be totally reliant on her for everything. A teenage boy was fairly independent and Terry had been so far, even if it had all got too much for him. She would take him back to a new childhood and away from any grown up worries. She would make sure he got his new start and, armed with the file of Blueline30, couldn’t wait to get the process underway. As Angela drove home she was feeling well equipped; she already had the nappies, disposables, vinyl pants and suitable clothing for her ‘Little Baby Boy’ organised in the boot of her car. The following day the crib she ordered would arrive so that would be a very good starting point. She also had workmen planned to construct the nursery and then build the playroom – her new baby would have plenty of space for fun. # Later, after another pretty successful meal, as they sat watching the final news story of the night something happened that made Angela look at Terry in a most disbelieving way. # Part 9 Change me not the child, his purity is divine Rev Llewelyn Farnsby (1873 – 1952) “Concern has been raised over the whereabouts of former reality TV star Gordon Littlewood after a disturbing video has been uploaded onto social media.” There then followed the newsreader giving a potted analysis of his career featuring a montage of clips of Gordon’s time on ‘There and Then - Here and Now’ and a series of unedifying headlines about his downfall in the public consciousness. “The recently released video shows twenty year-old Mr Littlewood being abused by several men...” Angela looked at Terry in complete disbelief. How come this schoolboy was being described as a twenty year-old former TV personality? She was shocked but not as shocked as Terry who looked both sad and terrified as tears streamed down his cheeks. The newsreader continued. “…whilst his anxious family revealed there has been no contact with the former television personality for several weeks...” A further montage of photographs, including one of him dressed as a baby on the show continued. “His distressed family are worried that he may have been kidnapped, although no ransom has yet been received.” There was then a short but tearful interview with his mother who, fearing the loss of her youngest son was in a highly emotional state. “The police are continuing their investigation but anyone knowing the whereabouts of Gordon Littlewood should notify the police immediately.” # A stunned silence followed. # “What the hell was all that about?” Angela was very confused. “Terry, what is going on?” “Sorry, Sorry, Sorry” Terry’s apology could hardly be heard. His head was spinning out of control as his body simply submerged itself in anguish. He felt his life collapsing in on him and the wail of misery couldn’t be contained. Although Angela was mystified by the news story she’d just witnessed, there was a young boy next to her crying his eyes out and in desperate need of some kind of solace. She pulled him into an embrace and stroked his hair. Sorrow wracked his body and, in between huge gulps for air, all he could mumble was the word “sorry”. Even though she’d just heard that the little innocent boy she comforted was a television star and twenty years old, she found it hard to equate the two. Terry was a sweet boy, whereas Gordon, according to the news reports, was a vile young man. # Angela held Terry tightly until the sobbing lessened. Eventually he couldn’t put off his defence much longer. “I’m so sorry Angela. I’ve been trying to avoid my past for ages now… erm… I’m sorry I lied to you but I, er, thought, um, if you knew who I was, erm….” The words dried up as emotion got the better of him and he hugged her and wept some more. There was no denying that for Terry, the comfort of Angela’s warm embrace, made him feel safe though he was unsure just what this news would mean. Probably that he’d be on his way very soon, but whilst he could he wanted her to know how much her kindness was valued. Angela decided to stay silent until he’d said his piece. The Blueline30 that was just inches away in her handbag would have to wait now that a rather large spanner had been thrown into the works. The word ‘Sorry’ was mumbled in between Terry’s sniffs and blubbing. It gave her time to think. # In due course Terry was able to pull himself together and explain what she’d just seen in the news report. Yes, he had been on a TV reality show. He had won a quarter of a million and his family had taken it all. His mother insisting that his eldest brother looked after his finances, whilst the rest of them would be employed in other ways. He described the relief he felt whilst in the TV house away from his family, a few weeks of total bliss. The tasks they had to perform and the humiliation designed for the titillation of viewers was as of nothing compared to his constant violation at home. Once he’d won the show his family took full advantage and, he pleaded his innocence with Angela, that most of the bad press was as a result of his rotten family using his celebrity. Angela listened without asking questions. He looked so small and scared and despite everything, she could still only see him as a frightened and suicidal little boy - the fact that he was dressed in such a kiddie way; barefoot, floral pyjama bottoms and t-shirt only added to her concern. # He explained the video that had been uploaded and had caused the concern… and yes that was his mother showing how emotional she was about the situation and with a sniff added. “She should get an Oscar for that ‘caring’ performance.” He clarified that at his most depressed he fell in with a group who had recognised him and offered to help. However, all they were interested in was having ‘fun’ with this dejected celebrity so used and abused him in ways he’d really rather not talk about. Angela nodded, seeing how much pain he was in just telling the absolute minimum, she knew how bad it must have been. “I’d been walking the streets for a couple of days since they let me go… until you found me.” He looked at her. “I’m really sorry Angela but your kindness was the first time someone actually cared about me, not knowing who I was… it was fantastic… and I worried that, er, if you found out you’d like me less.” # Terry spoke a great deal about how much, in just the few days he’d known her, he saw there were kindness, empathy and understanding in a world which he’d been keen to leave. He told her that had she not turned up when she did, he would have jumped simply because he had nothing to live for. At the end of his story Angela knew more, understood more and didn’t blame Terry for doing and saying what he had. She wanted to look out for this sad young man and all that he’d described tugged even more on her heartstrings. His life had been rotten, it needed a drastic change, she was more determined than ever to give him the new start he so craved. Finally she looked him straight in the eyes. “OK Terry, er, Gordon, er, Mr Littlewood there is only one thing I need to know.” Terry looked scared but knew this moment was coming, the moment when he’d be kicked out and he’d have to sort out his own life without the influence of his guardian angel. “Do you still want a new start?” This wasn’t the question he was expecting and she’d asked it in such a quiet enquiring manner, not an ultimatum or in anger, it was more like a secret request. He was pleased and his heart skipped a couple of beats as he thought of a future… a future he was unsure of but at least he was going to get help from Angela in achieving it. He was happy. “Yes, that’s exactly what I want.” “Good,” Angela smiled. # The Blueline30 stayed in her bag. She had planned to administer the first dose in the final drink of the night. For the moment that had to be put on temporary hold as Angela thought about a course of action. “You’ll never get a new start if the police are looking for you so… I suggest you let them know you are safe…” “No, no.” Terry became a little agitated. “They’ll insist that my family gets involved and I don’t want that to happen…” “I realise that.” Angela was being very reassuring. She’d surprised herself with how quickly she came up with what she hoped would be a solution but first wanted to sleep on it, toss the idea around before revealing it to Terry. “You don’t have to worry Ter, er, Gord, er… no, you don’t have to worry. Trust me. I’ll be with you every step of the way and I won’t let your family, or the police, take you away.” It was silly really. He was actually over the legal age and could do what he liked. However, Angela still saw him as a little boy and the grateful look on his cherubic face didn’t detract from that image. Terry looked positively relieved at her comforting words. However, I think we need to sleep on it so… time for bed.” # She’d already laid out another disposable and a pair of pale blue plastic pants on his bed and whilst there had picked up Terry’s useless phone and hoped to get it to work. He was happy to see the protection and this time there was no resentment as he taped himself in and pulled on the sleek cover. Smoothing them against his groin he gave a huge sigh; one of relief, mixed with one of pleasure. He climbed under the fleecy blankets and bounced around a little on the inflatable bed as he got comfortable. Terry was a little more relaxed now he thought Angela was on his side and determined to help in some way. She popped her head around the door. “Terry, you’ve been through a lot so… I have this relaxing music I use if I get agitated or too many thoughts are rushing around in my head. I find it helps give me a good night’s sleep.” She plugged in the player and switched it on without Terry saying much but nodded his approval. Graham Griffin’s audio file started low. “I’m sure you’ll find it as beneficial as… well… it’s designed to remove nightmares and fill your head with relaxed thoughts as the gentle sounds register in your subconscious.” She said this in a rather airy, light-hearted, dismissive way as if she didn’t quite believe its qualities herself, but she was acting. She really didn’t need to go into any explanation, Terry was already very comfortable under his blankets and his smooth, slippery protection made him wriggle with delight. “Good night Terry, sleep well.” The door closed and the soothing tones and soft waves crashing against a beach added a calm and reassuring ambience to the darkened room. He fell asleep not knowing that although his nappy was soon to become a permanent thing; his days of sleeping on an inflatable bed were numbered. Meanwhile, his head was filled with suggestions and words of encouragement: He was very lucky, his mummy loved him, it was OK to wet his nappy, he was a very good boy. These thoughts circled his mind but the music was so appealing and relaxing it all made sense. # Angela’s workmen arrived early to make a start on the alterations to the bedrooms. Terry had only just woken up when he heard the knock on the door but didn’t know what was happening. Angela installed the workers in the spare room before looking in on Terry who was up and wondering what was going on. “Sorry about the noise. The, er, builders have arrived.” She said by way of explanation. Despite him standing dressed only in his night time protection, which didn’t appear to worry him at all, or that Angela could once again see he had filled his bloated nappy; he was more concerned with what was going on. He looked anxious again. “Sorry Terry, I was hoping to keep it a secret but, you know; now there’s little point in keeping it from you. The men are here to fix the spare room into a place more suited to your needs. A proper place to sleep and some space for… er… yourself.” Terry’s eyes lit up in appreciation. “Oh mum… er… Angela, thank you, thank you… how… fantast…” He rushed up to her and hugged tightly. “That’s so nice.” He weakly whispered… again overcome with emotion. She patted his soaked nappy. She liked this intimacy and loved the feel of his soft and slippery protection. He, also enjoying the situation, held her for quite some time. There was a warmth and understanding in her that Terry craved. Ever since that first touch, when she guided him down from the bridge, he’d desired her kindness and approval. Never had he been a recipient of such natural affection and in truth thought he was both lucky but undeserving. He didn’t want anything to change that dynamic… and now he was getting his own room, the signs were for an auspicious future. Angela broke into his thoughts. “It’s a nice day. The men don’t want us under their feet, so why don’t we get to work on making sure the police are no longer searching, or people worried, about you?” # As the workforce got stuck in redecorating, laying new carpet and building a large crib and playpen Angela guided Terry out into the back field to make their little video. She’d taken Terry’s phone and recharged it hoping that was all it needed to make it work; she was pleased to see it operated just fine once the battery was full. Angela had also spent the night doing her own research on Gordon (Little) Littlewood and was amazed at just how famous he was… once was. She was appalled at some of his antics and laughed at some of the stuff reported he’d done on the reality show. Yes his small stature and baby looks had certainly helped make him a winner - shame that it hadn’t lasted. # “Do you still have access to your Facebook page?” Terry wondered why she was asking such a question. “I think so, I haven’t been on for such a long time, I was getting way too many nasty comment I stopped using it.” “I understand that but, do you still have access?” He still didn’t completely understand. “Look, what we need to do is for you to make a little movie using your phone camera. You need to tell everyone that you are sorry that you’ve caused such a worry but that you’ve been trying to avoid being in the public eye. You’ve been depressed but now you’ve met up with some people on the same wavelength as you so are happy leaving the limelight to those who want it.” He was beaming from ear to ear. “Does this make sense?” “Angela, that’s brilliant… I can say what I like. Maybe emphasise I don’t want to waste the police’s precious resources, I’m avoiding my terrible family and that I want to disappear completely and have no wish to be searched for because I’m now happy away from the press and pressures of… everything.” He gabbled. Angela was pleased that he’d cottoned on so quickly and was enthusiastic to do his piece. She was also surprised at just how good he was at coming up with such coherent thoughts and expressing them into camera (she supposed it was probably something to do with the reality show he’d been on). They found a rather inconspicuous area in the overgrown field behind Angela’s home and rehearsed his piece a couple of time before she held the camera and Terry performed his bit. # The spare room was being quickly transformed. The team worked speedily and had the room exactly like Angela requested; pale yellow walls, pale blue ceiling, and light-eliminating blinds. The construction of the crib was easy to slot together and screw firmly into place, as were the closet, draws and the changing table. The playpen took slightly longer with wooden bars circling it to keep baby safe and securely in place. The last things they installed were the thick plastic mattress in the crib and a similar, though much larger one to cover the entire play area. Both areas were now slippery, soft, comfy, baby-safe and waterproof. Soon everything was looking good and all but complete; Angela herself would add the finishing touches. The piles of nappies, the colourful plastic pants, baby clothes, bottles and containers of soothing oils and powder, the room would smell of a well looked after baby. Images of babies in nappies were planned for a border to stretch all the way around the room as were smiling cartoon animals to match some of the bedding she’d already ordered. She couldn’t wait to install the mobile she’d bought when first expecting all those years ago. The room would be a wonderful haven for a happy baby. # Gordon Littlewood was suddenly in his element. He wanted to put an end to the police activity but thought they might need a good motive to stop looking. He took a great delight in listing the reasons why he was disappearing and laid the blame squarely on his scumbag (his word) of a family. He wanted to move the spotlight from him and onto that nasty group of tormentors who’d made his life hell. He wanted to make sure that the next round of newspaper headlines was about them and not him. He let rip. Comforted by the wet nappy he’d never removed, he enjoyed having such power. His mind raced to put all his grievances into a tight little two minute segment. Angela held the camera but couldn’t help notice that throughout his tirade to camera he wiggled and constantly played with his cumbersome groin… it was if he was finding comfort, inspiration and support from his nappy. The camera didn’t show that on screen. He wasn’t sure why but seemed to have gained confidence and awareness in himself and as a result, a nappy, wet or dry, was something he wanted and liked to wear. There was a happy glow about him now. He was buoyant and alive and this transferred itself onto the little video. He still looked like a young teenager but his words had been damning for his family and his desire to disappear seemed to make a great deal of sense after what they’d put him through. # Gordon was able to upload straight from the phone to his Facebook page and with a hug and a sigh felt that was the end to that part of his life. Angela checked to make sure his little video was correctly and completely installed on his page and with a look of relief congratulated him on a job well done. At the back of her mind she hoped that if they tried to trace back to the phone it would prove authentic but useless. Angela and Terry (he was still Terry to her) celebrated with a bottle of soda each and a feeling of total liberation; they toasted to a better life and a new start. # The line that was often repeated by members of the public was his reaction to the sordid video that had been placed on social media and had caused this search in the first place. “Those men did some awful, unforgivable things to me but that was as nothing to the lifelong suffering and abuse my family inflicted.” He finished the piece to camera wishing every one well and hoping that they would find the happiness he had found. Although it sounded like he’d joined a cult, the fact that he’d done nothing illegal brought any police involvement to a close. As an offshoot, it also increased Gordon’s profile and a desperate desire by reporters to get the ‘real’ story about Gordon Littlewood. The Facebook video was soon trending and became one of the most watched YouTube clips. His family were ridiculed and ferociously castigated in the press; the very press that had been so quick to vilify Gordon now held him up as a victim. New stories about him appeared - anything to cash in on his name now it was back in the public arena. An exclusive and syndicated interview would have netted him another small fortune but he was unaware of this interest because Blueline30 was now flowing through his bloodstream. # Once they’d confirmed the video had uploaded correctly Angela took the phone, removed the SIM card and tossed it into the undergrowth. “There, now they can’t track you down or annoy you anymore.” She gave him a conspiratorial smile, which he returned with a hug. “Thank you.” They toasted their success with a cooling fizzy drink, both relieved that it was now all over. Angela looked up into the sunlit sky and then back to Terry. “Things are going to be different from now on,” she confided. “Everything is about to change… for both of us.” # The spiked soda was already working and the unexpected loss of bladder control made Terry suddenly stand still wondering what was going on. The soft hissing sound of pee adding to his already full nappy, together with the sudden vacant look in his eyes, meant that Blueline30 was working as promised. Angela was well prepared. She’d brought a bag with various items she knew would be needed. Terry stood doubting what was happening but could no longer comprehend anything. His body shivered and a tear came to his eye, something was wrong, something had… He was no longer able to control his body and, as his nappy filled, all he could do was sob. Taking a change mat from her bag Angela spread it out on the ground and helped the confused and immobile teen down onto it. She relieved him of his soaked disposable and for the first time, set about cleaning up her baby. “There, there sweetheart… I’ll have you all clean and tidy in a moment.” She looked down at a naked Terry and realised that there needed to be a few cosmetic changes to his hairy little body… but all in good time. Angela loaded a disposable with extra soak pads and then taped the thick garment into place before pulling up some bright cartoon vinyl pants. Terry didn’t appear to know what was happening, his limbs, floppy and uncoordinated, offering no resistance as she went about dressing him. A colourful childish t-shirt and loose fitting cotton shorts added to making him look even younger than before. “Who’s my Sweetums?” She cooed and kissed his forehead, whilst patting reassuringly on his bulging padded groin. He looked so cute but there was still a slight strained, unhappy look on his face with weepy eyes and a cry not very far away. She took out the final emblem of his new life and slipped a soothing pink dum-dum between his lips. Within a short space of time, Terry/Gordon disappeared replaced by a nursing little baby Joshua. A new name and a new start, Angela wondered, if anything could be better. The Beginning ##### The End
  7. Billy’s Fault Part 1 There were three things in life Billy Southall hated; his younger sister Dee-Dee, his older sister Elizabeth (Lizzie) and his mother, Sandra. His father, Eddie, was serving a ten year custodial sentence for ‘Criminal Fraud’ so eleven year-old Billy was left under the influence of the bossy and difficult female side of his family. Even the baby of the family, six year-old Dee-Dee, seemed to have a demanding attitude like the rest of them. Billy was the one constantly blamed for any mishaps; the one who had to run errands, the one who was put upon most… when not at school he hardly had a moment to play with his mates. No matter what he did, or where he went, there was always one of ‘them’ hanging around. If he wanted to go off with his friends, there was always one of his sisters who would insist (or be insisted upon by his mum) in tow. Trying to be a typical boy with his other eleven year-old mates was difficult if you had a six year-old sister dragging at your heels or an older, more demanding fourteen year-old sister insisting you play her version of a game. His schoolboy friends didn’t often come over to play as they hated all watered down games and the girly stuff they had to endure. It was difficult being a boy in the Southall family household. As far as the female side of the family were concerned it would be a lot better if Billy was a girl and then they’d be no problems at all. As far as Billy was concerned, girls ruined everything. # Billy was quite small for an eleven year-old. At four feet four inches he was the second smallest boy in class, but, as with all children, he didn’t let it worry him because everyone told him a growth spurt would be along any minute. At school he was a lively, if not particularly bright student but seemed to get on with most people his age. The days when he was taunted or set upon because of his criminal father were few and far between. His floppy brown hair was no longer pulled or his brown eyes being occasionally blackened after a rumour circulated around school that the ‘criminal underworld’ had put a bounty on anyone giving little Billy grief. His younger sister Dee-Dee was also small for her age. Her long brown hair and brown eyes made the two youngsters look remarkably alike, although both would object noisily when anyone made such an observation. Dee-Dee took after her sister in that she was always just slightly ahead of anyone else in class and enjoyed organising and regimenting her toys. She also thought all boys were ‘stoopid’ and her brother the ‘stoopidest’ of them all. They were always at each other’s throat but mum and Lizzie always took her side so, between the two, she always won any argument. Billy hated it when his mother dressed him and Dee-Dee similarly. Not that Billy wore a skirt or anything it was just that at times they seemed to wear colour-coordinated outfits that Sandra liked. She thought it made them look like a family, whereas Billy thought it made him look like a girl. He hated it and rebelled as much as he could but really he had no weapons to fight back with apart from being disagreeable and, as they were all used to that now, had no defences at all. He may have screamed and fussed but in the end, a spanking would soon get him back in line and his mother wasn’t above using this action as the first line of battle rather than the last, “It saved time” she often used to say. Elizabeth took after her father. She was tall, dark, had a very quick mind and at times could be quiet devious (it was her that set the rumour doing the rounds about the contract from the criminal underworld). She’d seen a problem, and without doing a great deal, had found a solution of sorts, the outcome being that her younger brother was rarely in fights anymore. She didn’t like the idea of him being picked on, that was her job. She was a great deal cleverer than her teachers thought but deliberately held back in lessons. She knew she was bright, yet for some reason known only to her, had no intention of showing that side of her character. At fourteen years old she was almost as tall as her mother and, as dad was no longer around, behaved as if she were her equal. # One morning, in fact the first day of the summer holidays, Billy woke up to find his pyjamas and bedding absolutely sodden. At first he thought there must have been a leak in the ceiling and then wondered if someone had spilt something but eventually it dawned on him that he’d had a rather wet accident. He didn’t know what to do. His mum would need to wash everything and he wasn’t bright enough to think that he could hide the fact and pretend nothing had happened. No, he would just tell her, apologise, look a bit dejected and hope that she wouldn’t shout or scream… or worse. Since his father was jailed four years earlier he’d had no male influence in his home life. Not that Eddie was anything but ‘illusive’. He didn’t seem to notice how much his son hated being dominated at home. How much he felt inferior to his sisters or how little support he received from dad. Eddie was just too easy going for his own good and that lethargy was what led to his eventual capture by the authorities. When he had been home he always took the ‘girls’ side in any argument, often with a small humorous aside to Billy that it was “…easier in the long run to simply agree”. That aside also carried with it a sort of “Get used to it” which Billy found infuriating but true. Even the relations when they came to visit were mostly female (from his mother’s side) and Billy would end up besieged in his room by girly cousins and kissy aunts. Thankfully, he had mates at school so at least he had male company there, though they disappeared once the school day ended. Unfortunately, Billy had chosen the wrong day to start wetting the bed as his mother was already fraught with what she was going to do with her kids now the school year had finished. Work had become intense and long hours were needed almost all the time. Because of this she was working all hours god sent to keep food on the table and a roof over their heads. She had to come up with an answer as soon as possible. # Her solution was simply to put Lizzie in charge. She was already ruling the roost so it wasn’t a huge jump to let her take total responsibility for her younger siblings. Of course, Elizabeth being Elizabeth extricated an increase in her allowance for taking on such responsibility. There wasn’t a great deal of spare money about the house so everything was put on the ‘necessary’ and ‘within budget’ list should anything other than food be needed. When Eddie had been around money seemed to be fairly plentiful. He earned a reasonable amount at his place of work so between them, the two adults were managing okay. However, now he was inside the breadwinner was Sandra and, as her job was becoming more and more demanding, so the kids were suffering as a result. No spare cash for treats or anything special and on top of that, they were seeing less and less of her as she had to work long hours to make ends meet. Sandra had hated that the handsome man she loved had a criminal side and, as justice was served, he’d been locked away after a long court case. However, she decided the rest of the family would not benefit from, or suffer as a result, of his activities. His criminality had been discovered just before the final part of his ingenious plan to de-fraud the large conglomerate he worked for was instigated. It would have netted a few million which stupidly he thought was worth the risk. Unfortunately, now he wasn’t able to look after his wife and children properly, his plan looked very flimsy indeed and although it was him behind bars, it was they who, from lack of cash and stability, were suffering. With Eddie was in jail Sandra wanted her children to respect the law and not be influenced by their father’s deeds. The problem she had was that her kids were too young to really understand the relevance of him getting such a long jail sentence. How it made finances a problem and, just to keep their heads above water, how much harder she would have to work. However, the fact that she even had to think this way made her an angry, short-tempered and severe woman. She loved her kids but at times could have drowned the whole lot of them. Thankfully, they were getting to an age where they could look after themselves, and, with the hassles of her job, she was thankful that Elizabeth could take some of the strain. Sandra saw this constant conflict between her son and daughters and often wished she’d had three girls and then, she assumed, life would be so much easier. In her head she remembered how well she and her three sisters all got on together as they grew up. She happily reminisced about the support sisters gave each other and how disagreements were few and far between. Although not completely true that’s how she remembered her youth and wished the same for her kids. The constant bickering, screaming, arguments, moodiness and plain aggravation was too much when she had other things to worry about. With her patience at an all-time low and stress at an all-time high she needed calm and serenity at home, which she knew wasn’t going to happen. She saw Billy, thanks to the regular negative comments from her daughters, as a disruptive and annoying influence, the cause of all disorder, so sided with them over everything. Billy was not happy about his elder sister being given such influence because he knew it meant only one thing, total control over everything he wanted to do. He knew she loved nothing better than to impose rules and issue restrictions… she was very power-hungry for someone so young. He also knew that she was larger and stronger than he was so he’d have no alternative but to comply otherwise she’d just hurt him. He’d tried to stand up to her before and had the bruises for almost a week afterwards to prove it. She was tough and uncompromising, in other words, a bully. The problem was that now he’d wet the bed – and he didn’t know why or how - what would happen next? # His mother was angry at his wet accident. “Typical of a lazy, thoughtless boy,” was how she saw it. Nonetheless she decided it was probably a one off but made it clear to the scared lad that if it happened again, more drastic action would be taken. She didn’t spell out exactly what that meant but his older sister kept making baby noises and implying that’s how he’d end up. Billy’s stress level accelerated as he worried about such consequences. He had no idea why he’d wet in the first place, it was something he hadn’t done since he was four. However, now that he’d had this nocturnal accident it was all he could think about. This was no way to start the school break and yet, somehow he knew it would be the only thing that mattered. It would be the main conversation. He knew his sisters wouldn’t let him forget it and wasn’t sure how his mother would deal with it either. With Elizabeth and Dee-Dee taunting and calling him a baby (and when he wasn’t looking, pulling at the waistband of his pants to check he was still dry), he really wished he’d not had such a disastrous accident. His mother briefly speculated if he was ‘stressed’ about something at school but other than that thought, appeared not to be all that interested. It was just one of those silly and inconvenient ‘accidents’ that kids had. Mind you, she’d also accused him of being too lazy to get up and go to the bathroom now that the holidays had started but again, this was just a dismissive rant at her ‘thoughtless’ son. Billy tried to think why it might have happened but came up with nothing. There were no problems at school, in fact, now they were on summer break he was looking forward to getting out and spending more time with his friends away from his annoying family. He hoped that as he was getting a little older he’d be given more freedom to explore and be with his friends. He didn’t think that his excitement at such a prospect would have caused any kind of reaction. He was at a loss because the only thing he knew for sure was he’d woken up to a flooded, urine soaked bed. He had another secret which was; that morning once he’d washed and dressed he’d accidentally peed himself again, whilst thinking about why he’d peed at night. Without warning a sudden hot spurt of urine dampened his clean white underpants before he had chance to clamp down on his bladder and finish the job at the toilet. He was thankful that the surprise and embarrassment had been his alone and there were no witnesses. He quickly changed and rinsed out his stained briefs hoping no one would be ever the wiser. He was eleven years old and about to go up to big school so knew he shouldn’t be having such accidents. But that was twice now and he was worried, although he didn’t know what exactly it was he should be worried about. The pee that had just soaked his briefs had sent an uncomfortable tremor through his body just moments before it happened but he didn’t equate the two things to the outcome. Because he saw it as his own fault he fretted that his friends would find out and was convinced that, at the earliest opportunity, one of his sisters would reveal such a night time misfortune to all his mates. Thankfully there was no school for any gossip to run rampant but he was still anxious. He’d have been even more worried if he knew his little accident had given his big sister an idea on how to keep her siblings under control during the school break. # Had he called his friends he might have been able to see where the root of his problem lay. Two days earlier, he and a few of his mates had taken full advantage of a wonderful hot summer’s afternoon. On their way home from school and making plans for things to do during the long break they had taken a slight detour and ended up down by the canal. Feeling hot and sticky from their walk they dared each other to jump in because they’d seen other kids splashing about on the bank further along the towpath. Ever since Billy was little his mother had continually emphasised that although it looks a peaceful stretch of water, he should never go into the canal as it was a dangerous place for a young boy to play. She knew at times it looked inviting but made him promise he’d never do what she’d seen other children do, and go for a swim in it. She told him it was full of hazards like submerged supermarket trolleys that had been thrown in and weeds that could easily entangle a person. It was full of unseen and unspecified dangers. She warned him that it was a very unhealthy place to even dangle his feet but, in the excitement of a hot afternoon and the fast approaching end of school, that was all forgotten. He’d been warned yet chose that moment to play leader and show his friends he wasn’t afraid of a bit of water. He pulled off his school clothes, apart from his underpants, and launched himself into the almost still water. His friends, Dave, Aaron and Mitch, not to be outdone, joined him and soon the group of four eleven year-old boys were splashing about and gratefully cooling off from the afternoon’s heat. They were caught up in the euphoria of adolescent dare-devilment, bravado and simply disobeying parents so, since no one was around to witness the event, they assumed there’d be no consequence. Of course he never mentioned this illicit swim to his mother because he was able to dry himself before returning home. However, had he remembered the dire warnings his mother had given him in the past, he might have known that the canal had other invisible jeopardies. If he’d made a call to any of those mates he’d swum with he would have found that two, Dave and Mitch had bad diarrhoea and Aaron, like Billy, had contracted a bladder infection. However, Billy hadn’t connected as relevant the trip to the canal with the bedwetting. In fact, he was keeping completely quiet about that little adventure. He knew he’d be in very serious trouble if he admitted to his mum he’d been in the canal and was desperate not to be grounded for the summer. Over the years the other three boys had also received similar dire warnings about the hazards of swimming in the canal so they had also decided to keep quiet about what they’d been up to. That meant their parents, like Billy’s mother, were equally baffled when their offspring suddenly started messing the pants (or beds) in one way or another. Meanwhile, unknown to Billy was that loads of little nasty microbes were using his bladder as their own personal playground and, without treatment, were going to make life hell for their host… and a wet bed was only the start. # Elizabeth, having been given the responsibility to keep her brother and sister in check for the entire break, needed something during that period to amuse her. Her brother’s accident and subsequent shame had got her mind ticking and, after some thoughts being championed before being dropped, settled on a plan she decided would be both fun… and a challenge. That night, whilst Dee-Dee and Billy slept, Lizzie took a small empty squeezy bottle and attached a length of plastic tubing to it. She filled it with a mixture of her own urine and warm water and then, as they slept, surreptitiously doused it over both their groins. She was very careful and took the entire process slowly making sure that they were both well soaked by the time she’d finished. In the morning mother was none too happy about seeing her two youngest children returning to their childhood problems. On cue mother hit the roof, her mystified and crying wet children only adding to her annoyance. She had enough to cope with without all this ‘silliness’ and extra work. Even Dee-Dee came in for a stern telling off and the threat of a severe spanking for them both if it continued. Mum was just too pre-occupied to delve any deeper and hoped this was just a passing phase. Sandra was used to difficult situations; since she’d met him her husband Eddie had dropped her in ‘it’ on many occasions. His free-wheeling way of dealing with life and the law, meant that she’d had to learn quickly to deal with his disastrous shortcomings. Fortunately, despite Eddie’s transgressions, she hadn’t turned her hand to criminal activity and was very well thought of in her high-pressure (if lowly paid) job as head of marketing for a local manufacturer. However, her husband’s history was always at the forefront of her mind when she dealt with colleagues and customers. She knew she had not only to be above suspicion; she had to be better than anyone else and so had grown a very tough hide, which made her imperious in negotiations. She was very good at her job so demand on her work time was always there and, as she had to keep three kids in food, clothes and a roof over their heads, she worked almost nonstop. Dee-Dee had been as shocked as her brother when she woke up to her wet nighty and bedding. She screamed it was Billy’s fault for ‘infecting’ her but even so was quite humiliated by the incident. She hadn’t wet the bed since being a toddler and was convinced it had something to do with her ‘stoopid’ brother. She’d just had her first year at school and was regarded as one of the brightest kids of the year; she didn’t now want to be thought of as a ‘stoopid’ baby bedwetter. However, her own trauma seemed as nothing compared to the hysterics Billy was going through on his personal discovery. He couldn’t explain it, had no recollection or reason for doing it and dreaded what would happen as a result. He cried and begged his mother not to punish him but to no avail. She was on the warpath over her ‘thoughtless’ kids seemingly doing everything they could to make her life that much more complicated. She didn’t want excuses, she simply saw it as yet another thing to cope with and one she shouldn’t have to. After all, her kids were old enough not to piss themselves. She wasn’t thinking about the whys or wherefores of her children’s wet trauma, she was finding it difficult in keeping her temper under control. In the past, when Billy had been naughty or just plain annoying, she’d deliver a quick couple of spanks and that would be it – a hot bottom but instant. However, at that moment, she had breakfast to arrange and herself off to work so didn’t have time. Nevertheless, running late as she was and about to storm out the door she left the threat that Elizabeth was in charge, so, their bedding had better be washed and everything back to normal when she returned home. The implied menace was that there would be worse to come if things hadn’t been achieved. At least she hadn’t paddled them for their ‘accidents’ but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t later on. Both were petrified about being punished for something they couldn’t control and worried that their mother was so overwrought, she might just spank them even harder. “It’s all your fault, you big baby.” Dee-Dee sulkily complained to her brother. Billy had soaked the bed for a second time, together with accidentally wetting his briefs it was now a problem but didn’t know why. This was worrying but even more worrying he knew that Lizzie would use it against him. She’d made it clear what she thought of her ‘pissy little brother’ and feared the worst. He was very surprised that Dee-Dee also had an accident. To him at least, this was highly suspicious, although, for the moment at least, she was in the same sorry boat as him so wasn’t as unpleasant or uppity. # Meanwhile, as the two youngest sat guiltily eating breakfast Elizabeth privately suggested to her fraught mother that because they’d both wet like babies, perhaps that was how they should be treated. Although Sandra wasn’t sure if that was the best course of action, she realised action needed to be taken. As her eldest pointed out, because she’d been put in charge, she didn’t want to be cleaning up their wet bedding every morning. She had a point, so Sandra agreed that they should wear protection at night and see how things went. She was a bit troubled as to why both her youngest should suddenly start wetting again but really couldn’t give it enough thought as she was just too busy with work. Since her husband had been sent to jail four years earlier she had come to rely on her eldest daughter to help out and be the one to keep the other two in line. As it turned out, it wasn’t a job she needed to be given because from a very early age Elizabeth had adopted the role for herself. Elizabeth and Dee-Dee, despite the age difference seemed to get on, it was just their brother who was always moaning and arguing about something and nothing. Sandra just wished her kids would get along. There was absolutely no doubt that she would be at her wit’s end had it not been for Lizzie stepping up and taking on such responsibility. So, as discussed, come night time, and no doubt huge protests, it was decided that for the time being at least, they would both wear protection to sleep in. To back this up, and prevent any further protests, there would be another threat from mother hanging in the air; if they acted up they would be sent to bed at 6pm with a well-tanned bottom. This would make objecting very difficult because mum wasn’t to be messed with. Once she’d made up her mind it would take an act of God to change it and the kids knew that from past experience. Lizzie was pleased with these provisos and, as she always did told her mother not to worry as she would have it all sorted before bedtime. # Sandra had stowed all their old baby things in the attic so Lizzie took great delight in bringing the stuff down to inspect for possible reuse. Very little of it would fit but she saw it more as inspiration than anything else. She liked the tiny little outfits but knew none of them would fit. However, the thick cotton nappy squares would be immediately pressed into service and the cute plastic pants might be of some use. In her head Lizzie saw just how her younger siblings should, and would, be treated during this ‘anxious’ time for them. With just a little ‘encouragement’ from her, and the blind approval of mum, she saw them as puppies being trained. She saw Dee-Dee as easy to influence but also wanted both to know that everything from getting up and going to bed would be down to her… and that included how they were dressed. She’d already made her worries known to her mother about the possibilities of either Billy or Dee-Dee having daytime accidents but hoped they would be able to go potty as normal. Lizzie chose her words carefully using babyish phrases to subliminally imply that her siblings were really just toddlers having a hard time and that they needed to be helped as much as possible. She expressed her distaste at having to change nappies, whilst secretly making sure that was just what was going to happen. She’d even gone to the extreme of shanghaiing a couple of old thick towels into making suitable larger nappies for Billy, should he not fit into the ones she’d already requisitioned from the attic. Her siblings were going to be her little babies for the foreseeable future and, she convinced herself, it would make the long boring holidays fun and bearable… well… for her at least. Whilst she acted innocent as to the cause of this sudden wetting phenomenon, Lizzie impressed on her mother the fact that between them they needed to maintain a unified front to make sure, whilst they had their ‘problem’, night time protection was a must. Perhaps, she suggested hopefully, a couple of nights in nappies might embarrass them into getting to the toilet on time. However, if it really was the start of some unknown wetting dilemma, well at least they were already protected for the occasion. She insisted that any relenting would be seen as a weakness sending the wrong message to the messy duo. She pretended to be understanding of her sibling’s difficulty, after all, she just wanted them to be spared the worry of lying in a soaked bed at night. “The little brats might object but it is for their own good.” For a fourteen year-old she put up a convincing and ‘caring’ argument and, as her mother was far too busy to get involved, received the nod of approval. A plan was formulating in Elizabeth’s mind as she realised she could exert more control over them both if they wore what she planned all the time, and, as mother would be out working and have very little time to supervise, she decided that’s just what she’d do. However, first she had to get them both in nappies, and not only at night. # Mother supervised the night time and made sure, despite weepy and angry protests, that both her youngest were well protected. Sandra got to nappy Billy, whilst Elizabeth saw to Dee-Dee. One of the pairs of plastic pants still fit little Dee-Dee so she was extra enveloped but Billy’s nappy looked too tight and ill-fitting. It was obvious that the plastic pants were far too small even for his small frame so his mother didn’t even try to use them. He complained and had a little tantrum but his mother pointed out, with very little compassion, that as he’d pissed the bed twice she had no option. All through the process he cried and wailed and tried to be as uncooperative as possible, it didn’t help his case. In the end the nappy she was trying to get him to wear was way too small so had to resort to the towel that Lizzie had adapted earlier. This was a great deal thicker and forced his legs well apart once she’d pinned him in. Although Sandra was annoyed at having to go to these extremes, she couldn’t help but smile at the thick nappy that made her son look younger and more juvenile than normal. The bulky, towelling material was huge and sagged making him look like a destitute little toddler. A sudden memory filled her head as she recollected quite a few years ago putting him in nappies, which Lizzie had worn when she was little but were too large. She’d been a much larger toddler than Billy at that age so her hand-me-down nappies were way too big and like now, engulfed him in too much fabric. She would have laughed out loud if Billy wasn’t squirming in humiliation. However, there was recognition of happier times and a delighted thrill ran through her body recalling when he was that small, dependant little boy. This memory continued as she tucked the soft cotton material under to make the legs a little less baggy and more leak-proof. For the briefest of moments she saw him back as he was at two years old. Strangely, after the infuriating day she’d had, this reminiscence improved her spirit no end and smiled tenderly at her nappy-clad little boy. Billy wasn’t happy; his tears had dried up and his mother had finished with her struggle but to him it all felt heavy and uncomfortable. He knew it was his fault having wet but he hated the fact that his mum and sister were making him wear this bulky mass of material between his legs. He really had no option. He had woken up soaked twice and to prevent further damage to bed and bedding he saw the reasoning behind the nappy, even if he didn’t like it. The scratchy old towel wasn’t what he’d hoped for, but neither was a puddle of pee, so he just had to put up with it. However, what made him stop his moaning was the threat that if he didn’t cease his whining, bedtime would be at 6pm for the rest of the school holiday. That shut him up and once his PJs were pulled up it just looked a little unwieldy but otherwise his shame was hidden. Both kids had another thing to be thankful for because their mother had so many other problems on her mind, they’d escaped without punishment. So, albeit reluctantly, and not wishing to stir up her wrath, they went quietly to bed before she remembered her other threat. Dee-Dee said she felt hot and uncomfortable but her mother kissed her goodnight and whispered she’d better not take it off until morning, and then only if she or Lizzie were there to supervise. Hearing the implied warning to his sister, Billy fidgeted but said nothing as she also kissed him goodnight. It took a while but eventually both were sound asleep, which was when their sister once more did her rounds. # Dee-Dee, with her extra plastic protection was going to be more difficult but didn’t wake up as Lizzie, armed with a torch and her ‘baby wetting’ bottle, pulled back the covers and inserted the tube down the front of her plastic pants. A nice long squeeze and half the bottle was soon being soaked up by the thick material. Her brother was a lot easier to dowse. Billy had wriggled around so much he had no bedding over him at all and even his PJs had slipped down revealing the top of his nappy. A second long squeeze and both the front and back of Billy’s defence was sodden and, because he wasn’t wearing plastic pants leaked onto his sheets. In the morning Lizzie made sure it was mother who was first on the scene to see for herself just how wet they were. Both kids were crying at what they’d discovered, partly out of being confused and secondly in the hope to gain some sympathy and deter their mother from carrying out her threat to paddle them if it happened again. Billy looked the most dejected. Has nappy sagged heavily between his legs and his PJs were doing nothing to hide that fact. At least the plastic protection Dee-Dee wore had done its job and could be seen to be a positive item as her bed was completely dry. It didn’t take much effort to draw the conclusion that they were obviously something needed with the current damp state of affairs. Exasperated at her wet kids, the previous night’s thoughtful and understanding mum was replaced by the irritated and dissatisfied mum. She asked Elizabeth to see to them because, once again, she was in a rush and had no time to attend to what needed to be done. She also demanded that Lizzie made sure after they were washed and well dried, they received a coating of anti-rash cream (she still had some left from when Dee-Dee had needed it as a tot), and that plenty of baby powder was applied before being allowed to put on underwear. “Can’t risk them getting a rash… so… make sure they’re well protected.” She said as she careered around gathering her things. With a pretend look of horror at the very idea Lizzie added in mock disgust that she might just keep them in ‘protection’ all day as it would be so much easier. And to add emphasis to her argument, declared she was damned if she was going to be washing their pissed in clothes every few hours. Sandra looked at her eldest as if to say “Now don’t go making any extra problems” but knew she relied on her to carry out what was necessary. Despite being the parent she wasn’t in a position to argue so rather gratefully left her eldest to do whatever she saw fit. Seeing the sorry and very damp state her brother was in Lizzie suggested that they should get some vinyl pants for him as well as other extra items that might come in handy. Sandra noted that her son’s mattress might be getting too many soakings for it to be healthy and agreed that would be an expense too far. She handed over her credit card and told Lizzie to get what she thought would be best. She trusted her not to break the bank but realised that the kids needed something a little more substantial than the pathetic old and well-used cotton nappies they were wearing. Billy and Dee-Dee didn’t hear this final instruction but had been left in their saturated protection whilst the two women discussed things. Chatting to her stressed mother as she dashed from room to room finally collecting her bag, coat and keys before departure Lizzie was able to gain more concessions from her, quite possibly concessions Sandra didn’t really know she was giving. Mother’s final words as she blew a kiss and exited towards her car were: “Do as Lizzie says, I don’t want to hear of any bad behaviour when I get home this evening. Bye sweethearts and be good for your sister.” With that she was on her way to work and the two dishevelled kids sat at the kitchen table still in their wet nightwear, awkwardly eating a bowl of cereal. Meanwhile, Elizabeth was searching around for more items she thought might come in useful. The bathroom cabinet already contained talcum powder, wipes and other odds and sods, which the fourteen year-old was keen to press into service. She giggled to herself in delight at the plans envisaged for her brother and sister. She hadn’t really thought about why she was doing this, just that she could. She liked the idea of being in control and better still, she loved the prospect of embarrassing them... especially her noisy, and now, pissy little brother. As far as she was concerned, thanks to his wet inspiration, this was going to be the best summer holiday of them all. # Part 2 One thing Liz wasn’t aware - Billy’s sodden nappy was not only down to her sabotage. He had, quite unknowingly, wet himself during the night and, had she checked him first before doing her ‘squeezy’ thing, would have noticed he was more than a little damp already. With the amount of liquid his make-do nappy then had to soak up it was no surprise it leaked all over the place. He’d woken up to a wet bed, a saturated towel-cum-nappy and an itchy crotch. He was angry with himself because he just couldn’t understand why he was doing such a thing. He was uncomfortable, irritable and embarrassed and reached down to feel the dirty, saggy towel between his legs with a great deal of disgust. He blamed his mum, Lizzie and somehow even Dee-Dee for his current predicament and hated the lot of them for making him dress so, so, so… The problem was he irritated with himself because he’d wet yet again and couldn’t deny what happened, therefore, couldn’t really complain about the consequences of his ‘actions’. He knew it wasn’t his fault because he didn’t know he was doing it. Other than that could offer no explanation or come up with a better course of measures than a nappy to prevent worse after-effects… a wet bed was very unpleasant. His anger was more out of frustration than directed at anyone in particular, except, well, it was easier to blame everyone other than himself. Despite the fact that his make-do nappy had, to some degree, prevented a worse soaked bed he wanted rid of the soggy mass as soon as possible. However, his mother insisted she didn’t have time and he should get down to breakfast where he’d be sorted out after they’d all eaten. She watched him get up and sigh at the obviously sopping nappy that hung down between his legs. The bedding was a mess, all damp and creased, whilst an air of urine was beginning to make the room smell less than pleasant. He fought to pull up his jammy bottoms which helped a little but didn’t hide the evidence of a very wet boy. Under his mother’s watchful eye, he slowly made his way down to the kitchen feeling every soggy step, the rough fabric irritating his thighs with even the slightest movement. His mother, gathering up the dirty bedding, was more than a little annoyed that he’d wet again and knew something had better be done soon. She wasn’t happy with her son and he wasn’t happy about his nappy… there was bitterness and resentment building on both sides. His favourite morning cereal wasn’t improving the difficult situation he was now in and wished he was allowed to change himself but mum insisted it had to be supervised by Lizzie, and that really irked him. He was very upset about everything and banged and crashed his bowl, spoon and cup around as he sulkily ate breakfast. The mess and noise he created just added to Lizzie’s firm belief that he should be wearing a nappy permanently… so that’s how he should be treated. This attitude didn’t help the situation; he looked like a petulant little baby sat in a soggy nappy. # Once breakfast was finished Lizzie took Dee-Dee off to be changed. She told a protesting Billy to wait his turn and stop bellyaching, she’d soon be back. He had no option but to do as he was told and sat fidgeting in his scratchy towel, while he desperately needed a pee. Although there were some protests from the baby of the family, Liz stripped Dee-Dee out of her wet stuff, cleaned her up, spread the anti-rash lotion and had her powdered very quickly. The youngest had been surprised at waking up wet and although she didn’t like all the fuss, at least the protection had worked. However, much to Dee-Dee’s disgust and resentment, her pleas for normal knickers were ignored as Lizzie re-pinned her into a clean nappy and fed those old, but useful, plastic pants up to enclose the thick material. Her older sister took a firm hand and used guilt to make her comply with what she was doing. “Look, you’ve wet and I have no intention of cleaning you up again should you have another accident. So, this will act as a reminder and a safeguard… just in case…” She left the thought hanging in the air. Dee-Dee’s protests were in vain as Liz pointed out that she had a choice, either she put up with it under her dress, or walk around wearing only a nappy for the rest of the day. And, as Lizzie planned on going into town shopping, she’d have to toddle around as she was and everyone would see her protection. It was her choice. Dee-Dee’s mood changed a little when Liz also pointed out that her brother would be given the same choice so she wouldn’t be the only one wearing such an item. Six year old she may have been but every bit as bright as her older sister so knew that it would come down to the lesser of two evils. Reluctantly, she agreed with everything her big sister suggested. The girls then spent what seemed to Billy waiting downstairs, an eternity choosing just what else to wear. Dee-Dee was looking for something to cover the entire thing but Lizzie, after letting her search around for some time, eventually pulled a short summer skirt from her wardrobe. She knew exactly how she wanted her ‘baby’ sister to look… and the nappy and plastic pants would be taking centre stage. “You’ll look lovely in this.” Lizzie was enthusiastic about what she’d found. “But, but, it won’t cover anything… I … I…ummm.” She must have known her protest would be in vain as Lizzie was already pulling the skirt up and over her protection. Part of the shiny plastic bulk could just be seen hanging below the hemline, which was precisely how Lizzie had planned it… cute and very juvenile. Nevertheless, and this was what made it reasonably okay for Dee-Dee to wear what had been designated, Lizzie convinced her that when she stood up it was barely visible. The thick rough material also gave the youngster a strange feeling between her legs, whilst the rubbing of the plastic on her thighs sort of tickled a bit. It was more unwieldy than her knickers but not totally unpleasant and after a few minutes getting used to her new underwear, Dee-Dee forgot all about it. Lizzie liked the look and wished she could get Billy into something similar. That sneaky peek of plastic pant was very babyish and her mind lit up with possibilities of them both sucking on baby’s bottles and dummies. To her, plastic pants and nappies always visible would keep them both in check and at the same time look completely adorable. With her two young siblings already looking alike, to her at least it would be wonderful to have them dressed alike. She had a vision of them together playing in their nappies; Billy slightly taller of the two but still enthralled with a childish game his smaller but more confident sister had devised. Setting off the scene to perfection would be the rustle of their glossy plastic pants adding a shiny, cheerful but babyish note to their pleasure. # Meanwhile, in the kitchen, in his desperation to pee, Billy came up with the obvious solution, he’d simply soak his towel that bit more and no one would be any the wiser. Even though his jammy bottoms were already soaked he slipped them off and stood wearing just his flooded protection. The rough material was looking decidedly discoloured and beginning to smell but in Billy’s mind he was just using it as a mop-up cloth, which was what it had been used for in the past. Unfortunately for him, he took the wrong moment to fulfil his biological need so, as he filled his waterlogged nappy to saturation point, the fabric leaked out onto the tiled floor. There was a slight stinging as he peed but, in truth, it was remarkable just how easy it was to go into his towel and feel such relief. Standing in the doorway to observe the incident were his sisters who he had not heard returning to the kitchen. Such an opportune moment was quickly seized on by Lizzie who loudly proclaimed it was a deliberate act of wetting. Conspiring with her witness Dee-Dee, they berated their brother for being nothing more than “a thoughtless little boy”, a “nappy wetter” and when he teared up, nothing but a “big cry baby”. A red flush covered his body but the pee just kept flowing and dribbling down his leg to pool on the tiles. He couldn’t stop. Even with his sister’s watching and their mocking, his burning bladder just kept the stream coming as his body slumped in humiliation and tears fell. In his shame and anger he swore and cursed them but it didn’t help… he was guilty of this terrible act. Perhaps they were right; maybe he was nothing more than a pissy little baby who had no control. When he finished the look on Lizzie’s face told him he was in deep trouble. He had no defence, they’d witnessed what he’d done and he knew he was for the high jump. Lizzie grabbed his hand and dragged him upstairs and into the bathroom. Billy stumbled and quickly grabbed the heavy wet nappy as it slipped down his thighs. To be seen naked was the worst so pulled up the thick and sopping item to preserve his modesty. He didn’t know it but modesty was soon to be a thing of the past. Angrily (although really pleased at the wonderful turn of events) she pulled off his soaked make-do nappy and told him emphatically that from now on, as he acted like a little baby, deliberately peeing his pants, then that’s how she intended treating him. A sorrowful “Nooo” and an “It’s not my fault” didn’t help as he tried desperately to stop Lizzie seeing him naked. “You purposely kept me fucking waiting… you wanted me to fucking wet my…” A stream of expletives and angry accusation followed which Lizzie stood and took. She didn’t mind, she’d use it against him later if need be. She knew their mother hated swearing and would take the paddle to his bare bottom if/when she found out. He carried on swearing at his older sister, blaming her for his soggy hanging shame. However, he’d been warned many times by his mother that he should not swear, and certainly never in the house. Lizzie just batted his flailing hands away and let him carry on being his usual self-obsessed centre of attention but taking no notice of his protests. This was typical him… you try to help but he just ends up being difficult. Lizzie let him struggle for a while, part of her wishing he was a girl and then they wouldn’t be having all these problems that raucous boys seemed to carry around with them. She thought all boys Billy’s age were the same annoying little sods. However, now she had him in a nappy, and to a certain extent Dee-Dee as well, she was quite content… her plan was moving on nicely. # Her heart had beat faster when she’d come up with this novel idea, it had gone into overdrive when she’d collected the stuff from the attic. The simple act of handling the old fabric nappy squares and plastic pants had sent more than a shiver through her core. The urge to have them both dressed as babies became more and more powerful the more she caressed those small soft items of childhood. She was only fourteen but there was something that just clicked as she held up one of Dee-Dee’s sweet little baby onesies. Her body flushed with excitement as her mind raced at the thought of what she planned to do with her siblings. As she’d sorted through the old baby clothes, toys and other stuff all she could imagine was them both having to surrender to her instructions. She was growing up fast and all manner of hormones and inspiration were careering through her system. She would be ‘mummy’ and have a couple of real babies to play with, to dress, feed and clean. However, to begin with she hadn’t thought about the work her plan would involve; the constant changing and washing. For her to see them both contained in such a juvenile way, and the way such padding reduced the wearer immediately to a toddling tot, was as far as her vision stretched. With Billy now struggling in her hands as she changed his soaked nappy she grinned knowing that her plan was already working so well. The wet towel was not very nice to have to wear, and this is what made it so much fun, her brother hated it. When a knowing and cunning look appeared on Lizzie’s face he knew he’d overstepped the mark. A sudden gulp of resentment and fear stuck in his throat and he lost the ability to explain or defend himself. Billy was so embarrassed and guilty about what he’d just done, and had been witnessed by both his sisters; all he could do was blub as Lizzie furiously set about getting him cleaned up. She could have left him in his present state but was playing the long game so decided that for the moment, a little ‘understanding’ might be more appreciated. He cried but knew he’d been caught red-handed (or wet-nappied), and had been foul-mouthed, so couldn’t pretend his innocence. # Lizzie was thorough in her ministrations but kept tut-tutting and shaking her head as if she found the situation quite unbelievable. Billy tried to pretend it wasn’t happening by squeezing his eyes tight shut whilst she wiped his genitals. Alas for Billy, his culpability made him less rebellious than he would normally have been so the process became a lot less fraught. She noticed that his groin was very red and explained that all the wetting had given him a nappy rash, which set him off wailing all over again. “Mum said this might happen and I’d have to cover the area with this.” She held up the white ointment that had already been applied to Dee-Dee but, knowing Billy’s embarrassment was only just beginning, took even greater delight in the application process. To have his sister, who was only three years older than him, rubbing in the cream with such vigour was more than a little disconcerting but couldn’t object because he felt so guilty. There was no denying that he’d been itching since he’d woken up and wondered why it felt so uncomfortable sitting at breakfast. Now he knew, he had to suffer the ignominy as she smeared on the antiseptic balm like he was a baby. However, he hadn’t realised just how ‘personal’ that treatment would be when she heavily coated it around his genitals and then made him turn over so she could cover his tender red bottom. His rash actually needed the attention Lizzie was giving it but she was really pleased at the way he wriggled awkwardly as her fingers massaged the greasy stuff into his boy parts. Billy wanted to be indignant about the procedure. He wanted to tell her again to ‘FUCK OFF’ and use a stream of hurtful invective at her but at that moment thought it better to remain tight-lipped. He didn’t even know there was such a cream in the house, or what the rash was, so would never have thought to use it. He hated being treated like a toddler but really would have no idea how to have gone about it on his own. Reluctantly, he had to concede that on this point, his sister knew best. Whilst in that position, and showering his upturned inflamed bum cheeks with powder, she mentioned that if it was up to her his bottom would be red from a damn good paddling (mum had delivered them in the past). As far as Lizzie was concerned… he was a very naughty, foul-mouthed and inconsiderate little boy, purposely wetting himself for some dubious ‘attention seeking’ reason. Lizzie knew that by intentionally making Billy believe he was solely culpable for what was happening, he was in no position to object to her plans and, a little fear made him far more acquiescent. She said she was surprised that mum hadn’t spanked her two naughty ‘babies’ for giving her even more to worry about and that both he and Dee-Dee should think about their over-worked mother more. She laid it on thick how she thought they were doing it on purpose just to annoy mum and give her even more stress. She laid the blame squarely at her thoughtless brother for being the main culprit, accusing him of actually enjoying wetting his bed as she’d just seen him deliberately wet his nappy. Billy had no defence so Lizzie was able to make him feel more guilt-ridden, whilst actually enjoying the fact he had no idea what was going on. However, she had no idea what was really going on in Billy’s bladder. # Billy knew she wasn’t joking and was relieved that he managed to turn back without her carrying out her threat to spank him. His relief didn’t last long as she soon pushed the other thick, adapted old terry towel under his bottom and began to fasten it in place. She deliberately made it double thickness so its huge, cushiony size would prevent Billy from finding any clothes to fit over it. His screams of indignation could have been heard across the street but he had no defence from the strength of his sister as she attempted to pin him in. He tried to pull it off but he got a smack for his pains together with a very severe warning if he continued to mess about worse would follow. She was adamant, for his own protection he was going to be wearing a nappy whether he liked it or not. Lizzie was happy to list the number of times he wet and that she wasn’t taking any chances on her ‘pissy little brother’ leaving a trail of pee wherever he went. So… he had a choice; either stop fighting and wear it, or fight, get a spanking and still have to wear it? He fought as best he could but there was a slight problem, she was far too strong and had become adept at holding him immobile whilst she did what she wanted. In the past that had ranged from tickling, through to just beating him up. She was very strong and knew that he’d have to obey or be hurt. Eventually, both the over-powering sense of guilt and the inevitable fight drained from him. He realised the futility and she took the opportunity to continue his change into the huge, dry, modified towel. “Don’t you dare take it off,” Lizzie screamed at him as she pulled the thick towel up between his legs. “I’ve just watched you piss yourself on purpose and if you think I have nothing better to do than run around changing and washing stuff after you mess up, you’re sadly mistaken.” To emphasise her point she indicated, with a slight tap to his head, the washing line outside that held the billowing results from two days of wet bedding. In Lizzie’s mind this was evidence to anyone with eyes to see that she was looking after her baby brother and sister. If she planned it right, the sheets wouldn’t need so much attention as they’d be both wearing nappies on a night and then, she got excited at the thought, it would be just a row of fluttering nappies proclaiming the return of babies back at the Southall residence. Why this pleased her so much she wasn’t sure… it just did and even the thought of changing wet nappy after wet nappy didn’t appear to deter her from her aim… it was a price worth paying… well for now at least. The warning smack to the back of his head had surprised but not hurt him, although it made him realise defying her was a stupid move. She was at her most determined so any protest would have been useless. So, as the final large pin held him tightly in his make-do nappy he had nowhere to go for support or anyone to defend his position. Also, she had indeed just watched him fill his already bloated protection so couldn’t argue that point, even if the reason was because she’d taken so long with Dee-Dee. However, her final threat was what made him simmer down as best he could. “If you carry on like this I’ll make you wear a nappy when your friends come over.” The look she gave him made him believe she wasn’t kidding. # He didn’t know it but two of his friends themselves were wearing protection having shit the bed on a couple of occasions; their parents taking the necessary precautions to prevent further mess and stinky pants. The two boys, Dave and Mitch, like Billy, had put up a fight but faced with the alternative (shitty pants) had grudgingly acquiesced to their parent’s solution. They, like him, had not linked their canal dip with their problem, but in both cases a thick nappy had been the temporary solution. Meanwhile, his other friend Aaron who had wet himself during the night had been able to hide the evidence from his parents so, for the moment at least, was wearing normal underwear. Although he wasn’t feeling too well, his dick burned when he peed, he tried to maintain his usual adventurous spirit and had gone off with his father walking in the hills. It was a day that wouldn’t end well for him. Billy continued to squirm uneasily in the thick homemade defence but wasn’t trying to remove it merely get comfortable. The cream his sister had spread over his rash had an immediate affect so wasn’t itching as much. So there was an air of inevitability to the procedure as he meekly let his sister finish getting him ready. Leading him by the hand as he waddled to his bedroom they went through the dresser and wardrobe trying to find something for him to wear that covered his protection but, as Lizzie knew only too well, it was far too thick for any of his clothes to fit. However, as she’d told Dee-Dee, they were going shopping in town so he had to find something as she wasn’t going to leave him home alone. Again he started to whine and complain but she simply told him to find something otherwise she’d dress him in some of her old clothes, which she held out for inspection. She really wished she could get him into a skirt like Dee-Dee was wearing but knew that was probably not something he’d do willingly. The flowery skirt and lacy top she held out doubling Billy’s efforts. # A few years earlier Billy had been forced into wearing some of Lizzie’s clothes when she and a group of her friends decided he was to be their dress-up doll for a game they were playing. Poor six year-old Billy didn’t get a chance to complain as grabbing prepubescent girly hands ambushed and easily pulled off his clothes. Distressed and crying for help he had little resistance as he was introduced to the realm of girly dresses and make-up. His juvenile embarrassment only came to an end only when his father arrived home, saw his painted face and told him to get cleaned up. Lizzie received no reprimand from either parent and even at that young age Billy was fostering a great deal of resentment. He was always punished if he did anything wrong and was upset at the injustice when his older sister wasn’t. Lizzie was the apple of her daddy’s eye, very like him in so many ways, and nothing a young shy boy searching for love and acceptance in the family could ever usurp. No mention was made to the fact he was wearing his sisters clothes, right down to her panties, or that he’d protested against being involved or that they’d bullied him into wearing it all. He was a boy and hadn’t wanted anything to do with their little game but it looked like he was the one held responsible even though he was only six at the time. Even with his father around it appeared the girls could do no wrong. For young Billy, life was unfair. Once Dee-Dee was a little older, she became the dress-up doll for their games. However, he never forgave his parents because they hadn’t punished Lizzie believing her side of the story that he’d asked to play with them and, much to his irritation, her friends supported that story. What was worse, they still mentioned the incident whenever they visited. It was in that one act of humiliation that young Billy had decided to rail against the rest of the family. He couldn’t change them but he would make sure they knew of his existence. He argued, got into trouble, fought for his place against the rest of the world as much as a young boy could. However, Lizzie, through sheer oppression, kept her little brother firmly at the bottom of the family pecking order. # Despite his protests Lizzie was adamant that she wasn’t going to leave him at home and that he had to go with them for some urgent shopping. She made him feel responsible by insisting it was because he was pissing the bed that they had to shop in the first place. She was fed up with his stalling so simply gave him one last warning and if he didn’t comply she’d “spank him raw put him in a dress and drag him kicking and screaming around town”. Wearing only a t-shirt and his make-do nappy Billy was panicking as he searched in vain for something, anything to wear. He knew Lizzie wasn’t joking and he’d die a thousand times of humiliation if he was seen by any of his friends wearing girl’s clothes. In the end, all he could find were a pair of thin but baggy white polyester shorts he wore to play footie in. If he pulled them up then the hem of his towel could be seen drooping down his leg hole, and if he pulled them a little way down, the thick, pinned waistband was clearly visible. In the end he settled on a jumper to cover the top part and hoped that his protection wouldn’t be too obvious under his shorts. Under Lizzie’s careful instructions Dee-Dee promised that his ample and very evident protective cushion wasn’t really all that noticeable. Lizzie had gleefully pointed out to her little sister that no one would notice her protection, which was just visible below her skirt, as they would all be looking at Billy. She’d been able to convince her that the protection was necessary… just to be safe, a line she used over and over again. All she had to do was pretend it hardly showed under his shorts and convince him that no one would be any the wiser. Lizzie was pleased with herself at having both of them wearing nappies to go into town… although she wished that Billy’s was more obvious. She didn’t have to worry. Once on the bus and well on their way to town it became evident to Billy that everyone knew he was wearing a nappy because that was all he could feel as he wriggled about in his seat. At one point the white terry material poked down both leg holes at the same time and he only noticed that fact when a small boy pointed it out to his mother. The young boy had apparently just been potty trained as he said rather loudly that he was a big boy now and didn’t need his ‘bah-bahs’ anymore. Giggling and pointing at the offending item it became plain just what his ‘bah-bahs’ were and all eyes looked towards Billy who tried to shrink away as he pulled at his pathetically useless shorts. The entire bus seemed to be smiling at his distress as he writhed in disgrace. Lizzie whispered to her reddening brother. “Don’t worry we’ll get you something to hide all that when we get to the shops.” Dee-Dee was making funny faces back at the outspoken toddler, who was happily giggling at her facial expressions. Meanwhile, his mother seemed embarrassed by her son’s loud declaration and was pointedly looking out of the window trying to avoid making eye contact with any of them. Despite that she had a slight smile in the corners of her mouth at a boy his age unmistakeably still wearing such a huge nappy. Lizzie also had a smile, and though she was attempting to put Billy at ease with his predicament, she was actually very pleased the young boy had noticed. She knew her brother well enough to identify how mortified he’d be feeling right at that moment and couldn’t wait to increase that shame. # Leaving the bus, Billy reluctantly followed his two sisters around. He’d noticed that Dee-Dee was also wearing her protection and wondered why she was wearing such a short skirt that revealed quite a bit of it. However, he then realised Lizzie had supervised her outfit like she’d done his so perhaps, like him, had no say in it. They’d both wet so this was Lizzie’s solution. He grumpily thought about the options he was given; either the pair of revealing shorts he was wearing, or some of Lizzie’s old clothes. He was certain he’d made the right choice. Once in the main shopping area it was busy enough for him not to worry too much about anyone noticing his thick padding but he was still on the lookout in case any of his school mates were around. So intent on spying for his friends he simply followed his sisters into a shop. Relieved to be away from the crowds he realised too late he was in the disposable and accessories aisle in one of the big pharmacies. A shiver ran down his spine when he understood they were there to buy more ‘baby’ items. He’d hoped that his and Dee-Dee’s accidents would be regarded as only temporary and they weren’t in need of extra supplies. He didn’t know about the good job Lizzie had done convincing their mother it was better to be safe than sorry. When the enormity of the situation dawned on him he was in for another surprise, a spurt of pee was just the herald for an absolute flood that suddenly filled his customized terry towel. There had been a brief stabbing pain just before he spurted into his nappy, which shocked him. He didn’t say or do anything as that jolt took control of his body. He didn’t hear a nearby lady asking if he was okay, or the fact that his white shorts now had a yellowing patch down the front. He just stood completely transfixed as he emptied his aching bladder without effort or advanced notice. It was as if his body had gone into automatic and he had no control. It was only the sudden thud to his chest that drew him out of his mesmerised state. Unaware of what was happening Lizzie had chucked a huge package of disposables for him to hold but he’d been so out of it he hadn’t noticed what she was doing. Lizzie, being ill-tempered at the best of times, simply forced the colourful bag into his hands and told him they were now his responsibility. It was only then that she noticed the tut-tutting of the lady and saw her eyes looking at the growing damp patch. “Oh Billy, not again.” She couldn’t believe what her brother was doing and surprised at his complete lack of understanding about the event. It was only a few seconds later it seemed to register on his face and the look of pain, embarrassment and fear gripped his features. He started to snivel. With an audience looking on Lizzie went into ‘Nice Lizzie’ mode and was immediately attentive to her little brother. “Don’t worry little fella.” She said as if talking to a toddler. “I’ll have you cleaned up and changed in seconds.” She was playing to the few people watching on. “Let’s find a place to get you sorted.” Dee-Dee stared in wonder as to what was happening but couldn’t help herself from patting her brother’s padded bottom and letting him know just how wet everything was looking back there. She’d gotten used to her own slippery protection and had been glad the night before for her plastic pants when she woke up soaked again but her bed was dry. She was really grateful they had prevented damp sheets, even if she hadn’t understood why she’d wet in the first place. However, the plastic pants had stopped her soaking everything else, so had been a good addition to her present wetting difficulty. They would have certainly helped Billy had he been wearing any. Lizzie just couldn’t believe Billy had publically wet himself. Apart from that first time a few nights ago when he’d wet the bed himself, she thought she’d been responsible for all his other little accidents but this… well this was nothing to do with her. # She left Dee-Dee and Billy sitting on a chair whilst she very quickly finished her shopping and then, armed with all her purchases, asked the sales assistant where the nearest changing facilities were. Luckily they weren’t very far away so she gathered them and everything up and made her way to the baby changing area. By this time Billy was feeling guilty, stupid and utterly humiliated by the entire event. His nappy had swollen and filled out his shorts, which were also very wet and discoloured. All three clambered into the changing room and locked the door. The look Lizzie gave Billy made him feel like an absolute baby. Without using any baby words she still managed, by her mocking tone alone, to make him feel nothing more than a toddler. Luckily she had bought enough items now to at least make sure he was cleaned up and put into something dry. “You see,” she pointed out, “you didn’t want to wear a nappy and now look… “ She left the insinuation in the air. Billy was on the verge of both another outburst and bursting into even more tears. He wanted to argue and put up a fight but the incident had knocked most of the stuffing out of him and he didn’t have the willpower. Lizzie made him lie out on the changing table, which even though wasn’t designed for someone Billy’s size seemed to fit. She pulled away the sodden shorts and discoloured towel and checked the redness that now surrounded that area. She could instantly tell that he would be getting an even more severe rash if further precautions weren’t taken. With a whole bunch of wet-wipes she cleaned him up and applied copious amounts of anti-rash cream plus loads of talcum powder. She pulled out a couple of soaker pads and inserted them into a freshly unfolded colourful disposable. “I’m not wearing that.” He protested. “And I’m not having you piss all over the shop, the bus or me… so yes… you bloody well are.” He wriggled trying to get away but Lizzie gave him a very powerful slap to his naked thigh and he immediately stopped, finding tears more of a diversion than the fact she was taping him into a very thick disposable. His eyes were bleary from weeping so didn’t notice that she also started to role a pair of thick white plastic pants over it all. “I don’t want to… I don’t wanna… wear … bbbaby pantsss…” Billy struggled with his emotions and inability to do anything about it once Lizzie was in one of her moods. “Maybe not, but we don’t want you leaking all over everyone… and besides…” Lizzie mocked, “you’ll want something to hide your nappy.” With a final yank they were over the bulge and an unhappy Billy sat sobbing. The colourful pattern of the disposable could faintly be made out behind the gloss of his new semi-transparent vinyl pants. “How about you Dee-Dee, do you need a change?” Lizzie asked. Looking at how big her brother’s protection now was… she shook her head. “Okay, let’s go.” “But what about sssome pants?” Billy stammered through his tears. “We don’t have any and you can’t wear the ones you came in as they’re wet and stained.” She shook her head at him. “You’ll just have to make do.” “But, but…” Billy tried to object but it was no use. “Can’t we bbbuy something…?” Lizzie sounded concerned and convincing when she said they had no money for anything else and that unfortunately there was no alternative so he’d just have to put up with it, at least the nappy was now hidden. She pulled him to his feet and even Dee-Dee gulped at just how big his padding now appeared. The white shiny plastic appeared to glow as it strained around the bulk. There was a loud rustling sound as he moved because he was having difficulty walking. He really was in a very awkward situation and Dee-Dee wriggled, thankful that her protection wasn’t nearly as obvious. She involuntarily reached beneath her dress, smoothed her own nappy down and sighed in relief. Billy didn’t detect his little sister’s gasp of concern as he was being instructed by Lizzie that, as there was nothing they could do about it, and, so as not to draw attention to the problem, he should carry the large pack of disposables in front of him and they would walk behind. It wasn’t the best solution but it would give him some privacy. Tears flooded down his cheeks as she opened the changing room door and led her charges out and back into the store. A couple of people who had heard him crying were looking on but once they saw he was physically alright they went about their business. # Lizzie gave him the biggest bag to carry so he could hold it in front of his huge puffy crotch, which was now encased in shiny white vinyl and reflecting the light. It became like a flashing beacon to everyone as he passed. Lizzie was overjoyed at the spectacle of having both her charges wearing obvious plastic pants which barely disguised the nappy underneath. This was her plan and it had all come together at remarkable speed. Dee-Dee’s glossy baby pants would flash occasionally as she walked or gave a childish hop, whilst Billy, with a certain glistening rustle, strode disconsolately and awkwardly ahead of them both. Sniggers and comments were hardly muted as Lizzie guided her grumpy brother and sister towards the bus stop. “Can’t we get a taxi? Please let us get a taxi…” He pleaded with his big sister but she just shook her head and told him they weren’t made of money. A miserable and nervous Billy was the centre of attention for everyone, not just those passengers on the bus. His shame was complete when, with still a couple of bus stops left before home, and after a brief but severe stabbing pain in his gut (more excitable microbes were now happily playing in his bowel), he filled his disposable with more than pee. Elizabeth noticed his sudden change of attitude as he sat there with the huge package of disposables on his lap. His constant complaining stopped; his face went a bright red and his eyes misted over as silent tears ran down his cheeks. An unpleasant sneer, as if he’d witnessed some diabolical event, slid over his face before he cast his eyes down to the floor, ashamed of what he’d detected. Thankfully for Billy, the huge protection he was wearing absorbed all he’d discharged and the plastic pants, tightly hugging everything together, prevented any embarrassing smell or leakage. Lizzie didn’t know precisely what had happened but knew something had. The way he was grasping the huge package of colourful disposables so tightly against his protection, meant something drastic and critical had taken place. However, completely out of character, she sympathetically put her arm around her little brother. It wasn’t that she particularly felt sorry for Billy, but instinctively knew that if she came across as caring, she’d be able to manipulate him a lot more easily when needed. She squeezed her brother and whispered that he shouldn’t worry because accidents happen, they’d be home soon and she was there to help. The walk from the bus stop back to the house was slow and disgusting for Billy as he tentatively waddled, aware of the lumpy wet stinking mess filling the rear of his protection. Although, he’d hated being made to wear all the thick padding, he was grateful that he’d not leaked in public. It wasn’t Lizzie’s fault he’d pissed and now crapped himself and for once she wasn’t ridiculing or shouting at him. His misery compounded he really was reliant on Lizzie to help him through this. He had no idea why he now shit his pants but that stabbing pain must have been some indication that something was wrong. In spite of this he never thought about his swim in the canal and simply surmised it had probably been something he’d eaten. It was as if, for the first time in his life, Lizzie actually understood he was in need of a few nice words to lift him from the pit of despair he was in. Despite himself, he was happy that his big sister was looking after him. Dee-Dee slowly became aware of what her brother had done and cheekily slapped his bulging, squelchy bottom as a joke. Billy wasn’t in any mood for such ‘playful’ antics and complained bitterly to Lizzie that it wasn’t fair. He was now sounding like a whiny little toddler and she couldn’t have been happier. She hugged him close and told him not to worry it would be fine; all the time thinking her plan couldn’t be going any better. # Part 3 Once home Lizzie’s first job was to get Billy cleaned up. He felt totally dejected, the bad start to the day, having to wear padding, had gotten worse and the only saving grace had, ridiculous to say, ended up being his thick, glossy disposable. Billy was eleven years old and hated being made into this vulnerable little kid. The fact that his nakedness was ignored as he was stripped out of his wet clothes and treated like, well, like he had no say in anything anymore infuriated him, but was powerless against the female forces he was up against. His small stature and slim physique made it so, no matter how hard he fought (and he did), he was really no challenger to Lizzie’s complete and utter dominance. From being a toddler to now, he was very much the plaything of his older sister so she had the final say in everything. Most times his sheer nuisance value and belligerent stance meant he was avoided but now she had him in her sights, he didn’t stand a chance. He’d hated being made to wear a nappy to go into town, it seemed excessive and an attempt by Lizzie to humiliate him. Just because he’d wet a couple of times didn’t give her that right… well Billy thought not, even though she had very easily manipulated him into one. He hated his sister. He’d hated everything she’d done. He hated his mum for allowing her to bully him but, and this is what narked him, as it turned out, she was right and that took Billy to a strange place where he wasn’t sure of anything anymore. Doubts about all manner of things were lying just beneath the surface and that made him very uncomfortable. He could only guess how much worse it would have been to fill his pants so unexpectedly in public wearing just his usual briefs and shorts? Begrudgingly he felt grateful for all the protection Lizzie had pinned him into. He didn’t like this feeling of gratitude; it messed up all other thoughts. # Lizzie had no idea why Billy had crapped himself and wondered what he might have eaten to cause such a terrible result. She worried in case they’d all eaten the same thing and this was what the future held for all of them. Oddly enough, when she’d planned making Billy and Dee-Dee her babies Lizzie hadn’t thought through that it might include something as dire as changing a shitty nappy. Of course, it wasn’t the first time she’d done such a thing. On many occasions, when Dee-Dee was a baby she’d happily change her and loved being allowed to dress her up afterwards. In fact, as she thought about it, even then she used to wrap her little sister in thick padding before adding plastic pants, a colourful onesie or cute little dress. It had been fun making her baby sister look pretty and when she’d tried it with Billy a few times, being an annoying boy; he ran off or created a scene. However, when able to subdue him with the help of friends she thought how lovely he looked with his big frightened eyes setting off the pretty dress she’d put him in. Meanwhile, Billy’s stomach continued to grumble and wasn’t sure the worst was yet over. The look of total defeat was etched across his face… and in his stained nappy. So, now there were other consequences it was Lizzie who had to suck it up and deal with it. Nonetheless, at that moment she loved the humiliation it caused to her whiny little brother. The fact that he had no idea what to do about his full nappy merely emphasised what a baby he was. The tears had been real, his utter embarrassment was real but he obviously needed an adult to sort his problem out. Being quite a clever girl she realised that if she could get through this messy part of the operation it would give her more control over what her brother could do. She had to take away all his independence and manipulate him into doing exactly what she decided. She took a deep breath and slid down those new large slippery vinyl pants… # Under normal circumstances Billy would have been creating and making life difficult. Even in such dire circumstances his hackles would have been up and he’d be as obnoxious and obstructive as possible. But that was under normal circumstances, at the moment he was feeling decidedly weak and ill, was wearing a ballooning, shitty disposable and desperately needed some care and attention. Strange as it may sound he was getting it from his despicable, overbearing and annoying sister. Billy had dumped quite a number. So it had been fortunate that Lizzie had gone ahead and padded him so well at the store, tucked in the fabric and made sure the elastic in the vinyl pants was tight around his legs. Otherwise a trail of brown liquid would have followed them all the way from the bus stop. He didn’t know it at that moment but he really had to thank the hated shiny white plastic pants for presenting a leak-proof seal, which was able to contain the worst of what his body could no longer hold back. Thus the rustling of his plastic pants as she removed them was more of a plus than a minus; they’d done their job well. On top of that the delicate way they slid down his legs sent a shiver through his body causing another spasm and a jet of pee to shoot into the saturated material. One positive thing Lizzie noticed, Billy wasn’t putting up a fight. He lay there quite still as she removed the filthy item and then proceeded to wipe him clean as best she could. His embarrassment at being naked was obvious but a gentle pat of his hand away from his penis was all that was needed for Lizzie to get to work properly. He looked both self-conscious and on the verge of even more tears but at least he wasn’t complaining, this was unusual for Billy. He mentioned that his stomach was still bubbling and feared the worse so, once the initial clean-up was over, naked apart from a t-shirt, he made his way to the toilet and sat waiting for whatever was to come next. He didn’t have to wait long before the next stream of watery brown fluid gushed from his bum-hole. Those nasty little bugs were having a field day in his gut but this time the toilet was the recipient, Billy thought he was very lucky to be in the right place on that occasion. Whilst Billy evacuated all that was left inside Lizzie set about getting his room ready. The bed was already stripped and aired out so it was easy to fit a plastic under-sheet she’d found earlier in the attic, before adding the rest of the bedding. She’d discussed this preventative measure with her mother earlier when it had been decided to protect the mattress from further damage. Always cunning and planning she had seen this development of adding a plastic sheet as a reminder of his wetting status and further proof he was nothing but a pissy baby around whom precautions were necessary. Of course she hadn’t said this to her mother, merely suggesting it as a way to lessen any damage to his bed. Sandra had thought it a good idea and a fairly easy first line of defence, she gladly given her consent. Lizzie made up Billy’s bed and placed the bag of disposable on his dresser complete with the batch of new larger cotton nappy squares and soaker pads. A bunch of equally bold nappy pins were all clustered together in a colourful array. Her brother may have thought his situation was only temporary but she wanted to emphasise just what a little baby he was. Having all this stuff spread out, taking over his schoolboy space and turning it into a room for a tot was sending a strong message even if he wasn’t aware of it yet. Then she spread various powders, creams and lotions, as well as the big pink container of wipes in a sort of arc around the nappies. Finally, she opened a pack of 2-4-1 vinyl pants but was surprised to find they were pink. The image on the front of the pack gave no idea of the colour inside; she just thought they’d be another opaque white. The colour delighted her but decided that, for the moment, she wanted to keep them as a surprise for Billy so slyly hid them under the bag of disposables. # Eventually he was empty and felt marginally better if a bit hot, achy and flustered. After a shower he returned to find Lizzie waiting armed with yet more padding, this time they weren’t disposable but fabric. Naked, apart from a small towel he was using to dry himself (which on seeing Lizzie he held tightly over his penis for modesty’s sake), he was stunned to see his room so transformed and for a brief second anger was his main reaction. However, before it took hold, he was taken by the arm and led to a nappy already set out on the floor. Without so much as a word of permission she pulled the towel away and indicated he should sit on the prepared material. Again anger was bubbling away but she didn’t give it a chance to brew. “At the moment you’re a shitting machine so we need to get you well protected…” She pushed him down onto the pile of fabric. “…and before you start bellyaching… it’s for your own good… you need to be safe.” This was the forceful and unsympathetic Lizzie. The determined look in her eye showed she meant business and after the messy day he’d had wasn’t up for a fight. It was strange that Billy associated the fabric nappies as being very childish but the disposables as more grown up, so he was unprepared to find himself being swaddled in proper thick (babyish) terry cotton cloth (with a couple of soaker pads added) and pinned firmly in place before a large pair of white vinyl pants were fitted over it all. Lizzie loved to see the thick cushion the nappy produced and the fact that once applied, any indication as to the sex of the recipient, was completely obliterated. The huge padding at his crotch taking away the very thing that made him a boy, now he was just a sexless toddler. She wished she could really dress him up as she saw fit but, for the time being at least, the glossy outline of his bulky nappy was enough to make her smile. Billy wanted to object, saying this wasn’t right for a boy his age, but after what had occurred thought it might be for the best. Besides he was too drained to fight her and certainly didn’t want to find himself with a great pile of do-dos in his pants. The shame and humiliation he was feeling had cut down his animosity towards his sisters. Why this had happened to him he wasn’t sure but needed Lizzie’s help now to make sense of, or at least clean up, his messy trouble. “Please don’t tell mum about any of this…” He begged as he took in all the baby paraphernalia Lizzie had so recently used and now surrounded him. “She, she doesn’t need to know about my accident” The look of panic on his face was real and Lizzie knew she had him. “You’re in a bad way baby brother,” she said in a cross between a condescending and understanding tone, “so I don’t want to hear you object with the precautions I’m taking.” He looked down at his thick padding and shiny plastic pants and sighed in exasperation but knew he had no choice. He reluctantly nodded his head. # He needed to keep in Lizzie’s good books so that was one of the reasons he wasn’t kicking up a fuss. He thought if his mother knew he was shitting as well as pissing in his nappy she’d go ballistic and he’d have the sorest tanned butt in the country after she’d finished with him. Lizzie tried to placate her worried brother by coming up with an idea, and that was, letting him take credit for his current outfit. “Don’t worry; mum isn’t going to go mad over an accident, especially as you were already wearing protection. Let’s just say it was your idea.” She paused to see if her suggestion had sunk in. “We’ll say that after all your little accidents you wanted something to keep you safe.” She was warming to her subject. “All this,” she pointed to his huge protection, “is your idea. You just wanted… no…. you want to be on the safe side.” She looked pleased with herself for coming up with what was obviously a wonderful plan. “If mum asks we’ll say you insisted on wearing thick protection because you were worried you might yet have another accident.” She looked at her brother with an encouraging smile. “I bet she’d be proud that you had such, erm, forethought. She’ll be delighted.” Billy didn’t like this at all. He couldn’t see mum being proud about shitting himself but was really quite exhausted from everything and couldn’t think of any argument against the proposal. Strangely, Lizzie was being nice. After all, had it not been for what she’d done he would’ve been far more embarrassed… messier… and humiliated in public. He did feel completely washed out by the events of the past few hours; the shame, the tears, the pissing at the shop, whilst the sudden burst of diarrhoea had simply sapped his strength. The rumble and ache in his belly continued and there was a slight burning sensation in his willy but fatigue swamped him and he just wanted to rest. Whatever argument he came up with to counter Lizzie’s suggestion she was able to shoot down fairly easily. Logic wasn’t Billy’s strength and she made it sound like his mother would be more pleased than mad at what had transpired. He wasn’t convinced but too shattered to keep up any form of objection. He’d grimaced all through the nappy procedure. The creams, the powder, the total disregard for his privacy, whilst he had physically shaken when she pulled the infantile material up between his legs and used large pink pins to hold it in place. Also the fact it wasn’t right for an eleven year-old to be dressed in such a way briefly ran through his mind, but, at the same time, he knew he needed it with the current state of his gurgling stomach. “To be on the safe side.” Were Lizzie’s calming words all the way through the process. Eventually, Lizzie managed to persuade him to take a nap and, though it was an anathema for a boy his age to be taking afternoon naps, after what he’d been through it seemed quite a good proposal. After all, he was feeling pretty drained, a bit achy and hoped that a little sleep would put him right. His big, controlling sister guided him to bed and, as he yawned, convinced him that he’d feel better after forty winks. The nappy was an awkward thick bulge between his legs he’d just have to put up with it. The resentment that had been there at the beginning of the day was forgotten and though he didn’t like it could see it might be necessary. What was strange to Billy, this didn’t seem like Lizzie was doing it to embarrass him. It appeared she was just thinking of his ‘security’ and the desire not to see him mess anymore. So, no matter how much he’d like to have defied her he was in no position for that to happen. He didn’t know if or when his body would betray him next. “Best be on the safe side” had been her mantra as she made his nappy thick and plastic pants impregnable. All he wore was his chunky protection so Lizzie was overjoyed to see him waddle to his bed, rustling as he went, and flop down on his front; the huge plastic dome of his well-padded bottom shining in the afternoon light. Meanwhile, as she looked on, the slight crackle of the plastic sheet and the rustle of his vinyl pants as he settled down brought a wider smile to her face and a wicked thought to her brain. “The baby has landed.” She drew the blinds to darken the room and quietly slipped one of Dee-Dees teddy bears in next to him. “Just in case you need a fwend to hug,” she whispered as if he was a toddler. She loved the scene and was determined that was how her baby brother should always be regarded. After the experiences Billy had he was more tired than he would have admitted and after only a few moments, drifted off. # In the interim, Lizzie was checking on Dee-Dee. She was still dry, which wasn’t a surprise really, but quite animated at the way her brother had been so easily coerced by her big sister. She’d been astonished at the shop by just how easily Billy had been manipulated into wearing such a thick disposable, with extra padding and plastic pants. It was true he’d wet but she thought he’d put up more of a struggle or run off. However, the shame must have meant that any hostility he may have had was no longer there and he’d just do whatever Lizzie told him. This was very unlike Billy but so like Lizzie; she loved to be in charge, get her own way and keep her stubborn little brother firmly in his place. Dee-Dee had been so mesmerized by what Billy was doing… and then wearing, she’d forgotten all about her own protection. She still blamed Billy for ‘infecting’ her and making her wake up wet, but she knew she shouldn’t be having such accidents at her age. She’d been lucky that, unlike her brother who had publicly wet himself, she had no such problems. However, she was quite fearful, after seeing Billy do what he did, it might happen to her next. Strangely, having gotten used to it, she didn’t mind the padding and besides (as she unintentionally stroked the plastic material), perhaps the protection her clever, older sister had insisted on hadn’t been a bad idea. She really would have been mortified had she wet in public. Dee-Dee also liked the fact that Billy’s nappy and noisy plastic pants were far more noticeable than her own. She didn’t want to be that well-padded but realised, with all he’d been through; he probably needed such a copious amount of wadding. His complete and utter humiliation of wearing nothing but his nappy and pants as he walked through the shopping centre had her and co-conspirator Lizzie giggling behind their snivelling brother. It hadn’t gone un-noticed that Billy had gotten very weepy, more malleable and juvenile in his mannerisms. He was crying an awful lot, a wet nappy really reining in his usual bluster, and seemed unable to do anything for himself so needed mummy’s or Lizzie’s help to cope. Like her sister she was of the opinion her brother was nothing but a big baby. # It was strange that the female perception of Billy was as a noisy, annoying, self-obsessed boy destined to be a pain to all who met him. Whilst his opinion of himself was that he was trying to be heard and noticed over the inaccessible tribal instincts of the females in the family. Lizzie had made a discovery; keeping both kids as babies was going to be incredibly hard work. She needed help, and although she knew she could rely on a couple of her friends offering to lend a hand, the thought of making Billy subservient to his little sister would be far more enjoyable. So, whilst Billy dozed in one room Lizzie was sounding out her sister to see if she fancied in on the game. She didn’t tell her too much, just hinting that her brother might need extra help in the days to come and would she be up for ‘helping’ out. Not wanting to raise her little sister’s suspicions she told her that, despite what mum said, if she could go the night without wetting, she would be taken out of her protection and given back her knickers… but ONLY, Lizzie stressed, if she went the entire night without an accident. Of course this was easy to organise, her squeezy bottle would be kept entirely for the Billy’s use and Dee-Dee would be none the wiser. Meanwhile, still wearing her thick protection, Lizzie told her to go and play outside in the sun whilst her brother slept. She enjoyed seeing her little sister in her thick nappy and plastic pants and, it didn’t look wrong on her small frame. In fact, it wouldn’t look wrong if both her siblings were wearing the same infantile outfit. For a brief second Lizzie saw both Billy and Dee-Dee wearing exactly the same babyish items and playing together in the sunny backyard. A docile Billy happily playing with dolls or enjoying a stuffed toy tea party, supervised by his little sister; both their thick padding and shiny, glossy protection, glinting in the balmy afternoon sunlight. Lizzie chuckled to herself. As she set up a few toys in the garden, Dee-Dee, unaware of her sister’s involvement in her morning accidents, noticed for the first time just how much more work the two of them wetting the bed caused. The washing line was full of sheets, blankets, PJs and a host of other things that flapped wildly in the afternoon breeze. No wonder both mum and Lizzie were adamant they should both wear protection to cut down on the amount of laundry. For the first time she felt guilty about making so much extra work and thankful for her plastic security. Once her little sister was gone Lizzie crept back into Billy’s room and squirted more liquid into her sleeping brother’s nappy. She wanted him to wake up soaked and in need of even thicker protection. Had she checked she would have realised he was already pretty soaked, this extra dousing adding to the bulk of his nappy. Billy slept on oblivious to all that was happening in his plastic enclosure. Those naughty little bugs causing him to seep continually, changing the white fabric a pale but very definite orange colour. # “Wake up Billy, time for tea.” Billy struggled awake on hearing the words and felt fingers probing his legs. He didn’t immediately remember why he was in bed and didn’t realise it was his mother who was checking his padding. Of course he was soaked. Because he was still confused about being in bed, wearing such bulky protection and be sopping wet he was immediately on guard. He was sure his mother would go mental and start beating his butt with a vengeance. As it was she seemed to be understanding and quite calm. He didn’t comprehend why she was behaving in such a manner. There was both confusion and fear etched on Billy’s face as his mother finally withdrew her fingers from the leg of his protection. “Soaked.” Billy dreaded what would happen next. Sandra saw the anxious and nervous expression he gave her. “Oh sweetie, Lizzie’s told me all about your accident.” He looked at her horrified. She had been surprised to learn from Lizzie about what had happened and further surprised to discover her son sleeping wearing such a thick nappy, which, according to her, had been his idea. He’d slept deeply all afternoon so was still not fully awake as Sandra inspected his nappy. His ballooning plastic pants and sluggish movement gave him a very juvenile look and she felt some sympathy for the torrid time he’d so recently endured. However, tired from work as she was, there was no escaping that, at that moment he looked like a little boy in need of love and protection. After all, he’d had a nasty accident in public so, perhaps him wetting, was down to something more than being naughty or too lazy to get to the bathroom. Dressed as he was it was easy to see him as a needy little kid and not the annoying eleven year-old who normally slept in that bed. She couldn’t be too angry with her son who was suffering from a nasty stomach bug that had rendered him so indisposed. “She said you’d insisted in the shop, because you didn’t feel well, you might need extra protection…” The panic of having such a dramatic incident in the shop and on the bus came flooding back and an involuntary, nervous burst of burning pee shot into the front of the already saturated material. He couldn’t understand why his mum was being so sympathetic. Whatever Lizzie said had taken the sting out of his mother’s reaction. He wasn’t happy with the way this account was going, he didn’t want to take credit for the way he was dressed, but his mother continued talking and she seemed satisfied with Lizzie’s explanation. “…so well done you for thinking ahead.” Praise, from his mother, well that was something new. He was normally at loggerheads with the women in his life and here was his mother, being nice and supportive, even though he’d so recently filled his pants… he was confused. Lizzie must have told her a pack of lies for her to be so tolerant but, whatever was said, it looked at least like he wasn’t going to get a spanking. Well, he hoped not. # Sandra had arrived home tired and frustrated; it had been that kind of day when business was taking its time. She had negotiated and charmed her way through an important meeting but still no one had signed on the dotted line. It looked like the discussions were going to carry on the next day. So, she was pleased that Lizzie had sorted everything out, even with Billy having such a dramatic accident… owing to “food poisoning, or something” her daughter had surmised. Sandra was thrilled that everyone wasn’t at each other’s throat. Elizabeth seemed to have everything under control (as she knew she would) and even what could have been a disaster with Billy’s accident, was averted thanks to her children thinking for once. She was very pleased with her kids, even if frustrated with work. She’d noticed that Dee-Dee was wearing protection (as a precaution seeing as what happened to Billy) and had to admit her youngest looked so damn pretty. Then being confronted with her argumentative son looking so sweet in his massive cushion of protection had been a revelation. She’d come home to a house that wasn’t at war but very much at peace. The kids looked ‘comfy’ (if well protected), so whatever Lizzie had done appeared to be working. This was another thing that Lizzie mentioned to her mother that had got her thinking. She told her that since being put in thick nappies, there’d been less arguments and more cooperation between brother and sisters. Lizzie laid it on thick. Being treated as toddlers and having to wear protection had somehow, changed the way they interacted, and in a good way. Billy wasn’t happy but at least it had stopped him quarrelling as he’d to deal with what he was wearing (and depositing in his nappy) rather than annoying his sisters. This wasn’t necessarily true but Lizzie was keen that Sandra should see the positive side of what she was doing, though decided she didn’t have to know everything that was going on to achieve such results. It lifted a great weight of responsibility off their mother’s shoulders now she felt that Lizzie could cope and the children were all able to help. She was really happy that even argumentative Billy, feeling a bit queasy in the shop, had, according to Lizzie, insisted that ‘to be on the safe side’, he should wear a disposable… and it had paid off. The disaster that could have ensued had Billy not come up with the suggestion would have been too messy to contemplate. Lizzie had speculated to her mother that perhaps Billy, and maybe all of them, had eaten something that had gone off, which might have caused the messy incident. She didn’t mention that Billy had to come home wearing only his protection and no pants. She wanted her mum to think everything was as ‘normal’ as possible and she wasn’t just out to embarrass her brother. Sandra was glad her kids, reacting to their wetting problems, realised protection was a good thing to have. Certainly in the short term (and she desperately hoped that’s what it would be), the little money spent on a few preventative measures was already paying off. Lizzie had not squandered a fortune but what she had bought was so obviously working. Lizzie confidently let mum know that she was happy to keep taking full responsibility for her siblings. # Meanwhile, mum was still trying to cajole Billy to come down for tea. “So, do you feel up to joining us for tea? Lizzie said that you’ve been feeling exhausted after your disaster… She patted his padded bottom. “No doubt something you’d eaten… but hopefully all that’s passed now.” She smiled and held out her hand to guide him from his crinkly pit. Billy looked at his expanded protection and shook his head. “Mum, I can’t walk around like this… um… I need something to cover…” “Don’t be silly. There’s only me and your sisters so no one is going to see.” Billy had visions of the bus full of people who’d already seen his shame but, as his mum was in a good mood didn’t want to upset her. She placed the back of her hand against his forehead. “You do seem to be running a bit of a temperature… we’ll see how it goes before we do anything else. Are you coming?” Awkwardly he swung his feet from the crinkly bed and got up. The weight of his soaked nappy felt really weird but thankfully the plastic pants kept everything tightly encased. Wearing just his super-soaked and bulging padding he ambled down after his mum and sat at the table with his sisters who were both beaming at him. He eyed them warily. # Whatever Lizzie said had certainly got mom on-side so didn’t want to spoil things by complaining about what he had to sit in. He squished into his seat and the girls smiled at the soft rustling of his huge plastic pants. He was nowhere near comfortable but ate his meal with barely a word, whilst Lizzie explained to their mother about the venture to the shops and what she’d ended up buying. She explained the store had been having an ‘end of season’ sale where special offers included disposables and fabric nappies in a joint deal. Lizzie had been proud that she’d been able to get a huge amount of fabric squares at a greatly reduced price. She admitted to being disappointed that vinyl pants hadn’t only been a 2-4-1 offer on some special packs. With the soaker pads, extra talc and anti-rash creams she’d also purchased the bill was really quite reasonable, which pleased Sandra. What Lizzie didn’t mention was that, like her father, she’d indulged in a bit of criminality, so during the confusion with Billy’s accident, she’d managed to shoplift a few extra items. A few extra pairs of rubber pants, extra fabric squares and other bits and bobs had remained hidden at the bottom of her large shopping bag as she tried to rush her purchases through the checkout so as to attend to her messy brother. The young lady cashier was full of sympathy for the young girl with two young kids in tow who, looking at their thick protection, were possibly ‘special needs’ children. She thought how awful the parents must have been to give a teenager such responsibility… and now the poor girl had to sort out her brother’s saturated pants. YUK. As far as Lizzie was concerned it had all gone off wonderfully and Billy crapping his nappy on the way home was just the surprising icing on the cake. # Sandra couldn’t help but notice how well behaved her children were at the table. There were no quarrels, no snapping or baiting each other and that hadn’t happened at a meal time for many years. In fact, she couldn’t quite believe how Lizzie seemed to have stopped the inevitable squabbling. She was full of praise for the efforts her eldest had put into both the shopping and looking after her brother. Sandra realised that perhaps them being put back into nappies had been the key. Certainly as she watched her son and youngest silently eat their food, the only thing that had changed since every other meal was that they were both in cushioned protection. Inwardly she thought to herself - If that’s what it takes then so be it. Later, when Billy and Dee-Dee were watching TV, both in very visible inflated plastic pants, she pulled Lizzie to one side and privately had a word. “Well Sweetheart, I don’t know how you’ve done it but… Thank You.” She delivered a heartfelt kiss to her daughter’s forehead. “Ohh muuummm.” Lizzie was a bit embarrassed but actually loved the praise she was receiving. “As I said this morning, perhaps a few days in nappies and being treated as babies is just the incentive they need to grow up.” Of course Lizzie didn’t really believe that statement but it seemed the right thing to say. Also, she still had no idea Billy was wetting and shitting himself thanks to some nasty little bugs he’d picked up during his illicit swim. She thought he must have eaten something to cause the diarrhoea and although she’d hated having to change him, it certainly gave her an excuse to make sure he had to wear the thick padding she thought would shame him the most. “Well, if Billy’s accident is anything to go by,” Sandra nodded in affirmation, “you certainly picked the best time to put that theory into practice.” “So, is it OK to carry on? I mean, it appears to be working but I think if they keep wetting perhaps we should take it up a notch?” Lizzie’s mind knew exactly how this would be achieved whereas her mother didn’t comprehend the lengths she’d go to humiliate her brother. “Well let’s hope it doesn’t last much longer… I can’t understand why it should happen now, just at the start of the break…” “Perhaps they’re just over excited?” Lizzie ventured. “Mmmm maybe… but it does seem strange.” There was a slight perplexed look on her face as she stared into space in thought. That was the last thing Lizzie needed, her mother questioning things. She had to think fast. “Well the padding will take care of that” Lizzie said light-heartedly, bringing Sandra back from her ruminations. With everything else that was on her mind Sandra seemed relieved she didn’t have to give it any more thought and gently rubbed her daughter’s arm in thanks. Lizzie had been spinning a series of lies and half-truths to get her way and they appeared to be paying off. She convinced her mother that the ‘united front’ in dealing with the younger members of the family should continue “… seeing as how it was working”. “Yes well… you seem to have it all under control Sweetheart, so I’ll leave it in your capable hands if that’s OK with you?” “No probs mum. You just worry about work and I’ll sort those two out.” She nodded in the direction of the TV room. It was amazing just how alike they were as they lay out watching TV. The same brown hair, the same small, slim bodies and the large gleaming protection, it wasn’t difficult to see them as a couple of incontinent pre-schoolers. Whilst mother and sister chatted, Billy and Dee-Dee had been watching their favourite programme. Unfortunately for Billy, those nasty little microbes were multiplying and being very active in his gut. A sudden pain pierced his stomach. He jumped up with every intention of getting to the toilet and, although he thought he was empty, those feisty bacteria had been taking full advantage of what was on offer. So, without much notice, he once again filled the back of his nappy in a huge wet fart; the lumpy, runny, disgusting discharge impacting dynamically on the already well-soaked fabric. It was so loud that it brought mum and Lizzie in to see what had happened but the look of sheer horror on Billy’s face, standing legs wide apart and shaking told its own. Part 4 “Mummy… Billy’s done a poo.” Dee-Dee’s observations weren’t necessary as no one could be in any doubt as to what had just taken place. “Mummy, my tummy hurts.” Sandra couldn’t believe Billy was actually using those words. He hadn’t called her ‘mummy’ in years but at that moment her scared and messy little boy needed her to make things better. The brat had turned into a forlorn little cherub. For more time than she cared to remember Billy had been an annoying little horror; always arguing, always causing trouble, always being at the centre if anything went wrong - it was always Billy’s fault. But now, with a full nappy and when he looked so childish and fragile, so needy and so pathetic her ‘mummy instincts’ kicked in and all she wanted to do was make him feel safe. Lizzie watched for a brief second before volunteering to sort him out but it was mother who Billy sought to comfort him. He clung to her apologising and crying but not daring to move in case he made things worse. He could feel the mush spreading around his butt cheeks and now his bladder was also empty, the prickly sensation in his willy had stopped to be replaced by a warm soggy glow around his genitals. Thankfully, the plastic pants had done their job in preventing any leaks and containing the stinking mess lodged in the thick damp lagging. It was a good job that Liz had once again been ahead of the game and used stuffers to help absorb the load. Likewise, they were doing what they were designed to do as they swelled under the mass of liquid poor Billy expelled. Sandra saw the absolute dejection on her son’s miserable face and her heart went out to him. She may be inundated with work but at that moment her little boy needed her and she was there to help. It had been a very long time since he’d sought any kind of comfort from her. In fact, he had gone out of his way since being very young to prove he didn’t need a mother’s touch. He kept any sensitive stuff well away from everybody and Sandra believed he was totally incapable of showing any emotion, certainly towards the family. This was quite a turn up for the book, had wearing a nappy made him more affectionate? She slowly guided him tearfully up the stairs to the bathroom where she set about cleaning him up and making sure he was well looked after. Lizzie went into Billy’s room and got a few stuffers and a large disposable ready, as well as arranging the various creams and powders she thought were needed. She also left the packet of new plastic pants out for Sandra to use as the other pairs were now in desperate need of a good soak. Lizzie was very attentive and asked her mother if she needed anything else. “See if you can find him one of your old large t-shirts to wear…” “No probs.” # Lizzie was suddenly struck by an idea about one of the things she wore when a little younger and went to dance class, it was a sort of leotard that fastened with press studs under the crotch. She thought this would be ideal for Billy to wear as it would keep his thick protection in place so wouldn’t slip down if he had a fretful night. The fact that it was a very pale pink with the outline in darker pink of a cat licking its paws was, as far as Lizzie was concerned, just a bonus. Lizzie listened as her mother sympathised with Billy’s condition, he was still sobbing and between gulps of air childishly apologising for making a mess. Sandra settled into her motherly role as she cleaned him up and asked him if he thought he needed the toilet any more. He shook his head. Her little boy had never looked so pathetic and didn’t even try to object as she wiped him with a warm wash cloth, rubbed in the rash prevention cream and liberally doused him in powder. Lizzie had set out the soaker pads and disposable ready for use so Sandra slipped the bulk under her distressed son and securely taped him in. “Just to be on the safe side.” She whispered as her son wriggled uncomfortably. Whether he liked it or not Billy didn’t say because he was so worn out and ashamed there was nothing he could have done to prevent what was happening. She pulled open the pack of plastic pants being handed to her by Lizzie and was surprised they were pink. However, without missing a beat, and acting like it was the most natural thing in the world to do, she shuffled them up his hairless legs and over the huge cushion he would be wearing to bed. The grimace as the large crinkly pink plastic pants were tucked into place didn’t materialise into anything further, nor did it when Lizzie arrived with the t-shirt for him. His mother simply slipped it over his head, fed his arms through and pulled it down over the bulky protection. She noticed the press studs and, thinking they were a very good idea, immediately fastened them up. Billy hadn’t noticed the cat on the front but even so wasn’t overly happy about what was happening to him and, with the press-studs snapped together, the onesie held everything tightly in place. However, as his mother had taken charge, he hadn’t been spanked and she was being very compassionate, he didn’t want to cause a change in her temperament by complaining. Pretty soon he was ready so his caring mother led him by the hand to bed and, with the serenade of the rustling plastic sheet and the soft swish of his plastic pants, told him he needed to get some sleep then, hopefully, by the morning, he’d feel a lot better and all this would be behind him. There was no doubt about it he looked like a well-bundled-up big baby. The press studs on Lizzie’s old leotard were stretched by the bulk underneath; whilst the new pink plastic pants could clearly be seen straining over his bulging disposable. After the last few years of almost constant arguing and disobedience from her son, he now looked as she remembered him with huge tearful and soulful eyes - a toddler; safe, secure and compliant. On top of that Sandra thought he looked so damned cute. Recent events had taken their toll on Billy and, although it was relatively early he was exhausted so, as soon as mother kissed him goodnight, he was already nodding. Lizzie’s leotard inexplicably holding everything in and making the entire outfit feel snug and welcoming. Lizzie looked on and couldn’t help thinking that Billy made a sweet baby. Everything about the way he appeared now was just as she’d envisioned except she wanted to make sure he was always wearing a nappy. However, now he was so well protected she doubted her squeezy bottle would be able to do much damage. She didn’t know what was actually going on inside Billy’s body and that really she had no reason to worry. With his temperature rising her brother would be getting even more attention from those aggressive little microbes who’d be doing the work for her. # As mum left his room, his ever loving sister pushed a teddy bear into his arms and, always ready for such an occasion, produced an old dummy for him to suck on. She pushed the rubber teat gently against his lips but even dozing Billy turned his head away. She kept it hovering for a moment and pushed again. Again he turned away as if refusing to take part in Lizzie’s plan. However, on the third attempt his lips parted and she was able to push with slightly more force. It slipped all the way in and she was surprised to see him suckle on it straight away. Billy was not a part of this piece of theatre. His body was so fatigued he had no idea what was going on and though he sucked intently on the dummy, it was without any conscious effort on his part. The transformation from noisy brother to little baby was complete, and in such a short time. Lizzie wasn’t aware of the help his swim in the canal had benefited her plan. All she knew was that, with all this pissing and shitting, this was a fantastic opportunity to keep him in nappies for as long as possible over the holidays. Lizzie smiled at her brother and left the room, returning moments later with the little camera her father had bought her before he was sent to jail; she was sure all Billy’s friends would love to see how he looked now. As Billy slept she took a comprehensive series of images for future use, whilst planning a few other surprises. She liked the idea of having a record of her brother’s demise into babyhood and also, if needed, something she could blackmail him with later. The images of him sucking on his dummy and cuddling the teddy really brought out his complete regression into babyhood and would be a constant reminder of when he was eleven and still shit and pissed in a nappy. Once the final close up shot of his shiny, expanded plastic pants was taken she went to the storage cupboard that housed her old clothes. Sandra rarely threw anything out knowing that old clothes could be re-circulated to her other children. However, though eventually Dee-Dee would benefit from some of Lizzie’s things (even more so now money was in short supply), they weren’t something Billy could make use of, well, not until now. Lizzie had already pressed into service her dance leotard (although she was sure her matching tutu wouldn’t be allowed), there were plenty of other items she thought might just serve a purpose and, if handled correctly, would get the support of her mother. She dug out a few pieces that would have been tight on her but would swamp Billy. Well, not exactly swamp him because, once in his nappy, they would just about fit… in a revealing way. After just a few minutes search she had several items that might fit the bill and then went to speak to her mother about ‘…what to do about Billy’. # He was back at the canal in the exact same place they’d swum earlier. He was standing near the run off from the fields, where the cows and sheep lazily grazed and, despite there being no rain for several weeks, a steady, murky stream bubbled down and into the canal. In the sun it was a wonderful part of the landscape and, unusually, it was very quiet, the occasional ‘moo’ or ‘baa’ breaking the peace. The hordes that normally use the towpath for a bit of leisurely exercise weren’t around. Feeling the need to pee he released his dick from the confines of his underpants. The arc of piss glittered in the sun as it splashed into the water causing little disturbing ripples on the otherwise placid surface. His bladder was full, and the fountain looked so picturesque sparkling both silver and gold he didn’t want to stop. The warmth of the sun was… Billy woke up from his very pleasurable dream suddenly aware he was peeing once again. His hands instinctively dove under the bedclothes to be greeted by the soft silky sensation of his fingers sliding over the slippery vinyl material. Underneath he could feel the bulk of his nappy and the growing glow as his pee spread around inside the confines of his protection. His willy was giving him another, not very pleasant, sensation. There was an ache, a most uncomfortable, unfathomable pain as his bladder emptied. However, once complete, a feeling of relief, both physical and mental, ran through his body, glad he hadn’t soaked the bed. Despite his resentment of the huge padding it had saved him again and he couldn’t help but think that was down to Lizzie and his mum being so considerate for a change. For the first time in as long as he could remember, they were being nice to him and confusingly, he was both indignant and grateful. It was difficult taking the high ground when you’d just wet the bed. It was even harder to do so when you’d just crapped in your nappy. Notwithstanding that slight predicament, it had been better to fill a nappy than crap his pants in public… so on the whole, he was more grateful than angry. He noticed the teddy bear slightly hidden under the covers and wondered how that had gotten there and then another flash of guilt passed through him as he realised he might have been cuddling it all night. However, he put it down to his mum no doubt thinking he needed something to snuggle against in the night. What he didn’t see was the dummy he’d been nursing on for some of the time because that had fallen out and was obscured by a pillow. All this went through his head in seconds as his mother came in to check if he was well, the full nappy told her it was anything but so set about releasing him from the mess and start the morning clean-up campaign. # With another soaked morning nappy Sandra realised there might be something else other than food poisoning going on to cause Billy such symptoms and decided a visit to the doctor was in order. Before she saw to her sad and soaked son she put in a call and was granted an early consultation at the surgery. “Okay Billy, we’re going to get the doctor to check you out… let’s hope it’s nothing more than a bit of food poisoning eh?” She pulled off the damp protection and cleaned him up before reaching for another nappy. “But mum, can’t I wear my normal…” She looked at him as if making a decision. “I don’t want the doctor to see me in a nappy. Please mum can’t I…” He pleaded. “Look Billy, yesterday you were a clever boy thinking you might have an accident and taking the right precautions, which ended up being needed.” She raised her eyebrows and smiled. “We don’t want another disaster, especially in the car… or in the doctor’s office now do we?” Billy frowned. “You’ve come up with a system that keeps you secure so… it seems silly changing something that works so well.” She showered him in baby powder. “After all, it was your idea wasn’t it?” She didn’t doubt him, merely acknowledged his involvement in the nappy regime. Billy was put on the spot. If he said it was all Lizzie’s idea that he should take credit for it then they’d both be in trouble for lying and perhaps worse, it might lead to him being punished severely for the lie and for crapping his pants. He meekly let his mother get on with changing him and for her to continue to think he was ‘a clever boy’. With her son wrapped safely in his thick protection and being able to arrange an early visit she was at a loss as to what else to cover him with for the journey. As Lizzie had explained, most of his shorts and jeans no longer fit over the huge nappy needed to keep him leak-proof so they would have to improvise. At first, looking concerned but helpful, Lizzie suggested the leotard he’d worn for bed but Sandra didn’t like that idea much. She saw her fed-up son looking gloomy and downcast wearing only a t-shirt and thick shiny pink protection and thought, for his own self-esteem, he needed something to disguise it. Lizzie was way ahead of her mother on this and produced some of her own shorts she’d worn as a kid. They were quite girly, being pinks and other pastel shades and quite loose, though short. “These are loose mum; they should hide the main bulk.” She offered them to her mother as a possible solution who, seeing no alternative slipped the pair of soft pink cotton training shorts up and over the excessive padding. Sandra wondered if Billy would rebel but kept up a sympathetic and encouraging commentary as she did so, telling him that it was either these or he’d have to see the doctor wearing only the nappy… and she knew he wouldn’t want that. The soft cotton of the shorts hardly hid the huge bulge out front. In fact, the waistband scooped down low over his crotch revealing the top of his heavy nappy and plastic pants. Even pulling them up didn’t help because they still couldn’t be hidden and in doing so revealed the elastic of the plastic pants gripping tightly around his thighs. Sandra could sense a possible outburst growing as this went on but, as none of his clothes fit, and with a look that said “Sorry we have no option” she had him reluctantly in them reasonably quickly. He looked most displeased but Lizzie, knowing her mother was in a hurry to get to the doctor’s office, quickly pulled a matching sweatshirt over Billy’s head before he had chance to say anything else. “Don’t worry Billy; this will hide the top of your nappy.” He missed the way she emphasised the word your but now, dressed in little pink shorts and top, he looked like a miserable little pre-schooler. The sweatshirt had a few sequins that glittered in the sun but as Sandra had to get off to work later, she had no time for quarrels or arguments, she’d been lucky to get an early appointment. The look of absolute dejection as she led him grudgingly by the hand to the car had Lizzie watching and giggling silently. His waddle was quite unmistakeable as was the flash of silky pink plastic pant that glistened just below the shorts leg with each step. “Don’t worry Billy, no one will notice,” she lied. “You look fine.” As the car drove off Dee-Dee whispered to her sister that she was glad she’d decided not to wear her sparkly top that morning, she would have hated to clash with her brother. They both roared with laughter. # In fact, Dee-Dee had woken up wet. Lizzie didn’t want her to feel independent too soon so had gently eased the squeezy bottle under sister’s nightie just before retiring for the night herself and doused her night time nappy. She wanted her little sister onside but only under her terms. So, when she woke up soggy, Lizzie had been in to change her and put her in a fresh nappy and a pair of cute ruffled blue plastic pants that still fit her from when she was a toddler. She had found a little blue cotton skirt that just about fitted over the bulge, though still fairly revealing, and then settled on a blue and white Princess Elsa top. To Lizzie she was looking the very image of a toddler. Dee-Dee may have been six but with the fat protection under her skimpy skirt, she looked more like an incontinent two year-old... all of which the youngster was completely unaware having been so easily distracted by what her brother was wearing. Somehow, and so quickly, Lizzie had them both wearing babyish clothing and each had that lovely waddle that identifies them as a nappy wearer. She had looked on as her two siblings started their day dressed so similarly and was pleased with herself. They did look just like a couple of infants ready for a day at kindergarten. # Doctor Marion Harper, surprised to see Billy wearing such a huge nappy under girly clothes, examined him before sending him off with the nurse to take some blood, urine and check various statistics. Whilst he was in another room she talked over his symptoms with Sandra and mentioned that she’d seen a couple of other boys around Billy’s age suffering in a similar fashion and it turned out that they’d been swimming in the canal. Sandra was sure that this was not the case with Billy. She had stressed, over many years, the dangers that lurk in still water. However, the doctor said that the symptoms were identical, and the horrendous diarrhoea and developing fever were caused by a rather nasty bug often found in animal faeces. Nonetheless, Dr Harper was sure that an aggressive course of antibiotics would have it cleared in a few days, although, for the time being at least, a nappy was a very good precaution. “He has to wear some of his sister’s old clothes because he doesn’t fit into any of his own with that nappy in the way.” Sandra said by way of explanation as to why her son was dressed how he was. Dr Harper nodded and filled out a prescription. She’d noticed that the other patients who’d been to see her were also wearing thick protection. Apparently, the bouts of diarrhoea had been extensive and each boy had, like Billy, looked embarrassed to have to wear such obvious thick protection even if it was necessary. Eleven year-old boys may think they know everything and are too grown up to be told what to wear but, when mum or dad lay down the law, they quickly realise, if unenthusiastically, it’s better to do as they are told. The doctor didn’t mention any names so Sandra decided to call some of Billy’s friend’s parents later to see if their boys were in similar messy circumstances. As he returned from the nurse Sandra looked at her son but the sympathy disappeared now she thought he’d disobeyed her. If it turned out to be true, that he had been in the canal, his little bottom would be smarting for a week. However, for the moment at least she wasn’t letting on she knew anything and, once heading back home, told him of the doctor’s opinion. “The doctor thinks you must have drunk something or been somewhere contaminated.” She was offering him a chance to confess, which, although wouldn’t help him would at least show he was contrite about what had happened. “Do you remember going anywhere… where that might have been the case?” She queried. A nervous shiver ran down his spine and a painful spurt of pee was eagerly mopped up by his thirsty protection. However, Billy wasn’t clever enough to know when the game was up so simply said he had no idea. “You’ve not been offered a bottle by anyone, or been swimming… or… anything have you?” She gently enquired. “No mum, erm, um, did the doctor say it can be cured?” He rubbed his aching tummy. “Yes, of course darling,” she smiled sweetly hiding her real intent, “It’s an infection that’s all… I’ll get what’s needed on my way home from work tonight and hopefully… my little sweetheart will be right as rain in a few days and ready to enjoy the holidays… like he should be doing.” Billy smiled back; he hadn’t detected the tone of scepticism in her voice, happy to think that soon he’d be out of nappies and out playing with his mates, in his own clothes, and away from all the girly stuff. He hadn’t enjoyed the nurse drawing blood and taking measurements, or the patronising way she spoke to him, as if he was a two year-old. Nor did he like Dr Harper poking and prodding him down below. In his opinion she wasn’t very gentle and was trying to embarrass him because he wore a nappy. None of which was the case but Billy, being paranoid about most things, was on his guard against any female involvement in his life. However, his body produced a tremor and a painful splash of pee joined the thick folds of the soaker pads in his nappy. # Sandra looked down at the bulging protection hardly hidden by the pink shorts and glittery top and decided that it was a look that she thought suited a little liar… and one Billy might have to get used to. Wearing his sister’s clothes and a nappy certainly made him fit in better around the house and had stopped quite a bit of his natural aggression, though how much this was down to his clothing or illness she wasn’t sure. Thoughts were running around in both their minds, though Billy’s was on the freedom he hoped would soon be his. “Some mates from school want to go exploring and camping and…” “Let’s wait and see,” Sandra interrupted. “We can talk about what’s going to happen during the holiday once we have you…” “Okay,” it was Billy’s turn to interrupt. He didn’t want any of his plans squashed before he’d had chance to discuss them properly. He felt that his mum was a load more sympathetic towards him since these nasty accidents, so maybe, just maybe, she’ll let him do more stuff to compensate? Sandra was keeping her thoughts to herself but, if it turned out he had been swimming in the canal, the boy was going to be spanked and then grounded for the entire length of the summer break. She hated being lied to. She’d put up with it from her husband and look where that had got them? No, no, NO! Action now might just stop him from ending up in jail like his father. She definitely wasn’t going to put up with her son thinking he could lie with impunity and there’d be no repercussions. However, she needed to check first so kept her counsel. “Well love, once I get your prescription hopefully you should soon be on the road to recovery but the doctor said it might take a little while so,” she said gently prodding his bulge of his shorts in a friendly manner. “I’m afraid the nappies stay for the time being. I hope you don’t mind… it’s just to be safe.” His mother seemed very positive and even a bit good-humoured so he saw no reason to make waves and besides, they had come in pretty useful so far. He remembered the pain he felt just seconds before his bottom exploded and realised that without his protection things would have been terrible, again. “No mum…. I want to be safe.” “Good boy. We’ll get you something more… erm… appropriate when this is all over.” “Great.” “How’s your tummy now…” Billy was feeling parched and a bit listless but tried to put on a brave face. “Okay I s’pose, just a little thirsty.” “Oh yes, the doctor said you might be dehydrated and to give you plenty of liquid. I think there’s a bottle of water in my bag if you can reach it.” Billy stretched over into the back seat of the car and saw the bottle on top of her shopping. “It won’t be very cold I’m afraid but should do. In fact, as the doctor said to rehydrate as quickly as possible, can you finish it all?” She smiled at her son as he twisted off the cap and began to down it. Even when he stopped to take a breath Sandra encouraged him to drink it all as quickly as he could. Billy didn’t know why she was rushing him but, as she was in such a good mood, did as instructed. # Sandra dropped her son back at home because she’d to get off to work but had a quick word with Elizabeth before departing. “Keep giving him fluids, soup and water should be fine. Oh, it’s such a nice day for them both to be out in the garden but no visitors, those naughty tummy bugs might be catching and we don’t want that to happen to others?” “Is he contagious then?” Lizzie asked a little concerned. “Oh you’ll be alright, and so will Dee-Dee, you’ve been around him long enough,” she lied. “So no problem for you two just, you know, anyone new. Oh, and keep him well-padded as a precaution… we don’t want any further ‘stinky’ accidents in the house.” Sandra was determined that until she got to the bottom of all this, his bottom would be shrouded in thick absorbent protection. With that she waved her goodbyes and went to work. It had already been quite an interesting day and she planned to finish the deal she was working on at the company and then deal with her deceitful son. Out in the back garden Lizzie had pegged out all the washing as a further reminder to both her siblings of the amount of work they created. She loved the fact that Dee-Dee’s little plastic pants hung next to Billy’s much larger ones. In fact, the two, thick, towel-cum-nappies were also hanging out on the line, which she hoped the neighbours would see fluttering together with the different sized fabric squares and rightly conclude that some of Sandra’s kids were wetting the bed. To make the point she insisted that both of them played outside in the open air. Any neighbour interested would be able to see them both running about in their glossy protection. Billy had been keen to take off his sparkly top and pink shorts but, because of mum’s instructions, Lizzie wouldn’t let him out of his bulging nappy. She had Billy the boy in glossy pink plastic pants, whilst little Dee-Dee was happily playing and showing off her slick blue frilly pair. She loved the sight and wished she could do more. However, she was happy to bide her time and now she knew that Billy’s infection was causing him to pee and shit himself, she was happy to retire her squeezy bottle… for the time being at least. Billy didn’t like to have to wear shiny pink pants but Lizzie was adamant that he needed to keep them on. “But I need to go to the toilet… I… erm… um… need a pee.” “Well I’m not fastening and unfastening the damn thing every time you need to pee or poop so, use it, that’s what it’s there for… and I’ll change you when it’s full.” “But I don’t want to walk around in a wet nappy.” Billy was whining. “Look,” Lizzie confronted him. “You may look like a big baby but you don’t have to sound like one. Mum and the doctor say it’s for your own good to keep you in a protection so… if you need to go… GO IN THAT.” She pointed to his huge silky bulge. He’d dispensed with the pink shorts as soon as he was able, and the other styles that Lizzie had left out weren’t much better, they were all a bit girly. He’d tried to squeeze into some his own jeans and shorts but to no avail, he had to own up that nothing other than his t-shirts fit. He wasn’t too worried, in his current condition he couldn’t go anywhere with any sense of enthusiasm but his mother had promised something better for when he was well, so decided he’d just have to make do. As he stood there wearing only a t-shirt and his cushioned protection he wavered, wanting desperately to argue but thought better of it. “Argue anymore and I will remove it, give you a damn good hiding and you can wander around bare-assed.” She looked sternly at him to see if her words had made an impact. When riled she wasn’t one to hold back as her brother could testify. In the past several students at school had also been on the receiving end of Elizabeth’s quick temper and flailing fists. He knew she could and would do as threatened. She was a tyrant and, as he remembered the last time she beat him up, a shock ran through his body releasing another spurt of painful pee. For the moment just the warning was enough to intimidate him so, when she walked away indicating that the discussion had ended he was relieved she hadn’t followed through. As a result of this confrontation the stream continued so his nappy was busy soaking up an absolute flood. # Lizzie was well aware of the impression she made on people, it was one she had developed and shaped since she was a little girl and fell prey to a larger girl’s vindictive ways. It all came to a head when her daddy told her never to let herself be bullied because ‘Bullies were really just cowards’. She never forgot the look on that girl’s face when she attacked her in class, in front of everyone, and made her cry. The large girl was slapped and her hair pulled until she said she was sorry. The girl was no longer feared but Lizzie was. In that brief but terrifying few seconds Elizabeth Southall of the fourth grade knew what it was liked to feel the power of being feared; it was something that would stay with her from that moment on. By some she was given a wide berth, to others, they liked her vicious streak and gravitated to her domineering way. In truth there were more enemies than friends but that never worried Lizzie. Those who were on her team had stayed with her since that very early display of audacity. # Billy’s bladder had been painfully full so had no option but to empty it into his voracious nappy. The bottle of water he’d drunk earlier soon found itself transformed into a warm, pale yellow fluid that swamped the extra booster pads which, surprisingly for the eleven year-old, left him feeling relatively dry. It actually wasn’t that bad. He’d wet without knowing about it a few times and that had horrified him. When he’d done it out of desperation the day before, he felt relief even if the outcome was awful but now he was meant to do it, well, it was pretty cool. However, there was still a burning sensation when he did so and that wasn’t nice, even if the warm pee flooding the fabric was. The texture of his nappy changed as well. It got bigger and the weight made it more difficult to amble around. Thankfully as he was out of the pink shorts and wore a t-shirt with his protection, in the morning heat… it wasn’t so bad. His waddle had been very obvious but now his movements were more measured. He didn’t rush anywhere now he was no longer desperate to pee, so, wearing only a thin t-shirt and nappy, was able to enjoy the sunshine that filled their back garden. # As it was such a lovely warm day, and as per her mother’s instructions, both Billy and Dee-Dee were ordered to play outside, she hated her kids glued to the TV screen or their ancient games consul. Lizzie told them that, owing to Billy’s ‘problems’, friends would not be allowed for the next few days so they had to entertain themselves. As Billy was always being told to play with one or both his sisters he was used to the games they liked and, as there was no alternative, he set about trying to lead the fun in the garden. Now that his mother had promised that he’d soon be well Billy was feeling pretty good about himself, even if the infection was still sending angry reminders to his bladder and bowel. His large pink glistening pants shone in the summer sun and though he had to slowly shuffle around, he seemed to be dealing with the lack of real clothing pretty well. With Dee-Dee also being bound in thick protection he didn’t feel so awkward, her blue frilly plastic pants also gleamed in the sun so on that score they were equal. They both crouched down and huddled over their toys as they decided what game to play. ‘Princess and her Castle’ didn’t really appeal to Billy and she wasn’t interested in re-running the ‘Grand Prix’ with his racing cars, so they settled on a hybrid version of both. Lizzie watched and smiled as they lay on their tummy’s, the thick, smooth, glassy mounds of their protection indicating that both were still only toddlers and not yet potty trained. Patronisingly, she thought of them as her own little babies out in the ‘big wide world’ for the first time. From the start she’d hoped that once in nappies both of them would be far easier to manage and so far, that’s how it appeared. They were playing together and not arguing, so that was a plus, and they looked like kids at kindergarten scampering around enjoying the freedom just to have fun. Billy played for an hour or so not thinking about his current sartorial situation. His thick wet nappy no longer worried him as he got lost in his game. He even found his annoying little sister to be quite entertaining as they beeped, brummed and screeched his cars around the palace with the ‘Princess’ encouraging each driver. Lizzie was being all grown up and motherly, she kept bringing drinks, checked nappies and offered praise. The two occupied kids didn’t seem to notice that the compliments were what you’d give toddlers who’d just learned to do something. She seemed to approve of the game they were playing and offered a few suggestions to make it more ‘exciting’ and which were actually fun. For the first time in many years they were all getting on incredibly well, even stroppy Billy appeared to be enjoying his new position and at ease in his nappy. This was just the beginning of the school holiday and despite its awkward start he’d settled down remarkably quickly to this new regime… probably because he thought it would all soon be over. # As the afternoon progressed and Billy thought about it more, he was just too comfortable with the easy way his mother and Lizzie had dealt with his problem. In fact, they had been very supportive and, as he still hadn’t linked his canal swim with his current situation, began to wonder if there was a conspiracy going on between them. Suddenly it all made sense. It was if he’d had a sudden revelation and everything became clear. It was the females who were once again scheming to keep him down. The realisation of this fact stirred up real anger. He also bet that woman doctor was involved in some way as well to make him feel that there was actually something wrong when there wasn’t. No wonder they were being nice, they’d reduced him to a nappy-wearing baby. His fury and self-determination grew as he understood that had been the plan all along. To stop him being independent and, and, and, erm, um… he wasn’t sure what or why… but he knew he’d been tricked somehow. “Bastards… the lot of them”. He looked down at his glistening plastic pants and the heavy bulk underneath and was desperate to get rid, even if he had recently pissed in them. He saw the cunning way they had got him to wear such vast protection and he wasn’t going to play along any longer. He thought he was ill but now, well, it was obvious they were behind his accidents all the time. He reasoned that it was they who were giving him stuff to cause all this problems. Because, he concluded, it was a strange coincidence that he should start wetting at the beginning of the school holidays. He didn’t know how or why but his fucking family were out to make a fool of him… and he wasn’t going to put up with it any longer. #### Part 5 Billy’s mind was overflowing with anger at the way he’d been conned into wearing a nappy. It was they who’d spiked his food to make him shit himself; it was they who’d somehow made him wet the bed. None of this was his fault. He would be wary of anything they said or did from now on but the first thing to do was get out of this stupid nappy. He rushed upstairs to his room and, out of sight of Lizzie, yanked off his plastic pants, ripping the vinyl in the process, and dragged down the weighty nappy. The soaker pad was yellow and bloated with pee but he left it on the floor and headed to the bathroom to sponge down. Even though his tummy cramped and his penis burned at times, he was just too angry to care. A quick damp scrub and he headed back to his room, found a pair of briefs and slipped them on. He pulled off his t-shirt and put his favourite football shirt on, then grabbed a pair of jeans and quickly zipped himself in. He immediately felt better. Socks and trainers were next before he stood in front of his mirror and looked back at an eleven year-old boy and not some supersized toddler. His throat was still parched and, as he made his way back to the bathroom, past the discarded ripped vinyl pants and urine soaked nappy to get a glass of water, his confidence grew now such clothing was no longer part of his life. As he quenched his thirst he surveyed the scene and it was with a sense of achievement that this act of independence, which he knew was a long time in coming, had been needed to reaffirm his self-worth. Billy was satisfied that the thick, restrictive padding was where it should be, in a messy pile on the floor and not gripping his groin. He’d let himself be coerced into believing they were necessary but all they did was make him into a big baby. No more would he allow his mum, sister or anyone to make him wear a nappy… they wouldn’t con him again, of that he was sure. His stomach was rumbling in all the excitement but he was glad to be out of his stupid baby clothes. He was a boy on a mission and that was to be as far away from his suffocating family as possible. All he had to do to be free was to stride out the front door and go and see his friends. There was no intention of returning to play with his silly sister or being subjected to Lizzie’s authority. The exhilaration he felt now he was wearing his own clothes, the stuff he liked, and not subject to Lizzie’s or his mother’s views, made him feel strangely elated. A shiver of freedom rippled through his body but, there was another pang in his stomach that he tried to avoid as a brief spurt of hot pee shot into his clean underpants. It was typical of Billy to not yet to piece together what the doctor had said with his current situation… and that situation was his own fault. He had swum in the canal but still the connection of these strange and painful tremors evaded him. He was now full of blame, and that was squarely centred on his ‘scheming’ family. Just as he made for the front door Lizzie caught him and demanded to know what he was doing. “I’ve had enough of all this fucking baby stuff. I’m off out to be with my friends and…” “Don’t you swear at me you little fucker…” Lizzie was in her no messing motherly attitude “Mum says you have to stay here, and the doctor says…” “Yeah, yeah, yeah, blah, blah, blah… I don’t bloody care.” Foul language poured from Billy’s lips as he continued to complain loudly about being treated as a baby, how it was all their fault and how he wasn’t going to put up with it anymore… he was off to meet up with his mates. Although Lizzie was livid at this act of defiance she was also surprised at how he knew she had something to do with him wetting himself. However, she had other things to worry about at that moment so tried to reason with him saying it was the doctor’s instruction to… Not believing a word of her explanation, Billy stormed out the door and made his way quickly down the path. Now convinced she needed to act, Lizzie was about to give him a crack and drag him back indoors but he turned on her and yelled. “Touch me again and when I’m bigger I’ll beat the fucking crap out of YOU.” The malice in his voice as he delivered this line made Lizzie do a double-take. It was the first time he’d threatened her in such an aggressive way and it took her by surprise. Noticing her hesitation he turned and speeded up his exit. He was right in his opinion, girls ruined everything. They were controlling and had all ganged up on him… he needed to be with his mates. Having had a quick think about his threat, Lizzie dismissed it and was about to haul him back in when he suddenly grabbed his stomach, doubled over and fell to the ground. Less than five seconds later he was violently filling the seat of his jeans with another messy purge. The agony was brief but intense as Billy eliminated a disgusting, smelly concoction of waste from his body. Without the thick protection he’d been wearing the mess went everywhere. He rolled around in his own filth trying to make the pain go away, which it did in a matter of moments but by then the damage was done. Billy lay exhausted in a disgusting soggy mass unable to comprehend what had just happened. His sisters looked on in surprise but didn’t rush to help. Lizzie had no idea why he was crapping his pants the way he was but thought her shitty little brother deserved all he got. Dee-Dee was just shocked. Shocked at the way her brother was oozing stuff through his clothes. Unconsciously, but gratefully, she hugged her own protection hoping the same thing wouldn’t happen to her. However, their mother had told them all to stay at home because of what the doctor had ordered and to keep Billy in protection. He’d defied them, thinking he could do what he liked, so, as far as Lizzie was concerned, had received his comeuppance. Lizzie looked down at the pained expression on Billy’s face. “The doctor says you’re still infected and need to wear protection… what on earth got into you, you, you - STUPID FUCK HEAD?” # Billy was just a weeping messy heap hugging his stomach and not daring to budge. He was afraid that any further movement would cause him to explode in his pants as another searing pain shot along the length of his penis and cramp grabbed at his stinky bottom. Another stream of burning pee burst through his already sodden jeans, whilst a stabbing pain forced him to release yet move foul liquid into the steaming stinky seat of his pants. For those brief spasms he could do nothing to contain anything that wanted out of his body although, once they passed, he wailed in mortified shame for help. Lizzie had a good mind to leave him there but realised she’d been put in charge and this would reflect badly when her mother got home. Reluctantly, she helped her brother up and guided him to the back garden. Billy just wanted to get cleaned up and go to bed, the misery of his situation taking away all his strength and ability to offer resistance. However, Lizzie didn’t want to trail the shitty boy through the house so took him into the back garden where she helped him strip out of his messy garments. His clothes were a foul-smelling disgrace; from underwear to jeans, to shirt, to socks, everything was just a filthy brown soaked mass. Once naked, she hosed him down with freezing cold water, the shock of which sent him into hyperventilation as he struggled to catch his breath. Billy put up a slight, though ignored, protest as Lizzie instructed him to turn around so she could flush all the crap from his body. She asked Dee-Dee who was standing looking stunned at her naked brother (who was shivering under the constant flow of cold water), to go and get a couple of old towels from the pile they kept in reserve for ‘accidents’. “Not the good towels,” Lizzie emphasised. “The old ones we use to mop stuff up with.” This was the same pile she’d fashioned his towel-cum-nappies from which he’d had to wear for his trip into town. She could see her brother shivering but every crevice had to be sluiced out to make sure no crap remained. She decided to hose his clothes down later and leave them to soak overnight in a light bleach solution… but they were in quite an awful state and might not be redeemable. Billy’s teeth were chattering and he was also shivering with trepidation. The fact that he’d removed his protection, shit so violently and messed his clothes was sure to bring down untold wrath from his mother. Dee-Dee returned with a bundle of grainy old rags which Lizzie then used to dry off her still blubbering brother. “Mum’s going to go ballistic.” She shared her thoughts with an already fearful Billy. Billy knew this wasn’t an understatement. If indeed all this had been planned to keep him in a nappy he couldn’t see how it was going to go well when she got home. However, at that moment he was just trying to keep warm as his older sister frenziedly rubbed him dry. Once satisfied he was clean she guided him back up to his room where she deliberately made sure he knew his place. “I don’t want any argument or you’ll get a crack… understand?” Billy was already panicked so didn’t need her to threaten violence, he nodded weakly. She picked up the cast-off, well used nappy and ripped plastic pants and looked at Billy with contempt. “You’re a bloody stupid arsehole,” she shook the rejected items under his nose. “You’ve ruined a new pair of pants and look… look… LOOK,” she was angry, “your nappy’s soaked and you still thought you didn’t need one.” There was more than anger in her voice as she berated him for being a selfish, self-centred big baby who shit and pissed himself and still thought he was a big boy. Her remarks were meant to hit home and hit home they certainly did. Her malicious words scored a bull’s eye… he was left feeling useless and inconsequential. A few minutes earlier he thought he was in control. Now, as Lizzie cleaned him up, he realised that any power he had was expelled from his body along with the crap. He was a very contrite eleven year-old who was about to be returned, with some degree of force and resignation, to a nappy wearing eleven year-old toddler. Lizzie was in a ‘no messing’ mode as she applied a very thick layer of anti-rash cream. She piled it around his genitals and over his bottom, resisting the temptation to give his hide the promised spanking. She knew her mother would probably want first go at that particular target once she knew what had happened. Gathering a huge disposable, she added a couple of heavy soaker pads and fastened him in. Billy had remained passive all the way through the operation; he really was very scared of both his sister and the thought of what his mum would do when she got home. He’d literally and figuratively made a mess of everything. The resentment of being put back into a nappy was not augmented by his usual belligerence just the simple knowledge that there was no alternative and he’d played his hand very badly. He was so shattered and frightened his body shook as he unprotestingly let Lizzie pull the tapes tightly together, the thickness of the padding forcing his legs wide apart. He wanted to accuse her. Blame her and mum for all that was happening to him but, now in the state he was in, it seemed such a stupid allegation. Worried that he may well shit himself again Lizzie pulled up a pair of clear vinyl pants, but not content with only that thin layer of water-proofing, she then covered them with a pair of much thicker rubber ones she’d shop-lifted. These were roomier but gripped much tighter, their dull creamy colour offering no access, or exit, at all. “There… just to be on the safe side… an extra level of protection.” The new, firmer fortification clutched his waist and legs in a vice-like grip. Any thought of protest died on his lips as he was ordered to stay in bed, she didn’t want to bother about him whilst she had to attend to his filthy clothes and keep an eye on Dee-Dee. Thoroughly rebuked, a weak and forlorn looking Billy settled under a thin sheet, the room was warm from the day’s heat and sun was still coming in through the window. Wearing only this ‘extra level of protection’, his clean, thick, secure padding offered some comfort from his recent experience. Although his teeth were still chattering he wasn’t sure if this was from the cold water or his fever had gotten worse. He was just too weak to think properly. Eventually, totally exhausted, he slipped into a deep but troubled sleep. # Sandra Southall had a terrific morning. The negotiations at work had gone very well and resulted in the customer signing a rather lucrative contract for the firm. Not only had she brought in this particular client but by getting him to invest in the future of the company, it guaranteed the workforce’s livelihood for several years to come. Sandra received a huge cash bonus and promotion, all of which meant that the Southall family would no longer be worrying about their finances. That was the good news. Unfortunately, this also meant the workload increased, although now Sandra would at least be getting a reasonable salary for her efforts, it still meant she wasn’t able to give her kids the time and effort needed. However, once those negotiations were complete and everything was signed off, yet before she launched herself with gusto into her new position, she decided it was time to give her attention over to her son - her lying, rule-breaking little boy. For quite a while now Billy had been disruptive. Even before his father had been sent to prison he’d been a little sod to everyone. Sandra was exasperated by his lack of respect to her and his often nasty asides to his younger sister. Although he seemed scared of Elizabeth, he still tried to undermine her at every opportunity and be difficult over every request. It was time to fix that attitude… permanently. She didn’t want to appear vindictive but also didn’t want her son thinking he could do what he liked. As she was more and more convinced Billy was on the wrong trajectory she was determined he was not going to turn out like his father - he had to know there would be consequences for every decision made or action taken. It may be a terrible load to put on an eleven year-old but she’d been letting things slide for ages, now she had to do something. After what the doctor had said about food poisoning not being the cause of his problem she realised that he’d been lying to her. This was nothing new but for some reason it incensed her more on this occasion. She’d hoped that with her being busy and their father in prison her children would somehow have pulled together and helped one and other, in fact the opposite happened. She resented the fact her son showed little or no respect and seemed to delight in making difficulties. He’d never quite grasped that they were in dire straits, or that life would be nicer if they all got along. No, he was a belligerent, narcissistic young man who needed firm discipline before things got totally unmanageable. It seemed that the occasional spanking had made little difference to his attitude. Often, after such an event, he’d be on his best behaviour but all too soon he reverted to form. It had been a short-term solution, and not a very good one, but now her work life had changed for the better, it was time to do the same for her wayward son. She worried she may have left this action too late. However, his illness had made a change. Lizzie said that once he’d been put in nappies there was a remarkable lack of his usual insolence. She’d noticed herself that the usual defiance had subsided and the only thing that had changed was the fact he was now wearing a nappy. Sandra wondered if through those babying items his rehabilitation could start. # A few calls to the parents of his friends and the full picture quickly emerged. Only three boys were suffering from a similar ‘tummy bug’ as Billy and she knew these three to be his closest schoolmates. Having said that, under cross-examination his fellow pupils were content to let it be known it was all Billy’s fault because he was the one whose idea it was to go swimming. She was a bit peeved (although maintained her politeness) that none of the other parents had thought to contact her but, since her husband had been incarcerated, Sandra had been kept at arms-length by almost everyone - sympathy or understanding not being part of this town’s motto. However, she was thankful they were grudgingly able to fill her in but got the sense that because it was ‘Billy’s fault’ their kid was ill; by extension they blamed her as well. Somehow she needed to change this opinion. The bug that the boys caught had made them all very sick and as a result were all laid up in bed at home. The spontaneous ‘accidents’ had been so messy and spectacular that similar precautions were taken, namely, the wearing of thick absorbent protection. So, like Billy, the three boys were wrapped in thick nappies which their parents hoped would at least contain the messy impact of their bacterial infestation. As it turned out, like Sandra, each parent had been fully sympathetic until the truth became known and it seemed that they were all in agreement, now their boy had to wear a nappy for ‘safety’ reasons… that was how they’d stay for a while at least. Although the antibiotics the doctor prescribed would clear up their problem, constant full protection was deemed a suitable chastisement for their reckless disregard of the rules for visiting the canal. It was unexpected that all the parents were of the same mind for punishing their errant child. Now she knew the full account of why Billy was shitting himself, to say Sandra was irritated with him was an understatement. Although it was sad that the poor boy was going through such a messy and distressing business, it was self-inflicted. The fact that he hadn’t admitted his involvement when he had the opportunity rankled more and more and it was in this frame of mind she set about coming up with a plan to teach him a lesson. A lesson he wouldn’t forget and know that any future disobedience would have serious penalties. Before she went home from work that afternoon Sandra picked up the doctor’s prescription and did a little more, specialist shopping. Now, with the knowledge of cash in her bank account, she didn’t have to worry too much about money anymore, she was able to indulge her plan and Billy would be the main beneficiary from her retail excursion. # In just the few hours since his anal disaster and being put to bed, a fever had taken hold of Billy as he writhed in semiconscious pain. Had anyone been in his bedroom as he tossed and turned they would have heard the crinkle and rustling of his protection squeaking in protest as he thrashed around. His bladder shooting agonising pain along his throbbing cock as spurt after spurt of burning pee filled the thick padding. He may have been asleep but his body and brain were actively making sure they left him broken and irrational. Strange dreams grabbed hold and sent him twisting in fear, pain and suffering. His teeth chattered together yet his temperature soared. Sweat poured from him and soaked his bed as much as if he’d pissed himself, which he continued to do. Had anyone been watching they would have seen a boy possessed, whilst his slinky cushioned protection inflated and stretched under a seemingly never ending stream of piss. Billy was no longer in the real world as those nasty little microbes invaded and occupied every aspect of his body and he passed into a state of near delirium. # Sandra arrived home full of intent on teaching her son a lesson he wouldn’t forget. In her head she had planned that once his illness was under control and he was getting back to his confident self she would hit him with his punishment. However, that wasn’t to be because she was met at the door by a very anxious Lizzie who said she’d phoned for the doctor. Whilst waiting for Dr Harper Lizzie brought her mother up to speed on the events of the day. She told her about the swearing, the disregard of her instructions, the bolshie attitude and the final disastrous outcome in Billy’s pants and how she’d checked in on him and his temperature was soaring. Sandra took all this in as she tried to comfort her incapacitated son. He did look in a bad way but oddly enough, the protection that Lizzie had wrapped him in was working fine and made Billy appear more like a wriggling toddler than a possessed sixth grader. The doctor arrived and after administering a powerful antibiotic gave the family instructions on how best to treat Billy. She was convinced that the virus would be kept under control with regular doses and that he’d soon be back to his usual self. She smiled as if offering a happy solution to his recovery but both Sandra and Lizzie felt a shiver run down their spines at the suggestion of his ‘normality’. Meanwhile, the doctor suggested that hygiene was paramount and that if possible he should be kept in disposables and, when they were full… she didn’t need to finish off the sentence they were aware of what needed to be done and nodded their agreement. They needed to keep themselves clean to prevent the spread. She gave them a list of things to do and a further list of how the treatment should continue from there on. Not too much food in one go, a little and often rather than all at once. Keep him hydrated but avoid dairy products like milk. After the diarrhoea he would need to rebalance his electrolyte intake, so further instruction was given there. Sandra confirmed that, after she’d checked with other parents, Billy had been swimming in the canal so the doctor had been correct in her diagnosis. She explained that for the next few days the family were going to be busy looking after Billy as he would be very weak and vulnerable to other infections. She emphasised again how important hygiene was until he was back to his robust self. The doctor left to a calm and sleeping Billy. Meanwhile, the family had a little talk about what to do next. Dee-Dee insisted that she should keep wearing her nappy as the incidents of the day had scared her into thinking that the same thing could happen to her and she’d mess her pants. Lizzie and her mother agreed that it seemed, for the time being at least, a reasonable precaution, which was a relief to the youngest. Once plans had been made on how to look after Billy Sandra was able to share her good news about the promotion. She also had gifts for them; Dee-Dee got a doll she’d been hoping for whilst Lizzie got her own mobile phone - Billy would have to wait for his. As the antibiotics began to fight those invading microbes, an unconscious Billy peed out more fluid filling his already saturated nappy. It was Lizzie who suggested that the best way to feed him whilst in that state was to use a baby’s bottle full of the electrolyte and let him suckle on it. Sandra wasn’t convinced but when Lizzie went ahead and tried it anyway, she had to admit to its success, Billy was automatically feeding so this became the way to get fluids into him. # Once the initial fuss had calmed down Elizabeth shook her head. “So all this is self-inflicted?” A murmur of repressed anger escaped her lips, which was echoed by Sandra. “Yes, the bloody fool brought this entire thing on himself and the fact that he didn’t admit to it… well...” She was a little lost for words. For Lizzie it was a strange feeling. She’d wanted her annoying brother in nappies but wanted to be the cause of his embarrassment and not because he was just too stupid and had caused it himself. She felt cheated. A hundred things were going through her mind at that moment but what she didn’t know was that similar thoughts were passing through her mother’s. Later that night, as she was getting ready for bed, Dee-Dee was really insistent she should have similar thick protection like Billy. Although her mother said it wasn’t necessary the fear of something happening to her, and the sobbing that occurred until she was suitably encased, made for a strange new ritual. After witnessing the disaster in Billy’s pants she was simply terrified of messing her bed. Quite simply the baby of the family was terrified of having any more accidents. Meanwhile, Billy had been changed into a thicker night time disposable and given a bottle containing the elements the doctor had advised for a full recovery, which he drowsily suckled on. Sandra was surprised to see how easily he took to it but his thirst needed quenching and as this was what was on offer, his automatic responses took over. Once he’d emptied the bottle Lizzie took it away but replaced it with a dummy, which again she was pleased to see he sucked on with the ease he had the baby’s bottle. Sandra came and stood next to her daughter looking down on the patient. Now he was resting she saw just how grown up her daughter was in making sure his bedding was straightened, he was tidy and how she checked to make sure he was still dry. The dummy seemed to settle him after the bottle so thought it must have been one of the many good ideas her eldest had. They looked at each other and smiled. Once more, when like this, a little angel emerged to take the place of Billy, it was only when he was awake and being a boy that he became such a pain. His temperature was falling even if he was still more than a little out of it but there was obvious improvement. So, once these two operations were complete, getting the two youngest to bed, the two ‘women’ chatted about the last few days. Sandra was still buzzing about the way her day at work had gone and now she had been promoted, hopefully things would get better… financially at least. Elizabeth was full of praise for her clever and hardworking mother and the mutual support was enmeshed with each appreciating the work of the other. Sandra didn’t like having to rely on Lizzie to the extent she did but her daughter never once complained, and for that, Sandra was eternally thankful. Billy’s act of stupidity became the focus of their discussion and when Sandra explained that he wasn’t alone, his three best friends were also in the same position, they cheerily deliberated over what punishment would be suitable for the lot of them. In amongst the easy banter a few ideas were voiced that Sandra had actually already considered, and when she found Lizzie in agreement smiled a knowing smile, whilst letting them develop in their own right. In this cheerful, gossipy, confidential atmosphere it was agreed that there was something about Billy wearing a nappy that made him seem less troublesome, arrogant and more… normal. His bluster disappeared and that vulnerability his thick protection projected made his seem more a ‘loving’ little brother/son than the irritating brat he’d turned in to. Enjoying this ‘girls only’ situation, and giggling like teenagers (even though only one of them was) they tried to outdo each other in one outrageous suggestion after another. “No, no, no…” Lizzie laughingly interrupted one of her mother’s proposals, “he should be made to wear the nappy permanently. After all, he got himself into it… snicker … so... chuckle … it should be his reward until next school term.” Of course this had been her plan since Billy’s first bedwetting incident and it had been going well so far, she really didn’t want it to stop. What was even better now Dee-Dee was a little paranoid about having a messy accident, it would be easier to keep them both under wraps, so to speak. “We should take away all his clothes,” Lizzie continued jauntily as she made her proposal, “that way he couldn’t wear what he wanted… only… giggle… what he was given.” Sandra confided that one of the things she’d given serious thought to was that her darling son would indeed be confined to nappies for some time, even to the extent she’d already bought further nappies and a set of thick plastic pants, which she intended would be his daywear. This was to be the present he received to mark his mother’s promotion… and an indication of how annoyed she was with him and this entire fiasco. Now both were of a similar mind Lizzie was happy to go along and encourage her mother in her plan, even insisting that not only did he deserve it but as a punishment for the fear he’d induced in Dee-Dee. Lizzie was adamant that he had to pay for his reckless behaviour and all the trouble and upset he’d caused so added, as if to emphasise the point, she would include his mates in the punishment as well. Sandra didn’t realise that Lizzie’s enthusiasm for such a punishment for Billy was already something she had envisioned on her own. However, the thought of his mates joining him in such a punishment got her mind thinking in a slightly different way and wondered if the other parents might share her ‘initiatives’. ##### Part 6 For the next few days everything was centred on Billy’s recovery. Although he didn’t need hospitalisation he was very weak and unable to do much. Both Sandra and Lizzie saw to nappy changes during the slow but eventual positive reaction to Doctor Harper’s treatment. The baby’s bottle full of health- building nutrients was definitely the best way to get him to drink even if he wasn’t that aware of the process. However, Lizzie maintained substituting the dummy for the empty bottle because, in his slightly comatose state, she just loved to see him sucking away hoping to get more liquid. He really did look like a big vulnerable baby. Whilst he was out of his senses and needed all the help his family could offer, bit by bit Lizzie began to see her brother in a slightly different light. Things began to get muddled - one minute pleased she was causing him some embarrassment (even if he was not really aware of it) the next she felt for him. Somewhere in all this ‘childish’ madness, her hormones, like Billy’s interfering microbes, began to take effect. Her thoughts were shifting and saw it as her duty, not as a piece of ‘holiday mischief’. She began to view it as her obligation to make sure he was kept safe, and to her, the best way to do that was keep him in nappies. It was perhaps strange the way these two approaches had become one. The revelation came about when Lizzie was discussing something with her mother, who was piling praise for all the effort she’d put into Billy. Because of work, Sandra wasn’t there all the time and although she made sure she was home as much as possible, it was her eldest daughter who maintained a careful watch. “I think I’d like to work with children and babies when I’m older.” She seemed embarrassed and shy about revealing such thoughts even to her mother. “Perhaps in a kindergarten or… some such…” For the first time in a very long time Elizabeth had the doubts of a fourteen year-old. Would her mum think she was able to do anything like that? “Well dear, you’d be ideal,” Sandra responded, “the amount of care you’ve put into both Dee-Dee and Billy… especially Billy… has been exceptional. Good for you.” “Well, it has been hard work.” Lizzie was chuffed with such a positive reaction and saw herself a little more ‘caring’ and a little less ‘evil’ big sister. “And you my love have not shirked any responsibility at all.” Lizzie shrugged so her mother continued. “Lizzie, you have been wonderful… even changing messy nappies hasn’t put you off… and that was something your father never got to grips with. You’ve proven time and time again just how thoughtful, quick thinking, aware…” Sandra was running out of the correct words as she stroked her daughter’s hair and hugged her tightly. “You would be fantastic in such a job.” # Although Billy still filled his nappy at least the dramatic effects of diarrhoea had been brought under some control. Unfortunately, the parasites clung on longer in his bladder but eventually his bright orange pee changed colour to something less vivid. Despite this, he was still experiencing uncontrolled spurts and woke up damp most mornings. However, no matter how much better he got his mother insisted he should stay in bed as he was very weak and they didn’t want to ‘agitate’ those destructive bacteria and make their ‘sweet little boy’ have a relapse. Although he wasn’t aware, this was both a part of his recovery and punishment. Between them they made Billy feel cared for but very much incapable of looking after himself. This was very much a part of Sandra’s plan and Lizzie still had moments when she just loved to see her brother squirm as he was changed. This was something his mother wouldn’t let him do on his own; she simply didn’t trust him to be thorough enough. Despite his grumblings he was confined to bed wearing thick protection. They insisted, under doctor’s orders, he continued to use a nappy for “health and hygiene reasons”. Billy didn’t quite catch on to the extent they were babying him but, because of his disastrous flaunting of doctor’s orders last time, reluctantly did as he was told. As he grew stronger and more able to do things Sandra changed the bottle for a sippy cup (an old one of Dee-Dee’s from when she was a toddler). He was still a little shaky so explained to him that it was all about keeping him ‘safe, secure and on the mend’. Lizzie was sad to see this bit of the process come to an end because she’d had the idea to tell him that the doctor insisted he had to drink from the baby’s bottle so he didn’t “…take too much liquid in all in one go”. Of course that was total fabrication but it gave Lizzie the opportunity to keep Billy a baby for that bit longer. This was the strange contradiction Lizzie was dealing with; one moment loving and understanding, the next out to maximise any chance to humiliate Billy. At night she slipped into his room to make sure he had a dummy to suck on and a teddy bear to hug. Now it wasn’t so much to embarrass him (although there was probably still an element of that) she thought he’d simply sleep better knowing he had those with him, like any baby would. She loved feeding her brother when he’d been incapable and had insisted, even as he recovered, that it was best if she managed the spoon, all he had to do was concentrate on getting the food down. To begin with it made perfect sense but Lizzie, like the bottle, insisted carrying on the work until she had no alternative but let her charge feed himself. He was allowed out of bed for short periods but only to either play by himself or with Dee-Dee. Although wetting got more controlled his juvenile protection was still his day and night time dress code; he wasn’t given the opportunity to question that decision… it was for ‘medical reasons’. # Whilst ill Billy hadn’t noticed just how his room had filled up with nappies, vinyl pants, powders, lotions, creams, bottles, wipes and a host of other things. They were all he saw clothes wise and the only things with which he had any link during his recovery. Lizzie brought down from the attic a few toys he’d had when younger and left them around for him to play with. He seemed happy for the distraction and, like when he was six, had an entire play area set up in his bedroom, which occupied his time. There was absolutely no doubt as far as Sandra or Elizabeth was concerned, Billy was far more compliant and less argumentative when wearing a nappy. That nasty streak seemed to be hidden once he was wrapped in thick padding and the household was able to function in an atmosphere of peace and relative calm. Any time he voiced even the slightest protest they vigorously reminded him of his shitty experience and how because of that, his filthy clothes had to be thrown away. Because of that he’d stay as he was until they were certain there would be no repeat performance. However, that particular experience had so un-nerved Billy that, as if to prove the point, even the mere mention of it had him peeing into his nappy. Meanwhile, Sandra had already cleared out all of Billy’s clothes; he wasn’t going to be given another opportunity of running off. She even parcelled up the few items of her husband’s and stored them in a secret place. The entire house now was only baby and female clothing. Billy would only be allowed to wear what was decided for him and for the moment that was just his vast array of infantile defence. Of course he was less than thrilled at not being able to change out of all the protection and was getting fed up of them reminding him of his explosive accident. Again, he simply did not see it as his fault; he’d been ill and it happened… that was all there was to it. However, unknown to him, Sandra had decided he was going to be kept in a nappy for quite some time to come. Her idea was simple - if he’d been so unconcerned about bringing such an occurrence down on himself, she was happy to impose it as a penance for his flagrant disregard to her instructions. Dee-Dee had also thrown herself into looking after her brother. She wasn’t as reliant on her own protection as she had been but often, if Billy had a very wet or messy night, out of fear insisted on being reunited with it all. There were days when her mother said she didn’t need them and she’d happily wear knickers but then for some reason kick off and want to be put back. Dee-Dee’s tantrums at this time were short-lived simply because Lizzie was more than happy to take charge and swaddle her little sister. Dee-Dee actually liked these moments of intimacy with her sister and would smile and giggle all the way through the process and offer a huge hug of thanks once the process was complete. Meanwhile, together with help from her sister, Lizzie had got more of her old clothing ready for their baby brother. When the time came and he was well enough to go outside or on outings, he would be restricted to very few items and none he would probably like. Lizzie had gathered items she hoped would match something similar to what Dee-Dee might wear. Her plan was to have them looking as much alike as possible and it would be to Billy’s detriment that he ended up looking more like his sister. # The summer was in full swing, the weather was wonderful but to begin with Sandra kept him confined to his room, “just to be sure”. Of course Lizzie was left in charge when Sandra went to work and Billy had been given a stern warning about his attitude and conduct towards her. The threat of a spanking from mum didn’t particularly scare him but the idea that Lizzie might administer it certain did. When he was out of bed he’d be allowed to play whilst wearing just his thick fabric nappy providing it was tucked in and fitted snugly. To see him scooting around on his hands and knees, playing with his toys, his pure white terry cotton bottom the focus of attention was definitely a visual bonus to the rest of the family. He wasn’t happy with this arrangement, he hated the big pink pins that bound everything to him so tightly but neither his mother nor Lizzie gave him any other option. They were in charge of keeping him clean and tidy and that involved this kind of safeguard. He still wasn’t fully fit but the occasionally leak would occur and wet the nappy so he found it difficult to argue about not wearing one. Although recovering, Billy was made to feel that any control he thought he might have over his bodily functions was illusionary. To emphasise this they pointed to the fact that he always woke up soaking wet. Whilst not always needed, this was of course helped to some degree by Lizzie’s magic squeezy bottle. She didn’t have to use it but sometimes her fourteen year-old devilment returned and she couldn’t help herself. Both his mother and sister were adamant that any independence Billy felt would be led by what he was dressed in and not what he wanted to wear. If he was unconcerned to go out wearing just a nappy then everyone was happy for him to do so. They knew that he would be disinclined to let anyone know he was wearing such heavy protection and were convinced that any rebellion would be governed by that. Once he began to feel better and the disastrous shits had all but dried up Billy was begging for the new clothes promised by his mother before the fever took him. He couldn’t wait to get back into his own clothes and meet up with his mates. He’d known nothing about the similar problems they’d had and when he’d asked if anyone had called was told that for ‘safeties sake’ they were not allowed to visit just yet. His ‘reassuring’ mum would add that no doubt, in good time, they’d soon be back together. # Sandra had been tired of the constant arguments in her own household and reached out to the parents of the other three boys to see if they had similar problems, and what, if any, solutions they’d come up with. Once they got talking it was amazing just how fed up the boy’s mothers were with their continual disruptive shenanigans. Naughty boys who’d disregarded the many lectures about the dangers of swimming in the canal, which they had so thoughtlessly ignored, were now paying for such negligence. So, the one thing they had in common were sons with infections and who, as a result were, at eleven years old, back to wearing nappies. She wasn’t alone in being at her wit’s end, though somewhat surprised that, to varying degrees, they were all more than a little disgruntled with their own son’s unruly, self-centred attitude. They’d all had enough. It would seem that Mitch, Dave and Aaron had the same self-obsessed little traits as Billy. Like him they were disrespectful and off-hand with the rest of their families, whilst not achieving the grades expected at school. Frustration and despondency seemed to be a recurring theme each mother voiced but wondered if it was just their age and ‘boys being boys’? In some way Sandra was pleased that it wasn’t just Billy who was a pain and once all four mother’s got talking they had a great deal in common. The mums even complained about the long summer break being the most taxing event in the school year and dreaded having to find babysitters for their kids when they had to go out to work. With that particular recurring theme a new, more adventurous plan began to formulate in Sandra’s head; a plan that would bring all the boys together where they could be ‘chastened’ for their lying and lack of respect. As an incentive for the parents, there’d be a babysitter already in place to look after them. Sandra had never been on the ‘most popular parent’ list, mostly due to her husband’s criminality, but she was to find that this new idea would find a resonance with her fellow, undervalued and fraught parents. However, first she had to make sure Billy was disciplined for lying. She was determined to make sure he’d regret his disregard for her rules. The fact that he had been pissing and shitting himself was not enough, although it was the spur to what was to happen to him. # Having spoken to the other parents, having been lied to, always living on the edge with Billy’s tantrums and actions, Sandra had had enough. Although she’d said she didn’t want to be vindictive she was more than a little determined that her son would know the consequences of his many ‘crimes’. She wondered if the other parents were in the same mood for a complete clamp down on their son’s behaviour but had decided that Billy for one was not going to forget this summer. Having brought all this on himself Billy was soon to find his options very limited and the determination of his mother more focused on him than he would have liked. His nappy, even once cured of those determined little microbes, was going to become the centre of his world. Sandra had to agree with Lizzie that, since her two youngest had been wearing nappies behaviour had certainly improved between them. Like Lizzie, she also agreed that there was obviously more control as to what they could do and where they could go. She’d noticed that Billy was reluctant to go outside at all if he was only wearing protection. His fear that “someone might see” kept him indoors and confined to bed, watching TV or playing in his room. Dee-Dee was different from Billy; she wanted to wear protection because she was scared of anything untoward happening like it had him. She’d grown to rely on the ample padding to give her peace of mind when she went to bed and also, if she had to go out, she felt less anxious if she was wearing her slippery protection. She didn’t mind the padding between her legs, although her nappy wasn’t quite as thick as her brother’s, she had gotten used to it fairly quickly. Lizzie had helped with this early on by constantly telling her little sister that she not only looked good in her protection but added a little lie by saying it helped to keep Billy’s infection at bay. She then made it into a little game by letting Dee-Dee decide what protection she preferred to wear. Her choice was always greeted with enthusiasm, which made wearing it more of her own personal fashion statement, which her older sister encouraged. However, Sandra had determined that, as far as Billy was concerned, he would be wearing nappies for the full length of the summer break. Now the infection had all but departed, perhaps it was time he knew why. This was going to be an amalgamation of punishments, not only for his little swim in the canal, but every other obnoxious thing he’d done over the years. The boy was definitely going to learn about consequences. # Billy still had no idea his mother knew about the illicit swim, he also didn’t know his friends were in the same boat, so it came as a surprise when Sandra called him into the front room for a talk. It was a very warm day and he’d been outside playing in the back garden wearing only his nappy. However, he’d gone a couple of days without wetting so assumed she was about to take him shopping for new clothes. He’d been moaning and moody about the length of time the ‘doctor’ had insisted he stay in a nappy and thought it was about time he was released from such childish garb. Of course the doctor had no say in the length of time he should be in a nappy that had been down to his mother. However, when she had asked him to come through for a chat he thought this seemed very positive. Although only his mother was there Lizzie was hanging around out of sight but able to see and hear what was about to transpire. First his mother unpinned his wet nappy and let it fall to the floor, then she looked at him in a serious way. “Billy,” she said with some authority, “I’m afraid the time has come to, well, er, um…” she reasserted herself. “Let you know what I know.” The smile Billy had on his face disappeared and he fidgeted uncertainly in his nakedness. “You have given this family, and as it turns out, others, a great deal of unpleasantness that was completely unnecessary.” Billy cast his eyes to the floor wondering what exactly it was he’d done. He tried thinking about his illness and couldn’t see how that affected anyone else. Typically, he didn’t see all the extra work everyone had to do to keep him spotless. Once his mother explained she knew about the canal swim he suddenly caught on. “But, er, it was Aaron’s idea, not mine… he… er… um…” She shook her head. “No Billy, it was entirely your fault. The illness, the nappies, the unbelievable inconvenience that seems to follow you around… everything has been your fault. I’ve spoken to your friend’s parents and… even your friends are united in their agreement, it was all… your… fault.” She accentuated the last three words as she took hold of his shoulders so he had to look her in the eyes. “You refuse to take responsibility for anything and think that everyone else is here for your benefit… well that stops now.” She grabbed him by the arm and thrust him over her lap. Sandra hadn’t realised just how angry she’d become. Her fury grew with each misdemeanour she recalled. The boy had, over the last few years, put them through hell… now was the time a penance needed to be extracted… and acted upon to make sure of no repeat offenses. # He’d been spanked before and knew his mother was quite powerful when determined. However, the protest he screamed was very quickly subdued by the thwack of a wooden spoon making sudden contact with his upturned bottom. She’d never used anything other than her hand before and this hurt more than he could ever remember. He wriggled and squirmed in protest, screaming abuse through his tears as he attempted to get away. This didn’t help his case as the rain of blows from the implement that was reddening his bum cheeks grew more intense. “You have brought this on yourself. The lies, the arguments, the complete lack of regard or respect for anyone…” Sandra was exasperated and angry with what she had to do to get the message home but was determined that by the time she’d finished, Billy would be a completely different and well-mannered boy. Dee-Dee joined Lizzie in her hiding place as her brother’s bottom turned varying shades of red. “Why is Billy being spanked?” Dee-Dee asked Lizzie inquisitively. “For lying to mummy… and… for all the rotten things he has said or done to us.” “Oh!” “He’s been a very naughty boy and made things difficult for a lot of people so…. mummy thinks he needs to know just what a bad boy he’s been… and as a result… that there are consequences to all that.” Lizzie was worried that all this info was going over Dee-Dee’s head but she just rubbed her silky protection and continued to watch her brother’s punishment. # Billy was still relatively weak from his illness and had no real power to escape his mother’s grip. The speed and control with which she administered his punishment, together with the reasons why his bottom was going to be so red, was lost as he bawled out his pain and rage. His cussing didn’t last long as he soon found that it didn’t stop the painful whacks. Never had his bottom received such intense action or such a degree of agony. Even the pain caused by the microbes had been awful but not as excruciating as this. Soon his screams of anger were whimpers of apology and tears but still his mother didn’t let up. The aggressive little horror was supplanted by a feeble and very sorry weeping figure, drained of any resistance and pleading for his mother to stop and he’d agree anything to make it stop. Eventually she did and stood him up facing her. The defiant attitude he often sported after being punished in the past was no longer there, just a picture of defeat. His bottom stung but he was not allowed to rub the pain away, she held his arms down by his side as she informed him of what was going to happen next. “As you acted like a baby in defying me regarding the canal, from now until you return to school, and as a reminder of those stupid actions, you will be wearing a nappy constantly. Whether you use it or not is up to you but both night and day you will be subject to thick protection so you don’t forget there are consequences to your irresponsible actions. Do you understand?” Billy’s mind was desperately trying to find a way of making the pain in his bottom go away but his mother prevented this so he had to listen. “You flaunted my rules and as a result you ended up wearing a nappy… well… now you will wear one all the time until I’m sure you understand why you are being punished this way.” “But, but, buuuttt… aww, mum, mummy,” he was trying for some sympathy but it wasn’t working. “It’s no good objecting or begging for a change of mind… it will not happen unless I see a real change in your attitude.” She got her second wind. “Whilst you’ve had to wear protection your arrogance and self-importance has diminished and you’ve been a far nicer person to be around… and that’s despite your messy and smelly accidents… I want to see that ‘nice’ person all the time.” Reluctantly and through tearful, defeated glazed eyes he nodded understanding of his mother’s words. “If at any time… without my permission I see you not wearing what I’ve determined, you will not only be grounded… you will be wearing a nappy to senior school come the new term.” She waited to see if this further threat had any reaction but it was hard to see through the tears that were still falling. His naked body was trembling and his bottom was smarting badly so it was difficult being brave under such circumstances. The tears fell but the idea of going to senior school wearing a nappy terrified him. In his head he was full of anger and defiance but in actuality, after Sandra had catalogued his long list of offenses, he wasn’t so sure of himself. “You’ve been a very naughty boy, and because of that, your friends have suffered and as a result of that, so have their families… you should be grateful that I’m not letting them discipline you as well.” “However,” she emphasised the word, “in this house Lizzie has full power over you. She has been the one who has looked after you through your illness… so, should she see you breaking any of the rules I’ve set down, she has my authority to spank you there and then… and that means in public if she has to.” # Billy couldn’t believe what he was hearing because the excruciating pain took away some of his understanding. All he could do was blub his responses. It was an extremely crestfallen eleven year-old who was now worried what his mates would say if he had to wear a nappy all the time. Now she had his undivided attention Sandra made sure her words were understood and obeyed. “We will no longer put up with any of your tantrums. You’re going to be kept on very tight reins and, if you start acting up at any time, you’ll end up actually wearing reins out in public.” This was an empty threat as Sandra had no intention of doing such a thing but she needed to make sure Billy was acquiescent and know that things could and would get worse if he protested. “Your attitude is going to change for the better so we are going to start from scratch. “I will not put up with a single act of defiance… because if there is I will spank you… and if you think what you have just received was bad, I will not hesitate in making you wish that was so…” Billy just shook where he stood. His mother had never been like this with him before and it scared him. He was even more upset by what she said next. “If you think this is just a threat you are sadly mistaken. All you clothes have been given away and you only get to wear what I… or Lizzie decide. “From this moment on this is what you will wear during the day.” She produced the ‘present’ she’d been keeping since her promotion, which was a bundle of thick, soft terry nappies and several pairs of very robust, see-thru plastic pants. “Your nappy will always be on view whilst you are at home so we can see if and when you need changing… and… while the weather is nice, that’s all you’ll wear. When we go out, depending on your behaviour, you’ll be allowed some shorts. However, that will be at my discretion and not an automatic right.” She indicated he should lie down on the pile she’d just spread out on the ground. The need to show some kind of rebellion was strong but his sore bottom, and the promise of worse, was a great incentive for him to comply. The wooden spoon that had done so much damage to his bare but now very red cheeks was still within his mother’s reach. Arguing was no longer an option, he’d had that spanked out of him so was a very sorry and contrite boy, and if he didn’t want to get paddled every time he opened his mouth, obedience and total submission to the new rules seemed the only option. Sandra slathered on the anti-rash cream and sprinkled the powder before emphasising once more that nappies were to be his main clothing from now on. “You have proved to be irresponsible and completely untrustworthy so will have no say or input into what you wear or when or how you’ll be changed.” The extra padding that she’d slipped into the new nappy squares felt soft and bulky as she pulled it all together and pinned him in. Even though he’d been wearing something similar for the last week or so she knew he hoped that would all come to an end and be free of this babyish garb. She also knew that he wouldn’t like what was happening to him but reiterated that any kind of rebellion would be met with a severe spanking. Strangely for Billy, the soft, thick embrace of his padding and the amount of cream and powder he’d been smothered in was actually bringing relief to his battered bottom. Despite this being a punishment Sandra was very careful that his new nappy fitted him well. They were top of the range (after all they were a present to commemorate her promotion), very thick and fluffy and would be a relief to the cheap stuff he’d been wearing. As everything was scrupulously fitted Sandra continued with her rules that every action and reaction on his part would be subject to further punishment should it warrant it so therefore… it would be up to him just how much his bottom was smacked. All the way through these ‘rules’ and ‘regulations’ she made sure that his nappy was pulled up tight and fastened correctly into place. His new see-thru plastic pants were firmer than the soft vinyl ones he’d been wearing; even the hated pink ones were more pliable than these, which held him and his padding firmly in place. They had popper studs down each side so could be released that way as well as simply be pulled down. The entire thing felt like a piece of heavy plastic armour and his well-padded terry nappy and the two large pink holding pins were easily visible to anyone looking on. “There,” Sandra said with some satisfaction, “everything all nicely enclosed and… safe.” Billy was still shaking with grief, bewilderment and suffering. His legs shook as she helped him to his feet and the only positive thing that helped was the soft padding easing the pain from his well beaten bottom. ### Part 7 The recent success at work and the elation at a job brilliantly executed had had an effect on Sandra. She felt confident and secure in her judgement, after all, hadn’t what she’d accomplished benefited the entire company? Many people owed their future prospects to her skilful negotiating. Sandra was on top of the world and now, with this ‘personal’ project underway, there was a feeling of euphoria and that anything could be accomplished if she set her mind to it. Sandra found her work colleagues giving her a great deal more respect and admiration. Another thing that happened was… she wasn’t always tired and grumpy. In fact, she was now unexpectedly rejuvenated, enjoying and coping with everything being sent her way. Nothing was too much trouble or problem insurmountable. It was if she’d been born again. Before this success, her work life and family life had all been a bit of a burden but now, now she relished the opportunity to fix a problem or find a solution and saw she was able to do both with relative ease. With work sorted she was certain that her home ‘dilemma’ was also soon to be another thing successfully accomplished. The thing was… her success had literally gone to her head. That victory had set off a number of neurons, chemicals and synapses acting in a way they never had before. # Sandra was pleased with the way her boy looked in his new outfit. Strangely a sudden rush of empathy ran through her nervous system as she was reminded of Billy as a toddler. It was a time when he was just so cute and lovable and hadn’t yet got into the habit of lying or causing trouble. Now she saw him dressed as he was she sighed… that was a time Sandra recognised she missed terribly. Even though he’d been wearing a nappy now for quite number of days, this weeping, chastised little boy in his shiny plastic pants resonated in her head. Perhaps, all the piss, shit and dirty nappies had led to this moment of realisation and that was why she was so keen to continue with things as they were. Whether she was truly out to humiliate him or not, the truth was, she loved the way he was now and didn’t want things to change. His big eyes, glassy from all his crying and his sad face made her forget the terror he’d become and remember the sweet innocent he used to be. Then he’d loved his nappy, even after he was potty trained he still held a terry nappy square as a sort of security blanket and silently sucked on its corners when worried. With her boy now nervous and completely subjugated such memories flooded her hippocampus. She hugged him again hoping to make him feel less unsure about what he was wearing. “You look so... so cute Billy… I… I…” She hugged him again and kissed the top of his head, whilst patting his plastic protection in what she hoped was a reassuring way. She wanted him to accept the situation and the punishment for what he’d done and realise this was all for his own good. Not too long ago she would have thought up this idea of punishing Billy and immediately rejected it as stupid and far too labour intensive. However, now, it seemed like the best thing she’d ever planned; the detail, the inclusion, the eventual outcome all appeared to be the obvious solution to her problems. She was in no doubt whatsoever she was on the right track. There was a possible bonus, and that was getting back onto some kind of social level from which she’d been shunned for far too long. She thought she deserved to be accepted and, whilst getting Billy back as a functioning part of the family, had come up with this unusual ‘failsafe’ plan to make that happen. Billy had been quite the little angel when a baby. He looked cute and was just so loving and sweet natured. Where ever or whenever it went wrong… that moment had to be found and rectified so, in amongst everything else that was going on in her head, the re-set button on Billy had to be pressed. Starting over seemed a brilliant place to begin and, as he was already wearing a nappy, thought the time and opportunity were there for the taking. To begin with he would feel it was a continuation of the protection from his illness but later, when realising this was all he was being allowed to wear, she knew he’d start to lash out. However, she was going to be firm but sympathetic, loving but controlling and see how long he could go without throwing a tantrum. Although, if or when he did, it would quickly be dealt with. No outburst was going to be tolerated, nor would damage to any of his protection, both grounds for a severe paddling. Sandra made the rules and consequences abundantly clear. She made the threat one he could not ignore. She hugged Billy in a tight, loving embrace and whispered it was now up to him, his behaviour would be under close scrutiny and she hoped that the wooden spoon (or any other unspecified implement) wouldn’t need to be used again. A shiver of fear ran through Billy’s already wracked body. He also didn’t want to feel the sting of that particular implement of punishment again and the idea there was something even worse really worried him. The throbbing of his well chastised bottom was calming a little thanks to the heavy cushioning he now wore but the sudden thought of it happening again brought an unexpected flush as he wet his new soft pristine nappy for the first time. # The family appeared to be going through some kind of transition. The microbes destroying Billy’s organs. Hormones messing with Lizzie’s mind. Neurons giving Sandra a strange euphoria. Only Dee-Dee was unaffected by all this internal mayhem but was in no position to influence any of it. She looked on and occasionally hid behind her own protection when it all seemed to be getting a bit much. She’d happily been involved in planning and conspiring with mummy and Lizzie against Billy but now saw she was being asked to be grown up as Billy once again became the centre of attention. Lizzie had told her that now Billy was the baby of the family, he needed looking after, he needed to wear protection and (Lizzie had said this in a conspiratorial whisper), he needed his two big sisters to help him come to terms with it all. Dee-Dee wasn’t sure if she could do all this; after all, she quite liked her own protection now and didn’t want her moments with Lizzie to end if Billy was going to be getting all the attention… again. Meanwhile, Billy was finding it difficult to believe his mother would do something like this. He knew it was well within the bounds of something Lizzie would dream up, but his mother? It wasn’t fair. Why was she being so cruel? He thought she was being so understanding about his illness, but it was all a charade, he felt deceived. He was very much in denial by simply not seeing his massive contribution to this whole scenario. He looked down at the huge padding between his legs, the shiny plastic armour that gripped everything so tight – why would his mother think this was a good idea? He should be out with his mates climbing trees, camping, swimming in the… well, perhaps not swimming... He shouldn’t be treated as a baby and the tantrum that was building changed to yet another deluge of sobbing… the warmth of his pee spreading in his protection making him think twice about the potency of his objection. # Sandra was content. She’d set out the rules so he could be in no doubt what the consequences were if he disobeyed her and, as she was very busy with her much more prestigious job, knew she would have to rely on Elizabeth to keep him to them. Should he want to go out with his mates, he could do as long as he was wearing his infantile fortification and had someone suitable supervising. Other clothing was optional but only at her or Lizzie’s discretion. He wouldn’t be allowed to just smooch around the house or avoid his friends. Family outings and people visiting would not be an excuse for him to hide away; he’d have to face society dressed in his thick protection. How he handled it would be up to him but should he make a scene, Sandra made it very clear that she would punish him in public and wouldn’t spare his embarrassment. She also made it clear that for his ‘benefit’ she’d bought very strong and heavy see-thru plastic pants. She’d made it abundantly obvious that he would be only wearing such clothing at home… and in public should he not behave. They were tough and quite watertight but revealed the nappy underneath. However, should an accident occur, it could be noticed immediately and the appropriate action undertaken. They creaked and noisily crackled when worn but were an absolute deterrent to any accidental faecal or urine accidents; the pharmacist had been very resolute about the quality of the product. Billy was going to have a constant reminder, through the sound and feel of his protection, just why he was being punished in this way. To be in a position to be able to hide even part of this childish stuffing he would have to earn the right to shorts by being on his best behaviour… all the time. He’d simply brought the entire thing down on himself. It was entirely his own fault. Yes, Sandra was quite content in how she was dealing with her wayward son. # He would be wearing a nappy and soft vinyl pants to sleep in but his daywear would consist of this new formal protection. He wasn’t going to like it one bit but Sandra planned on getting him used to the idea by being consistent. Any dissention had to be nipped in the bud fairly early on so, after a few attempts she came up with a surprising schedule. A schedule that would make sure he was up and dressed appropriately before she went to work. No more lie-ins and more especially, so she could make sure he started the day as she intended he finish it, well protected and under firm supervision. His life would take on a very strict regime and for which she produced a timetable. 7.00. Get up, toilet and morning change. 7.15. Breakfast 7.30 - 10.00. Play 10.00 - 10.15. Juice and snacks 10.15 - Noon. Play Noon - 12.30. Lunch 12.30 - 1.30. Nap time 1.30 – 1.45. Change 1.45 – 4.30. Play 4.30. Evening Meal 5.00 - 6.30. TV and family time 6.30 – 7.00. Bath time 7.00 Bedtime and story (the story was added by Lizzie when she saw the timetable, she thought all babies liked a story at the end of the day). All nappy changes would have to be supervised; Billy could not be trusted to do it properly himself. The only thing he was allowed to do for himself was play and often even that would be directed by Lizzie. Sandra had to agree with Lizzie that it was all very juvenile but, as she was at pains to point out to her ‘thoughtful’ daughter, his action had led to him having to wear nappies, so it was only right he should just carry on wearing them. To Sandra this just seemed to make perfect sense. He’d brought it on himself and, as they’d found out over the past few days, his behaviour was better when wearing protection. They had better control over his life the less control they allowed Billy to have even if that meant removing everything that pointed to him being an eleven year-old boy. This of course was music to Lizzie’s ears. # Now she had her boy and her system in place Sandra asked the other three boy’s parents for their input. She’d heard them complaining about their lack of respect, and although each boy was slowly recovering the overall result had been a huge strain on the families concerned. Sandra offered a possible respite should any of the other parents feel they needed it; a readymade babysitter and a chance to be temporarily free from their obnoxious, untrustworthy sons. When Sandra had discussed her thoughts with Lizzie her daughter couldn’t believe what was being asked, it was all so perfect. If there was a word for when all ideas and plans mesh together to produce a satisfying result, Lizzie didn’t know it but what her mother was suggesting must be it. Lizzie had come up with the idea of making her brother and little sister babies for the holiday simply because the idea amused her. She liked the idea they’d be totally reliant on her but now, well, sheesh, what a cosmic turn up. Providence had proved - be careful what you wish for… but in this case… well! She was quite astounded that her mother wanted to enforce almost exactly the regime she had planned on executing for her own entertainment, and was going to be well paid for taking on such responsibility. Not only that, but she would possibly be in charge of Billy’s little posse of friends who were in need of the same discipline. She was overwhelmed by the hugeness of the project but already her mind was working on ways to make it fun… for her at least. The thought of having total control over four eleven year-old boys was mind blowing. As her motherly thoughts towards Billy gave way to the more embarrassing aspects of his and his friend’s new situation, she giggled to herself, full of the fun she anticipated. Although Sandra would be home some of the time, she made it clear to the other parents that during the day Elizabeth would be supervising Billy and that, for a reasonable fee, had agreed to act as babysitter to anyone else who cared to join him. Thus relieving them of the worry of finding their own babysitter and having the confidence in the abilities of her daughter (she’d waxed lyrically about how fantastic Lizzie had been during the worse aspects of Billy’s illness), they all seemed impressed. # Dave, Mitch and Aaron had all, at one time or another, complained in general about Billy’s big sister. They moaned about how pushy she was and how often she’d show Billy up by making him do things he didn’t want to do. They complained how she spoiled the fun the boys would be having by her aggressive and demanding nature. After many secret phone calls between all parents, and to the total ignorance of their boys, Sandra’s plan was eagerly pounced upon with surprising fervour. It appeared that she’d come up with a strategy that solved a number of concerns, her recent successful negotiating skills for her job definitely working in her favour. Between all the parents it was agreed that until they thought their boys were trustworthy enough to observe the rules they would be treated as toddlers. Sandra had gone out of her way to explain what she intended doing to her son and why. She hoped the other parents would join her in the enterprise seeing as how the problems the boys now endured were self-inflicted. She wanted Billy at least to learn a very specific lesson – ‘listen to your mother’ and argued that it was an opportunity to retrain them all at a very basic level. Despite one or two small worries her overall plan was accepted and, as the boys, like Billy, were already wearing nappies to cover the occasional night time accident, there was no reason not to start immediately. Part of this ‘quick acceptance’ was because what Sandra was offering meant that the other parents would be relieved of many of their own worries. Their boys had been a huge problem before their illness dictated their messy bedridden life and the idea that they didn’t have to worry about a babysitter was a huge bonus. Lizzie’s hard won reputation was about to used and the boys’ lives were going to change quite dramatically. It was decided that now Billy had all but recovered Dave, Mitch and Aaron could visit. In fact, what was actually being arranged was for them all to be left at the Southall residence each week day where Lizzie would babysit the four boys for the duration of the long school break. This would give the other families freedom to get on with their lives, whilst the disruptive and argumentative element was kept busy elsewhere. Although the Southall home was originally meant as a drop off and pick up venue on a daily basis arrangements could be made for one or more of the boys to stay over. Sandra would be home on an evening to supervise, so if the parents and family wanted a break for a few days, they could go off and leave the troublesome part of the family in the responsible care of the Southall’s. Sandra jokingly called it a ‘The Canal Boys Summer Camp’ so his mates were under no illusion that the cause of their strange and shameful situation was all Billy’s fault. This proposal appealed greatly to all the stressed parents and Sandra’s standing in this very specific little community soared as a result of such a generous offer. Lizzie would be well paid for taking on the responsibility of looking after such a boisterous group but her charges would have restrictions placed upon them and it would be up to her to enforce the rules that, in the past, they all seemed so at ease breaking. # From the tentative and dismissive way they had referred to Lizzie to their parents, it was already noted that they were fairly fearful of her. They thought she was a bit of a tyrant and her reputation at school had also filtered down to some of the parents. She was a bit of a bully, very authoritative, sure of her abilities and so wasn’t going to be a push over. Only a few older students at school challenged Lizzie, whilst the younger kids tried to keep out of her eye-line. Her reputation was such that, perhaps she wouldn’t have to work so hard to make sure the boys were kept in line. The ‘summer camp’ meant no unsupervised activity without a grown-up or other designated responsible person being around. It would be made clear that any infringement of the rules would mean punishment, and not just the threat of punishment. Sandra’s timetable was to be the basis for what was to take place. Strict bed times would be enforced; protection would be worn at all times, so nappies would become the main clothing and were there to be used. Soiled nappies would only be changed by the ‘responsible’ other person or their delegated helpers. No boy was allowed to change himself, any attempt to do so would result in severe punishment, which didn’t mean the loss of TV privileges, it meant a trip over the knee and a firm spanking. The boys had to know that through their own actions they had gotten themselves in to nappies so it was going to be through wearing their nappies they would be able to get out of this punishment. They were to be left in no doubt it was a punishment and the more they fought it, the longer they would have to wear them. If their behaviour improved then perhaps more favourable attire would be found. However, if it didn’t, the threat was… they would be wearing protection into the new school term until it did. Lizzie liked these rules and wanted to take them a little further. She came up with a chart where her ‘babies’ would earn stars or spanks for being good or naughty. If they achieved a certain number of stars they were to be given a treat, if they got a certain number of crosses on the chart, then a good spanking was what they could look forward to. When no adult was around she would be in complete and total control of their lives from the moment they arrived in the morning until they were taken home again. In getting everyone to agree these terms Sandra used the same argument Lizzie had used when Billy and Dee-Dee had begun bedwetting. She suggested, quite forcefully, that to get the best results from this plan of action all parents needed to be on the same page. It was no good if, once the boys got home, the rules were changed. A united front would have a better chance of success and any weakness in one party would probably mean the undermining of the entire project. Sandra thought it only fair to those who did agree shouldn’t be destabilised by anyone who didn’t. To this end she emailed the timetable and chart info and wanted complete accord before things were finalised. She was adamant that if any parent didn’t subscribe to this ‘manifesto of action’ she’d rather they didn’t take part than disrupt the entire thing. Perhaps surprisingly, all the parents thought the scheme worth a go and decided, in relatively quick time, it was an endeavour worth pursuing. # The boys were being railroaded into something they had no say in, or knowledge about. The parameters of the ‘summer camp’ had been set without consultation on their part and so it was a done deal. They didn’t know it but with a promise that they’d be seeing their friends in the very near future, the first part of the plan was put into action. When the other three boys were sleeping their closets, just like Billy’s, were emptied and clothes removed. They had no idea what was about to happen but as they were all still wearing night time protection, because of the few bugs still running rampant in their system, the first part of their new morning ritual was underway… with relative simplicity. All the parents had been given time to prepare for this day so had already, from various sources, accrued those items needed; nappies, disposables, plastic and rubber pants, t-shirts and shorts. When they woke up each boy was greeted with a firm parent who would brook no argument. Aaron and Mitch found themselves having to eventually conform to the new dress code after a sound spanking from their fathers, whilst Dave was already in the dog house and dare not defy his mother. Like Billy he’d been acting up and had become quite an annoyance to his parents and especially his slightly younger sister who he constantly picked on. His arrogance and feeling of superiority was only brought slightly down to earth when he first filled his pants. Realising their part in letting their son get to have such an overbearing attitude his bottom had received many beatings since the start of his ‘troubles.’ He’d found fairly quickly that sympathy was in short supply when it came to an ill-disciplined boy who defied his parents. Now, with much of his haughtiness knocked out of him was fearful of more to come if he didn’t do exactly as instructed. His parents, Jean and William Thomas had been at the forefront of supporting Sandra’s plan and it had been their enthusiasm that helped get the other parents to so quickly agree. David didn’t like wearing the thick disposable and nursery print plastic pants under his cotton shorts because no matter how he tried to pull them up, they still revealed the thick padding. He was mortified when told he was going somewhere that morning but found a quick slap soon had him towing the line without any further defiance. There had been a strap which had efficiently got the message home. The over-bearing youngster was now a very timid little boy scared of doing the wrong thing. # Mitch’s parent, Anna and Douglas Baker, were far more easy-going but had come to realise that it was their free and easy attitude that had led their son to become such a self-centred and obnoxious little bastard. When he’d come down with his problem, the soaked bed being quite a surprise, they had been very sympathetic. Even when he’d filled his pants during the afternoon, they’d still been compassionate but, again like Billy, he hadn’t told them the truth. So, when they eventually found out… that benevolence ran out. He had simply been told too many times about the dangers and they realised he might influence his two younger brothers by his thoughtless action so steps had to be taken. Although the antibiotics had proved successful there were still some lingering problems. This was the reason that all the boys were still wearing protection at night as a complete recovery had yet to happen. Mitch hated wearing his protection in front of his younger brothers and was very annoyed, often threatening or hitting them, if they so much as giggled at his embarrassment. Sandra’s possible solution was the clarion call to the Bakers for them to fix something, or at least to try and make things better. It was amazing the speed in which they were soon on-board. Mitch woke up to find a nappy, thick blue rubber pants and a blue t-shirt ready for the day ahead and despite his blubbing and threats, was finally dressed for his trip. He had no idea where he was going, and didn’t like the way he was dressed but had no say in what was going to happen. The threat of a life time wearing a nappy if he acted up was enough to eventually quell his disobedience. # Aaron’s father, Steven, had taken his only son on a hiking expedition into the hilly countryside, which was something the two bonded over. Steven was a very outdoorsy type of guy and his son loved to be tramping the hills, walking the dales or camping next to a lake with him whenever he could. He was the apple of his father’s eye. They did everything together and Steven was clear about Aaron always being aware by planning ahead; explaining how to keep safe, taking precautions against inclement weather, always having the correct equipment and clothing. It was under these conditions when Aaron, miles from anywhere, but thankfully on a well-trodden track, felt the first pain in his tummy. A couple more stabs, and a few feet further on screamed in agony as his bowel gave way and filled his undies and shorts. The pain was so intense that, like Billy, he rolled around in torment as his body tried to expel everything that was in him. He rolled on the grass verge with streams of brown liquid filling the seat of his pants and dribbling down his legs. It was a mess and unfortunately one his father hadn’t thought to provide for. Under the circumstances there wasn’t an awful lot they could do. However, thankfully another passing walker, a lady pushing a pram and watching over a couple of kids, stopped to offer help. She seemed better equipped for such an accident as she produced wipes, a cloth and soothing words for the distraught boy. However, she also had a couple of large plastic rubbish bags and spare disposable nappies, which had been destined for her kids should they have an accident out in the wilds. She suggested to Steven that he strip his son out of the filth, do his best to clean him up and put him in one of the disposables until there was something better. She even fashioned a sort of plastic shirt from one of the bin bags that he could put his arms and head through so he wasn’t completely naked. The rustling walk back (his disposable and plastic sack swished together noisily with each step) was slow but mercifully uneventful as Aaron, led by his father, sorrowfully completed the trip; his eyes misted in tears so he didn’t take much notice of just how he looked. The black bin bag only reached down to his crotch so the drooping disposable could easily be seen as he and his father hesitantly manoeuvred themselves back to the car. Steven slowly led his son to the car park which was next to a large café hikers and lorry drivers used. There he was able to clean him up a little better but thought it best to get him home with some urgency. With just two miles to go before their house, Aaron had felt that pain again and filled his disposable. It did it’s best to contain as much as it could but there was a disaster on the front seat. Steven was perplexed on what was happening to his son but knew it appeared more serious than a simple gastro-intestinal upset. In the meantime Aaron’s mother Julia had discovered the wet sheets from the morning so was already on the war-path for when he returned. Once through the door the shitty little boy was in big trouble, but after a thorough clean up his mother, unprompted by anything other than preventing further mess, slipped him back into an old nappy and plastic pants. These had been left over from his ‘difficult early school problems’ so once he was well protected sent him to bed, where, apart from a trip to the doctors, he stayed, suitable encased. It was just as well as he had several terrible experiences before they were able to get the doctor to prescribe something. Meanwhile, Julia was determined that any mess would be contained with Aaron, it was his crap and was damned if it was going to interfere with the running of the household. She fortified his nappy with large thick white rubber pants so that nothing could leak and all would be held safely until time for a change. Steven was a little more sympathetic than Julia though both were unsure of the cause of his problem. His mother hated the fact that he’d tried to hide his bedwetting incident; she saw it as a lack of trust. She’d noticed other things that Aaron had done or said that later proved untrue or simply a downright lie and no longer trusted her son. Both were worried he was fast becoming a secretive liar and that wasn’t how he was brought up. So, when they found out about the boys swimming in the canal, and that they were all suffering from intestine problems that were giving them the ‘squirts’, they knew something had to be done. Word had spread between the affected parents quickly but it was ‘that Southall woman’ who, though not flavour of the month, had crystallised them together with a plan of action. No one thought the way Sandra did, but with encouragement from their friends Jean and William Thomas, and the knowledge that Aaron’s other school mates, Dave, Billy and Mitch were going to be part of this ‘experiment’, Steven and Julia were soon equally involved in the enterprise. He was made ready for ‘summer camp’ wearing very thick protection and voluminous white rubber pants, he cried, kicked and screamed and begged not to have to go as his father forcefully led him to the car. Aaron felt the humiliation grow as they headed to an unknown destination. His dad was trying to be cheerful and upbeat saying he was going to be with his friends, which didn’t help the panic that swept into Aaron’s nappy in a huge unfettered spurt. # Billy had had a very strange and fitful night. The spanking had scared and scarred him and every time he slipped into slumber he relived the powerful beating he’d endured. That was all his mind could come up with, his mother really setting his butt on fire with that awful spoon. The spoon was featuring heavily in his thoughts and dreams. Even though he’d spent the last few days desperate to be relieved of his infantile nappy, he’d woken up messy and soaked. His bottom felt sore from the spanking but, whereas before he might speak and have some attitude, he was deathly silent as his mother cleaned him up and changed him for the day ahead. He was fearful of saying or doing the wrong thing and so, without so much as a murmur, saw himself fitted into his new, daily uniform. To Billy the nappy felt thicker, his mother having added extra booster soak pads simply because he’d had such a messy night. He saw it as further punishment; she saw it as a simple precaution. However, with the heavy plastic see-thru pants covering it all… everyone could make up their own minds. He was at an all-time low. His mother’s accusatory words and heavy hand had done a great deal to knock his usual spirit. Never in all his life had he been so frightened of what was going to happen. When his father had been handcuffed in front of him and taken off to jail, it hadn’t worried him but this… this was something he hadn’t bargained for and was fearful where it might end. His normal grumbling was also very restrained as he felt the tightness hugging his groin, the t-shirt he’d been given to wear was one of Lizzies - white with a large blue smiling bear on the front. It had been one of her favourites when she was six and it fitted Billy perfectly. He’d also noticed that there was a pair of very small matching shorts, which he assumed rightly, would be to wear should he venture out anywhere. He sighed and sobbed at his predicament but that was all he could do, the threat of a severe spanking making him hold his tongue. He felt the anger build up but yet another sudden spurt of pee into his bolster soak-pad stifled any thought of an outburst. It was over an early subdued breakfast that he was informed that he would be having visitors; some of his school friends were coming over to spend some time with him. He was horrified that his mates would see him dressed like he was and began to cry. He pleaded with his mother for it not to happen but she took no notice and merely reminded him that any argument would mean a visit from ‘the spoon’… or worse. Leaving the threat there she turned her attention to her youngest. After many reassuring conversations with Dee-Dee, Sandra had partially convinced her she had no need for protection. She was sat at the table in her little pink skirt and glittery top but with no sign of her usual plastic pants peeking out from beneath. She was back, for the time being at least, to her big girl princess knickers, which of course made Billy feel even more like the baby of the family. Of course Dee-Dee and Lizzie were both on board with what their mother had planned so were very encouraging, saying, after all this time being on his own it was about time he had some friend over to play with. From the silent tears streaming down his face that didn’t look likely but he had no option. # Everyone arrived at the Southall’s within minutes of each other. The three cars unburdened themselves of their reluctant cargos as each boy stood apprehensively wearing just their t-shirts and protection, although Dave at least had a thin pair of cotton shorts covering up his thick padding. A scared and embarrassed Billy was there to ‘greet’ them dressed in his childish armour, also there in welcome was his mother and sisters. “Hi boys,” Sandra smiled, “welcome to summer camp – The Canal Boys Summer Camp – a camp designed just for those boys who take no notice of their parents to the dangers of swimming in filth.” Aaron and Billy weren’t the only ones who’d already wet because both Mitch and Dave had, thanks to nerves and unrestrainable pee, felt their nappies grow warmer during the trip over. They stood uncertainly each trying not to stare at the others thick protection but failing miserably as a feeling of dread and embarrassment filled their bodies. Their already damp nappies were joined by even more leaking piss as each wondered just exactly what their parents had signed them up to. “You can thank Billy for encouraging you all to go swimming and ending up in nappies but, as you all seemed happy to follow him in this reckless pursuit… we thought you might like to follow him with his punishment.” At this point she ran her hand over Billy’s thick protection, his hard shiny plastic pants glowing radiantly in the warm morning sun; the metal of the two huge nappy pins sparkling as if to draw attention to these items of total infantilism, his bulky fabric nappy easily discernible through the glossy plastic. Billy was surprised to see his friends dressed in much the same fashion as he was and for some reason he was both pleased and grossed out by it. However, the snarl on the faces of the other boys was definitely not one of brotherhood. ##### Part 8 Dee-Dee looked along the line of nervous eleven year-olds and marvelled at so many wearing nappies and plastic pants. She knew Billy would be wearing his protection but hadn’t appreciated that the other boys would be as well. In days gone by she might have found it amusing but now, she felt like she was missing out. Although mum had said she didn’t need protection, and Lizzie (in one of her conspiratorial moments) going further and telling her only babies like her brother needed to wear such items, she wanted back the comfort and security they offered. Of course, to begin with she’d worn because of the prank played on her by Lizzie’s nocturnal visit with her squeezy bottle. She hadn’t grasped she’d been coerced into wearing in such a devious way but, once she’d gotten used to the thickness between her legs, and saw the dramatic events that Billy had in his, she quickly adapted, afraid something similar might happen to her. Unlike Billy, she quite liked the smooth bulky plastic material and was thankful for the security it offered. However, she was in a quandary; Lizzie would encourage and discourage her both at the same time, which was very confusing. Dee-Dee didn’t know it but she was like that with Billy; one minute out to embarrass him, the next wanting to mother him. It was true, Dee-Dee didn’t need them but if she decided to wear them on a particular day, she would occasionally wet, though that was only if there was no alternative. Normally she would time things so she could get to a toilet. For her nappies weren’t a problem. In fact, the instances she had with Lizzie when being changed were fun times which she looked forward to, and, if truth be told, she quite enjoyed playing with Billy when he was wearing because he was always a lot nicer. This was something that had happened quite surreptitiously. Her brother simply hadn’t noticed that when he was only wearing a nappy and they were playing together, he not only got on with his little sister but was actually a lot more fun. Before he was put into nappies she could count the hours they’d spent playing together over the previous year on one hand, now, they spent that much time in a day. In different ways nappies were working on both of them, whether they were aware of it, that was another thing. # Even though Billy’s friends squirmed awkwardly trying to conceal as much of their padding as possible and looked less than comfortable in theirs, Dee-Dee touched her ‘big girl’ knickers and wished she’d kept her nappy on. In the past, when Billy had his friends around him he’d act like the ‘big I am’. In fact, each boy put on such a show when their mates were around. It usually fell apart if Lizzie was on the scene but when together they were a solid bunch of ‘robust noisy boys’. Billy would normally still continue to complain about the way girls ruined everything and his school friends would echo that sentiment. Now, confronted by Sandra and Lizzie, and having experienced mothers not being their usual acquiescent selves, a great transformation had happened and they weren’t sure what to do. Boisterous boys could no longer rule the roost and they’d been brought down to earth by the tiniest of things… an all but invisible bacterium. That’s what had reduced them to dependent babies who couldn’t fend for themselves and thereby restoring power back to their parents. # Each boy looked on the verge of tears, their heads bowed as Mrs Southall continued. “Elizabeth,” who I think you all know, “will be your babysit… erm… camp leader and will be in charge of all activities whilst you are here.” There was a very obvious sigh and it looked for a moment like Mitch would make a run for it. However, his father planted firm hands on his shoulder and kept him where he was. A general mumbling of dissent could be heard but ignored. “She will be telling you just how the day will pan out but first…” she looked at the parents who’d just delivered their agitated sons, “there’s a lot for you boys to get to know so… let’s waste no more time and say goodbye to your fathers so we can begin.” It was almost 8am and Sandra had to be on her way by 8.15 so was keen to move the emphasis over to her daughter. There were universal pleas for not being left with Lizzie but to no avail, both encouragement and threats were needed to get them to acquiesce. Like Sandra insisted, there was general agreement and similar action taken by each dad. The boys were reminded that they’d brought this on themselves; they had ended up in nappies because of their actions - so it would be through their actions they would be able to get out of them. This was the mantra the parents had been encouraged to use if their boy started to act up. It proved effective as they couldn’t deny their self-inflicted illness had been a nuisance and caused disruption to all concerned. The eleven year-olds were left in no doubt that this was going to happen. They had to learn about consequences, responsibility and reparations for thoughtless actions. So, for all intents and purposes their babysitter for the foreseeable future was to be the dreaded Lizzie. # Dave was the least argumentative, having already been thoroughly reprimanded he certainly didn’t want his dad to take down his nappy and spank him in front of his school friends. At present he was smarting at the childish nursery print plastic pants, which his parents had insisted on making him wear. They said it was to remind him just what a thoughtless big baby he’d been and should he even try to remove them… there would be hell to pay. He’d previously got the message to just what that payment would be. He stayed miserable but silent. However, both Mitch and Aaron were kicking up a fuss. Without so much as a warning Douglas spanked his son. Pulling down Mitch’s slinky blue plastic pants and nappy in front of everyone and laying into his bottom with a very strong hand. The squeal of pain soon brought the argument to an end and Mitch’s tears were as much from his total embarrassment as it was from stinging swats. The eleven year-old was scared and confused. He’d never been punished in his life up until that morning and now he was getting thrashed for a second time. His relationship with his father (and probably mother) had changed and was no longer allowed to back chat or do as he pleased. That was a huge change of position in the household that he thought he ruled. With each smack his father let it be known that any, and he repeated the word, ANY defiance would be similarly dealt with… and he followed up with the threat that Lizzie had the same authority should he act up or give the Southall’s any grief whatsoever. Aaron looked at his father and wanted reassurance that was not the case but his dad simply nodded and whispered that the same went for him. Aaron immediately curtailed any thoughts of insubordination smoothing down the thick padding under his own slippery waterproofing. Douglas pulled his son’s nappy and plastic pants back up over his well-tanned cheeks and a very sad Mitch cried as he was hesitantly led over to Lizzie for the rest of the day. That little display had stopped any argument from the boys as they were sullenly herded indoors for Sandra to give them instruction before she went off to work and leave them in Lizzie’s more than capable hands. # In a strange and unusual act of solidarity all the parents thought this ‘swift, sharp, shock’, as envisioned by Sandra, might be just what was needed for their wayward sons. Sandra’s generous offer took away their worry about babysitters, and the fact it also allowed them to go off for a few days with their other children or friends, was a bonus. It wasn’t quite a dumping ground but they appreciated what Sandra and Lizzie were prepared to do and because of such a proposal were easily enticed into going along with her thinking. As all the boys were still waking up to some degree of dampness they were all wearing a nappy to sleep in, so, the only thing that changed was that they now wore them all the time. When they had been on their own and at home their embarrassment was confined but now they were with their schoolmates, it was both nerve-wracking and humiliating. Something else the boys were unaware of was that their parents had already left a supply of nappies, disposables, powders, creams and plastic pants at the Southall’s place. So, as some of them had a preference between fabric and disposables, they were well catered for should there be any undue accidents or for the prescribed change times as indicated on the timetable. Billy didn’t like the fact this was being done at his house, it made it look like it was all his fault. However, at that moment, all the boys were very subdued and more than a little nervous as to what might be next. Sandra, realising it was getting late for work reinforced the fact that Lizzie was in charge and everything, both here and at home, was going to be governed by ‘the timetable’. “So,” she said with a smile, “I see it’s play time so… Lizzie if you’d be so kind… what’s first on the agenda?” “Well, normally I’d check that no one needed their nappy changed but, as you can see from the timetable, we have specific times to do that, so, unless someone needs an urgent change…” She looked around at the sad looking bunch of boys in front of her. Her confidence was riding high and she was back in a total control mode over her new charges. They shrugged even though they were all wet, no one wanted to be the first to have their nappy changed that was for sure. “No? Right Dee-Dee and I have sorted out some toys and games in the back garden if… Billy… will you lead on please?” Even though Billy’s huge white thick fluffy nappy was crammed behind a barrier of durable plastic, his huge shiny bottom led the small disgruntled group through the house. There was a slow rustling sound as they marched through to the rear garden area which had already been set out with Billy’s toys, cardboard boxes, blankets and Dee-Dee’s little paddling pool. There was a slight incline towards the rear of the lawned garden where Sandra had laid out a long piece of plastic. The idea was that the group could use it as a fun slide if they wet it. Several other areas had items that weren’t immediately apparent but Lizzie looked happy with what had been arranged for the first day. Despite the garden being fairly private, and the weather wonderfully warm with only a light breeze, the murmur of discord and an air of grumpiness surrounded the boys but they had one more thing to think about. Lizzie pointed to a large board with their names alphabetically listed on it. “You may want to take notice of this. Every day I will be adding stars and black marks reflecting your behaviour toward me, toward each other and toward anyone else who happens to be here. Good behaviour of course sees a star, bad behaviour attracts a black mark.” The boys sighed in disappointment once more but their attention was grabbed as she added. “Five stars lead to a reward… five black marks lead to you being disciplined.” She could see she had their attention now. “The reward could be anything from a treat to being able to wear something perhaps more… suitable… the discipline will not mean simply no TV… it will mean a sound, bare bottom spanking.” The boys looked at one and other in dismay. “Any attitude, dissension, fighting – verbal or physical… or general unpleasantness will be severely dealt with… immediately.” With a deadening thud she punched her palm with her fist so they’d be under no illusion just what kind of ‘discipline’ they could expect at her hands… nasty and controlling Lizzie had re-emerged. “Plus these will be seen by your parents for them to deal with you in their own way once they have you home.” Dave swallowed hard. He knew exactly what that would mean and was determined to be on his best behaviour. # The doctor’s medication appeared to have only limited success and although the diarrhoea was initially cleared up, occasionally, one of the boys would have an accident. Night time was the worst as all the boys couldn’t control their bodily functions and woke up to some degree of wetness or mess. Whatever the strain of bacteria was, it wasn’t prepared to give up without a fight. To make matters worse, Billy wasn’t sure how he could stop peeing his pants during the day as every time he thought about the problem; he seemed to add more fluid to the thick padding. This was annoying because sometimes he went quite a while without having any unexpected leaks and then ‘surprise, surprise’, found he was walking around in a damp nappy with no idea how or when it happened. The thing was, because of the see-thru plastic pants, any accidents could clearly be seen once the soaker pad had reached saturation point. This meant he was keen to get his messy nappy changed before it became too apparent. However, now his friends were here, stupidly he didn’t want to draw attention to this fact, so became reluctant to let Lizzie know, even though he’d been through this procedure many times with her already. # Dis-spiritedly the four boys involved themselves and did as Lizzie instructed. They were unsure how to react but the threat of a black mark against their name was a nagging concern. At times Billy could see the unspoken resentment in the eyes of the others as they joined in some game or other that she or Dee-Dee had organised. Of course, wearing just protection, which was on full view, also acted as a brake on any enthusiasm and they couldn’t help but feel totally inhibited under the judicious gaze of their babysitter. Although everything may have been aimed at entertaining six year-olds, with nothing better to do, and ‘encouragement’ from Lizzie, gradually the boys became less self-conscious and just got on with playing with the stuff provided. By 10am the back garden was alive with activity, although disparaging words were occasionally aimed at Billy by the others. The constant rustling of plastic pants was over shadowed by the ever-growing volume of noise four boys could generate, with the occasion scream or giggle from Dee-Dee. Lizzie had made it clear that her little sister couldn’t be excluded from joining in and so, begrudgingly, she wormed her way in to most of the games. She was having fun and whether the boys were keen or not, they were involved in making that happen. Once that initial obstacle of resentment was overcome, and probably because of the way Dave had thrown himself into at least trying to enjoy the situation, by the time milk and cookies came around they were ready for a break. Even though it wasn’t on the timetable Lizzie asked them once again if any of them needed changing and although they were still wet, they shook their collective heads and put up with the squishiness in their nappies as they sat down for the break. Billy was more nervous than he should have been. After all it was his sister, he was at home and was a sort of leader of this little troop but, and it was a big but, every time he looked at his nappy-clad friends a nervy stream of pee escaped into his own. Under these strained conditions he was soaking the material very quickly and, according to the timetable, might not be able to wait until after lunch to be changed. ######## Part 9 Thanks to Sandra’s suggestions, and particularly this group of naughty boys, the local pharmacist was doing terrific business. He’d sold things there’d been very little interest in before. Not only had she cleared him out of his supply of teenage incontinence equipment, she’d also put in orders for considerably more. His own, latent interest in the subject had been revitalised by this incredible woman who had swept into his store with ideas about how to rein in an unruly son. Mr Edward Swinton, the thirty-five year-old chemist had, off and on, been a fan of nappies himself. From an early age he’d loved the feel of the chunky material between his legs and gripping his groin. He’d gone through times when he couldn’t stop his craving to wear and he’d buy himself loads of stuff only to find that, riddled with guilt, he’d destroy it all and wish he didn’t have these ‘shameful’ impulses. However, with Sandra’s enthusiasm for using nappies as a punishment realised he could get behind that idea; he would punish himself by wearing again. Sandra’s zealous pursuit of finding a solution to Billy’s attitude had taken her beyond reason although she didn’t recognize that fact. Now that she had the chemist eagerly expressing his support for her actions, together they formulated a plan of action with the tools to deliver it. The thick fabric nappy, combined with heavy duty see-thru plastic pants had been Edward’s idea but it had been a suggestion Sandra had picked up on with delight. She could see Billy wearing them all the time and although he might be embarrassed, he’d look so darn cute. This was one of her driving forces. In her eyes, recent time in messy nappies had reduced Billy to a loving big baby. Her thoughts of when just a toddler, and just how sweet he was then, filled her head… she loved getting those times back. She and her daughters had worked hard to return Billy to those days. She was in no hurry to see him grow up. So, seeing her growing son dressed in nappy and plastic pants kept him nicely under her influence and, in her head at least, the sweet child she remembered. It was truly amazing how quickly she’d gone from a fraught and unhappy mother into a vibrant force full of energy and ideas. She felt pleased with her accomplishments and, now with the backing of other parents and Mr Swinton, she knew she could make a difference. When she brought other parents on board Edward Swinton was quick to broaden his product base so they had more options. None of them knew there was already a well-established market for ‘babyish’ items aimed at teens (and older), which he was able to rapidly access. It was amazing. Once Sandra had planted the seeds of what she planned to do with her son, and the stuff that was available to her, the other parents became fascinated. Edward had overheard one part of a conversation she was having where she postulated the thought that they might never have the chance again to ‘reclaim control and re-set the button’. He’d been very impressed by her determination, and was even further amazed when other parents called in and inspected his merchandise to see what they could use on their own kids. There were items he was unsure about, because they might lead people to suspect him of having a fetish for nappies of his own. This had been the thing that had scared him the most; other people knowing what he liked. However, now, with this Southall woman and her bizarre ideas, he was able to come to terms with his own desires. He’d never been happier. Under his smart grey trousers he wore a thick disposable with cartoon animals all over them. It felt wonderful dealing with customers whilst wriggling in their comfy embrace. Daringly he offered this design to several shoppers who thought they were just adorable. Pretty soon he had new clients who bought quite a few of his new colourful disposables, and it has to be said, more expensive designs. The childish baby print pants, which Jean Thomas had latched onto, took the shop owner by surprise. Jean had been so pleased to find them and had declared they were just the thing needed to remind her son what a stupid little kid he’d been. Meanwhile, the pharmacist had hopes that even more parents would take their teenage offspring to task and do the same for the rest of the town’s young ne’re-do-wells and keep them safely ensconced in masses of protection. He was also keen to spread the word and although he didn’t mention Sandra Southall or the other parents by name, he spoke to other customers about what these ‘individuals’ were prepared to do to keep unruly youths under control. He had visions of it not only becoming something between this handful of families but… a town wide… maybe… nationwide movement where parents regained their influence and put kids under massive restrictions. These thoughts, hopes and desires occupied his mind as he looked at the fantastic new stock that filled his store. He writhed in his plastic pants and felt the loving hug of his thick nappy. He couldn’t help it; his profits had never looked so healthy. He was enjoying wearing again and was pleased to offer such a spectacularly specialist service to everyone. So, whilst it lasted he wanted to make the most out of this ingenious scheme. # Whilst the boys lay out in the garden enjoying milk and cookies tensions were overcome as they spoke about how they ended up wearing nappies. To begin with it seemed that what was the most embarrassing thing which had ever happened to them in their life was now something to boast about as they tried to outdo one and other’s ‘messy’ story. There was a lot of laughter and many pained comments of ‘Uuurghhh’, ‘Gross’, ‘Bluuurghh’ and other such yukky noises. That is except for one. Dave was the most reluctant to give his account but when he spoke about the beatings he’d taken since that first ‘unpleasant’ accident, the others reacted in horror at the way he’d been dealt with. All agreed that the treatment they were now receiving was grossly unfair, especially as they should be out doing what kids their age should be doing in the summer break. Their illness had already eaten into the long school vacation so they were desperate not to waste any more time. Only Dave admitted feeling guilty to the nuisance and fuss he’d caused and looking down at his shiny vinyl baby pants, he burst into tears and mumbled how sorry he was to no one in particular. From the moment Jean and William had realised his mess was a self-induced problem their sympathy evaporated. Dave’s belligerent stance and off-hand reaction to his parent’s concerns was met with equal dismay, whilst they adopted a firm and unyielding approach to making him see the error of his ways. They had come down on him like a ton of bricks and that first beating was only a taster to the ones that followed. He just didn’t learn and even though his butt was glowing red continued with arrogance towards his sister and parents best described as self-destructive. What followed was a steady increase in his punishment until he got the message. It took a few days but now his lack of defiance and the fact that he is reduced to wearing a nappy showed his parents meant business. He’d hardly reacted when on arrival at the Southall’s his daddy eased down his little protecting shorts to leave him wearing just his nappy and plastic pants. He dare not argue. He dare not do anything that might irritate his parents. Embarrassing as it was, he just stood there in his nursery print pants and inwardly sobbed, grateful at least that the others were also in nappies. The world of eleven year-old David Jonathan Thomas was reduced to that of a small child waddling around in his thick juvenile clothing. At home a nappy was all he was allowed to wear because his parents treated him as a naughty, incontinent toddler. He would have to behave himself and meet their criteria before they’d let him back to being an eleven year-old. The problem… he didn’t know what that criteria was. It was Dee-Dee who saw how much pain Dave was in and it was she who shuffled over and put her arm around his shoulder in comfort. It was an action that would never have occurred to the other boys but it was one that Dave appreciated from Billy’s little sister. “Don’t cry Davey,” Dee-Dee whispered, “I like your plastic pants“. She gently stroked the slippery bulk, partly to reassure him and partly in appreciation. “I wish I had some like them…” She continued with her hug. Dave welcomed this act of compassion even though he’d have given his own younger sister hell had she attempted it, well in the past he would now he’d just have to put up with it. Of course she never would and had been most jubilant at the fall of her brother from an aggressive, loud-mouthed egotist to a whimpering and very subdued baby. She felt and acted his superior and, with the backing of his parents, relished treating him as a helpless infant. Meanwhile, as there was a break in proceedings, Lizzie realised just how much work keeping an eye on four boys was going to be, so, whilst in the kitchen organising lunch, called around to a couple of friends on her new mobile phone and invited them over. Back in the garden, and after the rotten time he’d had with his parents, this little touch of friendliness and understanding from Dee-Dee really got to Dave and he hugged her back. His friends didn’t know what was going on but thought he must be a big baby if he sought solace from a six year-old. His weepy eyes and quivering bottom lip only adding to the overall look of some little lost soul. Billy himself had over the last few days been comforted by his little sister on occasions and, even though he understood Dave’s situation, reluctantly agreed with Aaron and Mitch that, although he’d been through a rough patch, he shouldn’t let himself be seen by the rest of the ‘gang’ being consoled by a little kid. It looked weird. Eleven year-old Dave blubbing in his infantile plastic pants and being comforted by a young girl who at that moment looked far more grown up than he was. Another thing, because Lizzie had gone inside and wasn’t watching, Aaron and Mitch thought it safe enough and made mocking ‘wah-wah’ crying baby noises. Billy didn’t join in. Dee-Dee just hugged the weeping boy more and stuck her tongue out at the ridiculing couple. She really did like the sweet little nursery print pants which, because of the morning sun, were warm to touch and the fact they stretched tightly over his padding made them shine quite brightly. She looked over to Mitch, his father’s spanking now forgotten, as he nibbled the last of his cookie and continued to chat with the others. Like Davey’s, his plastic pants gleamed a very glossy blue in the sunlight and looked tightly bound around his nappy. Similarly, Aaron’s opaque white pants were strained in some places as they hugged tightly to his thick disposable. In other places they were a bit looser, which meant there was room for more padding should it be needed. All this Dee-Dee took in with just one quick searching look and for the briefest of brief moments a thought crossed her mind. It seemed strange that boys dressed in thick nappies and glowing plastic pants should have such a mean attitude to another boy similarly clad. They were acting like spoilt little brats and at that moment she felt like the only grown up around. # Although the garden was full of toys and games it had all been deliberately kept at a juvenile level. It had been Sandra’s idea that, to begin with at least, as the boys were dressed as toddlers, that should be how they were treated. So, nearly all their youthful independence was taken away as were the trappings of teen (well almost teen) paraphernalia: No bikes, no video games, no mobile phones, no Xbox, no jeans, sneakers… nothing that would give them any sense of autonomy. They would entertain themselves with their imagination and the simple, childish things provided. Meanwhile, the timetable would be what controlled their lives. Nappies and nap times were to be strictly enforced, as were regular nappy checks whether in public or private. A sopping wet boy could lead to nappy rash and that would mean more work. So, an eye had to be kept on not leaving them in such a state too long. However, thanks to her friendly pharmacist, Sandra had found a particular strong and thick ointment that once applied, kept the dampness off the skin for quite some time. She’d also found a baby powder that smelled more wonderful than Johnson’s and liked to make sure Billy was well covered in both since his new pharmacist-recommended outfit came into play. Both Sandra and Lizzie had been happily surprised when the boys arrived that their parents had already done the hard work by making sure the boys were suitably dressed. Nappy and plastic pants on a schoolboy really did reduce them to a more amenable level and the lack of bravado was a pleasure to witness. Individually the boys had been dealt with in slightly different ways but now life was going to be incredibly regimented. If they thought life was already too restrictive they were about to find that it could… and would get worse. Dee-Dee reported the mocking behaviour of Mitch and Aaron to Lizzie who didn’t even question them or take them to task. She simply picked up her black marker and put two crosses next to their names. She then put one black mark next to Billy’s. “Why’ve you done that? We ain’t done nothing…” It was Mitch who voiced his protest. Lizzie didn’t explain merely suggesting that couldn’t be the case or they wouldn’t be getting black marks. There were moans and shrugs from Mitch, who still hadn’t quite grasped that he couldn’t get away with his usual behaviour and was angry to see a third black cross added next to his name. Mitch looked daggers across at Dave and Dee-Dee who were quietly chatting to each other. Billy pulled a face at Aaron as if to say ‘I have no idea what’s going on’, who quickly seemed to find an interest in his voluminous plastic pants. He had no intention of making eye contact with Lizzie in case it resulted in another black mark. Soon Dee-Dee was collecting the empty cartons of milk and Lizzie was encouraging them to start playing together again. However, the mood had changed a bit and it took all her efforts to get a simple game of ‘piggy in the middle’ going. To start with the boys were more than a little lethargic but Lizzie simply said if they didn’t start to ‘buck up’ then further black marks would be added every 15 minutes until they did. Lizzie knew what she was doing and how her threat would work. To begin with, like when they arrived, it would take a little while to get things going. However, once they forgot why they were stalling and just playing, they’d soon be back into the swing of things. It worked. # None of the boys wanted to admit it but all of them had pretty damp nappies. Billy’s was the worst and he knew it wouldn’t be long before it began to be even more apparent as the evidence would be seen through his see-thru plastic pants. It was a good hour before lunch and the change wasn’t scheduled until after one. He knew if he left it too long he’d get in to trouble for that and also his mates would see. He nervously waddled over to Lizzie and asked for an early change. “Well Billy, I think you are being very brave to be the first of your little group to ask…” Lizzie was speaking so all could hear, “so let’s get you into a clean and dry nappy shall we?” Billy was embarrassed by her little speech but hoped that at least he’d be soon dry and that would make him feel better. However, he hadn’t bargained for what was to come. “Dee-Dee,” Lizzie called, “can you bring out the changing mat and supplies for Billy please?” Billy looked at her in disbelief. “Errmm you’re not going to change me out here… ummm… in front of my…?” He asked incredulously. “Of course,” Lizzie replied with a broad grin, “it’s such a lovely day and a bit of fresh air will do you no harm at all.” “But that’s not fair. Please take me to my room and do it… please… please…” he begged. “Don’t be silly Billy. Babies don’t care where they’re changed so nor should you.” Her implication was obvious and anxious tears formed in his eyes as Dee-Dee arrived back with a pile of supplies. Billy was desperate to get as far away from his sisters as he could but it wasn’t going to happen, he was going to be humiliated by having his nappy changed in front of his school buddies. As Lizzie had a tight grip on his wrist, he wasn’t going to be able to run anywhere soon. Dee-Dee lay out the plastic change mat and piled the fresh fabric nappies and stuffers next to the containers of anti-rash cream and powder. Lizzie was already unsnapping his thick clear plastic pants to reveal a very soaked nappy underneath. “Ohh Billy, you’re soaked… you should have mentioned it earlier…” Lizzie pretended more concern than what she intended but then a shiver ran through her body as she realised that it was her responsibility to keep her ‘babies’ dry. This real concern overpowered here pretend concern so now she was desperate to make sure Billy was quickly clean and dry and able to continue playing. It was a weird time as Billy closed his eyes in the hope that by shutting his friend out of the line of sight, he somehow would become invisible. Meanwhile, Lizzie became over protective and lavished a huge amount of cream around his nappy area before pinning him into his thick, dry terry nappy. She snapped the studs together making his nappy impregnable thanks to the solid piece of solid plastic armour and gently eased him to his feet. Meanwhile, his three friends looked on in amazement as their once leader was stripped, cleaned and re-nappied before their eyes. All of them had experienced the same activity in their own homes but somehow it seemed strange witnessing it here and now, in a garden, under the sun and with absolutely no privacy. Any thought of ridiculing Billy was swiftly forgotten when they realised that was the way they’d be changed when their time came. As Billy hadn’t made a fuss Lizzie rewarded him with the first star next to his name. She then patted his padded butt and asked if anyone else was in need of a change. The others were still nervous about any of it so were reluctant to admit sitting in their wet protection. Standing in his back garden, the sun beating down and wearing barely little more than his protection Billy felt so much better. Being the first meant his embarrassment was, to a certain extent, over and it was one less thing to worry about. Although he could feel the huge padding between his legs and the tightness that surrounded his groin, he felt safe. It was a feeling he’d begun to acknowledge every time he was put into plastic pants. That firm embrace and added dry bulk added to a strange and intoxicating sensation which made him feel light-headed and happy. What was perhaps even stranger was that when he saw he’d gotten a star next to his name a burst of pride seemed to permeate his body and he stood tall and proud… and eager for more stars. ######## Part 10 Unknown to anyone except Edward Swinton (who had come up with this subterfuge), earlier Sandra had organised a slightly ‘doctored’ strawberry mix for when Lizzie made the boys their lunchtime drink. The planned flavoursome milkshake had a couple of additives that the chemist was sure would aid the boys into nap time and help release any control over their bladders. So, without even letting Lizzie in on it, the chemist made sure the boys were very wet by the time they woke up. Despite the doctor advising Sandra from giving the boys dairy products Edward had convinced her that it was now safe for them to drink milk. He said this ‘delicious’ mix would put back vitamins and minerals that their illness had drained them of but, if things worsened, there was another special blend that could be included in juice that would also be helpful to their recovery. He, like Sandra, wanted them to observe the timetable, become reliant on their nappies and dependent on adults. He wanted them to realise the necessity for them all. Sandra had been easily swayed by the very persuasive chemist who saw it as further punishment for naughty boys, although he had no intention of telling her the truth about the yummy mix. No, this was one little aspect of the enterprise he was keeping close to his chest. The less Sandra and the other parents knew about it, the better. To Edward, it was just a little insurance to get the lads to cooperate. However, the bacteria still in their system continued to occasionally have fun at their host’s expense, so it wasn’t always necessary. Whilst the boys still wet and messed they could hardly complain about being treated as little kids… well that’s how Edward saw it. After lunch the boys had been reluctant to have a nap. Aaron grumbled about being eleven and not needing a nap but Lizzie merely pointed to the timetable and said he was obviously wrong. Eventually, she coaxed them onto various blankets set out under an awning so they could have some shade and insisted they at least rested. Davey had gone very quietly and, with Dee-Dee in tow, quickly settled himself down next to her. Billy had also gone without so much as a shrug so it was up to Lizzie’s evil stare to finally convince the other two to take their place and settle down. Despite them not being happy about it all, ultimately, and because of the heat and hectic play, Lizzie’s charges did fall asleep. She took great delight in watching over them and seeing the plastic cushion of their protection making them look like a bunch of big kindergarteners. Unaware of the chemist’s little addition to the milkshakes Lizzie was surprised at how quickly they all fell asleep. Thankfully she hadn’t had any milkshake herself although Dee-Dee had. However, it was with a sense of relief that she saw them all slowly slipping into a good long nap. She knew that maybe, apart from Billy, all the others were already soaked but that they would no doubt be even wetter once they lost any control whilst napping. Thanks to the doctored brew, she was correct. In one particular quiet moment she could hear the faint noise of pee meeting an already soaked nappy. The way Aaron was squirming, together with a look of sleepy satisfaction on his face; she assumed it must have been him. Of course, throughout their nap all the boys had added a fresh reservoir of pee to their padding. Unbeknownst to Dee-Dee she had also wet her knickers. Resting amongst the other boys made it apparent just how small Billy was. His three friends seemed to have grown and looked ungainly wearing their protection, whilst on Billy it didn’t look out of place at all. In fact, if he’d been lying next to Dee-Dee he would have looked nearer her age than his friends. Lizzie wondered if he was still their ‘leader’ or if that position didn’t exist now they all had to wear nappies. There was something else that perhaps went unnoticed by the small group of boys and that was Billy actually whispered a ‘Thank you’ to Lizzie after she’d changed him. Of course he’d thanked her in the past, his mother had insisted that he maintain his manners (under threat of a spanking), but now he’d done it without thinking in front of his mates. It was a very subtle change in his behaviour. # Whilst the boys slept a couple of Lizzie’s friends came over to see exactly what it was she was up to. She’d already sketched an outline of her ‘babysitting’ job for the summer but now it was a reality, her school mates wanted to see that she wasn’t exaggerating. Fifteen year-old Nancy had brought her little sister, six year-old Beth along to play with Dee-Dee and Shilpha, a mischievous, but the most beautiful girl in tenth grade, stared at the slumbering boys in disbelief. Both girls took out their mobile phones and started taking photos. Never had they seen anything quite so disconcerting, yet unbelievably adorable. The girls smiled as Lizzie told them why they had been reduced to wearing nothing but protection and both visitors wished it was their overbearing brothers who were on the receiving end of such a fate. However, four well-padded eleven year-olds snoozing away was more than enough for them to want to be involved in Lizzie’s business. Nancy had been friends with Lizzie since they started school together but Shilpha had been a surprising addition to their slowly expanding gang. It was said that Shilpha’s mother had been some kind of Miss India in her youth and, judging by the fine bone structure and dusky complexion of her daughter, that wasn’t difficult to believe. However, once Shilpha was relieved from the shackles of Asian home-life, she tended to immerse herself in rebelling at school in the only way she could. Her grades were high, she looked stunning but needed something as an edge and found she got that by being in the company of the very ‘outrageous’ Lizzie. Nancy and Lizzie were similar spirits and quite happy to take on the boys at their own game, whereas, Shilpha was far more astute. Boys, and many teachers, were in awe of her beauty, whilst her demure deportment and low voice, big eyes and shy smile were all used to great effect in deflecting suspicion away from the things she did. If the truth was known, Shilpha was far more cunning than Lizzie, whereas Lizzie was simply confrontational and angry. Lizzie explained about the timetable and how all of them were under a strict regime that meant specific times for what they could do, where they could go and what would happen to them. The girls thought it was a wonderful idea and hoped it worked and when they were told that nap time was almost over they became quite animated. Noting the timetable, and the fact that Lizzie was already organising a small pile of materials for each boy in preparation, they expressed a desire to help with the changes. Their friend could think of no good reason, as both had younger siblings whom they had changed at some time or other, for them not to be involved. # Dee-Dee was the first up, gently shaken by Beth who wanted to play. It took a few moments for her to get her bearing’s but then realised that she’d actually wet herself whilst napping. She knew she should have worn a nappy and now it was too late. Angrily she went inside, cleaned herself up and because Beth was waiting changed into another pair of nylon knickers. However, she decided that in future she’d wear protection like the boys, she hated the thought of waking up and seeing she’d peed everywhere. She and Beth collected a couple of dolls from her room and took them outside to play. Dee-Dee’s visitor asked why Billy and his friends were dressed as babies. “They’ve all been very naughty,” she whispered, “which made them wet themselves. So… now… they have to wear…” She indicated their puffy plastic pants. “Oh… I haven’t worn a nappy since I was two.” She said proudly. “I don’t mind,” Dee-Dee said with a shrug. Beth didn’t really understand what her friend was saying so they just went and found a spot in the sun slightly away from the sleeping gang, and began a game with their dollies. # Aaron was the first of the boys to wake up, surprised that he’d actually fallen asleep and feeling a finger poking at the front of his nappy. It took a couple of seconds to realise it was Lizzie checking on just how wet he was, so it was with alarm that he swatted her hand away at the same instant he saw the other grinning girls. “Hey… what’s going on?” “Well sweetie, you’re soaking wet and it’s time for a nappy change.” Lizzie smiled sweetly and inferred he should lie out and let her get on with it. “But, but, ermmm… I can do it myself…” Then through gritted teeth added, “I don’t need a fucking audience.” The girls crowded around as Lizzie placed her hand firmly on his chest. “You don’t get to make that decision and what did your parents say about arguing with me.” Her fiery stare made Aaron gulp but he wasn’t done protesting. He knew who these other girls were. He knew them from school but most of all he didn’t like the fact that Shilpha, the most stunning girl in school (and possibly the world), was inspecting him wearing a nappy - a soaked nappy at that. Once again Lizzie tried to grip the top of his bloated plastic pants but he wasn’t having it. “There’s no fucking way I’m getting my nap… er, ummm, no way is this going to happen with people watching.” And he gripped defensively onto his shiny pants. Meanwhile, the others began to come round from their nap. They were also stunned to see that Lizzie’s friends had arrived, which made them try to conceal their own bloated protection. Meanwhile, they watched the proceedings with Aaron intently. “Hey, what’s going on?” Voiced a suspicious sounding Dave. “My friends are here to help.” “But, but, errrmmm… what… ummm…” # Whatever it was that Dave wanted to say didn’t make it out as he watched Lizzie get up and put three more black marks against Aaron’s name. “That makes five Aaron and you know what happens when you reach that number don’t you?” This time Lizzie fixed him with a steely stare. He certainly didn’t want a spanking now, in front of these girls or for that matter in front of his friends. “Look,” he said trying to appeal to her, “I was taken by surprise that’s all but, no one said that there’d be other people involved… er… can’t I just…” Lizzie stood towering over him and repeated. “Babies don’t get to decide when and where they’re changed, as long as it’s by a responsible adult and, as far as you’re concerned,” she emphasised the word, “my friends are way more adult than any of you.” She stared intimidatingly at the small but worried looking group of boys almost daring them to argue. All she could really see were a group of eleven year-olds trying desperately to hide their swollen protection from her friends. “You’re all soaking wet.” She wasn’t prepared to take any nonsense from them, nor was she willing to have her authority flouted in front of her mates. “As you can see from the timetable, it’s time to change your sodden nappies… and that’s just what’s going to happen.” Meanwhile, she called Dee-Dee over who had been quietly playing with Beth and whispered something, which sent her off into the house. Lizzie was in her element now she could bully and scare kids and immediately saw how the boys adopted defensive rather than aggressive positions. They were all scared and the initial bluster had quietened down to just discontented mumblings. “Aaron you’ll be first, you’re very saturated and if we leave it you’ll get a rash and neither you nor your parents will be pleased about that. Now stop fussing like a two year-old.” He tried to scramble away but with a nod from Lizzie her two girlfriends grabbed an arm each and pinned him down. She sat on his legs and immediately pulled his plastic pants down his wriggling legs. He was pleading with her to stop and was surprised at how strong the girls were as they held him firm despite his squirming body. “Please, please… PLEASE…” Aaron pleaded but his shiny pants were already resting down by his ankles and Lizzie was pulling away at the tapes. “Stop fidgeting you silly boy… the sooner we get this done the sooner you’ll be able to go and play.” She made it sound like he was a tot throwing a tantrum over nothing. “You can’t stay in something this wet you’ll get a terrible rash. Now stop it” She added firmly. She pulled away the sodden disposable, which in truth wouldn’t have lasted another wetting, and revealed his genitals. Aaron, embarrassed, was crying now and had his eyes tightly closed hoping that the humiliation would soon be over. What he missed was the arrival back of Dee-Dee armed with her mother’s ‘spanking spoon’. Pinned down by the girls he’d more or less given up trying to stop what was happening. In so doing he relaxed slightly and Lizzie took the opportunity to climb off his legs and pull his feet back over his head. This made his naked bottom an easy target for what was to come next. Six swift smacks with the wooden spoon soon had Aaron screaming in agony. He’d been surprised by this action and couldn’t defend himself at all. The other boys looked on in horror but Lizzie made sure he was aware that swearing, arguing and being none cooperative was definitely something to be avoided. The other’s shook with fear. Up until then the black marks had only been a threat now they could see (and hear) that it was more than that. A shiver of realisation swept through them all and that prompted yet more pee to spurt into their already waterlogged nappies. # Aaron’s sobbing took on an ethereal, hopeless tone as Lizzie spread on the thick ointment and showered him with baby powder. Huge sighs of resignation accompanied the rustling as she unfolded his clean disposable. To Aaron’s and the rest of the boy’s surprise, she made a few slashes in it and lay it down. Then she unfurled a second one and inserted the slashed to make it double thick. The girls still held his arms tightly and were doing their best not to find the whole thing amusing but a sneaky snigger escaped Nancy, which set of Shilpha so that both were enjoying Aaron’s predicament far too much. He didn’t want to show how upset he was, or that their ridicule had got to him but his eyes weld up and a huge wail of desolation could be heard as Lizzie slipped back up his slippery plastic pants. Lizzie admonished her friends and their chuckling ceased. She held Aaron in her arms and gently tried to placate the traumatised boy. “There, there sweetheart,” she said with gentleness and understanding. The sympathetic Lizzie had returned. “It’s all over and you’ll feel a lot better now you’re in something dry.” She hugged him and rocked him patting his naked legs for a couple of moments before he struggled to get away. “OK Aaron, you go off and play whilst I get these other wet tykes into something drier.” Nancy, Shilpha, do you think you could sort Mitch and Billy out while I see to Davey?” They both nodded. # Although all three of the boys were terrified by this new situation none of them dare object after witnessing what happened to Aaron. So, despite the fact that they squirmed and resisted as much as possible, without actually putting up a fight, they let themselves be changed. Mitch closed his eyes and pretended it was his mum doing the business. Nancy was thorough, whilst also enjoying the situation of making an eleven year-old boy ill at ease, she spent a little bit too much time rubbing in the ointment around his genitals. Once he got a stiffy she seemed pleased and that was her signal to make sure he was wrapped, frustrated, in his thick, well bolstered fabric nappy. She enjoyed seeing his excited boy parts being hidden behind such thick padding and took great delight in fastening the huge pins to hold him snugly. She wished she could do that to all the males in her life – brothers, annoying cousins and every boy at school. As she pulled up his blue plastic pants and smoothed them into place she just loved the way the silky bulge removed any indication of his genitalia. He was now, for all intents and purposes, a sexless little boy and she couldn’t have been happier. Satisfied with her work, she patted his cushioned bum and told him he could now go off and play. Lizzie looked across at a job well done and without any argument or dissent from Nancy’s victim. “Well done Mitch,” she nodded at him in validation. “I think we can put a star next to your name.” Despite the fact he thought it was beneath him to react, he was feeling pretty pleased with himself for receiving a star after the miserable start to the day. That soaked, hanging nappy had been a pain, even if he was loathed to admit it. The truth was, now he was dry he felt a lot happier. # Shilpha eyed Billy who was looking both anxious and shy. The school’s most beautiful girl was about to change him so he was caught on the horns of a dilemma. Part of him was pleased she was going to be changing him, whilst another part thought that was the only way she’d ever look at him in the future – a baby, in a wet nappy, needing help. Even though she’d changed him lots recently he knew he couldn’t ask Lizzie to do it, it would be a huge insult to Shilpha and he simply dare not offend her. Obviously his sister was playing a game with him, perhaps trying to make sure he felt embarrassed, but he desperately wanted this divine girl to like him so decided not to put up any objection. He smiled weakly as the ever efficient ‘Indian goddess’ indicated a space next to her. An appropriate pile of nappies and stuffers were nearby as were the lotions and powders needed. Nervously Billy lay down and she started to undo the snaps down each side of his thick robust pants. “These look splendid,” Shilpha’s eyes went large as if sharing a secret. “Like a Knight’s armour… only better… and slinkier.” Billy’s heart raced from such praise from this incredible young woman, whilst at the same time worrying she’d change her mind once the results of his soaked nappy were observed. It was a surprise that once the snaps were released his nappy seemed to expand and bulge out, it was a wonder so much wet fabric could have been so easily contained. Although she loved the fact that Billy was under her control and his naked little body was hers to do with as she felt fit, she wanted to do this first change correctly. She thought she herself mi9ght be embarrassed to begin with but watching Nancy and Lizzie just jump straight in had given her even more confidence. “My you are a wet little boy,” she smiled down at her responsibility. Billy didn’t like being called ‘little’ but smiled back as sweetly and as innocently as he could. “No wonder your mummy needs to keep you in nappies.” Of course no one knew that the reason for such a soaking was the ‘modified’ milkshake that had lessened their control. It was a miracle that he hadn’t leaked, although he looked over at Davey and saw he was having problems with Lizzie. # Whilst Davey had slept, happily hugging onto Dee-Dee, the potent mix had got to work and in a strange act of co-operation with the bacteria in his system, had made for a completely unintentional and oblivious mess to deposit itself in his protection. When he slowly returned to consciousness, having slept really heavily, and finding his little partner now playing with someone her own age, he tried to pretend he was still asleep whilst the Aaron business was going on around him. Eventually, he had to take notice but he guiltily knew what was residing in his nappy and was scared of what everyone would say when it came his turn to be changed. He was quite grateful that it was Lizzie who was going to do the duty, as he wouldn’t have been able to cope with his embarrassment if it was either of her friends. As it was, he was more than a little anxious as to what Lizzie might say and the thought of a messy, stinking nappy being available for all to see (and ridicule) left him a very sad and worried little boy indeed. When it came to his turn and Lizzie had patted the change mat by her side for him to take his place, he nervously toddled over and very quietly whispered in her ear. “Sorry Lizzie but I’m afraid… erm… ummm… I’ve…” He let out a heavy sigh almost unable to say the words. Of course he’d messed himself at home and that often was followed by a spanking, but at least he was changed from his smelly nappy quickly. Now, although he wanted out of it equally speedily, he was shy of the others seeing. “Ummm, would it be poss… er… can you… ermmmm…” He knew he’d after admit to what he’d done even though he was sure Lizzie knew what the problem was. “I’ve messed my pants, umm, do you think I could be changed in… erm… um… private… PLEASE?” Lizzie did have some sympathy for him; he’d been the model member at the ‘summer camp’ throwing himself into the games, involving Dee-Dee and not protesting at all. But, and this was the main thing Lizzie thought, if she showed favouritism and allowed his request, that would be unfair on the others and also set a precedent she didn’t want. “I’m sorry Davey. I can see why you might want that to happen but I suspect that we might have quite a lot of these little accidents so I need to set the way things are done so no one is in any doubt.” She could see the tears bubbling up and his quiet pleading didn’t have the reaction he desired. “Look, don’t worry. Like Billy was the first to have his nappy changed you just happen to be the first to have a messy nappy changed… you’re a pioneer, an episode of Star Trek - Bravely Going Where No Man Has Gone Before – don’t worry, no one will think anything bad about you. I’m sure they’ve all had a stinky bottom recently so they’ve nothing to feel superior about…” She left it there as she slowly pulled down his nursery print pants and set about cleaning the poor distraught and embarrassed boy. He had the urge to cling on as he felt them being tugged down but knew from experience that way led to a red bottom so, reluctantly, let Lizzie do her thing. The other three boys had been changed and sent off to play so unfortunately Davey was now surrounded by all three older girls (Beth and Dee-dee were playing with some dolls on the lawn far away) so became the focus of their attention. Lizzie hadn’t realised just how her hormones were swinging her moods – one minute evil and out to embarrass, the next quiet and understanding. The girls pressed around Davey as he, like all the other, screwed his eyes tightly closed and hoped that would make him invisible. Nancy passed Lizzie the ointment and powder when needed, whilst Shilpha unravelled a new and rather sweet disposable. Dave’s mother had left a whole stack of new but very juvenile disposables for him to wear whilst at the Southall’s. They were snug fitting and had little bears all over them which faded once he was wet. She’d also made sure her ‘little boy’ was well padded by including a mass of thick soaker pads to be included under the nappy. The girls were all very encouraging but still spoke to him as if he was a three year-old. Telling him what a good boy he was and how brave he was being and such stuff. Davey could have quite happily died. #### Part 11 Now that first communal change was out of the way Lizzie was of the opinion, which she shared with the other girls, that all a boy needed to feel good about himself was a dry nappy. Her friends sniggered in agreement. She’d been in her element, controlling and capable and, after dealing with Aaron’s little rebellion, pleased at just how quickly the other boys came to heel. But things were changing… again… and not just nappies. Once the boy’s wet padding was transformed to dry, and with their obvious embarrassment behind them, they seemed a little more at ease. Whereas Billy and Dave had been fairly quick to realise they had little option, it was now dawning on Mitch and Aaron that this was how things were going to be from now on… or until their parents had a massive re-think. Although they’d been terrified of others seeing them dressed in such a fashion, now they were all together it didn’t seem too bad. As the boys were all in the same boat, reduced to wearing protection and nothing else, it was amazing just how quickly they began to accept the situation. Any thought of rebellion from this small group of heavily nappied boys was already fading as they saw the inevitability of what was going on around them. With their parents all of a similar mind and nowhere they’d feel safe running off to, ‘summer camp’ was all they had. Yes, they’d hated being changed by strangers but had to swallow any pride (and modesty) because they simply had no choice. The way Lizzie had dealt with Aaron had chastened them all and the fact that these girls were a lot stronger than they appeared had come as a surprise; tantrums and acting tough were not the answer. Lizzie had certainly surrounded herself with friends who weren’t to be messed with and could hold their own in any fight – all three were quite formidable. The feelings of awkwardness around each other was gradually disappearing and the fact that they’d all soaked their nappies whilst napping had made it a level playing field for humiliation. Even Dave’s messy one had been dealt with without so much as a scrunched up nose by the rest of the gang. They’d all been in a similar situation over the past few days. # Dee-Dee had gone off to play more with Beth so Dave had to join in with the lads. He was still very sheepish but Billy made that extra effort to make him feel he wasn’t alone. “I think Aaron and Mitch think there’s a way out of this…” Billy indicated his plastic pants to a nodding Dave. “I’m not so sure as I’ve never seen mum, or Lizzie for that matter, more intent on anything.” Dave’s constantly weepy-looking eyes and submissive shrug meant he understood. He should do as he and Billy had definitely suffered the worst retribution for their misdemeanours. With very powerful and unyielding females taking the lead they really had little alternative but to do as directed if worse wasn’t to follow. Once all the boys had been changed and were back together in their small group it was Dave who quietly suggested that to get through this punishment without too much aggravation, perhaps it would be best to cooperate. Although there were murmurs of discontent he pointed out that whilst all their parents were ardently supportive of what was happening, without making matters worse, they were in no position to defy anyone. “But it’s just fucking ridiculous.” Mitch hissed through his teeth, aware he didn’t want the girls to hear him cussing. “I’m not going to let them do this to me… it’s not right… it’s illegal… I’m….” He saw Nancy looking suspiciously over at him so immediately stopped his quiet, if intense tirade. The heat from Aaron’s spanked bottom was just beginning to ease so although he agreed with his friend, he didn’t want to take up the fight. Dave countered the argument saying that someone else changing their nappies was better than wondering around in a messy one and, after what had happened to Aaron, his contention was: did they really want to continually get spanked? He was of the opinion they should just suck it up and try to get through the ordeal as quickly as possible and, more importantly, with the least amount of physical abuse. Although there was no bright side to their situation he did also advance that it could be worse – at least they were together in private and not out where anyone could see them. So, perhaps for the sake of just getting through it all, they should knuckle down and do just that. A nappy wasn’t so bad, was it? However, sniggering and baby talk from the girls had set them on edge so they wanted to put as much distance between them as possible. # This wasn’t going to be that easy because, almost immediately, the girls were enjoying their incredible power so were constantly checking for wet nappies. According to the timetable they had no intention of changing them (unless they’d messed) but were happy to make the boys feel uncomfortable, which they succeeded in so doing. Despite this attention soon the boys were playing a game of Shilpha’s suggestion and the girls were joining in. Even Beth and Dee-Dee abandoned their dolls so they could be involved. What they were all unaware of was the pharmacist’s contribution and just how keen he was in spreading this new punishment inspired ideology. The drink they’d had at lunchtime had released a chemical which was still in their system; it hadn’t all been peed out during naptime. It was Dee-Dee who wet her knickers first. Without any warning she suddenly found pee streaming down her legs. She had no control and was extremely embarrassed by what was happening. She stood, horrified to the spot as her socks, as well as her knickers became completely sodden by the sudden flow. Beth looked on in astonishment as her friend lost control and burst into tears. Dee-Dee had no idea why she wet but it was one of the reasons she’d been wearing her own protection in the past, to prevent such a calamity. She’d seen it happen to Billy in those early days and it had scared her into believing the best prevention was protection. Now, and for no reason, it had happened, in front of her friend and this group of well-padded boys. She rushed off red-faced back to her own room with Lizzie in pursuit. # The pharmacist, Edward Swinton had big ideas. He’d loved Sandra’s suggestion of the ‘Summer Camp’ for naughty or rebellious children and was letting this idea percolate amongst some of his new customers. He realised that the long break meant many arguments and disruption in families with parents and children at odds. Determined to make as much money out of this idea as possible he launched an online chat group discussing such things as – disruptive children, punishment, regressive behaviour and a host of other thoughts. He added a ‘What If’ feature, where he set out, without naming any such programme existed, the very things Sandra was doing with her unruly son and his friends. It was soon obvious that had Sandra launched her idea citywide she would have been swamped by the response, many of the respondents to the feature begging for such a ‘Summer Camp’ to exist. Some desperate for a place to unload their troublesome offspring, even if that meant them spending the entire break in nappies. If Sandra wasn’t going to take up this golden opportunity Edward was of the opinion that where there was a market, a fortune could be made so had every intention, one way or another, to make this ‘rehabilitating’ concept available to all. # Meanwhile, the mad summer break that all of them, in some form or other, had hoped for only a short time ago was now a different prospect. Lizzie had been grateful for what had happened. It was her scheme to have her brother and sister in nappies after all, but, even she was surprised at how intense it had gotten and so soon. She was actually indebted that on this first day, her friends had arrived to help (take the piss?) only to find they had so quickly got involved. The girls were part of a little clique at school which had Lizzie at its head; an already highly intelligent group who knew how to control situations way above their age definition. They had succeeded in doing so both at home and at school, often without the target being any the wiser after the event. Smart, informed, enthusiastic, adaptable but ultra-confident in their abilities to manipulate most situations to their own ends… they were more than a little intimidating. Lizzie was confident that her friends would enjoy the process of taking a group of pubescent boys back to babyhood if for no other reason it would help alleviate the boring bits of a long summer holiday. Perceptions were changing almost by the minute. What was fun and humiliating one moment was something to be cherished and protected the next. All those involved were amazed at how Sandra’s idea, and the execution of that idea, affected each of them. For some it would be the beginning of a completely new way of life, whilst for others it would point to a different direction to the one they were planning. All the girls were growing up and with that came a change in their hormonal make-up so, it might not have been as drastic a change as it appeared. Surprisingly, none of the girls realised the changes that were going on with each other and, not dissimilar to the boy’s attitude, kept these minor personal revelations to themselves. # Within twenty minutes of each other all the boys had wet their nappies again. None knew it was their ‘special’ lunchtime drink to blame but all could now feel that same drink sloshing warmly around their genitals. As if a pact had been drawn up, none of them said a word, although each had suddenly felt a slight pang in their bladder before the deluge. As they were embarrassed about wetting themselves so soon after being changed the boys kept quiet and carried on as if nothing had happened. Stupidly, they didn’t realise their plastic protection tightened around the expanding mass underneath so when Lizzie returned, with her well-padded sister, she took one look and ordered them to line up in front of her. Dee-Dee felt a lot better now she was dry and well protected. Beth, who could now see with her own eyes, the amount of padding her friend was wearing thought she looked like a big toddler. Dee-Dee didn’t mind the comment; she was just grateful that Lizzie had given in and let her wear her insurance in case it happened again. Beth stroked the slippery plastic cover and marvelled at the thickness underneath but other than that, they simply got on playing together. Although, at the back of the visiting six year-old’s mind she wondered if she might need similar treatment. She didn’t want it, she was a big girl, but her friend looked so happy so it was inevitable her mind should ponder the prospect. Meanwhile, the boys didn’t want to go through the embarrassment again. Lizzie was quite happy to leave them until their nappies were even more soaked but Shilpha argued that it was ‘unkind’ to leave them like that, especially as nappy rash was a real possibility. She explained how her younger brother and sister had problems because of being left for too long. Off course none of this was true she just wanted to make her case so that they could change the boys again and watch them squirm in humiliation as they got to work. She got her way. There was a mumble of discontent from some whilst others, Dave and Billy, just went ahead and let themselves be changed. This time it was a different girl who saw to their needs. # Over the last few days there had been a definite change in Billy’s attitude to what he was being subjected to. Whether this was some mental appreciation of his involvement in it all, or he had simply been beaten down??? Now there was no argument, just simple acquiescence. It was no longer purely Billy’s fault. His lifetime’s rejection of any female authority and his fight to prove his own predominance had, in such a short time, been crushed. The bugs in the stomach, the sodden nappies and his childish outbursts had proved he needed his mummy, Lizzie and to a certain extent Dee-Dee, more than he would ever have previously acknowledged. When he was at his lowest, it was they who had tended keeping him clean and dry and now, well now, he just thought it was the way it ought to be. He was no longer the leader of his little band of eleven year-old tough guys, he’d become what his mother and sisters had intended, their little, cooperative, baby boy. The humiliation just wasn’t there anymore. It wasn’t so much he liked it or approved of it; it was just the way things had turned out. It was what it was and his thick nappy and sheer plastic pants merely emphasised that simple fact. Rebellion, anger and frustration had got him nowhere but now, as he slid his hands over the bulky shiny protection, he had to admit - he didn’t have to fight any more. Dave of course had been beaten into submission so he wasn’t going to fight what course of action others decided. He knew conflict was a bad and very painful cause to pursue. Both were changed efficiently but had to bear the childish baby talk the girls inflicted on them (and between themselves) as the jobs were undertaken. “Whose little pee-pee needs a good wash?” “Who needs his plastic panties then… mmm?” “Who’s a good boy? Yes he is, yes he is.” “Where’s that sweet little Davey? There he is.” Plus an assortment of other such infantile comments directed at them didn’t raise so much as a frown. In fact, it has to be said that both Dave and Billy had nervously giggled throughout and seemed not to care any more about whom did what, why, when or how. # Nancy had taken to Billy and admired his thick protection. She, like Shilpha, thought he looked adorable. With him being so much smaller than the others, his babyish style of dress only emphasised just how cute he looked. She reflected on how much it suited him and wondered why Lizzie had complained about her noisy and annoying brother in the past. He was a little sweetie and looked every inch as if he should be wrapped in protection on a permanent basis. She enjoyed the process of fitting a clean and dry, but well-padded, nappy in place, tickling his tummy and repeating her puerile cooing as she did so. She only wished she had a dummy or a teddy to give him to play with. Perhaps on her next visit she’d bring a few extra things that might keep her… him amused. Shilpha had taken to Davey. Out of the four boys he had the aura and façade of a mistreated street urchin. Not that he was dirty or anything, it was just his big brown eyes and worried expression made him a particularly sensitive looking character. Shilpha loved having complete authority over this eleven year old; to be able to wipe his naked body clean, smear in the various protecting creams and lotions and apply powder to his badly striped bottom (the painful process of how he got to be so subservient was still pretty obvious) made her feel sorry for him. She paid attention to his well-disciplined bottom, making sure the correct rejuvenating and antiseptic cream was applied to those tender looking bruises. Not that she would ever admit it because despite the girls having all the power, and loving that power, she was more sympathetic than she thought she’d be. Now the reality of them being treated as babies and the work that involved, the actual embarrassment quotient was not quite as important. Perhaps it was their total vulnerability, and now she was charged with care of that vulnerability, it had somehow changed her perceptions. # “Mitch, Aaron,” Lizzie said in a very authoritative voice. “I don’t want to put any more black marks against your names today but, if you don’t come over here immediately I shall have no alternative.” She peered over at Aaron with a concerned look. “I’m sure your daddy… and mummy,” she made it sound very childish, “will not be happy to see that you were the only one of the group to get so may black marks. I’d hate to think what they’ll do…” She left that threat hanging there just long enough for Aaron to move over and lay out on the changing mat in front of her. “That’s better. Just do as you are told and everything will go well.” She swept her hand over the boys. “I don’t want to have to remind anyone again.” Whatever comments were going through the boy’s minds at that moment can only be guessed because no one said a word. “Unless of course you prefer a soggy nappy and enjoy walking around in your own wee.” As the boys wriggled uncertainly, she seemed satisfied at her comments. “We’re here to help keep you clean and dry so it’s in your best interest to cooperate fully. Do you understand?” They may have been reluctant to reply but she wanted them to admit who was in charge. Eventually she got a “Yes Lizzie” from all of them. # The rest of the afternoon of this first day passed off without any further disruptions. In fact, Summer Camp was all going relatively brilliantly so when the first parent arrived, Aaron’s mum Julia, to take her boy home, she was intrigued to watch for a few moments as her son was smiling and having a pretend tea party with the rest of the group. It had been a little game that Beth had suggested and so as to keep on Lizzie (and the black marks) good side, all of them had indulged the six year-old. The problem was the older girls were enjoying the silliness of the situation. They all adopted snooty accents pretending they were aristocracy and looking down on the riff-raff before them. The thing was, despite everything, it was all very funny and some of the comments were hilarious and had the boys rolling around in hysterics. It was a great game, which everyone was having fun with. The thick padding and rustling plastic pants had all but been forgotten as laughter filled the air. It was strange because, the humiliation the older girls had wanted to instil in the boys had also taken a place on the back-burner. Although they were definitely in charge, they were enjoying the occasion as much as the boys were doing. Even their constant inspection didn’t seem to be an intrusion any more. In fact, the boys appeared to like the girls running their hands over the smooth plastic and slipping fingers inside to check. Well, that is except for Mitch who was still a little apprehensive about the entire thing. As soon as Aaron saw his mother watching he froze. He didn’t want his parents to think he was enjoying the situation and was holding secret thoughts that perhaps, on the drive home, he could convince them to exact another, different punishment. “Don’t stop sweetie,” she called out to her suddenly sullen looking boy. “I have to speak to Lizzie so you finish your game first.” She smiled and waved him on as Lizzie and her broke away from the others for a chat. Aaron looked scared. He’d been disciplined by Lizzie and he knew what that meant, he’d been told enough times. He saw his mother look over as she spoke to Lizzie and her expression change from one of happiness to one of disappointment. # “I’m afraid Mrs Carter that to begin with Aaron didn’t settle in very well. He accrued several black marks for his attitude and swearing and I had to take action. I spanked him.” Mrs Carter just nodded and looked over at her son. “I have to say that after that incident he, and the rest of the boys, calmed down and although he wet at nap time, which was expected, he’s been as good as gold since.” Lizzie finished her update with a reassuring smile but it was obvious that Aaron’s mother had other thoughts in her head. “He calmed down once he’d been disciplined you say?” “Yes ma’am. He was very well behaved.” “OK, his father and I will see that he is no further trouble to you, erm, girls… er… I didn’t know others would be involved…” “Oh yes. The Summer Camp has a few of my friends volunteering to help and it seems that the boys have reacted well to them.” “Ohh I see.” Lizzie wasn’t exactly lying but it also wasn’t quite the truth. “Yes, we’re all excited about the weeks ahead.” Julia nodded and gave her a weak smile. “OK Aaron, time to go. Say good bye to your friends and thank the girls for looking out for you.” Nervously he got up and made his way over to his mother. His nappy was soaked and the plastic covering bloated out. Oddly, he’d peed in his nappy the moment she had arrived and he could tell from her current expression she was not happy with him. Perhaps he wouldn’t mention a different punishment until he was home and his dad was around. In silence they set off. As Aaron wriggled uncertainly in his squishy nappy his mother was glad she had pinned up the timetable on the fridge and his bedroom door. She was determined that he would obey each and every bit of what was set down and, after his 7pm bath, his bottom would be that teaching pad. # Lizzie saw her mother arrive and greeted her with a hug. “How’s it all gone sweetheart?” Lizzie smiled. “Not bad for a first day…” They walked over to where the rest of the group were still playing and Sandra looked down on the array of shiny rubber pants. The three remaining boys looking in a much better mood than when she left them and marvelled at how Shilpha and Nancy had got involved. The smiles on everyone’s face told her it was a job well executed and as she thought this, Billy ran over to give her a huge loving hug. “Mummeee.” Dee-Dee followed and said, almost mimicking her brother. “Mummy.” Sandra patted both their padded, silky bottoms and kissed the top of their heads. Mitch and Davey looked up and nervously grinned. “Hello Mrs Southall.” They chorused. They were obviously still a little embarrassed by their predicament but appeared to be simply getting on with making the most out of their situation. Besides that, the girls were keeping them occupied and they didn’t want to disappoint them. Sandra nodded to her eldest. “Well you seem to have everything under control, well done sweetheart.” Lizzie shared the secret of her success with her mother as she whispered. “All a baby really needs to be happy is a dry nappy”. Sandra raised her eyebrows. “Ohh, and a strict routine… just so they know there are limits.” Lizzie added. Sandra patted her son’s and daughter’s padded bottoms once more and sent them back to play with the others. Billy’s thick plastic pants identifying his ‘little boy’ status and even the bigger boys appeared to have accepted much of their punishment, crawling around on hands and knees wearing just their thick protection. The entire scene of grown up girls and juvenile boys playing together filled her full of pride. She sighed in satisfaction. She hoped it wouldn’t be too long before the girls, Lizzie’s team (she smiled at the thought), would soon be leading the small group of contrite boys on outings into town and beyond. She didn’t want them cooped up in the house and garden for the rest of the school break, that wouldn’t be fair. She also had an idea that they might not be too keen on being out and about wearing nappies. However, the way things were going, it wouldn’t be too long before the boys realised they didn’t get a say in proceedings and conceded their eleven year-old lives were a thing of the past. A feeling of accomplishment swept through her body. She had been right to do what she’d done and, with the continued help of Lizzie and her friends... and the other boy's parents, knew the boys were in firm but understanding hands. Nappies and plastic pants had been the solution to reining in unsocial behaviour and it didn’t hurt that they looked so innocent and sweet as a result. She looked across at the washing line and saw Billy’s nappies and plastic pants flapping in the late afternoon breeze and couldn’t help but think it was a price that had been worth paying. That smiling hug she received as she walked in was all the proof she needed... she’d got her little boy back. However, she didn’t get the opportunity to question for 'how long' when her phone rang. Edward the chemist informed her that a fresh batch of innovative protection had arrived and… wanted to meet up as he had some exciting new proposals. The end
  8. Boo (re-post)

    “Boo” There was a time, a very short time, when I enjoyed Halloween. As a toddler me and my twin sister Jessica would be dressed up by our parents and guided around the neighbourhood collecting candy. Our outfits always seemed to attract a lot of “Oh ain’t you just the cutest” type of remarks and our plastic jack-o-lanterns would be filled with more sweet goodies. I think mom and dad actually liked the event more than either Jess or me, mom especially loved creating our matching costumes. They would hang back at the end of the pathway leading to each house and take great pleasure in the homeowner’s delight in seeing such sweet and adorable, ghosts, ghouls, risen dead or whatever outrageous getup we’d been put in. As in every neighbourhood there is always a house that has a ‘history’ and, depending on who is telling the story, that history could be a number of things; death, murder, the unexplained, strange disappearances, ugly neighbors… you get the drift. Some of these myths may have had some basis in fact but as a seven year-old, if someone older told you such a story, you regarded it as true. One such house was ‘Laurel Grove’ (or Laurel Grave as many people called the place) where they reputedly had the best Halloween displays (very scary) but also, the best candy should you dare to knock at their door. # On this Halloween mom had got us ready but had suddenly felt unwell so we were entrusted into the care of James and Hillary Templeton, our thirteen year-old neighbors to supervise. Of course they didn’t really want anything to do with a couple of seven year-olds but their mother, mom’s best friend, had insisted so they got stuck with us. Things hadn’t gone too badly. Despite them almost dragging us as quickly as possible around the block we had managed to collect a sizeable amount of stuff in our Halloween bags. Jamie and Hills eventually grew tired of our company and desperately wanted to get us home and off their hands but Jess and I still wanted more candy. However, the teenagers came up with a plan to get us to run home and never come out again, they decided we should visit Laurel Grove. # They told us of the deep secret the place concealed, that although it was a scary and frightening place to visit, should we be brave enough, the rewards were everlasting… and the candy was the best too. Neither Jess nor I had heard of this place before and I think the only thing that registered was “the best candy”. Jamie kept saying it was really a place for grown-ups, those over twelve, and probably not a place where seven year-old babies should go because they’d probably wet themselves and run home to mommy to get their diaper changed. We understood the inference… that Jess and I still wore diapers… we didn’t… so didn’t like that one bit. They were baiting us and we, as petulant second, almost third, graders were desperate to prove we weren’t a couple of diaper wearing pre-schoolers. We agreed to go with them the extra couple of blocks to see this particularly scary place. # When we got there a whole new bunch of people dressed in their creepy best were doing the rounds. Most of them appeared older than me and Jess but we never saw anyone go down the pathway of Laurel Grove. The twenty yards or so from sidewalk to front door were wonderfully kitted out in incredible Halloween props; gravestones, coffins, disembodied arms and pieces of flesh hung in a mist they had somehow created. The place looked fantastic, just like a movie set, with strange groans, howls and spine-chilling sniggering emanated from behind every bush putting nerves on edge. Jess and I looked at each other and though impressed by the set, decided not to take our chance at getting the best candy ever. Our teenage supervisors said they understood, we were probably much too babyish to dare to do such a thing and besides they didn’t want the responsibility of having to change our diapers. Their teasing was having an effect and we were getting fed up with this reference to us being diaper wetting babies, neither of us had worn them since we were two, so the joke was on them. Ha! However, when they said that most people were scared of knocking on that particular door, and it would take someone with an enormous amount of courage to do so, we saw our way of not only proving we didn’t need diapers but that we were more grown-up than some of these older boys and girls who were avoiding the place. We saw that not only would we get the best chocolate and candy EVER, we would no longer be seen as babies but become heroes to older kids. This thought spurred us on. # There was absolutely no doubt that we were both sweating heavily as we started slowly and nervously on the journey up the haunted pathway. Jess looked terrified with each moan she heard and became quite upset as some red gunge dripped over the side of a broken coffin. I closed my eyes, trying to ignore each horror as it appeared but my head filled with even worse terror when I walked into a spider’s web that glued itself to my face. The words of encouragement (and giggles) from Jamie and Hills seemed muffled as we drew closer to the door, even though we were still only halfway there. A rustling in the bushes and the bright red-eyes of a skeleton dog howled right next to Jess and she turned tail and ran back down the path. I swallowed hard, determined that I was going to be a hero but already feeling my tummy tighten and breathing difficult, at the same time my bladder and bowel both seemingly wanted to burst. I had no idea this was what fear felt like but I desperately didn’t want to return empty-handed to the sidewalk. I knew that James and Hillary would never let us forget that we were just a couple of scared babies who couldn’t even get up the courage to knock on a door. # I concentrated on achieving my goal. I wasn’t far away and the ghostly hand that touched my face, and the whispered warnings filling my head, only stopped me in my tracks for a few seconds before I forced myself forward. There was low satanic laughter coming from behind the door. I could hear scratching and an evil voice telling the pitiful moans ‘…they would never leave - ah ah ah ahhhhh!’ The hair on the back of my neck was somehow crawling and despite the sweating, I felt goosebumps chill my body. My teeth began to chatter, each step felt like I was dragging a huge weight and the moaning and flapping of wings was getting louder. Blood oozed around the doorway, I felt pee rush into my underwear, shadows drifted by and a bigger shadow filled the reflection in the glass window. The shape changed from man to animal to… I wasn’t too sure but when I looked back to the sidewalk all I could see was the thick mist obliterating everything but a crawling skeleton I hadn’t noticed before. # I gulped and a strange shiver ran down my spine. I was inches away from the door and steeled myself to knock and hope that I wasn’t transformed into some abominable creature of the night. As I raised my little hand to knock, the lit up porch was suddenly plunged into darkness. Fear, or some other shade passed through my body but a purple light switched on. When my eyes got used to the new illumination I could see the word ‘BOO’ smeared in still glistening blood across the door. A scream of death or pain or torture filled my mind and it was that terrifying moment when my bowel decided it had had enough and I filled my underwear. I couldn’t move as my bottom emptied and a rush of lumpy liquid and farts packed my pants with a smelly, mushy load. I stood spellbound for a few moments, staring at that bloody word that appeared to have been so recently scrawled across the woodwork by some poor, ravaged creature. It looked wet and dripped and then I realised that I was also in the same predicament. ‘BOO’ That’s all it had said but those three letters would, unknown to me, haunt me for the rest of my life. # The trip back home was a messy business. Jamie and Hillary didn’t want to have anything to do with a shitty little seven year-old, what with the filthy marks all over my costume, not to mention the smell. Nevertheless, they were nervous of the consequences because they were supposed to be looking after us both and now, one scared little seven year-old had crapped his pants because of their lack of care. Thankfully Jessica held my hand and guided me home because I never would have made it I was crying so much. The two teens were begging me not to tell, whilst coming up with suggestions on how I should explain the disaster. As I was so traumatised by the entire experience I wasn’t party to any of these negotiations. I waddled, slowly and with legs apart, to try and prevent my soiled pants from rubbing against any other part of my body, so I really wasn’t listening. Meanwhile, Jessica had managed to get all Jamie’s and Hillary’s candy and I never knew what else as payment. Once home she spent no time in telling our parents what had happened, how scary the place was and who was really to blame for enticing me up that pathway. Of course mom blamed herself for not being there, whilst dad went around and told their parents. They were grounded for two weeks. # I was still crying when mom led me upstairs to the bathroom and cleaned me up. However, no sooner had she put me in my PJs than a nervous tremble ran through my body and I immediately wet myself. She could see I was in shock and didn’t quite trust me to not spend the night wetting the bed so took evasive action. She told dad to go out to the garage and bring in all the stuff she’d stored there from when I was a baby. In moments he returned with a huge box and mom seemed to know exactly what she was looking for. I was laid out on a towel draped over my bed to ‘catch’ any further accidents and, as she rummaged in the box, through my tears I noticed she had found a couple of thick fabric diapers I hadn’t seen for many years. I wanted to protest but in reality I could hardly get my breath so she had me diapered and in a huge pair of clear plastic pants (which I never remembered owning) in a matter of moments. For the first time since being outside that door at Laurel Grove, I felt out of harm’s way and the thick padding that mom had shrouded me in added to my sense of protection from any evil that may have followed me home. Mom and dad both came and kissed me night-night but left the light on so I wasn’t scared. That didn’t actually work because my dreams were terrible. Every time I closed my eyes I could still see that garden and when I did drop off I was being pursued by all kinds of devilish beings. In the morning I was in no better state than I had been when I’d arrived home that night. It was a good job that mom had the foresight to make sure I was thickly diapered. # For the next few nights I remained well-protected but after a couple of days I was waking up dry and we all thought the drama had past. Life, and school, went on as normal and things only changed when one Saturday morning Jessica crept up behind me and shouted “BOO” and ran off giggling. Under normal circumstances I would have chased after her and this would have developed into a game of tag or have us both roll around on the carpet play fighting. Alas, on this occasion the strange shiver that ran through me on hearing those three letters had the same effect as those scrawled so unnervingly on Laurel Grove’s front door – I filled my underwear. Totally unbidden, pee and poo took urgent leave of my body and soaked what little clothing I was wearing. I looked down in horror as a pool of the stuff formed at my feet - shocked I didn’t move but started to cry. Jessica came running back and saw what had happened and called for mom. She couldn’t believe her eyes on seeing her seven year-old son standing in the middle of his bedroom covered in such a mess. She scooped me up and not caring about her own clothes carried me to the bathroom. She stripped and hosed me down with the shower, then once dry, carried me back to my room and got Jess to find my diapers again. Within minutes of the horror striking, I was back in a thick diaper and plastic pants hugging mommy and wondering what had happened. I don’t suppose the fact that she had scared me even entered Jess’s head, all she explained to mom was that she’d just ‘tagged’ me and ran off when she heard me crying. I couldn’t offer a better explanation, the word ‘boo’ having no connection at the time, so mom must have presumed I was still having some kind of memory to that traumatic night. My diapers stayed with me now for school because on two occasions I’d wet myself while in class. It wasn’t completely unheard of for a seven year-old to have an accident but, with my recent history, mom thought it better to keep me protected 24/7. I didn’t mind. Although I didn’t particularly like the thickness wrapped around me, I certainly didn’t like the wet pants and stifled giggling of my class mates more. Being called a baby was so much worse if there were pee stains down the front of your pants. As time went on I seemed to be wetting myself almost constantly so my diaper was ever present. I never knew when I would leak, or flood and I couldn’t work out the reason. The therapist I saw of course blamed my current situation on the ‘Halloween experience’, which left both my parents feeling very guilty seeing as how much it was they who enjoyed the occasion most. However, I’d seem to go ages without any sort of accident and then suddenly whilst reading, or even walking down the street, I’d feel that shiver and instantly fill my diaper. # I haven’t been able to shake this feeling for, well, since I was seven and I’m sixteen now but I think I now know what might be the cause… it’s those three letters B.O.O. It wasn’t the Halloween garden - the ghosts, blood and bodies, it was those three simple letters. I know this because when I read a book, my concentration is on what I’m reading but as soon as I stop and relax, the word BOOK is no longer the word, all I can see is BOO. The same goes for seeing any word with ‘boo’ somewhere in it. For instance, the word BOOB has recently had me peeing my diaper like a fountain on many embarrassing occasions, especially when I’m trying to chat up a girl. Boomerang, not a word I see often, but I found myself pissing my pants to once I did notice it. The same goes for many words containing those three letters together. So, walking down the street and seeing Book Shop, often finds me filling my diaper. I didn’t notice that was the reason when I was younger, I always assumed it was the event that had caused my problem but now I see the real cause. I hadn’t put the word and that experience together. In fact, although I remember the incident perfectly, the word itself I never thought of as traumatising, just the way it was scrawled bloodily on the door. However, now I think I know the reason, I’m not sure I can tell anyone, I feel stupid that a childish scare word has had such a devastating effect on my life for over nine years. However, I needed help so went to see the shrink and he said he was bamboozled by my casebook. I left his office in a right messy state. ~~~~~~~~ THE END Or is it… BOO
  9. Because of the current tech problems I have re-laid the entire story in this chapter. You can still read the comments at the end but they probably won't make much sense. Samantha’s lesson Samantha was being her usual annoying self. Her parents didn’t know why their adorable little baby girl was growing up to be an obnoxious little fiend. She was seven years old but had the attitude of a grumpy teenager who always thought she was right. Her mommy and daddy were at their wits end as to what to do with her and yearned for the days when she was a happy little bundle of smiles, giggles and the only demands she made was for her paci. Now she demanded attention 24/7 and had the house in uproar if she didn’t get it. Her brother, four year-old Nathan, was more often than not left crying because of some act of nastiness that his darling older sister had visited on him. Nathan was a sweet, undemonstrative child, who, though worryingly still in diapers, was otherwise a normal little boy. Having said that, the normal ‘terrible twos’ that his parents remembered so well from when Sam was at that age, appeared to pass him by. Maybe this was down to the fact that they had his sister to contend with and she seemed to be forever in that part of her ‘terrible’ childhood development. Whenever Nathan got any sort of attention Samantha would start acting up, get into trouble, cause an argument or generally be disagreeable. Meanwhile, her little brother would sit there playing with his toys and perhaps wondering why he was being ignored (if a child of his age ever thought that way). The school was always sending messages and asking Sam’s parents in for meetings to ‘discuss’ her behaviour but everything that was tried to remedy the situation failed miserably. That was until her mother accidently came across something that appeared to work. * Samantha had been screaming at her brother. Ridiculing the poor boy because he was still wetting himself, not just at night but also during the day, and, because she had been potty trained since the age of two, told him how much of a baby he still was. After one particular nasty tirade and unforgivable incident where she rubbed his wet diaper in his face, which needless to say had upset Nathan tremendously, her mother decided on her own punishment. She spanked her daughter (much to Samantha’s surprise and something her mommy had never done before), removed her little panties and replaced them with the wet diaper with which she had just been tormenting her sobbing little brother. Sam was the one now crying, and not just because of the spanking, she hated the feel of the wet diaper that now hung between her legs. Her mother had made it pretty clear that if she even attempted to remove it that would produce an even more severe spanking. Samantha was smarting from the first smacking she’d ever received and was temporarily stunned into submission so wandered miserably around the house with her huge drooping diaper easily visible below her little dress. Her mother noticed that somehow this action had calmed her daughter down and, for a few hours at least, she saw Sam behaving herself and, although perhaps reluctantly, start playing with Nathan who was now sitting happily in his dry protection. * As the children played their mother couldn’t help but notice how cute her disruptive daughter looked now she was back in diapers. The way it so obviously hung below her dress when she bent over brought back memories of those happier days when she was a baby. The fact that she now appeared a lot more obedient and agreeable also hadn’t gone unnoticed although, she realised it could have been down to Sam’s reddened bottom. When it was time for Nathan’s afternoon nap she also put Samantha down at the same time and while there was a little argument, it was soon over and she complied. Popping a pacifier into her son’s mouth soon had him sucking wildly as he soothed himself to sleep whilst hugging one of his teddy bears. Without thinking she also slipped one between her daughter’s lips and was surprised to see her also sucking as she closed her eyes and slipped into her own little dream world. Soon both her children were out for the count and mommy was able to have time to assess what had happened. Neither she nor her husband had, with the arrival of Nathan, given Samantha any less attention so wondered if it was more than just sibling jealousy. However, her terrible behaviour at school showed she was quite the tyrant there and that pointed to something else in their daughter’s make up. Physical punishment had never been in the armoury these parents used. However, with this current action, Sam had learned that there were now very definite consequences to her conduct. Meanwhile, her mother decided she was going to at least try and see if she could develop on this more agreeable side to her daughter. * When her children woke up she first changed Nathan, who had inevitably wet himself as he slept, spending time making him giggle as she wiped him clean, powdered and re-diapered him. She covered that with a pair of clear plastic pants and then pulled on his favourite matching cartoon t-shirt and shorts. Happily dry and wide awake he rushed off into the sunlit garden to play on the swing. Sam had warily watched the entire procedure but didn’t dare get up before her mother had given permission. Despite a rather long, deep nap she wriggled uncomfortably in the sodden diaper and could still feel where her mother had spanked her and wasn’t keen on repeating the experience. Once the soggy mass had been removed she anticipated getting her panties back but mom then proceeded to do the same as she had with Nathan; wiping her daughter clean, spreading on some lotion and getting her well powdered. However, despite this obviously leading to the inevitable conclusion Sam was surprised when her mother produced another disposable. The protest was noisy but not unexpected. Nevertheless, her mother just lifted her legs up, swatted her bottom a couple of times, slid the diaper into place and fastened it tightly around her hips whilst her stunned daughter tried to hold back the tears. * Sam was in shock. Twice in one day she bore the marks of her mother’s hand but didn’t know what she could do about it. She wanted to object, she wanted to scream, she wanted to tear the house down but she didn’t want to feel that pain again so, despite every bit of her body wanting to reject what was happening, she grumpily put up with it. As her mommy slipped a pair of plastic pants over her diaper, but before she let her go and play outside, she was told in no uncertain terms that her behaviour was not acceptable and that until she stopped being an awful sister to her brother and started to conduct herself as a young lady, she would be kept in diapers. With that her mommy stood her up, pointed to the door and told her to go and play in the garden with Nathan. Reluctantly she moved towards the door, she didn’t really want to go outside where someone might see her wearing her padded protection, she was a big girl after all but her mother had made it clear that was where she should go and acting up just wasn’t an option. Her mother watched as she waddled out the door. There was no doubt about it, that little glimpse of bulky padding showing beneath her dress made her look adorable. In some way she hoped her daughter would do something unpleasant again, just so she had reason to keep her dressed like that for a little while longer. * Whilst her children were playing in the garden she went to the attic and found some of the baby clothes she used to dress them in. Waves of nostalgia swept through her mind and she wished she could have both her little babies back. She found a pair of pink frilly plastic pants that Samantha had worn as a toddler and remembered how sweet she had looked in her little dress with the frills showing over her bulky padding as she pushed her toy pram. Most of the clothing was Sam’s she had been the first and as such received brand new baby clothes. Little Nathan, when he came along, was saddled with her hand me downs but she remembered that he always looked so sweet no matter what he wore. As her fingers touched each piece of clothing another wonderful memory came to mind. She chuckled to herself at the thought of when he wore the same pink frilly plastic pants that had somehow gravitated to her hands, and how he had crawled around the house unperturbed by such a sweet but ‘girly’ item. He was always such an easy-going bundle of joy and her heart filled with the love she shared with almost every other mother over her children… but sighed to herself as she wondered what had gone wrong with Samantha. * Unexpectedly, the afternoon passed off without any trauma, both her children played together and appeared to be getting on, which was a first for a long time. Sam had even helped her brother build a tent using a blanket and the washing line as they’d played at camping in the wild outback. She howled like a wolf, made chirping and squawking noises as she pretended she was a host of wild animals and Nathan giggled his enjoyment and feigned being scared as he hid behind a rock (the upturned clothes basket). Their mother hadn’t seen such simple pleasure for quite some time and both her kids seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely. When her husband returned home from work he was astonished to see a very relaxed wife, and both his children playing happily in between watching snatches of TV. When he sat on the sofa after he’d eaten he was also surprised to find that this time not only Nathan came over for a cuddle but the normally fussy Samantha also wanted the same. Without making a scene she crept to the other side of her father and settled down as, with one in each arm, he hugged his children together. He looked over at his wife as if wanting an explanation but she just smiled and let him discover the secret for himself. It wasn’t long before he noticed that his daughter, like his son, was also padded and again looked to his wife for some sign as to why this was the case. She was smiling broadly at his incomprehension but he realised that whatever the reason it had appeared to work, for the time being at least, and for that he shrugged in gratitude. Perhaps, for the first time in many months, they would have an evening without a Sammy style outburst, or a neighbour complaining about their daughter’s behaviour. * At night both her children were put to bed at the same time. Both had protection, which once again Samantha tried to rebel against but her mother forcibly made her wear under the extreme threat of getting her daddy to administer a more severe punishment if she didn’t do as she was told. This warning had the desired effect and Sam quietly, if unhappily, submitted. She mumbled under her breath about not being a little baby and resented being put to bed at the same time as her silly little wet baby brother. So, she was still able to lash out even if this time it wasn’t as loud or as prolonged as normal and certainly she was more than a little unsure of the ground she stood on. Her mommy simply popped in her paci, pushed a teddy under her arm and told her to go to sleep. She added that she didn’t want to hear any sound and if there was it would mean ‘big trouble’. Leaving that warning to speak for itself she wished her sweet dreams, kissed her forehead and left to return downstairs to her perplexed husband. When his wife explained the way the day had panned out, and guiltily justified the spanking (which neither really agreed with), all became clear. Both seemed unhappy about what had happened but couldn’t deny the results. When she spoke about her idea to keep their seven year-old in diapers to see if the transformation was permanent, he had to concede that it was at least worth a try. The threat of a spanking as punishment was also going to be maintained but they hoped that the threat would be enough. He would support his wife in her decision but thought that Samantha was a very headstrong girl and expected some reaction to her new situation. His wife sighed as if she agreed that it was inevitable but, and she was adamant about this, she was going to pull out all the stops to try and curb her daughters aggressive activities. * Despite herself and her insistence that she didn’t need to go to bed so early Samantha had a very good night’s sleep and only woke up when her mother shook her to get ready for school. Through sleepy thoughts and wandering hands, which fell on her thick night time protection, she remembered what had happened the day before. The plastic pants felt strange as did the bulk between her legs but it slowly dawned on her that she had wet during the night. She hadn’t done such a thing since she was two and couldn’t understand why it had happened now. However, with mother standing over her and encouraging her to get up she shifted uneasily beneath the covers. Fearing a possible argument or tantrum her mother quickly pulled back the covers and pulled her out of bed and, like her daughter, was surprised to see the soaked diaper. Thankfully the plastic pants had kept everything else dry but even though her mother looked concerned the tears were welling up in Sam’s eyes. She was certain that she would get spanked for it and was crying because of the fear that had gripped her body, which unfortunately didn’t help as she peed a little more as she stood there weeping. Her mother took sympathy on her damp daughter and hugged her telling her it was OK and that sometimes little girls have accidents. Through her blubbing Sam tried to say that she wasn’t ‘little’ and not a baby and that it shouldn’t happen but all that came out was some childish whining and choked-back sobs. Soothing words eventually calmed the wet seven year-old as she was guided to the bathroom to change out of her soaked padding and to get ready for school. Her mother cleaned her up and went to retrieve her school uniform. Fearing that she would have to wear a diaper for school she started bawling even harder but calmed a little when she saw that her mother had returned with panties and not further protection. However, as her mother helped her get dressed she issued a further warning about her behaviour at school. If it didn’t get better, or any of the teachers had reason to complain, she would be wearing diapers to school every day for the rest of the term. Shocked at this terrible threat Samantha meekly put her uniform on and went downstairs for breakfast whilst her mother got Nathan ready for his day at nursery. * Once at school and away from her mother’s authority, the compliant Samantha quickly turned into the overbearing ‘Little Madame’ the teachers had come to dread. Creating uproar, making other children cry and generally being at the centre of mayhem soon led to her mother being called to once again come and collect her disruptive daughter. The drive home was a sullen affair, her mother angry beyond words and Sam insisting that she’d done nothing wrong and it was entirely the other kids fault for acting like babies. However, once through the door her mother quickly dragged her over her knee, pushed up her school skirt, pulled down her panties and smacked her bare bottom for the third time in two days. Whether Sam thought that it just wouldn’t happen again or not, her mother was not going to put up with such blatant disrespect for her, the teachers and other children. Never had Sam’s bottom been so thoroughly chastised and when her mother made her stand weeping in the corner and think about what she had done to deserve such a punishment her extremely red cheeks were testimony to the fury her mother had felt. Her tears eventually dried up and though her bottom stung she was getting bored standing in the corner waiting on the punishment to end. However, the angry words her mother had said about moving an inch were still ringing in her ears so thought better than to defy her so stayed put. Unfortunately for Sam her smarting bottom was just going to be the start of her ongoing punishment. **** Part 2 As she rubbed her sore bottom Samantha wanted some kind of revenge on her mother. Her mind was working on the things she planned on doing and, she thought conspiringly, ‘daddy had cuddled me yesterday so he will be on my side’. Alas for her she was unaware of what her parents had already agreed between them to try and tame their infuriatingly volatile daughter. The anger she felt at least took her mind of her glowing cheeks and she was in a seething world of her own when her mother re-entered the room armed with her daughter’s new clothing. Unable to contain her fury any longer she turned and screamed at her mother and ran off to her bedroom, where, for some reason, she thought she’d be safe. Her mother had always knocked before she entered and Sam naively believed that all she had to do was say “No” and her bedroom fortress could not be breached. Mommy would just go away and leave her to her own devices and eventually call her for dinner when it was ready. The trouble for Sammy was, her mother was not aware of any of this and simply stormed into her room, telling her in no uncertain terms that she needed to learn to behave. Sam was quick to avoid the grasping hands so jumped up and ran around the room, leaping on her bed whilst avoiding her chasing mother. Quick she may have been but her mother was clever and just waited for her to tire herself out as she shouted, screamed and threw things in her wake. Unfortunately for her, she tripped over one of the blankets she had thrown in her temper tantrum and, still kicking and screaming, was scooped up by her mother. Her red bottom was easily identifiable now she was wearing no panties and provided an obvious target for her mommy who delivered another couple of whacks to that already tender behind. Then, as a stunned and weeping Sam struggled to make sense of this departure from the norm, her mother stripped her out of the rest of her clothes, wrapped her in an ultra-thick fabric diaper, pinned it in place and told her that from now on any time she acted like a spoiled little baby, that was just how she would be treated. * Her mother picked her up, carried her downstairs and deposited her in the back garden and told her she was to play nicely in the sunshine with her brother until daddy got home. Wearing only a thick diaper it was Sam who now looked like the baby. Although Nathan was wearing his usual protection at least it wasn’t visible like Sam’s. He playfully told her that she looked like a big baby and was glad she’d come to play with him. It was amazing that, dressed like she was how her whole personality changed. She hadn’t reacted to her brother mentioning she looked like a baby and, once outside in the garden, she just got on and played the games that Nathan wanted. Her mother wondered if Sam was even aware of this dramatic change but she was intrigued as to why, as soon as she had her headstrong daughter diapered, all the anger, violence and screaming just stopped. As they played Nathan did something totally unexpected, he shrugged off his shorts and t-shirt and wore only his diaper like Sam. To him wearing such a thing was completely normal and often ran around the house dressed that way. His parents hadn’t tried to stop him, they enjoyed his diapered exuberance and he was such a contrast to Sam who would be the one often ridiculing him for being “such a baby”. Now, as mommy watched from the kitchen window, she couldn’t believe how sweet her two diapered children looked as they played some imaginative game that was producing gales of giggles. * Their father was somewhat bemused to sit at the dining table with both his children dressed only in diapers. He didn’t say anything because he knew there would be a good reason why his wife had taken such measures and was also relieved to sit through a meal with no squabbling. Indeed, Nathan was explaining what he had done at nursery and Sam quietly listened to all the conversations. Partly because she was worried that her mommy would tell daddy about her being naughty and perhaps… well… she didn’t want anything to happen as she planned on speaking to daddy later. After dinner Nathan sat in mommy’s lap watching TV whilst Sam cuddled up with her daddy. He gently patted her padded bottom as she squirmed around trying to be loving and endearing. She adopted a very childish voice, which was most definitely not what you expected from her, and whispered in his ear just how much she loved her daddy. Despite him realising she was planning something, it had been so long since she’d expressed any form of affection to anyone that he was quite taken aback. Once mommy took Nathan upstairs to bed she saw her opportunity to see if she could manipulate her father into agreeing she need not wear diapers ever again. Hugging daddy she said, in that false childish voice she hoped would sway him, that mommy was being cruel making her wear ‘baby clothes’ as she hadn’t done anything wrong. Her daddy snuggled his daughter tightly but replied that she must have done something as he was sure mommy wouldn’t have done it otherwise. Sam tried to force out some tears as she sniffed that it was all the teachers fault, they didn’t like her and made up lies about her to make her look bad. She looked at her father, desperately trying to hold back those crocodile tears, and told him that she could only rely on him not to be awful to her… protesting her innocence as she let a tear slide down her cheek. Her father was impressed with his daughter’s acting ability and was softened just a little by such a sterling performance. He tried to put Sammy’s mind at rest by saying that he was sure it would all be sorted out soon but in the meantime, and it would probably be only for a short while, the diaper stayed. “Besides,” he said grinning and trying to make his daughter feel better, “you look so cute… and your brother never seems to worry about wearing them.” She was still trying to gain her father’s confidence. “But daddy, he’s a baby and I’m a big girl… and big girls don’t wear diapers.” “They do if mommy tells them they do.” He stroked her head, “Naughty girls, no matter how big they are, wear diapers if their mommies think that’s what they need.” He held his daughter at arms-length and looked into her tear-streaked face. “Sometimes, mommies and daddies have to punish their naughty children… and you have been very naughty…” “No daddy I haven’t, it’s not my fault,” she blubbed. But her father noticed that even this protest was not as vocal or as strident as he would normally have heard from her. He hugged her close, patted her padded bottom in reassurance and told her not to worry, he was sure that her diaper days would soon be behind her. However, he couldn’t help thinking what a sweet nature she could have if she wanted. His wife’s insistence on her being diapered certainly had an amazing effect and, like her, thought that both their children looked delightful dressed in such a way. * Her mother called down that it was time for her bath and though disappointed at not having influenced her father she hung tightly onto his neck as he carried her upstairs. There was no denying the fact that he liked this affectionate version of his daughter. Carrying her cradled in his arms and stroking her padded bottom brought back his deep paternal thoughts. In that brief trip up the stairs he too remembered with a great degree of happiness just how Sam used to be when a baby. How soft she felt, how wonderful her childish hugs were, how sweetly she smelled of baby powder and lotion. His head was filled with all these thoughts when he put her down on her bed and began to unfasten her diaper. No sooner was the diaper removed than that hateful steely look reappeared in her eyes. She kicked out and kicked-off as her daddy tried to guide her to the bathroom. She saw her mother knelt down at the side of the bath washing and playing with Nathan who was giggling as bubbles were being piled on his head. Sam screamed that she wasn’t going to get in with her “smelly baby brother” and that she should have a bath to herself. However, her father picked her up and deposited her in the warm suds with her brother and a warning that he didn’t want to hear another word from her. This didn’t stop her complaining about everything. Nathan was in the way, the water was too hot (and too cold), the bubbles made her eyes sting, mummy rubbed too hard with the sponge… etc etc etc. * Mommy plucked a clean and fresh Nathan from the bath and snuggled him in a huge soft towel. She carried him back to his room, dried him off, powdered and diapered him, gave him his paci and teddy and left him to sleep. Then she went to her daughter’s room and got her nightwear ready only this time, her pjs were augmented with another thick fabric diaper. Once her daddy had fought through all the arguments and mess that her bath time routine had made, he also wrapped her in a towel and took her back to her room. Covered in such a huge thick towel she wasn’t able to run or kick or do anything other than lie still. Once he’d dried her, and while she was still relatively immobile he slipped the diaper under her and had it pinned in place in seconds. Sam’s protest died on her lips as her father pulled her pink pjs over it all and kissed her goodnight. Now she had Nathan settled her mother came in and, seeing her lay quietly in her bed, asked if she’d like a story. A very subdued Sam nodded so her mother picked up a book she’d read at an earlier time of her daughter’s life and began the tale of a pretty princess. Sam snuggled down with a stuffed toy and her mother remembered she had a paci in her pocket and offered it to her, which she happily sucked on as the story continued. It wasn’t long before she too dropped asleep and both parents couldn’t believe how much difference the diaper made. They discussed what had happened during the day and the punishment that had been dealt out. Strange that they both felt so guilty about a strategy that seemed to be working but it was decided that, in the morning, when they were getting her ready for school she would be diapered… just to see if her attitude there could also be changed. * Again Sam slept right through and was only roused from sleep by her mother’s gentle shaking. Sleepily she tried to make sense of where she was and what she was doing with a thick, wet diaper between her legs. This time, because she wasn’t wearing any plastic protection, the diaper itself had not been enough to prevent her pjs, blanket, sheets and mattress from getting a bit of a soaking. As her mother realised what had happened Sam started crying and shaking her head. She just couldn’t understand why, for the second time in two days, she’d woken up wet - she was a big girl and big girls don’t have accidents. Her mother made a note to remember plastic pants next time and felt silly that she had already bought a couple of pairs for her but hadn’t thought to put them on her that night. Still, it was a damp lesson, and one she was determined not to make again. However, whilst her daughter was coming to terms with what had happened, she quickly dried her off, wiped her clean and powdered her before slipping her quickly into a waiting disposable. Sam wasn’t really aware of the quick change so only realized what she was wearing when her mother slipped over a pair of pale blue plastic pants which matched her school uniform. She really wanted to object but was still feeling a little bit ashamed of her mishap. Her mother simply didn’t allow her protest to materialize and soon had her dressed for school. Other than the soft crinkle sound she made as she walked, no one would have been aware of the fact she was now diapered. However, Sammy was well aware of this fact. She thought the rustling noise she made could be heard by everyone who had ears, the thick feeling between her legs a constant reminder and although she hated it there was nothing she could do and would just have to put up with all her friends laughing and calling her names. * Mommy dropped her off at school and walked her into the classroom where she was left to go and join the other pupils. Meanwhile, her mother had a word with the teacher, passed her a bag which contained spare disposables and told her that Sam had had an accident during the night and that they thought, for everyone’s benefit, it might be best if she wore some protection for the rest of the day. Her teacher seemed slightly taken aback at this turn of events but nodded her understanding of the situation and she would see to it that if Sam needed a change, it would be done without any fuss. Despite herself, Sam wet her diaper twice whilst at school so without any fuss she was sent to the nurse who changed her. Sam may have felt awful about having such accidents but she was by no means the only girl in her class who also needed their diaper changed. She still didn’t understand why she wet just because she wore a diaper but the pee came unannounced and the only time she realized what had happened was when she felt the disposable swelling under the deluge. The other thing she was amazed by was that none of her classmates commented on either the crinkle sound or her frequent trips to the nurse, they all seemed relieved that at least for the time being, Sam wasn’t as shrill as she often was. However, the teacher also noticed that, despite her occasional need for a change, her behaviour had improved dramatically. She’d always been the brightest of all the children in her group and had dominated every one of them in every subject and, to a certain extent, the teachers had part thought this was why she acted up so much. Perhaps she felt stifled by her peers and her bad actions were her way of drawing attention to this problem. Maybe, but there was no denying that whatever her parents had done or said to her, she appeared to have calmed down considerably. The teacher didn’t make the connection between the protection and her behaviour but, when her mother came to collect her and heard about such positive conduct, she couldn’t help but feel relieved that she had found some kind of solution to her daughter’s aggression. On the car journey home Sammy was quiet but looked a little grumpy. Her mother tried to make conversation but she just gave one word answers. At least she wasn’t being nasty just deep in thought or at least had her mind on other things. When they arrived back at the house it was patently obvious why Sam had been so quiet, she’d wet herself again and was more confused than ever as to why. Thankfully the plastic pants had protected the car seat and contained the flood but she was a very waterlogged girl who desperately needed changing. * Her mother let her wallow in her damp diaper for a while whilst she unloaded the car and started to put her shopping away. Sam looked most dejected as she waited for her mommy to finish what she was doing and help her change. Eventually, she finished and shooed her daughter up to her room. Once there she helped her take off her school uniform, which left her standing there in the swollen protection. Sam was just pleased that there was no one else who could see what she could see. Her mother helped her out of the plastic pants and the disposable was saggy and saturated. Pulling at the tabs released the weight and, to Sam’s great relief, it flopped to the ground. Her mother laid her back on the bed and cleaned her up; wiping and powdering her thoroughly. Sam may not have liked it but realised that, whilst she was wetting herself, the diapers would be staying. So, when her mother fixed her into a thick fabric diaper like the one she’d worn the day before, she could do nothing but accept her fate. This time, and like Nathan always wore, she had a pair of clear plastic pants pulled over them. Her mommy added a pink t-shirt and was about to add a pair of shorts when she realised that the padding was too thick for them to fit. In the end, like the previous day, she was left to wander around the house in just her protection. Her mother was overjoyed when, just before Nathan arrived home from nursery (dropped off by a neighbour who also had a child at the same place) Sam climbed on the sofa with her and cuddled into her lap. Like her daddy the day before, this was the first act of affection that Sam had expressed for quite some time. Her mother couldn’t have been happier or more thankful and, with an emotional tear in her eye, snuggled her daughter tightly. ***** Part 3 For the next few weeks Samantha wore a diaper to school as well as at home. Every morning she would wake up wet but now took it as normal. She still had no idea why she should be in such a state but now that she did she no longer reacted. The enquiring, lively, though ultimately argumentative young girl had been replaced by someone with a much more placid demeanour, whilst her brother had never had such an attentive playmate. Both mother and father were proud of their daughter and although her diapers were proving extra work for them, it was more than compensated by the fact she was so much calmer and such a pleasure to be around. Also, and this was something they were both relieved about, they no longer needed to spank (or threaten to spank) Sam to make her do as she was told. At school it was like she was a different person, no one was scared or intimidated when she entered the room like they had been before. Also, she soon learned that she didn’t have to go to the nurse every time she wet, the disposable would soak up and store her pee leaving her feeling relatively dry, if slightly more bulky. She even got used to her plastic protection ballooning out a tad as her diaper expanded but waddled around expertly not letting on about her ‘misfortune’ until she arrived home. The moment she got in mommy would always lift her skirt, push a finger past her elasticated leg-holes and check, then if needed (which was nearly always), whisk her up to her room where a store of disposables, fabric diapers, plastic pants, wipes, various lotions and powders now awaited her regular changing routine. Gone was the anger, the shouting and near hysterics that had caused so many problems in the past, all being replaced by an affectionate sweetheart who seemed to be getting cuter and more adorable by the day. Her mother was really enjoying the transformation from disassociated seven year-old into an endearing little miss. She heaped praise and love on her almost nonstop and was even more overjoyed by the positive and tender reactions it brought. So many hugs, cuddles, kind words and general compassion were now happening naturally, it was as if Sam had remembered what it was like to be nice. Mommy purchased prettier diapers, more colourful and fancy plastic pants, as well as an array of new clothing that emphasised what a darling, devoted, little daughter she had. When they went out Sam’s delightful pastel-coloured summer dresses had gotten shorter to reveal her matching padded panties. Sam appeared not to even notice this ‘devolution’ in her clothing and no longer argued about anything she was made to wear. However, her mother was getting much too comfortable and at ease at the way her ‘reborn’ daughter had so effortlessly returned to those less-fraught toddler days. * It used to be a regular event that Nathan would request to go ‘potty’ after the deed was already done. He seemed to only know about it after it had happened and of course by then it was too late. However, as Sammy appeared to be getting younger Nathan was getting the hang of actually using the potty on time. He still occasionally had accidents but they were becoming less and less frequent and both his parents were relieved at this sudden progress. Almost overnight he began to go to school in ‘big boy’ briefs, and as a typical four year-old, when he was with his chums, enjoyed this step up from being a little kid. However, at home there was a different and unforeseen development. As his sister scooted around the house, often wearing little more than her diaper and plastic pants, he wanted to wear the same as she had on. Not that he wanted her girly clothes, he just wanted to wear the same kind of thick diapers and brightly coloured plastic pants as his sister, perhaps missing their snug and comforting quality. As soon as he returned home from pre-school he’d change out of his briefs and ask his mommy to fit a diaper. If they were playing out together and Sam was wearing something new, even if it was something frilly and pink, it didn’t bother him, he wanted to match. He’d sulk if he didn’t get it, though thankfully there was never the histrionics that Samantha inflicted on everyone. He just asked, begged, looked dejected and promised he’d never ask for anything ever again, if only he could wear whatever Sammy was wearing. He wasn’t even using his diaper as much as Samantha, more often than not waking up dry, but it was as if he wanted to show solidarity with her predicament so, he’d decided to dress like her. Despite an initial resistance from his parents, they saw no harm in his request and eventually gave in to his rather sweet desires... even if it was for something pink and frilly. His mommy checked the stuff she had in the attic from when they were both toddlers and found the plastic pants she’d reminisced about only days before. She just hoped that if they fit it would stop Nathan from looking glum because the household had become a pretty cheerful place. The silky plastic cover was a bit of a squeeze over his thick fabric diaper, the frilly nature not worrying Nathan one little bit. He was just happy to be dressed the same as his sister. And that joy was catching because mommy and daddy were equally thrilled to see their two children deep in some game, playing together, or laid out watching TV wearing their matching outfit. Their vibrant padded little posteriors repeatedly making new memories that both parents had thought were long gone. * The entire environment in the house had changed. Bed times were no longer proceeded by refusal and argument, in fact, Sam had started going at the same time as her younger brother without so much as a sulk or pout. On alternative evenings each parent took turns in settling the children down; bathing them, changing them, reading stories and making sure that a pacifier and correct plushie were in attendance. A kiss, a hug and a sweet ‘night-night’ was enough for their children to sleep right through until morning. Neither parent could believe that from 7pm they now had peaceful evenings to themselves and could completely relax. Mom was able to get back to her favourite pastime of dress making, while her husband found time to decorate and repair the many things that had just been left due to a lack of time that a disruptive house caused. Mommy made new outfits for both her children but they were aimed more at Nathan’s age group, than Sammy’s. Cute cartoon characters festooned many designs, though any new dress for her daughter was complemented by a pair of shorts for Nathan. Both children seemed to enjoy coordinating their clothes and were often found in each other’s bedroom discussing what they should wear. A padded bottom had never bothered Nathan and now Sammy didn’t care either. Her wetting was manageable so, perhaps because of the peace which now reigned, neither parent thought it strange that she was continually in damp diapers. Mommy and daddy loved their sweet and well-behaved little urchins and were often complimented by other parents who struggled to control their own kids. Moments like that made them feel that they were doing something right but failed to question how this turn around in Sam’s behaviour had come about. They’d taken it for granted that the harsh but, as they saw it, pertinent spanking had made her realise the destructive course she was on and helped her mend her ways. The diaper punishment had emphasised that her parents were determined to see that transformation in a permanent way and eventually Sam, even as just a seven year-old, had grasped that need for change. Her parents were enjoying this break from a home constantly on the verge of turmoil and certainly didn’t want anything to disrupt the tranquillity they’d achieved. So, although the daily soaked diapers were a shame they considered them as collateral damage, though something she would eventually grow out of. They had tried on a number of occasions to let Sam out of her protection but she still spontaneously wet her panties, the bed and the furniture and looked most gloomy until returned to the comfort and security they offered. * During the second month of Sam’s dramatic behavioural turnaround her mommy was called into school. This hadn’t happened for such a long time that she was shocked by such a request and the phone call had given her no cause to lose a sudden feeling of dread. Once in the office, and nervously smiling, she took her seat opposite a very serious looking Principal. After the cursory pleasantries he held up a sheaf of papers lying on his desk. They were a selection of childish drawings and paintings, scrawls and daubs that any mother of a two year-old would be proud to stick on her fridge, although she wondered why they were being shown to her. He explained that from being the brightest seven year-old in school Samantha now had no attention span, lacked any drive, appeared to have forgotten all that she knew and that this ‘artwork’ was as much as they could get her to do these days. Shaking the sheaves of paper in bewilderment he wanted to know what had happened to alter Samantha’s personality to such a dramatic degree. A cold, dark feeling of guilt and horror had crept into the pit of her stomach. Sam’s mother searched for the correct words to explain the change. She didn’t mention the spanking, she only mentioned about the return to diapers because… for some reason… her mind was racing for a plausible excuse. She came up with one - perhaps it was as a result of stress at school? Maybe that’s why she’d become incontinent? Seeing the Principal now slightly on the back-foot, and desperate to avoid any blame, she continued that maybe all the acting up at school was as a result of their teaching methods? Perhaps, Samantha was sensitive to such pressures that fall upon a seven year-old and she’d rebelled in the only way she knew how? The Principal was shaken by this accusation but, realising she had the slight upper-hand for the time being, seized the opportunity to leave but not before delivering a final desperate comment. For the sake of her child perhaps it would be for the better if Sam was home-schooled from now on and no longer subject to whatever pressurized regime the Principal may have installed in the classroom. * As she collected her daughter from another concerned looking teacher her mind was in turmoil. She smiled wanly and picked up her daughter, felt that her diaper was full but carried her straight to her car. Samantha was telling her mommy what a nice teacher she had and that she’d had a wonderful time painting and playing most of the day. The fact that she was soaked appeared to have no effect on the enthusiasm about school she was sharing with her mommy. On the journey home she responded to her daughter with nods, smiles and the occasional “Yes sweetheart” but her mind was racing for an explanation. Neither she nor her husband had gone too deeply into why she wet but had only been so thankful for the change. Surely, she thought, it couldn’t be the spanking that had made the difference but then she remembered, at the beginning, Sam would still react and shout and scream even after getting her bottom slapped. No, she determined, it was definitely down to when she was put into diapers… that was when she appeared to calm down the most. It was also the time when she began to become incontinent because her morning diaper was always soaked. Her mother was on the verge of panic; what had she done to her lively, outgoing daughter? Once home she quickly stripped her daughter out of her sodden protection. After she’d wiped and powdered her, instead of the diaper she went and found a pair of her little school girl panties. She slipped them up her well-powdered thighs, pulled on a sweet summer dress she’d recently made and sent her out to play. Sam looked a bit upset at not having her diaper in place but these days never argued with her mother and went gloomily to play on the garden swing and wait for her brother to get home. Desperate for some answers her mother searched the internet, clicking on a multitude of sites to see if any other parent had similar experiences. She was angry with herself, and her husband, for not getting to grips with this earlier. Between them they had just been grateful for the less stressful existence. She realised that once she had Sam in diapers, and Nathan to a certain extent, she had babied them both; neither had to make a decision, everything was done for them, she was even happy to dress them as toddlers so that mommy and daddy were simply too grateful to have such sweet, loving children. * As she peered out of the kitchen window to keep an eye on what Sam was up to she was horrified to see her squat down, and without pulling down her panties, begin to pee. A puddle began to form under her but it was obvious from her expression that she was delivering more than just her urine into her pants. Her mother caught her just in time before she went to play on the swing again in her messy panties and rushed her into the house and led her up to the bathroom. She sat her on the toilet and explained that was what it was for but Sam just had a quizzical look and started to unravel the roll of pink toilet paper. Her mother was suddenly struck by the complete lack of understanding her daughter now had of the rudiments she had mastered when she was two. Why she hadn’t been aware of this shift in her daughters decreasing perception she could do nothing but blame herself. However, she was desperate to get Sam back on track… somehow. Nonetheless, first thing first, she needed to clean her up and that meant, for the time being at least, back into diapers and plastic pants. For the first time in a long time she reluctantly applied the various creams and lotions whilst hoping that she would be able to get her potty trained again, especially now that Nathan had managed it. However, as she pinned on the diaper and slipped on her frilly plastic cover, she couldn’t help but think how cute and adorable her daughter was when she was so dependent. Her joyful giggles and laughter rang around her room, the kisses of gratitude and affectionate hugs that always followed her diaper change, the general feeling of happiness that radiated from her sweet smile must, her mother continued to argue internally, account for something. * Mother was in a dilemma, now she knew about her daughter’s apparent regression at school she couldn’t pretend that everything was hunky dory. There had been occasional nagging doubts about the ease with which Sam had accepted her new status but her mommy had just been too overjoyed at getting her little sweetheart back that she pushed them to the back of her mind. Now that the school was aware she couldn’t pretend any more. Despite her vociferous defence of her daughter to the Principal, she knew she would have to do something and perhaps taking her out of school was not the answer. She called the school and apologised to the Principal for accusing them of having a regime of any kind and asked if he had any suggestions as to what could be the problem. He suggested a child psychologist that the school had used in the past who might get to the bottom of the problem. Sam’s mother froze at the word ‘bottom’ and guiltily remembered the red and inflamed little bottom that she’d inflicted on her darling little seven year-old all those months ago. The problem was that she was torn. Torn between doing the right thing for her daughter and torn between the overall pleasures the family now enjoyed. Was she being selfish? Was she in denial? Was it really that awful to have a happy child rather than an aggressive terror that upset everyone? Neighbours who in the past had crossed the street to avoid Sammy were now happy to see her winning smile and cute clothing, and when she and her brother were out together everyone commented on how adorable they both looked “…and so well behaved.” But, as she got older and grew up, her mother realized that she wouldn’t be able to keep her as a toddler for ever. She shouldn’t be washing diapers and changing her children even if she was actually enjoying doing so. This was going to be harder than she thought. There was no doubt that her children were at an age where all this was OK and it didn’t look that strange but could she really see her kids still running around in colourful diapers when they got into their teens? She wavered but eventually came to a conclusion: No, the child psychologist was the way to go and perhaps sort out Sammy’s problem once and for all. ***** Part 4 Samantha slipped effortlessly into her teens, probably because she had no idea what being a teenager meant. She may have grown in size but her mind was still that of a toddler; she wore what a toddler liked to wear and, despite everything, was still dressed in diapers. The psychiatrists (yes, psychiatrists plural), had been useless. The one the school recommended thought it was just a phase and, even after repeated visits, couldn’t come up with a suitable answer as to why Sam was stuck in such a childish regression. Reluctantly her mommy had admitted to the doctor that she had severely spanked her but that couldn’t explain such a dramatic turn of events, could it? The psychiatrist had doubted that such action would have made a prolonged impression and concluded that she was just happy being a little girl again. This didn’t help anyone, except the doctor’s continued fees, so, when Sam’s daddy had got promoted and they moved to another city, they sought a second opinion. However, this doctor, with an array of letters and certificates after his name, was similarly useless. They tried several methods of changing Sam’s routine, dress, behaviour but now, because no school would take someone her age acting like she did, mommy had her at home full time. Between them the new psychiatrist and her mommy adopted new strategies to reach into Sam’s ‘little’ head but all they got in return where smiles, giggles and wet diapers. * Meanwhile, Nathan was also rapidly growing up and had become quite a ten year-old handful in his own right. Not that he was anything like Sammy had been at seven; he was successful at school in both academic work and athletics, captaining the school’s soccer team. He was popular and always in demand from school friends, neighbours and teachers, nothing was too much trouble for him to try and undertake. Having said that, his main priority was still his ‘baby’ sister, who, despite everything, he adored and who he spent time with still dressing as she did in her protection. It was strange that he’d never grown out of that desire and he’d told his mother at one point that it was a real connection he had with his sweet sister that he hoped would never change. It had never occurred to either parent that Nathan’s desire for diapers should be spoken about to the psychiatrists, it was just thought it was something a loving brother did for his ‘baby’ sister. He was now of the opinion that she was born as a ‘toddler’ and that is all he remembered of her, being fun, childish and loving. He never recalled the nasty things she used to do to him when she was angry or simply out of control, he only ever remembered her as she is now… an older sister who just happened to be a dependent little baby, who he doted on. The move to a different city also meant that Samantha’s parents could also start anew and didn’t have to come up with any reason for their daughter’s ‘problem’. Any new colleague, neighbour, doctor just assumed that they had a daughter who was ‘slow’. Perhaps damaged in some way or perhaps from birth, Sam’s parents never made any excuses or gave any reasons so it was left to the individual to come up with their own diagnosis for Sam’s condition. Nearly always it was sympathetic and people were genuinely entranced by such a happy family, who looked good, were perfectly behaved and had a son who was so obviously concerned for his sister’s wellbeing. Yes, in many ways they had become the perfect new caring neighbours and ones who were a delight to be around. * Sam always looked sweet and childlike now her mommy was making her clothes and dressing her in that ‘special’ way that was so charming. Around the house she was still mainly dressed in colourful diapers and plastic pants, with a pretty little t-shirt with a cartoon or animal print on the front. Sam had developed a love for kittens so her room and most of her clothes had the delightful little depictions of the creatures on everything. Even her plastic pants had little pink kittens chasing a ball of pink string running all over them and she looked so cute. Even though she was definitely growing taller and developing she would cry and sulk if she wasn’t in her diaper. And, if she was wearing diapers, so did her caring and considerate brother, who continued to be selfless when it came to making his sister not appear ‘different’. Because the doctors had been hopeless in treating Sam, her mommy and daddy had just decided they would make the best of the situation. There was nothing they could do that they hadn’t tried and nothing had worked. The only time that smile came back onto their daughter’s face is when she was back in her protection and her brother was playing some fabulous game with her. Her parents had settled back into making the most of a… not bad situation… and were enjoying the pleasure their ten and ‘two’ year-old gave them. * Two weeks after Sammy’s thirteenth birthday she woke up grumpy most unlike the way she usually greeted the day. The smile had disappeared, her teddy bear was thrown on the floor, her bed clothes were in complete disarray and, for the first time in almost six years, she hadn’t woken up wet. Sat on the side of her bed wearing just a cute t-shirt and thick protection Sam was in no mood for silliness. She screamed for her mother, who was just about to wake her, and demanded to know why she was dressed in such a “stupid, stupid, babyish fashion?” Her mother was taken by surprise at this aggressive behaviour and tried to placate her ‘little morning ray of sunshine’ but Sam was having none of it. She ripped herself out of her plastic pants, little kittens suddenly needing more than a ball of sting to run after, as she tugged at her thick, well-pinned night time diaper. The normally placid routine was replaced by a furious teenager who wanted answers and wasn’t content with soothing words from her mother. Eventually removing her diaper it fell to the floor dry but with something else that hadn’t been foreseen. * Even though she was now a teenager Samantha’s mommy had never thought to tell her daughter about growing up and the onset of menstruation. To everyone she had been this cute little child, full of fun and happiness, it was felt unnecessary to burden her with tales about growing up but, here she was, blood in her diaper, furious and seething about something her mother hadn’t seen for, well, over six years. Hearing the commotion Nathan walked into his sister’s bedroom dressed in exactly the same nightwear that she had been wearing and stood at the door waiting for his mother to explain what was happening. Sam saw her ‘stupid little baby brother’ still wearing diapers nervously hovering by the door and called out what a ‘big stupid baby’ he was. Her mother didn’t know what to do or say as Sam, now naked, swept past her and checked her closet. She pulled out all the childish clothing, screaming abuse at whomever it was that had stolen and changed her clothes for all this, baby stuff. She pulled the sweet little dresses off their hangers and threw them to the floor in disgust and demanded to know where her ‘proper’ clothes were. Her mother was still trying to calm her down and still talking to her like she was a two year-old. Sam looked at her mother in disgust and sarcastically told her to try and speak like a grown up for a change… it might be OK for the likes of him (and she pointed to a very panicky brother still unsure of what was going on) he may enjoy baby talk but she called emphatically… I’m a big girl. Just like that, the seven year-old Samantha was back and it felt like she had returned with a vengeance. * Her mother tried to explain that she’d been ‘ill’ and that she’d been kept in diapers because she was wetting everywhere. Sam wasn’t having any of this nonsense and demanded to know where her clothes were, she couldn’t even find her panties and wanted to get dressed for school. Despite her pleading for her to ‘just listen’ Sam was not in a mood for listening to anyone. Her mother thought the only solution was to spank her to make her behave and she pulled her across her lap and set about a hard spank to Sam’s wriggling bottom. Now being a bigger and stronger thirteen year-old, the process wasn’t as simple as it once was and Sam was able to wriggle free and for the first time in her life, struck out at her mother. She screamed that if she ever tried to smack her again she’d regret it and stormed off to the bathroom past her younger brother who was now suddenly standing with a quivering bottom lip and in his own very wet diaper. The unfolding scene had upset him and it was if he had suddenly been catapulted back to a time he’d tried his best to subdue. That awful person who had just tried to hit his mother was no longer the sweet little sister he adored but a bully he was afraid of. He may have grown up himself but unexpectedly that sad and scared little boy reappeared and so had his real need for diapers. The whole scene had become a nightmare and the warm flow that suddenly engulfed his diaper produced a tremor which made him burst into tears. * With Sammy having locked herself in the bathroom, her mother went to see to her shocked son. She was surprised to see him so distraught and even more surprised at his heavily sagging diaper. He’d not wet himself since, well, since Sammy had started wearing diapers. He took some cajoling but eventually she was able to get him cleaned up and dressed for school. He seemed very unsure and confused and needed constant approval from his mother to know he was doing the right thing. Thankfully his friend arrived and they went off to catch the school bus together so that was at least one problem solved. Eventually, Sam realised she couldn’t stay in the bathroom all day and emerged to be told that she’d been ill for quite some time and that the only clothes available to her now were those she had thrown on the floor. Even to Samantha this entire experience was a bit debilitating and her thought process missed an opportunity to find clothes that fit. She could have raided her mother’s closet, or even stolen some of her brothers clothes, however, neither of these options presented themselves in her confused mind. So, despite her arguing that she could never wear such things her mother insisted that until they could go shopping they were all that was available. # Reluctantly she fastened herself into a disposable (she wouldn’t let her mother anywhere near her), pulled up a pink diaper cover that looked more like panties than plastic pants and slipped over her head what she regarded as the least offensive looking dress she could find. It was short and still showed off her padded bottom but at least it wasn’t too obvious. It would have to do until they made it to the mall, which she was insisting they set off for immediately as she had no intention of wearing ‘this’ (she flapped at her dress in revulsion) for a second longer than necessary. Mentally she may have still been a seven year-old but Sam soon realised that she was much bigger than she remembered. She had no recollection of this so-called ‘illness’ but surmised that her mother must be telling her the truth. However, why she should have been dressed in such a babyish fashion she could only guess and her seven year-old brain had come to the conclusion that her parents had wanted her that way. She was easier to control as a baby, she had no opinions and what better way to stop her from arguing… stomping… screaming…??? As the car sped towards the city’s main mall Sam suddenly thought about how she used to be, well how she was, well, now she was confused. Quite a lot of her past was filling her head and as she understood she began to smile. She liked being the centre of everything; she liked that the world revolved around her and her opinions, she liked that she could ruffle up neighbours and teachers and other kids just by behaving in an aggressive way. She liked getting her own way, even if it disrupted everybody else’s life. This was a lot to take in as she peered sideways at her intense looking mother desperately trying to concentrate on driving and wondering what to expect now she had her ‘vindictive’ daughter back. In such a short space of time Sam had gone from a toddler, to a seven year-old and now an arrogant teen, she was growing up fast but there again, she thought, she had quite a bit of time to catch up on. * Sam was appalled to find that the diaper was quite comfortable to wear as the drive neared its conclusion. She could see the mall in the distance and it was only the amount of traffic that was hindering their progress but found that she was unintentionally wriggling around in her protection. The smooth, padded feel of the plastic panties against the car seat material was making her feel strangely happy. She soon cut that train of thought out. She wasn’t about to regress again but she was interested in knowing why, with a diaper taped in place, she should now feel a little bit more contented. However, there were a million other things going on in her rapidly expanding mind and getting to the clothes store was the priority. # It didn’t take her long to get a complete new wardrobe of trendy clothes. She may have given the shop assistants a hard time as she slipped into an array of different items, throwing things on the floor as she looked at something new. She saw what other girls her age were wearing and copied them adding her own touches here and there. In less than two hours she was dressed as a normal thirteen year-old girl, in jeans and patterned top, panties, platform shoes and clutching a quilted purple purse that seemed to be all the rage. She wanted to immediately throw away the outfit she arrived in but her mother put it in a bag to take home… diaper and all. Sam couldn’t see the point in keeping it but then said that perhaps her ‘baby brother’ could wear it, as it was far more ‘his style’ than hers. There was no way Sam was going to carry it, she had more than enough bags crammed with new clothing, so her mother had that responsibility when they returned to the car for the journey home. Sam didn’t know any of the songs on the car radio and was surprised to hear baby songs when she pushed the CD button. The look of horror on Sam’s face was equalled by her mother’s huge audible sigh at the loss of recent happier excursions they had taken together. She pressed the eject button then watched as it slowly emerged from the slot, then with a shrug and another sigh tossed the offending silver disc onto the rear seat. * Back home Sam wasted no time in emptying her closet of everything she disliked, which was everything. Her cute, newly made dresses, tops, skirts, together with the collection of nappies, disposables, plastic pants, wipes, powder etc. all went in a big pile, which she cheekily placed on her brother’s bed. She told her mother that he was the only baby now so she would have no further need for any of it and, slamming her bedroom, door shouted that she expected to be treated as an adult in future. The stroppy seven year-old had turned into a very demanding teenager who expected everything but wasn’t prepared to do anything for it. Her mother called her husband to tell him of this new development and both were sobbing at the realization of what they had lost and knew that hoping things might be different this time, was just an act of denial. They thought they knew what was coming but a thirteen year-old’s demands are louder and more confrontational than either was comfortable with. Threats had no meaning, discipline was hard to exact because all Sam kept on reminding them of was - they had kept her as a baby for six years and she was determined to make them pay. Meanwhile, in what seemed a very short space of time, her out-going younger brother, antagonized by his demon sister, regressed almost totally back to being a terrified toddler. The constant ridicule, her sneering, together with her scary anger had that affect - he didn’t want to wear diapers on a night but for some reason had started wetting himself. If Samantha was in the vicinity, just seeing her made him lose any control over his bladder. The flow would be instant and unhindered… there was only one solution and that was for him to wear protection. It got so bad that he was even wearing diapers to school, which some of the kids were only too happy to ridicule him about, which in turn made him even more nervy and scared. The traumatising didn’t stop at school. His loving sister making sure he knew his place, and she reasoned, as his parents had wanted a baby so much, he should take her place. It wasn’t hard to make that a possibility as Nathan seemed to have returned to being completely and utterly dominated by his ‘caring and loving’ sister. Her ‘baby’ clothes quickly found another recipient for their use and Sam would enjoy making sure her baby brother was appropriately dressed. Samantha was once again happy with the return to her status as the centre of attention. She ruled the house, though every night both her parents wished for a return of their ‘little’ daughter… their wish wasn’t granted. Every time Nathan had an accident or was seen to wet his pants, Sam would be there with a cruel word to mock him and insisted he be treated as she had been - those cute little childishly designed clothes her mother had made especially for her looked equally good on her diaper-clad brother. Friends and neighbours who previously thought they were just the ideal family were treated to a constant tirade from this precocious and horrible young lady who had turned into a rebellious and frankly jumped up, self-opinionated she-devil. Samantha revelled in her growing celebrity and enjoyed taking her cowering little baby brother anywhere she could ridicule him and force him to walk around often wearing embarrassing ‘frilly’ protection. He was always too scared to fight her or argue with her or say anything to her… she took control of him as easily as she had taken back control of the household. Despite attempts to get her to revisit a doctor or psychologist she simply refused any such suggestion. They, she decided, had made her into a little baby for too many years so now, it was her time and her teen years were going to be a terrible experience for everyone except her. The blood in her diaper had been the spur to grow up. Now, she was having the time of her life, whilst making everyone else’s a complete misery. ***************** The End
  10. Jordy's Story (re-post)

    Jordy’s Story It was the sheer smoothness Jordy liked; the strangely slippery, silky, sensual feeling he got as he ran his hand over the material. His breathing changed as the glossy texture sent sensation after sensation to his already overloaded brain, all the while the tips of his fingers continued to trace around the bulge beneath. Undoubtedly, the slickness of his padded desire slipping beneath him as he wriggled in utter contentment made for the warm and snuggly world in which he found himself immersed. A deep sigh of satisfaction escaped his lips because of the way he always felt at these times when he could indulge in his greatest pleasure. He had no idea where, when or why this desire for nappies and plastic pants had begun to manifest itself but now, at 22 years old and living on his own, it was something he was happy to indulge in. Tracing the contours of the disposable beneath caused unbelievable excitement, he could feel himself leaking his juices but held back from completing the action, after all, these days there was no rush. Since he left the family home to take up a new job in a different town he was enjoying this new found freedom that was now available to him whenever he desired it. He turned over onto his stomach and gently rocked himself against the mattress of his new bed, his hands now paying attention to his huge padded bottom. Again, the silken thrill as his feather light touches made him squirm and shudder in the act of self-gratification. Jordy was fifteen when, on impulse, he’d obtained his first ever pack of disposables and a pair of plastic pants. On many occasions he’d passed the display in the kiddie aisle of his local store, the one with all the disposables stacked up and the happy smiling faces of all those babies and toddlers looking so joyful. Obviously, they were only happy because of what they were wearing and the nappies or pull-ups or plastic pants appeared to fit the bill. At least in Jordy’s head that was the conclusion he came to and he wanted to be as happy as they were. He’d nervously wandered around the store on that particular visit and timed it so that there were no other customers around to see his purchases. The old assistant beeped the items through with barely any acknowledgment but even so Jordy was out of there so fast he hardly had time to pick up his change and receipt. Once home he hid the objects at the back of his closet and waited until bedtime before he would try for the first time the thing that was now an overwhelming obsession. He remembered that he’d had these strong urges for quite some time but couldn’t quite recollect when exactly they’d started. He’d tried to wrack his brain to see if he had any memory of wanting such things when he was a toddler or while he was at school but his memory bank was blank so probably it wasn’t then. There was a time when he was ten years-old and very ill where his parents had nursed him gently back to health but he had no recollection of nappies or plastic pants being involved, but then again, he was in a coma for such a long time he really had no idea what arrangements had been made. Perhaps it was a subconscious thing? Perhaps he was dressed in such a way during that time but just never realised it, well, except on some other level? Whatever the reason, these questions would have to wait. He was enjoying the here and now far too much to be distracted as he turned over again and slowly traced the top of his leg between flesh and plastic – GOD, that was so spine-shakingly erotic. That first time: He’d decided to have an early night so with a yawn excused himself, kissed his loving parents goodnight and slowly sauntered up to his room. There was no lock on his bedroom door but as far as he knew, neither of his parents ever entered without knocking first. However, he realised that the most risky time for getting caught was from when he got naked and eventually slipped himself into the disposable. His hand shook in anticipation as he opened the package. It shook even more as he slowly unfurled the soft crinkly item and spread it out on his bed. The crinkle sounding so loud but in fact was soft and hardly audible. It took him a few moments to work out which way round it was supposed to go but eventually lined up his bare bottom with the expanded object. He sat himself down and enjoyed the first sensations as the soft fabric greeted his skin. He loved the feeling but as this was the most chancy time for unexpected visitors unfortunately couldn’t spend too much time experiencing the unbelievable rush he was getting. He pulled the supple fabric up between his legs and again the soft, welcoming hug and satisfying crinkle sent shivers through his body. The tapes were eagerly released from their protective covers as he gently manoeuvred them into place. He was snug, very snug and unbelievably happy as he viewed himself in the mirror; he looked sensational, the bright white fabric contrasting with his slightly tanned youthful body. He quickly slipped over the plastic pants and couldn’t believe how they appeared to hold everything together in such a sexy, shimmering way. He ran his hands over it all, the texture giving him an immediate hard on and then he instantaneously shot his load. He staggered towards his bed as the extent of this unexpected orgasm sent him reeling; he felt faint, excited, bewildered and shaking with the aftermath of such a powerful release, one like he’d never experienced before. It was a forceful initiation and one that completely wiped him out. As he sought the comfort of his bed he’d hardly been able to pull a sheet over himself before his exhaustion swallowed him and he fell into a deep sleep. He couldn’t remember sleeping so heavily and probably would have slept on if his mother hadn’t come in to wake him for school. Thankfully the sheet had stayed wrapped around him so his secret was hopefully still safe. However, he could see his PJs hanging over the end of the bed, which his mother must have noticed but nothing was said so Jordy waited until she left the room before he dare make any move. Again he felt the vulnerability of his position and the fact that if he’d had a restless sleep his night time ‘interest’ could so easily have been discovered. He lay there thinking and slipped his hand beneath the covers. The thick and slippery welcome was all he needed to be transported back to last night’s surprising climax and once again his cock took on a life of its own. However, his mum calling to him to get up or he’d be late meant he couldn’t fulfil his pleasure but for a brief moment wondered if he should wear his protection under his school uniform. The idea was very appealing but the practicalities meant it wasn’t possible. His tight school trousers would not hide the outline, the crinkle as he walked would be noticeable to anyone and everyone and, and this was perhaps the main thing, how was he going to get changed for sport, which was a double period in the afternoon, without his mates copping an eyeful. No, he decided, best leave this particular activity for the bedroom. Reluctantly he stored his ‘special’ items away and got himself ready for the day ahead. Despite sport being his favourite subject at school; he played well, was quite athletic and was captain of his team, his thoughts were now totally targeted on his nappy and plastic pants and what they would be doing to him when he got home. Throughout his final years at school and later at college, he would maintain his interest in his protection. He began to ration himself as the cost of disposables soared and he found he didn’t quite have the funds to keep up a steady supply. That all changed once he got a job, a well-paid job, that he applied for fresh out of college. Initially he thought the downside would be that he wouldn’t be able to live at home, the work being in another city a hundred and fifty miles from where he lived but the salary was better than originally stated and of course the other benefit was – total freedom. So, now in his sixth month with a great career, a nice bachelor pad and finances to support his growing fetish, those babies on the displays in the kiddie aisle were correct – a nappy does make you unbelievably happy. Jordy wriggled in complete satisfaction, his plastic pants slipping nicely around him and his thick disposable hugging and controlling the long but inevitable release he was anticipating. He could hardly breathe such was the expectation as his hand slid smoothly over the bulge. His heartrate increased, his breathing almost stopped, the temperature rose and his body trembled. “Yeeeeesssss, oh God… mmmmm… ooohh fu…. aAAAAAGGGHHH. Yes, yes, yes…” ***************************************************** What was your first introduction to nappies and plastic pants like?
  11. 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
  12. The Boss’s Bizarre Justice A while ago, I was at an all-time low. At 23 years old I’d got myself into a ridiculous amount of debt and could see no way out of my predicament. The flash clothes and the other expensive gifts I’d lavished on myself had fulfilled an ego-boosting need in me… but only for a short while. Now, I felt stupidly guilty about wasting so much money on stuff I didn’t need or want. I saw a short-term solution to my problems when I ‘borrowed’ some money from the works account. After all, although still only a junior, I was a trusted employee and had access to all manner of finances within the company and had convinced myself I could pay it back before anyone noticed. Unfortunately, for me it was at a time when the firm was being audited and the boss re-checked the company accounts. The ‘missing’ amount was so obvious and so was the culprit. Consequently, to save a long process of denial I admitted what I’d done and the boss said he had no options but to fire me and call the police. I asked if there wasn’t an alternative as I was up to my eyes in debt and I couldn’t see another employer giving me a job if his references said that I’d embezzled from the company. I was desperate to keep my job and literally begged him to come up with an alternative to my being sacked. Mr. Phanasious thought for a while and said there was an alternative… indeed, an old-fashioned cure for what I’d done. He said he was prepared not to fire me if I agreed to his suggestion. The money was to be paid back instantly and if I couldn’t do that, my wage would be garnished by 10% until the money was recovered. I agreed, as I knew that if he’d gone to the police I might have ended up with a record or even worse, sent to prison. I thanked him for being so understanding but he said that there was more. I was unbelievably relieved I could keep my job so I agreed that I’d do anything before knowing what the conditions were. He was very stern when he informed me that the only reason he wouldn’t go to the police was on the requirement that I had to take six strokes with a cane across my bare bottom every night after work until the debt was paid. I was shocked. Even at school, I’d never received corporal punishment, my parents had never agreed with that form of chastisement either but now… well, I had little option, if this was the price I had to pay for my stupidity. He also claimed it would concentrate my obligation on paying the debt, although, like any monetary business transaction, interest would be added to what I owed. Besides, when the alternative could mean prison, and what was said to go on in such places, I was probably getting off fairly easily. I reluctantly agreed and hung around admin until everyone except Mr. Phanasious had left for the night. Once alone in his office he locked the door and told me to strip to just my underwear. I was nervous and apprehensive of what was about to happen. My Greek boss was a great deal bigger than me; six feet tall, hirsute and a body that any professional rugby player would be proud of… even if he was well into his 50s. He looked quite strong and more than capable of taking care of himself if anyone caused him any trouble. I was scared of what this powerfully built man could inflict on my body but, while almost naked and held in this older man’s gaze, strangely, I began to get aroused. He walked up behind me carrying a cane he’d retrieved from a cupboard, pulled my y-fronts down to my knees, and began to fondle my arse, cock and balls. I immediately got even harder and a strange thrill ran through my body. He then ordered me to bend over the end of the desk. As I’ve said Mr. Phanasious is a big, tough, no-nonsense type of boss, I was at his mercy, and now, in this passive and vulnerable position, it was turning me on. Then I felt the first sting as he bought the cane down across my arse cheeks. I screamed blue murder as I hadn’t expected it to hurt so much or to be delivered with such force. After six cruel agonizing swats, which brought tears to my eyes, I wasn’t turned on any longer. However, as I raised myself up and rubbed my flaming backside he told me my punishment hadn’t finished. I was ordered to lie out on his desk, which wasn’t as easy as it sounded because the recently delivered stripes across my bum cheeks were very painful. He helped by pulling off my underpants and once I was embarrassingly naked he pointed to my still semi hard cock and said that just wouldn’t do. He seemed angry that I’d got excited and put the second part of his plan into position. From his desk draw he took out a thick piece of what looked like towel fabric and folded it and placed it under my sore bum. He then told me that from now on, I was no longer the office ‘junior’ but the office’ baby’ and should be dressed as such whenever I was at work. He would check both when I arrived and before I left to make sure I was keeping to my side of the arrangement. He made it quite clear that if, for any reason I didn’t like this, or that I didn’t comply, he would quite happily hand me over to the police to deal with. With my arse on fire, he was quick to follow through with the second part of my punishment… although I was embarrassed at my position (laid out on his desk in a diaper) the thick soft padding had eased the pain a little and I began to appreciate this version of my boss’s rough justice. As I pulled up my trousers over the bulky diaper he locked my underpants in a cabinet and said that when the debt was paid I could retrieve them but until then, he expected me to comply with the new house rules. My movements were slow, as I was both in shock and negotiating the huge bulge in my pants and between my legs. He helped me to my feet and offered his hand to shake. Staring directly into my weepy eyes he asked if I understood what was now required of me. I nodded. He wanted more. “Say it.” My head was dealing with the painful and inflamed bottom but I knew, as his hand grasped mine, that I would have to confirm and agree to his demands. “Sir, I know I’ve done wrong. I apologize and accept without question the condition for me to remain with the company. I will wear whatever the company deems appropriate and that my junior status has been reduced to that as… er… er...” I was finding it difficult to actually say the word, “…baby.” He quickly shook and released my hand as if I’d been dismissed. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning bright and early for inspection,” he looked darkly at me, “Don’t even think about absconding or wearing anything under your trousers other than a diaper.” He pointed his huge muscular finger at me. “That will remind you, every moment you are at this company what you have done, the shame you have brought on yourself and your family and… whilst you are here and on my time, you are no longer allowed use of the bathroom. You will come to me when you need changing. Is all that understood?” Sheepishly I replied, “Yes sir,” and slowly ambled out of his office. On the way home, and with my sore arse and bulky reminder, I began to think it strange that he had this fabric diaper already in his draw. Had he known that I’d agree to his terms or, perhaps, there had been others who’d broken the rules in the past and this was how he chastised us all? Maybe there were others in the office who were also made to wear the same as I had to, though I’d never noticed. # It’s now the third month of my sentence and I seem to have hardly paid off any of my debt… but the punishment continues. Bizarrely, I’m beginning to love being the baby of this hulking brute of a man. Even though the caning and humiliation (I feel that everyone can tell I’m wearing a diaper to work even if they don’t know why) are painful I feel a connection, which of course may well be just in my head. I had started to appear regularly at his office asking to be changed but he has now added a pair of plastic pants to my humiliation to hold my soaked diaper in longer. The constant rustle and crinkle as I move makes me shiver in embarrassment but I dare not say anything to any of the others in case they tell or think I got off lightly. They are a very loyal bunch of workers to the boss and he is very loyal to them. I’m sure if my transgression got out it would be them who were the trouble for me and not Mr. Phanasious. The fact that he has taken the time to personally deal with my offense and offer his own style of bizarre justice, I feel privileged to have such a boss. In fact I’d say my whole personality, temperament and work performance has improved, although I no longer deal with actual money any more, my concentration level and productivity have certainly increased. On payday each month my salary is docked the agreed amount but with interest on my ‘agreed loan’, and the way things are going, I might never get to pay off my debt and besides, I quite like the diaper. I never take it off except when I have to receive my caning, which doesn’t seem quite so fierce these days. I think that maybe, on that first occasion, he was making a point of what it could be like. I even wear a diaper at home and where ever I go as a constant reminder of what I did and what now really matters… to respect people… not things. ### Part 2 Mr. Phanasious keeps an ever watchful eye on everything that I do. I suppose I can’t blame him but I really feel he needn’t bother, I am a reformed character. He’s made sure of that. However, over the past few weeks things have changed a tad. The daily ‘six-of-the-best’ with the cane has given way to twenty on one day of the week after work. He doesn’t tell me which day so that keeps me both on my toes and pretty apprehensive, meanwhile, the diapers are getting slightly bulkier and plastic pants definitely noisier. He called me into his office late one Monday afternoon and told me of the alterations to my punishment. It was obvious that this change of play wasn’t open for discussion and that what he’d decided went. However, he did say that he had noticed a vast improvement in my attitude to work and was impressed by this dramatic change… then, as everyone else had gone home, delivered the twenty swats to my naked behind. Once they were over (and I’m afraid to admit it but I was crying like a baby) he re-taped my disposable, added another and pulled a pair of thick, clear but very crinkly plastic pants out of his draw to drag over them. “You appear to have got too used to the diaper, perhaps you are liking the situation?” Said with his slight Greek accent it felt more like an accusation. He looked at me for a reaction and I was desperate not to give anything away. Thankfully I was still wiping the tears from my eyes so I think I avoided any sign that he might be correct. “You need to know that you did wrong. Every minute of every day that you are at this company… you need to know you did wrong and that such deeds do not go unpunished.” He was being firm but I’d got used to this form of lecturing and wasn’t going to risk either the job or my freedom by answering back or disagreeing. “Yes sir, sorry sir.” I looked at him as miserably as I could and I suppose my wet and tear-stained face helped me sell the point. “I try to do better. Every day I try… to thank you for your… er… erm… understanding. I appreciate all that you are doing and have done for me and I am… very… very grateful.” With a noise which seemed to fill his office he pulled me to my feet. The plastic pants sounded as if they had a crackling life of their own as I went to put on my trousers. It was difficult; the bulkiness of the thicker diaper and the chunky plastic pants making it almost impossible for them to fasten… not to mention my blistered butt. I left his office for home still gripping my pants together. It was a long journey and one that drew attention to my unwieldy pantie line. There was no way that anyone who might have been interested couldn’t have determined what my problem was but, although I got plenty of people looking (and I think smiling), no one said a word to my face. Once I got through my front door I gladly let go of my pants and as they dropped to the floor I felt relief flood through me and, I have no idea why, I pissed myself. This was stupid because I was only feet away from my own bathroom but, nonetheless I did and my diaper expanded under the torrent. I waddled to my bedroom and gazed in the mirror at what I’d become. The shiny see-thru plastic noisily accompanied each step but, and this was the strange part for me, I didn’t dislike the image I saw staring back. I pulled off my shirt and tie, kicked off my shoes and socks and stood naked apart from my ‘punishment’ looking in the mirror. My body looked OK, it wouldn’t win any Mr Universe title but I wasn’t carrying too much extra weight. My hair was short but natural, not filled with product. I kept my face clean shaven so I still had a sort of boyish quality, which only now, wearing a thick diaper and plastic pants, I was beginning to appreciate. Becoming the company ‘baby’ (along with the cane) had been a revelation. It had opened up thoughts, feelings and possibilities that I’d never imagined. That big baby looking back was, I had begun to realize, having the most productive time of his life. Yes, even with the cane making me cry like a kid again, I had never been better or felt that I could attain anything if I wanted. What Mr. Phanasious may or may not have realized was that this ‘baby thing’ was like a rebirth and I could start my life all over again. If this is what it took to make me better, to give my life a complete overhaul and simply be a fuller, more responsive human being, then it was worth it. I hadn’t been bullshitting the boss, I really was only just beginning to comprehend that what I said to him I’d meant. I was trying hard and, with the thick diaper between my legs and the sensation of it every time I walked or moved or sat down, made me appreciate that unexpected new development in my personality. Yes, that big wet baby staring back at me needed to be seen for what he was… and in truth… I loved what he was and what he might become. I spent the rest of the evening wearing just that noisy, squishy outfit and thanked my lucky stars I’d been given this extra chance. Even once I’d gone to bed I let myself fill the diaper even more and by the morning, the thing had expanded so much that the plastic pants were stretched to such a capacity that they looked like I was wearing an immense shiny, slippery balloon. I’d bought the same brand of disposables that the boss used so I had a ready supply of my own and once I was showered I slipped into exactly the same as he’d dressed me in. It did feel strange. After a night of thick, wet diapers, wearing clean dry ones just wasn’t the same. I wondered if I should add a third to make them reach a similar bulk as the ones I’d just taken off, but I was going to be inspected as soon as I got into work so it was up to Mr. Phanasious to make any such decisions. I loved the crinkle, rustling noise I made as I walked or sat on the bus. I wasn’t sure how many people could hear it but to me it was loud and obvious. A woman who sat next to me smiled as I moved over slightly to give her more room and I detected an expression of crinkle recognition as she cheekily looked down at my crotch before quickly resuming her forward stare. She did have a smile on her face for the rest of the journey before I had to get off. Even then, as I excused myself and she moved her legs for me to pass, the rustling was even more apparent (and now directly in her face) I saw her hand waiver for a brief moment… I think she almost patted my padded bottom as I went by. I turned to thank her and we were both grinning and that set me up for the day. Another, unexpected triumph, I’d made someone I didn’t know smile. For a brief moment I thought about my girlfriend, well, my ex-girlfriend who, as soon as the money had dried up suddenly found an excuse to leave. No gifts, no sex. No money, no girlfriend. At the time I was devastated at how easy it had been for her to use me and then discard me but eventually I began to realize that she was treating me the same way I treated my ill-gotten gains. They were useful and convenient but ultimately I didn’t need them. She must have felt the same way. I suppose, the fact that I now had no distractions to my life was a mixed blessing, and I certainly don’t know what she’d have thought about my striped bum and diapers. Thankfully I only had myself to worry about on that score and I’d decided that I wouldn’t pursue the couple of work colleagues that I quite fancied. I arrived at the boss’s door ready for my morning inspection. His secretary, who I wasn’t sure how much she knew, if anything, smiled and waved me through because I was expected. In his office there was a visitor. “Good morning,” he looked at me with those steely eyes, “I’d like to introduce you to my wife.” I was surprised at this level of familiarity, meeting his missus was a huge deal and I thought how strange it was that she should want to meet me. “Good morning Mrs Phanasious,” with a slight bow I shook her hand, “a pleasure to meet you.” She smiled a very winning smile. She was about ten years younger than her husband, very feminine and beautifully made-up and surprisingly her hand shake wasn’t some feeble limp grip… she was definitely a force in her own right. “The pleasure’s all mine Georgie.” It was an unexpected response. In the office they called me George, or Mr Miller, no one had ever called me Georgie, well apart from my mother when I was a child. I was a little bit discomforted by this overfriendliness and immediately I felt a cold shiver run through my body and, at the same time, very uncomfortable standing there in my diapers. Before I had chance to respond Mr Phanasious continued. “My wife is the reason I didn’t call the police when we discovered the amount of money you… ‘borrowed’…from the company.” That cold uneasy feeling was now changing to a hot flush covering my body and I could feel the sweat flooding from every one of my pores. “It was she who convinced me to give you a second chance.” He kept that stare on me as I avoided my eyes meeting hers. I didn’t want to see if there was any expression of triumph or superiority or… The boss continued, “She came up with your rehabilitation - firm but fair.” My diaper was getting hot and I wriggled uncomfortably in it aware that they both would notice my discomfort. “I’ve been telling her about your fantastic progress,” He seemed genuinely pleased about my attitude change and how well I was doing at work. “She wanted to meet you herself.” I plucked up the courage to look at her directly. “Er… thank you.” That didn’t really sound enough, so I repeated myself. “Thank you.” She smiled but I couldn’t quite decipher what that meant. I really was feeling most awkward and my anxiety level had risen considerably. Neither of which were helped when Mr Phanasious said. “OK, drop your trousers let me inspect the stripes and your diaper.” I looked aghast at him and then across to her but he simply repeated his instruction and I could do nothing but reluctantly let my pants fall to the floor. ### Part 3 I averted my eyes like I normally did as the boss checked me out. He pulled down the back of my diaper and inspected the effects of the previous days caning. The ‘mmm’ sound he made I guess meant he thought it was all good but all I could remember were the twenty painful strikes that had left me sobbing. I got a lump in my throat as I recalled how abjectly I had cried but knew I deserved it. I caught Mrs Phanasious looking on with interest and concern so, as he pulled up my diaper after finishing his assessment, I was wondering why this lady had come to my protection and saved me from a probable criminal record… and jail? I stood there under the gaze of my boss and his wife in just my thick diaper and crinkly plastic pants but I dare not, at least without permission, retrieve my trousers. At that moment his intercom buzzed and Mrs Parker, his secretary, announced that there was someone else to see him. He left the room and I was left with Mrs Phanasious who gave no indication I should pull up my pants so I remained standing as I was… embarrassed but determined not to rock the boat in any way. “Georgie,” she said in a quiet voice. “I hope you don’t mind me calling you that but… you… do look so cute and boyish dressed as you are.” I tried to hide the fact that I was uncomfortable with the entire scene. I shrugged my shoulders and muttered some sounds that I hoped meant I wasn’t concerned. She continued her strange and unusual stare as if she was appraising me and then spoke. “My husband spoke about you when he first employed you.” I stood in my diaper but realized just how badly I needed to piss. I hoped this chat wasn’t going to last too long. “He mentioned that he’d just taken on a very young, very bright new employee who he was convinced would lead the company into a new era of financial stability.” She waited for her words to sink in. “You can imagine how disappointed he was to eventually find that almost immediately the person he had put so much faith in had tried to rip him, and the company, off.” I think she was waiting for some reaction but in truth I didn’t know how to react. “He knew the company was losing money from somewhere but never expected it was down to you, and I suspect, he would never have checked on your involvement.” I wriggled noisily in my discomfort and her friendly tone changed ever so slightly. “The fact that you were so brazen and hardly covered your tracks hit him hard.” She appeared both calm and angry at the same time and I could tell that she was fighting another emotion as she went on. “My husband is very perceptive, he knows a wrong one when he sees one… but he didn’t see you. The fact that you cared so little after he put so much trust in you… he questioned his faith in people and his ability to spot and develop real talent,” she shook her head, “and even when the paper-trail led inevitably to you… he wouldn’t believe it.” I wriggled even more uncomfortably, the guilt hitting home. “The rest of the staff who would have to forego any bonuses… the possibilities of laying people, good hard working people, off… hit him badly.” My involvement in this crime, which, I had thought was all about money but was now shown to be about a whole lot more made me feel a complete loser. “Several times he’d picked up the phone to call the police but hoped for a different solution… he could see no way around getting the authorities involved and you being put away for your crime.” The realization I’d let so many people down made my heart beat faster and swallowing was becoming more difficult. Not just at this company but my parents, my sister, the other places where I worked. I had constantly under achieved any expectations; lied and cheated in the pursuit of money and things for my own stupid gratification and the weight of that guilt transformed into tears. Not only that but as I fell to the floor bawling my eyes out my bladder gave way and I began to fill my diaper. I was no longer in control of any of my waterworks so just curled up into the foetal position and let out the pent up flood of piss and emotion Mrs Phanasious came over and offered a few soothing words and stroked my padded bottom. She gave me time to calm down but in many ways I was just too ashamed to want to move at all. Even though I was wet, the fact that I was wearing my protection was offering me some strange and inexplicable comfort. I hugged myself into a tight ball, the slippery plastic and bulky diaper the only things I was really aware of. I wanted to hide, to sleep, to get escape from this awful thing I’d done so I closed my eyes tightly and hoped it would all go away. Eventually my tears subsided and I found myself being comforted in the arms of the woman whose husband I’d let down so badly. She was soothing me as she might have a baby or a toddler who’d just gone through some kind of trauma. I felt safe and relaxed and had no real idea how long I’d been there. Although my diaper felt cold and clammy and I knew I needed to change. Meanwhile, I had no recollection of taking my shirt and tie off, or my shoes and socks or losing my trousers because I was being held naked apart from my diaper. “Georgie. Georgie.” She was whispering trying to bring me back into the real world. I was in no rush to return. I snuggled down. I didn’t want to face any responsibilities and it felt safe where I was. “Georgie, I’m an Occupational Psychologist. I suggested that, if he still thought you were worth the effort, he might try a different strategy.” Her fingers stroking my head were gentle and caring. “I don’t know what your childhood was like but I thought perhaps you might want to start over again. My husband wondered about some kind of punishment, he didn’t want you thinking you could just do what you did with no consequences so…” I was listening and shivering at the same time. My body shook with tension at what she might say next. “I came up with this idea of… rehabilitation.” My head was spinning. Rehabilitation? Surely she meant punishment… a punishment that I had no alternative but to accept. The corporal punishment, the diapers… this wasn’t rehabilitation it was torture… and she had dreamt it up? I could feel anger and resentment growing in my stomach. I wanted to respond; shout, scream, reject all the accusations but her soft stroking of my hair and the gentle patting of my crinkly soaked diaper reminded me that I had done something wrong and deserved to be punished. “Because my husband thought you held so much promise we thought this alternative offered you a chance, one that was up to you to take or refuse. It might not have seemed so at the time, or perhaps since, but you chose correctly, I’m not sure jail would have been the best place for someone of your… sensitivities.” I couldn’t disagree and eventually I unfurled myself from her comforting touch. “Why the cane? Why the diapers? Was it just to humiliate me?” She shook her head. “You need to know that bad deeds need to be punished. Jail may have been the answer but I was hoping for something you might want to change yourself. The cane was to direct your thoughts, the diaper was to keep those thoughts in your head… and… if what my husband says is true… you have gone a long way yourself to make sure these simple… ideas… have worked.” I looked in both disbelief and relief that she was right. I’d come to the same conclusion myself only the previous night but I’d arrived at it from a different perspective. However, Mrs Phanasious added something more. “You appear to be on the right lines, going in the right direction but we don’t want you to falter. Too many people would be let down and needless to say, you would let down yourself.” I have always hated preachy people, people who think they know best, people who think they know better than I do what’s right for me… and I’ve always gone out of my way to prove those people wrong. It came as a bit of a shocker to realize that perhaps it was me who was wrong. In fact, now as I lay there in my diapered protection there was no ‘perhaps’ about it. I didn’t know everything, I wasn’t always right and I did need guidance, the type of guidance I’d rejected for most of my life. Her fingers strayed under the plastic pants and she could feel the wetness. “You need changing.” I didn’t do anything but lay there as she went and retrieved a fresh clean disposable. Like any good mother she removed the sodden mass, wiped the area dry, added some baby powder (I had no idea where that came from) and proceeded to fit me tightly into a diaper that felt soft and comfortable to wear. I was past any kind of embarrassment and just let her get on with it, which she was so much better at doing than either her husband or myself. I started giggling. My body shook with the tremors of deep throbbing laughter and I looked up at Mrs Phanasious with tears of joy running down my face. I was laughing at my own ‘preachy’ thoughts, my own abject realization of my worth… nothing. She smiled understandingly “The diapers are really just the symbol of a restart. As a child grows and learns, well, they are just a symbol of offering you the same opportunity, to start afresh. The fact that you have taken to them so well is very positive.” And then she hugged me. “Put you clothes back on and get back to work.” It felt like she was jovially reprimanding a child. Noisily I moved to redress and I smiled in acknowledgment of the rustling that accompanied every little movement. The diaper and plastic pants had become part of my ‘rehabilitation’ and I was in no hurry to discard them. In fact, I thought of them as a badge of honor, one that I’d had to earn to get back some kind of self-respect. They were now a very important part of who I was and what I wanted to become. I held my boss and his thoughtful wife in high regard for seeing something in me that needed help, direction and a future. They had done their bit in making me realize I might have more potential than I’d offered to anyone before but now, with my diaper firmly in place, I was going to try and be the best. “Thank you Mrs Phanasious,” I could hear the crackle as I moved towards the door, “Thank you… I won’t let you or Mr Phanasious down”. She smiled and nodded as I closed the door. “Good luck Georgie.” Mrs Phanasious sighed with relief. She was glad the way things were turning out but, like her husband, Georgie would need a keen eye kept on his progress. Nothing else about his ‘rehabilitation’ would change immediately because it appeared to be working and she was just glad that, for the moment anyway, he was onboard with the program. She was also very glad that the alternative, the Plan B, had he not been so compliant, didn’t have to be used; another paper-trail of misappropriation that would have led straight back to him… and a definite long prison sentence. The End #######
  13. 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. E