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  1. Billy’s Fault 1-4

    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 the watered down games and 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. # tbc
  2. Samantha’s lesson 1-4

    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, 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 accidentally 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 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 stroller. 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, her husband 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. **** TBC
  3. 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 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. ### to be continued....
  4. “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
  5. Jordy’s Story

    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 heart rate increased, his breathing almost stopped, the temperature rose and his body trembled. “Yeeeeesssss, oh God… mmmmm… ooohh fu…. aAAAAAGGGHHH. Yes, yes, YESSSS…” ***************************************************** What was your first introduction to nappies and plastic pants like?
  6. Hi just added some more pics of my collection of babies 'rubbers' (plastic pants) to my album - enjoy! Tibsy
  7. laShowing Off Diapers

  8. I am an AB who enjoys pooping in my diapers; I use both disposable and cloth. When using clothies, I have had serious problems with poop staining my plastic pants and thus ruining them. Does anyone know of a plastic pants that do not have this problem?
  9. Chapter I I was watching the Sprint Cup race at my friend Ted’s place the other night, and when I used his bathroom during a commercial break I happened to notice that there was a pair of transparent plastic pants hanging on the shower caddy. They looked big enough to fit him. We’ve been friends for quite a while, and we’d had a couple of beers during the race, so after the race was over I asked him about them. He said, “Oh, I’ve been wearing them to bed now for a few months.” “Oh yeah? Tell me more.” “Well, you remember all that stress I was having at work last summer, those crazy shifts I was working and on weekends…I was surfing the web one evening and ran across a site where some guy said that he wore plastic pants to bed every night, and had done it for years, and the main reason he did was because they relaxed him so that he could sleep better. So that was just some guy online, but I got to thinking about it, and I remembered when I was a kid the family next door to us, all their kids wet the bed until they got to be 8 or 10 years old, so they wore plastic pants and diapers. The boy who was my age said that they all slept really well because they knew they were protected from wetting the bed, so they could relax and fall asleep easily. So I figured, why not give it a try? Of course I don’t have any need for diapers so I figured just the plastic pants would be better. I searched online for plastic pants and found quite a few places that sell adult-size plastic pants. Like everything else online, they were quick and easy to buy.” “It must have taken some time for you to get used to wearing them…” “Yeah, about three days or so, I guess. I felt kinda weird putting them on the first night, especially when I realized I had them on backwards. I thought they were the same front and back until I had a closer look at them. So I could really feel them on me the first night, and it took a while to get to sleep. But I felt fine when I woke up, and even better the next morning. By the end of the week I was falling asleep right away, and waking up really refreshed in the morning. Now I’ve gotten used to wearing them, I wouldn’t go to sleep without them.” “So what does Alice think of them? I’ll bet you had some explaining to do.” “Yeah, I did, I told her pretty much what I just told you. She knew how the stress had been affecting my sleep, because it affected hers too. She was kinda dubious about the idea at first. Said they looked like baby pants. I said no, they actually look kind of like yours but see-through. Just a few days ago she told me she really likes the idea of me wearing them - not only do we both sleep better and get enough sleep, but she said that with my package in there they don’t look like baby pants at all. Also, when I turn over they move with me and slide easily on the sheets, so they don't bind like my underwear did.” “Are they hard to take care of?” “No, not at all. I just rinse them off in the shower and hang them there, and they'll drip dry during the day. Sometimes I wash them in the sink with hand soap just to make real sure the elastics are washed clean.” “Don’t you get all sweaty in them while you sleep?” “There’ll be a little sweat on them in the morning, nothing that doesn’t wipe off with a little toilet paper. That kinda surprised me, I thought there would be more.” “So you’re convinced it’s a good idea wearing them…” “Oh, yeah, they give me a feeling, a relaxation that I never felt before. I’m going to try getting some more in different colors, maybe some bikini-cut ones for the summertime. Then I can trade off and they won’t wear out so fast.” On the way home I had plenty to think about, never having considered this idea before. Chapter 2 A few days later when i was puttering around online it occurred to me to see what I could find out about people wearing plastic pants. It didn’t take very long to find out that there’s a lot of online activity about wearing plastic pants. I discovered that it’s a huge fetish for some people and that others wear them over diapers because of incontinence. Not only are there dozens of places to buy plastic pants online from quite a few different countries, but some of them have other kinds of plastic garments as well. The next time I talked to Ted I asked him if he thought he might develop a fetish for plastic pants now that he was wearing them every night. He said, “No, I don’t think so. It’s true that I do like to wear them, but it’s because they help me sleep, not because they turn me on or something.” Well, that made sense to me, because I definitely did get the idea from reading people’s posts online that most people who had a fetish for plastic pants or anything else developed it when they were really young. I decided that maybe it would be a good idea to try wearing them to bed myself, just to see if they’d help me to sleep better. I could tell that Ted seemed a lot more relaxed lately but still able to get plenty of work done. I looked at a couple of different websites and decided on one of them, because the site had lots of information on choosing sizes depending on whether a person would be wearing the plastic pants by themselves or over a diaper. I mentioned to Carol, my wife, that I was going to order some plastic pants, and of course she wanted to know why. I explained to her about what I’d learned, and that I really thought they would help me to sleep. “Well, that sounds like it may be worth a try - if you didn’t toss and turn so much I could sleep better too.” I showed her the full-cut translucent pants I planned to buy, and she said, “Why don’t you get a couple of them - that way you can switch from one to the other and they’ll both last longer. We don’t need to get any more until we find out if this plan of yours really works.” I went ahead with the online order, and in a couple of days the package showed up in the mailbox. I opened the package and examined the plastic pants. The soft, smooth plastic material had a faint, pleasant odor. I was surprised at how large the pants seemed until I realized that the plastic didn’t have any stretch to it, so the pants had to be big enough to cover me, with the elastic at the waist and legs to make them fit and hold them in place. The seller’s website had recommended that the new items should be washed before wearing for the first time, so I washed them in the sink with a little liquid soap and warm water. I decided they’d dry faster if I hung them upside down by one of the legs. I thought to myself, “That’s the way Ted’s plastic pants were hanging when I saw them.” They weren’t dry yet at bedtime so the next morning I folded them and put them in my underwear drawer. That night we got ready for bed, and as I undressed I realized that I was a little bit nervous, because this would be the first night I hadn’t slept nude or in underpants since I was in junior high school. And of course Carol was watching, or at least I felt that way although she was doing her normal bedtime routine. I took one of the plastic pants out of the drawer, made sure they were turned right, put my feet through the leg holes, and pulled them up my legs into their place around my middle. When I got into bed the first thing I noticed was that I couldn’t feel the sheet against my plastic-covered butt, or against my penis and scrotum. I could feel the elastics around my waist, and I noticed how warm and soft the smooth plastic was. I did feel quite self-conscious though, and it seemed to take a long time to get to sleep. I hoped that I’d soon be able to fall asleep, and that was the last thing I remembered until the alarm went off in the morning. Carol reached over, patted my ass, and said, “Get up, sleepyhead - oh, that feels smooth…” When I showered, I took the plastic pants into the shower and rinsed them off. There had been a little sweat in the front of them, but not as much as I thought there would be. I hung them on the shower caddy, and we both went about our day. That night I still felt a bit self-conscious when I put them on, but once in bed I found myself relaxing, and fell asleep quite readily. The next morning I woke up feeling quite relaxed and ready to get up and go. This continued for the next couple of weeks, and I started to get over being nervous about putting the plastic pants on at night. One Saturday a couple of months later when I brought in the mail there was a package addressed to Carol from the same seller that I’d bought my plastic pants from. I took it into her sewing room and handed it to her. “Look what came in the mail today….” She took the package and said, “Bob, I’d been planning to surprise you. You really have been sleeping so well lately that I thought I’d try getting some plastic panties too. I was looking through that website you bought your pants from and saw that they had some really cute bikini-cut plastic panties, so I got some pink ones to wear.” “Oh, yours are panties but mine are just pants then…” “Yes, that’s how it is, dear.” So that night when we were getting ready for bed she was the one who was a bit nervous. When she had put her pink plastic panties on for the first time, she turned and looked at herself in the mirror and said “How do you think I look?” I’d figured that I was going to reassure her that she looked great no matter what, but when she stood there in front of the mirror in that pink plastic bikini she did look just fine. “You look so fine in that….” I walked over to her and caressed her ass and “…you feel so fine too!” Well, as it turned out it was a while before we got to sleep that night, me in my clear pants and her in her pink bikini panties. Chapter 3 It wasn’t very long after that night that I realized one Sunday morning that Carol was wearing her plastic panties under her bathrobe. I asked her if she was just wearing them until she showered. She said, “Yes, probably…”, and it turned out that this was what she did. The only thing was, she didn’t shower until almost noon. Another day when we were getting ready to go to dinner and a movie I saw her change into her plastic panties. At dinner I said, “You really like to wear your plastic panties, don’t you?” She grinned, “What was your first clue?” Then she continued, “Yes, I really do. I love the way they feel on me, and they give me a really neat, kind of a secure feeling. Also, I like that you think I look foxy in them.” Then she went on to tell me that when I originally asked her about me wearing plastic pants to bed, she had already been thinking about plastic pants, because the subject had come up for discussion when she was having coffee with three of her friends. They had been talking about when they were kids, and one of them said that the people next door had kids that were bedwetters, and they often had plastic pants and diapers hanging on their clothesline. The two girls wore diapers and plastic pants until they were 12, and the boy was still wearing them at 15. The mother had told her once that she had also worn plastic pants and diapers for bedwetting until she was in junior high school. Another one said that her father-in-law had had a fetish for plastic pants and had worn them often. He hadn’t ever said anything about it but she’d found out from her mother-in-law. The third lady remembered that her mother had worn plastic pants when she had her period. So Carol felt a little weird that she was the only one of the four without any plastic pants story to tell. I said, “I wonder how many other people are wearing plastic pants. It seems that there are all kinds of reasons for people to wear them, doesn’t it?” “Yes, it certainly does. I wonder why we haven’t heard very much about people wearing them to bed just for the relaxing comfort they give.” “Maybe it’s because they feel weird talking about them. Lots of people wore them as babies, but everybody thought they were just for babies, and big kids didn’t need them anymore.” “Hey, look at the time - we’d better get going to the show.” Chapter 4 Now it’s a year later and things are going well. We’re both still wearing our plastic pants - or panties - to bed and sleeping very well indeed. Last time I bought more clear plastic pants for myself, I also got some pink and some red bikini plastic panties that I’m going to give Carol for her birthday. She likes wearing her pink plastic panties sometimes during the day as well as to bed. On some of the really warm days last summer she would just wear them and a bra or bikini top. Sometimes when we get ready for bed I see that she already has her plastic panties on. I haven’t really thought about wearing mine at other times - I’m saving mine to wear to bed. We’ve both talked a little bit about them to some people we know, but I don’t know if any of them have started wearing plastic pants to bed. Ted and I talk about them from time to time and he’s still wearing his every night. In a way it’s just a small thing, but on the other hand most people think it’s kind of a big deal to change what they wear to bed. We are so happy that we discovered this method of improving our sleep that we don’t mind talking about it, and bringing into the mainstream the idea that wearing plastic pants to bed helps people sleep better.
  10. Teenybop (complete)

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

    Being a Diaper Lover (DL) that happens to be bladder Incontinent, I have an excuse to wear and enjoy diapers and plastic pants and not be embarrassed by wearing them in public. I've embraced it and started carrying my own diaper bag when I leave the house. When I am in my responsible adult mode, I carry a black and blue backpack that has Dry 24/7 diapers and plastic pants, a change of shorts along with plastic bags, baby wipes, etc. When in DL mode, I have a large Graco diaper bag tote, black with teal trim and I carry the following; 6 Dry 24/7 diapers 2 Babykin cloth diapers 3 plastic baby pants 1 baby bib 1 pair of shorts or shortall 1 T-shirt or polo 1 bottle of baby lotion 1 bottle of baby powder Plastic bags for dirty diapers A container of baby wipes That about fills up my bag, So, do you carry a diaper bag, and if you do, what do you carry in it? Also, can anyone give me ideas on how to embellish my diaper bag to scream out "Diaper Bag" when someone sees it?
  12. Diapermania

    Diapermania At this moment Michael de Vie is probably the most famous seventeen year-old in the world. His six number one records and two best-selling albums of the past two years have rocketed this sweet natured, blond-haired, blue-eyed, good-looking, talented young singer into mega-star status. His two sell-out world tours were seen by an estimated audience of three million, whilst any magazine or newspaper that carries his photo or a story (true or false) has the same effect on its sales. There is no doubt about it, this nice young lad from the mid-West, is the most bankable piece of pop merchandise to come along for many years. Not for Michael the pouting brat that has earmarked other young performers, nor the cavorting in semi-pornographic videos to promote each new song. No, Michael’s image is not only that of a clean-cut teenager but one who respects his peers, adults and the world in which he lives. This is down to his family. His interviews always cite the influence of this very important part of his life. His mother Jean is his manager, his eldest sister Ba–Ba (Barbara) is the keyboard player and leader of his backing band (The Protectors), his middle sister Mu (Muriel) is his PA and his other sister JJ (Jean Junior) runs the fan-club. Mother Jean is a ‘no messing’ type of lady who knows what she wants and generally gets just that. All her daughters are older than her son who was the last of her litter separating the first and last by thirteen years. The girls were all products of Jean’s husband George Clarkson, Michael was the off-spring of a drunken one night stand with someone Jean couldn’t remember having sex with. In fact, it wasn’t until she was almost five months pregnant that she realised what the result of that misguided sexual encounter had generated. The unplanned foetus growing in her womb had passed the abort stage, and, with no option, she eventually looked forward to the birth of her son. George Clarkson had died two years before that drunken night and Jean had been in grieving for quite some time before the ill-conceived romp took place. However, it was George’s name that appeared on the birth certificate and not the real father’s. So, that drunken need for sex, though for some time appeared to be the stupidest thing to have happened, now appeared to be the best. The family, thanks to Michael’s all-encompassing talent and appeal, are sitting pretty on a fortune that their bastard son and sibling has generated. However, it isn’t all down to Michael of course. No one could have achieved what he has done without superb management. His family were quick learners, smart at what they did and their talented brother was indebted to his family for the success he was now reaping. The baby of the family was kept just that way. All decisions were taken by the women in his life; all he had to do was perform. Even when not on stage it was his family that surrounded him and they wanted to look after that asset by making sure no one else got a look in. Little Mikey (as he was affectionately known to his family) had to adhere to some very strict rules that had governed his life since he was a born: Do exactly as told, argue and a spanking follows, diapers to be worn at all times. This last rule started as just a way to enforce the female domination of his life. However, Jean soon noticed how keeping her son in protection made him incredibly obedient and endearingly docile, so much so that now that sweet touch of childish purity was what made Little Mikey different. His stage clothes were solely for that because once the performance was over and the well-wishers had gone, one of the females took charge and returned Little Mikey to what he was, the baby of the family. Ever since he was an infant, that’s how the family had treated him. Mainly his young life consisted of being bottle fed, plain food, diaper changes, early nights, cartoons on TV, bedroom and bedding covered in cute animals and the constant love and attention from his ever caring family. Once out of the spotlight his diaper was checked and changed, he was put in a onesie or footed pyjamas and told to go to sleep. Mikey didn’t complain, why would he he’d never known anything different? As he grew up he was still kept in diapers and plastic pants “For your own protection” he was always told. Even at school, when his peers were moving into briefs and boxers he was wearing thick diapers under his school uniform. Once he returned home he was immediately changed out of that and into something deemed more suitable; cute romper pants or shorts. This regime was easy to maintain because since he was a babe in his mother’s arms all his sisters loved dressing him up. No sooner had one got him dressed to her satisfaction, than one of the others had a different idea and he would be stripped where ever he was, powdered, changed and slipped into something equally sweet but undeniably babyish. This continues to this day and Michael appears quite content with the situation, well, at least he’s never complained. His connection with anyone outside of his family is fleeting and supervised. Fans say ‘Hello’, want photographs, scream for him and at him but they only got near him when he’s on stage. Once he’s left the ‘performance’ area (as his family called it) he is theirs and the public are not allowed into that intimate and very private inner-sanctum. Little Mikey feels he’s special but not because of his undeniable talent but the love and attention of his family who do everything for him. * Michael had won a local TV talent show when he was ten. The song he sung was a self-penned little tune about his love for a cat. He never mentioned the word cat in it so it sounded just like a love song and people adored it. For a short time the local press hailed this ‘Small Town Boy’ as the next big thing. Alas, his fame never spread beyond the county although, from then on, people loved his voice and he was in demand for regional concerts and state fairs. The young singer/songwriter performed anywhere and everywhere under the watchful eye of his mother. From the family home she directed his burgeoning career and made sure at all times he had at least two of his family present. She also took the opportunity to home-school him, especially as demand for his shows was increasing and travelling meant he couldn’t attend a regular class. As he grew up and was influenced more and more by things, stories and people around him, his song writing got stronger and stronger. However, Jean wanted to keep her boy just that, a boy. She didn’t want him in a rush to grow up and saw that his appeal was down to his childlike looks, unsophisticated attitude and general sweet demeanour. He was so unlike anyone else performing at the time; ‘innocence’ was not what the public wanted, or so it thought. However, a spot on national TV raised his profile and his self-penned and self-released single “Too Good” was an instant success on download, which in turn grabbed the attention of the big record companies. Michael was still only fourteen when it went on general release. Accompanied by a video which showed him working on a farm in a pair of dirty shorts and ripped t-shirt surrounded by loads of cute animals, proved a clever move and the public loved it. YouTube went berserk and suddenly he had a massive hit on his hands. Despite loads of tempting offers from International agencies, it was his mother’s planning and strict supervision that made it all work. She took complete command and steered her young son’s career to the success it is now. * He’s happy in the care of his family; the regular diaper changing and dressing up only reinforces that bond. He’s never worn anything but a diaper so other types of underwear for a boy have never been offered. He’s reasonably potty trained but is just as happy to use his diaper as use the bathroom and certainly it doesn’t seem the most important thing to change that dynamic. His mother, when thinking it all through, decided that part of her sons appeal is his naivety. She is of the opinion that wearing diapers and depending on them, gives him an unconscious vulnerability that people find very appealing. Not that they planned on telling anyone. In fact, it is a family secret, which they are all involved in maintaining and all take a share in the responsibility of keeping Michael clean, dry and well padded. Now here’s a little fact; when his sister put together his backing band for tours, she picked all-female musicians and named them ‘The Protectors’ in recognition of her brother’s dependency on diapers. Clever eh? There is purity to Michael’s voice that a studio doesn’t need to fix or mix with electronic gadgets and that had an appeal right across the board; kids and adults love him. Most boys his age hated him for his success but that still didn’t stop his first ‘star’ calendar selling millions and featuring on as many boys’ bedroom walls as it did girls. In interviews he never tries to be clever. If the journalist or TV personality tries to ask him an embarrassing question he is simply embarrassed; he giggles, shakes his head and states publicly he didn’t have an answer. More often than not it goes in his favour; the public like his honesty, they like his unworldliness, they like him. Jean is not immune to overprotecting her baby boy and if she is crossed or thought that the questioning has been too intrusive, she happily confronts the perpetrator and takes them to task, often very publicly. Her fierce defence of her boy is seen as a positive by the public but hated by the media who see no limit to how insensitive they can be. The fact that they can’t find any dirt or humiliating little secret on this ‘little goody-goody’ is driving them nuts. They print lies and then, in huge headlines say that “… they refused to deny…” such and such. It sold newspapers and magazines but a photo shoot, organised by Jean, of her clean-cut boy, loving his family and actually helping out on a farm for injured animals, proved a better selling point. * However, just before Michael’s eighteenth birthday, Jean got wind that there was going to be a photo expose. The photographer on one shoot had caught Michael bending over and his diaper was clearly visible. There were several images that made the evidence irrefutable and the photographer had sold them to the highest bidder and raked in an absolute fortune for himself. The story was scheduled to run in the biggest circulating Sunday newspaper in the world so Jean, ever on the ball, decided to do a couple of things. First was not to deny or comment on it, the second was to quickly tie up a deal with a maker of teenage diapers. De Vie Diapers; colourful, absorbent, fashionable. Every photo and video that had ever featured Michael suddenly was doctored and had him wearing diapers. Some got very close to the type and style he actually wore but in general, they just wanted to humiliate him… but it didn’t. The more they pushed the diapers angle the more the YouTube clips were viewed. The brighter the diapers and frilly the plastic pants, the more hits and ‘Likes’ the image received. Suddenly, diapers were everywhere and embraced by a huge section of the youthful populace. Yes, the hoped for backlash didn’t happen, instead fans bought diapers and pull-ups and wore them to his concerts. Those who had to wear them were suddenly released from their guilt. Letter after letter, interview after interview, were all supportive and damning of the shady and sensationalistic way the newspaper had treated the subject, which in turn led to a campaign so virulent that it cost them half their readership. Michael De Vie and his diapers were everywhere. Kids were wearing them in the street as a fashion statement and the headlines around the world were – DE VIE’S DIAPERMANIA. Jean simply refused to enter into any conversation about why he still wore diapers and this led to a mass of speculation in the press. Late night TV programmes brought in ABDLs, as well as those who actually wore them for medical reasons, to discuss the pros and cons of this phenomenon. Of course everyone wanted to hear from Michael himself but, as he couldn’t see what all the fuss was about, he never made any statement or participated in a debate on the subject. Jean thought that his face on the diaper packaging and his latest single ‘Hug Me’ (his 7th Number One) was enough involvement for her son. He quite liked the fact that he now had an array of colourful printed animals on his diapers (Jean had been keen to direct the profits into an animal charity) and continued to wear them with all the special diaper covers that companies sent him for approval in the hope of adding his name as a sponsor. Pretty soon he was engulfed in hundreds of such items; ruffles, lace, frills, silk, satin, plastic, rubber, you name a material, he received something made in it. Little Mikey loved these new additions to his wardrobe and, as long as it fit over his diapers, he wore with pride simply because he’d never known anything else. His mother and sisters took great pleasure in keeping their baby boy dry, clean and happy, while he in turn loved the tight loving hug his protection, and protectors, constantly gave him. ************ to be continued....
  13. Regressed

    Regressed Day 1 So, here I am, sitting at my computer wearing nothing but a thick diaper and plastic pants. “Why would any sane person dress like that?” you might ask, and that is a difficult question because I have no idea where the original thought came from. It must have something to do with trying to research an article online that I was preparing to write. I was new to the magazine and wanted to prove myself. So, I was looking for something crazy, something my editor would love and something the readers could feel superior about so, something definitely a bit sexual, kinky and creepy. I was checking through various fetish sites: ‘Adult Baby’ and ‘Diaper Lovers’ seemed a bizarre subject for me to get my junior journalistic teeth into. I was amazed at just how many ‘weird but normal’ people seemed to be into this particular ‘thing’ and thought I could have some fun with the subject at their expense. Why I chose this particular theme I’m not sure as it horrified me; adults parading around in diapers and doing stuff in them, definitely not what I’d call fun. However, as I looked into it more and more it appeared to be a topic with ‘promise’ and I became fascinated with the images and stories. # Day 4 Over the past few days the thought to purchase and wear this ‘infantalistic’ clothing has grown. In fact, I think it is fair to say that the idea seems to have overtaken any other thoughts in my head. Every time I see an image of someone wearing a diaper, I see my face smiling, or gurgling or sucking on a pacifier. It’s creepy and yet…? At night my dreams are full of these images of me playing, coloring, building bricks high or just lying in a crib with toys, stuffed animals and feeling nothing but… peace. When I wake up I’m happy and smiling but when I’m fully awake a chill runs through my body, which leaves me wondering why this subject is having such an effect. Yesterday I found myself at the drugstore buying adult diapers and I have absolutely no recollection of even driving there. My only real memory is carrying the huge plastic pack back to my car and feeling happy. Yes HAPPY and… pleased with myself. Again I’m not sure why but I suppose I was glad that I now had my own diapers and a couple of pairs of plastic pants to keep me dry. On returning home I just tossed the bundle into the back of the closet wondering why I’d just bought such items and telling myself that I was a being very ‘naughty’ and that I’d return it all in the morning. However, since then, some mornings I wake up and find I’m wearing nothing but a diaper and have no recollection of actually putting it on. # Day 7 Where and when I first got the idea of wearing a diaper instead of my usual underwear I’m not sure but here I am wearing them all the time; around the house and when I go to bed. In fact, I seem very happy wearing them and I can’t think of a time when I didn’t. Those first couple of occasions it all felt very strange; the bulk and the obvious bulge I was sure were very noticeable. The crinkling of the plastic I was sure would attract attention but to me it seemed magical. Thankfully, after just a few trips out in the car to the store or wondering around the city wearing them under a pair of shorts (I’d more or less stopped wearing jeans because they seemed just too adult) it all felt… wonderfully normal. If anyone noticed they don’t say anything so, it doesn’t seem to matter that much because I really did like the idea, as well as the feelings of… of… happiness… that this change in clothing gives me. Day 8 They give me a feeling of being fortunate, of being loved; of security… they give me a feeling of being me. Since I left home a couple of years ago my mummy and daddy… er, I mean mom and dad (why I used those childish terms I’m not sure) have er, erm, umm… what was I going to say? Sorry, my mind seems to be doing that more and more, I sort of lose my train of thought and the only way I can get it back is by visiting the site. Never mind. “Daddy… daddy… dada…” What the hell is going on? # Day 9 Why am I acting so strangely? I need to work and finish this feature and get back to normality as soon as possible. I look down at myself and the plastic pants feel tight around my waist and legs. I can see the outline of Disney characters on my diaper and all is forgotten because I’m filled with joy and happiness that I have them with me and work is the last thing I want to do. I want to play. I search the room for my best friend Timmy my teddy bear. As always he’s never far away and I reach out and give him a hug and a squeeze, whilst the feel of his soft fur against my naked skin sends messages of contentment to my brain. I sit him on top of my diaper and bounce him up and down; he’s such a silly bear. For a brief moment the feeling of ecstasy passes and I continue my research on ‘Disgusting Diaper Dudes”, that’s the title of my article, but as I look at the document on the computer, other than the title and my name, I appear to have written nothing… and yet… I feel I’ve been researching and writing the article for ages. I’m beginning to doubt my sanity. # Day 11 Where can all my work be? I’m sure I’ve typed thousands of words on the subject, but looking at my history on the toolbar, I have returned to the same ABDL page often. In fact, when I look more carefully, REGRESS is the only site I’ve looked at in the past few weeks. I’m sitting looking at the screen wondering what’s going on. Rubbing the slippery front of my plastic pants and wiggling my toes in the soft carpet. I feel my bottom lip trembling because I don’t have anyone else to play with and a huge gulp of sadness is rising up from my tummy. Timmy is held tightly in one hand, whilst my thumb is in my mouth and I am sucking and trying to think at the same time. Thinking is hard and I feel my eyes getting heavy as I try to stay awake and close the site once and for all. I hug Timmy even tighter and begin to sniffle, I don’t know what’s happening and I want my mommy. # Day 13 My diaper is thicker and more contented than ever and I feel so happy sitting on the floor with my legs outstretched, I chuckle because I couldn’t close my legs even if I wanted to. As I crawl around I’ve never noticed it before but there appears to be some soft relaxing music somewhere in the background, it’s from the computer and I can just about make out a soothing voice telling me it is OK to relax. The sounds and the words now flit through my mind; sleep, forget, enjoy, regress, suck, relax, wet… As my eyes close a feeling of utter euphoria engulfs me. I giggle because there’s this nice tingling running around my body and into my diaper. All I can hear is that soft, gentle music and those calming, encouraging words telling me that all is well and soon I’ll have no more worries. With my diaper tightly hugging my groin making me feel safe and snug, my thumb offering equal soothing qualities as I suck on it, I drift off. I can feel a warmth grow in my diaper as I let loose and wet myself but I am comfortable, reassured, pacified and… happy and I… Day 14 “regression complete” ***************** Subject Number 20012, Male, Age 23, Collection and clean-up party mobilised. Delivery as Dispatch Number 7773, address as shown on invoice. Special requests: Subject to only wear - pink diaper, pink plastic pants, pink pacifier. * Thank you for your custom * Regression Services Inc * All operatives please note – owing to successful completion of our first year in business we can now offer new increased premium incentives for all future subjects. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
  14. It was a beautiful spring day and I thought I would do a little shopping and then visit an old strip club I had not been to in years in Cocoa Beach. This would not normally be that unusual except for the way I was dressed and what I was shopping for. I was wearing a very thick soft cloth diaper that was covered by pink nursery print plastic pants a pair of women’s teal short shorts and a long sleeve T-shirt. Now all I needed to do was find a pale pink sports bra to match my plastic pants. I grabbed my keys and diaper bag and was out the door. After a short drive to a nearby town I started looking around for a store that might carry the sports bra I was looking for and finally decided on a Target store as I knew they had a nice women’s active wear section. Walking through the parking lot I started to get that really horny feeling as my diaper massaged between my legs and my plastic pants crinkled loudly. There would be no doubt I was buying the bra for myself, because I was not going to buy anything else and if you took one look at my obviously diapered mid-section and diaper bag, there would be no doubt what a sissy I really am. I looked and looked and couldn't find anything that struck me. Several lady shoppers gave me funny looks. I was going back and forth and back and forth between sale racks yearning to find the prefect sports bra. This was very amusing to two college girls who didn't say anything, but kept looking at me and smiling. Looking through another sale rack I found a perfect bra that would match my plastic pants. 42A or XL is hard to find sometimes, but that's my sissy size. As I held it up to look at it one of the girls gave me the OK sign. I smiled, nodded, and the two of them doubled over in laughter. As I was walking towards checkout, I remembered I needed some baby powder, so I quickly grabbed some from the baby section before leaving. The checkout lady looked at the bra and baby powder, as she popped the plastic anti-theft device off the bra she was looking at the size and then looking at me. A little smile crossed her face. The checkout lady held the bra up and kept turning it around to find the tag. I am sure the three ladies behind me knew I was buying a bra for myself. After she totaled the purchase, I swiped my credit card and the machine buzzed. "Does your card have a chip, honey?" she said. "Oh, yeah it does," I replied. "I guess you're just too excited about your purchases. Go ahead and put the card in the lower slot." The checkout lady looked at my diaper bag on the counter and back at me as she said “what pretty diapers and plastic pants, you want to put your baby powder in your diaper bag,” as she looked at my mid-section and smiled? That got a chuckle out of the lady next in line. We completed the transaction and she gave me a small bag and with that big smile said, "You have a nice day." I was about to leave the store when I thought, "Where should I change?" I hadn't been in this area in years. This shopping area was new to me. It was the middle of the day and I wasn't sure where to go. Then I thought, "They already know I'm a sissy here." So I turned around and went to the restroom in the front of the store. I was so much easier than fighting the steering wheel and having things fall between the seats in the car. The bra didn't have any clasps. I slid it over my head and pulled it in place and quickly put my T-shirt back on. As I walked out, I looked in the mirror. It was then that I noticed you could just barely see the pink of the bra through the T-shirt and the ever popular bulge of my diapers and plastic pants under my woman’s short shorts. As I walked through the front of the store I had to go by the checkout lane I had used. That big grin showed up again, I smiled and said, "thank you." That big grin got as wide as it could get, "You have fun!" The return trip across the parking lot was just as exciting. Just before I got to my parking space a car honked at me. I turned around and it saw the two girls who helped me pick out my bra. The girls were pointing and laughing. I smiled, waved, which cracked them all up. I felt like everyone had their eyes on the big sissy the rest of the way to my car. Now I had the strip club on my mind. Way back when lap dances were pretty strict. You had to keep your hands on the couch while the girl rubbed her body on your crotch. That was another reason I wanted to be wearing diapers. I had never gone to a strip club dressed so sissyish before and was hoping this place was as friendly as it used to be. I drove across town straight to the strip club. As I entered, the difference between the bright outdoors and the dark club blinded me for several seconds. As my eyes adjusted I saw the counter just inside the front door. This is where you used to pay the cover charge. Since no one asked me for any money I just walked in. As my eyes adjusted a bartender appeared. She smiled as she looked me up and down. Being a weekday, there were only four or five guys around the L-shaped bar who just seemed to be eyeing the strippers, while the strippers they were talking to checked me out. "Sorry, there wasn't anyone to greet you. There's a $6 cover charge," said the bartender. She was wearing black shiny leggings, corset and high heel boots. She went behind the front door counter and made change for my $20, a lot of ones and a five. She knew how to take care of the girls. I followed her to the bar and order a beer. There was a Hispanic girl dancing. She had the whole Selena look going on. I sat down with my beer and put my money on the table just as I was approached by a Beautiful girl wearing black panties and a basque. I was very nervous but after a while I mentioned that I was wearing diapers, plastic pant and a bra as I enjoyed wearing them and humiliation, we discussed it for a while and I opted to have a private dance, she grabbed my hand a led me over to a private booth. As she started dancing, she kept feeling my chest and straps of the bra and then reached down the back of my shorts to rub my plastic pants, as she whispered in my ear “you are a big sissy baby.” I was loving it. After the dance, I went back to the main room and saw the girl come out and go over to another girl who then made a b-line for me. This lady was Stunning, she had dark hair, Very pale skin, bright red lipstick, a red Corset and lace panties on. We made small talk and then she said "so what secret do you want to tell me?" I was a bit shocked and very turned on, we went for a private dance and as she started she just turned and said, "So you like to be humiliated then?" "Yea" I replied, as she danced she gently pulled my hair and even put her bra in my mouth and rubbed the front of my diapers and plastic pants. When she finished she told me that if I wanted she would tell all the girls and told me to trust her it would be ok, I agreed and went and sat down. As I went up to the bar to get another beer the girls all looked over and were smiling and chatting, I feeling a bit more adventurous I made sure that the waistband of my plastic pants could be seen, the only other guys in there were distracted. The bartender in very sexy shiny leggings smiled got my beer and said, "cute, I would never have guessed you were wearing diapers and baby pants, enjoy it sweetie!" I smiled and as I went back to my seat as a tall brunette came over to me and pulled the waistband shorts out in front exposing my diapers and plastic pants, "ah so it's true!" she said "well let’s hear it, tell me all about it." we talked for a while and she kept saying that it really interested her and she would love to change my diapers and expose my diapers to everyone. She quickly worked out that I loved the Humiliation of it all, and kept getting the passing girls to pop over and look at my diapers and feel my bra. I went for a private dance with her and she told me to pull me shorts down slightly so she could really see my diapers and plastic pants. As I sat down with the shorts pulled down exposing my thick diaper covered by pink nursery print plastic pants, she danced and asked if I wanted to be verbally humiliated, I nodded and she was just brilliant bringing me to the edge several time during the first dance. After two more amazing dances she finally helped me blow my load. She sat back down next to me and said out loud, “good thing you had a diaper on.” She gave me a kiss on the cheek and told me that if I come back then she'll make it very special for me. I left soon after and promised myself I would go back soon. I think next time I’ll wear something a little different, although not too overtly. I hope you enjoy reading as I loved doing it.
  15. Lately, I find myself loving wearing cloth diapers not for the diapers, but for the plastic pants over them. I just cannot get enough of how they look and feel. This is why I had asked about wearing just a cloth liner/soaker with them, as I've really begun to love how the plastic pants look and feel, as I rarely use the diaper. Anyone else feel the same? If so, how do you try and wear them? Do you wear them with things other then diapers?
  16. San Diego Area Sissy/DL

    Boomer generation diaper lover and sissy interested in meeting similar friends for chat and playdates in the San Diego area (Rancho Bernardo area). Because of when I was born, I prefer cloth diapers and plastic pants, but also use disposables. I enjoy wetting to sogginess, but am not into #2 at all. I'm also a lover of sissy wear, including frilly dresses, petticoats, lingerie (bras, garter belts, stockings, panties), high heels, and makeup and wig if I have the time. I also enjoy porn of all types, and do not mind social drinking and 420 activities - as long as it's all done in fun and is mutually enjoyable. I have wide interests outside the fetish, including movies, travel, dining out, reading, woodworking, and gardening. Please - no hookups, and only others who have similar interests. Be willing to get to know each other and to talk about our fetish to see if we're compatible. No Daddies please. Contact Nikki at [email protected]
  17. Plastic Pant Fetish

    I am having a hard time as I first became very attracted to plastic pants when a lady I was dating showed up wearing cute pink PP under her skirt one evening. I have never been aroused so quickly in my life! However, I found it difficult to find another person who will even consider playing like that. Recently I began using diapers and plastic pants at night in bed for stimulation. However, now I like wetting them and I am totally confused as to my true identity. I guess this means I have strong PP fetish, yet have become a true DL.
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    From the album Plastic pants

    Suprima plastic pants. The colour is described as jeans.
  19. Gotta Love Summer

    Summer has eventually landed in the UK after some really poor weather recently. Making the most of the sun, after washing four of my recently worn plastic pants, Princess hung them out in our back garden. Now where we live our garden can be viewed by the the houses either side of us. What a great feeling that my Mummy did nt care who saw the babyish clothing she dresses her 'little' boy in. That, along with the fact that the heat means that you can wear a nappy with plastic pants and nothing else around the house makes Summer my favourite AB/DL season
  20. Be sure to stop by Changing Times Diaper Company the next time you are in Las Vegas. We offer a nice selection of cloth diapers, waterproof pants made with plastic and polyurethane laminate (PUL), and, disposable diapers from ABU, Bambino and BareBum. Feel free to stop by and chat.
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    From the album Plastic pants

    These are cherry red pants from Fetware, Given to us by Jennywren
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    From the album Plastic pants

    Milky white plastic pants from Adult Cloth Diaper Services