babykeiff Posted September 9, 2011 Share Posted September 9, 2011 Amelia, by my calculations is about 12-13, and both Peter and Juliet are in the 22-23 year old. With the ten year age gap, there is no way for Peter to see Amelia other than that of a prepubescent child. Yes, at that age (12-13) it is normal for a child to act like a 'perfect gooseberry'. However honourable Juliet's intentions were, she should have realised how damaging it would be to Amelia. Juliet was in the same situation at that age, (Grandfathers study, in nappies, ashamed, and everyone laughing at her / with her) and Peter was the one who protected her, and it was partly this action that motivated Juliet out of nappies. Yes, I can see Juliet's intention to deter Peter from becoming a diaper lover etc, but the way she tried to achieve this was at Amelia's cost. I think it it partly this that made Amelia turn out to be so bull-headed etc with her own career / children etc, which means that only someone as strong as Matt can control her. Peter, no mater what his beliefs in regards to the fantasy of nappies etc, he would soon loose same when taking care of his own children. Amelia's first intake of curry (barely a year ago) caused her to have a violent reaction to same - ie becoming sick and soiling herself and her Uncle. Knowing her history, why would one risk feeding Amelia the same stuff - to me it shows that Juliet has a total disrespect and hatred for her own little sister. That action does not portray sisterly love. If the wetting and nappy dependency until puberty was supposed to create a sisterly bond etc, Juliet's actions betray any bond. I am really surprised, considering the 'bond', sence of duty and respect instilled in the family over generations, and within Peter by Juliet's father and Grandfather, that all Peter did was spank Juliet. From the previous stories, I didn't realise how hurtful the event was to Amelia, and how much the event controlled her future life. Keep up the good work where ever you may be - either at work with the zimmerframe, or at home with the typewriter/keyboard. Link to comment
WBDaddy Posted September 9, 2011 Share Posted September 9, 2011 FWIW, keiff, it does display a very, very common sisterly emotion other than love - that of jealousy, which played back and forth between the sisters all through that scene both in Juliet's version and in Amelia's version. The most interesting perspective (yet the least likely to ever be revealed) in this conflict would be that of Peter himself. Link to comment
freswith Posted September 9, 2011 Author Share Posted September 9, 2011 As it is written, Amelia is 10, precocious, and slightly spoilt. Julia has just turned 20, and Peter 21. Amelia has never been punished for wetting her nappy, it is accepted in the family that a child will be in nappies until puberty, and no amount of punishment or persuasion will prevent it. It was the same for Gran who was 14 when she finally dried up (puberty was a little later in those days - partly due to poor nutrition - and her daughters were both nearly twelve, so they understand, perhaps too well. On the other hand, they are adept at giving psychological support to their daughters - and often to their sisters. As I said, this has resulted in Amelia being rather spoilt, precocious, self centred and basically a pain in the neck. To some extent she resembles the famous Violet Elizabeth Bott of Rachel Crompton's "William" who could "Scweam and scweam and scweam until I'm sick - I can!". (If you haven't read the books, I suggest you Google her). However, Amelia has her strengths, drawn from her family background of naval derring-do, Victorian rapacity and, at times, outright piracy. Francis Drake is still her hero, and in any situation she will ask herself what Drake would have done, and she will do the same. She will always be ready for a risk, a dare, and a profit - really one very tough nut! Asbo*, a ferocious little Jack Russell fox terrier, is her alter ego, and I have yet to introduce Patch. There's a way to go with Amelia - I'll try to make it interesting. Thank you for your loyalty - it's so nice to know there are people out there! *(Asbo = Anti-Social Behaviour Order, a Brititsh attempt to control the incontrollable people in our society) Link to comment
babykeiff Posted September 9, 2011 Share Posted September 9, 2011 Freswith, with he story being so captivating, it is not surprising that there are 'people out there'... thousands of us hanging on each and every word. You have created something to be proud of this piece of work, and for myself, I appreciate the time and effort expended to create such a memorable piece of literature. In my opinion, and without reservation, you are awarded the following :- Ambassador Book Awards BCALA Literary Awards Bakeless Literary Prize Boston Globe-Horn Awards Bram Stoker Awards CBC Literary Award Commonwealth Writers Prize Compton Crook Award Coretta Scott King Award Costa Book Awards The Daggar Awards Dorothy Canfield Fisher Children's Book Award Dream Realm Awards The Edgar's Ellery Queen Award The Endeavor AwardThe Eppie Gaylactic Spectrum Awards Governor General Literary Awards International IMPAC Dublin Literary Prize International Reading Association Children Link to comment
jbz2079 Posted September 9, 2011 Share Posted September 9, 2011 Hi Freswith and Babykieth. Kieth you have touched on something I can personally relate too, My brother is 4 years younger than me and he was still a bedwetter at 7 years old and used nappies at nightime, I can remember being jealous of the extra attension he would get at bedtime from my mother. I suppose it was not something my brother actually wanted, to be a bedwetter I mean, it was just something that he had not yet grown out of, He didn't like or dislike wearing nappies it was just something that he had always done and I don't think he ever got any excitement or pleasure from it. He just did not have bladder control while he was asleep. Anyway, I got curious about the plastic pants and decided that I would try a pair of them on, I don't know what actualy lead to this but that was the plan. One night I took a pair of plastic pants from the linen cupboard and placed them in my bed for later. When the time came for bed I had forgotten about placing the pants under my bedclothes and discovered them as I slid into bed, my first thoughts were that I didn't know what I was thinking of earlier and that I would put the pants back later on when the house had gone quite. As I lay in bed thinking I pulled the pants up the bed and took them in my hands, feeling the soft vinyl and then decided that I might as well try then on, after all what harm could it do!. Making sure they were the right way round I pulled the pants up my legs and got them fully on over my underpants. I have to be honest and say that I felt totally ridiculous to be wearing these and did wonder just how I would explain what I was doing if caught by my mother. I was suddenly hit by a huge wave of excitement and a feeling of happyness that I found to be quite a shock and a little scary. I nearly took the pants off right then but I was intregued by this strange feeling, just how could something as ordinary cause these feelings. What exactily was these feelings and why does it feel just so nice. I left the pants just where they were and eventually fell asleep, When I woke in the morning I felt very warm and sweaty around the area under the pants. I slipped the pants off under the covers and noticed that my underpants were actually wet to the touch. I realise now that this was because of the pants making me hot and my undies had soaked up the sweat. I had really started something with the plastic pants, I would tell myself that this was stupid and silly on my part and that I would stop wearing the pants before I got caught, but this never happed of course, and yes I did get caught by my Mum not actually wearing the pants, but she found them on wash day when changing the bed, she never said anything at the time, but I knew she knew. Another time she left them under my pillow after changing the sheets and again never mentioned them. I eventually tried wearing the pants oner a terry cloth nappy one day while left alone in the house, this just completed the jigsaw for me, being in a nappy and plastic pants became a place I visited often, always scared of being caught but the feelings always outweighed the risks. I often thought that I was unique and that I had a serious problem because of the feelings I had for nappies and plastic pants, Then along came puberty, all the feeling I had for these things became very sexual. When I was in my early teens I used to think that all this would fade into the background when I got a girlfriend, yes it did, but not for that long, I always came back to wanting to be back in a nappy and pants. I went from girlfriend to girlfriend never ever revealing my secret, but I guess thousands of people did. Link to comment
Teddy Bear Brian Posted September 10, 2011 Share Posted September 10, 2011 Read this all in the last few days. Amazing. Link to comment
warpiper Posted September 16, 2011 Share Posted September 16, 2011 Freswith, with he story being so captivating, it is not surprising that there are 'people out there'... thousands of us hanging on each and every word. You have created something to be proud of this piece of work, and for myself, I appreciate the time and effort expended to create such a memorable piece of literature. In my opinion, and without reservation, you are awarded the following :- Ambassador Book Awards BCALA Literary Awards Bakeless Literary Prize Boston Globe-Horn Awards Bram Stoker Awards CBC Literary Award Commonwealth Writers Prize Compton Crook Award Coretta Scott King Award Costa Book Awards The Daggar Awards Dorothy Canfield Fisher Children's Book Award Dream Realm Awards The Edgar's Ellery Queen Award The Endeavor AwardThe Eppie Gaylactic Spectrum Awards Governor General Literary Awards International IMPAC Dublin Literary Prize International Reading Association Children Link to comment
freswith Posted September 16, 2011 Author Share Posted September 16, 2011 Well golly gosh darn! I'll just have to get on with the next episode, won't I? Link to comment
freswith Posted September 16, 2011 Author Share Posted September 16, 2011 Making up. I woke early the following morning and listened carefully for movement from the second bedroom across the passageway. There was no sound at all. I didn't feel much like going back to sleep and lay here some time, not being anxious to waken the slumbering Asbo, as I knew I would then have to go downstairs and let him out for a run and to obey the calls of nature. Mostly nature called Asbo in the form of rabbits, or even better, cats, which were placed in Asbo's path for the purpose of chasing, but even for Asbo the first thing in the morning was, well, the first thing in the morning. Even for me, there was the same imperative. I was fairly sure I had been dry for what had remained of the night after all the fuss and bother, but you can't always tell until you get up and move. Mum had always said these nappies were much too comfortable and didn't really help with my problem, and I agreed with her, but I wasn't going to pick holes in my nappies - after all, they might leak! I lay there some time, enjoying the warmth of my bed, and weighed up the options. Eventually I just felt too idle to go through all the paraphernalia of starting the day and so I just let it go. What's one more nappy in the stream of life? I lay back in the deep soft bed and dozed. Part of me enjoyed the warm softness trickling down between my legs, but another part of me reacted otherwise. The events of last night and the last few days came back to me, and I wasn't too happy about it. I realised that Peter was really hopelessly out of reach for me, and could now see myself as having been very deluded about him. I realised I'd been very silly about getting him to change me, and far from being a rival to Juliet for his affections, I had just been a silly little girl. I shifted my legs, and the cool air hit the little bit of seepage around the leg elastics, reminding me of the downside of having a slow comfortable pee. I stifled a curse and got out of bed. Normal practice would have been for me to take the nappy off and go and have a shower, but I decided not to risk it. After last night I had been left in no doubt that I was still in nappies, so any such initiative would be disapproved, and this morning I desperately wanted to avoid any more trouble. I waddled across the floor, the wet bulk on my bottom making me realise I had wet my nappy with unusual vigour, and I reached the nursery door with no more than a sleepy grunt from Asbo. I opened the door very softly and peeked around it to the door of the second bedroom. There was a funny rhythmic noise coming from it, which I couldn't recognise, so I went softly across the landing, once again avoiding the squeaky boards, and peeked in at the keyhole. Peter was sitting on the side of the bed, naked to the waist as far as I could see, and Juliet was lying face-down across his lap, and he was spanking her vigorously: hand against bare bottom. I stood transfixed. I never thought grown-ups did this sort of thing to each other and I couldn't begin to understand it. Eventually Peter stopped, rolled Juliet in his arms and kissed her. She kissed him back writhing in his grip, and they both collapsed back onto the bed. Peter then rolled on top of her and...they started to do IT! I had heard about IT of course, it had been mooted in that corner of the playground where daring souls congregated at break-time to keep out of the sight of the teachers, and where I, the girl-who-still-wore-nappies, was sometimes admitted to the intimate society of my peers. The whispered discussion had been hedged around with caveats, hyperbole and disbelief, and frequent glances in the direction of Teacher to make sure we were not spotted or taken by surprise. Now I was actually seeing IT for myself, and would have something to tell to the others next term; I might even be admitted into that precious inner circle on the strength of it. I kept my eye riveted to the keyhole, desperate not to miss any detail, and marvelled at how much effort they seemed to be putting into it. I was afraid to breath as I watched Peter's back heaving with effort, and Juliet gasping for breath and crying "Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!" as though she really meant it. As they got faster and faster I felt an urgent need to relieve myself, and since nappies do have their uses, I simply used mine for its appointed purpose until I was worried it might overflow and leak. Eventually they seemed to reach a crescendo, and then collapsed like a blow-up cushion being deflated, and I recovered my wits. This was obviously not a time to be spotted, and so I withdrew with every care to the nursery, where I climbed back into my bed, carefully managed my very full nappy to avoid any leaks, and mentally replayed to myself all I had witnessed. It seemed so much later that Juliet came in, hair damp from a shower, and let me take my nappy off. By that time I was very grateful for it, and was barely listening as she asked me if I'd had any more trouble. I was only half listening and didn't reply, as my sodden nappy bore witness to the fact I hadn't had that particular problem. I was, in honesty, a bit angry about being left so long, but I realised that I had kept it on in the hope that Peter would come to change me where normally I would have taken it off, and defended my initiative by saying it was already morning and I wasn't going to sleep any more. Juliet was as sweet as she could be, and in fairness she was usually very good to me. She actually apologised for giving me curry when she should have known what would happen, but she wanted to show Peter that nappies were horrible things. I forgave her, she is my big sister after all, even though I wished she hadn't used me as an example. I realised that my crush on Peter was at best a very poorly concealed secret, and in admitting it I somehow felt freed from it; I could now accept Peter as brother-in-law, whatever that might imply, and make the best of it. Buoyed by this new confidence I used the warmth between us to pull her leg, and made a joke about her saying "Oh God, Oh God! Oh God!", but it missed the mark completely, and a certain gleam came into her eye. I realised I'd overstepped the mark and made a hasty retreat; big sisters are not mocked with impunity. Gran rang after breakfast, Juliet spoke to her for a long time before she called me in to say my piece. I told her all about the engagement until she managed to staunch my excited flow of news, then she gave me a little lecture about letting Juliet and Peter have some privacy and some time on their own. She was right, of course, Grans are always right. Even when they're wrong, they're right, so I listened dutifully, was appropriately chastened and apologetic, and received absolution. Gran added one terrible rider; if I misbehaved or upset Juliet again, Peter was now authorised to spank me. I felt a certain coldness in the pit of my stomach. I had just been feeling my way into the idea of having a brother-in-law, but the idea of him having that kind of authority over me had never occurred, and I cringed from the thought. My ideas about Peter and I were more as equals on a level plain, not bent over his knee in pain and submission. No less, I had seen him spanking Juliet, and he was all too good at it. Those muscular arms and big strong hands became a thing to fear, as did the prospect of being hauled into Peter's lap. I decided to get my halo out, polish it, and wear it shining brightly over my angelic - and obedient - new self. I made myself scarce for an hour or so, playing in the garden with Asbo. This had another advantage in that Juliet hadn't noticed that I wasn't in a nappy, or hadn't bothered to demand that I wear one; I knew they were in short supply at the moment. The longer I stayed away from her the better chance I stood of getting away without one and not be accused of breaching Pembroke Rules. I heard a certain amount of banging and thumping from upstairs, so eventually my curiosity got the better of me and I went to see what was happening. I saw Peter carrying a bed-frame down from the attic, and followed him into the nursery where Juliet was already holding the tall wooden end of the great big cot that had been in the attic for years. I had seen it there myself only yesterday, and jokingly admired it, wondering what it would be like to sleep in, but I never thought they would take me seriously. Juliet had apparently taken me seriously. With a smile that suggested butter wouldn't melt in her mouth she recounted how much I had admired the cot, and how she was giving me the chance to try it out for real. I could only respond with the same humour that it was far too much to ask of her, and pointed out that it would be easy for me to climb out over the sides. She dished that one, saying she would fit them with barbed wire, and I tried the line that I might need to go to the bathroom in the night. That was smacked down almost before it had left my lips. When had I ever done that? True. Too true; I had always worn a nappy to bed and I had nearly always used it, eschewing the long walk to the loo, not to mention the unseen perils of the dark. I was just trying to think of another argument when Peter lifted me beneath the armpits, swung me over the side rail, dropped me onto the bed, then promptly raised the rail. It was a bit of a non-event; it only came up to my breast-bone and I could have vaulted the side easily since I was very good at gym, but I realised I was now on a level with Peter and he with me - there was perhaps some advantage in this if I could play it right. I laid down, and tried the mattress. There was a distinct crackling of plastic sheet - nothing had been spared - but there was also a feeling of being safe, protected from those strange things outside, and a three-parts forgotten smell which triggered distant memories of being warm and safe and loved. I decided it was probably worth a try for a night or two. I made a couple of jailbird jokes, and negotiated an extra half-an-hour on bedtime in exchange for the indignity I was suffering. It was all too readily granted; I should have gone for a whole hour. I was on my very best behaviour for the rest of the day, and particularly careful not to have any accidents on the sacred carpets of Pembroke. A much friendlier atmosphere and even a little glass of wine rewarded me at supper. Bedtime was indeed a little later than usual, and I was even grateful to go, as the wine seemed to have made me all tired and floppy. I came out of the bathroom quite looking forward to my bed when I saw Juliet folding a huge towelling square onto the changing table. I protested, not unnaturally - I mean such things were for babies and although I accepted I needed to wear some protection in bed, they were disposable ones, not the full-house baby things. Juliet apologised, and said we were almost out of disposable nappies and I would have to wear one of these. "But they're enormous!" "Yup. They're pretty big." she replied, "Gran had just brought some bigger ones for me when all of a sudden I dried up. I don't think they've ever been used. They're lovely and thick and fluffy, just come and have a feel!" Like a fool, I did, and indeed they were white and fluffy and apparently brand new - and HUGE. "I can't wear those! I couldn't even walk in them! They're enormous!" I said, forgetting this was supposed to be Angelic Amelia Day. Still, it was nearly over and I felt entitled to a grump. "They fitted me." said Juliet simply, "You'd be surprised how small they fold down" "You were two years older than me!" which was true. "Not much bigger, though." Which was also true; I was the tallest girl in my class, but you could hardly say I was fat. "I'll rattle!" "Quite difficult in a nappy." she replied evenly, "Now, let's see how they go." She began to fold the vast area of towelling onto the changing table, and indeed it got much smaller, but also much, much thicker. Juliet even added a couple of paper liners, which I felt to be insulting as I was never dirty - except of course for last night, I had to remind myself. I had already made the mistake of going up to the table, and was unable to find an excuse when she patted the top and said "Up you get!" Almost bemused, I climbed on to the table. I had finally run out of excuses. I even raised my backside as she slid the nappy under me. And lowered my backside, or tried to lower it; there was now an unaccustomed bulk between it and the table. Juliet produced a bottle of powder and passed the top under my nose. That took me right back. I never normally had powder with disposables as it made the tapes hard to stick, and I had forgotten how sweet it smelled. I lay back in the classic pose, arms folded up and well away from the nappy area, legs spread apart and slightly bent, while Juliet applied the essential ointment and followed it with a generous powdering, and I suddenly felt like I was enjoying the feeling of being cared for; the ointment, the powder, the feeling of being both vulnerable and safe, the cool vinyl beneath me, the soft towelling under my bottom, and then the front of the nappy being pulled up between my legs with just a slight rustle from the paper liner. I even rolled slightly while Juliet folded each side round, pulled them a little tighter and slipped the pins in. I lifted my legs while she tucked in the excess, and then lay back to savour the feeling of the surprisingly thick yet trim package around my loins. I couldn't really get my legs together, but then I didn't really want to. I tried a couple of little kicks to see what movement I had, and concluded it was not very much. Juliet reappeared in my field of vision. She asked what pants I would like. Pants? Any pants? Those frilly ones she already had in her hands would do. Might as well go the whole hog. I raised my feet, just like a baby does, and just as if I was a baby, Juliet scrunched the plastic pants up, reached through the leg-holes, seized my feet and slid the pants over them. I couldn't have objected even if I'd wanted to, and I was enjoying it so much I certainly didn't want to. I knew the routine, old instinct came back to me. I swung my legs off the table, reached out my hands, Juliet took them and pulled me to my feet, then she reached around me and pulled the waistband of the pants right up - a surprisingly long way - over my nappied bottom to my waist, making sure the nappy was well tucked in. Then apart from running her fingers around the leg elastics, tucking a couple of bits of towelling inside and pushing the elastics well up into my nappy - my nappy, not just any nappy now it was on me -I was done. I even got the ritual pat on the bottom to settle the seat and make sure I was properly padded out, then I was left standing unsteadily, running my own fingers around the legs of the baby pants in something like disbelief that it was all over and it felt so ....good! Juliet had one more surprise for me. From the great trunk in the attic she had also produced a shorty nightie, made from that Broderie Anglaise stuff that Gran likes so much, with frills on the hem to match the pants, lace on the top and on the little balloon sleeves. Juliet slipped it over my head, and arranged the bottom of it evenly over my pants. I staggered a few paces and caught sight of myself in the mirror. I looked the part perfectly, with just a pillow of baby pants between my legs at the front, and an inch or two of frills visible where the bulk of the pants swept down at the back. If this was supposed to be humiliation, it had failed spectacularly; I was delighted by the whole effect. All I needed was a ribbon in my hair. I waddled over to the little dressing-table in the corner and fumbled around looking for a ribbon. Juliet followed me, picked up a brush and started to brush my hair. That was a bit like painting the Forth Bridge, there was an awful lot of it and it insisted on curling in all directions, but she did manage to make some order out of it when Peter came in. I escaped Juliet's brush and waddled over towards him, holding my arms out for a hug. I knew I looked really cute and was determined to make the best of it, and the best of it I got. Peter picked me up, swung me over the side of the cot and lowered me gently onto the mattress. Juliet produced a dummy from somewhere and stuck it in my mouth, and Peter gave me a baby's rattle. I went along with the joke until Juliet produced a camera from I-don't-know-where, and took a picture of me. That broke all the rules. Playtime and fancy dress was one thing, but photos of me in a nappy were right out. I threw the rattle at Juliet and spat out the dummy. Peter caught the dummy and pushed it back in my mouth, and for him I took it; just for a moment while he was still holding me then I spat it out as a better thing became available. My face was close to his and I put my plan into action. No little girly kiss on the cheek for me. I wanted to find out what was so good about the way Juliet kissed, and now I had my chance, so I kissed Peter full on the lips, and held on tightly. For a moment he actually kissed me back, making a tingle run right down inside me, and I was afraid I might have had an accident in my nappy, but the moment passed, and we separated, leaving me with a warm glow such as I'd never felt before. I didn't even mind that Juliet had taken another photograph - I would make sure a got a copy of that, whatever else happened. Peter laughed, patted me on my bum - whatever is the fascination of that? - and gently eased me down onto the mattress of the cot. I made no resistance; it seemed the perfectly natural thing to do. The cool night air sapped the warmth from where Peter had been, and I pulled the bed clothes up to hold it in as long as I could. Juliet bent over, gave me a little kiss - a pale shadow of Peter's - and then raised the side of the cot. I made no resistance, holding on to the feeling of having Peter in my arms, afraid that if I moved it would fade away completely. Link to comment
freswith Posted September 23, 2011 Author Share Posted September 23, 2011 The Rat. I woke suddenly. It was still dark, utterly dark, the kind of darkness that bears no hint of dawn, with the total silence of a world in which everything is asleep except me. I was lying on my stomach looking out through the bars of my cot, or where the bars should be in the darkness. I was clammy and damp all down my front, but it wasn't from wetting the bed; it was perspiration which had condensed on the plastic undersheet. I rolled upright and sat up, exposing my damp front to the cool air, and revolted at the chill. My eyes could just make out the bars of the cot before me in the tiny beam of moonlight creeping round the curtains, and I ruminated on my situation. It was much too early to think of getting up, but I needed a pee. Listening to the sound of my own breathing, I considered the options. I could get out of the cot - no problem, it simply meant unlatching the side and lowering it - it couldn't be that difficult. Then going across to the toilet, again no problem. Pulling my pants down. Undoing one pin of my nappy and lowering it. Having a pee. Pulling the nappy up and re-pinning it. Pulling the pants back up. Making it all comfortable and leak-proof. Climbing back into bed. Sleeping until dawn. Easy. Then I thought: it's a cloth nappy - the very devil to get back straight. Juliet would be livid with me if I took it off and didn't replace it; I wasn't even supposed to touch it, after all. Damn that! I could do it! I could show her I could do it! I'd played along with her game, played the baby girl to obedient perfection; I'd done my bit. Now it was time to break the spell; I was going for a pee. Just to show I could. I stood up. The sides of the cot only came up to my chest, and were not really any obstacle. I fumbled for the catches in the darkness and found them. Easy to work, I lifted one end and then the other and set them free, but the side only dropped an inch or two. I muttered one of those words which made Gran angry and tried pushing it down. It didn't go; something was blocking it. I knelt down and felt for the obstruction. The footstool had been pushed under the cot side so it wouldn't go down. No problem, reach down and push it away. It didn't go. I said another one of those words. The side of the cot was resting on the footstool and the angles were all wrong; I couldn't shift it. I realised with a flash of annoyance that Juliet or Peter had been too clever for me, and had made it very difficult for me to get the cot side down. No problem; I was the best gymnast in my class - I could swing over that without difficulty. I grabbed the top rail and tried to vault over it. Miscalculation. The mattress was soft, but not really sprung, and it gave a soggy response and no lift. I got my knee onto the top rail but my stomach was still inside the cot, and the bulk of my nappy and pants were catching on the side. No problem; I reached down with my other foot to gain a purchase - but there wasn't one. I found myself clinging to the narrow top of the rail as the cot side rattled desperately and creaked in protest. I gave up the attempt before something broke and gave me an uncontrollable fall. I sat down in defeat. This wasn't the piece of sturdy gym equipment I was so used to vaulting, it was a rickety, noisy, fragile and dangerous unknown. If I broke it, there would be Hell to pay, and I would be accused of getting out of bed to spy on Peter and Juliet again. I thought it through again. My bladder gave a more urgent signal. I wasn't going to try getting over that side again as I plainly risked having two kinds of accident simultaneously. Oh well, I had a nappy on; a big one. Might as well use it for it's intended purpose. I let it go, and was relieved of the urgency as a warm wetness spread between my legs. No point in stopping it, and some pleasure in the relief; I knew I could sleep perfectly well in a wet nappy, just as I had done so nearly every night of my life. I lay back, one leg bent, foot against the other knee, and wriggled myself onto a less-damp piece of the bed. The thought struck me that nappies had their uses - they saved a long cold trip to the loo, and prevented a cold wet bed. As long as the grown-ups made me wear them I might as well use them; they weren't half as uncomfortable as I liked to make out. I realised that most of my grouse about them was of the indignity of having to wear them, and as long as nobody outside the family knew, and everybody inside the family tolerated them without chiding me, they were no real problem. I completed the emptying of my bladder with some satisfaction and drifted off to sleep. I woke again about the usual time, it was daylight outside and sufficient light was filtering around the thick nursery curtains for me to see the footstool that Juliet had jammed under the side of the cot, effectively trapping me inside. I was not amused, and remembering it was her job to do the washing I completed the saturation of my "necessary garment"; after all, waste not want not. Eventually, after what seemed like an age, Juliet came in, and I feigned deep sleep, giving her what I think is termed a "complete ignoral". Asbo instantly turned traitor and trotted out of the room - I presume his bladder was similarly full and he was anxious to deal with it. Juliet left and went downstairs. So much for my feigned indifference; I was now very wet about the nether regions and still in the same awkward situation. At least she could have changed me! I stood up - to be truthful I was more afraid of a leak than anything else - and leant on the side of the cot, legs apart. There were wet rings at the top of my legs where the pants were wicking through, so I stood with my legs spread in the hope my over-full nappy wouldn't overflow. Eventually Juliet returned, with of all things a cup of tea for me! I managed to avoid laughing, but only just; the very last thing I wanted was more fluid. Seeing my state she pulled the footstool out from under the cot side and released me. I staggered across the floor to the bathroom and slid the sodden package down my legs and climbed into the shower. If Juliet wished to confine me again, she could handle the sodden mass that resulted; I had made my point. The bathroom trick worked quite nicely this time, and by the time I came out, showered and fresh both Juliet and the nappy had vanished, and I was able to dress myself in clothes more suitable for my age; T shirt and denim shorts.. I went down for breakfast - Peter cooks an excellent breakfast - and no comment was made about my flagrant breach of Pembroke Rules. I managed to stay out of Juliet's way for most of the morning, amusing myself in the garden with Asbo until Peter came out to mow the lawn. I love hard work; I can watch it all day long, so I sat making myself a daisy chain while Peter rummaged in the garden shed for the lawn-mower. I suppose I should have gone to the toilet after breakfast, but my daisy chain was nearly finished and I calculated I could wait a few more minutes. What I didn't calculate for was the rat which Peter's disruption in the shed evicted, nor for the wretched creature bolting in my direction, leaping right into my lap and giving me the shock of a lifetime. I thought it was going to hit me in the face when a flying Asbo caught it in mid-air, and killed it with a single terrible bite a few inches from my nose. All I could se was Asbo's formidable teeth, his glaring eyes and the ghastly rat gaping in agony as its neck was broken by Asbo's terrible bite. That was just too much, I bolted from the scene, and found Juliet in front of me. I clung to her desperately and it was some time before I realised I'd had an accident in (or mostly through) my shorts, and while Juliet was holding me. It was a fair cop; I couldn't argue, and made the best of it as she carried out immediate first aid by sliding my shorts down and then shooing me up to the nursery. I tried the bathroom trick again, but this time it failed, and when I came out Juliet was waiting for me, tapping her foot. She gave me a fresh T-shirt, but as I put it on I saw she also had a terry nappy ready for me on the changing table. I hesitated, and she apologised; she said we were very short of disposables and it was that or nothing. Nothing certainly had its attractions, but I wasn't really in a position to argue, so I shrugged and submitted. Juliet nappied me slowly and deliberately, making every movement carefully, and I was quite grateful when she pulled the soft towelling up between my legs to cover my nakedness, and I even held it there while she pinned the sides. As the pants were pulled up around my waist I actually felt the better for it, the safety and security were exactly what my badly-rattled nerves were crying out for. Juliet then produced the pink romper, which I had laughed at the previous day when I found it in the attic trunk. It fitted perfectly, and once the straps had been buttoned to the bib I realised its real purpose was to stop the heavy terry nappy from gravitating down my legs. I felt a bit ridiculous, but I also felt warm and safe, and the realisation that my still-quivering muscles weren't going to produce another embarrassing accident was a great comfort to me. I suppose I should have objected to wearing such obvious baby clothes, but I wasn't really in a position to argue and strangely I actually found I liked them. I was still trembling from the shock of the rat, and the reassurance and security supplied by the nappy was very soothing; I knew that if my trembling muscles let go again there would be no more than a routine change instead of the huge fuss I had just been through. I eased the fit about my legs, then relaxed and set my mind to other things; a responsibility had been lifted from my shoulders and replaced by the much lighter straps of the romper. I made my way back to the patio, trying not to look at the spot where I had been sitting in case I saw the body of the rat, but Peter had cleared it all up. He came over to me with my daisy chain, still fresh, and very gently coiled it around my head like a crown. I stood very still, very conscious of his presence, very conscious of his hands delicately arranging the garland on my brow. Is this what a man does? How it all starts? As he stepped backwards I turned to see my reflection in the French windows, and very pretty I looked too, if I discounted all that was below my waist. What I was really looking at was the reflection of Peter where he stood behind me. I still treasure that image. We had lunch outside on the patio, which was wonderful. Afterwards, while Peter was clearing the table, Juliet took me aside and told me she intended to take a siesta. I realised straight away what she meant - that she and Peter were going to do it again - and I wondered why they needed to do so; surely once was enough? I certainly didn't want to upset her, and still less to upset Peter, so I went along with it. I merely struck a good deal over bedtime and left it at that. Ever the considerate "mother" she checked my nappy, as though I wouldn't know if I was wet, and asked if I wanted the loo. I replied that I did not, and truthfully, I didn't. I retired to the sun lounger with Asbo and watched the pair of them go indoors. Then I tried to sleep. Trying to sleep is one sure way of not being able to. I tried lying on my back, on each side and even my front. If I lay on my side the thickness of my nappy between my legs was uncomfortable. If I lay on my back the sunlight was too strong in my eyes, and the angle of the sun lounger made it quite uncomfortable if I lay on my front. I envied Asbo, who seemed to make himself comfortable almost anywhere, and after a while I just got bored with trying to sleep. I got up and wandered slowly down the garden, treading softly in the heat and silence of the afternoon. After a few moments Asbo joined me, ever anxious for a walk even if it was just around the garden. I didn't bother with my sandals, the better to enjoy the slightly damp feel of the freshly mown grass beneath my bare feet. I came to the pond, and sat for a while watching a dragonfly dipping its tail into the water, making perfect circles of ripples each time. I thought of Juliet's tale of meeting Peter here and wondered when I would meet a boy like that. I doubted if I would ever be that lucky, and besides all the boys I knew were such silly rough creatures and had horrible habits. I sat for a while longer, and still he didn't come. Eventually the hard ground started to get to me even through my well-padded rear, and I got up and moved on. Asbo gave up snapping at the gnats, and followed me, his medallion giving an occasional tinkle as he trotted behind as I made my way slowly up the garden. I began to get that certain feeling, and debated whether to hold it, to take all the bits off and use the loo, or to take Juliet up on her gracious offer and just do it in my nappy; after all, what is just one more wet nappy in the whole of life? I was saved by the bell, or rather by Juliet calling me in for a change. She must have known that I was overdue for a visit, so I decided to hold on a few more minutes and show her that I could remain continent if I chose to. Indeed she seemed quite surprised to find me dry, and congratulated me. It was a bit unnecessary, I know that if I have one accident in a day I am inclined to have others - it's just one of those bad days, but I don't have shocks like that more than once in a blue moon. Juliet said that She and Peter wanted us to go for a walk in the woods to give Asbo some exercise. I readily agreed. It was at his point that Peter came in, and for a moment I hoped he would change me, but I was out of luck. If Peter has a fault it is that he is inclined to take himself a bit seriously, and can be a bit pompous at times, just like Granpa and Uncle Percy. What is it with men?. His new-found responsibilities as my future brother-in-law to be had obviously given him ideas a bit above his station and he launched into The Lecture. I wasn't in a mood for all that waffle about being able to dry up if I really wanted to, and I managed to get my shot in first. Yes, Peter I would love to be dry, I would love to be like all the other children, but nature had dealt me this hand, and I was obliged to play it. I told him what it was like to have to be nappied like a baby every single night, and how much I wanted out of them. I sounded good - even I'll admit that, and all the time I was hoping he would change me, but in the way I intended, not the way he did. I think I won that exchange, and I began to realise that men were really quite easy to manipulate if I put my mind to it. I made sure I used the toilet thoroughly, and made no protest when Juliet said she was going to put a fresh nappy on me; even if I felt confident I could hold it, I certainly didn't want the indignity of another accident. The only thing I asked was that she use one of our dwindling stock of disposables; I made a point on not bothering what people thought about me if I went out nappied in public, but I didn't want to shout about it, and the big terry nappies were quite unavoidable. Juliet agreed readily and within a few minutes I was pulling my jeans on and trying to conceal the waistband where it rode up over my jeans. On that hot afternoon the shade of the woods was very welcome, and Asbo obviously felt the scenting conditions were ideal. We ran ahead as fast as I could in my well- padded state, and left the other two to follow in their own time. They certainly did take their time, too. Canoodling was Gran's word, I think, and she usually followed it with a disdainful sniff, but it seemed to give them great pleasure. We walked much further that I had expected, and even stopped at a pub for supper, which we had to eat on a table outside; the grown-ups have such silly rules about children and pubs, but at least it let me enjoy the sunset and the dusk of a beautiful evening. It was late when we got back, and later still by the time I'd had my bath and I should have been tired, but I was still full of the day. It had to be a cloth nappy, of course, and I made only the smallest objections as Juliet put it on me. They seem to go on forever, you know, with folds and pins and more folds, but the result was big and soft, and I was getting quite used to looking down and seeing a great mound of plastic pants down there with my legs sticking out of the bottom. The high moment was Peter picking me up as if I was a baby and laying me down in the cot. I even forgave Juliet for raising the side, but took careful note that this time she didn't jam the footstool underneath it. With lovely thoughts of Peter's strong arms around me I let myself drift away to sleep. Link to comment
warpiper Posted September 24, 2011 Share Posted September 24, 2011 this story is fantastic. it took me like a week to read it and now i am hooked. your writing is amazing freswith, if you don't write professionally already, i would suggest looking into it as a side career. -piper Link to comment
freswith Posted September 24, 2011 Author Share Posted September 24, 2011 Thank you! It's very kind of you. Unfortunately as soon as my car is fixed I plan to go and beat up some Welsh mountains, so the next episode might be a little delayed, but I am waiting for parts, so I might as well start writing. Yes, my other job is also writing - dry technical stuff, all financial advice and legal argument which must be translated in to the simplest possible English for dorks to read while yet being impossible to misrepresent.. It's nice to relax, let my imagination take flight, and to use the English language as is best used - graphic descriptive prose - Oh! Those half-a-million lovely words with all their subtleties of meaning, and a licence to distort them and play with them! Link to comment
freswith Posted October 12, 2011 Author Share Posted October 12, 2011 Gaining a Brother I woke early the next morning, desperately wanting to ease my bladder. That isn't normally a problem for me; I'm usually wet anyway so I just go where I am and get back to sleep. Unfortunately I was still dry and just for once I didn't feel like soaking myself, but before it got irresistible Peter came in and rescued me. He dropped the side of the cot - there was no footstool under it this time - and I bolted for the toilet. I got rid of the package in front of a rather surprised Peter and made it just in time. For once I didn't linger inside; there was no need to take a shower and I certainly didn't want Peter to get away while I was in there. I needn't have worried; when I came out he was waiting for me, standing by the changing table shaking out another pristine white terry nappy; the ugliness of its purpose concealed by the perfection of its form. Splendid! I couldn't have planned it better myself, now all I had to do was to act my part. I walked slowly towards him, head downcast, lower lip pushed out in a half-pout, then looked soulfully up at him from under my fringe. It was so easy; he began to melt visibly. I considered an appeal complete with moist eyes, but I didn't want him to give in. It worked beautifully. "Sorry, Amelia, but Juliet said you are to be in nappies for the time being, and orders are orders." I nodded sadly. That was indeed the custom. However, situations could always be manipulated. "Come on then!" He picked my up and sat me on the table. I sat there, head low, twiddling my toes. "Lie back!" he said, but I made no effort to do so. "Now come on!" and he pushed me gently in the tummy and I laid myself backward slowly. He kept one hand on my stomach to hold me down while the other hand pulled the folded nappy up under my legs. "Hup!" he said and I made no move. "Amelia!" with a slight edge in his voice, then he suddenly seized my ankles and lifted them with one hand while he slid the nappy under my backside with the other. I was being treated exactly like a baby, I had the whole of his attention, I was tingling all over and I loved it. I chose my moment, then asked "Please can I have some ointment, Peter? I don't want a rash!" He hesitated. "PLEASE!" It worked. The top of the pot came off and this time I raised my legs to my chest, a big dollop of cool ointment came right underneath me, and I held on to my knees while it was spread over my backside. I then released my grip and he spread it right up my front. It felt absolutely marvellous! I was still hoping for more while he was checking the fit of the sides, making sure the nappy was centred, but when he reached down between my legs for the front of the nappy I decided to extend the game a little. I watched as he drew the soft towelling up between my legs, and I reached down and tried - very gently - to push it away. Although Peter might not have known it, this was strictly forbidden and would have made Mum quite angry. "Now come on Amelia, don't play the fool!" he said. I giggled coyly, and played the fool some more. Peter didn't get angry, he just gave the back of my hands a playful smack, so I withdrew them sharply with expressions of pain and grief to hold them well away from my nappy area like a good child. That took will-power; I really wanted to get them onto Peter if I could. I gave a token wriggle as each side was drawn around me, but the only effect was a slightly tighter fit as all the slack was taken out, although I was very careful not to wriggle as Peter slid the pins in; I knew only too well how sharp they were; I had no intention of getting pricked and I realised that I really didn't want Peter to prick himself either. I lifted my legs as Peter folded the excess in - I certainly wasn't going to forgo this token assault on my most personal area, but I giggled and complained that it tickled, although if that was tickling I could do with much more of it. Peter paused for a moment, and I took the opportunity to adjust the fit of my nappy where it went around my legs, and had another wriggle. It was now a very snug-fitting nappy and certainly wasn't going to sag much - until I wet it, of course; I was quite looking forward to doing that as it would mean another change; after breakfast, perhaps. Eventually Peter picked up a pair of plastic pants from the cubby-holes beneath the changing table, and they rustled as he wrung them in his hands. At the sound I instinctively raised my legs and pointed my feet, and let him slip the leg-holes over them before sliding the cool smooth plastic up to my knees. It felt very good, and decided to play the "good baby" a bit longer. As the elastics started to grip my thighs I pressed down with my feet and lifted my bottom, and Peter took the opportunity to slip the waistband elastics under my bottom, following up with the waistband at the front. The bands were fairly tight and there was a lot of air trapped under them, which gave me the appearance of wearing a balloon. I reached down and pressed the air out, and had a whiff of that funny plastic smell they all have; the pants must have been almost unused, which explained why the elastics were a bit tight. My hands met Peter's, which were busy tucking the leg elastics up into my nappy. Something struck me. "Peter, where did you learn to do this? You're very good at it." I asked. Peter grinned, that lovely impish grin of his, and cleared his throat, which I recognised as being mostly a ploy to gain some thinking time. I watched his face carefully, as I realised an admission was on its way, and might well be filtered by layer upon layer of tact (adults are so good at telling fibs!), and I realised that there was a grain of truth trying to surface here. I held his hands. I didn't want him to get away before he answered. Eventually the reply came. "On your big sister." he said softly, and flustered himself into an embarrassed silence. I took several seconds to digest this little bombshell. Peter was only a year or so older than Juliet, and I knew that Juliet had still been in nappies when she met him, but only just. I had no idea he had been entrusted with such a serious matter as changing her nappies; I had always imagined Juliet being changed by Mum or Gran, the way I had been. I knew that Dad sometimes did it, and once or twice I'd had to put up with being nappied by my sitter, but the idea of Peter doing it to Juliet was entirely new. I wondered how Juliet had put up with the humiliation of being babied by a boy, but then I realised I had just discovered how glorious it could be. My skin felt as if it had been slightly sunburned, that feeling where everything that touches it tingles, but unlike sunburn I wanted more and more of the feeling. It was like being in the shower when the water was turned up too strong, but so much more intense because someone else was doing it: like the difference between being tickled and trying to tickle yourself. Was this how Juliet felt? Did she still feel like this? Did Peter still change her nappy sometimes for fun, or was the thing they did together even better than this? I sat up, to be closer to Peter, and swung my legs off the table. I raised my face to him, expecting a kiss, but all I got was a cursory peck on the forehead and the inevitable post-change pat on the bottom. Peter then turned and walked out of the nursery saying he had to make breakfast leaving me all fired up and nowhere to go. Are all men like that? I thought I would follow Peter downstairs, but the first couple of steps were quite a shock; my nappy was much bulkier than my usual disposables, and I had to waddle a bit to take account of the huge plastic pillow between my legs. I gave it a quick hitch to loosen it and shifted the leg elastics a bit, and found I could walk, but only after a fashion. I took a pace or two, musing on how nice it had been having Peter's attention for so long, and remembering how firm and strong his hands had felt as they applied the ointment, and how warm and soft the nappy had been as he wrapped it firmly around me and how gently he had tucked the legs in, and how cool the plastic pants had felt as they slid up my legs. I wanted all that again, and as soon as possible. It was something I had which linked Peter to me, something which big sister Juliet didn't have, and my hands explored the slippery curve of my baby pants with ecstasy. I caught sight of myself in the dressing-table mirror and examined what I had for so long taken for granted. A mane of dark curly hair, far more than Juliet had, but beneath it there was nothing. No curves, I just went straight down. Not much of a tummy either; I was the tallest in my class, even counting the boys, and the best at gym. Below my waist it all went to pieces, however, and I suddenly thought I looked like Donald Duck - huge puffy white pants, wrinkled elastic closing them at the legs, and then thin straight legs going down to some quite big feet. Gran always said I was like a puppy and would grow to match my feet, and if that was true I had a lot of growing to do. I swung my hips sideways a bit, but it was no use; I was as straight as a ruler and nearly as thin. I lacked Juliet's curves, no breasts pushed at the front of my pyjama top, no waist was visible above my pants; I was still a child, a baby in fact, and still very much in nappies. Those promised curves were still a world away, as was the promised continence and freedom to choose my own underwear. I turned away from the mirror and the rustle of my plastic pants and the pillow of nappy between my legs rubbed it all in. I was a baby who had been lifted from the confines of my baby's cot, potted, nappied again promptly on the changing table before I could have an accident, and then left to play in the nursery while my sitter went to make me a feed. I saw the dummy lying on the dressing-table where Juliet had left it, and in a moment of self-hatred I put it in my mouth and sucked it aggressively at my image in the mirror. I was ten, going up eleven; there was an awfully long way to go before I became a woman and could really do something about Peter, and I wasn't making any progress. I waddled over to the window and watched Asbo doing his bit on the lawn; the sight made me want to have a pee, but there was nowhere to do it except into my nappy, and it was a bit too soon to do that; ideally I would wait until after breakfast so I could try to get Peter to change me again. Eventually there came the sound of Peter carrying the tea-tray into the second bedroom, accompanied by the jingle of Asbo's medallion, so I went over to join them, remembering to get rid of the dummy only at the last second. Juliet looked a bit worried when she saw me, and I took it that she thought I was still in my night-nappy, which would normally be wet at this time. I put her mind at rest by telling her that I'd been dry and that Peter had changed me into a fresh one anyway, but she didn't look too pleased by that either. Anyway, I sat - cross-legged by the virtue of my too-tight nappy - on the end of the bed and asked what was planned for the day. Buying more disposable nappies! What a Bore! When was Peter going to buy her a ring? Not yet, besides they wanted to do that privately. That made me feel marvellous - the complete gooseberry. Peter then suggested we go out to the safari park to see the animals, which sounded like a great idea. Almost immediately Juliet pointed out that it was a nappy trip; we might have to stay in the car for quite a long time and I agreed - I certainly didn't want to risk an accident in Peter's car - but insisted on wearing a disposable as, although I didn't mind being seen to wear a nappy in public, a disposable could be concealed in a way a terry nappy could not, and I wouldn't attract curious stares and polite sympathy. Not that I would need it, of course, but if I had one on there was always the chance I could get Peter to change me again. Suddenly I had an image of being changed in the back of Peter's car in the middle of a car park with lots of people looking on, and the idea stopped me in my tracks. Then I thought: "Damn them!" and for a moment I felt a strange electric thrill at the prospect of doing something so outrageous in public. We went to the chemist's shop and bought a huge bag of nappies, much too large to wrap, but at least Juliet spared me the humiliation of making me carry them myself. We had stopped by the jewellers on the way and had looked at the rings. We stopped at the jewellers on the way back, too, and lingered a little longer. When we got back to the car Juliet put the bag of nappies into the back hatch while I climbed into the little bench seat in the back, gathered Asbo up with me, and then to my surprise Peter closed the door. He wagged a finger at me and told me to "stay" as though I was a dog like Asbo, and then took Juliet back to the jewellers. I waited patiently. The trouble was Peter's old car - an MGB so I'm told - only had two doors and so when I was sitting in the tiny back seat I couldn't reach the door handle and was stuck there; at least both the front windows were wound fully down, and I wouldn't be too hot. I knew what they were doing, and I wouldn't have interrupted that for anything, even though I was stuck sitting there with what was obviously a big bag of my nappies visible through the back window. While I waited I saw two of my classmates - Margaret and Linda, whom I wouldn't call my friends - crossing the road in front of me. My blood ran cold. If they saw me sitting there with that huge bag of nappies behind me they would come to taunt me, and although the nappy I had on under my onesie and shorts was not at all obvious, its concealment would not resist a careful and knowing inspection. I crouched down in the close confines of the back seat cuddling Asbo with me in case they saw him or he barked. Asbo was very much my trademark in the village, and everybody would recognise him, but unfortunately he recognised Margaret and Linda and as they came past the car he barked. They turned and saw me , and within a moment had also seen the bag in the back. "Oh! Lookie, Lookie!" cried Margaret, the fatter of the two. "Ickle Diddums Amelia with her big bag of nap-naps, all tucked up in the kiddie seat! Come and see, Linda!" Linda was less fat, but probably the uglier of the two. She went round the driver's side and looked in. "Well, well, so it is! Baby Amelia! All on her ownio, and look, Mags, she's actually got one on right now How cute! Poor Little Amelia, are you wet baby girl? Wantums change? Wet nappy not nice, not nice at all!" I tried to wriggle my bum down into the seat, but the only effect was to make my nappy become more visible at the legs of my shorts. I felt myself reddening. "Aaaww, we're making her cry!" jeered Margaret, "Poor Ickle Baby, shut in nasty car in hot, hot sun, not even a baby bottle to drink from, and big wet nappy on. Who'd have thought it! Come to Aunty Mags, Baby. Needum pat on back. Bring up windums. Needum nappy change too. Nice clean dry nap-nap make Baby Amelia smile again!" She put her face inside the window, the better to rub her message in. Bad Idea! The cornered Asbo simply exploded, his territory and his mistress threatened, and he lunged snarling at Mags as a veritable tyrannosaur of white teeth and pink gums. I held on to his collar as hard as I could and his terrible jaws snapped shut a quarter of an inch from the end of Mag's nose, but in her alarm she jerked backwards, hitting her head on the doorframe hard enough to rock the entire car, and make her spectacles recoil down her nose and dangle off one ear. Linda stepped back in alarm, and a passing car had to brake with a squeal of tyres. At that moment I was much relieved to see Peter and Juliet walking towards the car. This wasn't quite true, as Juliet appeared to be floating several inches above the ground, and smiling from ear to ear. Margaret and Linda must surely have sensed the wave of happiness radiating from the couple, but in a moment Peter, alerted by the squeal of tyres, straightened up with a thunderous look, whereupon Linda saw him and recognised him as the Responsible Adult. "Quick! Mags! Get away!" she hissed and Margaret, no beginner at the sudden departure, desperately pushed her spectacles back onto the bridge of her nose, took one look at the approaching Peter, and joined Linda in a hasty retreat, not even slowing as she rubbed at the back of her head. I looked back towards my saviours, and saw the sunshine flash from the jewel on Juliet's finger. At that moment I accepted that Peter was hers, game set and... well... almost... match. I realised that I might have lost the hope of a lover, but I had gained the protection of a big brother who would surely defend me against the cruel jibes of my enemies. 1 Link to comment
babykeiff Posted October 13, 2011 Share Posted October 13, 2011 Freswith, again excellent work. You really know how to captivate an audience, and make each character live and breath. I know that Pembroke rules - diapered if there is a case of accident - exist. If they are enforced so strongly - why was in that Amelia could get away with waking up wet, and get out of being diapered and then wet herself cause of the rat.... AND in this episode, when she woke up dry, be forced to be diapered by Peter. I am aware that Amy has a crush of sorts on Peter. I thought that the rules meant that whenever out - that Amy was diapered, but that would suggest that she was diapered during school - however, in this episode, during the hazing, it is a new thing that she is 'caught' in a diaper. That would mean that Amy can last the day in school (in care of others) without diapers, but can't last at home in the care of her parents / guardians without the need for diapers, unless Amy tries to manipulate the situation by delaying in the bathroom in the mornings to avoid getting diapered. It almost seems convenient - to Amy, for her crush to be diapered by Peter, and convenient to not be diapered while out in the back garden. With Amy's weak control overnight ( I think that is the suggestion here) she would be diapered overnight until control was gained. With her perceived weak control daytime, she would be diapered during the day always - which would include school etc, and get changed by the school nurse etc as needed. Therefore, the incident of Amy being found in diapers by other school attendees would not be so new to them. I'm aware that once a child gets an idea into their head, they are very reluctant to let it go, but after 8+ years, would it not have got old and boring. When a child growes up with a 'different' person, and starts young enough, original differences are easy to accept, and rarely are the effected children jeered about this. Since Amy and Asbo are so recognised together, would it not be very foolish of the two girls ( Linda & Mags ) to try and jeer Amy when they are aware that Asbo is so near - as he usually is. Even if they forgot about Asbo, was it not Asbo's bark that alerted Linda & Mags to Amy's presence? Amy is down in Pembroke. She is not near her own locality or her own school. I thik she is about 4 - 6 hour drive from home. If that is the case, there is only two logical explainations for Linda & Mags to be around Pembroke - They are sisters / school-freinds on holiday. Also, Asbo may not be that well known around Pembroke unless that is the area that Amy is normally around. This is strange since Amy & Juilets father, engineer & company owner, is based in London area. More of this is highlighted with the 'bonus' offered to Juliet to assist her to get dry (previous story) - horse riding AND going to a proper girls school via train - and meet up with Peter when the train reached Pembroke area. This would specify that Juliet / Amys home is a train distance from Pembroke, and that Pembroke is on the way to a decent boys & girls senior school, and that is without refering to a map. Add to this that Pembroke is not located as a costal town, and that Amy & Juliets father have gone via Pembroke to the coast on a sailing trip, this could easily specify the distances involved. Considering everything, I think that Asbo is only strong in Amy's eyes, and as you said earlier, is Amy's alter ego. Amy may be a lot more frail and weak than what we would expect of a 10 year old, and the diapering may be addressing a physiological need rather than a physical need, which could explain the reason that Juliet is babying her little sister (the crib, blankie, etc). What Juliet is saying for her actions to Grandma may be partly a subterfuge (Amy leaving the bed and spying on Peter & her), but Grandma is wise enough to understand, and agree and support Juliet's actions. There is a huge amount of layers in this story, and every line answers some questions but poses even more. I think I have only touched the surface. That is, in my humble opinion, the mark of a good story-teller, and you seem to do this with ease. Again, keep up the excellent work. 1 Link to comment
freswith Posted October 14, 2011 Author Share Posted October 14, 2011 Let's take them one by one. Amelia - she hates to me called Amy, just as Juliet is never called Julie - has enough bladder control to be able to go through a school period, but makes a point of going to the toilet between each class, and the teachers know she has to. Gran lays down Pembroke rules - she paid for the carpets - and feels that it is better to let the child go play rather than keep hounding them to go to the toilet every few minutes. It was how she herself was brought up. Her daughter Pat is doubtful about this and Juliet is downright against it, but Peter obeys Pembroke Standing Orders. For convenience in my own mind, I place Pembroke in Woburn Sands or Aspley Guise, and Amelia Grace's home in Lidlington, a big house at the upper end of the village. Both houses are absolutely fictional. The Grace family business is agricultural machinery and is at the other end of Lidlington, again absolutely fictional. They are about five miles - not hours - apart. Juliet's later home at Helston is five or six hours hard driving away, and Vickie's home at Bristol is about two and a half hours - both well beyond the hour-or two endurance of the children's bladders - hence "nappy trips". The cribbing is a bit of fun; Juliet decides to keep Amelia in her place - literally, and get her own back for the spying. Juliet would never spank Amelia, of course. Amelia turns the tables by going along with it, and smooching Peter. The rivalry might look ludicrous to an adult, but is perfectly logical to Amelia. Peter has a slight DL bent, which is actually why he went over the fence to Juliet in the first place - if you read that encounter again, it will be more apparent. Amelia goes to the local school, where she is bullied and isolated because of her relaltive wealth and connections as well as her bladder problem, and Woburn Sands is the nearest High Street with Chemist and Jeweller (and car parking), so the two school friends would go there shopping and to "hang out". Amelia got out of being nappied on that particular morning by working the bathroom trick - lingering in the bathrom in the morning while Juliet loses patience and goes off to do something else - a bit of a deliberate slip on Juliet's part as she despises Pembroke Rules herself. The result was a disaster because of the shock of the rat being killed virtually in Amelia's face. Juliet then decides Pembroke Rules might be offensive but necessary. Peter might think he is "force diapering" Amelia, but actually Amelia is playing for it - she has discovered that being diapered by Peter is actually very pleasant, and actually gets her first real sexual experience at that moment. She is on course to become a raving ABDL. Linda and Mags forgot about Asbo in their enthusiasm to bait Amelia - the spoilt little rich girl who lives in the big house at the end of the village. We will see more of them later. It gets worse. The girls went/will go to senior school in Bedford, on the Bedford-Bletchley train line. There are four large private schools in Bedford, two for boys and two for girls. Peter went to Bedford School (as will Matt), which is about third in terms of providing officers to the services. Juliet and Amelia went to the High School, (where Joanna Lumley went). Linda and Mags go to the Dame Alice Harpur.- one notch down market, so they will all go in on the same train. Asbo, once he sinks his teeth into you, will hang on to the death. He's a Jack Russell Fox Terrier of a country strain, and he is capable of going down a vixen's earth and killing her - and her cubs. He is only upstaged by coming face-to-face with a tiger. Even Asbo knows his limits. Link to comment
weeboy Posted October 27, 2011 Share Posted October 27, 2011 Bump Hi Freswith, Missing this story again!!! Is there a new chapter coming soon.....Please!!! Link to comment
freswith Posted October 27, 2011 Author Share Posted October 27, 2011 How can I refuse? I have it about half-written, and I'll try to get it finished over the weekend. I have just been so busy lately with work and other things - my apologies to my loyal and attentive readership. Link to comment
freswith Posted October 29, 2011 Author Share Posted October 29, 2011 Peter on my Mind The trip round the wildlife park was a great success, particularly for me. Juliet decided she needed a pee - I think there is a lifelong bladder weakness in our family - but it is forbidden, not to say somewhat foolish, to get out of the car while you are surrounded by lions and tigers. Unfortunately we were stuck in a queue of very slow moving cars as the people inside them gaped at the big cats, and the cats ignored them back with a truly feline indifference. I was laughing. Not only did I not want to pee, but I had my nappy on and a huge bag of changes in the back. For once I saw an advantage in my problem; it left me very self-contained and independent in a way I never before realised - I could have stayed there for a couple of weeks if I'd had to, although all we had to eat were the raw vegetables Juliet had bought in town. I could really sympathise with my big sister, but there wasn't much I could do, until some demon inside me gave me an idea. I opened the nappy bag, took one out, and passed it forward over Juliet's shoulder. In return I got a glare that could have stripped paint. Peter was trying very hard not to laugh; I think if he had done, it would have been one of the shortest engagements on record. It was also a sweet revenge for Juliet's joke on me with the drop-side cot, and I relished it. Fortunately for all of us, a gap opened up in the queue of traffic and we got out of the enclosure quite swiftly, and Juliet was able to make a dash for the toilet. I sauntered along behind her. I wanted a pee, but hadn't been under any stress about it as I could have gone any time I wanted, at the risk of a change in the car. Come to think of it, it would have been impossible in Peter's car, and I seem to remember he had said something about "It's impossible to do it in a sports car." but I didn't associate whatever-it-was with nappy-changes on a ten-year-old girl. I managed to handle the nappy in the loo, and the tapes resealed. I had had some practice, after all, and wondered why they never left me to nappy myself at bedtime, but that's just the way things were. We had lunch in the caf Link to comment
weeboy Posted November 10, 2011 Share Posted November 10, 2011 freswith thanks that was great as usuall Is there a new chapter in the pipeline.....Soon, im getting withdrawel symtoms lol Link to comment
freswith Posted November 10, 2011 Author Share Posted November 10, 2011 Yup, coming up soon. Just in polishing and checking. Might add a sentence here or there to give the odd little twist. Read it through, make sure it flows smoothly. That kind of thing. Link to comment
freswith Posted November 11, 2011 Author Share Posted November 11, 2011 Patch I woke quite sharply and realised I was about to pee. No problem. Nappy on. Wet it. Go back to sleep. End of problem. Then something else stirred in my mind. Here I was, Ten years old, going up eleven, sleeping in a cot and wetting my nappy like a baby. All right, I was wet nearly every night anyway. It was expected of me. That's why I was still in nappies at night. Even if I was dry for a night or two, I would still be put into my nappy at bedtime, and when - not if - I was wet in the morning it would be taken off me and no more would be said. It wasn't so much a matter of if I would be wet as when I would need to be changed. I might as well carry on and wet this one, as it would almost certainly be wet in the morning anyway. I rolled over on to my back on the rustling plastic which covered the mattress just in case my baby pants leaked, and prepared to empty my bladder thoroughly into my nappy. Get it over with. Get back to that lovely land of sleep. Enjoy the warm clammy feeling as it went down between my legs and spread around my bottom. I knew it wouldn't stop me sleeping, I knew it was easier to sleep in a wet nappy than with a full bladder, so just let it go. I opened my eyes, and in the dim light coming in from the nursery doorway, I saw that the side of the cot was up. Damn! Juliet had promised she wouldn't do that! I had promised I wouldn't get out of the cot and go to spy on her and Peter, and she had still put the side up to keep me in as though I was a little baby. I would show her that it didn't work! I stood up. The side of the cot only came a little above my waist, and I knew I could vault it easily, although I had failed to do so the other night. This time I would do it better. Go over the corner! No problem! I slung my leg up behind me, rolled over the side and, under proper control this time, I landed neatly on my feet. I was always good at Gym - the best in my class - and that was really very easy when I put my mind to it. First things first. I went over to the toilet, pulled my pants down, undid one pin and carefully lowered my nappy, had my pee, and then pulled it up again. Due care and attention; the pin went back in and the nappy was secure again. There! I always said I could manage these things by myself given half a chance! I pulled my pants up and tucked in the errant bits of towelling around the legs. Now to see what Juliet was up to - after all, she had broken her promise to me, so mine to her was also void. I went softly to the nursery door, which was already part open, and peeked out. The landing light was on, but no other sounds could be heard. My flushing of the toilet had apparently gone unnoticed and I still had the initiative. I decided to explore further, enjoying the thrill of mischief. I went along the landing very quietly, listening for any movement, ready to slip back into the nursery at the slightest sound of adult footsteps. I reached the top of the stairs and peeked over the banister. The lounge lights were still on, and the murmur of voices came from within. I hitched my nappy and pants up a little - I hadn't got the pin back in quite tight enough - and went to the top of the stairs. The murmurs became a little more distinctive, and I recognised my mother's voice. So they were back! And Juliet hadn't told me! All promises to Juliet were now void and I felt justified in doing whatever I liked, and what I liked was to get into the action. I went downstairs, barefoot and silent, and reached the lounge doorway unnoticed. Mum and Dad were sitting on one of the sofas facing Juliet and Peter on the other one, with a bottle in a sort of silver bucket thing and those funny tall glasses with Champagne in them. I liked Champagne, not just for the bubbles but also because I always had to steal it, which made it taste much better. Time to make an entry. Juliet saw me first with a sharp question as to what I was doing out of bed. I had an easy answer - all the easier because it was truthful - that I had got up to take a pee. By the time I had got this out I was across the room and next to Mum, who was obviously pleased to see me and took me into her lap. I submitted to the inevitable nappy check without objection and made clear that I had used the toilet and replaced my nappy. All good Brownie points, and now I was in Mum's arms - always the best place to be - I had no fear of what Juliet might say; I was here for good! To my surprise, Juliet wasn't angry, and gave me a glass of orange juice. She even put a little bit of Champagne in it, winking at Dad as she did so. That broke the old rules of no alcohol for Amelia, and of no drinking after tea, but I was in the mood for breaking rules, so I took it eagerly. I told Mum all that had happened while being careful to leave out the grisly bits about the rat and my accident, and then conversation went on to boring grown-up things and I became a bit drowsy. I remember Dad carrying me upstairs, and Mum taking my nappy down again to put me on the toilet before pinning me back in rather more firmly, and I remember being tucked into the cot again. The last thing I remembered about that evening was Mum putting the side of the cot up again. Oh Well! I woke again early in the morning with an aching bladder. From the sunlight peeking around the nursery curtain, it was the usual time, but plainly no-one else in the house was moving. I lay back, and once again thought about letting it all go in my pants, but then I thought this was my third dry night in a row, and that equalled my record. It would be a good achievement to return home on, even if normal service was resumed tonight, so I climbed out of the cot - that manoeuvre was getting easier with practice, and went to the toilet. I had intended repeating last night's trick of removing one pin and replacing it afterwards, but I decide to push my luck on the strength of my third dry night and Mum's obvious good mood, so I took the whole wretched thing off and just dropped it on the floor. As I finished using the toilet I wondered what to do next. There was no sound of adults moving around, so I had things to myself. I took a shower, soaping off the last of the ointment, and returned to the nursery, almost tripping over my nappy where I had discarded it, and out of sheer habit wandered over to the changing table. By the time I got there I realised how silly it was, as there was no grown-up waiting impatiently for me with a fresh dry nappy laid out ready for my backside and a pot of ointment open and ready. My train of thought rolled on. I might just as well try the reverse of the bathroom trick and dress myself, sans nappy, in the hope that no-one would question it; Mum would think that Juliet had seen to me, and Juliet would think Mum had done so. I was fully dressed by the time I heard Dad's footsteps on the landing. I waited slightly nervously as he went past, but he didn't come in. I thought of the nappy and pants still lying on the floor, and I picked them up, removed the pins, and spread the nappy out on the changing table, the better to show off its dryness. As I finished I heard the landing boards creak again with Mum's softer tread, and I was standing by the window, as far away as possible from the changing table when she came in the door. She stopped for a moment, looking at the empty cot, before she saw me standing beside the window. "I got myself up. I was dry, so I took my nappy off." I said, part confession, part challenge. Taking my nappy off was always the great sin, and I awaited the explosion. "Good. Well done." Mum replied flatly, as though it was perfectly normal. "Three nights in a row!" I said proudly, determined to provoke at least some reaction. "That's splendid," replied Mum, "Make sure you pack everything, we'll be going home straight after breakfast. Dad wants to get back to the firm; he never meant to be away this long." And with that she turned and went out. No anger. No scene, just as though this kind of thing happened every day. She didn't even check the nappy, but took me at my word. I felt a little deflated; I had been relishing a bit of a scene so I could make a big thing of staying dry three whole nights in a row, but it wasn't to be. It wasn't to be after the fourth night either; or the fifth. Back at home, and back in disposables, I just got used to taking my dry nappy off and chucking it in the pail. Mum said not to keep it around, as the tapes never seemed to stick for a second night, and they could never be trusted. I became adept at getting up in the night and having a pee, then refastening the tapes and returning to bed. Neither Mum nor Juliet ever commented, and after a week or so I had the temerity to ask how long I would have to keep wearing nappies, an indirect way of pointing out they were no longer really necessary. "Three months" came the flat answer. Mum needed to be sure about things, but we would have to take it one night at a time. Three months! Ages and Ages! I just knew I couldn't keep my run of luck up for so long. I watched the bag of nappies gradually deplete. When it was nearly empty I pleaded my case again, but Mother argued that if I thought unused disposables were wasteful I could always go back to using cloth. I had nothing inherently against that, since I now associated them strongly with being changed by Peter, but I shuddered at the thought of terry nappies drying on the washing line and signalling my humiliation to the whole village, so the following day yet another bag of disposables appeared and the opportunity had slipped away. Three months. If I could keep it up, I would be out of the wretched things by Christmas. Christmas! That meant going to Pembroke and that meant Pembroke Rules. The prospect of being allowed out of nappies at Christmas was very attractive, and it was a real possibility now. As for this evening, I laid back with my eyes closed and tried to imagine it was Peter who was putting my night-nappy onto me, his strong hands applying the ointment, that I was opening my legs so that he could pull my nappy up over my front, wrapping me safely and securely, that he was folding the sides closed and taping them securely. The funny electric feeling often came, though not so strongly, and I actually began to look forward to bedtime and to enjoy the ritual I had loathed for so many years. After Mum left I would run my hands down over the smooth plastic thinking of him, tracing the route his hands had taken around the elastics at the legs. I knew it was forbidden for me to touch my nappy in case I made it leak, but the thick padding did seem to feel rather good, and as I stayed dry each morning the bad feelings, the failure and the humiliation that attended the stripping of a wet nappy each morning began to fade and I enjoyed the attention I received when it was put on and the feelings of safety and security that went with wearing them. Things were slightly easier at school. I was in the senior year at the little village school, and there were no older girls to tease me anymore. Margaret and Linda were still there, in the middle of their little coterie, but I did my best to stay out of their way. They had told everybody about seeing me in a nappy, of course, but it was old hat by now, and nobody really rose to it. I even made a couple of friends amongst the other girls they'd bullied. I was the tallest child in the school now, taller even than the boys, and my prowess at gym and sports made me more popular; I was amongst the first to be chosen when a team was made up, and the first to be invited to join an expedition, especially when it involved mischief. At home things were a little easier, too. Mum and Dad were busy with Juliet, preparing for her going to college at the end of the month, and I was decidedly on the back burner. At bedtime one evening I was called to Dad's study where it was obvious there had been an intense discussion. I entered rather nervously not because I had done anything wrong, or at least nothing of which Mum and Dad might have heard, but the air was electric with disputation. Juliet came straight out with it. The matter was Patch, Juliet's skewbald pony, which had been hers since she had parted with the lovely Shandy a few years before. I had loved Shandy, a gentle palomino, and had hoped to inherit her, but although I had had lots of riding lessons (to "strengthen my pelvic floor"), I had always had to make do with a riding-school pony, and the promise was that I could have a pony of my own when I got out of nappies, like Juliet had been given Shandy. Alas, Juliet had outgrown Shandy quite quickly and all my pleadings to inherit her had been to no avail. Patch was bigger; at fourteen-one he was close to being a horse, and was considered too big for me, although I had been allowed to have a ride on him from time to time. Now Dad was laying down the law. He wasn't going to keep Patch at livery for Juliet when Juliet was living a couple of hundred miles away in Bristol. Someone had to look after him and exercise him, and my heart leapt when I realised that Juliet had me in mind for the job. Mum was dead against it; Patch was too big for me, too strong for me, I wouldn't be able to handle him, I would have falls, and besides I wasn't out of nappies yet and the big incentive would be worthless if it was discounted. I was at something of a disadvantage there, since I was already in my night-nappy and very conscious of the padding under my bottom and between my legs, but I fought my corner. Yes, I could ride him - I'd done so on many occasions. Mum's raised eyebrows were countered by Juliet's brisk nod, and I realised that Juliet hadn't told Mum about those surreptitious rides. I was surprised and delighted to receive this support from my big sister, as our relations had often been rather strained. Dad looked carefully at his elder daughter, then at me, and drew a deep breath. I held mine. Then Dad slowly nodded and gave his decision. Patch would be kept on. I would exercise him, and would have to learn how to look after him. Juliet would ride him when she came home from college. I danced for joy, or as best as I could with the bulk between my legs, and threw my arms around him and kissed him wildly. He picked me up, sat me on his lap, and gave me a little lecture on taking care of horses and not trying any big jumps and not staying out too long. I almost listened to him, but my mind was full of rolling green fields and far horizons, and suddenly realised I was about to wet myself. Nappy or none, it would all come to grief if I did but I gritted my teeth, crossed my legs and hung on. Mum read the signals correctly, took me out of Dad's lap, and made me submit to a very public nappy-check, I think partly to underline her point that I was still in nappies, then she whisked me off to the toilet. I could hear Dad and Juliet chuckling in the background, but I didn't care - I had held it and Mum would support me in any denial that might be necessary. I lay back in bed, one leg crooked to accommodate my freshly re-taped nappy, and counted my blessings. So what if I was losing Juliet - and for that matter Peter - but I was gaining Patch, and for the first time Mum seemed to accept that I was on my way out of nappies forever. 1 Link to comment
jbz2079 Posted November 12, 2011 Share Posted November 12, 2011 Another great update, Thank You. Link to comment
freswith Posted November 12, 2011 Author Share Posted November 12, 2011 Many thanks - I have quite a few more episodes planned. Link to comment
spark Posted November 12, 2011 Share Posted November 12, 2011 You've managed to create so many characters, and writing the same story from all the perspectives is interesting. As you said way back, this more of an anti-diaper story, which is what makes this material fascinating. I've really enjoyed reading this series. Link to comment
freswith Posted November 15, 2011 Author Share Posted November 15, 2011 Many thanks - I've got another episode in the polishing stage and I'll put it up by the weekend. Link to comment
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