Phone Conversation

[jbz2079]

Another enjoyable addition, Thanks Freswith.

[WBDaddy]

Stunning - I'd say as usual, but no, there was an even higher level of art there than you'd previously achieved.

[freswith]

Many thanks for your feedback - I am enjoying writing this - but the next episode is a little longer and more complicated than most, and is taking a bit longer to get right. Please bear with me, I will try to post it sometime this weekend.

[freswith]

Caught!

Little wordles, little wordles, little wordles: I ache therefore I am! I swam back into consciousness as the sunbeam crept around the curtain and shone painfully into my eyes. My consciousness extended slowly to encompass my body, my bed, my location, the day of the week, and, very slowly and reluctantly, the happenings of the night before as best as I could remember them. Oh God! Did that really happen? I shifted my position slightly and the soggy mass around my loins affirmed that it did, and it was just as bad as I thought it had been. I stayed still for a moment, the effort of movement having tired me again then, after an interval of many seconds or minutes, tried to reboot my comatose body. I was wet, or rather my faithful nappy was wet. It was wet between my legs. It was wet around my hips. It was wet under my bottom, and it appeared to be wet up to the waist at my back. It was thoroughly soaked; I must have wet myself several times in the night after the first inundation. If I moved I only made it worse, so I stayed still. I listened for movement in the house. After an unconscionable time I heard footsteps approaching the door, which was followed by the sound of it opening and Aunt Emma's cheerful voice; "Come on, Sleepyhead! I've left you as long as I can, and even longer. It must have been a hard night!"

I groaned my answer; it had indeed been a hard night, and now it was a hard morning. Nothing daunted, Emma pulled back the bedclothes, and without so much as a by-your-leave, pushed her fingers up the leg of my plastic pants.

"Oh dear! Oh well, at least you had your nappy on." she said, in a slightly less cheerful tone of voice. "Let's get you up and change you."

Change! A fresh nappy! Suddenly it was the best sound in the world. A fresh, dry nappy and then back to sleep. Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to accept the terry nappies of an outrageous Auntie or, by opposing, wet them. To sleep, to sleep - perchance to wet, aye, there's the rub! Well, never mind, the warmth of the bedclothes having departed, I opened my eyes, squinted against the sunlight, and tried to get up. At the second attempt, with Emma's assistance I managed it, and stood swaying at the side of my bed. Without further ceremony she put her hands in the sides of my nappy and pants and slid them down my legs, the leg elastics left a cold trail as they slid down my thighs, and my wet bottom suddenly met the cool air and made me lurch back to full wakefulness as the sodden package slumped to my ankles.

"Come on, into the shower and clean yourself up!" came the command. I obeyed without hesitation and I picked my feet out of the nappy - no longer my nappy, my personal garment, but now just any old piece of towelling, and grabbed my bathrobe, wrapping it around me to cover my nakedness and to keep that cold air from my wet loins.

After my shower I returned to the bedroom in some trepidation; Emma had used the word "change" and I half-expected - even anticipated - her to be waiting there with another one for me to put on, and I was wondering how I would react. As it happened she had gone, and so I dressed myself quickly in fear she might come back. As I left my room I passed the room that Vickie rather reluctantly shared with William. She was still in bed, so I popped my head around the door to say hello. She didn't look too happy, and told me she had a tummy upset and had been told to stay there until the doctor came.

Breakfast was a bit of a quiet affair; Tom had already gone out about some business, and so Emma and I sat with William, and inevitably discussed the night before. She made no mention at all of my wetting my nappy, but told me a few things about parties and bowls of punch - or fruit cup, as it had been called. She told me that it was usually much stronger than it tasted, and it was a regular thing for the boys to add even more alcohol during the evening with the intention of getting the girls drunk and then - well, she didn't have to say; Mum had covered all of that already. I took it all on board; that was the first real grown-up party I had been to, and there was much to learn, but also I didn't want any ban on my going to more of them. I resolved to be very careful. I had good reason to fear getting drunk again, and although I had actually enjoyed being nappied, I now felt revulsion for my weakness and backsliding.

I asked about Vickie, and Emma looked a bit worried. "She's been a little bit peaky these last few days, off her food a bit, and this morning she had a big accident in her nappy - the first for years and years - and she has a bit of a temperature. The Doctor said he'll come round and have a look at her later on. I'm just not taking any chances even if it is just a tummy bug."

I appreciated Emma's views. It wasn't so long ago that she had lost Vickie's younger sister to a cot death and it had upset her, and the rest of the family, enormously. The long-term result had been that Emma seemed to be very possessive and rather domineering towards poor Vickie, and her obsession had only relaxed since the arrival of William.

"Oh Poor Thing!" I replied, "and in half-term too. She's hardly likely to be trying it on - and certainly not the dirty nappy."

"Well, they happen from time to time; she just couldn't get there fast enough. Just a bit more washing."

"Sorry about mine. I didn't mean to."

Emma put her cup down. "Never mind. It's much better than a wet bed. I hope you enjoyed it." I looked at her sharply. She smiled back and gave me a wink. "You certainly seemed to enjoy it last night."

I felt myself smiling back at her. After a moment I took her cue and said, "It wasn't so bad. And I needed it, I really did." There was no shame in admitting it; Emma was family, and well knew our little weaknesses. "When you said you would change me this morning I was half-expecting you wanted me to wear one in the day as well."

"No, two children in nappies is quite enough for me. Vickie has one on now, by the way. If she's sick she's in bed and if she's in bed she's in a nappy. That's the rule. She might drift off to sleep and wet herself, and that, together with her temperature and so on would make a major scene. Much simpler to leave her be and change her if necessary."

"How's William in that respect?"

"He's doing all right. We've got him trained on the big stuff, and he's making progress on the little stuff. I'm afraid he's going to beat Vickie in getting out of nappies though, and that won't be good. I always remember how Percy was dry and out of them before I was and how he teased me about it. It made my life a misery. I'm going to have to do something about Vickie."

"A room of her own might help."

"I know. We've been thinking about moving for some time. There's only three bedrooms here, and we keep the third for guests. It would be nice to have a fourth, then we'll be able to give Vickie her own. She deserves it. Tom's doing well in his job and will probably get a chair next year when the old professor retires, so we'll be able to afford somewhere bigger, and I'll soon be able to start work again - effectively as soon as William is dry during the day, but I'm not in a hurry to go back to full time teaching."

I nodded. Even from my position in the classroom it was obvious that teaching was no bed of roses. A stray thought occurred to me. "Will you want me to wear one tonight?"

This time it was Emma who hesitated briefly before answering. She looked me straight in the eye. "That depends. We're going out tonight. Long-planned trip to see one of Tom's old college friends in concert. Juliet's agreed to baby-sit, so I don't imagine you'll be going out to party this evening. That means you should be going to bed sober tonight."

"Oh Dear! No Southern Comfort then?"

"Well, you can wear a nappy if you want one - No problem." She grinned, "After last night's oeuvre it might not be a bad idea."

My turn to grin. "Without a Southern Comfort, I don't think I'll need one."

"I'll put one out for you, anyway, Southern Comfort or no. Just in case you feel like one." She grinned again.

I didn't quite know how to take it. I had woken this with a feeling of self-revulsion that I had let myself down so badly; let myself down in submitting to wearing a nappy, let myself down again by wetting it inadvertently, yet again by using it voluntarily, and finally letting myself down completely by enjoying it. Now Emma was offering a second dose of the temptation, and I felt I had to resist. My pride demanded it. I smiled back at Emma and thanked her, but pointed out that last night was just a temporary aberration, and it wouldn't happen again.

Doctor MacDowell came round mid-morning and spent some time with Vickie. As he came down the stars I heard him reassuring Emma that it was probably just a tummy bug, and he left a prescription. Emma seemed much comforted by that, and Vickie seemed quite a bit better, although Emma wanted her to stay in bed until her temperature was normal.

I stayed well out of it when Emma changed the children after lunch as I didn't want to reinforce that strange desire, but I felt quite honoured when she asked me to sit them while she went to do some shopping. In reality, I didn't have much to do, William had been put down for a nap and Vickie was persuaded to take one as well, which left me at a loose end. When Emma came back with the medicine, Vickie was woken up, dosed, and unfortunately needed to be changed again, vindicating Emma's views about wearing a nappy when in bed. As Emma was making the tea, I sat chatting to Vickie, and reading to her from her favourite book, "The Borrowers". Juliet arrived and joined us. I told her I felt very silly about how I had behaved, and resolved never again to get drunk at a party; not only did it bring an early end to the festivities, but it also had that very unfortunate side-effect on me. I didn't tell Juliet about the episode with the nappy, but she agreed I should be very careful of drinks at parties from now on. I hoped my ready confession had brought forgiveness.

Emma and Tom were preparing to go out, and Emma came in to Vickie with the usual ultimatum; she could be put into her night-nappies now by her Mum, or later by her sitter, but which I understood she meant Juliet or even me. Oddly, Vickie chose the latter, which I took as a bit of an honour since I always hated being changed by the sitter and would do anything to avoid it. After Emma left I asked Vickie how she was getting on with her attempt to get dry. She shrugged, and replied that it was often just too much bother to get up, unravel her nappy, go to the toilet, and then do her nappy up again, so she would often simply use it where she lay. This brought an immediate response from both Juliet and I, as it was considered to be letting the side down badly, but Vickie simply shrugged. "They're useful sometimes," she said, "and Mum seems to be happier that way. I couldn't get my nappy back on right one night, and rather that wake Mum, I left it off. I didn't wet the bed, but she still wasn't amused. She said if I took my nappy off again I would get a spanking on my bare bottom. I'd rather have a nappy on than that, and I'd rather wet the nappy than risk taking it off and not being able to put it back on right." We could hardly argue, but I was left fuming at Vickie's dilemma, and I could see that Juliet wasn't too happy about it either.

I had to take a break for the usual reasons. On the way back I dropped into my bedroom to change into my slippers, and then I saw them. On top of my bed were a neatly folded nappy, pins, and a pair of plastic pants, obviously left there by Emma, whose intended message couldn't be clearer. She was expecting me to wear a nappy tonight, even though I could expect to be stone cold sober. I felt insulted, but a small part of me was hugely tempted; here was an excuse to wear a nappy and no-one would ever object or comment. I went back to Vickie's room feeling slightly dazed, and found that Juliet had gone to make supper. Vickie got a pack of cards out. And asked me to teach her how to play poker. I was glad of the distraction, and since it had been a favourite pastime at the stables on wet days, I taught her the rudiments. She was, as always, very quick on the uptake, and we were then stuck for something to use as a wager. Half-jokingly I told her that we sometimes played strip-poker at the stables, and she promptly demanded that we do the same.

I soon learnt another lesson; never, ever get into a poker game with Miss Victoria Petersen. She seemed to have an uncanny memory of which cards had been played, which remained at the top of the deck, and what the chances were of a certain card coming out on top. I was soon broke, and stripped. It was then that Vickie made her proposal; she would advance me a credit of a full set of clothes as long as I wore a nappy. As she reasoned, she had to wear one, and she couldn't take it off, so it would only level the playing field if I wore one too. I demurred, and replied that there wouldn't be one big enough to fit me. Vickie's response was immediate; there was one on my bed, just like the one I wore, and wetted, last night. I was completely nonplussed; not only was Vickie not supposed to know about that, but I realised I had been "closed on a minor point" as Dad would put it, and I could see no easy way out. Strangely, I didn't want a way out; it was just the excuse I had been looking for. Feigning annoyance I sloped off to the other bedroom, and with a carefully-modulated sigh, set about putting the nappy on myself. I learnt two more lessons, firstly that cloth nappies are a lot more difficult that disposable ones to put on, and secondly that it is not nearly as much fun putting one on yourself as it is to be nappied by someone else. I missed the ointment, the wriggling, and the slight sense of humiliation and embarrassment that normally went with it, and I missed the intimacy with the carer that it brings as well.

When Juliet returned she was not amused, but soon found herself blackmailed into joining us. We sat there like three witches around a cauldron while William acted as the familiar and I watched with huge amusement while Vickie, ever the blue-eyed innocent, manoeuvred Juliet until she was wearing a nappy too, to Vickie's huge amusement. It was common talk in the family that Vickie was something of a prodigy and now I was seeing her at first hand, and I admired her style. There is a great skill to being a child which most people seem to forget when they grow up, and I realised that Vickie was a mistress of her trade.

We were just getting to that absurd and confused stage that finishes any game of strip-poker when Emma walked in and saw the four of us sitting there in dressed in nappies. She did a splendid double-take and then roared with laughter. Tom brought his camera and evidence was gathered. Vickie was changed - the little minx had wet her nappy rather than leave the poker game, and done a very extensive job of it. Juliet was very contrite and left in no doubt she was in the doghouse. Apparently the concert had been cancelled at the last minute due to a bomb scare, and Tom and Emma had got tickets for the following night. Juliet was asked if she would sit the children again tomorrow night, and do it properly this time. She could hardly refuse. That left me in the firing line. Emma squared up to me as I stood there in just my top and my nappy, and we eyed each other in the eye with that I-know-that-you-know-that-I-know-that-you-know look. I was complimented on how cute I looked in a nappy, which under normal circumstances would be fighting talk, and then sentenced to continue to wear it as a punishment. To add to the humiliation she took a pair of plastic pants from the dresser and insisted I wear them. I sat down on the changing table and raised my feet obligingly. If this was punishment, I was going to enjoy it.

I lay awake in bed for a long time that night. I had dutifully worn my nappy all evening, only being released from it to take a shower and use the toilet before I went to bed, before Emma had appeared to replace it for the night. My fingers wandered down over the smooth plastic and carefully traced the path of the elastics around my waist and legs before -horror of horrors! - going inside to feel the pins and the soft towelling, then down between my legs where I really wasn't supposed to go. I turned it all over and over in my mind, how I was really nappied, not just as a punishment but as a practical measure, properly nappied in case I wet again, how I had been accepted as such in amongst the family, how I could justifiably wet myself if I needed to, and above all, how warm and comfortable, how safe and secure I felt tucked up in bed in a big sensible nappy on my voyage to the morning.

[fyunch]

Ah, now we see the famous poker game from another side!

[jbz2079]

Very good, most enjoyed.

Thanks Freswith.

[weeboy]

Hey Freswith,

Another great chapter.

Is there a new chapter coming soon?

[freswith]

I apologise for the delay, I've been very busy with a new job, but yes, there is another episode coming. I will try to get it up by the weekend.

[freswith]

Southern Comfort

I'd never seen Juliet in such a lather before, I mean, I'd seen her angry, I seen her worried, and I'd seen her excited, but never in such a flap. I mean yes, Vickie had been sick, and yes she was complaining of a pain in her side, and yes, she was running a temperature, but at worst it was only appendicitis, and I'd seen that before when Melissa went down with it at school. They'd taken her off in an ambulance and all the class was agog, but even after the teacher tried to calm us, it wasn't until we'd looked it up and discovered that it was rarely fatal that we lost interest. Melissa was back with us after a couple of weeks, and the only long-term effect had been that she was off-games until the end of term. That would have been a major blow to me, as I loved gym and games, but Melissa had quite enjoyed it.

Juliet was all over the place, shaking with nerves, and it was no use trying to calm her. Eventually I had to dial the doctor for her, and guide her through what to say. Then I had to wait downstairs to let the doctor in while she went and fretted with Vickie. I sauntered up after a few minutes just in time to hear poor Vickie asking if she could take her nappy off as she didn't want the humiliation of going to the hospital wearing it. To my surprise, Juliet agreed, and even though I thought it a bad idea - you can be waiting in those hospital receptions for hours - I kept my counsel to myself.

When the Doctor finally arrived she confirmed my diagnosis, which pleased me considerably, and then they left me with Vickie while they called the ambulance and tried to contact Tom and Emma. Somehow the phone number which Emma had left had gone missing, probably in the flap over calling the doctor, and so the police were called and sent round to the concert hall. Such a lot of fuss about nothing, but it gave me a chance to talk to Vickie and reassure her. She had been wound up quite unnecessarily by Juliet's fretting, and told me that it was like that when they took Angela away; all fuss and flashing blue lights. I had to reassure Vickie that Angela had suffered something completely different, which only happened to little babies, that what she had was not really serious at all, and then she quietened down. I checked with her that she didn't want her nappy on, but she was quite sure she could manage, although she had just been given something to make her sleepy and I knew what that could presage, even so I didn't press the matter.

Ten minutes later the ambulance had come and been and gone taking Juliet and Vickie to the hospital, leaving me alone in the house to take care of William. Everything suddenly went quiet, and I went around switching off all the lights that had been turned on to help the ambulance find us. It was then that William woke up and started to cry. We had put him in the other bed in my room while all the fuss went on, and now he had woken in a strange bed in a strange room and had reacted accordingly. I went and picked him up, and as part of the usual check I discovered he was wet, so I carried him through to the changing table. He wasn't all that wet, but it gave me something to do and it made him more comfortable and, Oh Dear, it kicked off Those Feelings again.

I changed him carefully - he was too sleepy to wriggle or protest - and then put him back in his own cot, talking to him soothingly. He well knew my voice by now and went off to sleep without any bother, so I just stood by the rails of the cot quietly envying him his blissful ignorance of all that had gone on, the security of his warm cosy cot and the comfort of his fresh, dry nappy. In his world, nothing could go wrong and he could have slept through the Last Trump and the end of the world in sweet oblivion.

I part-closed the nursery door and went back to my own bedroom. After all the excitement I was starting to feel very tired, and I suddenly realised that it was past my normal bedtime. At the same moment it came to me that I had the watch; I was in charge of the house and of the infant William, and I couldn't just go to bed if I wanted to. If anything, that made me feel even more tired, and my eyes roamed to the head of the bed where my pyjamas were peeking out between the pillows. There, layered with the pyjamas was a fold of white towelling, and the puckered elastic gathers of a pair of plastic pants. I sat there looking at them. Emma had obviously put them there for my use, and I was wondering whether it was an offer or a demand that I should wear them. Just at that moment I felt a sense of revulsion for it all. I wasn't a baby anymore, I'd left all that behind, and although it had been fun wearing them the last couple of nights, it felt wrong now, so wrong, and I knew I had to resist the temptation to look at them, so I faced forward again. My mind ran back over all that had happened and eventually came back and caught up with me. The bed was so inviting; it was one thing to stay up late, to go to parties and to come home at unheard-of hours, but it was quite another to stay up because you had to stay up, because others were relying on you and you couldn't let them down, but those pillows were so inviting. I knew if my head went down on them it would stay there, and I couldn't allow that. I looked again at the pillows, just to reinforce my determination, and there, once again, the towelling and the PVC looked back at me. I reached over to push them back in, to push them out of sight, and my hand felt the soft towelling and the cool smooth plastic, and it slid in between them, and it lingered there, not commanded by me anymore but fulfilling a need of its own as though it no longer belonged to me.

A cat screeched outside, and the spell broke. I realised that if I continued like this I would end up putting them on, and then Tom and Emma would come back and I would probably be found asleep on duty, or worse still in a state of attire which would take an awful lot of explaining. I withdrew my hand quite sharply, stood up, and drove myself to leave the room. On the landing I was struck by how silent the house was without the usual susurration of human activity. For one dreadful moment I thought of Angela, Vickie's little sister who died of cot death, and the silence from the nursery hit me like a thrown pillow. I hastened to the door, and plucking up my courage stepped inside. William was still in blissful repose, breathing evenly, his pale blonde hair spread in a halo around his head. I stepped back carefully and left the room. Silly me! In a panic about nothing at all. Then I realised the responsibility that was placed upon a sitter, and from it I felt a little guilty at the cavalier way I had treated some of mine. I took a deep breath. I must make myself busy, keep myself awake, remain the sensible, grown up kind of person I aspired to be so I went downstairs and made myself a cup of coffee; that was the kind of thing grown-ups did.

It was as I washed up the cup and saucer that I heard the car arrive outside, and doors slammed. I went to the front door and composed myself. I desperately wanted to hear about Vickie, but I also wanted to appear to be calm and collected, and to be in charge of the situation. I opened the door before Tom could put the key in the lock, to his mild surprise. Their faces said it all. Emma and Juliet were smiling, so I knew that Vickie must be all right, and I didn't need to demand the news as she came past me, asked briefly after William, and went straight upstairs to the nursery. I couldn't blame her; I had heard about how desperately she had grieved over Angela, and how possessive and protective she had been towards Vickie as a result, and I knew that once Vickie was safe she would be anxious to reassure herself about William. Tom was much more relaxed, and gave me the formal report of the successful operation on Vickie, and the prognosis of a full recovery for her. Juliet just said she was sorry she hadn't phoned from the hospital, but I was quite glad she had not; I would have jumped out of my skin at the sound of the phone and feared for the worst.

Once Emma had satisfied herself that William was safe we congregated in the lounge and talked down the excitements of the evening. Tom opened the drinks cabinet, and I was quite surprised when he asked me what I would like, and without thinking I replied that I would like a Southern Comfort. I glanced at Emma, and saw her drop a wink at me; I had completely forgotten that it was a euphemism between us for - well - the other thing. I avoided her gaze thereafter as we had a light meal, and then the lateness and excitement seemed to catch up with me, and I made my excuses and headed for bed.

After I undressed I reached under my pillow for my pyjamas, and once again my hand met the smooth, soft plastic of the pants. I stopped for a moment, and then took a deep breath. No-one would know, except perhaps Emma, and she was in on my secret and wouldn't mind. I listened carefully. The others were still downstairs, my door was closed and I wouldn't be disturbed. There was a risk of discovery, but if I were quick and quiet it would be a small one, although still large enough to be exciting. I thought briefly of my hero, Francis Drake, and went for it. I shook the terry nappy out onto the bed, diamond-style and flipped the corners in to a well-practised kite fold, then deposited myself in the middle of it. It felt a little unusual doing it to myself, but I really couldn't ask for help this time, and I made a fair job of it. I had just pulled the pants up and put the pyjama top on when I heard Juliet and Emma speaking on the landing outside my door. I managed to jump into bed and pull the bedclothes up to my chest just in time to conceal myself when the door opened, admitting Juliet with Emma close behind. Juliet explained that she would be sleeping in the other bed tonight as it was too late to get safely back to her own flat on the other side of the beautiful, sex-maniac-haunted park. Emma's eyes swept briefly along my bed, stopped at he pillow, took in the absence of certain things, and she smiled at me and winked again. I smiled back cautiously; I dreaded that she might say something and blow my cover, but she kept her peace. I shuffled down cautiously between the sheets while Juliet undressed, so as to respect her modesty, and as I did so my eyes came level with my pyjama bottoms still peeking out between the pillows. It was obviously that which Emma had noticed, together with the absence of the nappy and pants and thus inferred my state of dress beneath the bedclothes. I cursed silently, not just because my little peccadillo had been discovered, but that my cleverness had not been enough to conceal it, and taking advantage of a moment when Juliet's back was turned, I carefully tucked them out of sight.

We didn't talk much in the darkness, although the tiredness seemed to have left me. As Juliet's breathing became deep and regular I reached down between the sheets and started to feel my way around the elastics of the pants, tracing out their course around my waist and legs, and feeling the bulky padding beneath. I toyed with the pillow between my legs and exulted in the felling of my bottom being so closely wrapped and secured. I reached inside the front of the pants and felt the soft terry towelling, the smooth hard pins and the already slightly damp plastic, and I thought of the many, many times I had been nappied for real each evening, in the confident expectation that it would be soaking wet in the morning. I thought of the way Peter had done it, his strong hands overcoming any thought I may have had of struggling, and I thought of Matt. Here I hit something of a wall. Matt turned me on something rotten, but it was in a different way. He was just a boy, after all, and too close to my age to act as a father figure, and I knew I could control Matt, and if I struggled and protested and played my favourite game of pushing away the nappy as it was being drawn up between my legs, he would just stop, where Dad or Peter would have simply pulled my nappy up and pinned it despite all my very best efforts to stop them.

I thought of Matt again. I thought of him on the beach at Newquay, probably smooching with some bikini-clad girl who was older than me and had bigger breasts and would be happy to do it with him and I felt my hold over him tricking away between my fingers. I bent one leg akimbo to relieve the pressure between my legs, and reached right down inside my pants to hold my nappy close against me; this wasn't going to trickle through my fingers, not if I held it firmly enough.

[Sarah Penguin]

Gosh that was a very good story update, thank you.

[jbz2079]

Thanks for the update Freswith.

I'm Still loving this story and it still has the sparkle.

[fyunch]

Nice setup! So with Juliet in the room and Amelia not wearing her pyjama bottoms, there's no way she's getting up in the night to go to the loo. So I predict a wet situation in the morning for our heroine. So sad.

[weeboy]

Another great chapter Freswith,

How's the next one coming along?

[dyperaby]

Freswith,

It is approaching two years that you have been entertaining us with the 'Pembroke Tales,' Thank you and please continue. I look forward to each installment of this story and hope to continue to enjoy it for as long as you wish to. Again, thank you.

[freswith]

Thank you very much everybody - I'll try to get the next episode done by the weekend.

[jbz2079]

Hey Freswith, what weekend did you have in mind?

[freswith]

Sorry, sudden work problem. This one is a a bit longer than usual, and I've had continuity problems, but I hope to have it up very soon. Thank you for your impatience!

[Sarah Penguin]

Sorry, sudden work problem. This one is a a bit longer than usual, and I've had continuity problems, but I hope to have it up very soon. Thank you for your impatience!

That happens, it's ok!

[freswith]

Cornered.

I slept late the following morning, which is hardly surprising considering the time I had got to bed had also been that morning, and I woke for the usual reason. I started up quite sharply, and then remembered I had a nappy on and Juliet was in the next bed. I looked over, but the bed was untenanted and had even been remade. Juliet had, as ever, woken up before me and was probably downstairs having breakfast, but then she might also walk in at any moment and catch me. I didn't fancy the idea of explaining to her that I was back in nappies, so I listened carefully for the sounds of movement, then, hearing none, made a quick dash for my dressing gown. With it around me I peeked out of the door, and seeing the coast was clear, slipped over towards the bathroom.

"Morning, Sleepyhead!" came the challenge from the nursery. I stopped and looked in, and saw Emma was just finishing a change on William. "Put it in the pail, will you? I'll wash them all together." I looked around, but William's wet nappy was not to be seen, presumably already in the pail. "Yours, I mean." Emma added. I felt myself blushing.

"I'm not wet!" I protested.

"Oh, well done. You'd had a bit to drink last night and I was afraid you would need it. Never mind, put it in the pail and I'll wash them all together. It'll make a machine full. There you are William!" She set William on his feet, and he stood there for a moment, fingering the leg elastics of his pants, then waddled across to his toys and busied himself with intense concentration.

"Now it's your turn. Come here, Pet!" Instinctively I went and stood in front of her. Without further ado she opened my dressing gown, slipped her thumbs into the waistband of my pants and eased the whole package down my legs. I was indeed dry, and in a flashback to the old days I felt quite proud; there hadn't been many times when I had managed to stay dry the whole night through and I was half-expecting the customary praise, but all I could see was William looking at me goggle-eyed, so I stepped daintily out of the package and wrapped my dressing gown around me again. "We've spoken to the hospital. Vickie's fine, she had a good night and is still sleeping off the anaesthetic. We'll go and see her later this morning."

I murmured my acknowledgement and headed for the bathroom; matters were becoming urgent. While I was showering a new thought struck me; I had had a drink, but stayed dry afterwards, and that was quite an achievement for me.

On the way back from the shower I looked in to the nursery again. I wanted to make quite sure that my nappy and pants had been disposed of; I didn't want any evidence that Juliet might find. Emma was still there, watching William at play.

"All done?" she said, and I nodded. "Would you like another one for the daytime?"

I stopped, struck wordless for a moment, then cranked my voice back into operation. "No, I don't wear them...in the daytime." I managed to croak, "I mean. I only wore it last night..."

"Because it's fun." Said Emma levelly, looking me in the eye. I felt myself blushing. Yes. She was right. Because it was fun. But I knew I could never admit it, that by admitting it I would open an abyss that would swallow me and, once swallowed, I could never climb out again. "You can wear one, if you like." she said softly, "Lots of people do, you know." I teetered closer to the edge of the abyss. My pride at being dry this morning after having taken a couple of drinks the night before was now evaporating before the thought of lying down on that big changing table and being anointed, pampered, wrapped in layers of soft towelling, and then secured, safe from any sudden call of nature, well padded out with a soft smooth plastic pillow between my legs, and the whole process taking place in front of little William, a professional nappy-wearer if ever there was one, who would both understand... and not understand. The abyss yawned. I could wear a nappy all day if I wanted one, and use it, and not be blamed or humiliated. I could sit and play with William, two rounded bottoms together, I could forget about that fundamental responsibility, and hide myself far from life's worries. I could crawl and waddle across the nursery floor, just another child, safely nappied against accidents large or small. For a long moment the dream hung in the air, turning and shining like a soap bubble, ethereal and beautiful but I knew if I touched it, it would burst.

Juliet called from downstairs, and the bubble burst. I lurched back into reality. I was needed at the breakfast table or it would be cleared. I looked just once towards the changing table, and made my decision. My appetite for nappies was satisfied, but I was still hungry for food. The breakfast table won; I called back to Juliet, smiled my thanks at Emma, and declined her kind offer. "Until tonight then." was all she said.

As I was finishing my breakfast the arrangements for the day were being made. Naturally enough Tom and Emma were anxious to visit Vickie, and Emma had packed a bag containing some nightclothes and toys for her, but not, so I carefully observed, any nappies. I presumed the hospital would provide them, then I wondered if Juliet had told them about Vickie's little problem, or if they had found out the hard way. Never mind: somebody else's problem. Juliet had to go back to her flat, not only to get some fresh clothes but also to start the process of packing. Dad was coming down to collect both of us on Saturday, and Juliet would be at home for a couple of months until her wedding. I was quite looking forward to that; her attitude to me had changed so much and I was no longer being treated like an awkward child but more as an equal. That left me in charge of William and the house for a couple of hours. I felt quite flattered to be given the responsibility, and felt much more able to cope since the events of last night. I had passed the test and earned some respect, and was anxious to live up to it.

William, however, had other ideas; sensing my relative inexperience at child-minding, he was determined to push the limits. I found myself in charge of a bright-eyed energetic toddler who wanted to explore, to go into places normally forbidden to him and do those things that were strictly taboo. I fished him out of his parents bedroom where he was just about to draw on the walls with his mother's lipstick, out of the bathroom where he did his best to cause a flood, out of the toilet where he suddenly seemed very thirsty, and away from the toddler gate on the stairs where he wanted to develop his lock-picking skills. It was difficult to feel angry with him, since with those bright blue eyes and baby-blond hair he looked so angelic, even though he was behaving like a little demon.

I tried very hard to get him interested in his toys, but they were obviously old hat to him; he'd played with them all so many times and they didn't react to him. He obviously saw me as a new toy, and baiting me was so much more fun because I reacted, and hopefully could be made to lose my patience and make a fool of myself. I managed to keep control until I had to go to the toilet myself; my small bladder being an ongoing concern. When I came out, William was nowhere to be seen, but a panic search eventually found him hiding under his parents' bed. I dragged him out giggling and squawking protests, but when he stood up his soaking nappy sagged down almost to his knees. There was nothing else for it, so I picked him up, tucked him under my arm, and with his arms and legs flailing I carried him off to the changing table.

The package hit the floor with a solid thump, and William stepped out of it cheerfully and attempted to run away. Duly fielded, he submitted under protest to a wipe-down before being hoisted onto the table, where he lay giggling at my inept efforts to kite-fold a fresh nappy just beneath his flailing legs. Ignoring his cries of "No! No!" I hoiked him up by the ankles and slid the nappy under his bottom, just managing it before he kicked himself free of my hands and attempted to roll off the table. I rolled him back and put one hand on his stomach to hold him down while I put a large dollop of ointment in between his legs and spread it around. He obviously enjoyed that, and didn't try to wriggle again until I pulled the front of the nappy up over his belly, whereupon he reached down and tried to push it away.

I was losing patience by now and snapped at him to lie still, but all I got was a cheerful raspberry. Then I had an idea; I took one of the pins from the bar of soap and held it before him, and gave him an ultimatum: "Either you Lie Still and Let me Pin your Nappy or I'll STICK IT IN YOU!" and backed it with my best Wicked Nanny Scowl. William stopped burbling and protesting just long enough for me to get the pins in and then he started his kicking routine again, but with much less determination than before. I managed to fold the nappy in around his legs and bottom before I had to release him for a moment while I found the baby pants. Having fielded him once again, I scrunched the pants up, put my hands through the leg holes and grabbed his ankles. Resistance now being futile he submitted to having the pants drawn up his legs, and standing him up again I managed to complete the process by pulling them up to his waist and tucking in all round. Thankfully it didn't all fall down straightaway, but I made sure of it by putting a romper on him to hold it all up. I smiled at him, he smiled at me, and then he ran for the stairs again. I followed, cursing the lack of a play pen - Tom and Emma never liked the idea of imprisoning their infants - and resolving that, whatever courses I might take in life, motherhood was not an option I cherished.

When Tom and Emma came back at lunchtime everything was still in order, despite William's best efforts. As soon as his mother arrived, William retracted his horns and tail to become, once again, Mummy' Little Angel. There was good news about Vickie; she was sitting up, a little weak but out of pain and becoming more cheerful by the hour. I asked if she had managed to stay dry, and apparently she had; although Emma said it was more likely due to dehydration and general inflammation in that area than anything else. Emma warned me that Vickie was on a drip, and wasn't allowed to take anything by mouth until her bowels had calmed down and started to pass things again, so I wasn't to take her any food.

As it happened I didn't get the chance to visit Vickie that afternoon, and was at a loose end until Juliet was due to come round after teatime. I amused myself by playing with the now-very-well-behaved William, and Emma even complimented me on my mothering skills; if only she had known what he was like when his mother was out of sight! I mentioned that I had changed him, and Emma raised one well-trained eyebrow. To my satisfaction she didn't immediately rush to check him, but remarked that she expected I knew well enough how to do that. I ignored the compliment with half a smile; I didn't want to go any further into that in case she mentioned The Other Matter, and I was trying very hard not to think of that myself either. I realised I had been rather foolish in succumbing to it last night, and worse, that Emma was expecting me to do the same tonight, and I wasn't quite sure how I would react. Changing William had brought reality home to me, that nappies were really horrible things that were best left in babyhood, and I had been hoping this trip would act as a gateway into adulthood. Now, here I was, sitting on the floor playing with a toddler, and I could be quite sure that upstairs under my pillow there was now a nappy and pants effectively with my name on them and intended for my use tonight. I didn't want them, I didn't need them, I wouldn't have them, but something... something... deep inside me was looking forward very much to wearing them tonight, and I couldn't keep that something from creeping up on me every few minutes. I kept trying to think of Matt, of lying in his arms and kissing him, but my mind kept sliding sort of sideways and when Matt's hands drifted below my waist, as they were wont to do, they now arrived on well-padded plastic pants.

I wiled away the afternoon with a video, and gave Emma some help about the house with the chores. Emma and Tom's Greenie opinions meant that they preferred to use cloth nappies instead of disposables, and that meant a large washing machine operating two or three times a week. The rest of the world had switched to disposables, but I didn't plead the case for them as I had heard Mum and Emma discussing it, and I knew all the arguments; besides I could hardly do so when some of the nappies in the machine had been mine. I had already seen the nappy and pants intended for my use tonight, peeking out from between the pillows in silent accusation. After the machine had stopped, we hung them out on the line. Lots of small ones, a few medium ones, ....and three large ones. If the neighbours didn't already know, then surely they must have guessed.

I also helped Emma with William when it came to teatime, but I stayed back from the battlefront of the high chair - I had only brought so many clothes with me and he was inclined to show off by throwing food around. That was soon followed by bathtime, of which I also stayed well clear. It was only safe to re-appear when he was being dried and powdered, and I was mildly curious to see if he would keep on playing his mother up the way he had played me, and what she would do about it, so I followed them back into the nursery. Once William saw me, he started to show off again, and I told Emma what he had been like that morning. She laughed and said "Here's how you do it!"

She sat down on the low nursing chair and took a kite-folded nappy onto her lap, then fielded young William before he could make his escape, and hoisted him into her lap on top of the nappy. Then she had both arms around him, and before he could struggle she anointed him and then pulled the front of the nappy up between his legs, cutting off that escape route while stopping him from rolling off with her arms. She pinned the sides of his nappy, rolling him, over slightly each way with her legs to bring the pinning side uppermost. William obviously enjoyed being nappied in his mother's lap and gurgled his appreciation. I passed over his baby pants and she scrunched them up and slipped them over his feet, finally standing him up and pulling them up around his waist. Properly and thickly nappied for the night, William then turned back to face his mother and held his arms out for a hug, which he duly received together with a pat on the bottom. The sound of the plastic being patted gave me another twinge. In a couple of long hours that could be me.

As Emma settled little William into his cot, I sat down on Vickie's little bed. Emma said "Oh, that reminds me: Gran and Granpa are coming down tomorrow to see Vickie. I'm going to have to move you into that bed so they can have the twin bed room." I shifted my position; somewhere underneath me the plastic sheet rustled slightly. The implications came home. Being very quiet, sleeping with William a few feet away, probably no partying, and worst of all, no room. It was only a child's bed and frankly, I was too big for it. Although I might only be thirteen and as slim as a rake, I was now as tall as Juliet or Emma and there simply wasn't room for me. I was about to voice my protest when Juliet returned, so I made an excuse and went to greet her

I listened to her report of her visit to Vickie. I was slightly miffed at this; I thought Juliet had been busy packing; if I had known she was visiting Vickie I would have gone with her. I had also been hoping we would be going out to party like she promised, but she said she would be staying here for supper. My disappointment must have shown in my face, as she apologised, and said it would probably be the last chance to have one of Tom's curries for a very long time, but we would certainly go out tomorrow night when Gran and Granpa would be here. I thanked her and told her about the bed, and she sucked her teeth before replying that one of her flatmates would be moving out and I could have her bed from tomorrow onwards. That made everything better; to be away from parental control entirely and going to parties was what I had come for.

Tom's curry was indeed superb, and I washed it down with Cobra beer all the way from India. Maybe I washed it down a bit too well, as Tom was equally generous with the spices and something had to counter it, so by the time Juliet left I was feeling distinctly blurred. I made it up the stairs, however, and into my room. Emma entered behind me. She put an arm around my shoulder. "Amelia, are you going to be good tonight?" I nodded and grunted my affirmative reply. She continued; "I mean, you know what beer does to you?" I nodded, more slowly; I could see what she was getting at. "I've got to have this bed ready for Gran tomorrow night. It really wouldn't do to have an accident in it tonight, would it?" I waited while the implications sunk in, then nodded. I was cornered. A still small voice inside me also said that this would probably be my last chance to wear a nappy for a very long time, as tomorrow I would be ingested into the very grown-up world of a student's flat, probably with other grown-up girls, and any such thing would be unthinkable. Very slowly I nodded, and Emma reached under the pillow and drew out the nappy, and I started to undress.

[Sarah Penguin]

An interesting update to the story thanks! *waves*

[fyunch]

As always, excellent.

[jbz2079]

Thanks Freswith, as usual well worth waiting for.

[weeboy]

Thanks Freswith

How's the next chapter looking?

Is there an update soon?

[freswith]

Okay, okay,okay, I'll get on with it!

[Sarah Penguin]

Yay! Thanks!