Phone Conversation

[jbz2079]

Thanks for the addition Freswith, appriciated, When this story ends have you got any ideas for another story?

I just really like your easy to read, great storylines.

[freswith]

Thanks for your support; I have just written the last episode of Vickie's story, and will put it up very shortly, after I've re-read and proofed it.

I have started to write Amelia's tale, about a very different character with a very different take on life, but I will get a few episodes written before I start to put it up. I have now been offered a new job, so I might be quite busy for a while.

[freswith]

Caroline

As the arrival of my daughter came closer my resolve to stick it out in our flat became weaker, not just from the pressure of my mother and Simon's mother Sheila, but also from Juliet. As my belly became bigger and bigger so I became less and less mobile, and every woman I met seemed to have some horror story of being caught out and having the baby on the bathroom floor or the back of a taxi. I came to realise that I should have someone with me, although the someone I wanted was still in Afghanistan, and not due to return until after the birth. Eventually, when I heard that Juliet's mother Aunt Pat would be coming down to stay in her holiday cottage to be close to Juliet, I could not resist my own mother coming down with her. I realised that I need no longer fear her overweening possessiveness now that I had marriage lines and a place of my own, and was very grateful for the companionship and support she offered.

I started to fit out the nursery with the vast amount of equipment the modern baby seemed to require, and I studied the regime of feeding and bathing and changing that threatened to fill my whole day. The sheer size of the commitment I had undertaken gradually became clear to me. Gifts of clothing and equipment started to flow in from all quarters, including a matinee jacket in both blue and pink from Sheila, commemorating the moment I told her it was going to be a girl instead of the expected boy. Bootneck Bill's wife Jean Bainbridge became a regular visitor as part of the informal support network offered by wives at the base.

I stacked the disposable nappies into the cupboard and discussing the pros and cons of disposable and cloth. It was quite clear the laundry arrangements in the flat would never support cloth, although Mum remained adamant they were healthier and better for the environment, not to mention cheaper. She had even offered to bring down some of the old ones that had once graced William's rear and probably mine as well, veterans of many campaigns in the marshlands of the family. I politely declined, and for once my arguments were accepted by Mum, leaving me secretly rather pleased that my sovereignty was recognised within my own home and over my own baby. As long as this continued I would be more than happy to have Mum around.

The doorbell rang. It was Jean Bainbridge, and I let her in. "Have you heard about Peter?" was her opening remark. I stopped work instantly and gave her the whole of my attention. No news was almost always good news where the men were concerned, and Jean's voice had the hollowness of tragedy in it. "His helo was shot down by a rocket. They got him out of it, and he's still alive, but we don't know any more details. Bill is round at Juliet's with Doc Martin right now. I thought I should come and tell you personally."

I nodded dumbly, not only because I couldn't think what to say, but also because my throat had constricted with the shock. Finally I managed to squawk a brief blasphemy and "How bad" and then "is Peter?"

Jean sighed. "We don't yet know. All we know is he was alive when he reached the casualty station."

"I must give her a call!" was my next reaction reaching for the 'phone.

"Errrm - I wouldn't actually do that," said Jean, "That's the thing she'll be dreading. Every time the phone rings, she'll jump out of her skin, in case it's THAT call."

I sat down, and looked at Jean; the worry marks beside her mouth were deep and drawn. My baby moved inside me and I took some deep breaths, stroking my belly with my hand. Jean's worry marks deepened even further. I nodded to her and said "It's alright." to reassure her.

Simon usually rang me every day, operations permitting, and I made a point of being close to the phone at the usual time. I had learned to control the demons of despair if he was a little late, and I could understand what Juliet was going through. Purely as a time-filler we brewed coffee and sat down to make small talk about almost everything except the elephant in the room. The phone rang. It wasn't Simon's usual time to ring. I jumped out of my skin and snatched it from the cradle. It was Gran. In slow measured tones she told me not to worry, but there was some bad news about Peter. I stopped her there and replied that we knew he was wounded, but not how badly. She relaxed and continued in normal tones, and we shared what we knew. It was pitifully little. Granpa had said that as long as he was still alive at the casualty station he would be in with a good chance. What we didn't know was how quickly he had got there; he might have been bleeding in the wreck of the helicopter for some time before they got to him, but the important thing was he was still alive. I respected Granpa's knowledge but it didn't give much comfort.

I spent a lousy night. Simon hadn't called, and then he hadn't called again, and yet again. I hardly slept, and every time I did I was tormented by dreams of helicopters crashing in flames, only it wasn't Peter in the cockpit, it was Simon. I don't think my baby slept either; she was continuously on the move, kicking at my tummy. Eventually I gave up and I watched the daylight grow, oh so slowly, so I opened the curtains to speed it into my bedroom. That done, I finally fell into a deep sleep.

The ringing of the phone made me jump out of my skin and fumble wildly for the receiver. It was Simon at last. He gently fielded my rush of questions and calmed me. Yes he knew Peter had been wounded. They had just dropped off a platoon of army and Simon been close behind him when the rocket struck. Peter's helo had gone straight down and landed heavily, with flames and smoke coming from the cabin. Simon had been close enough to see Peter's helmeted head slumped in the cockpit, so without thinking he landed barely a rotor's span away. It was a stupid thing to do as there was a vigorous fire-fight going on between the army and the ambushers, and bullets were flying everywhere.. Simon was actually trying to get out of the cockpit to go to Peter's aid when he saw his crewman rush across towards him. The crewman wrenched Peter from the cockpit, carried him over his back fireman-style, and dumped him in the back. Simon shouted at the crewman; "The Others?" and saw him shake his head and spread his hands. Simon then took off followed by a stream of tracers, clawed desperately for height and speed and flew flat out, nap-of-the-earth back to the base and the nearest casualty station.

Peter had been taken off on a stretcher, lying face down, his back covered in blood, and he disappeared beneath a huddle of medics. At that point one of the medics had come over and grabbed Simon, saying "Let's fix that!". Simon looked down and saw that he had blood running from a wound in his arm, but he couldn't even remember being hit. He ended up on the next stretcher to Peter. He ended his account by saying that Peter had still been conscious, and had been calling for Juliet. The medics had then anaesthetised Peter and worked on him for about an hour, and he was still unconscious. The medics said he should live and all his bits are still there, but they weren't going to fly him out until he was stabilised.

"It's only a scratch, no need to worry." was all Simon said in answer to my worried question about his arm. "I'll just have to wank with the other hand for a while."

"Stop being so silly! I'm really worried about you - and Peter."

"Have you spoken to Juliet? How's she taking it?"

"Not yet, and I don't know. Gran's been handling it and said I should make any unnecessary calls because they might startle her."

"I think you should call her now. Hang on...Peter's coming round." I heard some scuffling sounds, and Simon's voice saying "It's Vickie." followed by Peter mumbling something incomprehensible. "He says tell Juliet he loves her."

"I will. Now you take care!" and after the usual affections he rang off.

I tried to phone Juliet, but her phone was busy, and so I tried again five minutes later, and it was still busy. All told it took me half an hour to get through to her and give her my news. The relaxation of tension was quite audible, but she still had a bit of a cry - I suppose it was the worry coming out. I asked her if she'd had any sleep, and told her that I hadn't. She replied that she had had an awful night, and it hadn't been made any better by Holly wetting her bed.

"Her bed, not yours" I said, startled.

"Hers. She was utterly crestfallen, poor thing, and actually asked if she could wear a nappy so it wouldn't happen again."

"Oh God, was she really that upset?"

"Every bit." Replied Juliet, "I told her we hadn't got any, and then she said that Viola had left some behind, so what could I do? I put one on her and took her into my bed. She's dry this morning, so as far as I'm concerned, that's an end to it. I'm not putting up with any more of that."

"Better than a wet bed."

"Yes, but even so, I don't want her getting back into that habit."

"Tell her that Peter will be unhappy if she does it again."

"No, she's worried enough already. I'll play it by ear. Hopefully the worst of it is over and the kids will be able to cope with it from now on. Thanks again for your news - it's been so frustrating trying to get details out of the official system; they mean well, but it's really details that matter, not sweet words. By the way, your Mum's coming down with my Mum. I know your were against it, but she was adamant. They'll stay in the cottage."

"Frankly, after last night I could do with her - just someone to talk to."

The call wound down and we rang off. I got myself up, slowly and carefully and I resolved not to go rushing over to Juliet's, as I felt I was of more use where I was, manning the phone in case Simon called again. My resolution failed, and I went over there. I knew Simon would phone there if he couldn't get me here; it was quite a regular thing, as I had been spending a lot of time with Juliet. The day was packed with visitors, and by suppertime the whole family was in conference. Amelia would take Juliet up to Devon, meet up with Matt, and then they would all go on to Birmingham to see Peter as soon as he arrived. Aunt Pat would look after the children, and Mum would look after me. Just for a moment I envied Juliet having her husband back from that awful place, while mine was still out there, but that's the way it was. At least Juliet would have Doctor Matt with her in case her baby decided to arrive en route.

The following afternoon I was worrying again. Simon hadn't called since yesterday, and the clock was ticking. I had said goodbye to Juliet and Amelia as they set off for Birmingham, and we had spent the day trying to keep the children entertained and distracted, with some success, but now I was on the way back to the flat with Mum.. My mobile rang, and I fumbled for it. No hurry, Simon always used a landline for his regular call. The screen said Amelia, so I greeted her cheerfully but Simon replied, asking if I thought he had had a sex-change. I was caught off guard, and he went on to say he was now in Birmingham, at Selly Oak Hospital, and expected to be home very soon. I asked him how he's done it, and he said the Surgeon Commander had taken a long look at his arm, asked him how long he had to go on his tour, and he told her "less than two weeks now" and said how unlucky it was that he would miss the birth of his first child. She had pursed her lips, and replied that the wound actually looked quite deep, was getting inflamed and there was a strong risk of infection in this climate. There was no way she was going to clear him as fit to fly in less than two weeks, so he'd "copped a Blighty one" and was to be sent back to England to make a recovery. He'd made a mad rush to get onto the same flight as Peter, and had barely arrived in Selly Oak when to his astonishment Amelia had come down the ward chatting up all the wounded men, and had discovered him. All he had to do now was to talk his way out of Selly Oak and back to Cornwall.

---

All the other mothers had said that it hurt, but it was worth it. They were right: it hurt, but it was worth it. As I was being wheeled out of the delivery room with my new daughter, Caroline, I heard my name being called. It was Juliet being wheeled in.

We're back at home now, and there are just three of us in the whole world, Simon, baby Caroline and me, and my name is Vickie.

[WBDaddy]

I tried to read a segment here on the back page to get a feel for the story, and realized it was hopeless, as so many things immediately impressed me as being deeply interconnect.

Hence, I started back on page 1. In between work today, I've gotten all the way to March last year.

The stories have been absolutely compelling, although I must say the early stuff has a Dickensonian quality to it that is so charming. You mentioned a few pages in about the setting being 60's/70's for the opening of the story, but I felt that the moment I started reading. Your depictions are gorgeous, and I could almost hear Alec Guiness narrating. I applaud you, sir.

[freswith]

Thank you for your kind words. I admit it has got rather complicated, but some time ago I made a family tree of my characters so I could keep track of them. For your edification, here it is.

Of course, the characters and their addresses are all purely fictional, although the towns are real. There are only one or two "real people" in there but they aren't named.

I hope it gives you as much fun to read it as it gives me fun to write it. Unfortunately I've just landed a new job (in the middle of Summer: Damn!) so it is going to be quite difficult to keep it up, but I'll do my best. I made a few drawings to illustrate the early stories, but I gave up, because I'm no artist. If there is an artist or illustrator out there who would like to try their hand, I'd love to hear from them.

[WBDaddy]

Maybe talk to someone over on FoxTalesTimes - there are some pretty impressive artists over there (including the one that did my avatar).

[freswith]

Amelia's Story.

Five

I don't know when I first became aware of it. My little world was so simple. There was Mummy, and Daddy and a big girl called Juliet, who was my sister. Mummy and Daddy looked after me and told me what to do and also what things I couldn't do. There seemed to be so few things I could do and so many I couldn't, but Juliet was allowed to do almost everything, and it wasn't fair. Mummy said it was because she was fifteen and I was only five, but Julia could come and go as she wanted, could stay up late, could dress herself and wear what she wanted, eat whatever she wanted, ride a bicycle, and even had a pony, and although I had lots of toys I was always being watched and made to do what Mummy wanted me to do.

Then I went to school, and I met lots of other children who had Mummies and Daddies and sisters and even brothers, but I didn't like boys very much; they were too rough and coarse. I learned also that I was a little bit different. Other children didn't wear nappies to bed and when I mentioned it they all laughed at me and said only babies wore nappies and I must be a baby, so I learned not to mention it at school. It seemed so natural to me, as without nappies I would have made the bed all wet, and I knew that was terribly wrong, but as long as I wore a nappy to bed all the wetness would be inside and Mummy wouldn't be angry with me or scold me, so I put up with it.

I wore nappies during the day, too if we were going on a long journey, or if we were going to church or to Gran's house. I didn't mind that so much, as there were times when it caused a lot of trouble if I wanted to go wee, but as long as I had a nappy on I could do it in there and Mummy wouldn't mind - she would just shrug and change me. If I had an accident Mummy would be very angry and scold me, so I was quite happy to wear a nappy when she told me to, as it would keep me out of trouble.

I didn't want to wear a nappy at school because the other children would laugh at me, so Mummy told me the secret was to go to the toilet between every class, and Teacher knew all about this and reminded me, and never objected if I needed to go during class.

When I went to visit Gran at her big house, Mummy always made me wear a nappy, and I would be in nappies all the time I was there, day and night. I didn't mind this as Gran was very kind and gave me biscuits she had made herself, and they were very good and I didn't want her to scold me and stop giving me biscuits. Her big house was a lot of fun, and there were lots of rooms that I could explore, and a great big garden full of flowers which I could run around in, although it was quite difficult because my nappy was so big between my legs and it meant I couldn't run too fast. There was a big pond at the bottom, but I wasn't allowed to go near it as Mummy told me I'd fallen into it once, but I don't ever remember doing that.

I wondered why Juliet didn't have to wear nappies like mine, but Mummy said it was because she was much older and had grown out of them, and one day I would also grow out of them, but that day never seemed to come; each morning I still woke up wet and Mummy had to change my nappy for me. I wasn't allowed to change them myself, as Mummy said it was too difficult for me, and I would never get them on right and they would leak. Once they were on I wasn't allowed to put my hands inside them, either, and Mummy would get very angry if I tried to take them off. When I did so in the summer, because they were too hot, she got very angry with me, and then dressed me in a big pair of pants with straps that went over my shoulders, so I couldn't take them off and my nappy would stay up tight even if I wet it a lot. I didn't object because I liked the big pants, which were very pretty, and they kept my nappy up so I could run around as much as I liked without having Mummy run after me to pull it up.

Normally Mummy would put me in my nappy at bedtime, after my bath, but sometimes Daddy would do it. If they went out then Juliet would look after me and she would do it. The routine was always the same whoever did it. After my bath I would go into the bedroom where there was a big table with a soft squashy top covered in plastic. I would wait for a moment while Mummy took a towelling nappy off the shelf beneath, and folded it in a funny sort of way, then take a second thin nappy and do the same on top of the first. She told me this helped to keep me dry, and made things easier in case I had a big accident, which I hardly ever did. Then I would be picked up, and sat down right in the middle of the nappy. I would spread my legs and Mummy would take a big dollop if white ointment from the pot and spread it thickly all over my bottom and between my legs. She told me it was to stop me getting a nasty rash, but I liked the feel of it a lot. Then she would pull the front of the nappy up between my legs. I really liked it when she did that, and she often had to tell me to stop wriggling. She would draw each side around me in turn and I had to stay very still while she put the pins in, or I might get pricked. Then she would fold the leg bits in a bit, which she said made it less likely to leak. I had the chance to play with my nappy at that moment and move it a bit if it wasn't comfortable, and I liked the feel of the soft towelling and the smooth cool safety pin, The pins made a funny click when she put then in, and I could never work out how they came undone. While I was doing this she would take a pair of plastic pants off the shelf and scrunch them up, putting her hands through the leg holes. Then I would lift my legs, unless I was feeling playful, and she would grab my feet with her hands and slip the pants over them, pulling them up my legs. I quite enjoyed this as the elastics gripped me on the way up, and then she would lift me back onto my feet, and pull the pants up over my nappy and tuck them in all round, running her fingers round the leg elastics to make sure my nappy was fully tucked in. I liked this, and I felt very warm and safe when I had my nappy on, and I like Mummy giving me lots and lots of attention. I knew that once my nappy was on I could have an accident and not get scolded, so I could relax and play.

It was a bit nasty if I wet myself, because Mummy would come put her finger up the legs of my pants and then tut-tut at me as she started to change me. I didn't like this because she would pull my nappy right down and the cold air would hit my bottom and legs. She would then wipe me down with wet things and then sit me down on a fresh dry nappy and wrap it around me. I liked that bit. It was warm and comfortable and cosy. Then I would be allowed back to play. It only took a few moments, so much easier than having to sit on a potty for ages and ages.

I began to realise that Juliet was allowed to do all sorts of things that I wasn't. She didn't have to wear nappies, she wasn't bathed and put to bed like I was and she was allowed out on her own and had her own bicycle and could do all sorts of things I wasn't allowed to. I wanted to be grown-up like her and go out and do things, and say clever things, and talk to Mummy and Daddy like I was an equal, and have them talk to me properly without making everything sound so silly. And she had a big boy who kept her company and played with her and went and rode horses with her and rode bikes with her, and his name was Peter and he belonged to her and talked with her, and I couldn't have him. And I wanted him very much.

One evening Mummy and Daddy went out somewhere and Juliet and Peter were left to look after me and Juliet made me take a bath and then insisted I should go to bed, but I wanted to stay up with her and Peter. When she led me into my bedroom and there were my nappies all laid out ready I started to object. I said it wasn't really my bedtime yet and she said "don't be so silly" and picked me up and sat me on my nappies and I had no clothes on and felt so silly so I wriggled and kicked and I kicked Juliet and she yelped. When she yelped Peter came rushing in and I stayed very still because I was a little bit afraid of what he might do, but all he did was smile at me and then said he would put my nappy on me and I was so surprised I didn't know what to do because he was a stranger. It was the first time he had noticed me and I felt a funny thrill, and it felt quite nice to have him so close and I really liked it when he wrapped my nappy around me and pinned it. I didn't wriggle or kick because I didn't want to hurt him and I didn't want him to stop. Then he picked up my baby pants and I lifted my feet in the way I would have done for Mummy, and he slipped them over my feet and pulled them up my legs and it felt all funny again. Then he picked me up and pulled them up to my waist, and ran his fingers all round to make sure my nappy was tucked in. Then he kissed me. I'd never had my nappy put on before or been kissed before except by Mummy and Daddy, and sometimes Juliet, and I liked it very much. I liked Peter and I wanted to be close to him, but he put me into my bed and left with Juliet, switching off the light and wishing me goodnight, but I stayed awake a long time thinking about him and how his hands felt and how he put my nappy on and I wanted him to do it again. I reached down and felt my baby pants and ran my hands around the elastics like he had done and I found I really liked my nappy because Peter had put it on me.

[freswith]

Eight

I started to look forward to the times when Juliet would was my sitter because she would let me stay up a little bit later, and Peter would usually come round. I did everything I could to get Peter to put my nappy on me because it felt so good, but I noticed that Juliet would usually think up a reason why she should do it. I noticed that she always wanted to get me to bed as early as possible, and I would object to that because it wasn't fair. If I objected enough, it might mean that Peter would come up with her and get me ready for bed, so I made myself difficult. I never got a smack - Juliet never ever did that - although there were times when she would get quite angry, and Peter would intervene and do the job himself. I really liked that. I even bargained with Juliet, and said I would go up early if Peter nappied me, but she didn't seem to like that much, although Peter seemed to, and I really didn't understand it.

One summer night when it was all warm and light she caught me by surprise, and I was ready for bed before I realised it was much too early. I said it wasn't fair, and asked if I could stay downstairs until the proper time, and she said I could as long as I was ready for bed, which I accepted. I was able to walk in the garden, my bare feet in the cool grass, with Juliet holding one hand and Peter holding the other. I didn't mind that all I had on was my T-shirt and just my plastic pants over my nappy because our garden is well away from other houses and no one could see me. We walked in the warm evening light for a long time, and occasionally they would pick me up by my hands and swing me to and fro, and that was lovely, although they had to hitch my nappy and pants up afterwards because they began to fall down a bit. Sometimes Juliet would let go of my hand, and I had Peter all to myself. We were supposed to be looking out for fairies, but although Juliet seemed to be able to see them, I never could; she said they were like little lights in the hedges. When we sat down I even climbed into Peter's lap and he held me the way Daddy did.

I stayed awake for a long time after I was finally put to bed, and decided to do a naughty thing, to get up and go downstairs to see if I could get out into the garden again and see the fairies, now that it was darker. I crept downstairs very quietly, because I knew which steps creaked and how to avoid them by stepping on the sides. I went to the lounge door, which was open, but the French doors into the garden were now closed, so I couldn't go out. Then I saw that Peter and Juliet were lying on the sofa instead of sitting on it properly like I was always told to. They seemed to be kissing, and Peter, who was lying underneath, was running his hands over Juliet's bottom and patting it in the same way as he had just patted me on the bottom. I couldn't understand why he was doing it unless he was trying to see if she had wet herself, but Juliet never does that and never has to wear a nappy, or at least I never see her wearing one. The she sat up on top of Peter and I thought she was going to get up and come out of the door, so I crept away back upstairs before she could find I was out of bed. It was a good thing I did so, because it seemed only a few moments later that I heard Mummy and Daddy come back into the house, and I had to pretend to be asleep when Mummy came to check to see if I'd wet my nappy. As it happened I had, although I don't remember doing so, and she clucked and muttered as she started to change me, but she didn't tell me off. She never does that over something so small as a wet nappy. Funny, I normally know when I wet myself when I'm awake, but it had been quite a strange evening all told.

All through that autumn the routine remained the same; I was allowed to go to school without nappies, and Mum started to use a new type on me for journeys and shopping, and also when we went to church. They were funny things that could only be used once, then they had to be thrown away, but they were lighter and more comfortable to walk in than the proper nappies, although she didn't put them on me at night time because she said I tended to sleep on my side, and the throw-away ones were inclined to leak then. Mum also put me in them when we went away anywhere if the journey would take more than an hour or two, because it was easier to throw any wet ones away than it was to bring towelling ones back and wash them. They were also easier to conceal as they didn't stick out the sides like the towelling ones did, and I could wear them under a dress so nobody would see them. If we were going on a really long journey, like we did when we were going to France in the summer, then I would be changed on the back seat of the car in one of the big car parks which they had along the motorways. I saw some of the strange toilets they had there, just a hole in the ground over which you had to squat, and I was quite grateful for my nappy because it meant I didn't have to use them. I was always afraid I might fall over in the middle of it.

Fortunately the villa-thing we stayed in had proper toilets, and I was able to use them, but I was still in nappies at night and during the little rest which everyone took after lunch. I quite liked it, as it meant I could stay up after my normal bed-time and stay with the grown-ups. Most days I woke up dry from my nap, which pleased Mum a lot, but sometimes she would forget to take my nappy off afterwards, and since I was never allowed to take it off myself, I would wander about the house and garden in just my T-shirt and nappy until Mum or Juliet came after me and made me change.

Mum also put me in the big towelling ones when we went to Gran's big house at Christmas, and then I wore some special pants over the top with pretty frills at the back. There I met another little girl called Vickie who I had seen before sometimes, but she was only three, and so was still in nappies all the time anyway, and she would wear the same kind of frilly pants as I did. I liked Christmas because I could eat and drink whatever I wanted, and there were lots of sweet things there, and I could play as long as I liked, and because I had a nappy on, Mummy didn't keep nagging me to go to the toilet; she didn't seem to worry about it, and so I didn't either. It seemed quite proper to continue playing with all my new toys and I was only interrupted on a couple of occasions when both Vickie and I would be taken up to the big nursery to have our nappies changed. I noted how Vickie would wriggle and kick her legs as if she didn't like being changed, but I was always good and stayed still while I was being changed because that way I could get back to my toys that much sooner. Why try to push your nappy away like Vickie did when it's so nice and warm when they put a dry one on you? Mummy always won in the end, anyway. I liked being powdered, and having the ointment put on, I liked seeing the big white nappy pulled up in front of me, and the big soft feeling coming up between my legs, and I felt so safe because I knew if I had an accident the nappy and plastic pants would stop it all running down my legs and into my shoes. Besides, little Vickie always looked so cute with her long fair hair and her big round frilly bottom. I liked Christmas!

Sometimes I stayed the whole night at Gran's, when Mum and Dad were away, and those times Juliet would stay too. Peter only lived next door, and so I didn't see much of them, they always seemed to be off somewhere and that somewhere never included me no matter how much I pleaded, so I had to find my own places to play.

When I stayed at Gran's house I would sleep in a big old nursery where I had plenty of room to play and it was kept nice and warm. There were funny bars across the windows that Gran told me were there to stop little babies from falling out, but I was a big girl and so I didn't need them, but I could lean on them and look into the garden. Some evenings when it was warm I would go out there with Juliet and Peter, but they seemed to be more interested in each other than they were in looking for fairies.

I liked staying at Gran's, and she never ever chided me if I had a little accident in the day, because I would have a nappy on anyway, and she said they were there to catch things like that. The only place I wasn't allowed to go in was the cellar because it was full of bottles, and the attic unless Gran was with me. There was a big chest in the attic with lots and lots of old clothes in it, and she would allow me to dress up in them. She let me choose an old nightdress from the big chest in the attic, and after she had washed the funny smell of mothballs out of it, she said I could wear the nightdress instead of pyjamas because she said it made it easier to change me, which was true because it was rather short, but I loved the frills and the puffy sleeves and the lace across the yolk. Gran said some of the clothes were quite old, and it was great fun to wear them. I know it's funny to enjoy being treated like a baby, but when I was at home Mum was always stopping me playing and making me to go and use the toilet every few minutes, and it was all so unnecessary, and it was nice to be allowed to amuse myself and not be ticked off if I had a little accident now and again.

In the nursery there was a really big changing table, too, and I would be changed on it because Gran said she didn't want to bend down too much at her age. I was allowed to bathe myself now, and as I came out of the bathroom Gran would select a big nappy from the shelves below the table, and shake it out in front of me before she folded it up on the table-top. Then she would pick me up under the armpits and sit me carefully on top of it. I didn't struggle or object because I knew she would get me nappied one way or the other, and I found I quite enjoyed all the attention I was getting from her. It was funny, lying there while she powdered me and put the ointment on, then brought the sides round one by one and pinned them. She was always very kind to me and made sure my nappy was comfortable and not too tight, and then she would ask me which of the plastic pants I would like to wear that night. I could choose the colour, although most of them were white. I liked the white ones because they went well with the nightdress, and after she had pulled them up round my waist, and tucked my nappies in at the back and legs, she would put the nightdress over my head and stand me up, and I could admire myself in the long mirror that was on the wall. There I was, a little girl with long curly hair, a lacy nightdress with puffed sleeves, and only a little bit of my pants were visible between my legs to show that I was wearing a nappy.

Sometimes she would give me a bottle of milk to drink while she was changing me. I never objected because I loved the attention, and I just lay there and drank the milk while she was doing it.. I normally wasn't supposed to drink anything after tea, because it made me wet, but Gran said I was usually wet anyway, so it didn't matter, and she didn't like the idea of me being thirsty, so she just made sure I had a good thick nappy on, and then I could drink as much as I liked. If I hadn't finished the bottle by the time she had nappied me, I would take it to bed and finish it there. She said it would help me to sleep.

One evening I plucked up my courage and asked Gran why Pembroke Rules were applied so strictly. She thought for a moment, and then started to tell me the story. It appeared that her great-great grandfather had broken all the normal family traditions of rapacious seagoing and joined the Old Grey Funnel Line - the Royal Navy. He had reached the rank of admiral, which he plainly felt was his due, but in the days when our navy ruled everything at sea, his only real achievement had been to sink two battleships. Unfortunately they had been British ones. The fleet had been steaming in two lines, and he had ordered a turn. Alas, due to a confusion signals the left-hand column had turned right and the right hand column had turned left. In the resulting mayhem, two of our finest ships had been lost, he had taken the blame, and been beached. He had returned to Pembroke under his own personal thundercloud and the family had lined up to honour him as he arrived. One of his children, a girl of twelve, had been so overawed that she had had an accident on the brand-new hall carpet, so duly published in the following day's standing orders had been a line requiring all persons liable to be incontinent to be appropriately attired, and she had found herself back in nappies, which she wore until she was married. Nobody had ever dared to challenge the Admiral's orders, and so it had become a tradition, and tradition was very powerful in our family. If I had any objections I should blame the signal lieutenant, a man called Trewinnard, who had been the cause of all the trouble.

I think I was always wet in the mornings, for one reason or another, but Gran never chided me, she just put her hands round my waist, slid the whole lot down my legs, and let me step out of it. I was then sent to the bathroom and toilet, but there wasn't much point because I had done it all in my nappy and didn't have anything left. Sometimes if I woke up before Gran came for me I could feel that I was already wet, so I just added to it. On one or two mornings I think I might have actually been dry until I did that, but it didn't matter; Gran expected me to be wet. I enjoyed my holiday from the incessant toilet training I got at home, and I missed it when Mum and Dad would reclaim me and put me back into pants. Normally when I was at Gran's she would put me straight into a dry nappy after I had had my shower, and after breakfast she would let me use the toilet. The she would replace my nappy and pants and complete dressing me by putting tights over it and then a romper. She said it made sure my nappy didn't fall down, but I think it was to stop me taking it off and then just saying it had fallen down. Unfortunately it all made it very difficult for me to use the toilet, but after a while I got used to it and used the nappy instead. At least it allowed me to play without interruption until lunchtime when she would change me. After lunch it was the same procedure. She said it would train my bladder to go at certain times. Alas, those times didn't necessarily suit my bladder, so I went into my nappy whenever I felt the need.

I liked Gran's house, too, because it was very big and there were lots of rooms to explore. One of the rooms was full of big books, shelf after shelf of them all the way round the walls. I wasn't supposed to go in there in case I hurt the books, but I went in there anyway when I could. Once Gran found me in there and scolded me and told me she had been looking everywhere for me because it was time for a change. I told her I wasn't wet, but she still patted my pants to make sure, and then agreed. I asked her what all the books were for and she told me they were mostly stories from the old days, and stories about our family and all the things they'd done. I asked her to show me some, and she got a really big old book down from a shelf and started to turn the pages. She came to a drawing of a fierce-looking man and told me his name was Drake, and he was a sailor and had been a pirate. I looked at the picture and saw a man with a big sharp beard and - to my great surprise - he was wearing a nappy. You could see it very plainly by the way his pants bulged out at the bottom, like mine did, and he wore tights like mine, too. Gran had said all our family had problems with their waterworks and I had often heard her say that once upon a time we had been pirates, so it was obvious that Drake had been one of us. I asked if we still had any treasure, and she told me there was supposed to be a treasure chest hidden in the house somewhere, but nobody could ever find it.

That afternoon I spent hours and hours going round tapping the wooden panels on the walls looking for a secret one, and checked every creaking board in the house, but I never found the treasure. Then Gran checked my nappy again and this time I was wet, but I couldn't even remember doing anything in it. Gran changed me and I resolved that if Captain Drake could be a great pirate while wearing nappies then I would become a pirate too one day when I grew up. I told Gran this and she laughed, but I wasn't telling a joke; I meant it.

[freswith]

Amelia the Pirate

I woke early that day. I wanted to pee quite urgently, and since I was never allowed to take my nappy off, I wet it deliberately. I think I was already a little bit wet, so it wasn't a problem. I still wanted to be up and around, and was very grateful when Mum came into my room. I was already out of bed - quite unusual for me - and was chatting cheerfully as she slid my wet nappy down my legs, and I stepped out of it and went out to the bathroom for my usual shower. I made the usual play of using the toilet; I often wet my nappy deliberately if I woke early, and I knew Mum would be angry if she knew that. Even so, I was in a hurry; this was the big day. The day we were going out with Uncle Percy on his sailing boat, and my chance to start my career as a pirate.

Breakfast finished, Dad went to get the car out and Mum took me upstairs again. It was quite a long way to the place where Percy kept his yacht, so I wasn't surprised when Mum insisted I wore some protection. I made no objection for once, as I knew it would be a long drive, and I usually wore nappies for such trips, and besides, as I'd seen in Gran's books, pirates wore nappies anyway. It was one of the throw-away kind, so I was able to get my shorts back on over the top without too much showing. I thought of tucking the legs in to make myself look more like Francis Drake, but decided it would be better if I didn't look too much like a pirate while we were so far inland. People might get the wrong impression.

It was a long drive, and most of it very boring, but the excitement of going to sea kept me awake, alert, and dry. Juliet, on the other hand, was rather quiet; Peter was off doing something with the navy and Juliet was missing him; evidently I was a very poor substitute. We finally arrived at a great big boating lake sort-of-thing, full of all kinds of boats which Juliet said was called a "marina", and as Dad and Juliet were unloading the car onto a trolley, Mum took me into a building containing showers and toilets. We had to press numbered buttons to get in, and Mum made me memorise the numbers carefully. I said I was still dry, and she congratulated me, but held a finger to her lips; the toilet was used by all the people at the marina and our conversation might be overheard. She told me to take my nappy off and use the toilet. There was a toilet on the boat, of course, but not much of a shower. I felt quite privileged - I was normally never allowed to take my nappy off, it always had to be a grown-up doing it.

By the time we came out, Dad had unloaded all the bags into a trolley, Uncle Percy had come out to greet us, and we all went through another number-gate into the marina. It was very funny, as we had to walk along a path of planks that was itself floating on the water, with all the boats were tied to it. Uncle Percy's boat was one of the larger ones, and was right at the end of this long catwalk, and so we had to walk quite a long way, which we did with Mum holding my hand quite tightly. She said she didn't want me to fall in the water like I did before. I don't remember ever doing that, but people tell me I did.

Mum remained very nervous when I went onto the boat, and I was the only one who had to wear a life-jacket too, which I hated because it was so bulky and stiff and restricting, and I felt so silly wearing it when all the others were not. It was really like cross between a nappy and a bib, and very hot too, so I voiced my displeasure but it fell on deaf ears.

We left the Marina through a sort of gate arrangement and went out to sea. I looked at the chart, but it was obvious we weren't going anywhere near the Spanish Main, wherever that was, but would have to be content with pottering along the coast within sight of land.

Mum put my things up in the front of the boat where there was a little triangular cabin-thing which I was to share with Juliet, much to Juliet's dismay. That didn't make me feel very good, and I felt worse when Mum showed me the toilet, all a mass of pumps and taps, and hardly private at all. I wondered just how long I could hold on before I had to use it.

I didn't much like the actual sailing, as I was sitting in the cockpit cramped in between Mum and Dad, and I wanted to be on the deck and exploring, but I soon realised that the boat tipped over at a funny angle pitching and rocking alarmingly and the wind was cold on my back, so I was glad of the warmth and security of my parents beside me.

At lunchtime we went into a sheltered bay, and Percy's girlfriend Alison busied herself down in the tiny little kitchen bit before emerging with plates of hot stew-stuff with rice around it. I hadn't had this before, and wanted to try it, believing it must be genuine pirate-food, but Mum seemed rather unhappy about me having it. I insisted on trying it, and found it had a very hot flavour which made my eyes water, but I didn't want to let anyone realise I was still a little child who needed baby food, so I kept on eating it, and found I enjoyed it, quite a lot, and even asked for more. I wanted to show Mum I could cope with hot spicy food.

After lunch we set off again, and I thought I would be better off down in the cabin and out of the wind. After a while I began to feel very funny, and my insides just wouldn't stop moving and it wasn't very nice at all. Then I suddenly wanted to be sick. I couldn't see how I was going to use the funny toilet-thing, and the air had suddenly become very thick and soupy and I wanted to be in the open air, and rushed up the ladder to the deck. I was now desperate to be sick, and realised I couldn't do it in the cockpit with all the grown-ups there, so I lunged for the rail to do it in the sea. Unfortunately Uncle Percy was in the way, and grabbed me, saying I should be careful not to fall in the sea, and I couldn't hold it any longer and I was sick all over him. Then the worst thing happened. The worst thing I could ever remember. My tummy seemed to develop a life of its own, and I couldn't control it and I had an accident. A big one. In my shorts. I could feel it run down my legs, and there was a terrible smell, and I was still being held firmly in Uncle Percy's lap.

Everyone started shouting at once. Percy dropped me like a bag of potatoes and Mum grabbed me. I could hardly see for the tears in my eyes, I was crying so much. I felt my shorts being pulled down, and cold water was splashed on me, and I was very roughly rubbed with a cloth. People were going in all directions, shouting and waving and the only one who wasn't panicking was Dad, who was steering the boat. My horrible life-jacket was removed, as well as my T shirt, and for a moment I was left unheld. I took the opportunity and dived for the hatchway, tumbled down the ladder, and bolted for the little cabin, as far away from that terrible scene as I could get.

I crept into my bunk in the pointed end of the boat, and drew my sleeping bag up in front of me to cover my nakedness and as the only defence I could muster. I knew I had done something terribly, terribly wrong, and deserved to be punished, even though I couldn't have helped it. I could never recall receiving anything worse than the occasional angry slap from Mum when I knew I had been impossible, and the mere prospect of a sound and thorough spanking filled me with dread. Would it be from Mum, or much worse from Dad? How hard and how long? Would it be on my bare bottom or would I be allowed the protection of my pants to cover my skin and my modesty? Would my arms be held? Would my legs be held to stop me trying to wriggle away under the rain of stinging blows? Would all of them watch me as I screamed and struggled? Would I kick and cry like a baby? The humiliation would be even worse than the pain! What would I be spanked with? Juliet had told me of the leather strap that Gran once wielded, and how it stung so abominably and hurt for hours afterward, and I had heard rumours of bamboo canes and table tennis racquets drilled with holes being used, and I dreaded the very idea. I could almost feel them whipping against my poor bottom. I pushed my rear back into the pointy end of the inside of the boat and shuddered.

Footsteps approached. My executioner! I cringed back even tighter. The door opened. It was Mum. I held my breath and hardly dare look, but then I was desperate to see if she was carrying a strap or a cane.. I let my breath out slowly. I looked at her, as well as my tearful eyes could see, and she looked at me. To my amazement she didn't look very angry. She just held out her hands to me, and I went to her. I couldn't have resisted even if I wanted to. I just wanted my Mum. She held me and cuddled me, and I clung on to her desperately, sobbing that I was sorry, sorry, sorry. She rocked me gently until my sobbing slowed to a sniffle, then reached into the big holdall and removed a familiar, rustling package.

"Come here, Amelia," Mum said, not roughly, but with a certain tiredness in her voice, "Let's not have any nonsense now." I felt the tension leave me, and I released my desperate clutch on her shoulders. I heard the rustling of the nappy being unfolded behind me, and felt myself being lowered on to it. No arguing, no resistance, no kicking and screaming, I was actually grateful to have it put on me, grateful for the protection, grateful for the warm softness of it where I had been steeled for the sting of a spanking.. I spread my legs and even held the front part up over me while Mum fastened the tapes. As a result it was a little tighter than usual and I certainly felt protected, but I also felt a great sense of security. I actually began to cry again, not the sobs of panic, but the tears of relief. I was safe now, at least at the bottom end, safe from the treason of my tummy. I felt safer at the top end, too, where everything had now left me.

Mum dried my eyes and made me blow my nose, and when my sobs slowed to a sniffle she drew a T shirt from my bag and slipped it over my head. She made no attempt to get my jeans out of the bag, and I knew why; they would never fit on over my nappy, and my shorts were gone with all the other fouled clothes, I knew not where.

"Come on," she said "Daddy says you will feel a lot better if you are out in the open, where your eyes can see outside the boat and your brain can make sense of the motion. You won't be so sick that way."

"What about Uncle Percy?" I said, dreading the prospect of having to meet him eye to eye after what I had done.

"Don't worry about Uncle Percy," said Mum, "he's a big boy now, and can look after himself." I followed Mum, holding onto her hand to steady myself against the pitching of the boat, and she led me back to the cockpit where she sat me between her and Dad, wedged in tight so I could hardly move. Percy was at the wheel, dressed in some old jeans, and Juliet and Alison were sitting opposite, neither one meeting my eyes, for which I was grateful; the mess might have been cleaned off me, but the shame was still firmly stuck.

By now we were sailing up a river, with low banks on either side, and eventually we came to another marina and moored the boat. Alison and Juliet promptly went ashore carrying a big plastic bag, and walked up the long wooden catwalk. I sat carefully in the cockpit, trying not to be seen and keeping my nappy out of sight below the sides. Mum came up from below with my holdall and a towel, which she kilted around me. Then she led me up through another gate to the clubhouse and into the showers. Here she washed me very thoroughly before putting a clean nappy on me and replacing the towel over it, tucking it in around my waist. Then she lead me back to the catwalk gate, and told me to go back to the boat, saying she would have to go and check on Alison and Juliet in the laundrette.

I felt suddenly very alone. The catwalk stretched before me into the distance, and my feet made a lonely hollow sound as they beat upon it. I thought of how my career in piracy had got off to such a sorry start, and thought again about Sir Francis Drake. I knew I could do better. I straightened my back and began to march, drumming my feet on the wooden deck. About halfway along I felt the towel slipping, and made a grab for it. Then I thought of Drake again, and seemed to feel him watching me. I could do better. If he wasn't ashamed of it, then neither would I be. I took the towel off from about my waist, slung it across my shoulders like Drake wore his cloak, and marched the rest of the way. I knew people were looking at me, but instead of frightening me, I found myself enjoying it. If Drake could do it, so could I!

[peepeepants]

I just read the first story (as in, juliet's whole childhood) and it read like a professionally written book. If the subject weren't so controversial you could make money with this.

[freswith]

Thank you! It is a pity about the controversial subject, but it does hold the story together. There are sections where the action carries it, but I still have to put in an ABDL element to please the readership. Most of it is now written by the characters themselves; once they are developed they do tend to write themselves.

I don't expect I'll be up for the Booker Prize - certainly not this year!

I'm glad to know I've still got some readers out there. I hope you enjoy the rest of the story. I'll put another episode up in a day or two - it's all written, but just needs fermenting and checking.

[jbz2079]

Quote-I just read the first story (as in, juliet's whole childhood) and it read like a professionally written book. If the subject weren't so controversial you could make money with this.

I think I said something along those lines a while ago.-- Of course you still have readers, we woulden't miss an instalment.

Thanks Freswith.

[freswith]

What can I say? Here comes the next one...

[freswith]

Dumped

Mum and Dad seemed very pleased about something, but were obviously reluctant to share it with me. There had been a flurry of telephone calls which I couldn't work out, and parental conferences from which I was excluded. Something was obviously brewing and I was not to be a part of it. I felt isolated.

Isolation was nothing new to me. I'd got used to it. To the other kids I was the spoilt little rich girl in the big house at the end of the village: the one who had to wear nappies at night because she was too high falutin' to be toilet trained, and too precious to be spanked for wetting the bed. I never went on sleep-overs with the few friends I had, I couldn't go to camp with the Brownies, and I couldn't have anyone to stay with me. Even my big sister was off the scene.

I'd watched Juliet go off to India with mixed emotions. She was my big sister, often my carer and baby sitter, and sometimes even my nappy-changer, but she was twice my age, ten long years older than me and so she hardly counted as a companion. Lately our relationship had cooled, and I knew she saw me as the embarrassing little kid with a problem, and worse still I reminded her that she had the same problem herself when she was my age. She'd worn nappies to bed until she was well over twelve, and one of my earliest memories concerned her rowing with Gran about having to wear them all the time while in Gran's big house. In the times when she was being nice to me she would tell me I would almost certainly dry up "in a year or two", but to me the days were long, and the promises were vague. In the times when she was being nasty she would bundle me off to bed as early as possible, nappied "to the knees" and spend the evening doing heaven knows-what with her boyfriend, Peter. I always tried to find out what it was she did, but she was very alert to my perambulations, and would whisk me back to bed with the threat of a slap on the leg. It was no use threatening to smack my bottom, since my night-nappy offered me a lot of protection, but I knew a slap on the leg would sting sharply. It was the only positive point of being in nappies at night; no spanking.

Sometimes, if I was very brave, or particularly fed up, usually when she wanted to put me to bed at an unfairly early hour, I would play up for all I was worth and then Peter would appear like thunder and order me to bed. In reality I loved Peter quite madly, and would do anything he asked, but I knew if I acted up just right he would put my nappies on me himself, and that had a peculiar attraction. I loved the feel of his big strong hands on me, and I loved to see those big square shoulders looming over me, and if he was a bit rough in putting my nappy on, it was still a strangely pleasant feeling when he did, a feeling quite unlike anything else I knew. I wondered what it was that he did with Juliet that made them so pleased to be with each other, and I imagined it might be something like what he did with me.

My closest companion was Asbo, my Jack Russell terrier. I'd been given him a year back when Juliet was about to go off on her gap-year travels, and I would be left alone. Asbo was my genuine soul-mate - he feared nothing that lived on this earth, none of the nameless things that came by night, and was always ready for an adventure. He shared my bedroom and guarded me jealously, and would snarl furiously at the village kids when they taunted me. One or two had felt his teeth, and all respected him. My problem was supposed to be a closely guarded secret, but Mum insisted on putting my nappies out to dry on the line with all the other washing, and it was as clear as a flag signal that here dwelled a child with a problem, a three-foot-square terry-towelling problem with the oversize baby pants to go with it. Mum maintained that our garden was too private for anyone to see them, but the woods behind were the regular playground for the village kids, and everyone seemed to know.

Now Juliet had touched base again for a few days, but without Peter, who was joining the Navy, and was off at Dartmouth on a very important course. That left Juliet hanging round the place like a bear with a sore head, and she had jumped at Gran's request to house-sit Pembroke while she and Granpa took a Caribbean cruise. That left me, in the middle of the summer holidays, with just Asbo and the woods, but now something was happening and it was obvious I was not included.

Mum came towards me with that peculiar smile adults have when they want you to do something you don't want to do. "Do you want to come shopping dear? We have got to get you a new school uniform." Or "How would you like a nice dry nappy on? - you must be wet by now." Or "We're of to Gran's for tea", Or even "You look a bit tired, dear, would you like to take a nap?" and instinctively I looked for the catch. So many times I'd been nappied on the spot, then taken away from my game for some boring adult purpose. Sometimes I'd even been nappied on the lawn when I could hear children playing in the wood behind, and was certain they could see me. This time it was a bit different. "How would you like to go and stay with Juliet in Pembroke for a night or two?" I stared to protest and gestured towards Asbo. "Of course you can take Asbo with you; you wouldn't want him to go into kennels, would you?" That was an arm-twist if ever there was one. I'd been mortified to leave Asbo in the kennels when we went off to France a few weeks ago, and he had been pathetically pleased to see me when I went to fetch him. I couldn't go through that again. By and large it sounded like a fair offer; I had seen all too little of my grown-up sister and there were things I wanted to ask her - not least what it was she and Peter actually did together. I mean, it can't have been THAT - they weren't even married, and it sounded revolting anyway.

In answer to my questions, Mum said that Uncle Percy had invited them to go off for the weekend on his boat. That made it very clear. After the last trip, when I had had that dreadful accident while sitting in his lap, I was not invited and on my side I was reluctant to go; the memory of the shame of my accident was still enough to make my cheeks burn. A change of scenery, and a chance to mend some fences with Juliet seemed the better idea. Naturally, I made sure I appeared reluctant, with the drooping head and the outthrust lip, but it was an accepted part of the relationship. I would expect a suitable favour for going along with their plans, but I had a negotiating position to stake out.

I managed to retain my sad demeanour all the way to Pembroke, and only dropped it briefly when Mum exclaimed at the sight of a strange car in the driveway as we got there. It was sort of old and a bit battered, with a patch of grey paint on one door contrasting with the orange colour of the rest of it. It looked sort of low and could have been quite fast - once. Juliet opened the door for us, and was looking rather smug about something, although Mum was distinctly on edge. Asbo promptly dashed past through to the back garden where he had obviously heard something that needed killing. Dad dumped my bag, complete with a part-pack of disposable nappies, on the hall floor, and they all stood there a bit awkwardly. Then another figure joined us, walking rather stiffly because Asbo had attached himself to one leg. My heart leapt. It was Peter and the sun rose in the sky.

Mum and Dad spoke briefly with Juliet, and let out that the trip was really a long weekend - four days or so. Juliet was not impressed, but Dad passed her a wad of money and she relented. I knew Juliet was broke as usual, and wondered just how big the bribe had to be to get her to put up with me for four days. I hoped it was a large one, as I was sure I was worth it. I wondered what the alternative would be - would they put me into the kennels with Asbo? Even that might be fun. Eventually my parents left me with my new jailers and I was marched upstairs. It was plain the nursery was to be my place of confinement rather than a grown-up bedroom, and I decided to up the ante because of it. No sooner had Peter dropped my holdall on the floor, complete with the bag of nappies, then I started in. No, I didn't need nappies any longer, even at night: I was going to be dry. Juliet promptly rose to the bait and insisted I would have to wear one, and threatened to apply Pembroke Rules and put me back into nappies for the whole time I was there. I pointed out that Gran wasn't here and Pembroke Rules didn't apply, and so it went on until Peter fell for the trap I'd laid, whipped my pants down and hoiked me up onto the changing table where he proceeded to nappy me. I made a token resistance, but was careful enough not to struggle too much. Secretly I was enjoying every moment - I'd got Peter's exclusive attention, and lying there with this powerful man towering over me and his broad shoulders blocking out the light I felt that funny tingle of excitement running right through me again.

Alas, all too soon it was done, and I was back on my feet, my dress pulled down over the bulging nappy and, while hitching the leg elastics up into something more comfortable, I found myself thinking of just how soon I could dare to have an accident and get him to do it again. On the way back downstairs I turned to see them kissing again. On the mouth. It seemed a funny way to do it and I wondered how they could breathe, but it seemed to please them a lot and I decided I would have to try that for myself when I got the chance.

Lunch was remarkable for one thing. Juliet poured me a glass of wine. I'd had some before when I was in France, and got the opportunity to try it, but this was white in colour and tasted rather better. It had the same effect on me, of course, and I became a bit sleepy. Juliet suggested I should take a nap, and I agreed readily - that was the custom in France and in exchange I was allowed to stay up later in the evening with the grown-ups. It seemed like a fair deal, and Julia said she and Peter would be taking a siesta as well, so I wouldn't be missing anything. I still had my nappy on, so that saved even more trouble, I just took my dress off, Juliet tucked me into bed and I pretended to go to sleep. She closed the nursery door on the way out, which annoyed me as I had other plans about that.

I heard Juliet and Peter go into the second bedroom and close the door, so I waited until I felt it was safe to go and explore. I left my dress behind on the hanger as the afternoon was still very warm, and I wanted to move quietly, but I cursed the rustle from my nappy as I crept across to the door. I considered taking it off, but that broke all the rules, it would have left me completely naked, and besides, Peter had put this one on me himself, and it was precious because of that. Juliet had closed the nursery door but I knew that door well, and how to open it silently. I slithered out onto the landing, keeping my feet close to the wall because I knew the old floorboards tended to creak, and I avoided those that I knew were prone to do so. I reached the door of the second bedroom with hardly a rustle, and looked through the keyhole. There was one single big mound in the bed, with Peter's fair hair visible and the line of his bare back. I couldn't see Juliet and I think she must have been underneath him. They began to stir, and I drew back hurriedly, afraid they might decide to get up and come to the door. All kinds of funny noises started to come from the room, and I slipped back to the nursery as quickly as I could. I was still no nearer to working out what was going on.

I closed the nursery door again and climbed back into the bed, but I didn't want to go to sleep after my excitement, so I lay there and tried to remember everything that had happened. I reached the point where Peter had put my nappy onto me, and at the memory of it I ran my hands all round it where his hands had been. I stroked the tapes where he had fastened them and rubbed them down, lifted my legs and I ran my fingers inside the elastics where they went round behind me, and then across my padded bottom where he had patted me as he always did at the conclusion of the process. They traced the path the front of the nappy had taken up between my legs and then all of a sudden I wanted to pee. Desperately. I realised that if I did I might get Peter to change me so I let it go, not pushing it, but just letting it flood out and a great sense of relief followed. I lay there for a long time letting it soak through, and then sleep took me gently into a world of sweet dreams.

[babykeiff]

I haven't had time to catch up until now.

Freswith, you don't have to fear, you have a huge and loyal fan base here, all enjoying your talent and skill. Yes, you are awarded the Booker prize and others for this wonderful literature. Please, don't get disheartened and keep up the good work, it is very very much appreciated.

[freswith]

Thanks Keiff, I'm delighted to hear that someone enjoys it. I wish I could write a little more, but alas I have been so misguided as to accept an interesting new job - and at my age such things are not to be refused.

Anyway, here comes another one....

[freswith]

The Nursery

The shadows had moved considerably by the time I awoke and the afternoon sun was making me uncomfortably warm about my nether regions. It was high time I was up, and I got out of bed and went to the nursery door. There wasn't a sound from the second bedroom, but then I heard the jingle of Asbo's medallion and the patter of his paws on the stairs. He, too, had had his nap and was now out to find mischief and naturally he came to me to find it. As his mistress I felt some duty to fulfil his desires. Things had been quiet enough for long enough, and it was time for action.

I had become aware of a certain familiar bulk between my legs. I would need to change it. Better still, I would like Peter to change it. That gave me an idea. Pembroke Rules required that I wear nappies in the day in case I had an accident on Pembroke's huge and splendid carpets and antique furnishings. The other side of the penny was that I could always demand a change, no questions asked. I wasn't terribly wet, but that was easily rectified, and by the time I had reached the door of the Second Bedroom I was somewhat over-qualified, and having to waddle carefully to avoid a leak. I adopted the appropriate soulful expression and tone of voice, and opened the door.

Juliet sat up sharply, going rather red in the face, and clutching the sheet around her. She couldn't sit up too far as Peter's arm was still around her, and he appeared to be asleep. I knew they were naked because I could see all their clothes scattered around them on the floor. They had obviously been doing IT, even though they weren't married, and I wondered what Mum would do if she found out. Telling Mum, however, was not an immediate possibility, and there could be interesting possibilities for blackmail if I could work it out. I contented myself with pointing out the unnecessary - my soaking wet nappy. I could have taken it off, I suppose, or I could even have changed it, but that would have defeated my purpose. If Juliet was going to insist that I wore nappies, I would insist that she change them - or better still - get Peter to change them, and that should be at a time of my choosing.

I knew Pembroke Rules inside out by now, with all their precedents, sub-clauses, mitigations, and elaborations, and those were my rights. I wore nappies when I was at Pembroke. I wouldn't be scolded for having an accident, and that meant I could wet them if I felt like it. I could ask for a change anytime and, within limits, as often as I liked. I decided I was going to exercise that privilege, especially if I could arrange it so Peter was the one who changed me. I think I was onto a winner here - Peter had certainly never hesitated when asked, and to him Pembroke Rules were Standing Orders, to be observed and enforced, and if I didn't like it... well.... Actually, I think I did. It was my one hold over Peter. It was my only way of getting his attention away from Juliet; it was my way of being noticed and not being the little child who should be barely seen and certainly not heard.

I didn't get my way that time. It was Juliet who took me through the ritual of the cleanup and change. I didn't object to it - I would have another crack at Peter later, and I declined the offer of a pair of shorts to cover me. I knew it was rather daring, but that's exactly how I was feeling at that moment. I contented myself with just my T-shirt and nappy, with socks and sandals below; it was very hot and I felt a little cooler that way.

We spent the next hour or two in the garden, Peter and me, but Juliet came along too. I took off my socks and sandals to feel the cool grass between my toes. It made me want to pee, but for once I held it as I didn't want to interrupt the idyll with another change. At one point they picked me up by my arms and swung me out over the pond and I think I did very well to hold it then. I can do it when I want to, but there are times - such as at Christmas - when I'm wearing a nappy and it's just so much nicer to let it go, so I don't have to interrupt things by going to the lavatory.

Supper was a bit of a disaster, Juliet is nothing like as good a cook as Mum, but things took a sharp turn for the worse when Juliet told me to go and run my bath. That always meant bedtime was not far to go, and I felt cheated. I'd been co-operative about the afternoon nap, and I certainly wasn't tired, and I knew my rights. There were precedents to be observed, and treaties to be honoured, and I wasn't going to be short-changed for anything. We argued and bargained. I had right on my side and was determined to stand my ground. Eventually we came to an agreement; I would take my bath now, but I would have to go to bed until later. I held out on the nappy issue with the idea of making Peter intervene again - I really liked those strong hands on me, and they had given me such a lovely feeling when he'd done it before.

I took my bath, and played my Joker - I washed my hair. I have lots and lots of hair, brown and curly; it takes a long time to dry and of course I can't go to bed with wet hair. I was onto a good thing; now I had to get Peter to nappy me. With that in mind I objected when Juliet summoned me to the changing table. We had a row. Juliet even came up with one of Granpa's slippers from somewhere and threatened to spank me with it. I held my ground. Peter arrived, having heard us having yet another row, and then to my surprise he threatened to spank me too. I was torn between the two. I loved being held in Peter's big strong arms, and I loved his big strong hands on me, but being spanked by them with a slipper was a bit too thrilling a prospect. I backed down, and climbed onto he changing table and was as good as gold while Juliet put the ointment on me. I was rather amused by this; in her anger she used far too much and it went all over her hands, so she had to ask Peter to tape my nappy up. I won in the end. I declined the offer of pyjama bottoms. It was very hot, and besides, they would come between me and Peter.

I put my arms around Peter's neck and he lifted me off the table, and gave me a peck on the forehead and the inevitable pat on the bottom. I had to be content with that...for the moment. I smiled widely at Juliet, and then slipped around them to the nursery door and went downstairs to the lounge. I left them to clear up the mess - after all, that's what adults are for, isn't it? I was determined to have my full hour and a half extension of bedtime, as agreed, so I sequestered the remote control and sprawled on the thick sheepskin hearthrug to watch whatever was on, and pretend I was engrossed in it.

When they finally came down - heaven knows what they had been doing up there - Peter gently picked me up, extricated the remote control from my grip and sat down on the sofa. I followed the remote control and ended up in his lap, by careful design. I caught sight of Juliet's frown and realised I was pushing my luck, but that suddenly gave me a thrill, and I snuggled deeper into Peter's lap. He had put my nappy on me himself, so he couldn't really protest about the well-known danger of having a sleepy Amelia sitting in his lap. I loved every moment of having Peter's big arms around me, but somehow I suddenly felt very tired and warm and safe, and I can barely remember him carrying me up the stairs and putting me to bed.

I awoke in the middle of the night to a nameless terror. I didn't know what it was, but there was something in the room with me. Looking for me. Listening for me. Smelling for me. And I didn't know what it was or where it was; I only knew that I had to remain perfectly still and silent or it would get me. I was all alone. If I called out it would get me before any help could arrive. My heart raced, but I kept my breathing as shallow as I could in case it heard me and my arms and legs were stiff and still as if they were in plaster casts. Then something began to tingle, down there. I daren't move a muscle, and I didn't want to. I just wanted to get rid of the urgency and the tension, so I let it go, so slowly, and felt it flow warmly between my legs and around my bottom , giving me a wonderful sense of blessed relief. The tension in the room lessened and gradually the little sounds began to reassert themselves. I heard the ticking of the grandfather clock, the sound of the wind in the eaves and the tired creak of an ancient beam still cooling from the heat of the day, all the sounds that a minute before had been silenced, part of the same nameless terror. I exhaled, long and slow. Then I gathered up my courage, drew breath and lunged for the bedside light, letting out a shout that would have startled any lurking terror. I hit the switch bang on, and light flooded the room. The walls came back into their wonted places, the ceiling re-established itself and the room shrunk to merely human scale. I finished my shout with the last of my breath and sat up, clutching the thin summer bedclothes around me, staring urgently in all directions except behind me in case that was where it still lurked. Three breaths. Four breaths, and the sound of feet. Juliet came in the door, eyes wide with alarm, and shattered the spell. I burst into tears and began a stuttering, tearful and pathetically inadequate explanation of the terror that had gripped me.

Juliet relaxed, and came over to me, taking me in her arms, rocking me and murmuring soft words of comfort. I held on to her tightly, still sobbing, but feeling the last of the terror depart from me and fly out of the window. Peter arrived, his face filled with concern, and Juliet comforted him in turn with a simple explanation of my night-terror. He searched the room checked the window, checked the bathroom, and then said he'd check downstairs. I didn't want him to go - I felt so much safer with him there. Then I had and idea; I asked if Asbo could be allowed to come and sleep in the nursery with me to protect me. Peter didn't comment, but left the room quietly. As he left, Juliet slipped a finger into my nappy and felt the wetness. With a cluck, but without either comment or scolding, she began the familiar ritual of the change. I realised how grateful I was that I had been wearing a nappy, and for the first time, I think, I actually wanted to wear another one; the feeling of security was well worth the indignity and any discomfort that might be involved. Paws pounded on the stairs, the door was scratched and pushed open and Asbo appeared, followed closely by Peter holding his basket. I now had the strongest, sharpest-toothed and most fearless dog in the county to protect me and I felt I could face any terror that Hell might send.

[freswith]

Morning Thoughts

I woke earlier than usual because I was wetting. That, in itself was not unusual, although I normally never woke during the middle of it, but would only come to after it was all over. I carried right on because there was no point in stopping - a wet nappy was a wet nappy no matter how much or how little was in it, and at least if I emptied my bladder there was the chance of going back to sleep. I surfaced gently, worked out which day it was - Saturday- and cursed. Nobody else would be up early today, least of all Juliet, who liked to sleep in. I turned onto my side, and curled up, which only served to bring the warm wetness of my nappy tighter against my bottom. I cursed again, and reached down to see if I was leaking. These disposable nappies weren't so leak-proof as the old cloth ones, particularly as I tended to sleep on my side and had the occasional leak as a result, with all the discomfort, fuss and bother that it created. I felt myself wishing I could be back into the old cloth type so I could sleep on my side in safety. I thought I should tell Mum this, but that would have to wait until she was back. I couldn't see Juliet doing all the washing that involved, even though Pembroke had it's own little laundry and a really big washing machine. The sun was shining through the edge of the curtain promising another lovely day, and I wanted to be up and at it.

Eventually I gave up the attempt to get back to sleep and got up, waddled across to the window and drew the curtains back, reached through the bars and lifted the sash, gently and quietly so as not to let the others know I was out of bed. I leaned on one of the thickly-painted bars and breathed in the fresh morning air. So silly, having to sleep in the nursery when I was ten years old, but then I still had to wear nappies at ten, so I suppose it was appropriate. The nursery was fitted to cater for just that, with a huge changing table with large cubby-holes beneath to accommodate a range of nappies and all the other accoutrements. At Christmas, with cousin Vickie here and her little baby brother William, I sometimes had to wait in line, and point out which size of nappy was mine. The resultant choice would be opened in front of me. "Is this the proper nappy for you, dear, do you need a larger one now?"

I found it very humiliating to queue behind William and Vickie for a change, and be treated exactly like them. William was just a baby, and didn't know any better, but Vickie was five and sometimes protested, and would be told how good I was in not objecting to being changed for my own comfort, and there I was, standing behind her, often with my wet nappy starting to slide down my legs, and both loathing the indignity of a nappy-change and yet longing for the comfort of a warm dry one.

Once Vickie had finally been stripped, cleaned, bundled up, pinned and pantied, and the table wiped down yet again, my wet nappy would be pulled down the rest of the way, and I would be wiped down. There would be a brief delay while one of the larger nappies was selected, shaken out, and folded on the of the table, then Gran or Mum would say. "A bit of a booster, I think, she's had such a lot to drink today", and I would groan inwardly as one of William's little baby nappies would be folded inside my big one. That meant I would hardly be able to walk, and would have to sleep on my back with one leg bent, adding discomfort to the humiliation of having to wear one of William's nappies.. If Gran was doing it she would also add a couple of liners in case I had a big accident, but it was no use pointing out that I didn't have those any more; the liners went in "just in case" and I was told I wouldn't feel so wet if I had liners. Ultimately I would be "assisted" on to the table (resistance was futile; I would just be picked up and plonked down), and positioned in the middle of the nappy, allowed to lie back (or pushed down if I was being silly) and told to lift my knees to my chest - which I would do quite willingly, because the alternative would be to have my feet lifted in the way they did to William, and to Vickie when she was being fractious, and I certainly didn't want that indignity on top of all the others. I would lift my bottom while my nappies were positioned, and my buttocks would be smeared with ointment "to stop you getting a rash, dear", and then I would let my legs down again and spread them while the ointment was applied between my legs. The sides of the nappy would be checked to see that they were even, and only then would the front of the nappy be pulled up between my legs to cover my nakedness. One side would be pinned, and I would roll slightly so the other side could also be pinned, in the same way and using just the same pins as William and Vickie, drawn from the same bar of soap. During this I would usually catch sight of Vickie standing there, finger in mouth, watching with great curiosity as her big cousin was being nappied in just the same way that she had just been done. I would raise my legs again for the excess to be folded in to prevent the dreaded leaks. I didn't struggle or kick against my nappy as William had done, nor reach down to try to push it away as Vickie would do, not only because it was futile but also because I wanted to preserve what little dignity I could in front of the curiosity of Vickie and the blank incomprehension of William. I was allowed to touch my nappy and adjust the fit at this point, something the others were never allowed to do, and I might even toy with the pins, but I never tried to remove them. I knew how they locked down, but realised it was done to stop them coming undone and pricking me, but sometimes they made me feel as if I was being locked into my nappy. I didn't want that to happen for real, so I respected Mum's injunction never to take it off; better to wet it than be fastened into it.

After I was properly nappied, and looking out at the world over layers of terry towelling, there would usually be a slight delay before I would be asked which pair of plastic pants I would like to wear from the selections available. Mum always called them plastic pants, but Gran usually referred to them as baby pants, which term I hated. I rarely expressed preference for my garments of humiliation and took what I was given, but once in a while I made my choice, and I would raise my feet to receive them scrunched-up over my ankles, after which they were swiftly pulled up to my thighs. I would look down over the bulk of my nappy and watch them being drawn up, and finally I would be sat up and swung off the table for the last bit to be done while I was standing up. This was a tiny sop to my size; it was no longer so easy to lift my legs with one hand while sliding the waistband under my bottom as was done with William. The pants would be drawn up to my waist, securing the whole amorphous bundle into a neatly-shaped spheroid.

Finally the elastics would be checked to ensure that my nappy was tucked in all the way round, and the rest of my clothes would be fitted and adjusted. I was never supposed to touch my nappy, or put my hands inside my pants, although I usually ran my finger round inside the elastics a little if they were pinching me. Gran would then ask if I was "comfy now" and I would always reply "Yes, thank you Gran." Even though I felt I could cheerfully hit her for the humiliation I had just been through in having my nappy changed in front of Vickie and William.

If it was Christmas I would wear tights and a dress, which helped to conceal my nappy, but if it was summer I usually had to wear a romper, just like Vickie and William. Actually I liked the romper, it was comfortable and practical and stopped my nappy from falling down, even if it was so babyish. I was told that Vickie had to wear one because otherwise she would try to take her nappy off, but I was known to be too sensible to try to do that, and I knew how to undo the romper anyway; Vickie's habit of trying to take her nappy off was well known, and so her romper was zipped up the back so she couldn't undo it. At bedtime I usually wore just a nightie or pyjama top because Mum said it made it easier to change me, but Vickie was made to wear a sleeper, also zipped up the back and buttoned at the neck. We never seemed to get changed in the night anyway; Gran's doctrine was that if the nappy was thick enough it would last all night, and she was right. Her nappies could take all I could ever do in them, whether accidentally or intentionally.

Once I was changed, I was free to go and play. Usually the first few steps were a dreadful waddle, for both Vickie and me, but our nappies would soon crush down and we could forget all about them and carry on with our games until eventually Aunt Emma would check William's nappy and then Vickie's, and finally mine. Then it all started again. I didn't wet my nappy deliberately, but not all my wettings were accidents; it was just that I had to wear them, and so I used them; at Pembroke I was rarely given the option of going to the loo when I wanted to, and it was just so easy to fit in with the system and not to worry about it. At least there were none of those dreadful scenes if I did have an accident; Mum and Gran always took the view that if I was nappied it was expected that I would wet them eventually, and it was more important to avoid the nagging and rowing that went with accidents, not to mention the cleanup involved. I just went along with it, and everyone was - more or less - happy.

I stood at the window breathing in to cool morning air when I realised I wanted to go again. No problem, I went. My nappy was already wet, and it would only get a bit wetter. I didn't want to risk Juliet's wrath by taking it off, so I made full use of it. After all, why not?

There was something new now. I'd been changed by Peter, and it felt different somehow. There weren't any other children around, just him and me and, yes, Juliet but I could tune her out in the way I could never tune out Vickie's curious stare. Just him and me, and that was my dream. I could feel I was monopolising his attention, and in some way controlling him, and I think he was actually enjoying it. Was this what Juliet felt? When he was doing IT with her? Did it give her the same tingle it gave me?

There was the sound of the second bedroom door opening and closing very softly, followed by footsteps padding inexpertly down the creaking floor boards of the old house. Juliet would know better which boards would creak, so it must be Peter. I slipped back into bed. Asbo surfaced from his deepest sleep, stretched, yawned, and reacted to the noises from the landing with a couple of exploratory barks. The door opened and Peter appeared, to be greeted by Asbo as though he was a long-lost brother, but then five seconds later the mercurial Asbo slipped past him to see what the new day would bring. I took my chance, and drew back the bedclothes to show a swollen, well-sodden nappy between legs akimbo, the internationally recognised signal for "I'm soaking wet and I'd really love a change." Peter fell for it, and came towards me. No I wasn't going to object, I wasn't going to wriggle and I wasn't going to cry; I was going to enjoy this very much.

[dyperaby]

Once again, I read each installment of this novel as soon as I can. It is a great story, please continue to completion.

[weeboy]

bumping this story up as it deserves everyone to read it.

i hate when this story falls of the front page as it means i havent had a new chapter to enjoy lately......hint hint lol

hope to see a new chapter soon

[freswith]

Thank you dyperbaby and weeboy, and I hate it too when my story falls off the front page, and I'm delighted when someone gives it a "bump".

Naturally honour (and mainly vanity) stops me from bumping it any other way than by writing another chapter, so here it is.....

[freswith]

Ashridge to Waterloo

I certainly didn't object when Peter changed me, although it was an extension of the normal Pembroke rules. I mean, normally I would be stripped of my night-nappy and shooed into the bathroom to clean myself up. I would spin things out as long as possible until whoever was waiting would give up, and I would be able to get down to breakfast without being nappied. With any luck I could then make myself scarce in the garden or something until we were due to go out, when I could plead that Pembroke rules only applied in Pembroke. It worked often enough, especially if I was going home that day. However, this was Peter doing it, and that was another matter. He obviously wasn't au fait with the subtleties of the system and, for that matter, I didn't want him to be. Being changed by Peter was a new and fascinating game, and I wasn't going to spoil it by playing him up, wriggling, turning over, pushing the nappy away and all the other time-honoured games - not yet, anyway.

While Peter went down to make the tea and let Asbo have a run - poor Asbo didn't enjoy my lazy option and had to go out into the cold damp garden to have a pee - I decided to go and tease Juliet a bit. I had, after all, monopolised Peter's attention for ten minutes at least, when perhaps he could have been doing something - whatever- with her. Juliet gave me a pat on the bottom to see how wet I was, and then congratulated me on my dry nappy and it was with a certain quiet glee I told her Peter had changed me. I could see she wasn't too pleased at that, and I didn't want to press my advantage, so when Peter returned with the tea tray I changed the subject by asking what we were going to do today. I didn't want to be left out on any such discussion because it would mean that I would have to fall in with what they wanted, whatever it was. Luckily Peter suggested going for a walk in the forest at Ashridge, a short drive away, and I approved heartily; I liked the place and I knew Asbo loved it.

There was something different about the two of them this morning. They seemed much closer, Peter almost seemed to hover protectively over Juliet, while she appeared to have discovered a demure calm which she didn't have yesterday. Something had happened between them, and it very clearly didn't involve me. I watched them both carefully, noting their way of moving about each other, as though they were one body, changing shape but never quite splitting into two. Peter seemed much gentler, and it extended to me as well, he addressed me as "Little Sis" which took me back to my youngest days and was an unusual familiarity. I'd never thought of Peter as a brother, although I didn't quite know how one was supposed to treat a brother anyway. It's hell being a child, people feed you information like they feed a baby: watered down mashed up, tasteless and meaningless. I was tired of being treated like a child and so I resolved to try and find out what had happened.

After my shower I replaced my nappy; Peter had put it on me so I wanted Juliet to have to tell me to take it off. I was fairly sure she would - once we were out of Pembroke, then Pembroke Rules couldn't be applied, and I knew that it annoyed Juliet to see me wearing nappies. When she remarked on it I simply said that Peter had put it on me and so I had to wear it. I was expecting a rebuttal, but was quite surprised when none came, and even more surprised when Juliet simply picked a couple of nappies from the stack and added them to her shoulder bag, along with a bag of wipes. I mentally shrugged at having my bluff called and concentrated on pulling my jeans up over what was supposed to be a night-nappy; it took some time to do it properly, and then make sure it was all tucked in at the back and couldn't be seen, but I managed to do it and waddle off to join them downstairs. I was beginning to regret my decision, as walking wasn't so easy with the bulk between my legs, but I was able to sit cross-legged in the back of Peter's car and so it wasn't so bad. Perhaps it was a good thing I was wearing some protection, as there were no doors to the back seats of the MGB, and it would be a huge nuisance if I had to get out quickly to go for a pee. Fortunately the drive was a short one and we were soon deep in the woods where there was plenty of cover and very few people.

We walked for what seemed like hours until we arrived at a little glade with a view out over the escarpment, and I got quite used to the bulk between my legs. As we sat and picnicked, I realised that wearing jeans over a nappy on a hot day had been a rather bad idea. Not only were they rather tight, but they were also very hot, and I began to consider my alternatives. I had long since stopped bothering if anyone saw me wearing nappies, and although I realised my mistake over Francis Drake wearing them, the incident had taught me that few would appear to notice, and none would ever comment, so I could simply tune them out and ignore them.

Having consumed the picnic, and dozed a while in the sunshine, Peter went off to look for Asbo, which left Juliet and myself alone, so I took the opportunity to air my suspicions. and asked her outright when (not "if") she would marry Peter. Her face gave the answer away; she actually blushed, and so I pursued my advantage straight through the feeble diversion she had reluctantly erected. I was right; it was as near settled as it could be, but it wouldn't be soon. Juliet had to go to university first, which I thought that a dreadful waste of time, but I would be first in line to be a bridesmaid. Juliet pulled my leg about not being dry by then and having to wear nappies under my dress, and I scoffed at the idea. I would be thirteen then, and quite grown-up! Juliet continued to rag me, and for a moment I relished the idea of wearing a nappy up the aisle where everybody could see me but none would know; there was a frisson of danger about it, the thought that someone might realise what I was wearing and why.

Peter returned with a very dirty Asbo who had been extracted from a rabbit hole in the bushes before he could disappear underground completely. Juliet decided that she would use those same bushes to take a pee in privacy. This left me alone to consider my position. I decided on a simple stratagem and thus I wet my nappy where I lay, just in time to receive Peter's solicitous enquiry. I didn't answer immediately, but, using Soulful Expression Number Five, I opened Juliet's shoulder bag where I had seen her secreting a change. Peter took the hint without further encouragement and I was able to enjoy a rather hasty change by Peter while I lay in the cool grass like an aristocrat. We just managed it in time before Juliet reappeared, which was just as well, since she didn't appear to be very happy when she realised what had just happened. I don't know why she felt like that; after all, I'm sure she could have asked Peter to have changed her as well.... Oh I forgot Dear Sister, it's the one advantage I have over you!

Mum called that evening. Percy's boat had broken down and they would be away for a few more days until it was fixed. I tried not to sound too pleased when I spoke to her, and not too startled when Juliet stuck her finger up the leg elastics of my nappy as though she was checking a baby for wetness. I could forgive her that, in fact it was a bit of fun, just like the old days, but I wasn't going to wet this one until Peter was available to change me. Perhaps that was just as well, as I hadn't brought that many with me, and I had been using them at a bit of a rate. Blame Peter for that; it had never been any fun to wet a nappy until he came along, but Rules are Rules, especially at Pembroke and on Gran's precious carpets. Strangely, it was the first time I felt grateful for those unbreakable rules.

I took a shower, but when I went for my nappy to be put back on, Juliet stopped me; she said I didn't have to wear a nappy all the time, even if we were at Pembroke. This was a complete reversal of her normal opinion; I had lost count of the number of times she had insisted on me wearing a nappy and the number of times I had argued and fought and wriggled and twisted in order not to. I trod warily; I wasn't quite sure what she was up to. Perhaps she had sussed my game with Peter, and was determined to spoil it. Well, I could play games too. I argued that Peter had told me to wear one, and I wanted to please him. This went down like a lead balloon, and I could see her getting irritated, so I didn't press the matter, I just climbed on the nappy and taped it up myself. Nothing special about that, I'd seen it done so many times and was often allowed to do it myself. Juliet contented herself with just checking the fit and giving me the ritual pat on the bottom.

Juliet made a curry thing for us at supper. It was really very good for Juliet - she was always very nervous of cooking. I think Peter helped her with it. I know I'm not supposed to have curry - Mother's Orders - following my disaster with Uncle Percy, but that was years ago, last summer, when I was quite small and I've grown up a lot since then, as Juliet obviously recognised when she let me have some wine. I tucked in with delight, and to show that I wasn't upset by it I even asked for more.

I didn't want to go to bed when Juliet told me to, but then that was the accepted practice. I was preparing for a good old squabble when Juliet whispered in my ear that she wanted to discuss something very private with Peter. If there is one thing I love more than staying up late it's a conspiracy and so I went along with it quietly. Juliet was waiting in the nursery as I came out of the bathroom, and she had already turned down my bed and got my pyjamas out, and unfolded a nappy ready to receive me on the changing table. With only a towel around me I was not in much of a position to argue and was nappied, jammied, tucked in and kissed goodnight with record speed.

I lay there some time, as it was barely my normal bedtime, and worse still it was still light outside, and some was creeping around the thick nursery curtains. I wondered what it was that Juliet and Peter were doing, what was so important about it, and why I had to be in bed before it could be done. I could hear the murmur of voices coming from the garden, and ultimately curiosity got the better of all those rules and injunctions about not getting out of bed. I slipped across to the window, and carefully prised back the edge of the curtain. Peter and Juliet were sitting down there with a bottle and glasses between them and deep in conversation. I couldn't catch the words, but while I watched, Peter actually went down on one knee before Juliet, took her hand in his and asked a question. There was no doubt about it. It was how it was supposed to be done, and there could be no doubt about Juliet's reply either. So that was the big secret! I watched a little bit longer, but all they did was that kissing thing, so I crept back to bed.

I remember Juliet coming in when it was quite dark, and checking on me. I recognised her hand as it checked my nappy, but I wasn't quick enough in waking up to speak to her, and I went back to sleep almost immediately. They tell me I sleep very deeply, much too deeply, and that is said to be one cause of my bedwetting problem; I simply don't wake up in time. I was well away in a world of dreams, of handsome princes kneeling before me when all I really wanted was a lavatory, when suddenly the rumbling in my tummy started to break through my dreams, and wrench me back towards wakefulness. The prince, the glass slippers, the golden carriage with the toilet inside all collapsed into that universal singularity, and I realised I was in my bed, bathed in sweat, it was pitch dark and I really did need the toilet most urgently and for major business. I struggled, but my feet were entangled in the bed sheets, and in trying to slide myself out I caught the raised side-rail of the bed - something my own bed at home never had. I overbalanced in a slow-motion tangle of arms and legs, and in my sudden moment of panic and disorientation my sphincter betrayed me, and my bowels committed the ultimate in high treason. Fortunately I managed to regain some semblance of control of my limbs enough to land on my backside, but too late. My landing was, you might say, "soft", accompanied by a terrible squelch, and a foul stench assailed my nostrils.

I sat there for a moment, the wind knocked out of me - at both ends - and contemplated my very personal disaster. Then I did what years of childhood had trained me to do. I let it all rip in a wordless howl of dismay, I wanted Mum, I wanted Dad, I wanted Gran, I wanted Juliet, I wanted anyone at all except one person. I didn't want Peter. I didn't want Peter to come and see me in my humiliation and stinking disgrace.

Peter came.

I wish I could forget what happened next. Peter, whose sense of smell must be grossly defective, untaped my nappy and then realising the extent of the damage went beyond his experience and qualification in such matters, reached the bathroom in three steps and threw the remains of his own supper down the toilet bowl, I tried to hold up the over-filled nappy and terrified I would spill it, and Juliet arrived, took one look, and calmly took control of the whole situation just like Gran would have done. Peter was moved to the open window and ventilated. I was moved to the bathroom and showered, Asbo was ordered to stop barking and get into his basket, and so imperious was Juliet's voice and brand-new aura of command that everyone did as they were told. Within minutes a restored Peter was shooed back to bed, I was washed, dried, comforted, freshly changed and back in my straightened bed, and Asbo was reassured and calmed. Juliet smiled, rather too cheerfully, wished me a good night, and switched out the light.

I lay there in the welcome darkness. I had made a complete fool of myself. I didn't know how I would ever be able to look Peter in the face again. I had shown that I wasn't just suffering from a little problem that would cure itself as I reached puberty, but really had a major flaw that put me amongst the younger babies in the eyes of the world. My carefully-cultivated image of being a femme fatale was now stone dead. I shrivelled into the corner of my bed, and wept for the proto-woman I had once thought myself to be. Then, creeping out of the darker darkness came the terrible fear that I might have spoiled it for Juliet, that Peter always would associate her with the excremental little girl I had been this night, and he would seek another woman who didn't have such a putrid little sister. I just dreaded what Juliet would think, I dreaded what Mum and Dad might say, and mired in sorrow and self-pity I cried myself to sleep.

[jbz2079]

Good and enjoyable as usual, thanks.

[babykeiff]

Freswith,

brilliant as always. It is interesting seeing this from Amelia's point of view yet knowing the story as seen from Juliets perspective and how it hurt Amelia and her self worth, yet it was Juliet trying to split the Peter Amelia hold. In the Juliet perspective, although her actions were selfish in a sence, it is not until one sees it from Amelia's perspective just how cruel and heartless Juliet was. I doubt that Juliet even knew what damage she did to her little sisters sence of self worth - and that is from comparing Juliets tale of the same events to this one.

Again I am in awe at the skill you have. I know that this is fiction, yet I feel I want to fight to protect Amelia from Juliets cruel actions, and also protect Juliet from her own blinkered views. I know the storyline, yet still can't with to read it from Amelia's perspective.

Juliet gets spanked for her behaviour, (Juliets Story) but in that version, it passed off as a mix between sexual play and some slight correction for setting Amelia up to mess herself. In this version, the real cruelty is how Juliet stripped Amelia of self confidence and self worth (last paragraph as Amelia cries herself to sleep). Juliet knew the result of curry on Amelia, yet she sent Peter in to further hurt her little sister, one who obviously adores her. Juliet should have protected her sister by dealing with this herself - and peter may have known (Juliet could have told him), but Amelia would not have been so humiliated by someone she is trying to impress finding her in such a state.

In reality, Juliet has a lot to answer for, and the spanking she recieved is not ample justice.

As I siad earlier, Freswith, I am fighting for the honour and respect of Amelia - a fictional charachter in a story. You are a master here and I am honoured to be able to read this, and thank you for the priveledge.

[freswith]

I'll see if I can put things right in the next couple of episodes. One point is that Amelia is putting herself out to be the perfect gooseberry just at a critical moment for Juliet and Peter, and that is very selfish of her. Part of the underlying plot is to show that the development of a fetish may be due to a type of sexual synaethesia (A confusion of the senses: "What looks blue to you smells like sandpaper to me.") and Amelia, just starting puberty, is having her first hands-on experiences in the form of her "lover" changing her nappy. The poor girl gets her wires crossed, and becomes a diaper lover. I have tried to cover every aspect of the ABDL thing in the course of the whole story, and this is the logical conclusion. Juliet's worry was that Peter actually liked changing Amelia's nappy, and was himself a closet diaper-lover, and her motivation was to show Peter how horrible a dirty nappy can be in the hope of straightening him out a bit.

Don't worry, I love the characters I have created and won't let them come to harm, but Amelia still has a long way to go. Unfortunately I have just started an interesting new job (at 62!) and I'm enjoying it, so there is less time to write.