Phone Conversation

[freswith]

Childish Things.

I woke early next morning. I needed a pee. As soon as I shifted myself I felt the nappy clinging tightly around my loins, and remembered the night before. I paused for a time, running my hands slowly over the smooth plastic pants and around the elastics, feeling the padding where it bulged out beneath my buttocks, and my mind began to work. This might be the last morning I was ever likely to be able to do this; there would be no excuse to come down to Bristol after Juliet had graduated, and there was no way I could do it at home. I knew that Emma shared my feelings about it, but my mother certainly would not, and no way I could conceal nappies in my room, even if I could get hold of some. I promised myself that someday, one day, I would have a place of my own. Just a little place where I could do whatever I wanted to, to be myself.

Nature called, and for a few moments I thought of letting it go, and making full use of this unlikely privilege, but then I thought of Juliet, who would be picking me up in about an hour and a half, and what we had planned to do for the day; then adulthood called as well. I got up, went to the loo, undid one pin and slipped the package down my thighs. Sitting on the bowl, I contemplated the mass of plastic and terry, then, one by one I withdrew my feet, and kicked the bundle away. After my shower I removed the pins, separated the nappy from the pants, and dropped it all in the laundry basket, then Miss Amelia Grace, grown up in almost every way, attended to the remainder of her toilet and went downstairs to start the day.

We spent most of the day in Bristol, window shopping and seeing the sights. Despite stopping for lunch down by the Floating Harbour, I was getting a bit footsore by mid-afternoon and was quite amenable when Juliet suggested we go and visit Vickie. When I walked into the ward, childhood assaulted me again with the smells and voices of little children, and the bright colours and toys everywhere, but this time it felt a little bit offensive - it was associated with something I was desperately trying to leave. I had deliberately spent the day thinking grown-up thoughts, eyeing the young men speculatively, and carefully avoiding the baby-wear sections of the stores that we went into, so I didn't particularly want this forced reversion to childish things. However, Vickie was sitting up in bed, looking much healthier, and Gran and Granpa were sitting beside it listening politely to her chatter.

I was all right until they got onto the subject that united all the women of our family, that of bedwetting. Vickie hadn't told the nurses of her little weaknesses, and somehow the overwrought Emma had forgotten it too. The result had been that Vickie had got successfully through her first night after the operation, probably because of general inflammation, but had reverted to form on the second and soaked her bed. This had caused her much distress, as until she came to the hospital she had been nappied every single night of her life, and had never experienced the horror of a thoroughly wetted bed. Come to think of it, I hadn't either. I backed off a little. I had been trying so hard all day long to shake off those thoughts and feelings, and to be a normal, grown-up young woman, but they kept creeping back into my mind. Now they were being forced down my throat. I tried very hard to think of other things, even to listen to the sea-yarn that Granpa was spinning to the little boy in the next bed, although I had heard it many times before. I had just got to the bit where the destroyers were closing on the Japanese cruiser in the midst of a tropical storm when the staff nurse came round. She spoke quietly to Vickie, and I saw a wide-eyed Vickie nod in reply. I couldn't hear the words, but the meaning was obvious. Once again I tried to back off, but just when Granpa was getting to the sinking of the cruiser, a trolley appeared on the other side of the ward, and began its slow progress around the beds. Curtains were drawn at certain ones, and a rustling sound could be heard, innocuous in itself, but as clear as a brass band to the experienced ear, then the curtains were opened again to reveal an unusually tidy bed with an unusually quiet child therein. Granpa saw it, and realising that it was coming our way, finished his story, made his excuses, and went to rejoin Gran where she was talking with the staff nurse. That left Juliet and myself talking to Vickie, and I was looking for a way out of this situation. I managed to be on the outside of the curtains when they were closed around Vickie's bed, but I could hear every move, knew exactly what was being done, and in my mind I followed every movement. The curtains were opened again, and Vickie smiled at me sheepishly, and shrugged. I smiled back, but something inside me was bubbling again. I was kicking myself for not getting clear, but something else in me was envying Vickie, safe and well padded-out for the long night ahead, and the old familiar words came unbidden to my lips: "Comfy now, Vickie?" and she nodded slowly.

That evening, and for the next two nights I managed to avoid the subject entirely and concentrated on some serious partying with Juliet. I learned to watch what I drank very carefully, as living in the flat with two other girls, there was no question of my wearing any form of protection, and the bed had no waterproofing, so I resumed the practice of sleeping with one eye open, forever on my guard. It worked, and I was duly thankful as I never had the embarrassment of waking in a wet bed, which was just as well since Juliet was anxious to recover her deposit from the landlord, and that meant everything had to be left in immaculate condition. I even managed to be sensible when one of Juliet's flat mates overdid it and was dumped at the door semi-conscious and puking; I helped Juliet to get her to bed and roll her into the recovery position with some carefully positioned towels. I saw the risks this entailed, pitied the state the girl was in, and resolved to be as continent with my drinking as I needed to be with my sleeping. Something in me told me that Juliet had the same policy; I don't think I have ever seen her drunk, and I suspect it is for the same reason.

I also discovered that despite my young age and my spidery figure boys seemed to find me very attractive, and I didn't lack for male attention. I thought of Matt, but only briefly, and wondered if he was getting the same attention, or rather if he was trying just as hard as these boys were, and getting a similar lack of success. I had the feeling that Juliet was watching me closely, and so I kept any action down to gentle teasing and flirting while evading the groping hands as best as I could -while Juliet was looking. I think by Saturday I had heard every chat-up line ever invented at least three times, and felt I could handle any number of Matts. I had even evolved some fairly smart answers, and was quite looking forward to trying them out. I had also learned a new way of kissing, using the tongue; not very hygienic, but certainly interesting. I was looking forward to trying that out on Matt as well.

On Saturday Dad came down with he big estate car to remove Juliet back to our home, where she would reside the couple of months until her wedding. We shoehorned ourselves into the packed car amidst all Juliet's possessions, and went round to see Tom and Emma. To our delight we heard that the hospital had discharged Vickie that morning, and she was back in her own bed, still a bit weak, but well on the mend. Of course we had to go up and see her, and were delighted to find her sitting up in bed, rather pale but very glad to be home. Suddenly I was confronted again by a pile of nappies, but this time my feelings were different. These were disposables, and of a type with which I was not familiar, and somehow the same attraction had failed to carry over. Apparently the hospital had given Emma a stiff lecture on wound care and had come down firmly against cloth nappies, and Emma had finally been converted, and had even carried the conversion over to William, who didn't seem to mind at all, and was enjoying the lesser weight and bulk of the latest technology. Vickie had also won another little victory; the hospital had only made her wear a nappy at night, and she had managed to convince her mother that this was Doctors Orders, so even though she was still technically sick and confined to bed, she didn't need them in the daytime. Emma, delighted to have her daughter safely home, was obviously prepared to concede anything to keep the child happy. Emma's relief was almost tangible; it was only a few years since her second daughter, Angela, had been carried off to the same hospital and never returned, a victim of cot death. When I mentioned this to Dad on the way home he said that Tom and Emma were looking to move to a larger house and that would also help Emma to make a break with the past.

The next day I took Patch out for a long ride along the escarpment as far as Ampthill, mostly because he was under-exercised and much too corned up. I think he was holding it against me that I had left him alone all week, and he had to make up for it with a furious gallop; poor ASBO was left trailing far behind, and we had to wait for him to catch up. By the time I got back to Patches' field we were all exhausted, and who should be waiting there, leaning on the gate, but Matt. I listened to his account of his holiday in Newquay and of his new-learned prowess at surfing, and noted that he made no mention of the nightlife that probably made up most of the holiday. I noticed that he seemed a little reticent, as though he was withholding something that he didn't want to tell me, and I had the feeling that the nightlife on Newquay might just have been as educational for him as mine was in Bristol, and perhaps even more so. I would have to do something about that, so as soon as I had turned out Patch into the pasture, I got Matt to carry the saddle back into the tack room, and there I showed him what Bristol had taught me about kissing. Like Patch, I was feeling corned up and wanting the exercise. I also wanted to re-establish my relationship with Matt on a slightly more grown-up basis. Not all the way. Not yet, not just yet, but I was now resolved not to wait for my sixteenth birthday, if just on principle. I had been a child for long enough, and it was time to put aside childish things.

[Sarah Penguin]

Hmm interesting if slightly sad chapter, thanks for the story update

[jbz2079]

Thanks for the new instalment Freswith.

All the best to you in the new comming year.

[freswith]

Thank you JBZ, and all the best to you.

[freswith]

Bridesmaids

I managed to concentrate on Matt for the rest of the summer term and to try very hard not to think the strange thoughts that bothered me about nappies.  It was just that every time nature called - and with my bladder that was quite often - it would trigger thoughts of how convenient it would be to be able to just let go then and there, and carry on with what I was doing.  As schoolwork became more intense - and more interesting - I found the weakness in my bladder became a regular distraction, and I often daydreamed of wearing a nappy and using it while carrying on with my work, but I was very careful to keep it as just a daydream.  Ironically I realised that so many years of going to the toilet between every period now meant that the sound of an electric bell now also produced a call of nature; a little joke that I was careful to keep to myself, but it became very relevant when we discussed Pavlov and his dogs.

Every morning Dad would give me a lift down to the station on his way to work.  He ran the family business, which dealt in agricultural machinery, and on the five-minute journey I would often ask him about his work and the company, and he would speak freely about it.  I took an interest; it is always a good policy to cultivate Dad, since he paid all the bills for Patch and I was careful to keep in well with him.  It paid a dividend in an unexpected manner when I was given a school project about "How Businesses Are Run" since I had loads of background information available and, with a bit of help from Dad, I was awarded top marks for my project.  This was a rarity for me, as I was usually content to bump along in the middle of the class and avoid too much commitment to any particular subject.  The biggest fun at school for me was in gym and sports, partly because I had the build for it.  Although I was still a Junior, I was in the school netball team, this was probably because of my height - I was now one of the tallest girls in the school.

At home, plans and preparations for Juliet's wedding to Peter were the main issue.  I was livid when Matt said he wouldn't be able to come as he was going on a cadet camp, as I had been looking forward to showing off my boyfriend to the larger family, and by doing so stake my claim to be growing up, but he was adamant that he had to go to the camp and I couldn't dissuade him.  That left me on my own, although when I moaned about it to Mum she swiftly countered my misery by pointing out that there would be many of Peter's naval officer friends at the wedding and I would never have to be short of company.  She pointed out that this was a traditional privilege of being a bridesmaid, that you were on show and looking your best at a moment when romance was very much in the air.  That thought cheered me immensely; there were many more fish in the sea, and lots of handsome men afloat on top of it.  I was hugely flattered that Mum had even suggested it, since it showed that even she was seeing me as growing up and was old enough to talk to men.

Although I had tried very hard to avoid having anything to do with nappies, when the actual day came I found myself over at Pembroke getting ready for the wedding, and went into the nursery to say hello to Vickie, and suddenly it all came back to me.  Vickie and William had come up from Bristol the night before, and had been joined by Viola in the nursery this morning and all were being changed for the wedding,; the thick sweet smell of baby powder was hanging on the air.  Viola was standing at the playpen rails while William was on the table being changed, and Vickie, having just emerged from the shower with a towel around her, was arguing her case with desperation but without success.  As I entered, the tapes were slapped down on William's nappy and  Emma lifted him from the table and put him into the playpen alongside Viola, then she turned towards Vickie.

"Come on Vickie, you're next!"

"I don't need one.  I can manage with pants."

"Don't be silly.  We've been through all this before.  We really can't have an accident in the Church; it would be a huge scene and would spoil Juliet's day."

"I'm not going to have an accident.  I can manage school without having accidents; so I can manage an hour or so of Church without having one, too"

"It might be a lot longer door-to-door, and there's nowhere to go in between."

"I can manage a bit longer."

"You were wet after the journey up here.  That's only yesterday you had an accident."

"That's different.  It's much longer and Dad didn't want to stop.  It's always a free one anyway."  That was an admission - Deliberate Wetting was usually a serious offence, but a Free One would be offered if, as in this case, Tom didn't want their arrival delayed.  It meant that Vickie could use the nappy in preference to demanding a stop on a motorway where there might not be another service area for miles and miles.  If it was a Free One there would be no recriminations if she used it for its intended purpose, and Emma was out of order by even mentioning it; such was the common law of the family.

"Well, this is a Free One too."  replied Emma, which was a major point; only very rarely could the offer of a Free One be refused, but even so, Vickie stood her ground, and I admired her for it.

"There's a toilet in the vestry." I intervened.  "She could use that if she needed to."

"Thank you, Amelia, but it's the pure accident I'm worried about.  Vickie gets a warning of when she has to go but, unless she acts immediately, nature takes its course, and we get wet pants, wet dress, a puddle on the floor and a scene.  It's that which I want to avoid.  Now come on, Dear."

"I could take her to the toilet while they are signing the register." I offered.  "I might need to go myself."

"Doesn't the vicar mind?" asked Emma.

"No, he isn't in it at the time." I hit back, but it was too late.  Instinctively obeying her mother, Vickie had now come within reach of her, and was promptly seized, disrobed of her bath towel, and hoisted onto the changing table without further ado.  A large disposable nappy was drawn from the shelf beneath her and slapped onto the padded surface of the table.  The sharp hiss of plastic on plastic kicked off something inside me, and I suddenly wished that I could be the one on the table instead of Vickie.  It must have kicked off the opposite feelings in Vickie, because she promptly burst into tears, crossed her legs and pulled the damp bath towel around her loins, holding it tightly.

Gran appeared, coming up like thunder from the First Bedroom drawn by the sound of Vickie's distress, and took it all in with one sweeping glance.  Both Vickie and Emma fell silent, although Vickie's dewy eyes made a silent appeal to the High Court of Gran.  No words were necessary; the scene had been acted out dozens of times before.  Eventually Vickie simply said: "I don't want to be a bridesmaid if it means I have to wear a nappy." and folded her arms.  There was a terrible silence.  The operational orders had been given, the fleet was about to sail, and now someone had mutinied and threatened the whole thing.  I looked up at the nursery ceiling, expecting a thunderbolt, and then looked at Gran as she was more likely to be the source of that retribution, but even Gran was struck dumb by the determination that Vickie was showing.  Gran simply smiled.

"Vickie, my dear, it's not such a big thing.  Lots of little children have to wear nappies if they have accidents.  It saves them tons of embarrassment."

"Not when they're eight!" said Vickie, her lower lip jutting, "They are all out of them by then.  So should I be.  I'm not going to be a bridesmaid in a nappy.  And that's  that!"

Something clicked in my mind.  I had a position.  I was leading child, and head bridesmaid.  It was up to me to break this impasse.  As Gran was drawing breath, whether to bribe or threaten I didn't know, I made my own move.

"Perhaps if bridesmaids normally wear nappies, then I should too." I said, smiling.  "I don't mind wearing one, if it will prevent an accident.  Then you needn't be embarrassed, Vickie, because you won't be the oldest child there to be in one." 

I could see Vickie's resolve wavering.  Gran added "You would have to stay here, Vickie, and if you stay here, You would have to wear a nappy; it's the rules." Vickie blinked.  "Elke would have to look after you," she continued, referring to Percy and Clare's au pair girl, who was only a few years older than me, "...and she would have to change your nappy when it was wet."

Vickie boiled.  I knew how she felt.  Having a stranger change your nappy was the worst possible humiliation, and I knew how Vickie would react to that suggestion.  I remembered occasions when I had been called from my play to be changed by the sitter, whether or not I was wet, and how furiously I had protested.  I drove home my advantage.  "I said if Vickie had to wear one, I would too, and, Damn It, I'll do just that! Come on, I'll use that one.  You can have the other." and I unfolded the nappy on the table beside her.

The tension began to evaporate.  Gran didn't wait for Vickie's agreement, but simply said "Splendid then, that's agreed!" and, after giving me a large wink, swept majestically out of the door, closing it behind her.  I undid my jeans and slid them down together with my pants.  Vickie, still stunned, vacated the changing table as I jumped up onto it.  I made a bit of a fumble when I tried to put the nappy on but then Emma, overcoming her paralysis, took over the rustling mass and smoothed it down around my sides.  I then held my hands clear while she taped it firmly around my loins and felt the warm softness and cool plastic between my legs.  It felt wonderful.  I dropped down off the table and helped lift the still-bemused Vickie onto it, then spread a fresh nappy beneath her feet.  I watched as Emma's very practised hands slid it under her daughter's bottom, wrapped it around her sides and secured the tapes before she could change her mind.  Once Vickie was back on her feet I gave her a hug, but she didn't respond; apparently I had betrayed her and I realised that she felt she had been dragooned into surrender when she had been prepared to carry the fight still further.  Suddenly I felt terrible; Vickie had put her faith in me to support her protest, and at the crucial moment I had betrayed her and acted in my own interest.  I knew I would have to do something to put it all right. 

Mum called from the landing, demanding to know where I was as it was past time for me to change into my own bridesmaid dress.  I was now stuck with a problem; there was no way I could get my jeans on over my nappy, and no way I could take it off in front of Vickie.  I would have to go along the very public landing wearing just my nappy and T-shirt in order to get to the bedroom where my bridesmaid dress was laid out for me, and there was now no time to be lost.  Oh well! Francis Drake! I gritted my teeth and prepared to brazen it out.  Vickie got to the door ahead of me and made for the second bedroom, doubtless to seek the sympathy and support from Juliet that she had expected to get from me.  I couldn't let her do that alone, I would have to back her up now.  This had gone past the family-secret-in-the-closet stage and it was time for a showdown.  I showed Juliet what had been done on her behalf, then went on the rampage down the landing, still half naked apart from a nappy, and spoiling for a fight.  I swept past an open-mouthed Tom and made for the most vulnerable member of the family - my beloved Uncle Percy. 

Now Percy and I went way back, and it was sometimes a fraught relationship, but basically I loved him.  I loved the way I could wind him up; poor Percy was really rather shy and awkward as befitted the youngest child of formidable parents and with two older sisters, but he covered it by assuming a layer of stuffiness and pomposity which made him the natural target of any practical jokes that were going.  I hate to say it, but I was the usual perpetrator.  As I saw him the Devil tempted me with a wonderful idea.  I greeted him gaily, showed him my very nappied state swung myself into his lap and, in front of Clare, I gave him a big wet kiss.  I then explained the matter to Clare, whom I had every reason to believe was still being kept in the dark about the family problem, and promptly told her all about it.  I was just getting to the really juicy bits when Juliet grabbed me by the arm and dragged me away.  She was half laughing and half angry as she drove me back down the corridor, as a row exploded between Percy and Claire behind me.  Juliet suggested I deserved a thrashing for what I had done, and suggested I keep the nappy on for it as useful padding, and I drew breath to make a tart reply to her, but then held back, as another course of action had occurred to m, and I decided to turn meek and mild in order to carry it out without suspicion falling on me.

By the time we were all attired in our best there was only five minutes to go before the cars arrived.  All smiles again, I took little Vickie into the lavatory for a last-minute precautionary, and undid one tape of her nappy.  Then I committed the crime that is so horrendous that it has no name; I took her nappy completely off without permission.  Vickie looked aghast.

"We mustn't, we mustn't.  Mum'll be livid."

"Come on, she'll never know."

"She'll find out when she changes me."

"One, you won't be wet, two, that'll be after the wedding anyway, three, she won't want to cause a scene, and four, I've taken mine off already."

"But I haven't got any pants to wear!"

"We'll just have to go commando then, won't we?"

Vickie grinned, and nodded, and we managed to get back to the hallway, all duly lined up on muster parade just in time for Gran's hawk-eyed inspection.  There was one horrible moment when Gran asked Vickie if she was "Comfy now" - family code for "Is your nappy secure and dry?" but Vickie, I think for the first time in her life, managed to lie convincingly, albeit with my smoothly mendacious example to follow.

As we boarded the cars for the church I found it almost impossible to stop grinning.

[D503]

Splendid! The story's now like a baby blanket to me - a warm, comforting tale of innocence.

[Sarah Penguin]

Mmmmhmmm diapered & recently diapered collusion *giggles*

[fyunch]

Brilliant. You didn't quite tell us if Amelia took her nappy off ...

[freswith]

No, I didn't quite, did i?.....

[alex 04]

whens the next update

[freswith]

Your wish is my command!

[freswith]

A Near Thing.

The service went very smoothly, and I remembered to take Vickie to the lavatory in the vestry.  As we were sorting ourselves out for the photographs Juliet asked me how things were going, by which I took it she meant Vickie's little problem.  I told her what I had done about it and she laughed, but said Gran would be furious.  I thought no more about it until the reception, by which time Gran, true to form, had found out about it and I could feel her radiating disapproval towards me.  It took some devious manoeuvring with Juliet acting as a decoy before I managed to evade Gran and reach my objective - the handsome young officers who comprised Peter's party.  They were paying court to Granpa, and I managed to insert myself into the group before Gran could intervene.  Granpa was only too pleased to introduce me, and didn't even betray the fact that I was still not quite fourteen yet, so I was able to maintain the fiction that I was much older.  At Bristol I had learned that there is an art to being chatted up, and this time I managed to keep up with them instead of having to stare wordless at the floor while the sophisticated adult conversation went over my head.  I accepted a second - or was it a third - glass of champagne without reservation; I well knew what champagne does to me, but that had been one item in my careful planning of this morning.  While Vickie might be delighted in her un-nappied state, I was quietly pleased that I had left mine on - it allowed me to drink champagne along with the handsome young men around me, while not having to worry about the side effects that champagne had had on me in the all-too-recent past.

All went well until Vickie arrived with her big blue eyes and long blond hair, only eight years old but already radiantly pretty, and the officers, duly introduced by Granpa, opened their circle to admit her with avuncular amusement.  I was just getting on particularly well with a great big hunk of a marine commando called Bill Bainbridge when sweet little Vickie asks him a question.  Of all things she asks him what "Going Commando" meant.  There was a sudden expectant silence as the rather embarrassed Bill asked her where she heard that expression.  Vickie piped up that it was her big cousin Amelia who said it would be easier going to the lavatory if we "went commando" under our big dresses.

The whole party guffawed, and I felt a terrible blush burning its way up my neck and cheeks until it even reached my forehead.  I looked desperately for some escape but could only see Juliet, some yards away, holding her hand over her mouth to conceal her laughter.  It was obvious she had put Vickie up to it and I could have strangled her; only the hope that the floor might open up to swallow me out of sympathy stopped me from attacking her there and then.  Worse still, the champagne chose that moment of my greatest embarrassment to make an assault on my ever-too-small bladder, and I had a little accident.  I thanked God that I had worn a nappy, since leaving a puddle on the floor at this juncture would have demolished me, but I kept smiling and managed to control the flow, stopping it from becoming a flood.  While I was doing so another glass of champagne was pressed upon me and the circle of handsome men drew a little closer.  I decided to go along with it, but vowed there would be no way I would ever allow one of them to get a hand up my skirt, and remaining close to Granpa might be the best way to ensure that didn't happen.

All too soon it seemed that Juliet and Peter were leaving, and the party started to stream outside to see them off.  I had been trying to extricate myself in order to get to the toilet, and to sort out certain matters down there which were overdue for attention, but there was one final little ceremony to be performed; the tossing of the bouquet.  We all took our position, and I realised I was in with an excellent chance since I was taller than the other girls, and towered over little Vickie in front of me.  Then as the bouquet was thrown, to my horror a big pair of hands appeared around my waist and I was hoisted into the air.  I felt one of the tapes on my nappy snap, and the whole lot - much heavier than I had thought it to be - started downward.  I had no choice but to grab my skirt, and saw Vickie catch the bouquet.  On being returned to the ground I turned and saw that the big commando, the one they called Bootneck Bill grinning down at me.  As I held desperately onto the package with one had, I reached up and gave him a "playful" slap with the other, which raised another roar of laughter from his friends.  While they bantered and joked I slipped away, clutching at my errant nappy under my skirt, and slipped into the ladies toilet just inside the door.  Finally I get to divest myself of the remarkably well-saturated garment and slip it into the sanitary towel pedal bin on the floor.  I cleaned myself up as best I as I could with toilet paper and then completed my business.  On the way out I met Aunt Emma coming in.  Our eyes met, and I suddenly knew she knew; she was carrying the changing bag.

"Here, take these!" she said quickly, and passed me a pack of baby wipes.  I accepted wordlessly and made to return to the cubicle.  "Do you want a fresh one?" she continued, showing me the white folded nappy in her hand.  I shook my head.

"No," and paused, it wasn't half a bad idea, after all, "This time I'll really go commando.  I don't want another tape breaking on me." and Emma just grinned.

"Better than an accident." she said.  "Too much champagne, I think." and I smiled my reply.  Two minutes later I was outside again as if nothing had happened.

I enjoyed the next half-hour or so, congratulating Vickie on her victory and betting her that I would get married first, but her reply was to wave the bouquet in my face and jeer.  I returned to the knot of officers who ere heading for the bar and did my best to join in their banter, but it seemed all too soon that I was scooped up by my parents and taken back to Pembroke.  The house was a-bustle again with people doing things, and I changed from my lovely bridesmaid dress back into jeans and T-shirt with a certain reluctance and sense of anti-climax.  I had just realised that I would be going home to a house that was sans-Juliet, and there would just be me there with my parents; I felt quite keenly that I had lost the big sister I was just beginning to know. 

On my way down the landing I passed the nursery, and dropped in to see Emma helping her daughter down off the changing table, having packaged her for the long drive back.  Vickie duly took William's hand, and they both waddled out of the door.  Emma and I exchanged a few words about how well the wedding had gone and then she said: "I've left the rest of the package here for you, as and when you want them." and lifted the curtain beneath the changing table to reveal a package of nappies, almost full, in the shelf next to the smaller packages which I supposed were for William or Viola.  I thanked her automatically, before I took in the implications.  She had assumed that I would be back to use them, or to smuggle them out and back to my home for use there, and I knew she was right.  I thanked her again, but not quite so enthusiastically.  I knew that their presence would prey on my mind like the Devil's own temptation, and I knew that sometime, probably between now and Christmas, I would give in to it.  I knew that my secret was safe with Emma, but I didn't know how I knew; there was just this thing between us.

I went down with Emma to see them off, and said my goodbyes to Vickie, as she was strapped into her seat in the back of the car.  I noticed that the short dress she had on exposed the pillow between her legs, but made no comment; she was much too busy with her bouquet to notice and there was simply no point in disturbing her.  I cheerfully accepted Emma's invitation to visit them again at some unspecified date in the future, and waved goodbye as they drove off.  Then I went back to my own home in the back of Dad's car, and tried to think of positive things; there was Patch to ride - Juliet had formally given up her remaining interest in him to me - Matt would be home on Monday, and Mum and Dad would be taking me away on holiday a week later.  And there was a pack of nappies for me in the changing-table at Pembroke whenever I wanted them.

[Sarah Penguin]

Yay! Thanks for the story update. Now if you're still taking wishes how about a plush pinky pie pony?

[babykeiff]

Freswith,

[freswith]

Many thanks for the feedback.

[freswith]

Porthleven.

I missed Juliet very much in the next few months.  She was down in Cornwall and I was stuck at home, three hundred miles away.  It wasn't just Juliet I missed; after all she had been away at college most of the time for the last three years, but it was the lifestyle that went with her.  For much of that summer I had been treated as a young adult, and allowed to do grown-up things with Juliet.  Now I was back to being a little schoolgirl.  The holiday had been a disaster; yes the villa had a swimming pool, and I could go and lie down beside it, or we could go to the beach and lie down beside the sea, but Mum and Dad were always around, and that seemed to keep the local boys away.  As a result it was deadly boring.  My relationship with Matt carried on, but it obviously wasn't going anywhere as there was really nowhere it could go unless I went to bed with him, and I dreaded the consequences of that.  When school restarted I busied myself with school and sport, and rode Patch at the weekends, and looked forward to the hunting season starting again.  It wasn't catching foxes that attracted me to hunting, it was that I could get out of sight of my parents and do my own thing with other people, and I relished the freedom and independence it gave me.  I loved riding pell-mell across country, and testing my courage - and Patch's - against the fences, and I loved the camaraderie of the field.  I speculatively eyed the few young men who went hunting, and I even admired some of the older men from a safe distance; they all seemed so fit and tough and confident.  I tried to get Matt interested, but he was moving up the ladder in terms of playing rugby and most Saturdays he would be playing in a match somewhere so that really left us with canoodling on the train and meeting on Sundays.  Then I would cycle over to meet him at Pembroke and we would spend the afternoon together before Gran would put on one of her teas for us - a treat not to be missed.  The cycle ride back from Pembroke also had one other use; it allowed me to smuggle certain contraband back in my saddlebags.

One development had pleased me; I no longer had to have a "sitter", although the departure of same had happened quite without ceremony or mark; during the weeks Juliet had been home she had nominally been my sitter, but now when Mum and Dad went out for the evening I was now trusted to take care of myself, indeed, at fourteen I was sometimes employed to look after Viola if Percy and Clare were visiting, and I became adept at bathing her and putting her to bed, although as a boisterous toddler she could be quite a package to handle, and delighted in playing me up. 

I soon discovered that the great advantage in being trusted on my own was that without fear of discovery I could make use of the contraband I had imported from the changing table at Pembroke.  I now had the perfect hiding place and the opportunity to wear a nappy for a few hours, although I seldom actually used it for its intended purpose; I just loved the feeling of having one on, the comfort and the sense of security that I had once enjoyed every night.  The only thing I really missed was having some big hunk like Peter to hold me down, to control me, to anoint me, and to fasten the tapes tightly around me while I lay so vulnerably under him.  I used my imagination as best I could, and fantasised all manner of scenarios, and found my fantasy could switch from having normal sex to being diapered in a few seconds, and I could alternate between them, accentuating the effect.  Not, of course, that I knew what normal sex was like, but once again, I could imagine it.

In November my fourteenth birthday brought phone calls from Juliet and Vickie, both with startling bits of news; Juliet was expecting a baby in the spring - a cynical mind and a quick finger-count showed that they had anticipated things by a couple of months - and Vickie proudly reported that she had finally convinced her mother that she didn't need nappies anymore.  It had apparently taken quite some doing, but she hadn't been wet for more than a month, and Emma wasn't convinced of it until one of Tom's friends at the University commented that her brain must have finally started making the relevant hormone.  On comparing notes around the family we all said that when it stopped, it stopped quite suddenly, and so the explanation was accepted.  Vickie was over the moon; she now held the record amongst us girls for getting dry and had achieved her aim of beating her younger brother to it.  However it had needed the intervention of Tom on Vickie's behalf; it was almost as if Emma wanted to keep her daughter in nappies, but nobody - except me - would give credit to that theory.  Gran, ever cautious, said that if Vickie stayed dry until Christmas, she would be released from Pembroke Rules, and so it transpired.  That left only poor Viola subject to the indignities of the changing table at Christmas, although everyone hoped she would soon dry up.  The consensus remained that the errant gene only affected the female side of the family and did not pass through the males.  Unfortunately we were wrong; as winter turned to spring Viola showed no signs of drying up and Clare became very depressed about the matter, although nothing was said directly to either Clare or Viola, such was the tradition of sympathy in the family, and Viola was not too highly pressured in the matter of bedwetting.

When Juliet's baby was due I tried desperately to be allowed to go down with Mum to be with her, but was sternly refused.  It was during term-time, and I had started to work towards my exams and there was no way Mum or Dad would budge on that.  I felt the bonds of childhood even more keenly; no money, no driving licence, no freedom, not allowed out late, always having to account for my movements and my friends.  Childhood had become such a bore; here I was with the body of a woman, with a fine boyfriend (some of the time!), with a circle of friends, but still dependent on my parents for everything.  I began to dream about having my own place, my own job, my own car, and being free to come and go as I saw fit, but it was not to be.  I had to be content with a phone call announcing the arrival of my niece Holly, and the promise that I would be able to meet her as soon as possible.

As it happened it was June and high summer before Peter and Juliet made the long trip up country to introduce Holly to the family, and Aunt Amelia was able to hold her niece for the first time.  I sat with her in my arms, warm, soft and heavy, her head in the crook of my elbow as I had been taught, and I realised for the first time that I was now part of an older generation with a child dependent upon me, even if just for a few minutes.  Gran was hugely taken with her first great-grandchild and had the whole nursery re-decorated in her honour.  The remains of the pack of large nappies was one casualty of this, but I soon worked out that Gran never threw anything away; they had merely been shifted to that great chest in the attic with all the other nappies and stuff left over from Juliet's days, my days, and possibly long before.  It just needed a bit more cunning for me to abstract them when I felt the temptation getting too strong, but I managed it.  While I was there I would run my hands over all the big terry nappies that were also stored in the chest, and wondered if I would ever be able to wear one again, but the sheer logistics of smuggling one out, using it, washing it, and hiding it were too daunting even to consider.  I left them and the heap of carefully wrapped plastic pants where they were; someday I would work out how to do it.

It was during this visit that holidays were discussed.  Mum and Dad were planning to go back to the villa in France, but I wasn't too happy with the idea; I had been dreadfully bored last time, and there is just so much lying around sunbathing that I could tolerate.  My request to be allowed to go to Newquay with Matt was flatly rejected yet again, but then Peter and Juliet suggested I could go down to them for a couple of weeks; they had a spare room that would accommodate me, and it would be new territory to explore.  That sounded much more like fun, and I agreed readily.  I already knew that Matt was planning to go down to Newquay at the same time, and although Peter and Juliet were renting a house in Helston, they can't be that far apart, can they?

They can.  Thirty miles or more!  Out of normal cycle range, and I didn't even have a bike down there.  I was stuck!  Never mind, I enjoyed the start of my holiday, even though it was raining - apparently it rains a lot in Cornwall - I still had Juliet and Holly, and Holly was now able to sit up and take an interest in the world.  I made a lot of fuss of her, but she was Juliet's baby after all, so I had to hand her back, but it started a dream of one day having my own baby, and I began to get a little bit broody.  There were some problems too, as Holly really didn't like her nappy being changed, but I persevered and overcame them. 

On the third day the weather cleared, the wind  dropped and backed to the southwest, so the three of us headed for the beach at Porthleven, and set ourselves down under the sea wall.  It was my first chance to wear my new bikini, the one I had bought with my pocket money as it wasn't the kind of thing Mum would have bought for me, and exactly the kind of thing of which Gran would have Disapproved, but that was half the attraction.  I was fed up with sensible little-girl swimsuits such as we were required to wear at school, and my pale-pink string bikini was about as far removed from that as I could get.  Perhaps I was being a bit presumptuous; I'm tall and skinny and could barely fill the pants let alone the top, however I teamed it with a fairly tight white blouse, a big sunhat and a pair of Daisy Dukes, and felt ready for anything the world could throw at me - except for more rain, of course.

Thankfully the sun stayed out, the sky stayed blue and we were as warm as toast in the suntrap under the sea wall.  The sea was still rather rough after the bad weather, and I wasn't too keen to go swimming in it, but in the heat of afternoon when I had finally had enough of playing with Holly I made an excuse, divested myself of my blouse and shorts, and went down to test the water.  Then I strolled along the surf line to towards a group of young people standing at the water's edge with a few surfboards.  It was a chance to socialise, and perhaps to survey the talent, but when I got there I found that all attention was focussed on something else; one of the surfers was being helped from the water with blood streaming down his leg and there were murmurs of "wiped out" and "must have hit the rocks on the bottom".  I looked anxiously towards the casualty; the unruly mop of red hair was unmistakeable, so I ran down to the water's edge.  My first aid training is negligible, but I did what I could - I put my arms around Matt's neck and I kissed him.

We helped Matt up to the sea wall and someone produced a bottle of mineral water which I used to wash down the wound on his leg.  The blood didn't frighten me; I had seen worse on the hunting field, but this was Matt's blood, and something had to be done.  A few moments later and Juliet was with us, and she passed me one of the muslin nappies, which she carried to clean up the messes that Holly made.  With the water and the nappy I cleaned the wound on Matt's thigh, and found it was much less serious than I had feared, really no more than a very nasty graze.  I was muttering and clucking at him all the time just as I did with Holly, then someone produced a roll of bandage, and what training I had started to come back to me.  I rolled the bandage around his thigh, slowly spiralling up his leg passing it from hand to hand just like I bandaged Patch's legs before jumping at gymkhanas, and Matt lay there just as quiet as Patch would be while I worked my way up to the top.  Then I looked for the tape to fasten it, but of course there wasn't any.  Juliet fumbled in the changing bag and produced a nappy pin, which would just have to do.  I looked at the pin, I looked at Juliet, I looked at the goggle-eyed Holly with her bulging crotch, then I looked at Matt with his now similarly bulging crotch, and I had a sudden fit of the giggles.  Fortunately, unlike Holly, Matt was being a good baby and didn't struggle at all as I pinned his nappy - sorry, "bandage"! - until finally,  after I snapped the head down on the nappy pin, it was all I could do not to pat him on the bottom and ask him if he was "Comfy now, Dear?"

After that it seemed appropriate for us to take charge of Matt, and he was helped to Juliet's car.  His friends gathered round, and it transpired they had been following the wind as it backed around the coast in search of the best surf, and had finally reached Porthleven, famous for its breakers, but reckoned to be a place for experts only.  Matt had learned the truth of that the hard way, but thankfully there was no serious damage done.  While the rest of them returned to the campsite a few hundred yards inland, we loaded all of Matt's gear into Juliet's car and took him home.

We went home past the chemist, where Juliet bought some things for Matt's leg, so when we got home the bandage was removed and a more careful clean-up was performed with a load of iodine applied, then I made sure I got the job of bandaging him up again, which of course I did very slowly and tenderly.  There was some more swelling as I did this but I was not quite sure of how to treat that until Juliet quietly passed me a bag of peas from the freezer, and I applied it before Matt could see what was coming.  The result was fairly spectacular and I could see that the immediate problem was well sorted.  Of course, I used the nappy pin again; after all, it made him look so cute!

When Peter came home he had to have a full explanation, and it was decided that Matt should stay with us in a clean environment until his leg was sufficiently healed to let him back in the sea.  As there wasn't a spare bed in my room - and I am sure he wouldn't have been allowed in there even if there was one - he had to camp out on the living-room floor, but he was still very grateful for it.  The prospect of having to walk across the dark campsite to the toilets with his painful and rapidly stiffening leg did not appeal to him.

We went down to the beach every day while the really hot weather lasted, but Matt was unable to go surfing, so he had to remain on the beach with Juliet, Holly and myself.  The other surfers came up to admire Matt's honourable wound, and the girls came to adore Holly, who responded to their attention with delight.  I noticed that I attracted more than a few lingering glances from the boys, and this was entirely new to me; my investment in the little string bikini was obviously paying dividends, but as Juliet enjoyed showing off her golden-haired daughter, so I enjoyed the possession of my own handsome red-headed babe.  Even so, I was left with the nagging feeling that I really should get down to doing something about that swelling...

[Sarah Penguin]

Oh no poor Matt that sounds painful.

[warpiper]

you spoil us! another fantastic chapter freswith. I wonder which swelling she was talking about fixing...

[jbz2079]

Another grand addition, Thanks.

[babykeiff]

Freswith,

[WBDaddy]

Allow me another bump.

[freswith]

Thank you very much for your loyalty; I am sorry I haven't put another episode up, but I am having a row with Amelia over what she intends to do.

[jbz2079]

You know it to be just so Freswith.

Amelia has a bit of bother to live up to.

I'm sure she will set you straight.

[babykeiff]

Freswith,

[freswith]

Alas, Amelia tells me has planned for a wet weekend, but you know how unreliable the weather forecast can be.