Pink and co 1-9

[Pierry Louys]

Yeah you are right rsrs would be so cute to have a group babysitting with all boys in nappies hehehehe being treated like they deserved since they don’t act like 11 old rsrs 

[parkintochter]

Wouldn't mind a story about the "flanders family" ;)

[Sarah Penguin]

27 minutes ago, parkintochter said:

Wouldn't mind a story about the "flanders family"

they say if you light a candle in a bitchblack closed room in front of a mirror then throw a tiny paper cross into the flame while saying the name flanders  backwards thrice they will come into the mirror and take your soul so you are part of them forevermore protected from all that is sane and logical.

[maly]

Two boys down two to go.

Thanks that was good.

Maly.

[Les Lea]

Glad you all seem to be enjoying this tale... the idea of a Flanders spin off is... an intriguing idea?

[Jayme]

Pink can't seem to keep from digging a deeper hole, however at the end of part 5 I do believe he is having that "Ah ha" moment...

[Les Lea]

Part 6

 

When I got home mum had just got in from work and was unpacking her bags in the kitchen.

 

“James, James... can you come in here please?”

“Yer, what?” I knew I was in trouble because she called me James and not Jimmy.

“Yer, what?” she mimicked.

She looked as if she was appraising me and then launched into what could only be described as an assault on my nature.

“Your attitude toward the family is unacceptable. Your room is constantly untidy and you don’t help around the house. So, from today there are going to be a few changes.”

“You’ve got me babysitting Kevin isn’t that enough?” I argued resentfully.

“Oh, believe me, he’s going to be the best bit of what’s going to happen to you young man... starting with... after this atrocious weekend...”

She was obviously seething about something so took a deep breath.

“Do you know I’ve had Patrick’s mother in the shop giving me grief, telling me what an awful, corrupt and thoughtless son I have?”

I tried to interrupt to tell her she’s a stuck-up bitch but she talked over me.

“I don’t want to hear it James, the shop was full and she didn’t voice her disgust at you leading her son astray in hushed tones. I was so embarrassed and it’s you that has caused it.”

“I didn’t come up with the idea for Saturday night and I didn’t lead Pat astray... bloody h...”

“Well who did then? You took the bottles of spirit... and you arrived home in a disgusting state. Your room still smells from whatever it was you threw-up in there... so don’t you dare tell me you weren’t to blame.”

I was silent because once mum is in a bad mood its best not to speak. Anyway, it was hard to defend myself when it was true. I was thinking how to deflect this criticism but mum’s stance was not something I was used to.

“Pink’s mum has grounded him for two months. Paulo’s (Paulo Paganini is Paggs’s real name) mum has written the riot act and I’ve no idea what Patrick’s punishment is but, judging how ashamed his mother is...  I wouldn’t like to be him.”

“He’s been sent to an aunt’s down in Cheltenham.” I mumbled.

I saw her taking this information in and grimaced.

“The religious weirdo I’ve heard him talk about?”

“Yer...”

“Stop saying yer all the time... it’s yes... try to speak properly at least.”

She took in what I said about Cheltenham and I saw a strange expression appear on her face. It was as if something had clicked between her and that piece of information. Perhaps it was something Pat’s mother had said in her tirade.

“Anyway, you’re my responsibility and from today until you start back at senior school you’re grounded.

“But that’s the entire summer holiday. That’s not fair... and it isn’t going to happen.” I said cockily but I wasn’t sure.

“I’ll tell you what’s not fair, having your friend’s mother criticising my parenting skills.”

She said the word mother in a strange way as if she had nothing but contempt for her but I could see she wasn’t going to let me off.

“So you’re grounded and Kevin is going to be your complete responsibility. You’ll change his nappy first thing in the morning, you’ll get him washed and dressed and when you’re home from school you’ll keep him happy and occupied.”

“I’m not going to spend my entire time with a four year-old...”

“I don’t know why you’re objecting he’ll have to spend the time with you... and you... according to Patrick’s lovely mother are a ‘scourge on the school system’. I don’t know where she got that idea from but everyone in the shop now thinks I have a delinquent son. That’s not going to be the case... you are going to be the politest, most caring boy in the country and that starts with your little brother.”

I was quite furious that mum listened to that stupid bloody woman and I could feel my face turning red with anger.

“Why did you listen to that bitch?” I said with a sneer.

“Right, you can cut that type of language out right now... you’re not impressing anyone and it does seem to be making her point.”

I was furious so turned to go up to my room before I lost it.

“If you’re going upstairs you might want to take the air-freshener... I’ve not touched your room so you’ll be responsible for keeping it aired, smelling fresh and above all else... tidy.”

I didn’t know what to say. My head was full of things but nothing would come out - or at least form into a sentence. I stomped upstairs angrily thinking. I’d only suggested the party because I’d ‘obtained’ several bottles. Everyone thought it was a great idea and did their bit. However, Pat’s mother had done a right job on my character but as mum was seething I wasn’t sure of my position, mum angry and me being angry is an explosive combination.

“I’ll be up in a few minutes and expect to see your bed made, and the room tidy.” She shouted up the stairs. “I’d hurry up because the longer you hang about... the worse it’s going to be for you.”

#

Up in my room and I could see mum had a point even if I didn’t really want to deal with it. However, what was going through my head was, what did she mean - ‘the worse it’s going to be for you’?

Mum doesn’t threaten, come to think of it nor does dad so what was going on? I have to admit I was worried by this unforeseen reaction. With both Paggs and Pink in nappies this threat was quite worrying so thought I’d better get my shit together. I knew mum was fuming, as yet I didn’t know if dad felt the same, although he’d been none too pleased Saturday night. The thought of things ‘getting worse’ had me worried because, although I wasn’t sure which direction that would take, the options were a little scary.

My bed was a mess. I’d had a bit of a restless night, I think I was still coming round from the night before but thankfully, although my room still smelled a bit of vomit, all that had been wiped up on Sunday... by mum.

I stripped out of my school clothes intent on changing into something a bit more casual when Kevin popped his head around the door and came charging in. He was his usual lively self and launched his small body at me as I was stepping out of my trousers. Standing on one leg and with my trousers half off, the little sod knocked me to the floor and demanded I play with him.

Now, there are times when I don’t mind playing silly games with my little brother but after the ear full I’d just had I wasn’t in the mood. However, with him jumping up and down and ineffectually attempting to pull me to his room, and with my pants half on and half off, I shouted at him to ‘piss off’.

He looked at me as if I’d just given him a clout and burst into tears. Of course, mum was there and saw what happened. Kevin went and found some comfort from her but I saw that look spread across her face once more.

“See, you’re just a thoughtless, self-centred...” she was scrambling round for the right word, “spoilt brat.”

She looked around the room.

“I want this place tidy in two minutes... and don’t test my patience.” She looked down at Kevin who was still a bit shaken from my shouting at him. “C’mon sweetie, let see what’s on telly shall we.”

#

I was raging but also feeling unsure. For the first time in ages I didn’t just throw my school trousers over a chair, I folded and hung them up. In the moment between mum calling me a spoilt brat and me taking my pants off completely, I suddenly thought about Pink’s situation and having to wear a nappy all the time and all because of our boozy weekend. It occurred to me that after mum’s chat with Mrs Greenwood and her seeing the nappies pegged out, she might be considering something similar for me. And, although I’d been as supportive as I could be with Pink, I didn’t want the same fate thank you very much.

Our little wrestling game had been an eye-opener because it had given me a chance to feel his padding and jokingly I’d said it suited him. Not that I’m calling him a little kid, it just out of our small group, it didn’t seem inappropriate for him to be wearing such a thing. Perhaps it was because I was taken by surprise when I saw him but a nappy had made him ‘different’. I can only explain it that, from the moment I saw him in the morning looking sheepish, which I thought was because he was wearing shorts, to his BIG REVELATION, his entire demeanour had changed.

He wasn’t as loud, cheeky, insulting to his class mates or with the teachers. He wasn’t demob happy like the rest of the school because we only had two more weeks before the summer break. No, he’d changed, and it was an immediate change. Now I realised it was because he had to wear a nappy. I think wearing it had made him scared and self-conscious, with a sudden shiver of realisation that panic began to rub off on me.

Mum had said there’d be further consequences and I hadn’t helped by just being a stupid idiot with my little brother... after all he was only being Kevin. For the first time in, well, I can’t remember but I felt guilty. So, in quick succession I decided to tidy up, make the bed and go down and apologise to Kevin and see if he wanted to play. I certainly didn’t want to spend the final two weeks of term having to wear a nappy to class.

I looked in the mirror and saw myself reflected wearing just my underwear. There was no way I was going to let mum or dad put me in a nappy like Pink and Paggs but what if I didn’t have a choice? I had to change the situation and thought it best to make the first move. I slipped on a pair of jogging pants and ventured down stairs to find Kevin watching something on TV.  

#

“Okay Kevilumps (a childish name I call him when we do occasionally play together) sorry about shouting at you.... you just caught me off guard. Is there something you want to play at now?”

Unfortunately, he was engrossed in his programme and barely acknowledged my being there. I thought perhaps it might be prudent to also apologise to mum and get on her good side.

I wandered into the kitchen.

“Erm, mum, sorry for shouting at Kevin, he just took me a little by surprise... erm... sorry as well for... you know... everything else...”

“That’s...” She looked at me and was contemplating something but I wasn’t sure what. I hoped I’d hear the words ‘that’s all okay then’ but that’s not what I got. “That’s not enough James. Do you know how much hard work you’ve been recently... and I don’t just mean Saturday night and the mess you made then. No.”

I wished I hadn’t started this but I had. She reamed off a few of my thoughtless actions but then stopped.

“Look, I’m not going to get into it right now but when your father gets in we all need to talk... and more importantly... you need to take note.”

I didn’t like the sound of that because although dad and I get on fine this sounded serious. However, I doubt if he’s ever once gone against mum’s decisions. Dad may bring home the bacon but mum’s the one who decides how it’s cooked.

My mind was racing. I wondered what exactly she was going to bring up. I then began to remember some of the thoughtless, nasty and vindictive things I’d done without even thinking about them. God, I could tot up quite a few offences myself... what will mum come up with?

A shiver ran down my back and for a few seconds my mind was full of images of me and Kevin wearing nappies. Mum was treating me as if I was younger than him and it was disturbing to say the least. Then I latched back in to what she was saying.

“... so, for the moment, go and change Kevin... your little outburst scared him and he’s tinkled in his shorts. You might as well put him in his night time nappy and pants... and bring his wet stuff down so I... no you... can put it in the washer.”

I sighed because I’d never changed Kevin’s nappy before but it looked like I was going to get a crash course in doing so.

“Mum I’ve never put a nappy on him...” I pleaded.

“Well now’s a good time to learn. He’ll need wiping down, spread on the anti-rash cream, plenty of powder and make sure the nappy is on tight and all the material is tucked in around the plastic pants... okay?”

I sighed again but was glad she didn’t finish with “...and then put one on yourself.”

“I’ll check when he comes down and if it isn’t right you’ll keep doing it until it is.”

I was sure mum was joking but I thought I’d better not test those limits just yet. I gathered up Kevin, he didn’t want to come as he was watching his favourite show, but I managed to coerce him without resorting to anger or violence.

“Is Kevilumps a bit wet?”

He pulled a face that said he was guilty.

“Shall we do something exciting and new?”

That got him interested.

“Let’s see what we can find to make the world famous Kevilumps all nice and dry shall we?”

He got up from in front of the TV and scrambled excitedly to his room. I wandered up after him dreading this new job I’d been given and wondering just how do you change a small boy?

#

Usually, I have no reason to go into Kevin’s room and was surprised just how messy it was. His was mostly toys strewn around but there were a few stains on the carpet where stuff had been spilt and not cleaned up quickly enough. Of course his change table, which was set up on top of a six drawer dresser and held a host of bottles, tubes and plastic containers that looked well used. I forgot just what a mixture of aromas a small wet boy’s room produces with all the stuff he needs.

While not being quite four, Kevin normally sleeps in protection because, although he doesn’t wet every night, he still has accidents. He doesn’t seem to mind wearing that stuff at night but during the day he wears his little briefs, which are covered in his favourite cartoon characters. However, even then, like today, if he has a sudden fright, or something untoward happens near him, he’s known to tinkle (mum’s term for it when talking to Kevin) in his undies.

For me, this isn’t a problem because it’s never fallen to me to be the one to change him. In fact, in all the days, weeks, months and years he’s been part of this family, I’ve never once been involved in changing him. So, big moment, this was going to be an experience for us both.

Now normally I’d make a complete hash of it just to make sure I was never asked to do it again. However, I knew that wouldn’t work in the current climate. Also, I wanted to get it right. One reason, I wanted to prove I could do it and another, I needed to prove to mum that I was as responsible as anyone else. I hoped that would go in my favour.

“Okay Kevvy, do you want to hop up here?”

He looked at me with his big innocent eyes as if to say that was a challenge he couldn’t accept. Then I caught myself.

Look, you need to get a grip, he’s only a little kid... you need to do things for him not expect him to do most of the work himself.

 

I had to agree with my own appraisal.

#

I playfully let out a huge “weeeee” as I lifted him up and placed him on the cushioned changing pad. Thankfully, despite expecting him to, he didn’t try to wriggle away, which I was more than happy about.

“Okay Kevilumps, next order of business.... let’s get these tinkle shorts and undies off shall we?”

He didn’t object as I tugged both items together down his legs. I could feel how wet they were and a slight aroma of his surprise tinkle hit my nostrils. Strangely, I was a bit self-conscious about seeing my little brother naked, even though I’d done so almost daily; the situation was just uncomfortable for me. Still it could have been worse. I tried to make him laugh by ‘pretending’ I didn’t know what I was doing and succeeded as he giggled all the way through the process.  

I cleaned and wiped him and was surprised he seemed to enjoy it. After smearing in a huge dollop of anti-rash cream I went to sort out a nappy for him. I had to leave him on the pad as I went and grabbed a huge terry cloth square and began to think how it was to be folded. I knew it couldn’t be too difficult and went to get my iPad from my room to see if there was anything online on how to do it.

I was only gone a few moments but when I returned he’d wriggled onto his side and was about to fall off the dresser. My blood ran cold as he teetered on the edge but I managed to get to him in time before he plummeted onto the carpet. It’s not a deep fall but I certainly didn’t want the lad hurt because of my ignorance of changing a nappy.

Rule one: Don’t leave a small child alone perched precariously on something high.

“No, no Kevvy... be careful, we don’t want you to splash into the ocean...” I pretended the carpet was the sea and he was on board a pirate ship. My relaxed words belied the moment of terror that had just turned my blood to ice.

I held him down as I skipped through a couple of pages on screen and there was a tutorial on how a nappy should be folded for a boy. I followed the instruction with one eye on Kevvy, who’d found a soft toy to hug, the other on the iPad. After a sprinkling of powder I managed to get the material under him and pinned on. I was quite pleased with the result because it didn’t look any different from when mum does it.

Feeling quite proud of myself I found a pair of blue vinyl pants, which I wriggled up his legs telling him that it was what all the trendy pirates were wearing these days. Afterwards I tickled his tummy, grabbed a blue onesie from his wardrobe to pull over his head and snapped it closed between his legs. I thought he looked more like a toddler but that’s how mum dressed him for bed so I wasn’t going to tell her otherwise.

Just as I finished mum was at the door. Kevin waddled over to her and she patted his padded bottom and told him what a smart boy he looked and he should thank his brother for getting him ready.

“Fank you Jimmeee.”

I nodded and smiled.

“Did you enjoy being changed by your big brother sweetheart?”

“Yesss.”

“Good because he’ll be taking care of you a lot more from now on.”

“Yeaaahhh.” He screeched enthusiastically.

I was trying to keep the smile on my face but my heart sank and I ended up involuntarily shrugging.

“Good, glad we’ve got that settled.” Mum held out her hand and Kevin toddled past her, obviously feeling too big to hold her hand to go downstairs.

I watched as he disappeared and stood there waiting for mum to tell me what a good job I’d done. She didn’t, she just looked and harrumphed as if to say ’see what you can do if you apply yourself’.

When she’d gone I returned to my room, it had never been so tidy and I had to think that I was the one who’d done that. For the second time in just a few minutes a shiver ran down my back... this time I wasn’t sure what it meant.

##

Once Jimmy had gone home I sat and continued to watch the nature programme. Him seeing what I was wearing, and being okay with it, had certainly been pretty unexpected. I didn’t like the idea of being on show like I was but if Jimmy was comfortable with it then I suppose I should be too. There again, he didn’t have to wear it. However, there was part of me that hoped his mum might make him. I don’t know why that would make me feel better, because the knowledge that Paggs had to wear a nappy all day Sunday hadn’t made me feel better... but Jimmy wearing one would. What kind of friend was I?

Penny had gone out so it was just mum and dad who said nothing as we sat and ate our meal. Well, they chatted of course but I was a little self-conscious so merely nodded or grunted a reply not once was my specific outfit mentioned. I was sure the soft crinkle or the fact the nappy was thick and on view would have got some kind of comment but apparently, this was going to be the new normal. In fact, it was only when I said that Jimmy was coming round at 6.30 was I reminded that it had better be a quick visit because my bedtime was 7pm.

Dad said it this time and in such a way it felt like it was a gentle reminder rather than an order. Mum didn’t say a word or break off in the general conversation but I wondered if this was a test... so, I nodded because I didn’t want my bedtime moving any earlier.

When Jimmy eventually did come round it was 6.20 and we went out into the back garden to talk.

“Well, that was a first.” He announced. “I’ve just changed Kevin’s nappy for the first time in my life.”

I’m ashamed to say that I was looking to see if he had a nappy on under his jogging pants and felt disappointed I couldn’t detect any tell-tale bulge.

“Mmmm that’s a bit of a pisser.” I added a little sadly.

He laughed.

“Yes, he’d pissed himself because I shouted at him and mum’s making me do all the changes...”

“Did you find it easy?”

“Once I’d looked online how to fold a nappy it wasn’t so bad... why... do you need a change?” He asked cheekily.

“Funny.”

“Well, I have to change him out of his night time nappy, which is often wet, so I suppose I’ll get plenty of practice... should you need a hand.”

Resigned to the fact that now he knew what I wore, these are the type of comments I could expect.

“Okay, okay, is that your punishment?”

“No, dad has given me a curfew so for the next two weeks, until the school break, I have a bedtime of 7.00.”

“Oh, that’s like me.”

“Yes,” he looked at me pointedly. “Mum said it was your mum they got the idea from.”

“So, it’s just in school time, after that you’re free?” It sounded like I was pissed off and that I wanted something much harsher but there again, I was wearing a visible nappy under my plastic pants... and nothing had changed for him.

“Well, thank you, I think it’s enough but, mum and dad are talking now so there might be something else to come. Anyway, once school has broken up, those first two weeks we’re off on holiday... so I’m sure it will all stop then.”

“You lucky sod...” I said despairingly stroking my plastic bulge “I’ve got ‘til the start of the new term.”.

Of course I didn’t tell him I’d been wearing them at night for a few weeks already and wondered if mum had told his mum about that. He asked if I wanted to continue our video game but I explained that had been stopped as well. I then told him about the disastrous thing that happened at granny’s party and that my cousin Bradley was also wearing a disposable because he was being punished.

I told him about Uncle Peter and that I thought his advice had been crap... literally. We came to the conclusion it was all granny’s fault for giving the idea of nappies as punishment in the first place. By the time we’d finished mum came out and told Jimmy his mum called, he needed to get home as it was his bedtime. She seemed to enjoy telling him that as she looked at me and said the same.

“I’ll be up in a minute to put you in your night time protection,” she said and I knew that Jimmy heard. I could have killed her there and then embarrassing me like that. I was too humiliated to see what Jimmy’s reaction was.

However, I suppressed my anger “Mummm”, was about as far as I dare express my feelings.

She’d done it on purpose just to see how I’d react. Although I was steaming inside, I was pleased I hadn’t given her any further opportunity for punishment.

#

As always mum had got stuff ready. There were a couple of thick doubled nappies on the dresser and a couple of unopened packs of plastic pants.

“Mum,” I whispered hoping not to annoy her, “if I’m going to wear these all the time wouldn’t it be better if I could do it myself?”

“Oh sweetheart, that would be incredible if you could.”

My spirit lifted at this.

“Unfortunately, you’re only a silly little boy who has so much more to learn first before he’d be trusted to change his own nappy.” God she was laying this on thick. “So his mummy, daddy and lovely big sister, will be looking after him until he can look after himself. We don’t mind. We want to keep our little Pinky all nicely wrapped up and safe from messing everywhere.”

She pointed to the bag of stuff I’d not yet examined.

“Look, mummy’s bought a load of new things to keep her baby all clean and fresh.”

My spirit dived. Why was she being so awful? I’d never seen this sarcastic side of mum’s personality before and if truth be told, it frightened me. It was like we’d uncovered some evil genie and couldn’t get it back in the lamp.

“Anyway, it looks like you’ve wet this nappy,” she said pulling down my plastic pants and stroking the cotton fabric. “It could take a bit more but... let’s get you changed to be on the safe side. Besides, you’ve got a nice new thicker style of fabric to keep you from wetting the bed.”

She unpinned the nappy and it was damp though I didn’t remember wetting it.

“Lie down. That’s it let’s get you comfy.”

She pulled off the nappy and started wiping my crotch down. This is the most embarrassing bit and it takes a lot of willpower to keep from reacting. Meanwhile, keeping up a commentary about what she’s doing and how nice it will feel once it’s in place and that she has a little surprise for me once it all nicely pinned on.

The Sudocrem is applied thickly as is the powder and as she asks me to lift to feed the new material under my bum I can feel its new soft chunkiness. There’s even a new thicker soaker pad inserted which makes it more difficult to pull up between my legs.

“Spread your legs a bit sweetie.”

I do as I’m told so she can pull the various bits together and pin them tightly.

“That’s a new re-useable soaker pad made from bamboo, who’d have thought eh?” She enthused as if it was some kind of wondrous item.

Re-useable, re-useable I can’t get excited about that.

“Now for your little treat.” She said it as if I was about to receive a lollipop for being a ‘good boy’.

Mum unwraps one of the packs of plastic pants and I can see there’s a pattern on it. Up until now I’d only had clear or shiny white plastic pants but these looked more childish.

“I’ve bought you some more cheerful plastic pants sweetheart... I’m sure you were getting bored with those white ones. Anyway, these are much more fun and more appropriate for our little Pinky.”

They were pink and had nursery print animals all over them.

“Muuummm, please, I’m not a two year old.”

“No sweetie you’re not... but you’ve been acting like one and these are super-thick vinyl and will keep you nice and dry... all night... every night.”

Despite me seething I didn’t react as she shuffled the offending pants up my legs and tucked everything in. They were definitely sturdier and mum seemed confident they’d last a lot longer. I didn’t want to run my hands over them because it would look like I was interested but I did so automatically and they felt snug.

“There, now you’re ready for bed. So, let’s pull back the covers and you can slip straight in.”

That was it. I was now destined to wear even thicker nappies to bed and have them covered by tough childish plastic. There was one plus point, the vinyl didn’t rustle as noisily as the white or see-thru plastic pants and the whole thing felt a lot more flexible. The bad part was that the bundle was extremely thick and it took quite some time to get used to it and fall asleep.

##

When I got in mum was looking at her watch. “Cutting it a bit fine aren’t you?”

I shrugged... I should have apologised.

“It’s seven now and I said your bedtime is at seven so...”

“Yer, yer, well I’m here now aren’t I.” How quickly I forgot mum wasn’t playing any more.

“OK, we’ll see. Your father’s waiting in your bedroom.”

A chill ran through my body. I know they were chatting when I went to talk to Pink but this didn’t bode well at all.

Nervously I climbed the stairs. “Dad, dad are you...?”

“In here son.”

My anxiety levels were peaking as I saw him sat on my bed.

“Is, ermm, is everything alright dad?”

“It soon will be James... get yourself ready for bed and then we’ll talk.”

Dad sat and watched as I stripped and got into my pyjamas. I had searched around to make sure there were no nappies or such stuff but didn’t detect anything.

When I was ready dad had me stand in front of him, I thought he was going to read me some kind of riot act or threaten me with all manner of dire consequences if my attitude didn’t improve but no... he grabbed my wrist and pulled me forwards and then bent me over his knee.

“Daaddd.” I screamed worried about what was to happen next.

He made sure I couldn’t wriggle and commenced spanking my upturned bum. I was in shock, it was something no one had ever done to me before and I was shaking in terror. Dad’s hand kept coming down hard and I was soon bawling like a two year old.

After twenty hard slaps (I think there were twenty but could have been more) I was snivelling and crying I’d never hurt so much.

Dad helped me to my feet and stood me in front of him.

“Now then James, a ten year old over his daddy’s knee isn’t a good look and should never happen. I hope it never has to happen again because from now on, every time you are disrespectful to your mother, teacher or anyone else for that matter, no matter where we are, public or otherwise, that’s where you’ll end up. That was a taster of what you can expect if we don’t see an immediate change in your attitude. So, go and apologise to your mother then come straight back here.”

My bottom burned and although I was indignant I was more feeling sorry for myself and wanted all this to go away. However, I’d been overwhelmed by those consequences that mum had warned me about and did what dad said.

“Sorry mum.” I snivelled. “I’m really sorry I’ll, I’ll be better...”

Mum hugged me and then sent me back to bed. Dad was still waiting.

“I never want to have to do that again James but it’s up to you. We love you and we want what’s best for you but... we are not going to raise a self-centred clever dick... I hope you understand because otherwise it could get painful. OK?”

I was still sobbing but I nodded I understood.

Dad kissed me goodnight and once he was out of the room the tears just flowed for a good ten minutes as my sore bum throbbed and I couldn’t relieve the pain.

What had just happened wasn’t something I was going to share with any of my friends that’s for sure.

##

In the morning mum came in to my room at 7am to get me ready for school. I was fast asleep as she pulled back the covers and slipped her hand down the front to check. The nappy was completely soaked. She checked that there were no leaks and then let me up. I said nothing as she just smiled whilst unpinning the huge soggy mass then sent me to the bathroom.

So, as I was still wetting at night I couldn’t complain about the need for a nappy. She was already setting out a day time nappy and plastic pants, thankfully they were not the nursery print ones.

“OK Pink, I think these shiny white ones are okay for school... if anyone notices they’ll just look like normal white underpants.”

This wasn’t true. The thickness of a nappy and the slinky, slippery feel of its cover made what I was wearing anything but normal. However, they probably did look more like normal underpants than what I’d had to wear that night. This would be my second day at school and like yesterday I hoped no one would notice.

####

...to be continued

 

[Pierry Louys]

Jimmy is the lucky one rsrs maybe he gonna babysitting pink in the future rsrs 

[Sarah Penguin]

[maly]

Nice long chapter, thanks for that.

Maly.

[Les Lea]

Part 7

 

I’d had a terrible night’s sleep because I wasn’t used to sharing a bed, and, even though William seemed to take up very little space, I was still uncomfortable. It had been the early hours before I eventually did drop off. Part of the problem was I had so much going on in my head. Mainly about how I was going to escape and what the next few weeks had in store if I couldn’t return home. Also, my bum was very painful from the strap and all the crying had left me feeling pitiful and vulnerable. Unfortunately, mother had been pretty definite about me ‘changing my ways’; I just hoped she didn’t want me to become a religious zealot like this lot.

 

There was something else rattling around in my head and that was the prayer the boys had said. In William’s squeaky little voice he thanked God for the arrival of his new ‘brother’ Patrick and wished him nothing but happiness. This was echoed by both Howard and his father and it all sounded so genuine.  

Despite everything that has happened William’s prayer had got to me and I began to think when the last time I’d wished ‘happiness’ for anyone?

This thought drilled into my head and upset me more than it should. I certainly couldn’t remember doing so on any occasion in the recent past. And yet, my six year old cousin and his brother had already accepted me and wanted me to be happy like they were. I thought they had no thoughts of their own but this, this felt different, and left me uneasy with my past actions.

#

I was roused by Uncle Jason waking up his boys. Howard was already out of bed when I finally came too and saw his dad lift up his nightshirt and check his nappy. He hadn’t wet.

“Good boy another week and you’ll be back...”

He didn’t finish what he was saying as Howard hugged his father and the words were lost in the embrace.

Then it was William’s turn and he was soaked. I should have known because the aroma of pee was quite intense. I wondered how I’d slept next to him all night and not realised. Then Uncle Jason got me up and I was surprised to see my nappy sag and that I was also soaked. That aroma was partly down to me as well... shame, incomprehension and guilt filled my head.

“How did you boys sleep?”

“Very well thank you daddy.” William was surprisingly chipper seeing as how he’d just woken up.

“And you Patrick... how did you sleep?”

I was still anxious about wearing a soggy nappy and could hardly get my head around the fact I’d peed in my sleep. Both cousins were staring at me but didn’t comment, although I realised that any feelings of superiority I had over them wearing nappies had now vanished as I took in my condition. Seeing I was a little confused their father took the lead.

“Good job we had a pair of plastic pants that fit eh?” Uncle Jason said smiling and patting my soggy bulge as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

That is the thing about him he always appears the most amiable of people. He’s American so has a slight accent that gives the impression of him being in good humour. Not necessarily joking but smiling and measured in his speech that carries a very calming effect. However, get him going about this sect and he’s a nutter and unswerving in his attitude towards none believers. There is only the one path and he, his family and followers are on it... everyone else is heading to Hell.

“I’ve never wet before...” I was desperate for him not to think this was a regular occurrence.

“It’s fine Patrick we are used to diapers in this house. Your mother said you’d recently started to wet the bed...”

“That was only the once... I was...” I interrupted trying to defend myself but then changed my mind. Diapers? Ah yes, the American name for nappies. However, I couldn’t imagine why I’d woken up soaked... perhaps the enema might have had something to do with it but I could hardly ask.

“Never mind,” he dismissed any type of argument. “That’s why we have our boys, and you from now on, nicely equipped for bed. We don’t want you wondering around in the dark, bumping into things and making a noise now do we. No, once you’re in bed we expect you to stay there until either Aunty Beatrice or myself say it’s time to rise and shine and thank the Lord for keeping us all safe throughout the night.

“Amen” both boys chorused.

Uncle Jason beamed at his sons then looked at me but I was still in shock looking down at my nightwear; a shiny sagging plastic bulge. Why had I wet?

“I said... thank the Lord for keeping us safe throughout the night.”

The boys chorused with ‘Amen’ once again and I saw he was waiting for my response.

“Erm, um, errr... Amen?” The saggy wet thing between my legs was what I was worried about.

“That’s the idea Patrick, the Lord loves you so it’s only right that you should love the Lord and let him know he’s in your thoughts twenty-four hours a day, every day.”

“Amen” Two young voices chimed in.

“Yes, amen,” I added quietly whilst reminding myself of the strap this man had viciously used only a few hours earlier.

#

William and I sat in our soaked nappies whilst we had breakfast... it was some sort of porridge. The chairs were wooden, hard and quite uncomfortable also the wet fabric certainly wasn’t helping. As this was all new to me I wasn’t sure if we were being punished for wetting or if it was just normal routine. Of course grace was said before and after the meal and I was told that as the boys had school to go to, I’d be left with my aunty and she would teach me about God’s wonderful gifts to the world.

I said that I wasn’t interested in the bible I only wanted to go home. Aunty Beatrice put her hand on my shoulder and told me that according to my mother.

“‘Although we were a ‘lost cause’ there was still a chance of redemption for Patrick.’ Her exact words so that’s why you are here with us. Your parents think... quite rightly... that our way of bringing up a child to know, love and respect God, and through him their family, is the only way to be in His Good Grace.”

 

“But we’re not religious.” I answered.

“That’s a problem we aim to solve with the Bible, The Lord and this loving family.”

“I just want to go home.” I whined.

“That’s not an option at the moment. Your parents think that you and your friends are on a path that leads to drug addiction and criminality. Whilst they have no say over them they have decided to do something about you. So, until we see you accept God’s love and direction into your heart and mind, your parents don’t want you to return.”

Surely my parents aren’t that....

“It is therefore our mission,” she interrupted, “to create in you the understanding the Lord brings into this world.”

“Oh God...”

 

“It seems to me that we will need the help of another member of our family.”

I suddenly realised that she meant Mr Badger.

“Mr Badger, and his myriad of friends, have steered the young of our faith for many years. He focuses the mind and with each stroke helps drive out evil and doubt from a young person’s polluted and sinful body.”

I was speechless and terrified but now under the control of a family of religious lunatics.

#

Uncle Jason is an elder, or preacher, or something in this ‘cult’ and where they lived had its own community for support; everyone looks up to him and his perfect family.  All the neighbours seem to dress and sound exactly like my aunt and uncle... sorry... Aunty Beatrice and Uncle Jason, which makes me realise that there is no one local I can turn to for any kind of support - their weird religion is everywhere.

I watched as Uncle Jason led the two boys, now changed and wearing their perfect matching school uniforms, out the door to the car. Mother would have called them ‘adorable’ as they smiled and waved their goodbyes to their mother and ‘new brother’.

“Where are they going?”

“I’ll remind you once more of the correct way to address any adult... you start with the word Please.” She’d said this before and I’d forgotten. “You try.”

“Erm,”

“We don’t need all these erms and umms now do we?”

“No Aunty Beatrice.”

“That’s not quite right now is it Patrick, what have I just said. I think Mr Badger will be paying you a visit very soon if you can’t even get the simplest thing correct.”

“Please, Aunty Beatrice, I’m sorry.”

“There that wasn’t difficult was it?”

“Please, when might I get out of this wet nappy... please Aunty Beatrice?”

“Oh soon child, don’t worry, let’s have a look in the Bible first so we can see what you already know shall we?”

#

For the next ninety minutes there followed a long set of questions, most of which proved I knew nothing. My damp nappy was drying as I sat and itched within its creases and folds. At the end she simply said that we’d start from the very beginning and took me back upstairs to change into something dry. I had hoped it would be my own clothes but it was another nappy.

“But please Aunty Beatrice... why a nappy and why not my own clothes?”

“Firstly, I don’t approve of the clothes your mother packed so we won’t be seeing them again. Secondly, your mother informed us that you recently arrived home wearing wet pants covered in your own urine.”

“Yes, but I was drunk...” I realised I’d said too much.

She pulled a face as if to say it was as expected and she didn’t need any further proof she was doing the right thing.

The change felt weird because of two things. Last night I’d been beaten into accepting wearing one and this time I was glad to be out of the itchy thing. I was relieved to be released from the discomfort I felt around my groin. Those few seconds as it was removed and she wiped and cleaned the area was difficult but I knew not to fight her on this.

She thoroughly spread on some cream and powder making sure everywhere was covered. Again, although I was uncomfortable with the situation felt unable to complain.

My rebellion would have to wait.

Once a fresh nappy was in place she sought out another pair of clear plastic pants.

“Do I have to?” I quickly realised my mistake. “Please Aunty Beatrice can’t I wear...” But she just ignored my protests, whilst I, still being fully aware of my fairly raw bottom, re-thought any objections.

“Just so you know there will be new clothes so you blend in with how we like to present the family as a whole. So you, Howard and William will wear matching outfits.”

Oh god no. From what I’d seen already I didn’t want that... I’d look like a little kid. As if reading my mind she continued.

“As you are just learning and not yet accepted into our congregation... you will be treated like a fledgling that has yet to attain flight.” She indicated my new underwear. “We will keep you safe and protected until you can.”  

The diap... erm... nappy was thick and pinned on tightly, the plastic pants also seemed to grip tightly. I desperately wanted my own clothes but she interrupted my thoughts.

“Your Uncle Jason has already told the congregation all about you and they are all excited to be there to help.” She was beaming with pride.

“Wh, wh, why... what are they helping with?” I didn’t like this idea at all.

“He’s told them about your battle with drugs and alcohol and thieving and incontinence and has encouraged everyone, no matter what age, to pray for you and help you on the road to salvation whenever they see you.”

“But, but... please aunt...” I burst into tears.

“I know, I know. These are wonderful, caring people and each and every one of them will have your best interests at heart.”

She hugged me but didn’t know I was not crying because of their caring but the picture that had been painted of me. Why had my parents chosen such a negative and untruthful way to portray what happened? I was none of the things they accused me of... was I?

This isn’t fair... I’m never going to leave this place.

#

After the sobbing subsided she passed a pair of tiny soft cotton shorts, which must have belonged to one of my cousins but barely covered the thickness underneath. I’m considerably taller than Howard, who is the oldest, so if I’m to wear his clothes it will be a struggle. Thankfully, she passed me a jumper that fitted quite well but that was all. Then it was back to the kitchen and the hard wooden chair I’d sat on for breakfast and she opened her Bible.

I didn’t like any what had just taken place, the thick padding making me aware of its presence all the time, but, as Mr Badger was a constant presence I kept quiet for the sake of my already purple and bruised bum. I think the padding might have helped relieve some of the pain as I sat and contemplated my future.

 

There were times when my mind wandered and I wondered about a possible route of escape. Then Aunty Beatrice would bang on the table to get my attention and ask me to repeat what she’d just said. If I couldn’t then I got a whack from Mr Badger.

“Concentrate on these words,” she’d say with love as she’d stroke the Bible’s cover, “they’re the only true answer to any problem.”

So she’d fathomed what I was dreaming about but was never going to escape her devotion to the Lord and that meant I’d never evade her constant attention. I would be under her jurisdiction all day, every day. I wriggled uncomfortably in that awful, childish nappy and never regretted anything more than having that drinks party in the woods.

#

After a couple of hours of ‘study’ I was bursting for a pee.

“Please Aunty Beatrice, I need to go to the toilet.” I shuffled in my seat to show it was fairly urgent as I’d been dying to go for some time but was scared of mentioning it. Now I had no option.

“Oh Patrick you don’t have to ask... that’s why you’re wearing a diaper so you can go when you need to and continue hearing the word of the Lord.”

“But, but...”

She raised her eyebrows and I saw her hand twitch a little towards that wretched strap. I had no option at all and the fear helped fill the spongy fabric.

Although I fought it I have to say it was an absolute relief. It was difficult coming to terms that I was sitting in a nappy that I’d just knowingly saturated... and I just had to carry on as if it was normal.

An hour later and she said we could rest a little and have some lunch but first took me back to the bedroom for a change.

“Patrick you must not fight it,” She said as she pulled at the plastic pants and inspected the soaked material. “Don’t see your diaper as anything but a friend. Boys and girls wear them all the time so don’t fight it. If you need to go, go, there will always be someone around to help change a soggy little boy.”

This last bit was almost normal, understanding and spoken with a loving smile... her hand brushed hair away from my forehead. How could she be like this one second and an absolute bitch the next? Then fear engulfed me – what if she knew what I’d just thought?

She was giving me encouragement but about something I didn’t want any encouragement on. However, having been sat around in a wet nappy a couple of times now I have to say I’m grateful to wear a dry one. I didn’t want to smile but the thickness also made sitting on the hard chair a little easier and an involuntarily nervous smile made its way to my face.

“Good,” she said, “now you seem to understand a little better.”

I wasn’t sure that was the case but said nothing. What I did feel was me sliding into depression but I also knew that if I let on Mr Badger would ‘help guide me to a more positive situation’ I had to pretend to take notice.

She looked concerned. “We don’t want to be enemies but you are here for a reason... why not delight in it... there is so much to enjoy. There’s always so much love and understanding in the words of the Lord, embrace him and you cannot go wrong.”

I thought she said enemas and another cold shiver ran through my body as I considered if I’d experience that again. I’d learned from last night that being obstinate or refusing to do as I was told delivered nothing but pain, so I suppose on that level I was understanding things a bit better. However, they couldn’t stop me from free-thinking... or at least I hoped they couldn’t. I’d call them nappies and not diapers.

#

More Bible followed as did the teachings of their particular sect. Their rules and observance of the Bible didn’t make much sense to me. Whenever my mind wandered it was quickly brought back time and time again by the crack of the strap on the table or to my bare leg. I was continuously asked to repeat back what had just been said often more than once, if I got any part of it wrong I had to start all over again.

I deliberated on why they had made me wear a nappy; was it because I’d wet myself back home, last night and this was just an on-going punishment or, perhaps something to do with their religion.

“Erm, er, sorry. Please Aunty Beatrice, why do I have to wear a nappy, I’m eleven, I can go to the toilet.”

She put down the Bible and clasped her hands together as if in prayer.

“We don’t allow such questions Patrick. Adults know what’s best and are here to guide their children, spread the good word and follow the Lord’s teachings within the strictures of our church. But, at your family’s request, we are starting from scratch with you, and, as you’ve already shown us you wet yourself, understandably that’s where we are starting from.”

She smiled as if she was talking to a small child who understood nothing. I couldn’t argue about wetting at home, although there was a good reason for that but I also couldn’t deny I’d wet last night in my sleep and I was unaware I’d done so.

“A diaper will be your basic underwear both night and day for the near future. There is no doubt that you will be a little disorientated with our ways to begin with and in turn this may well lead to you having uncontrolled accidents.” She looked to make sure I was taking everything in. “A diaper is there to serve and protect, much like the good book itself.  We rely on discipline and the word of the Lord to achieve that outcome to everyone’s benefit. You should embrace this wonderful opportunity Patrick... I’m sure William and Howard will be only too pleased to help show you the way.”

My heart sank. I no longer felt like I had any control, or that I was even eleven year-old. Although these were family members and wanted my happiness it didn’t feel like it. I was starting from scratch with a weird new alien group and that was pretty unnerving. I dreaded becoming like my cousins but now knew how they ended up that way... a small child and Mr Badger that was No Contest.

Those initial words from Aunty Beatrice had been imprinted on my mind – discipline and the word of the Lord - I only had those two things to think about... so had Howard and William. No wonder they still wet themselves... Oh God... I felt an involuntary spurt myself.

Aunty Beatrice has just said it’s time to continue my cleansing... I’m petrified... and that spurt has become another flood.

##

....to be continued

 

[Sarah Penguin]

[Pierry Louys]

Poor Patrick!!

[Sarah Penguin]

32 minutes ago, Pierry Louys said:

Poor Patrick!!

Yeah being beaten daily until you comply with what even your parents refer n to as a  zealous sick cult family members is pretty obviously child abuse and so wrong.  Seen to much of that here in the south.  Used to get invited over to my mother's best friend place only when they were mad at their two sons and were waiting to yell at them about whatever they had done as soon as I got there to play and I'd have to watch whichever  it was stripped in front of me and spanked on them bare bottomed.  Stopped wanted to show up anymore there after the third time that happened.  My dad spanked me too but least he secretly didn't invite my friends over to 'play' do in front of them. 

[Pierry Louys]

Yeah I hope he can get away from them ! He doesn’t deserves this ! Anyone deserves this 

[justme1234]

I enjoy your writing, always, and I am liking this story, too.  And you are writing the ridiculously religious wing-nut correctly. So please understand that I see this as a great work, deserving of kudos, and lots of it. 

But that self-righteous, overly-religious, dogma-spewing, falsely self-confident, prissy-minded, Bible-based-morals-touting bullshit that the woman is expressing is making my chest clench and my toes curl in rage. I have known too many men and women cut from this cloth, and they reek of bile underneath the cloying, treacle-like sweetness of their Bible-poisoned thoughts and words. I could hardly finish this chapter without punching her in her holier-than-thou face (my screen).

In other words, great job

[Les Lea]

Well okilly dokilly ?

[parkintochter]

I love when they ask for the toilet and get denied ?

[Les Lea]

Part 8

Paulo (Paggs) Paganini is the youngest member of his family. He has three sisters all of whom witnessed with disgust the state their little brother returned home in after that party in the woods. At first, like their parents, they just thought he was sick but when the true extent of what had gone on became apparent, they wanted a line in the sand to be drawn that their wayward brother would not dare cross.

The disaster that saw him throwing up and then shitting his pants had led to mother putting him straight into a nappy to avoid further accidents. It was a sensible and practical way of dealing with such a messy mishap. His middle sister Maria had gone through a spell of incontinence when she was younger so all the trappings for her protection were already available for her brother. However, as more info of Paulo’s, dishonesty and dubious behaviour became apparent, there’d been a discussion to decide on a sentence for these offences.

Like the other parents of this drunken group of eleven year olds... no one was happy with what had taken place. Blame and accusations abounded but the boys themselves were unaware, to begin with at least, the disgust their alcoholic revelry had generated. Boy’s their age should be still playing out on their bikes not be stealing alcohol, staying out late and then throwing up (and worse) so such appalling actions had to be stopped. They had to make it so none of the boys ever wanted to try that again. The after-effects of this woeful experience were going to be with each boy for quite some time to come.

The most obvious solution was to keep Paulo in nappies for the rest of the day, which they did although his father had said that wearing a nappy to school was not on. However, this form of discipline seemed to be a favourite with the girls, who, as Mrs Paganini pointed out to her husband, never did anything similar as they were growing up. Therefore, the only person to blame for Paulo’s infantile failings was himself. Mr Paganini had argued his corner in defence of his son but, it was hard to defend his son messing so dramatically. This was especially true when his wife told him that he could clean up the shit if he felt so strongly. He ducked for cover. He’d found out quite early on, when the female side of the family banded together, his views became of little consequence.

#

Paulo wasn’t a bad boy, although he was getting cheeky and his self-centred behaviour was becoming more noticeable. He was a boy surrounded by women and felt he had to exert his misogynistic male dominance... or so he concluded. Paulo idolised Jimmy who was very independent in mind and spirit and wanted to be like him. He’d even joined the scouts so he could spend more time in his company. It had been Jimmy, who, having acquired some booze, had got everyone else to contribute something so they could “party, party, party” in the woods. However, this latest stunt was the final straw as far as Paulo’s mother and sisters were concerned, who all felt he needed a reminder he was still the baby of the family and couldn’t do what he wanted when he wanted. A nappy had been just the start of their thinking. 

They came up with the idea that from now until he started high school every weekend he would be treated as a girl - it would act as a reminder not to be so cocky. His father said a firm “NO” but was quickly shouted down and out-manoeuvred by this quartet of clever women. They had plenty of clothes they could use and over the weekend, whilst dressed in such a manner, the cushion of protection would feature to remind him of ‘consequences’. He’d become their little sister, who’d be shown how to be demure, thoughtful and polite, there were enough of them to make sure it happened whether anyone else wanted it to or not.

His mother thought this was a suitable punishment for the mess and attitude they had all endured. It would, she hoped, act as a very good reminder of just how disgusting what he and his friends had done and that there were severe and far-reaching penalties for such behaviour.

“Just having fun” was no justification and once told of his punishment he cried and angrily (though ineffectually) protested for the rest of Sunday. He also fell asleep and messed the precautionary nappy once more so was even further humiliated and let down by his own immature body.

The girls were enthusiastic that their ‘stinky baby brother’ should become their ‘loving little sister’ and made sure ‘she’ was kept under constant supervision. Paulo stood no chance.

#

During the week Paggs wasn’t grounded like Pink and Jimmy, and like everyone else had little idea of what Patrick would be enduring but his sisters took charge and made him suffer. The independence he thought a boy his age should have was cruelly taken away and found that Saturday mornings he’d be surrounded by the female element of the family and be dressed, despite fierce protestations, as they saw fit.

It always started with him being forced into a thick nappy and rubber pants. From there his sisters would bicker over what they thought he should wear for the day. Once ready they instructed he should act like a girl, and in return his sisters would treat him as such and no one would be any the wiser. Or, he could act like a boy, they would refer to him as a Nancy boy and then everyone would know he was just a sissy playing at being a girl. Despite his obvious unwillingness it didn’t take him long to realise that playing along being a sister was the less humiliating option.

However, the girls added another touch of embarrassment but only he’d be aware of. When out and about, which he was quite a bit of the time as the girls took great delight in parading him everywhere, he wasn’t allowed to use the girl’s or boy’s toilets so he had to use his nappy. His sisters took great delight in making sure he did and told him, if he didn’t want them to publicly check, he had to inform them when he’d done so. The rubber pants kept his secret contained but also kept his sisters amused.

Paggs was just too ashamed to tell his friends what happened on a weekend or why he was unavailable at that time to meet up.

Although, there was a little bit of ‘solidarity’ when he heard about Pink’s nappy sentence, at least his wasn’t 24/7. The news of Patrick’s removal from their little group and sent to Cheltenham (apparently with a huge tax-deductible donation to the church) made them all a little thankful they didn’t have his malicious parents and wondered if, in comparison, they’d got off lightly.  

##

I was in a right state when I got home Saturday night. I can look back now and think how stupid we all were but that’s no excuse for the trail of vomit and shitty pants I’d left as a result. To begin with mum and my sisters were all comforting and understanding, they thought I was sick. When they realised otherwise, they got extremely angry with me for being fooled. It didn’t help that whatever I’d eaten (and maybe drunk) was having a terrible effect in my gut and I crapped my pants.

I always know I’m in trouble because mum becomes determined and efficient; not that she isn’t always that way, but normally mum has an easy-going way of dealing with things. This was different. As soon as she saw the state of my jeans I was whisked away to the bathroom and she sent Maria to gather some old stuff stored at the back of the airing cupboard. Before I knew it, and I was in no fit state to complain, she had me cleaned up and wearing one of Maria’s old nappies.

My sister had a spate of wetting at night a few years ago so mum was prepared, anyhow, I was now benefiting from that damp phase. I was put to bed wearing just a nappy but I’d hardly been in it for more than a few minutes when apparently a second wave of the shits kicked in and I filled that as well.

Alana noticed and told mum so whilst I was zonked out she changed me yet again and told my sisters that from then on I was only to wear protection “the thicker the better”. I know this because Sunday morning and Gabby, the youngest of my sisters, checked and found I was soaked so it more or less reinforced what mum had in mind. I also noticed that the nappy was a lot thicker and I was wearing a pair of voluminous plastic pants so things were different from what I’d been dressed in when I went to bed. When I queried this I was informed of my second disgusting splurge.  

That news took the wind out of my sails a bit so no matter how much I protested, and even got dad on side, there was no changing mum’s direction on this. So I spent all of Sunday recovering but wearing a thick nappy, which really pissed me off. However, I still bore the aftermath of shame and a hangover, so, any protesting was done a lot quieter than I would normally argue my point.

#

I think mum maybe spoke to other mums and, as we’d all arrived home in a state and made a mess, they came to some kind of conclusion about how we should be treated. However, my sisters complained that I’d been a pain for a while now and suggested to mum that here was an ‘opportunity’ for dealing with that as well. I only found this out after I heard dad saying “...definitely not” whilst I still had school but mum told him to “...keep out of it”. I wasn’t sure then what he was commenting on but, although on my side, against mum and the girls he didn’t stand a chance.

They’d dropped hints that come the next weekend something else would happen but I just thought I’d be grounded or not allowed in the woods for a few weeks. However, the following Saturday and I was surrounded by mum and sisters who held me down, stripped my pyjamas and teased that they were going to make a ‘proper lady’ out of me.

I had a sudden worry they were going to cut off my balls and anxiety coursed through my naked body.

As a kid they’d played dress-up games and I’d be their doll. I hated it then and at my age I wasn’t about to let them do that to me again. I wriggled and protested and yelled that they’d never make me wear their panties. They simply promised not to make me wear their knickers... and giggled.

Then, out of the blue, the manhandling got more serious and before I knew it they had me pinned into another nappy before pulling up those large plastic pants, then, unceremoniously forcing me into a summery juvenile dress.

“See,” Alana said, “you’re too much of a baby to wear big girl’s panties.” The others just cackled in triumph.

I’m a boy so fought them, complaining loudly that they were trying to destroy my masculinity and it was an insult to my Italian heritage. They looked from dad, who was reading the paper, and then back to me and giggled, it was a perception they didn’t take seriously.  Nevertheless, they made it clear that it would go better for me if I didn’t fight them. I still lashed out and caught Gabby on the mouth. That was it - their nips and punches were painful and in the end, outnumbered and out-manoeuvred (Alana shoved her hand past the nappy, grabbed my balls and viciously twisted them) I just wanted it to stop so immediately gave in. I should know from experience my sisters always gave more than they got in any fight.

Dressed in some of Gabby’s childish old clothes I felt stupid, ashamed and impotent. What was worse when I looked in the mirror, the padded lump could quite easily be seen. Mum thought it was a suitable punishment and dad argued it was “a silly and dangerous thing to do” but he got out voted, if in fact they took a vote.

I was demoralised and humiliated, and now with them all ganged up against me(and my balls still stinging) I was nothing but a toy to them. It was like back being a toddler when I was constantly being dressed up... like then I had no way to defend what was happening. They were enjoying their power (and abuse of it) but there was no one I could turn to for support. Dad was useless.

#

Sandwiched in the back of the car between Alana and Gabby mum took us to the new mall that had just opened in the next town over. It was a few miles from where we lived so whether there’d be anyone I knew there I didn’t dare think. Although they were excited at this new shopping experience I cried throughout the journey, begging them to think again and promising I’d be nice and good... it fell on deaf ears. Maria warned that if I didn’t act like a nice little girl they’d make everyone aware that I was just a huge sissy getting my kicks from wearing my sister’s clothes. I couldn’t win.

Gabby shoved her hand up my dress and past the rubber pants and tweaked my privates.

“Just checking,” she smiled malevolently - no doubt getting her own back for the fat lip.

“Quit it,” I complained through teary eyes.

“Oh sweetie,” Alana continued. “We’ve only just started.”

“Muuummm.” I wanted her to intercede.

“Do as your sisters say...” she looked in the rear-view mirror directly at me. “However, I have to say you do look a darling little girl... the tears and nappy... really set off that outfit.”

I was getting no sympathy from there.

As I cried and complained in the back seat mum told me to ‘suck it up’ (I have no idea where she gets these terms from) because if I continued to protest then I’d be wearing girls clothes to school and the entire summer break. Of course this set me off worse but she wasn’t about to give in and I saw my fate was sealed if I didn’t comply.

As a group of girls we toured the mall and if I didn’t enthuse as they were over some girlie clothes or soppy something or other, I’d get a pinch or threat of a spanking in public if I didn’t play along. When they stopped to chat to a friend they introduced me as ‘Belle’ a younger cousin who was a little shy. I hated every moment but knew what was best (or least worse) in this awful situation. Taking my cues from a painful nip on the arm I squealed and screamed in delight. I despised every second.

I can’t say I was enjoying myself but I knew that if I was seen sulking then I’d be revealed for what I was – a boy dressed as a girl in a nappy and I couldn’t let that happen. My sisters took pleasure in patting my thick padding and telling me how ‘pretty’ I looked and then whisper that they knew I should have been a girl because I looked so cute dressed as I was... it felt creepy but I could do nothing. I think my insincere smile made them think I was ‘enjoying’ the experience. I wasn’t... I really, really wasn’t.

#

As they wouldn’t take me to the ladies toilets and the men’s room was out, they also made me fill my nappy and seemed to take great delight in my disgrace. I have to say a wet nappy made me think differently - I didn’t dare do or say anything in case I drew attention to myself and people would be aware of the big wet sagging thing between my legs.

On a couple of occasions I’d tried to hold it in but my bladder was having none of it and released the uncomfortable build up. It’s strange knowingly peeing yourself and I had to be grateful that the padding was thick enough to absorb all I let flow.

Mum let me know that from now until I started at the new school, every weekend would be the same and if I created... I’d be wearing a nappy and girls clothes for the entire new term. I’m sure dad wouldn’t have let that happen but so far he’d been unable to stop any of this.

When we did return home and the girls made jokes about my soaked nappy he seemed repulsed that I’d done so when dressed in such a way. I noticed he appeared less supportive, as if he thought less of me and that I deserved it. Mum said it just proved I needed to be kept well-protected so over each weekend the nappy stayed.

On a couple of mornings I’d woken up wet... I had no idea why (I suspected foul play but had no proof). Much to their collective amusement (and insistence) a fresh nappy would then be applied the following night “Just to be on the safe side”. So, although I didn’t have to wear a nappy to school, some Monday (and Tuesday) nights I’d still have to sleep in protection. If I woke up dry then I was fine until the weekend again.

There was no way I was going to tell the other guys what was happening to me but when I heard about Pink’s punishment I thought at least we had something in common. Poor Patrick, we had no idea what he was going through but as we’d all met the ‘Flanders’s’ knew he wouldn’t be enjoying his time there. Jimmy, who had set the entire thing in motion, seemed to get off lightest... although he complained about it all the time. I think the rest of us tried to pretend nothing was happening and keep our embarrassment under-wraps. Pink had no chance, his nappy and plastic pants were visible nearly all the time (we didn’t say anything) and if you went to his house that’s all he was allowed to wear. At least I could keep my embarrassment a secret.

##

I think Pink has become reliant on wearing a nappy. It’s probably just as well because his night-time wetting appears to have gotten worse. In fact, there are occasions when he wets during the day as well. He tried to keep it secret but, as I’m the one who mostly changes him it was becoming more and more obvious. He begged me not to tell our parents and as his loving big sister I told him I wouldn’t, he was very grateful, but I told them anyhow. The thing is, whereas before he’d go ballistic and scream and shout at me, now he’s more compliant and just goes off and sulks. No drama, no fireworks, just a pet-lip and probably another wet nappy... for mum, dad or me to change.

##

I think this wetting-the-bed business started when we were having some end of the year exams at school. I was worried because I don’t like tests and these were very important. Well, I think that might have been the cause but I can’t be sure. I just know I’ve been anxious for a number of months. I don’t seem to have any confidence, my friends all seem to be growing up but I feel I’m staying stagnant...  and now, with the dreams, it’s getting worse. At times I’m almost scared of my own shadow.

However, mum insisting on an early bedtime hasn’t helped, eight o’clock is too early as I’m usually wide awake and the fact that there’s little in my room to distract me is a problem. Of course it’s better than the week I had bed at seven after the granny incident but still. I’m waking up in the early hours of the morning soaked but unable to sleep or do anything but wait.

Unfortunately, the nightmare I had after that boozy night in the woods keeps haunting me. I don’t know why that is either... because I’m not drunk or suffering from a dicky tummy or anything like that. So why that heavy sense of doom and terror persists I can’t explain.

It isn’t always the same but variations on a similar theme - I’m lost or out of my depth. However, the outcome is usually the same. There’s been many early mornings when I’ve just laid there, feeling the warm wetness surround my bollocks too late to do anything about it but dreading falling asleep again in case I do something worse. On quite a few occasions I’ve found myself on the verge of, you know, shitting... but managed to hold it in, although the pee still flows.

The problem I have is that the longer I lie there thinking about those awful dreams, the more I get troubled about them. That slide into some dark abyss, or being lost somewhere, or a beast stalking me... they are all terrible and haunt my head... and so... I dream and wet. During the day it’s not so bad but I still sometimes freeze in fear over something and nothing... I know it’s all in my head but I just can’t shake it off. There have been times when, for what appear to be no reasons at all, I’ve felt a spurt and wondered why.

It’s the summer break from school and as there’s nothing else I’ve taken to quietly raiding my old toy box. I can spend a couple or so hours before anyone else gets up pushing toys around the room. I might squelch a bit but at least I’m not bored and it is sort of enjoyable in a sad, pathetic type of way. I then quickly pack everything back in the box before Penny or mum come in to change me.

The problem is the nightmares are getting horrendous - god knows but I’m grateful to sleep in the company of my old teddy. I know I’ve cried out a couple of times because I’ve woken up to see Penny standing in the doorway. I’m wetting more and... I hate to admit it, but, sometimes I’ve wet during the day. Thankfully, with mum insisting I wear a nappy all the time, I’ve been saved from too much embarrassment and as it’s turned out, the thing actually offers some security, which I wasn’t expecting.

Although I’m constantly in my protection, when out and wearing shorts few people have noticed or said anything so, I’ve been quite pleased about that. In fact, quite often I don’t realise I’m wearing anything... I suppose after all this time I’m getting used to it... or grateful for it.

#

...to be continued

[Sarah Penguin]

[maly]

Thanks for the new chapter.

Maly.

[Les Lea]

Part 9

 

Both Pink and Jimmy had early curfews and had to be ready for bed by seven with bedtime at eight. So, much to their annoyance, throughout their long summer holiday they were called in when everyone else was out having fun. Out of the lads involved Jimmy seemed to get off with the least punishment, although I was amazed to see how he was now so responsible for his little brother. They’d often come round, or Pink would go next door, and all three would play together.

 

Our neighbours were supposed to be going on vacation for the first two weeks of the long school break but Mr Armitage’s firm was involved in some sort of take-over so needed in the office. The holiday was postponed, Jimmy became frustrated but could do nothing about it and his mother threatened if he didn’t ‘snap out’ of his doldrums, she’d find something for him to really be depressed about. However, with that threat ringing in his ears (and the fact that his father had promised once it was all over and the firm had settled he’d take them all somewhere special), he soon found moping around no help at all and that it was best to keep busy in any way that presented itself. His mum was very good at finding him things to do if she saw him looking miserable or slacking in his chores.

Being grounded they weren’t allowed to go too far. The street and the garden were the boundaries but when together this trio looked so sweet. Jimmy seemed in charge, then Kevin and then Pink. Of course, Kevin wasn’t grounded and could go off and visit his mates, mostly chaperoned by his brother. However, if they were playing next door I’d often see my brother’s vinyl covered padding appear down the leg or above the waistband of his shorts, an event he occasionally shared with young Kevin. Throughout the summer days and nights my darling little brother seemed oblivious to this or, if he wasn’t, gave the impression of it not bothering him. Perhaps he’d convinced himself no one noticed or was just past caring. I also wondered, though never asked, if Jimmy ever changed his wet nappy like he has to with Kevin. I hoped so.

On that issue, Pink soaks his nappy regularly.  It’s as if he doesn’t appreciate anymore whether he’s wet or dry. Although he’s coming up to twelve, at the moment he appears of indeterminate age, which is weird. There have been a few times he’s looked vacantly at me as I’ve called him in for a change and only when I’ve pointed out how wet he is does he realise why. That’s one of the reasons we all make sure he’s slathered in Sudocrem or Vaseline when we put him in a fresh nappy, his skin needs extra waterproofing.

When all this started I thought he deserved it. He hadn’t been the nicest person and with his smelly bedwetting and the arrogant way he treated mum as his personal maid, I was only too pleased to see him wrapped up like he has been. The various creams and powders we use, thankfully, all but obliterating the smell of morning urine. However, over these last few weeks of mum laying down the law, his attitude has changed and, although I’m not sure he’d agree, nappies don’t seem to be much of a problem to contend with. I think he simply gets on with it all and as a result I’ve found I’m less annoyed and want to make his nappy changes fun.

Now he has an assortment of styles and colours I let him select which plastic pants he wants to wear. I’m not sure if mum would approve but I find it makes him smile and look content as I rustle the chosen pair up his legs. I think I also must have changed a little because these days I love seeing my baby brother smile and this little privilege seems to give him that small amount of freedom he’s not allowed any other time.  

Meanwhile, any and all trips to the woods by the boys are banned by every parent.

I gather, from conversation I heard between mum and Mrs Armitage, that the threat of further sanctions, and the desire not to have to wear a nappy any time, kept Jimmy pretty much under control. He’s become Kevin’s best friend and despite everything is very attentive to what an occasional wet four year old needs. Jimmy’s become such a mother’s little helper that she joked he’s become so proficient at nappy changing she’s thinking of hiring him out as a nanny.

Mum joked that he could babysit Pink if we ‘grown-ups’ all went out for a meal one night. At least I think she was joking, although it got me pondering on a lovely thought; Pink and Kevin having the same bed time and both being put into night time protection, and all the fuss that entails, by Nanny Jimmy. Now that would be something to see.

However, I think it’s more likely that Pink’s constant parade of washed nappies and colourful pants hanging on the line is a reminder to his best mate what can happen if he doesn’t do as he’s told.

Paggs comes round occasionally, though never at the weekend. I found out from Alana, his oldest sister, what they do to him and I have to say I’m impressed by such devotion. When he does visit he appears more considerate, polite and wary of saying anything or speaking out of turn, a complete turnaround to how the noisy, disrespectful little runt used to be.

I knew from experience that the Paganini sisters were not that demure themselves. At school they had quite a reputation of taking no messing from other girls or boys. They had opinions and weren’t above fighting their corner, so where this new and improved brother came from I wasn’t sure. The little misogynist must have had a great deal of effort applied to make him behave as he now did. I never saw him dressed as a girl but my imagination has joyfully filled in that blank spot.

#

Pink was as good as gold at the wedding. In fact, for a few weeks now we’d all noticed a change. Mum’s punishment and continued discipline had certainly modified his behaviour because now he does as he’s told instantly with absolutely no argument at all. However, he was becoming bashful when meeting new people. Luckily he knew everyone at the ceremony, although for some reason seemed to be avoiding Uncle Peter.

Granny looked gorgeous and so happy, whilst Doctor Solomon could hardly get his words out he was so overcome with emotion. Emma and I were bridesmaids, whilst Pink and Bradley looked more like brothers and both wore nappies under their suits. I have no idea what my cousin had done but I saw them both in deep conversation and surreptitiously checking each other’s padding. I imagine mum and Aunty Pam had conspired together so that Pink wouldn’t be alone but that’s just me guessing. It could be Bradley had just been naughty or perhaps aunty was simply getting in early to stop him going the way Pink did.

At one point, after the service, I saw the newly wed speaking to the two boys. Both appeared nervous and looking at their shoes. Granny made Pink fetch the nappy bag from mum and then herded them both into another room. Granny obviously didn’t like the thought of wet boys suffering for too long and set about a very embarrassing few moments for our nappy wearers. The boys emerged after ten minutes or so looking bright red but I heard them timidly thanking gran for the change. I wish I’d been in the room to witness that event.

I saw gran whisper something to mum and aunty, which had them both chuckling and checking out their sons. Meanwhile, Pink and Bradley waddled over rearranging their protection because I could see gran had gone a bit overboard with the padding and was more visible than what they’d been wearing. It was fun to watch their combined discomfort as they tried to hide their enhanced bulge for the rest of the day, neither would have dared complain about gran’s treatment.

I’d like to think it was her payback on Pink for him swearing at the party. Poor Bradley caught in the cross-fire but that’s me just assuming he was an innocent bystander. Anyhow, the boys were now dry so all-in-all, it was a wonderful day.

##

I hadn’t seen Pink and family since gran’s party and although the thought of attending the wedding wasn’t at the top of my ‘things to do’ I thought it might be nice to catch up with him again. After the garden party mum filled me in a bit more about his punishment and that he wore a nappy all the time. I felt really sorry for him because I’d only been punished that way a couple of times... but then I went and did something stupid and found myself in a similar position.

The day before school broke up I had a fight with one of the kids in my class. It was a stupid, stupid thing to do because it was over a game; we weren’t even being taught anything at the time. However, our quarrel got out of hand, I saw red and lashed out. When the teacher tried to intervene I called her a word much worse than the one Pink had said to granny and when I got home I was in for it.

Mum and dad were both waiting and fuming.

I already knew what was coming because I’d learned from dad about the way his mum punished him... and I’d been warned that if I stepped out of line he and mum would treat me the same way. As I said, up until then I’d only rarely worn a nappy as punishment but knew things were going to change. The teacher had told them that I’d behaved worse than a “...screaming toddler having a temper tantrum”.

I’d never seen mum’s face contorted in such rage but I was about to find out about consequences.

“Miss Robins said you behaved like an out of control toddler... so young man... guess what? That’s just how you’re going to be treated. Perhaps you should look to Emma to see how a big girl conducts herself.”

I know I’ve got a bit of a temper and I easily get angry so I was furious at my teacher and my parents for their attitude. I stomped and banged doors, screamed and cried and I was so worked up made myself sick... it just made things worse.

It seemed a bloody stupid punishment but no matter what I said or did mum was definite that granny’s method was a really good way of dealing with unruly ‘little boys’ like me. If nothing else it was a reminder of what I’d said to Miss Robins. Being kept in nappies made me resentful of my five year old sister, so I was angry with her all the time as well, which didn’t help my case one bit.

#

When mum tried to put me in that first nappy for this offence I wasn’t in the least bit helpful and caused her no end of problems. Of course, I thought I was getting my own way when she stopped and grabbed my hand but quickly realised otherwise as she dragged me downstairs naked and thrust me into the street.

“You can spend the rest of the time naked as the day you were born as far as I’m concerned but if you come back in this house, you’ll wear what I say... it’s up to you.”

Although I was furious I was also aware of neighbourhood eyes on me and just a quick surreptitious look showed there were giggles and pointing from some who had heard the racket I was making. I begged mum to let me back in and I was crying in shame but she wanted my word that I would do as I was told. I just cried and begged but the door didn’t open for ten minute (which felt like hours) before I gave in and promised.

“If you give me any further trouble... you’ll be going everywhere naked and I don’t care what you school mates and friends say. Do I make myself clear?”

“Mum, please (sob)... please let me in... (sob) I promise.” I begged. This was too much embarrassment, I’d crossed a line way too far so it finally sunk in... I wasn’t going to get my own way.

Cowed, I went in and mum wasted no time in making sure I was tightly bound in a swathe of terry cotton. I cried all the way through the procedure but hoped this would be a short term thing. I thought I looked more ridiculous than I’d ever done before because of the thickness of the fabric but in the past it had only been for a day or so. I wasn’t to know that my behaviour had made it a more permanent arrangement.

#

 

I despised the constant padding and that a babyish rustle followed me everywhere I went. I know I shouldn’t have called the teacher what I had but this was way too much for such a little word. Anyway, mum and dad didn’t agree with my assessment so night and day I was wrapped in large fabric nappies that didn’t let me forget that tiny word.

“I’m going to make sure you never forget the repercussions for using that little four letter word.”

My protests and apologies fell on deaf ears as she slipped up a pair of plastic pants to cover the fabric and informed me that I was banned from going to the bathroom and I had to use the nappy. Although I’d had to do this before, for some reason, whether I had an instinct this time was different, it seemed a much greater punishment. I cried myself to sleep but, when I woke up dry mum wouldn’t let me change out of it until I’d soaked it good and proper.

She watched as I wet and messed in it and then left for about half an hour before she’d change me. By then I was really regretting what I’d said and begging for her to change what was going on. I even suggested a spanking but she just smiled and said I’d get used to it.

“That’s what a naughty baby gets when he swears and has a temper tantrum. Get used to it because a nappy is going to be with you for quite some time.”

Mum also wouldn’t let me stay at home on my own, so I was with her and Emma when she went anywhere. I tried to hide the padding but mum would slap my hand away if I was fiddling and trying to rearrange it because it had rode up or something.

“Leave it,” was her firm warning.

If I didn’t she’d explain to whoever was around that she couldn’t stay long as she had a wet little boy to change. They always looked at Emma first but then realising their mistake focused to her eleven year old brother who had turned crimson and was sulking.

“He’s always messing around with his nappy.” She’d leave that babyish nugget hanging, then turn back to me. “So, what have I just told you?”

“To leave it,” I’d reluctantly reply almost in tears.

“So, what are you going to do?”

The anger and resentment would be building up and mum knew it, she was waiting for me to explode and swear and I knew that if I did... a nappy would be the least of my worries.

“Sorry.” I’d whisper apologetically.

It took a couple of weeks, and a host of nappies, for it to sink in that I was not going to get out of any of this until I reformed.

Whenever I did act up, mum would simply tell me she would change me in public if that’s what I wanted. That was my only opportunity to back down and apologise as quickly and as fervently as I could. Mum seemed satisfied once I was towing the line.

For the first two weeks I begged every morning as I was let out of one wet nappy only to be swaddled in another dry one for the ordeal to end. Neither of my parents looked like they were going to let me have my way and seemed determined to make sure I knew what I’d done.

The nappy appeared to get bulkier the more I complained and going out, wearing shorts and thick padding only made for further embarrassment if I started to fidget. I did overhear them talking about the fact that my cousin was still wearing a nappy and he’d had his for longer than I had. I dreaded having to wear one for that length of time so stopped much of my irritation.

Surprisingly, and much to my relief, although the nappy stayed, it wasn’t as thick or as obvious, though the plastic pants did seem to get noisier and more robust.

However, mum said the wedding was going to be a test and if I so much as spoke out of turn I’d be in nappies until I left home. I was also hoping that this would be the end of all this hassle so, eager to get on her good side I promised to be on my best behaviour.

“You’d better.” Was her unsympathetic reply as she forcefully wrapped me in sturdy terry cloth, pinned me in and shuffled a pair of crinkly see-thru plastic pants up my legs.

I was worried she was going to make me wear one of my old suits of jacket and shorts for the occasion but she let me wear the new one which had long trousers. Of course, no matter what I’d have worn the protection would still be there... and I hate these bloody things. How anyone, even babies, can put up with thick nappies and plastic pants I have no idea - they’re hot, uncomfortable and obscene.

#

I was glad to see Pink and hoped, as we appeared to be in the same boat that we could at least laugh about it. Alas, I thought his entire demeanour had changed. There was no life or fight about him like before and the fun element and slight defiance had all but disappeared. It was like he’d just given in. However, he did seem interested in the fact I was back wearing so we checked each other’s padding and I was surprised to see him wearing very childish cartoony plastic pants. I thought proudly that at least my mum kept to something ‘adult’.

I asked if he found it embarrassing when his mum changed him, did he have trouble, you know, keeping his body in check. He said he got over that problem fairly quickly, especially as the entire family was involved in his changes.

“Bloody hell, you mean... Penny changes your messy nappy?” I asked in disbelief.

He shrugged.

“Mum and her do it mostly, although dad... you know?”

I thought I had it hard with mum seeing me naked but Pink...

The wedding wasn’t too long but I still found it all pretty boring and I hate wearing a suit at the best of times, thankfully the trousers almost hid the bulk of the sweaty padding. Unlike gran’s garden party, when eventually there were over fifty friends and family all milling around, there were only about twenty or so of us present. I’d been told that after the ceremony we’d be going for a celebratory meal at a nearby hotel and my behaviour had to be “exemplary”.

From the ceremony we trooped the few hundred yards to the dining suit where a special private room had been arranged. It looked like the venue had made an effort with big bunches of flowers and gold and white balloons making the place look pretty festive. The food was ok but it was a sit down meal so you had to wait to be served - not as much fun as granny’s barbecue. Also there were such huge gaps between the different courses it seemed to take forever.

Whilst the grown-ups were all smiles and drinking wine Penny was keeping Emma and the other kids occupied with photographs and chasing some balloons that had come free. I asked Pink if he was wet because I’d had a secret pee whilst waiting for the main course. That was over half an hour ago and was getting a little uncomfortable. As we were chatting in the corner away from prying ears I suddenly realised Pink was quietly relieving himself.

Anyway, un-noticed by us granny came over and asked if we needed changing. We were like a couple of deer caught in headlights.

“I can check if you like.” She smiled.

Taken by surprise, and with the prospect of gran pulling down our pants for inspection, made us both admit we were wet. She sent Pink to get a large bag from his mum and then steered us down the hall to a small empty room off from the main area.

#

“Oh, er, gran,” Pink started to stumble over his words, “you don’t have to do it mum or Penny usually...”

I could tell he was as stunned as I was that gran was actually going to change us. No matter what arrangements Pink had... only mum had changed my wet nappies and even then I was filled with embarrassment when she did. The fact of gran, my granny, seeing me naked and wearing such babyish protection needed somehow to be avoided. I’m sure Pink was thinking the same.

We were both struck with wondering what to do to get out of this sticky situation but running away wasn’t an option... though I’m sure we’d both thought of it... I certainly had.

“Nonsense boys,” she smiled, “it’s not like I’ve never done it before.” Her grin widened, “Besides, it will only take a moment and then you two can be back playing with your little friends... eh?”

At the meal the ‘kids’ had a table of their own with Penny supervising. Pink was next oldest, then me and then the other five were under six so hardly the type of friends we’d play with but gran seemed to lump us all together.

We stood and looked terrified at each other as she opened the nappy bag and lay out a changing mat on top of a nearby table then motioned Pink to hop up.

“Really granny I can wait.”

“Don’t be silly sweetheart. I’m not going to see my favourite grandchildren standing around in wet clothes...” she beamed. “That just wouldn’t be nice... and not on this special day.”

The words ‘special day’ of course more or less meant that there was no chance of an argument. Gran had decided what needed doing so there was no point in putting off the inevitable.

Pink had one final attempt to dodge what was going to be a very humiliating situation.

“But gran, we don’t want you to get all...erm... dirty or ...”

I joined in. “Yes we’ll keep until later gran... er... we don’t want you to get your lovely dress all messy.”

“Bradley, you’re very thoughtful dear... and I thank you both for that but it’s really no trouble. You boys need a change and as someone has to do it... it might as well be me... I’m here now after all.”

She said all this as she pulled off Pink’s shoes, yanked down his trousers and began to remove his plastic pants all the while humming a cheery little ditty.

She smiled across at me and then looked down on Pink. “I used to do this all the time when you were babies and I’m sure it’s no different now. A wet nappy is a wet nappy after all... and best to get it changed as soon as possible.”

That reference to babies shut me up and Pink had gone quite mute as she unpinned his warm soaked nappy and cheerfully commented on just how wet he was.

“Oh sweetie... that’s a very soaked nappy... I’ll have to make sure you’re better protected and then you can last a bit longer between changes. That would be good wouldn’t it... eh?”

I stood mesmerised as I’d never seen another boy my age wearing a nappy. I mean, I’d seen Pink of course but now, close up and him being stripped... I was shocked at what was happening.

It didn’t seem in the least bit undignified to gran as she shoved the offending soaked item to one side and produced a small towel from the nearby bag.

She wiped and patted him dry around the crotch. Even when his lower half was naked I couldn’t take my eyes off his little cock and balls. I mean, he wasn’t little, well I don’t think so, I mean, they were about the same as mine but mine sometimes grows. I suppose Pink’s does too... only not with granny cleaning up that area. I was embarrassed but it was as if I was hypnotised. I stood there staring.

#

Granny was very efficient and had Pink wiped, cleaned, creamed and powdered in minutes. She then pulled out a couple of nappies and folded them together and inserted a couple of soaker pads and had him shuffle around to get them centralised before pushing his legs in the air and feeding the thick fabric between his legs. She straightened the material to make sure it had no undue creases before tightly pinning the entire bulk together.

The big blue pins took some working through the material but his expression throughout was one of no concern, which worried me.

It looked strange, his top half of shirt and tie was grown up, yet his lower half was so childish. I was hopeful I wouldn’t look like that... but who was I kidding?

She ripped open a new pack of plastic pants which were huge and had a similar blue childish pattern as his others.

“Oh sweetie, these are lovely aren’t they... all these cute teddy bears...”

She was part talking to Pink but mainly to herself as flapped them out and then shuffled them up to contain the hefty bulk that now surrounded him.

“There sweetheart, all done and you should be nice and dry for the rest of the day.” She smoothed out the plastic over the thick material underneath as a final check and then announced. “Okay Bradley... your turn.”

As Pink climbed down I saw him cautiously waddle over to collect his trousers, the shiny blue vinyl material making his bum look enormous and even more juvenile.

There was no way around it. Gran was going to do it and I’d simply have to suffer the indignity. I sighed to myself and took a deep breath before hopping up onto the warm plastic pad Pink had just vacated.

“Those plastic pants look lovely on you sweetie.” She said to Pink.

I disagreed because at least mine were not babyish. Was it strange that I felt more adult than Pink because of the difference in our plastic pants?

He turned and stood there with a sort of half smile, half grimace on his face. Obviously the idea of commenting one way or the other was not an option so turned to pick up his trousers.

Meanwhile, gran pulled down my trousers and plastic pants and commented on the fact that I shouldn’t stay in a wet nappy for too long as I’d get a rash. She then undid my shoes and, as she’d done with Pink, pulled everything completely off apart from my wet nappy.

“You boys and your nappies...” she appeared to be wistfully commenting to herself rather than to the humiliated boy lying out in front of her with no pants on. She inspected to see if I was getting a rash but I don’t think I was. Mum had been scrupulous in maintaining that area.

“Good to see your mothers are keeping their little boy’s bits and pieces hair-free and clean... it makes this so much easier.”

I could feel my entire body blazing with shame as I mentioned that mum had my stuff... but gran just shushed me and said I wasn’t to worry as she was sure nobody would mind if I borrowed some of Pink’s things.

To distract what was happening I looked over to Pink who was struggling to get his pants to fasten over the bulge. He’d managed it but only just and there was no denying what he was wearing under the thin material.

#

Gran followed the same procedure as before, tons of lotion and powder but when she pulled out the second nappy I said I normally only wore one.

I couldn’t believe I’d so easily fallen into that frame of mind ‘usually I only wear one’... I shouldn’t be accepting it I should be fighting it but... I couldn’t say anything to gran if I didn’t want things to get worse.

She smiled her all-encompassing loving smile and said that as this was a special occasion and, as I didn’t know when next I’d get a chance to be changed, it was best to take sensible precautions.

“Besides darling, you two are just too cute together - like peas in a pod.”

I didn’t dare say anything, not that I could have but I wanted to plead for something less bulky. Soon I was wearing exactly the same as Pink, even those stupidly childish cartoon plastic pants, which were enormous. I could have died of shame as, with equal difficulty, I buttoned up my trousers.

“There boys, all nice and padded... I bet you both feel a lot more comfortable now don’t you... eh?” She said with a satisfied look on her face as we both nodded shyly. “Let’s get back as I’m sure there’s some cake to be had.” Again she beamed her encouragement as if we should be more worried about missing some cake than what we were wearing.

I assumed we looked ridiculous but daren’t say anything so, as gran was packing stuff away, just whispered to Pink that I’d never worn anything so huge before. However, he said he was used to it and mumbled something about it being like he wore for bed. ‘Poor bugger’ I thought but now I was in the same boat and there was no hiding it.

She opened the door and led us back out into the festivities which had continued oblivious to what we’d just gone through.

“Now boys, I’m sure your parents have taught you some manners so... what do you say to someone who has just taken the trouble to change your very soggy underwear?”

Neither of us dare look around, we hoped no one noticed are bulging pants but gran was right... we hadn’t said anything and if that got back to our parents about bad manners we’d be in serious trouble.

“Thank you granny.” We mumbled in unison well aware of our expanded pants.

#

When mum changes me she doesn’t mess about. It’s chore that she wants to get over with as soon as possible but, as it is her that’s put me in protection in the first place, she makes sure I’m aware that it’s a punishment. The nappy gran had just removed was fabric, which because Pink wears fabric is the reason I now wear that style... our mums are always on the phone to each other. I’m sure that’s one of the reasons I’m now wearing a nappy.

I have to say, if I have to wear a nappy I’d prefer a disposable but because of the length of this punishment mum says it would be too expensive so... she bought fabric like aunty had for Pink. I wasn’t happy about this turn of events but Pink didn’t seem to mind, it was as if he was used to having no say in such things... mind you, these days nor had I. 

“That’s my pleasure sweethearts. Now go off and play I think Penny has some games over in that corner.” Granny said pointing to a cluster of kids and patted our well-padded bottoms to indicate we should move.

As we ambled over to Penny I thought I heard her murmur to herself something about ‘naughty boys make such sweet babies’ but I could be wrong.

Flooded with anger and shame, guilt and horror... there was nothing we could do.

Neither of us was comfortable and it was awkward as we waddled over to join in a game Penny had got the kids involved in. I noticed she was smirking and the younger kids just looked at us gobsmacked. The game was forgotten and we became the centre of attention from this little group who all seemed fascinated by the padding. They poked and prodded and asked to see what we had ‘down there’ whilst Penny seemed amused at our discomfort. On any other occasion I would have been angry at these kids but one look at the sly smile Emma had on her face reminded me of my promise to mum. I couldn’t risk doing or saying anything.

##

The other evening, when Pink was already in bed, mum actually confessed privately to me that she wished she’d come up with a different punishment than her nappy regime for him. It may have worked on Uncle Peter all those years back but now... it was too exhausting. Oddly, Pink’s reliance on nappies seemed to have crept up almost un-noticed by her, she’d been so intent on making sure he was well punished that important fact eluded her.

I said that over the past eight weeks or so I’d enjoyed playing the part of the concerned older sister but had been as surprised at just how much he needed to wear protection every night. She blamed it on the fact of going overboard making him feel like a toddler; insisting he was a baby, and generally forbidding him to act his age. The result - she now had an incontinent eleven year-old son. The daily washing line now contained many more nappies and dinky plastic pants than ever so she was feeling a little uncomfortable about it.

I tried to tell her she wasn’t to blame and to remember he’d been wetting the bed before those fateful shenanigans in the wood. I also pointed out that early on, once Pink came to understand that his complaints were ignored and had no say in anything, he seemed far more placid, especially when getting a nappy change. She’d turned his conduct around so should be proud not troubled. I could see mum was somewhat relieved by my support and hugged me in thanks.

Don’t get me wrong, we don’t treat him as a baby anymore and I don’t believe he’s regressed it’s just... well... he uses his nappy regularly. Even when mum stopped the punishment and gave him his underpants back it was a disaster. The poor lad was leaking everywhere and had stained pants in the most inappropriate places. She immediately saw her saturated mistake so it was a straight return to thick protection.

I’m not sure if Pink was grateful for their reappearance or not but we certainly saw less tears when he wet. However, we’re now trying to train him to use the bathroom and change himself. Although he hasn’t said anything, he does seem more than a little reluctant to get the job done right.  Oh yes, and something else that’s happened... he now sleeps with a teddy and plays with his old toys. Don’t ask me why, he just does. Perhaps he has regressed.

Personally, I never minded seeing him sneak around the house only wearing thick padding and colourful vinyl covers because they made him look quite endearing. It’s probably hard being an arrogant, self-centred, know-it-all when you have to rely on someone else to change your waterlogged, droopy nappy. Perversely, I still like having this version of my little brother and maybe mum does too.   

The reason I say that is because even in her recent bout of guilt she mentioned there was “one joyous thing to all this”. Bashfully she admitted to delight in seeing Pink innocently wearing his little cartoon plastic pants last thing at night and stretched by his soaked nappy first thing in the morning. Although they’d been bought initially to embarrass and hammer home his childish situation, now, she was of the opinion they seemed to work for him. There was no resentment, no words of anger, indeed, no attitude at all except the look of a lad wearing a wet nappy.

That was something else that has become abundantly obvious. As a result of this unusual punishment I’d noticed that neither mum nor dad have raised their voice even a little to get Pink to do as they ask.  I also think, as  time has gone on, mum has fallen back in love with her newly compliant son, who was getting to be hard work. They seem to get on better now than they’ve done for ages... the upshot is the atmosphere in the house being far more chilled for everyone.

#

For the last few days Pink’s been going through nappies like a new born. He has no control and I feel I’ve spent the best part of the each day cleaning him up, and getting him into something nice and fresh. I know he appreciates it because he now thanks me with a kiss on the cheek, which was something he used to rather die than do. However, that nervous stream of pee might cause problems once he’s back in lessons.

The first day of high school is rapidly approaching and because of how much Pink now uses nappies mum didn’t trust him not to wet his pants so bought some loose long trousers to hide the protective bulge. However, they didn’t work as it was still quite noticeable. She then bought him a onesie to fasten between his legs to hold everything firmly in so nothing sagged. It helped a bit but was still obvious. She finally settled back on those well-made and robust grey shorts combined with the onesie and that seemed to hide things the best - I wonder if that’s what’s causing him to mess more... anxiety about the new school?   

That first day of term is going to be a big step. Although senior school is large, with over fifteen hundred students, I suspect not only will Pink be the one still in shorts but also the solitary student wearing thick protection underneath. He’ll be in the youngest group, which unfortunately makes him more vulnerable. Although he’ll be joined by Jimmy and Paggs, from my own experience, though not at this school, he’s likely to find being different difficult even with such a big influx of new pupils.

The change from junior to senior school is quite dramatic. There are new pressures and expectations at all levels, which can be difficult to negotiate and take time. These days Pink is a much gentler soul and my prediction, because of his new surroundings, he’ll be relying on protection even more in those first few months. However, we are hopeful that by mixing with other kids and the new environment in general might help in him regain some daytime control at least.

#

Nevertheless, when it comes to the new term one of their number will be missing. Patrick, we eventually found out from his proud parents, has seriously discovered religion with his Cheltenham family and subsequently been enrolled in the sect’s own devout school.

They briefly extolled the principals and positives about the ‘private’ education he was now receiving “...away from horrible, common children”. So, whilst his parents seem relieved they no longer have to mix with neighbours they obviously saw as both intellectually and financially inferior, he has yet to be in touch with any of his friends.

I know the boys all missed him but his parents had steadfastly refused to give anyone any contact information.

“We don’t want his recovery and education jeopardised by the immorality that influenced him in the first place. So, no, you cannot have an address to write to him.”

 

Paggs was the last person to speak to him and that was over two months ago. I looked up on Google where the sect had its schools and there were four; two in the United States, one in Holland and the other on an island near the Hebrides in Scotland. We had no idea which one he was attending but hoped he’d be allowed to come and see us when on school holidays.

#

I suppose as Pink’s sister, because of my objections to his smelly room, I’d started him having to wear a nappy but it was mum that took up the battle of keeping him in one. It only struck me recently that granny’s way with Uncle Peter, and probably mum, having nappy discipline must have always been lodged somewhere in her mind. Why she’d never thought of using it until that night I don’t know, maybe she had but the memories had stopped her pursuing it.

Maybe it was that once she saw Pink wearing a nappy that the whole situation (and anger at what he and his friends had done) came to a head and made it a natural form of justice. However, once she got it into her head, I suspect my poor brother hadn’t known how to react and became quite overwhelmed by the zeal she pursued what followed.

Up until that moment it was bizarre how calm mum had been about his bedwetting and even more bizarre how intense was her punishment. Why she and dad let it go on for so long is also a little confusing but I suppose once she’d laid down the timescale she didn’t want to be seen as wishy-washy. She certainly wasn’t that but I do wonder what that sudden compulsion was influenced by... it can’t have been my rant surely?   

#

It’s been a strange few weeks since that ill-fated party in the woods. I don’t think any of the boys had any concept of how their eleven year-old lives would change as a result of mixing alcohol and eating out of date burgers. That messy weekend has led to an outcome I’m sure none of them would have wanted, but that’s how things have gone so only have themselves to blame.

Well, except maybe Patrick who, as far as we know and wherever he is, having found his vocation in Cheltenham, might actually be enjoying the life he’s chosen.

#########################

[Pierry Louys]

Great ending !!

[Sarah Penguin]

[maly]

Brilliant ! Thanks for the story.

Maly.