An Old Problem 1-24

[Les Lea]

An Old Problem

 

The noise of the rain beating against my bedroom window woke me up. It was coming down in torrents and, as I looked at the blue display on the clock, which read 2.13 I thought, as I normally sleep with the window slightly open, it might be wise to close it.

 

My room looks out over the back garden and off into the countryside. Well, it isn’t all countryside; there is a local road that runs along the back and then a sort of T-junction that goes off in another direction. However, it’s very dark and only the occasional beam from our rear motion sensor security light illuminates a few nearby trees. However, the bulb had recently blown so everywhere was completely black and though I knew there were some nearby trees beyond our fence, I couldn’t make them out.

I closed the window but was mesmerised by wave after wave of rain that beat heavily against the glass. I stood there for a few minutes completely hypnotised by the rhythm of the falling rain. Then the song entered into my head and I couldn’t move as I watched deep into the pitch black; the reflective blue of my bedside clock occasionally being caught in the raindrops as they streamed down the pane. It was quite compulsive.

In the distance I could see sporadic flashes and wondered if the storm was coming or going. The weather forecast had promised a period of sudden summer storms but they’d be quite erratic and some places would escape completely. I could hear a distant rumbling but it was mostly masked by the sound of rain incessantly beating against the window. However, it was a severe summer storm and standing there, wearing just the shiny green Adidas shorts I’d adopted as my favourite form of sleepwear, I started counting the seconds between the flashes and distant rumblings of thunder the way I had as a child.

I don’t know why I simply hadn’t returned to bed but, five minutes later I was still looking, head pressed against the rain-streaked glass and noticed the lightning and thunder getting closer together.

Over the years thunder and lightning had proved a daunting problem for me but, as I was tracking this one I thought I wouldn’t be scared as easily as I had been when suddenly in the middle of all that noisy rumbling.

However, a sudden bright flash lit up the garden and nearby wooded area as I witnessed a strike about eight hundred yards away where a tree burst into flame. I instinctively flinched and ducked down below the window ledge as the instant roar around the house rumbled on for ages.

Although stunned I returned to the window to see the fractured tree still ablaze but the rain trying to dampen the flames. Moments later and something else caught my attention there was liquid pooling at my feet. I’d let lose a stream of uncontrollable piss. My shorts clung to my thighs and hips as the flow of urine continued; the nylon fabric being no use at all in absorbing much of it.

Not only was I pissing myself but I was actually shaking where I stood. It may seem strange that an eighteen year-old should be scared of a storm. However, this incident brought back unwanted memories of other times.

#

I glanced at the clock which now read 3.12. Astonishingly, I’d been standing at the window transfixed for an hour, thankfully only paddling in my own piss for a minute or so since that terrifying strike. The pool on the hardwood floor was clearly visible whilst my shorts adhered to my skin and felt very uncomfortable. A couple more flashes and distant rumbles told me the storm was in retreat but thought it better to clean up the mess before returning to bed.

Not wishing to cause any further commotion I tiptoed to the bathroom, picking up a couple of cloths to clean up the puddle. I turned on the main bedroom light to make sure I got the lot and was surprised at the amount but relieved it hadn’t flowed to the edge of the rug. I mopped it up and caught a glimpse of myself on my hands and knees in the mirror. Even though my shorts still had the sheen of Adidas’s shiny nylon, they glowed even further with the addition of liquid. They may have been my favourites but felt awfully clammy to wear.

The hand-cloths gradually soaked up my shame and within a few short minutes I was back in the bathroom and rinsing out my stained shorts. As I said those old shiny nylon Adidas were my favourite. I’d had them ages and loved the fact not only did they still fit but felt wonderful to sleep in, although not at that moment.  

I have a quite a few pairs of shorts because I prefer to wear them when I’m home. Ever since school days and made the move to long trousers, I’ve always changed the moment I got home and do the same now when I get back from work. I’m always at my happiest wearing shorts. I’d like to think it was because I was athletic... but it’s not really.

Anyway, I cleaned myself up and returned to the bedroom, fished out a pair of white cotton PE shorts for the rest of the night and settled back under the sheets. Despite the rain it was still a relatively warm summer’s night so had no need for extra cover. I was however, surprised to notice I was still shaking; my stomach was knotted and in general felt more than a little nervy.  

Though the hypnotic rain beating against the window wasn’t letting up I turned on my side to try and exclude the storm from my brain.

#

I closed my eyes and immediately my mind went back to when I was three years old and mum and dad had taken me to France on my first camping trip. This was before my sister Jenny was born so there was only the three of us but, on the last night, a terrific storm had torn down the valley where we were staying. The thunder crashes seemed even worse as they echoed and rumbled for ages against the mountain sides. I was terrified and even being clutched close to mum and her soothing words didn’t help relieve the fear. I wet and messed myself as a result.  

Being three I’d just stopped wearing nappies during the day and my parents were experimenting with me just wearing pyjamas at night. That immediately stopped after this night, and, as it turned out, just as well because from then until I started in kindergarten, I often woke up soaked. I’m not sure if they made a link that it was because I was traumatised by the noise or not. However, from then on I seemed to be able to saturate my night time protection with or without the help of a raging thunderstorm.

Much to mum and dad’s relief I eventually grew out of it but when I was seven, we went camping once more up into the Yorkshire Dales. The weather had been surprisingly warm, calm and a little muggy all day and that night, in our new two bedroom tent (we were separated by the open kitchen area) me and my three year-old sister had a room to ourselves I was woken up by another fierce roar of thunder crashing around us.

It didn’t seem to worry Jenny who slept through it but I was seven, a boy and couldn’t let mum and dad in the partition across the way know I was still scared of a bit of thunder. However, the noise got more intense and lasted for about fifteen loud and, to me at least, terrifying minutes. Only at the end of which I realised I was crying; I’d messed both my pyjamas and sleeping bag completely. I lay in my shitty stew sobbing and half dozing until morning.  

I couldn’t pretend I hadn’t done what I’d done but of course we all thought it was a one off. Alas, for the rest of the holiday, every morning I woke to a soaked sleeping bag and, even when we returned home, I woke up to a sodden bed. Mum solution was that I joined my sister and immediately put me back into nappies. This was just as well because for the next few months I needed them at least a couple of times a week.

How I could have been so traumatised by it all I wasn’t sure but did notice that back then, even a noisy truck rumbling down the road produced the odd spurt, which I did my best to disguise. Mum never said anything but I suspect that, as she washed my underpants, was well aware of the yellow stains they rarely escaped.

Now at eighteen, I would have hoped to have outgrown my anxiety of thunder and lightning but that puddle had been a definite clue I hadn’t. However, what undeniably made me realise I was still like a scared little boy was the fact that in the morning I was transported back to my youth having woken up to sodden shorts and soaked sheets.

It had been a while since this last happened - wet shorts and even wetter sheets were not a good way to start the day. However, whilst in the middle of stripping the bed mum came in to get me up for work.

“Oh, I wondered if the storm kept you awake.”

In resignation I sighed. “It did more than wake me up.”

“Your old problem?”

I nodded and shrugged which was a bit non-committal.

“I see... look... leave all that to me, you go and get yourself ready for work and tonight... we might have to see about precautions.”

#

Not every thunder storm produced that result because over the years there had been plenty and I’d not been too affected, well not as much for folk to notice...a little spurt maybe. It helped if it was distant and during daylight, or I was in a crowd, or at least immersed in something keeping me occupied. Unfortunately, being in my room alone left me more susceptible than I realised.

Unenthusiastically I nodded in agreement with mum’s assessment but noticed in the shower I was still shaking and that perturbed me a great deal. Maybe, seeing that tree burst into flame was something both incredible but scary. In retrospect I think that affected me more than I realised.

Although it’d been quite some time since my last wet disaster I knew precisely what those ‘precautions’ mum suggested would be. I know that at my age I should have cringed at the thought but in truth I agree it’s a sensible way to go... well at least until I’m over the shock. Especially as the weather forecast indicated that the meteorological oddity hanging over our particular part of the country might produce more storms.

I wasn’t happy about this. In fact it sent a chill whenever I thought about it but, hopefully, now I was an adult this would pass a lot quicker than it had done when I was younger. In fact, because I was now an adult I didn’t even think about any further protection as I got dressed... I simply assumed my puddle moment was all about last night and not about the day.

Getting dressed I looked out of the window at the splintered tree and even though the sun was up and no clouds dulled the blueness, I was feeling a little shattered though determined not to dwell on such an eventful night.

#

I was naïve. Even though I tried I was a fool to think I could ignore what’d happened.

I couldn’t get much work done as I worried about how the night’s weather had affected me and the trembling seemed to get worse as the day progressed. Lack of sleep made my body clock out of sync and I was feeling quite agitated, which was silly really as, at that point in the day, there was no thunder around.

My job, which I’d had since leaving school at sixteen, isn’t hard because I’m sat at a desk behind a computer most of the day. It’s a very friendly office and there’s plenty of standing around chatting. As long as we get the job done, and on time, the office manager Mrs Dewhurst is pretty easy going. Alas, just after 14.30 I was still so jittery I pissed my pants.

Quite unexpectedly, and without the aid of thunder or even a passing truck, I felt a warmness where there shouldn’t have been any and saw the front of my beige chinos begin to turn dark. I could feel my briefs clinging to my crotch and decided I couldn’t sit around in wet pants for the rest of the day. I leapt from my chair, grabbed a folder and headed to the unisex washroom, which was thankfully empty. I turned on a tap and splashed water trying to disguise what had happened.

I took off my chinos and held them under the powerful hand drier. However, my shirt, which was hardly long enough to hide my wet briefs, was useless at hiding my embarrassment. If anyone came in I would timidly explain that I’d splashed whilst washing my hands.

My chinos were taking too long to dry and I wished I’d thought about this a bit longer because I stood there in my soaked tighty-whities feeling stupid. A couple of people came in and I explained I’d turned the tap on too high and it splashed up and soaked my pants. There were plenty of smiles and I think my excuse was bought. Thankfully they didn’t inspect my underwear.

As I’m the youngest in the office, and perhaps just a tad smaller than average in height, I’m sure they thought it typical of a daft kid who hadn’t worked out the complexities of turning on a tap and the force of water. I obviously had a lot of the basics still to learn.

There are twenty of us working in the open plan area, only the supervisor has her own office. Since I started they have called me the office baby, which I suppose age and size-wise I am.  Don’t get me wrong, they aren’t vindictive or nasty or anything and I really don’t mind. It’s not like it’s something they’re always teasing me about. On the contrary it’s a friendly place to work and I get on well with everyone. The older ladies especially want to mother me.

Anyway, twenty minutes later and my chinos were dry enough to wear. I slipped into a cubicle, pulled off the soaked briefs and slipped back into my dry trousers; all very efficient except I had no idea what to do with my sopping briefs. In the end I simply tossed them in the bin going commando and feeling a little strange and oddly guilty.

#

When I got back to my desk I found a message flashing on the screen with an attachment. It was a file we’d been waiting on and needed urgent attention. I’d have to work late to get it done.

As I say, the firm is pretty easy-going but when something urgent comes in it’s expected that you buckle down and accommodate what needs to be done. If you’ve made plans, you put them on hold; it’s the trade-off for having the comfortable work environment we have. Get it done and your time’s flexible.

I let mum know I’d be working late, but of course I didn’t mention the wet pants scenario. She said she’d clean things up and had put a waterproof sheet on my bed so wouldn’t have to worry about anything. I thanked her, told her not to make me a meal as I didn’t know just how long I’d be, and got back to work.

For the rest of the day we worked hard trying to get the project complete for the deadline. We were doing quite well but an important piece of information was missing and another part of the company, in a different area of the country, was busy finding it and then had to email it over.

The missing folder arrived late but only a handful of the staff was needed to work on it... I was one of them. Just before I started on my bit of the project, the clouds re-gathered and the world seemed to darken. Rain poured from the heavens and a distant rumble announced another summer storm was on its way.

As I pulled up the first page on my computer I felt that strange, though not unknown, apprehensive tingle run down my spine. I closed my eyes and told myself to breathe deep, exhale after a count of five and repeat. I was with a few others, in a working environment, so should be OK... or at least I hoped so.

I re-read the page and was happy to see that my part in the urgent assignment wasn’t that difficult. In fact, I chided myself for being so self-possessed about a coming storm and to just get on with it. I knew if I gave it my full, uninterrupted attention, I could have this done before 9pm... not as late as some nights I’d worked in the past. This eased my thinking, just as a brilliant flash and instant crash of thunder took out our computer system.

#

The associated rumble was loud and, in the dark for me at least, quite scary. The others left in the office to deal with this urgent assignment were laughing, though I’m not sure if it was because they found the situation funny or were hiding their own anxiety. However, the emergency generator kicked in but only supplied enough energy for lighting and the most basic of functions. There wasn’t enough power to run the computer systems and the associated bank of servers. Things were working but barely on essentials.

I was standing in the office wondering what to do next when Paula, the head of department, noticed my wet pants. Almost at the same moment I felt a strange tingle as a trickle of pee streamed down the leg of my chinos. I looked down and was surprised to see just how wet I was then my gaze travelled back to the supervisor who had a concerned look on her face.

“Thunder not your thing?” she enquired.

I was struck dumb with dismay as I searched her face for censure but none was forthcoming. Instead she seemed to read my predicament and ordered me to follow. I kept mumbling my apologies as I shuffled, rather than walked, the twenty or so yards to her office.

It said - Paula Dewhurst – Head of Tech and Projects – on her door.

She didn’t seem to react to anything I said but once behind closed doors sat on the edge of her desk and for the first time in ages, I realised I was talking to my boss.

Mrs Dewhurst was one of the most relaxed and even-tempered people I’d ever met and since joining the team straight from school, I’d always got on well with her. Although I was young and a trainee when I started, she took me under her wing and quickly earned a position as a specialist in the organisation and research of historical computer files.

She herself was very tech savvy and while a good twenty years older than me (in fact about the same age as my mum), we had worked amicably together on various projects. Up until then, the office had been very relaxed and an incredibly wonderful place to work but, as she sat on her desk appraising me, for the first time since I’d been employed there, I felt what I was... a stupid kid who’d just wet his pants.

She didn’t insist on a regimented office – it was all first names and friendly. However, at that moment Paula was most definitely Mrs Dewhurst... my supervisor.

It could have been my mum sitting there and deciding what to do but it wasn’t... it was my boss. I felt the flame of embarrassment flow from my toes to my face. I tried to apologise but wasn’t sure if that was enough. I just mumbled.

#

I didn’t know what to say or do so I just stood there with my hands covering the damp patch, and I wasn’t doing a particularly good job at that. Eventually she seemed to relax as if she’d come to some conclusion.

“I have a daughter who reacts to thunderstorms... human biometeorology or some such thing... and although she’s now just become a teenager, she still takes fright when one is forecast. She has a similar response but has learned to take precautions.”

I stood there ashamed and not knowing quite what was expected of me.

“You’ve appeared a little off all day... and now...” She pointed to the dark stain down my right leg.

I could say nothing to explain, I didn’t know how to start.

She delved into her bottom draw and pulled out a small package.

“I can’t have you working out there in that state... and as I don’t think we’re going to get the systems back up and running before tomorrow, I suggest you put this on.” She pushed the folded package over to me. “Clean yourself up as best you can and get off home.”

At first it didn’t register what she’d given me but then it dawned... it was a Tena Pants Maxi.

“That should keep any dribbles or other frights at bay until you get home and... I know you may not be all that keen...” She must have recognised the shock as I looked at what I’d been given. “However, if you were my son I’d just tell you to man up and put it on. You really don’t want any more embarrassing accidents.”

I didn’t know what to say because I was quite flustered but, with her saying... ‘if I was her son’ I knew this was more an instruction than a request. I’m eighteen but it felt like mum was telling me something for my own good so I didn’t feel I could argue the point.

I felt like a naughty, silly little toddler but did as told and shuffled out of her office very conscious of how nasty and cloying wet pants were. Because I’d gone commando there’d been no underpants to help limit the flood... and boy had I flooded. I entered the restroom, pulled down my soaked pants and wiped the damp area with toilet paper before shuffling the strange but nicely padded feminine item up my legs. Man up indeed.

I stood for a second or two... taking in the moment...  ‘biometeorology’ was that what she’d said?

Oddly enough, the soft quilted and supportive padding made me instantly feel better. I ran my hands over the flexible fabric and it reminded me of the pull-ups I occasionally wore when younger. Even though I was at work, and would have dreaded anyone finding out about my need for protection when a thunderstorm came, it was wonderful that my boss understood my predicament. Despite being designed for a lady, they seemed to grip me in all the right places and some of my confidence returned.

Again I smoothed my palms over the soft material and the distant thunder now didn’t seem so threatening.

I pulled up my chinos and whilst they were stained I thought, with a bit of manipulation of the rest of my clothes, I’d manage to get out of the building before anyone else noticed. The thunder had rumbled off but it was still bucketing down. As no doubt I was going to get soaked again on the way to the bus, drying my pants first would have been a senseless undertaking. I nervously slipped on my jacket and collected my things. Meanwhile, Paula, although I could only see her now as the authoritative Mrs Dewhurst, was waiting at the door. I nodded my thanks and said my goodbyes.

“Hope you have a comfortable journey home.” She smiled before telling the rest of the office to return bright and early tomorrow morning. “Be in for 7.30 please, we need to get this all done and dusted by noon.”

The look she gave me when I smiled my thanks was returned but I felt there was more to it and just hoped she could keep a secret. However, that Tena Maxi Pant hugged me all the way home and if I’m honest, not only felt fantastic but did the job it was supposed to do. I had a smile on my face for most of the journey just thinking about what I was wearing under my trousers.

However, because of temporary flooding the bus got stuck in traffic, which meant the soak-ability of the Tena was put to the test. Nervously, with other passengers all around, I released my bladder, so, as the rain beat against the bus window, my absorbent girlie pants did a fine job. 

# # #

...to be continued

 

 

 

[Pierry Louys]

Really happy to see another story from you! Really miss your stories !! This one is promising !!

[dondd]

Glad to see another one from Les Lea!  Eager for the next installment.

[Menaiya]

More Les lea, just what I needed!

[maly]

Glad to see another of your stories, i was getting the withdraws!

Thanks.

Maly.

[Eagle0769]

Very nice story. Your idea is great.

I wonder if Mrs. Dewhurst will be checking to see if he has protection on

from now on. Hopefully she wants a baby BOY to play Mommy to.

Great writing as usual.

[Les Lea]

Hi Guys

Thanks for the taking the time to post a comment and a huge THANKS for such nice words.

I know I say it all the time but such encouragement is the lifestuff for a writer and greatly appreciated.

So, I'm going to say it again... THANKS

Hugs (when we're allowed)

Les?

[Baby Toni38]

Great start and with so many paths to go it will be interesting to see wherected you go.

***** Where you go. ******

[Les Lea]

Part 2

I arrived home not much later than usual.

“Hello love, I thought you said you’d be late.”

“Yer, sorry mum, I should have called but there was a power cut in the office and work was suspended... so we got sent home but have an early start tomorrow... 7.30.”

“Oh, that is an early start... I’ll make sure you’re up at six that should give you plenty of time to get yourself sorted.”

It didn’t sink in at that moment just what mum meant but said she’d rustle something up to eat if I wanted to get changed. I’m sure she didn’t know I was nursing a wet Tena but I was soaked to the skin from the constant downpour so possibly looked like a drowned rat.

“Thanks mum... you’re the best.”

#

In my room I stripped off... everything was wet so everything would have to go straight into the laundry basket. I padded over to the bathroom where it’s kept and threw my damp stuff in. However, I was down to my soaked Tena wondering how to dispose of that when mum, carrying a pile of washing and other bits and pieces, came in and clocked me.

“Well, you weren’t wearing those this morning were you?”

I blushed and tried to hide myself behind my hands, which was silly as mum had seen me naked before, but it was the Tena I was trying to hide. I was suddenly mumbling but without saying anything.

“Look, here’s your clean stuff.” She looked over to the loaded basket. “I think I’d better put your other things on to wash.”

“Erm mum, can you soak my chinos please... I had a bit of an accident at work and, umm, wet them.”

“More storms uh?”

I nodded.

She mumbled something about the return of my old problem as she rummaged in the laundry basket.

“Are your underpants in here? You’d better let me have them as well.”

A sudden pang of guilt ran through my body and a spurt rushed into the already well-soaked Tena.

“Mmmm, no I left them at work... I was too embarrassed and...”

“Don’t say anything else Anthony but you shouldn’t leave stuff for others to clean up after you.... you know better than that.”

It was strange that even though I was working and eighteen, without meaning to, she could make me feel like a silly, inconsiderate little kid. Here was mother complaining of leaving stuff for others to clean up and yet she was still cleaning up after me.

“Sorry mum.”

She put her spare arm around me and pulled me in close and kissed the top of my head. I’m a sucker for a hug.

“Well, where did the Tena come from?”

I looked at her questioningly. “How did you know it was a Tena?”

“Believe me son, women know and put their faith in products like Tena. Once you’ve had kids they’re an indispensable part of the mother’s underwear draw.”

This made no sense to me and I didn’t want to take this discussion any further so, having taken the pile of ironed clothes from her, started to leave the bathroom to put them away when I got back to my bedroom.

Mum followed.

“Aren’t you going to tell me where you got the Tena from?” She was smiling but I detected she wanted to know and I knew better than to keep secrets.

“Er, my Boss, Mrs Dewhurst... saw I’d soaked my pants... the thunder.” I bashfully explained. “She offered this as something to help...”

“Well that was very nice and thoughtful of her... you’ll have to thank her... how about a box of chocolates or something?”

“Mummm, I don’t think it warrants that...” I felt the even stodgier material so perhaps her thoughtfulness had actually saved me further embarrassment on the bus.

Mum was flapping her finger and looking at the expanded Tena indicating I should give it to her.

“Look, I’ll get rid of that...” There was a soft ‘ping’ from downstairs “Ah, your tea’s ready so get some pants on and come down.”

Mum went and started wiping stuff down and tidying things up in the bathroom as I diligently put my freshly ironed clothes away, the embarrassment of only wearing the sopping Tena Pants Maxi, now of little concern.

I tentatively pulled it down and mum reappeared and tossed a towel at me. I didn’t need any further instruction as I passed her the mangled wet fabric.

“Oh, there are a couple of old pull-ups in a cardboard box at the back of our wardrobe I’ll go and fetch it. I think you should wear one of those for tonight.”

“What? When did you get them?” I asked incredulously.

“The last time... a couple of years ago now but we kept them just in case.”

I remembered I’d had a few weeks just before I started my job where on occasions I wet at night. Amazingly that seemed years and years ago but it was only two and I’d all but forgotten about that... though mum obviously hadn’t.

“Do I have to? I mean I’m...” I was whining like a three year-old.

She returned with a large box that, judging from the image on the front, once held an old computer screen.

“Look, dad and Jenny are watching TV and I think the last thing they’ll want is for you to have a sudden leak don’t you? You’ll be wearing one for bed so I don’t see what the problem is.”

She was being quite pushy about all this but I wasn’t sure it was that necessary. However, I should have worn something for work; though it honestly never occurred to me I would do what I did whilst in the office.

“Oh no problem,” I murmured under my breath, “I bet they don’t fit now... that was ages ago.”

The truth is I’ve only grown an inch since I was sixteen and my slim build just doesn’t get fat no matter how much I eat. I’m still just as slight as I’ve always been, perhaps since I started work my hair’s a bit tidier but that’s about it.

#

It was dad who insisted I got a haircut for work. In just about all other things mum leads but he was adamant that I presented a mature and dignified look on my first day. Since being a kid I’d always had thick floppy hair that I quite liked but on this occasion dad was firm – Get Your Haircut.

He said the style made me still look like a schoolboy, which was all very well and good, but he wanted my new colleagues (his words) to take me seriously.

Anyway, I don’t argue with my parents and both mum and Jenny agreed with him so, I did what I was told. Now my hair’s much shorter and dad was pleased at the change. Anyway, there I was, all grown up... but about to return to my childhood pull-ups.

Mum was continuing her conversation.

“...well before you get all hoity-toity about what you think and don’t think just check and see... otherwise, you’ll have to wear a couple of my Tena Lady’s tonight instead.”

I looked apprehensively at her.

“Well you did look fetching in one.” She teased.

I wasn’t sure if she was joking or not but took the cardboard box and peered in. I was surprised to see it not only held a large batch of pull-ups but various bottles, creams and assorted other bits and bats.

I grasped one folded package and it looked far too small. However, once I’d flapped it out and slid it up my legs it felt tight but extremely comfortable hugging my bits and pieces. Not unlike Mrs Dewhurst’s Tena pants the padding was subtle and hardly noticeable... I suppose until wet.

I’d worn nappies and pull-ups on a few occasions over the years yet approached this as if it was a new experience. I put that down to the fact that I regarded myself at eighteen an adult, before I’d only been a kid, and, the last time I’d needed such night time protection was over two years ago. I hadn’t had an accident since... well not one that anyone knew about.

Like always I slipped on a pair of shorts and tee-shirt, my favourite way to dress, and met mum in the kitchen but not until I’d said my hellos to dad and Jenny.

#

We were all sat around watching ‘Line of Duty’ when the credits rolled.

“Don’t forget you’ve got an early start tomorrow... and I suspect you didn’t sleep particularly well last night so how about an early night for you?”

I could quite easily have fallen asleep in the chair; the padding of the pull-up was quite comforting under my shorts.

To be honest I was quite tired watching TV as my eyes had been drooping. So mum was probably right... I needed to get a good night’s sleep.

Both dad and Jenny had noticed the lightning tree out back and I told them I’d witnessed the strike. Both seemed impressed and although I enthused about its spectacular nature I didn’t go into too much detail about the wet floor... or the wet work pants as a result. However, talking about it had sent another one of those strange ripples through my body so thought it was definitely time for bed.

As is our family practice I went around and kissed them all goodnight. It was something we’d always done and even at eighteen didn’t see why I should stop. It was a nice way of ending the day.

“I’ll be up in minute.” Mum murmured as I slipped in to kiss her cheek.

“It’s OK I’m fine...” I sleepily mumbled back.

“Sweetheart... you’re wet.” She whispered.

It was only then I noticed that the front of my shorts had become semi-opaque and the swelled pull-up, with the colourful skateboarder motif, could quite easily be seen under it. I hadn’t known that had happened.

“Ohhh.”

I hurried up to my room hopeful that dad and Jenny hadn’t noticed though it wouldn’t be the end of the world if they had... as it wouldn’t have been the first time.

I took the stairs two at a time and with each step could feel the enlarged soaked pull-up rubbing against my crotch. I stood staring in the mirror at my shorts and for a brief moment I stumbled back in time to when I was about seven and had a similar ‘accident’. At that age I was stunned at how much liquid a pull-up could contain and yet didn’t feel wet.

I had no idea why my body was reacting and doing what it did but that strange tingle should have been a clue.

“Don’t worry love... it might have been all that talk about the lightning strike.” Mum was at my door exactly the same way as when I was younger gently soothing my awkwardness. “Let’s get these off,” she said tugging at my shorts, “and you into something a bit more fitting.”

I was a bit embarrassed but looked over at the box as if it contained the answer to several problems and noticed more pull-ups waiting to be used.

I tried to stop mum faffing.

“Mum I can do it I’m not a child.” I said it with more assertiveness than I meant.

“I’m sure you’re right but, you’re my little boy and at the moment I think you need a mother’s care and attention so...”

I’m not sure if all mums are the same but when mine gets something in her head there’s no stopping her - ignoring any protests and simply getting on with it.

My shorts and wet pull-up were down and mum had me naked as she looked in the box.

“Now, what do we have in here?”

Whilst doing that she also passed me the towel from earlier, which was conveniently still hung over the bottom of my bed. I automatically began to wipe the area and then wrap it around my waist as she picked stuff out.

At the bottom of the box she found a couple of large folded white squares of fabric.

“Ah, mmm, yes these might be useful.”

I watched in fascination but wasn’t keen on having to wear a nappy. I kept quiet because I didn’t want to give her ideas.

“Probably not, you’re older now so I can see that... hmmm... these look like they might not fit so perhaps... hmmm... erm... tonight... we can double the pull-ups hmmm?”

She looked at me for a response.

“I’m not sure I can get two pull-ups over each other they’re a bit tight.

“Well,” mum offered, “let’s get you into a dry one first and then think about it. You get off to the bathroom and clean up first.”

I did as directed, giving myself a damn good wipe with the very cloths I’d used the night before to wipe up the puddle. I left the wet pull-up and damp shorts on the floor by the laundry bin for mum to sort out like she always did. Returning to my room she’d disappeared but returned shortly with a few things in her hand.

“Right, first things first, have you got a pull-up on?”

I shook my head.

“Well then do that now.”

A couple I’d inspected earlier were laid out on the bed so, without removing my towel slipped one up my legs. Mum noticed the extra lotions in the box and had another thought.

“Wait, wait. Before you do I think we need to give your tender boy parts,” she smiled knowingly, “a bit more protection.”

Squeezing a huge dollop into the palm of her hand she yanked away my modesty towel and, with the pull-up around my ankles, immediately started to spread the stuff all around my privates and bum cheeks.

“Mummm.” I complained about being treated like a child.

“Stop your squirming.”

Being eighteen obviously meant nothing to her as she thoroughly applied the creamy lotion and then watched as I finished sliding into a fresh pull-up. God it was like first day of school all over again but I kept silent.

“OK, yes, they do look a little tight but, if you put this over it,” she showed me one of her Tena Lady pads, “and then add these,” she held up a pair of plastic pants. “You should see the night through.”

“Mummm.” I was so shocked I didn’t even ask her where the plastic pants came from.

“Look, we both know that this peeing isn’t just going to stop, and even more so if there’s another storm tonight, so let’s just be ready and I’ll organise something better in future. I’ve already checked the waterproof mattress protector is fitted correctly.... so basically... you’re ready to go.”

For a moment I was a bit confused as I didn’t know if she expected me to wet there and then.

“But mum... I can’t wear... I mean...”

“Just put them on and complain tomorrow if you wake up to a wet bed... otherwise...”

I knew there’d be no argument and I suppose I was glad she’d come up with some kind of solution but I felt strangely trapped in all this stuff and wondered if I’d ever get to sleep.

Despite moments of slight discomfort the padding did make me feel fairly safe.  After those initial doubts sleep came fairly quickly and, as far as I know, we had a storm-free night.

However, come the morning and the plastic pants had slipped down my legs and I’d leaked a little bit onto my sheets. So, it looked like I was back needing extra protection on a night and I wondered how long it would last this time.

#

Mum was disappointed that her double pull-up hadn’t worked and decided that the plastic pants were too thin and loose to make any real difference. Anyway, she didn’t get in the least bit impatient because, as she justified: “We were just trying things out.”

“Sorry mum, but there’s a bit more washing.”

She just waggled her head. “"Comme-ci comme ça".

I wasn’t sure what was meant but then she looked at the clock and said “If you’d been going into work at the normal time I’d have come into town with you but no shops will be open this early... so I’ll go in later.”

I just shrugged and checked out a darker pair of trousers mum had pressed and hung up for work, which was a shame with it being such a sunny day. With these trousers I always think a shirt and tie are needed instead of just a polo shirt. That was what I liked about the chinos, casual but smart, they were summery and made me look a little less formal around the office.

Had it been allowed I would have opted for shorts and a polo shirt and although it was my preferred way to dress, no one else in the office wore shorts to work.

Anyway, after the night I’d had it seemed more appropriate to wear pull-ups instead of my normal briefs ‘just in case’. Wetting in the office hopefully had been a one off but didn’t want to repeat that experience so this extra bit of protection was an added boost to my confidence.

Mum checked by smoothing the material down. “Hmmm, I hope this will be sufficient.”

I nodded. I was getting used to mum treating me like a schoolboy and checking I’d got all the right things for class... except I am eighteen so quit it mother. I may have thought it but I wouldn’t say it. I hate confrontation even at such a basic level.

She told me to pack a couple of spares. I debated with myself about anyone seeing them but thought I doubted anyone would even notice or be that bothered. Maybe that was wishful thinking but going on how unconcerned Mrs Dewhurst was I anticipated the rest of the team would be of a similar mind.

It was 6.35 and mum and I sat at breakfast together. Jenny was still in bed as school was a good two hours away for her and dad had already left for his job.

“Mum, have you ever heard of biometeorology?”

She looked curiously at me.

“I have, it’s something your father and I looked into a couple of years back. Why do you ask?”

“Well, it was something Mrs Dewhurst said about her daughter... that she suffers when a thunderstorm comes and she has to take precautions.”

“Really, well Mrs Dewhurst sounds like a very knowledgeable woman.”

“She’s great and as I mentioned before very supportive of her staff...”

“She must be if she gives out her Tena to one and all.” She smiled cheekily at her joke.

“So,” I grinned back to let her know I knew she was joking, “what do you know about it?”

“Well... biometeorology tells us that the weather can cause people to suffer from various ailments; migraines, blocked noses, weepy eyes, sleep problems, asthma... all kinds of stuff and some can be quite debilitating.”

“But I’m not incapacitated... I mean I’m eighteen so surely things like that shouldn’t affect me”

“Yes and no. Look love, storms have affected you quite often throughout your life and we all assumed you’d grow out of it, or at least wouldn’t be so much of a problem. But last night was different... you witnessed a strike for the first time. It was all so close and you say you watched for over an hour. You were drawn to it. It’s not surprising it had some affect.”

I sat there thinking about what she’d said. I was also trying to remember the last time I had a wet night and that was over two years ago when I was about to start work. I don’t think there were any storms around then but perhaps there was and I just didn’t remember.

“So the storms are still causing my problem?”

“More than likely, although we haven’t found any similar reaction on the web. We have tried to find out sweetheart but have found nothing. I mean, loads of people are stressed by them, and it can drive people to extremes but perhaps you’re just wired differently and so... the effects are different.”

I nodded taking all this in but the bottom line was that yesterday, not only had I wet the bed but I’d also peed my pants at work and that wasn’t on.

Mum reached out and held my hand as I brought the mug of tea to my lips.

“Look sweetheart, do you realise you’re trembling now just talking about it?”

I hadn’t but suddenly became aware I was flooding my pull-up.

# # #

...to be continued

[Pierry Louys]

Poor little guy!!! 
loving this story les!!!

[maly]

Thanks for the new chapter, i think some proper nappies are called for.

Maly.

[Les Lea]

Thanks for the comment Maly, always nice to hear from you.?

Anthony is going on a strange journey... it may seem obvious to begin with but...

[Mugi]

What a cute story, keep it up Les Lea! ? ?

I wonder if he will be like the office baby, getting changed by not only his mother but also boss ?

[Les Lea]

Hi Pierry

Yes, poor guy indeed... Anthony has a number of trials before the end of this story.

Thanks for your comment.

Mugi... glad you also enjoying Anthony's adventure. Stay tuned to see if your prediction is correct.

Thanks

Les

[Pierry Louys]

5 hours ago, Les Lea said:

Hi Pierry

Yes, poor guy indeed... Anthony has a number of trials before the end of this story.

Thanks for your comment.

Mugi... glad you also enjoying Anthony's adventure. Stay tuned to see if your prediction is correct.

Thanks

Les

I think his mommy gonna shopping some interesting things in the city rsrs since he still fits in pull ups I think some bulky pampers is in the future rsrsrs with nice onesies to keep everything in place in his workplace and a nice bulk cloth diaper in home 

[Les Lea]

Over on this site... I'm trying to find out what triggers people's wetting. Any thoughts?

 

[Les Lea]

Part 3

I felt like a silly little kid wetting myself in front of mum. She saw I was shaking, did she know I was peeing my pants as well?

“Mum, I’ve, I’ve... er... I need to go and change.” I said - guilt and shame making me blush furiously.

“Oh sweetheart, have you had an accident?” She asked with such love and concern.

I nodded.

“OK, let’s get you changed and see if there’s anything else we can use.”

We got to my room and mum immediately went to rummage through the box again. This time the large white squares of material were spread on the bed as she checked them out.

“Look love, get out of that pull-up... clean yourself and come back as soon as you can and let’s get this sorted quickly otherwise you’ll end up missing the bus.”

I went to the bathroom and shrugged down my pants. The pull-up had done quite a good job of soaking up the piss and I was quite impressed that it had absorbed so much liquid. I hadn’t noticed before but the material was still quite warm so I paused a moment before I pulled them off.

As I ran my hands over it I began to appreciate what a fantastic invention they were. I was quite proud of the bulge the engorged padding had given me and, as I patted it, how solid that area had become. It was a strange mix of feelings – gratified I had large manly bulge whilst being childish for soaking myself... also the pull-up had a cartoon image of a boy skateboarding on it... Jeez.

I heard mum calling and rushing me to get a move on so I stepped out of it, grabbed a sponge and quickly wiped myself down and then, with trousers in one hand but otherwise dressed smartly in a shirt and tie, made my way back to where mum was still fiddling with various items laid out on the bed.

“Sorry love but we’re going to have to improvise a little bit and I’m not sure you’re going to like it but...”

I could see what she was hinting at... those large fabric squares were now folded into a tell-tale shape... I was going to be wearing a nappy.

“Mummm.” I was using the tone which even to me sounded quite juvenile.

“Look love, I’ll get something better when I can get to town but in the meantime, and to give you at least a modicum of security, I think it’s best to use something that has been tried and tested before and proved effective.”

It’s true.  There had been a few times, and at various ages, when I’d had need of a nappy so it wasn’t an alien concept for me to have to wear one now. However, I’M EIGHTEEN so surely...

“But mum,” there was that childish moan again, “a nappy? Surely there’s something...?”

“If there was then I would have suggested it,” she interrupted with an edge.

Just then Jenny appeared at the door yawning and stretching.

“What time is it... am I late for school?”

“No darling, sorry, just getting your brother off to work, I’m afraid he had another bad night... the old problem.”

“Sorry to hear that.” She yawned again. “OK, I’ll get up in a minute.”

“Go back to sleep love... if you want you can have another hour...”

“’S ok... I’m awake now...” and wandered back to her room.

I’d stood there, naked from the waist down and my sister never batted an eyelid. She hadn’t queried the box or the fact that we’d just been talking about me wearing a nappy... the situation seemed so bizarre.

“Let’s get you into this and then you can get off to work.”

“Mum I can’t be seen wearing a nappy to work, I’ll just wear another pull-up I’m sure I’ll be OK.”

“Well you might think you’ll be OK but from past experience... you know you can’t guarantee anything. So, for your own good, let’s make it something that will save any embarrassment.”

“Don’t you think wearing a nappy to work will be embarrassing in itself?”

“Look, I’m not arguing with you... so wear what you want but I think you’ll feel better knowing that should you have an accident at least everything will be contained. It’s up to you.”

Mum was looking at me as if to say ‘your move’ but, even though I really didn’t want to, I think she was probably right and a nappy would be best.

#

There had been times over the two years since I got the job that, although I’m quite settled and competent, I felt that I’m still a little kid only playing at being grown up. It’s not something I exhibit, well at least I don't think so, but sometimes, in my head, there’s a voice that’s saying what a lucky boy I am. Where that voice comes from, or who said it, I have no idea but, and I won’t admit this to anyone but occasionally in the office I have to rush to the toilet and check I haven’t wet my underpants. Sometimes I have.

“OK, let’s get that nappy on.” I said pretending it was my decision.

“Good choice love... now lie out on this towel and I’ll rub in some cream and a bit of powder and we’ll be done in seconds.”

As I lay out on the soft material my thoughts returned to when I last needed this. I had just finished school and was nervous about the new job I was starting. For a couple of weeks before and another few after I commenced, I woke up wet. I was anxious and embarrassed but my parents were quick to make sure I adopted a ‘safety first’ way of thinking.

“You need to wear protection when you go to bed.” They both chorused, so I had little option. First it had been pull-ups but once I started work for some reason I needed extra protection at night. “Back to nappies until you’ve had several dry nights in a row” was the rule.

At that time mum introduced me to terry cotton nappies and promised that once she pulled the ends of material together, pinned it on tightly and added a nice pair of vinyl pants - I’d be as ‘Happy as Larry’, less anxious and all my worries would fade away.

“A nappy is not your enemy... it’s a very good friend. Learn to appreciate that it’s you it’s protecting.”

Mum made it sound so positive when I was sixteen and she was doing the same now at eighteen.

She was as good as her word and had me tightly bound in moments. She also found another pair of plastic pants hidden at the bottom of the box but struggled to pull them up because they were too tight to go over the bulk. However, after I got up and wriggled them around a bit they eventually had the fabric tightly contained.

“I know they’re a bit constricting... but they’ll hold everything in quite well so you’ll just have to put up with them for now.”

Once I’d pulled my trousers up the bulge didn’t seem so bad although I certainly knew I was wearing a hefty piece of underwear.

#

I sat on the bus into town conscious of the fact that I was, at eighteen, wearing a nappy to work. I had mixed feelings because, although I felt silly at being reduced to this, the padding was strangely comforting. The tight plastic pants keeping everything tidy also provided a sort of soft silky hug with each slight movement. There was a soft rustle but I didn’t think many would notice, and again, I found it quite reassuring.

Mind you, the rounded, but nonetheless, impressive mound in the front of my trousers fascinated me. I couldn’t stop prodding or squeezing it until I saw an old lady looking across from the seat opposite and she wasn’t very pleased. There isn’t much you can say in your defence and announcing it was only a nappy I’m not sure would have gone down any better. So, flushed with embarrassment, I stopped and looked out the window for the remainder of the ride.

The journey usually takes about twenty-five minutes but this much earlier time than I usually go had me outside the office well before 7.30, I hoped that would stand me in good stead.

Of course Mrs Dewhurst was already there and a couple of others. In fact, when I thought about it, there would only be the handful of us who were sent home last night, the rest would arrive at the usually time around nine.

“Morning Anthony, nice and early, thank you it’s much appreciated.” She said with a smile.

“Is everything running OK... nothing blow up I hope?” I added as I switched on the terminal.

“All tickety-boo. OK guys and gals... fresh coffee and doughnuts for those who need a sugar fix over there.” She pointed to full percolator and large box of Krispy Kremes.

Everyone made a beeline straight for the treats.

“Oh Anthony... hope you got home alright last night?” She said when no one else was nearby.

I was ill at ease that she was bringing up the subject but nervously nodded, hoping against hope that she didn’t notice the padding in my trousers.

“Good good...” and toddled off back into her office.

Armed with the welcome refreshments I waddled back to my desk and settled in to catch up on the project - my security confirming padding making its presence felt. However, ignoring its tightness, by 9.30 we were well into it and by almost eleven Arnold, the ‘Initiative Manager’, was compiling the finished assignment for Mrs Dewhurst’s official clearance. Meanwhile, other, normal day-to-day stuff had to be done but that was so much less intense.

The task passed approval and Mrs Dewhurst came out and thanked us all for such sterling work.

#

At just after 12.30 I had a visitor. Mum, armed with loads of bags, came into the office to check I was OK.

“Mummm.” It seemed I couldn’t stop myself from that childish whine.

“It’s OK love I’m just here to let you know I’ve got everything and to see if you’re coping alright with...?” She nodded towards my crotch.

“Mum,” The entire office was looking in my direction and I saw Mrs Dewhurst come out to see if there was something she should know about. No one had met my mother before so they weren’t sure who she was.

“Everybody this is my mum... mum this is everybody.” I said breathing out and wishing I’d had warning she was going to drop in.

“Hi Mrs Turner,” some said in acknowledgement.

Once that was over, everyone returned to work except Mrs Dewhurst, who came to introduce herself properly.

“Hello, Mrs Turner I’m Paula Dewhurst... I’m your son’s supervisor.”

“Hello Mrs Dewhurst...”

“Paula.”

“Paula... pleased to meet you... Anthony speaks very highly of you... he loves working here.” She added unnecessarily I thought.

“We like having him here as well... he’s a great asset and a fine lad... a tribute to you and your husband no doubt.”

“Well that’s very kind... er... I was just checking to make sure he was OK...” Mum looked around to see if I was listening... and I was.”

“Actually Mrs Turner...”

“Mary please.”

“Mary... could I have a word in my office?”

Mum’s smile remained as she followed Paula but I could tell she was a bit worried about what was about to take place. The door closed and I was left sitting at my desk anxious about what these two women would be telling each other. I desperately wanted to sneak up and listen but that couldn’t happen in our open plan office.

“That doesn’t augur well.” Deidre who sits next to me had a grimace on her face.

I just sighed and shrugged I just wish mum had gone straight home rather than call in to check on me.

Suddenly my nappy felt tight and restrictive and it was only then I realised I’d wet it.

“Bloody hell.”

#

As she took the offered seat Mary asked anxiously. “Is everything alright... have I broken a rule about visiting my son?”

“No, no, nothing like that... it’s just, well a little delicate.”

Paula was half hoping the Mrs Turner would automatically know what she was hinting at but then realised what a sensitive subject it might be for all concerned.

“It’s about Anthony’s little accident yesterday.” She almost whispered.

“Thank heaven for that,” Mary looked relieved and then a little guilty. “I mean, I thought it was about something terrible... sorry... I mean I thought he might be fired for some misdemeanour...”

“Well, look, er, um...” Paula was trying to find the correct words. “Yesterday... in the office... he wet his pants twice.”

She searched Mary’s expression to see if she knew.

“Oh.” She hadn’t known it had been twice.

“Of course, it isn’t a cause for dismissal, heavens no, but I was just wondering if, well, if there was anything we could do here at the office to help.”

“Well, it’s an old problem... you see my son gets scared by thunder storms and witnessed a particularly bad one over the weekend that produced an old problem of an uncontrollable bladder.”

She looked to see if Mrs Dewhurst understood.

“We have no idea why he should... but he does... and sometimes that weakened state can last for quite some time. I think Anthony thought at his age he was over such a reaction.” Now she’d started speaking it all just flooded out. “However, the same happened at home and as of today he’s back to wearing more robust protection.”

The conversation carried on for a good ten minutes where Mrs Dewhurst said she was conversant with parts of Mary’s story as her daughter also had a similar problem.

They discussed their past and present means of containing the dilemma and both seemed to agree that a firm insistence on thick protection was the best first step.

“I get my daughter into a disposable at the earliest opportunity,” Paula smiled.

“We used to do that but, as we never know how long it will last... it can end up expensive so we put him back into these...”

She opened one of the huge bags she had with her and took out a couple of hefty terry cotton squares.

“I’ve had to buy some new ones today but... ummm... I’m not sure how you feel about this but... do you think I could leave a couple here for him to change into?” Unsure she looked up into Paula’s eyes. “I mean, he’s hopeless at changing himself but at least he’d have something spare here should he need it. Sitting at his desk in a wet nappy is not going to be good for him.”

“No, I don’t suppose it would.” A little off-guard Paula agreed. “Perhaps you could leave a couple of disposables instead... I’m only thinking out loud... trying to keep the poor lad from too much embarrassment.”

“Well,” Mary sounded disappointed, “if you think that would be better... I think her prefers fabric because that’s what we’ve got him used to but...”

“No, no, no... I’m sorry... of course, if you think these fabric nappies are best then...”

“Look I have extra pins, powder, cream and plastic pants. I could leave a supply here with you and then...”

“Wouldn’t he be embarrassed coming to me for his supplies?”

“I think he’d be more upset if his work colleagues knew about his problem.”

“Mmmm, yes, I can see that.”

“He always speaks highly of you and, I hope I’m not being out of line here but... he sees you as his surrogate mother anyway.”

“Oh.” It was Paula’s turn to be a bit disappointed.

Mary was quickly in. “I mean he always speaks well of you and says how fantastic it is to work alongside you. Quite simply he’s in awe and has the utmost respect for you and your position. Please don’t take what I say the wrong way but he idolises you.”

Mrs Dewhurst thought for a moment. She couldn’t help that the unsolicited praise had struck a welcome and surprising motherly chord.

“You say he’s hopeless at changing his own nappy so...”

“Afraid so. It’s one of those things he’s just not got a handle on with any degree of success. I think he excels in other areas.” She gave a hopeful shrug.

“He’s very competent when it comes to anything here at work. He and I have developed a few new systems...”

“Well, to be honest I think that’s what he needs... the firm encouragement of a woman who knows what taking charge is all about. AND, although I know I’m asking a lot, it would mean a great deal to know he was being looked after right here at work.”

There were a few moments silence as the women ruminated on their conversation. Anthony wasn’t a child and this wasn’t a kindergarten but was in a vulnerable position if he couldn’t help wetting himself. No one wanted this eighteen year old to be embarrassed at work and although precautions would be taken... perhaps it would put minds at rest if a resolution was found and agreed to.

Mrs Dewhurst sat up at her desk for a moment deliberating. “Well, I have to admit, after yesterday I did feel sorry for the poor boy... and lending him one of my Tena...”

“Ah yes, thank you for that and,” Mary delved into her bag and brought out a colourful box, “Anthony insisted that I get you these as a thank you for being so considerate. He really appreciated your thoughtfulness.”

“Roses chocolates, my favourite.”

“I don’t think there are many women who can refuse a box of these. I know I can’t they last a couple of days at most in our house... and it’s mainly me who eats them.” She chuckled at her little self-deprecating comment.

Meanwhile, although the chocolates had been a slight distraction Paula was still unconvinced by this unconventional solution.

“Are you sure he’ll go for me changing him?”

Mary allowed herself a little smile.

“Just be firm, as if he was your daughter, because you know what’s best for him and...” she fondled the nappy material that was draped over her knee, “he will do as he’s told. A strong insistence and I’ve never known Anthony either answer back or not do as he’d told. He absolutely hates confrontation of any kind.”

“So, unlike my daughter... at thirteen she’s as argumentative as anything... it can get a little waring at times.”

“Well I can assure you that’s not Anthony. He’d be more embarrassed at causing a scene than having a nappy changed.” She thought for a moment, “and I would suspect be more than grateful to be relieved of a wet nappy and have a dry one instead. However, I know this isn’t something you’d be expected to consider as part of your working day so I’ll understand if I’m asking too much.”

Again there were another few moments of silence but although Mary knew she was asking a great deal hoped her son’s boss would agree. If not, then Anthony would have to struggle through it on his own.

Mary looked at her watch.

“Sorry Mrs... erm... Paula, I’m taking up far too much of your time and I’m sure you have better things to do than worry about my son.”

“Actually Mary, it’s been wonderful to speak with you and you’ve given me a different perspective on Anthony so, why don’t you leave those things and I’ll do what I can.”

“Well that’s incredibly thoughtful of you. Anthony always says you are very, very kind so thank you from both of us. I hope it’s not going to be too much trouble.”

“We’ll see... er.... um... we don’t know how long his problem will last do we?”

“No, that’s correct, but the storm was quite intense and he saw a strike on a tree not far from  our house so... this is a new intensity and we’re really just preparing for the worst but hope for the best.”

Mrs Dewhurst nodded in agreement.

“I’m sure that despite the occasional wet nappy, it really won’t interfere with his work...”

“No it hasn’t so far so I suppose that’s a good thing.”

Mrs Turner folded the spare items on Mrs Dewhurst desk, together with the creams, pins and powder. She than slipped a packet of plastic pants on top.

“There are three pairs in that packet... luckily they were in a sale so I went mad and bought a few packs... they should be large enough to keep him snug and safe once he’s been changed.”

“OK, well thank you for coming in and bringing me up to date on Anthony. I’m sure we can work some process out that will keep him safe, secure and dry.” She said as she ran her hand over the pile of soft fabric on her desk.

“Well thank you for being so understanding. Anyway, I’d better get off and thanks again.”

Mrs Dewhurst led her out and with a wave to her son, and whilst hauling those huge bags, Mary hurried from the office.

# # #

...to be continued

[Pierry Louys]

Great chapter les but I think disposables I better for work since how he gonna manage dirty diapers in the office ? He gonna carry all day ?  I think a nice pampers is gonna do the trick ! 

[Eagle0769]

Good chapter. I’m enjoying this story. Has many ways of going. Hope she enjoys having an 18 year old baby boy to take care of. Oh and great writing. 

[maly]

Thanks for another great chapter.

[Les Lea]

Thanks Eagle0769

I don't think his mum wants to baby him it's just how some mums are when their child has a problem BUT stay tuned and hopefully you'll enjoy what this 'little quirk of nature' does to our Anthony.

Maly

Thanks, glad you are enjoying it. I have finished this story and am just editing it hoping to avoid too many mistakes.

 

[Pierry Louys]

But 

5 hours ago, Les Lea said:

Thanks Eagle0769

I don't think his mum wants to baby him it's just how some mums are when their child has a problem BUT stay tuned and hopefully you'll enjoy what this 'little quirk of nature' does to our Anthony.

Maly

Thanks, glad you are enjoying it. I have finished this story and am just editing it hoping to avoid too many mistakes.

 

But les you have to agree if she want to use cloth diaper she want to baby him a little since disposables is more practical and hide better ! But for mommy’s nothing more cute that a baby bottom with a cloth nappy rsrs 

[Eagle0769]

8 hours ago, Les Lea said:

Thanks Eagle0769

I don't think his mum wants to baby him it's just how some mums are when their child has a problem BUT stay tuned and hopefully you'll enjoy what this 'little quirk of nature' does to our Anthony.

Maly

Thanks, glad you are enjoying it. I have finished this story and am just editing it hoping to avoid too many mistakes.

 

You’re probably right but I can hope. Lol

[Les Lea]

Part 4

 

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god... what had mum and Mrs Dewhurst talked about?”

 

Mum seemed to have been in there ages. In fact, it must have been quite some time because I’ve wet my nappy in nervous anticipation whilst waiting for her to come out. I didn’t even get chance to question her before she rushed off home. No doubt I’ll be called in soon and told off for mum’s impromptu visit.

Mrs Dewhurst looked out to me as she drew the blinds to her office. She’s done that before if she gets a migraine and no doubt mum had encouraged one along. I was trying to concentrate on my work but had a nagging suspicion mum had fled so she wouldn’t have to explain anything.

What could that be?

After about half an hour Mrs Dewhurst beckoned me to her office. Again pessimistic Deidre voiced her troubled opinion – “That can’t be good” – before I nervously made my way there.

She was sitting behind her desk unwrapping the shiny purple covering of a Hazel in Caramel from a large box of Roses Chocolates on her desk.

“Thank you for these... they weren’t necessary but much appreciated.”

“Oh, that’s why mum came. I, I, erm, wanted to thank you again for your, um, kindness...”

“Yes, your mother said you were considerate that way.” She smiled a chocolatey smile.

I felt relieved that’s what mum brought in but now felt stupid for getting myself in a state and flooding my nappy.

“You’re a very lucky lad Anthony having a mother who is so attentive to your needs.”

“Yes, well we’re that type of family... all quite close and all...”

“Needless to say, we did talk about your little accident in the office yesterday and the possible reasons for that.”

I felt everything tighten up in response and another spurt of pee entered my already soaked nappy. I didn’t know what to say or do and stood there struck dumb waiting for her to dismiss or ridicule me or...”

“She tells me that you are back in protection is that correct?”

I didn’t want to admit it but this was someone in power so I wasn’t going to lie. I nervously nodded yes.

“I suspect that you are wet at the moment... is THAT correct?”

Again, I was in no position to deny anything and reluctantly nodded.

“OK, well your mother has convinced me that to get the best out of you whilst you have this problem, and that you will work more efficiently, is if you are put into a dry nappy.”

She looked into my eyes that were trying desperately to look elsewhere.

“Do you think she’s correct in that assessment?” She’d never spoken to me in that sort of inquisitive tone before and I was caught off-guard.

My entire body was in flight mode and yet I was stuck, unable to force my muscles to respond, her deep pile carpet held me like a spider’s web. It felt like I’d been a naughty little lad caught in some stupid act.

#

She slipped another chocolate in her mouth, I couldn’t see which one but it did give time to think about my next move. There wasn’t one.

“Hmmm not very talkative at the moment but your mother and I have sorted your dilemma. As from today, until you are over these damp episodes, I have spare nappies and stuff here for you to change into.”

Now my body really was reacting to this news and I was shaking violently within.

“As you are wet at the moment I don’t see why you shouldn’t change now.” It didn’t seem a request just something that was going to happen. “And, if you’ll pardon my presumption, although your mother has already sanctioned the next move, I’m going to change you as I would my thirteen year old daughter when she has a similar problem.”

I could feel a scream, a shout, a pleading but nothing but numbness gripped my body. I definitely wanted to say no but...  mum had already authorised this, this, this betrayal of my privacy.

I was praying for someone to come in, or the phone to ring, or something to avoid the embarrassment that mum and Mrs Dewhurst had organised. I couldn’t believe what she’d just said or that was an action she’d be prepared to take.

I found my voice... it was small and almost imperceptible. “But, but...” and that was the sum total of my protest.

“Anthony, I know this might seem a bit unconventional,” her probing voice had become more friendly and understanding. “But you are in a very delicate position and your mother is worried that your nappy will cause further problems if left unattended.”

I stood mortified.

“OK Anthony, just lie out on the carpet and leave the rest to me. Think of me as your surrogate mother... and I’ll think I’m changing my daughter... so we should both be less embarrassed.”

I was standing stock still and stunned... this can’t be happening.

“Anthony,” she barked. “I’ll not tell you twice and in future you’ll do as I say immediately if you don’t mind. I have other things to deal with apart from your wet nappy. Now take off your pants and lie out on the carpet.”

When authority barks an order I do as I’m told so nervously lowered my pants, exposing the soaked and saggy material being held up by an equally bulging pair of opaque plastic pants. 

“Your mother is correct a wet nappy shouldn’t be left for too long.”

Good grief how on earth had they got around to talking about nappies?

The thing was the fabric had turned a pale yellow and the odour of urine assaulted the senses. If it wasn’t for the firmness and immediate action of Mrs Dewhurst I would have died from embarrassment. I didn’t get the time or opportunity to protest as she just looked around, I guess to make sure she had all the correct items to complete the change.

Now I was dreading anyone coming in but the office knew if the blinds were drawn only in emergency was she to be disturbed. We were all aware of the nasty migraines she suffered and needed a few minutes of peace and quiet to fight it off.

I lay there like a statue unable to speak or move.  This was terrible pressure and I felt myself spurt another warm jet into my already sodden nappy.

She opened her desk and took out some wet wipes, tubes of ointment and container of powder. She hesitated a little bit before revealing a brand new nappy, which she then immediately set about folding.

Once that was ready she released the saturated material around my hips and exclaimed just how wet it was. I was dying from total embarrassment as she wiped the damp area around my equipment.

“Now don’t be embarrassed Anthony (a bit late for that) just relax and I’ll have this done in a short while.”

#

Why was this happening? I’m a working man not a toddler. This shouldn’t be happening.

It felt like my body was ablaze with humiliation as she wiped across my penis and balls. I could see she was about to say something but changed her mind and just decided to say how nice, clean and dry I’d be before too long.

I could have done with one of those chocolates and, as if reading my mind, she picked one out and handed it to me. “To take your mind off things...”

I sighed and, as she pulled the entire damp thing away “Lift up sweetie... erm... I mean please Anthony” instantly slipped the fresh nappy under my bum.

I did and she quickly manoeuvred it into place, rubbed in some lotion followed by a sprinkling of powder.

“Best not have too much, don’t want everyone wondering who smells of talc now do we.”

By then I’d managed to unwrap the sweet and popped it into my mouth to slowly let it melt on my tongue. It’s my favourite way of eating chocolate. It did ease some of my anxieties.

She pulled the fabric edges up between my legs and across my lower abdomen and, after a bit of tugging and realigning, pinned them tightly together with a couple of huge pins with blue plastic covers over the ends.

“Is that OK?”

I nodded but it felt different from when mum does it.

“Good, well nearly done.” She then reached over and pulled out what I assumed were a packet of plastic pants. I was correct.

She used her teeth to rip open the seal and jiggled out three huge pairs of glass-like covers.

“Well, these aren’t what I was expecting but it’s what your mother left so...”

Again my voice, although inwardly crying out in protest, remained stoically silent to anyone else. Also I’d reached the centre of the chocolate and a sweet, sticky orangey flavour burst on to my tongue. Mmmmmmm that tastes sooo good.

At the same moment she shuffled the slippery plastic up my legs, the dry thick material clearly visible under cover and squeezed all the excess air out before indicating I could put my trousers back on.

I stood up and couldn’t get over how different a dry nappy felt, it seemed to hang differently as well but under the vinyl pants all I could identify were the folds and pins.

#

She watched in fascination as I nervously dragged my pants up. There was a slight feeling of extra padding but otherwise she’d done a good job. Although I was horrified by what had just happened, I was also appreciative of being out of a soaked nappy. Whenever I was put into a nappy I had these mixed feelings - annoyed yet appreciative.

She slipped the used wet items into a plastic bag.

“You need to come and collect this before you go home tonight... your mother will be expecting them.”

At that moment I simply nodded as if I was a schoolboy and been told I could take home some project made in class to be admired by the family.

In fact, the entire procedure had me thinking back to being a kid and the times I’d been scared by a storm and my wetting returned. Although most of the earlier occasions were sketchy I remembered some where we never knew just how long the problem would last.  Damp patches appeared without warning and then so did saturated pull-ups or nappies, which meant I was changed in assorted places as mum or dad made sure I didn’t sit around in soggy stuff for too long.

“Ermm, thank you... erm...” I didn’t know whether to call her Paula or Mrs Dewhurst. Using her Christian name seemed a bit too familiar and disrespectful considering what had just taken place.

I left her office and the eyes of the team where on me. “No raise I’m afraid... mum just checking on my holiday entitlements.” It was the best excuse I could come up with on the spur of the moment.

The rest of the day passed without incident or comment and I was glad to get my bus home, armed with my secret shame in a plastic bin bag. The day had been peculiar and as the journey continued I began to chuckle to myself. Incredibly, I’d been changed by the boss. I’d had a chocolate shoved in my mouth to keep me occupied, reminiscent of the times mum would slide a dummy in to keep me quiet when I had a change. Weird or what?

Despite the strange circumstance I was glad to be in a dry nappy, it made such a difference to how I worked and reacted to those around me. To be candid, a soggy wet nappy is not nice to sit around in so no matter how excruciating the change was, I was very grateful.

Most of the time I forgot I was wearing anything but when I did there was a surge of relief. No one mentioned anything but I was in a peculiar mental situation - I’d just been changed by my boss and hadn’t objected; that was just plain crazy. Also, the fact that the office was on a high because we’d finished the project on time and management had been very impressed by our department and the speed we’d turned things around. The fact I’d been part of that success filled me with pride. I may have had my doubts earlier that morning but mum had been correct, wearing a nappy to the office had not hindered my work in any way.

It had been quite an unusual day and I found myself smiling at what transpired, which would make it difficult to be angry with mum when I got home.

#

The bus ride was uneventful and although I noticed the larger bulge I refrained from playing with it, I didn’t want to raise the indignation of any other passenger.

The weather had been pleasant all day and I noticed a lot of summery clad people out and about. I hated wearing a shirt and tie, always had, but dad had convinced me that when working in the environment I did, looking smart gave the correct impression.

Thankfully, the office under Mrs Dewhurst jurisdiction only insisted on smart casual but a suit was quite permissible should that be your thing. I only wore my suit for the first week after that it was much more relaxed attire. So, having spent the day in a shirt and tie and heavier than normal dark wool trousers I was looking forward to shedding the lot and slipping into my favoured t-shirt and shorts.

#

When I got home there was only Jenny in the kitchen finishing her tea.

“Where is everyone?”

“Dad’s not home yet and mum’s visiting Mrs Symanski.” She said before piling more salad on her fork.

Mrs Symanski is a pensioner who lives a few doors down from us and who mum does the shopping for.

“Oh” was my spot on comment.

“There’s tuna salad in the fridge and I can put some garlic bread on if you want to go and change.” She said helpfully.

“Mmmm, that would be great. I’m sweating like a pig in all this.”

“You do know you could undo your tie when not at work don’t you?”

This simple suggestion made me realise just how bright my fourteen year old sister actually was. It had simply not occurred to me on my sweaty journey home.

“Boys?” She said dismissing me and searching for the garlic bread in the freezer.

It didn’t click that she hadn’t said “Men?” until I got up to my room and that was only when I’d taken off my pants. Briefly I felt annoyed she hadn’t said Men but then I saw in the mirror my shiny underwear and decided I had no reason to be annoyed with her at all.

Why mum had bought these particularly revealing plastic covers I didn’t know but I just shrugged and decided it couldn’t matter less. They held the fabric together nicely and didn’t crinkle too much under my pants.

I put everything away and then checked that I was still watertight, I was. I slipped on a pair of loose white nylon P.E. shorts and a black t-shirt I used to wear for gym at school and headed back to the kitchen. By then Jenny had gone but set out on the table was my salad and a large slice of garlic bread, which was something I really liked. She’d also poured a glass of juice and cleared her own stuff away.

#

As I ate I felt quite comfortable sat in the still dry thickness of the nappy Mrs Dewhurst had put me in. The bulge in the shorts was quite pronounced but, as I had no plans on visiting anyone was happy how I was for the rest of the evening. The slippery glassy cover could be made out under the shorts but I was just pleased to be released from the restrictions of office clothes.

I saw Jenny out in the back garden under a parasol enjoying the early evening sunshine. It was still quite lovely so picked up my plate and drink and headed to the small table outside to take my meal al fresco.  

She’s four years my junior and now almost as tall as me but the difference between us is considerable. Jenny has always had a thing about fashion and looking good, and, even as a schoolgirl exudes sophistication and confidence. Laying in the sun now she looked terrific, like she was posing for the cover of one of her fashion magazines. Here I was, dressed in my old school P.E. outfit, more or less the complete opposite of style. She didn’t mind, in fact, she’d never been one to criticise me or my ‘problems’.

As I shovelled in a forkful of lettuce and tuna I saw she had her eyes closed and even the way she was laid out had a touch of finesse. My younger sister was destined, especially as she had brains as well, for an unbelievable future... or so the family anticipated.

It seemed that from being a twelve year old flat chested schoolgirl to the now pert-busted young lady had been a natural development that had passed me by. She looked stunning and I’d heard there were already a number of seniors flocking around in the hope of becoming her boyfriend.

#

When she was three and we were camping and sharing the same tent compartment, not only did she not wake up during the storm she never said a thing when we both ended up being put into nappies. Now I think about it her seven year old brother was wearing protection for longer than she was.

Then, throughout my history of suddenly needing protection, she’d never once thrown that fact in my face, used it as ammunition or tried to belittle me because of it. She’d always seemed to understand. Over the years she’s seen me at various ages suddenly wearing a nappy but like mum and dad, just accepted the fact and realised it didn’t need a comment.

I should also say that it was her encouragement that got me the job I’m in now. Two years ago, mum, Jenny and I were on a shopping excursion in town. It was the school summer holidays but mum wanted us to look for clothes for the new term.  She’d gone off to pay some bills or something and to prevent us getting bored the two of us ended up at Burger King for a milkshake.

I have to admit that both my parents thought I should pursue more academic studies but I’d told Jenny in confidence that I was, despite not being a complete dummy, hating school more and more each day. She said that I should look for work to see what was on offer.

“If it involves computers and,” she said with a grin, “not too physical, go for it.”

I took her advice and within four weeks I’d found the trainee job where I am now and I’d never been happier. Had it been left to mum and dad, I’d be still in school and resenting every minute. Although not completely on board with my decision they saw I was determined and when I secured the position couldn’t really insist any more.

However, there was a drawback, I suddenly started wetting the bed which I presumed was the anxiety after the interview though before I started work. That’s when mum bought me pull-ups to sleep in and hopefully keep the wetting under some control because during the day I was fine but at night... no chance. Once I started work my sixteen year old anxiety levels increased and so did the amount I seemed to pee so for a couple of weeks my night-ware had a thick nappy with plastic pants as its base. Thankfully though... no daytime wetting.

#

I wasn’t sure why the memories were so strong but all the times I’d been put back into pull-ups or nappies came flooding into my mind. When I thought even more on the subject it was apparent that Jenny had grown up over the years whilst I had, apart from getting a job, stayed more or less the same; same physique, same choice of clothes, same enjoyment of stupid, silly computer games. To say my development was stunted (I hardly had any body hair) and the fact my penis hadn’t advanced the same way as Jenny’s breasts had flourished made me wonder why. However, just a quick look down at the thick fabric bulge under my shorts surely explained everything. I was still locked in some sort of childhood battle with thunder and lightning... and the elements were winning.

# # #

...to be continued

 

[Pierry Louys]

My poor Antony that was embarrassing being changed and treated like a toddler by his boss , now what gonna happen in his home when bedtime comes with his mommy ? I sense she gonna be a little overprotective and gonna baby him a little like given him a teddy or a dummy to help him get trough his fear of thunder !