Les Lea Posted December 27, 2020 Author Share Posted December 27, 2020 Thanks Maly... glad it's keeping you entertained. ? Link to comment
Les Lea Posted January 1, 2021 Author Share Posted January 1, 2021 Part 19 I woke up to find Jenny standing over me and asking if I was OK. I was just emerging from a deep dream where mum and I were sat on a bench looking out to sea with a storm noisily crashing around us. Incredibly, we were both sat crossed-legged because we thought if our feet didn’t touch the ground then the lightning couldn’t strike us. We were also cowered under a large colourful golfing umbrella with a metal spike... but that seemed quite normal. I felt my shoulder being shaken. “Ant, Ant, are you OK?” Jen sounded alarmed and concerned. “Mmm... errr, whattt, ummm....” “You’re making a lot of noise... more than usual anyway.” It took me a few seconds to determine I was no longer in my dream where I was huddled up close to mum and crying because I was scared of the thunder. “Oh, erm, sorry Jen, I, er, er...” “You sounded really frightened. I’ve never heard you making such...” I wasn’t actually crying like I was in the dream but could feel my heart racing so knew I was troubled about something. “I was in the middle of a storm. I, errruuuummm...” It was taking me a little while to get myself under control but at least now I was awake Jen didn’t look so panicked. However, I still wasn’t sure what was going on except I could feel my nappy was sodden but that wasn’t unusual first thing in the morning. It hadn’t occurred to me that the main light was on and it was still night. I looked at the bedside clock, the clear blue numbers indicated it was still only 2.13, for some reason that particular time made me shiver and I felt another spurt of pee enter my soaked padding. I saw Jen shrug her shoulders waiting for me to say something and as I became more aware of my circumstances. “What type of noise?” “I don’t know... I was just coming back from the loo and you... well... it just seemed you were really scared of something. Not like the usual noises you make,” she added with a quick smile. “I don’t make noises.” I said indignantly. “Yer, sure, Mr Silent Sleeper you ain’t.” She said sarcastically and toddled back to her own room. She left me alone and after a couple of minutes I threw back the sheet and checked in case I’d leaked. As usual, all was safely contained but I didn’t want to return to sleep knowing I had a sopping wet nappy so waddled to the dresser and took out some wipes. The new package of Dino disposables lay open by the side of the wardrobe. I decided wipes wouldn’t be enough so grabbed one of my wonderful, cheery disposables and headed to the bathroom. I turned on the main light to checked myself. The plastic pants were OK but the white thick fabric underneath was saturated. It’s strange that since mum had bought these extra thick night time nappies (as she’d called them) I had used them to their fullest and became quite grateful they could take the excess liquid I seemed to produce. However, the pins were fiddly so no wonder I was always pleased when someone else did my change. Despite this drawback, I managed and threw the soaked thing into the laundry basket (the one reserved only for my stuff) and sponged myself down with warm water instead of the cold wet-wipes mum often used. # Once cleaned up properly, I applied lotion and powder, slipped into a nice thick Dinosaur nappy and felt pretty good that at least for the rest of the night I’d be dry. I decided that a pair of clear vinyl pants should then be enough to keep me safe for what remained of the night. As I waddled back mum was standing on the landing in her nightie obviously awaken by my various noises. “Is everything alright Anthony?” Mum looked tired and drawn but perhaps anyone would at two-thirty in the morning. “Fine mum,” I forced a smile, “just needed a change.” She gave a small smile as she checked out my cheerful disposable, perhaps knowing how much I enjoyed wearing them. “Night then love... but I do have something I need to chat to you about in the morning.” “Do you want to talk now?” “No sweetie it can wait. You get back to sleep and we’ll chat later.” I shrugged. “OK, night mum.” I watched mum return to her and dad’s room before I waddled back to my own. The soft rustling that accompanied each movement made me smile. Back in my bedroom I slipped effortlessly under the covers, the new disposable giving me a pleasant crinkle as I settled down. I ran my hand over the soft but welcoming fabric completely forgetting the need for plastic pants. I quickly fell asleep stroking the front, enjoying the impressive bulge and wondering what mum needed to chat about. My dream was of me in exactly the same place as I was before Jen woke me up, only this time I was sat on a bench on my own. I was wearing just the Dino disposable because the weather was hot and the people as they passed nodded and smiled and I felt at peace with the world. The thing was I knew I wasn’t eighteen any more. Eventually, I joined in with a group of small kids who were playing down on the beach, the beach me and mum had visited, and set about building sandcastles. Judging by the remarks and looks I was getting, jovial though they were, I knew I was only a toddler to their eyes... but it didn’t worry me. I giggled and pulled at the sand to cover my legs and just left the dinosaurs on display because we’d made a game... it made no sense but these cartoon creatures somehow played an important part. We were all having a fantastic time - shouting, screeching and laughing. It was fun. # It was just after nine when I woke up. Mum had come into my bedroom and told me that breakfast would be on the table in ten minutes. With the smell of bacon already wafting up from the kitchen she knew I would never miss a Saturday morning fry-up. I flipped my legs from under the cover and was happy to see I was still dry, those little dinosaurs still cheerily chasing each other around the bulging fabric. Deciding to wear them for the rest of the day (or until they were too soggy) I grabbed a pair of clear vinyl pants off the dresser and pulled them up, followed by a pair of white polyester gym shorts and headed downstairs. Dad and Jenny were already dressed both looked like they had made arrangements for a trip out somewhere and wondered if I’d missed some important plans. “Going anywhere nice?” I asked as I took my seat next to Jen. Mum was plating up the bacon and eggs. I noticed that she’d also got scrambled egg on toast for Jen, because she kept an eye on her youthful, but fast maturing figure. “Dad’s got a meeting in Manchester later this morning so I’ve cadged a lift for me and Claire to go over and do a bit of shopping.” “Is Claire coming here?” I liked Claire she was very funny and the only one of Jenny’s friends I could actually speak to without feeling I was being judged. Not that her other friends said much, it was more a feeling and the odd surreptitious look that made me uncomfortable around most of them. “No, we’re picking her up on the way... but we’ll get the train back as dad doesn’t know what time he’ll finish.” Mum slid the plates in front of us all. “You be careful young lady and make sure you’ve got your phone... I want regular texts please.” “Yes mum.” Like all teenagers she was in despair over the attention parents had over her movements. “Yes well, let me know what train you’re on...” “Yes mum,” she shrugged in annoyance but really knew mum was looking out for her and wasn’t really angry. “That goes for you as well,” she nodded towards dad. “Let me know when we can expect you back.” “Yes mum,” Dad did a comic impression of Jen and we all laughed. “That just leaves me and you sweetie, have you got any plans?” “No not really. I messaged Peter last night and he said he might come over this afternoon but wasn’t sure.” The rest of the meal past with similar inconsequential chat. # When they’d left and it was just me and mum I could tell something was disturbing her because of the way she looked at me. Finally, as she finished washing up and I dried the dishes she asked me to sit down as she had something to talk to me about. “Last night Laura Ames called.” I nodded but said nothing. “She said she’d been reviewing your case from when she first saw you at seven... and... compared them with what she knew now.” I could see mum was getting a bit uncomfortable. “She didn’t accuse you of being the reason I wet did she because that’s...” “No, no, erm, nothing like that... she, er, um, wants to do some tests.” “What kind of tests?” I asked suspiciously. Those stupid ink-blot cards immediately sprung to mind, which I’d always thought were stupid and not very scientific way of gauging people’s innermost thoughts. Mum was reticent to say anything further but obviously, now she’d started the conversation couldn’t leave it there. “She wants to test the functions of your brain... she wants to give it a scan.” I was a bit slow on the uptake. “What do you mean... a scan?” “I think she thinks there is more than just a psychological reason for your problem.” Mum looked pained at saying this. Not only that but it all sounded serious and a cold shiver ran down my back, immediately followed by a hot flush into the disposable. # I sat slightly numb (and wet) as mum tried to placate my worries. “She said it might be some kind of hormonal imbalance... or something...” “But she wants to wire me up?” I asked incredulously. “I think it’s more about ruling certain things out rather than anything else... and...” I didn’t like the sound of that AND. “... there’s something else about when you were a toddler and we were on holiday in France all those years ago...” Mum looked uneasy... and why had she changed the subject? “You mean when I got scared of the thunder storm.” I knew what she meant but certain aspects of that trip were forgotten, well by me at least. “Yes love...” she paused before continuing. “This is awkward but... with the storm the whole thing was pretty scary for you but we eventually managed to get you off to sleep and we thought that was all fine.” She came and sat down beside me and held my hand. “With you asking about it, and Laura mentioning it, I’ve been forced to relive something else that happened that night that I really hadn’t given much thought to for all these years... and now I feel so guilty for not knowing...” I could see mum was struggling with an explanation of some kind but I didn’t want to interrupt even though my stomach was in knots wondering what this huge ‘guilty thing’ was. “With the storm came a great deal of rain and because we were camped near the river, the management of the campsite warned us that the levels could rise considerably and advised everyone nearby to move to higher ground.” She looked at me still with that pained expression on her face. “We’d already packed quite a bit of our equipment in the car so dad thought we might as well pack everything and, with the prospect of flooding, get away from that valley and start the journey home early.” # “Mum, what’s the problem, why are you still feeling guilty over something that happened...” I mentally counted backwards, “fifteen years ago?” “Well, as I said, you were fast asleep and I was so grateful you didn’t have to worry about all the panic going on around us because folk started evacuating the area... and moving and such... we were just happy you were out for the count.” “Mum, just tell me... I...” I was annoyed because I suddenly felt my bum hole offer no resistance to a silent fart and the threat of worse but I didn’t want her to not finish her story. “I was carrying you to the car, to fasten you into your booster seat and have you safely ensconced in the dry and out of the way so we could finish the packing. When, as I grabbed the handle, a huge gust of wind caught hold and blew it wide open. It hit me still carrying you, and sent me for six.” I looked to her to wonder why this was such a catastrophe. I saw her unconsciously rubbing her arm. “I got quite a whack and had a bruised arm for ages but I thought my body had protected you because you slept right through it.” “So?” “Well sweetheart, you slept all the way from the campsite to Calais...” I looked at her wondering what she was insinuating. “We were just grateful you were sleeping even if it was for such a long time. We reasoned that your fear of the storm had taken it out of you and...” “Mum, do you think I was injured?” She nodded guiltily. “Yes sweetheart. We were young and I didn’t know any better but I fear you may well have also been hit by that flying door and I hadn’t noticed.” She had tears in her eyes now and I felt my nappy rapidly filling with extra pee and poop... I was shaking and feeling like a three year old because I didn’t know what to say or do. “Last night I discussed the possibilities with your father, who knew nothing about any of that other than I got a bruise from somewhere. Because you were asleep for so long he suggested there was a chance you might have actually have been concussed or something so to call Laura back and get her professional opinion. I did and she suggested... a full scan.” I burst in to tears. “Oh sweetie, don’t be scared it’s not painful it’s...” She wasn’t sure what it was but anyway, I wasn’t listening. All I was aware of was the fact I felt helpless because of the full disposable that clung to my groin. It was like I was three all over again and needed someone to come and change me. My anxiety level maxed out and I could hear a mewling sound and noticed my thumb in my mouth. # It only lasted a few seconds but that feeling of being totally helpless had to have been one of the strangest experiences I’d ever had... and I’d been having a few of them recently. Even though sitting down I could feel the weight and mess splurging around. Mum was trying to calm my sudden dissolve into tears though she must have thought the idea of having a scan was the reason. I don’t think it was because for a brief moment my mind had gone blank and a pain had shot through my head like I’d never experienced before. I sat with mum for a few minutes, whilst she tried her best to reassure me once again that all was well and I had nothing to fear because mummy was here. I was grateful to her hand that slowly stroked my hair and hugged me at the same time. “OK love, I think we’d better get you into something...” “Sorry mum, I don’t know what happened.” I softly spoke into her bosom where my head was nestling. “Not to worry love, it’s a strange time and I fear I might have been...” Again she didn’t finish her sentence but she held my hand and guided me back up to my room. The mess in my nappy reminding me with each step how thankful I was to have been wearing such good protection. # I came back from the shower clean and refreshed and feeling a lot better. I’d had time to think about the proposed neurological tests and decided, after what mum had revealed, it might be better than the psyche evaluation. Of course mum was waiting for me as I continued to towel dry my hair but for the first time in ages she hadn’t got anything laid out and ready. “Anthony love, erm, you’ve had quite a lot to take in and I’m wondering if you’d prefer to wear something, ummm, different today. Something less, erm, protective.... you know... something... like you wore when we went to the coast.” I hadn’t clocked that was why she was standing by the dresser with the underwear drawer open. She fished in and produced a pair of white briefs and one of the pairs of microfibre trunks. “Maybe one of these?” She offered. I could see, for the first time, mum was feeling guilty about putting me in nappies. She was desperate to make some kind of amends and thought this small gesture was perhaps the start. She brought both pairs of pants over to me and offered me the choice. “Mum, it’s not your fault that I wet and certainly not your fault that I messed my...” “But sweetie, how do we know?” I mean, I might have thought I was doing it for your own good but in fact, it was easier because you’ve never once reacted against it.” “Exactly mum, you know it has never bothered me... well... I don’t remember it ever having done... but the point is... I feel safer knowing I’m well covered and these...” I said offering up my white briefs, “offer no security at all.” Mum shrugged but I could tell she wasn’t happy. I don’t think it was with me but she sighed as I went and pulled a large terry cotton nappy (with the extra absorbent gusset), and said I didn’t want to fight her but I needed this to feel secure. She sighed but smiled and said that if I was sure. “Let’s get it on you then as we can all live without you parading around with no clothes on.” Strange that apart from a towel loosely draped around my shoulders I’d not realised I was completely naked throughout our conversation. It hadn’t bothered either of us because I was used to mum seeing me this way and ready to get me nicely fastened tightly in to my welcoming padding. The nappy was thick and for the briefest of moments the towel I’d been dressed in as a three year-old flashed into my head followed by that awful pain. “Uuurrggg,” I shuddered, blacked out and fell to the floor. # # # ...to be continued 7 2 Link to comment
Pierry Louys Posted January 1, 2021 Share Posted January 1, 2021 Wow what a chapter !!! Curious to see what gonna happen next Link to comment
wetatnight 2 Posted January 1, 2021 Share Posted January 1, 2021 great story so far more please Link to comment
maly Posted January 1, 2021 Share Posted January 1, 2021 Poor Anthony, it's looking like it might be serious. Maly. Link to comment
Sarah Penguin Posted January 2, 2021 Share Posted January 2, 2021 O)h no. Worried too. Link to comment
Les Lea Posted January 2, 2021 Author Share Posted January 2, 2021 Thanks everybody... really glad you're all staying with me on this. It has all been fun and easy going... but... what will the medics make of an eighteen year-old incontinent?? 1 1 Link to comment
Pierry Louys Posted January 2, 2021 Share Posted January 2, 2021 2 hours ago, Les Lea said: Thanks everybody... really glad you're all staying with me on this. It has all been fun and easy going... but... what will the medics make of an eighteen year-old incontinent?? Yeah really curious to see if his incontinece is really because something fisical or just psicologic! I hope is psicologic that he really wants to be mommy little boy forever so he can get cuddles and affection 1 Link to comment
Les Lea Posted January 8, 2021 Author Share Posted January 8, 2021 Part 20 I was only out for a few seconds but could see the fear in mum’s eyes as she held me when I came round. There was still a nagging ache in my head but not the spike I’d just experienced. Mum and I sat on the floor, me wearing only the thick nappy she’d just pinned on but she was shaking more than I was. Seeing how distressed she was I tried to make light of it. “That was new.” I just got hugged tighter. “Mum, I’m OK now... don’t worry, it’ll be alright.” Yes I know, I was echoing the many times mum had said that to me. Eventually I gently wrestled myself free from her strong embrace and saw just how badly the last few minutes had affected her. “What, what if it is all my fault?” She swallowed hard thinking what her actions might have caused. “I neglected to check on my little baby boy... and look...” The tears fell, she looked old, defeated, lost... but I wanted to keep mum’s spirits up like she had always done mine. “Mum, don’t blame yourself... wait until we’re sure... and then I can blame you.” I gave her a sideways glance so she knew I was joking. She smiled and ruffled my hair. “Are you sure you’re OK?” “Well, let’s get up and see.” We struggled to our feet but seemed able to stand without propping each other up. “Look, let me get dressed and I’ll see you downstairs in a minute OK?” I just wanted a few minutes on my own to assess what had just happened but without seeing mum looking so troubled. “OK sweetheart, if you’re sure you’re OK, I’ve got a call to make.” She ambled from my room but I knew she was going to try and contact Doctor Ames. This last couple of days seemed to have aged her and I didn’t like it. Not being her usual sunny and effusive self was not how I wanted my mother to be. For both our sakes we had to get to the bottom of all this soon. # I looked out of my bedroom window at the mid-morning scene and was surprised to see how busy it all was. It’s easy to think when it’s only me, or mum and me, then that’s the world, but the truth is, life doesn’t stop just because you’re having problems. Now I was attuned to what was going on outside the noise was most welcome. Kids were playing in the street, riding bikes or shuffling along on skateboards. A bunch of teenagers were bouncing a ball and obviously heading for a game of footy. A couple of women with toddlers were chatting by the stump of what’s left of the lightning tree. Joggers and pram pushers, dog walkers and deliverymen, young, old, male and female - all people going about their business with their own cares and worries but still ‘just getting on with it’. I ran my hand over the soft fullness of my fresh nappy and realised I was just getting on with it as well, only my getting on with it included a thick, thick nappy, which perhaps should have worried me but didn’t. I was surprised that the blackout had had such little effect on me. I mean, of course it did have an effect; I did have a headache but was more worried about mum than myself. Thankfully, the soft cushion of padding had calmed and soothed any anxiety like it had always done. Mum was taking a lot of grief on herself for something that happened all those years ago and I’d seen the guilt etched in her features. I’m sure dad and Jen had noticed but perhaps were too polite to mention it. Although, maybe they had and I just didn’t know it. In fact, she was blaming herself for everything that has happened to me since then and, despite my joke, I couldn’t let her take that much blame. Perhaps it was simply that I liked nappies? There, I’ve said it. I picked up a pair of blue plastic pants and pulled them over the soft fabric and then found the holiday pair of blue shorts and a darker blue sweat shirt. I felt comfortable once I’d fished a pair of blue trainers from under my bed and checked myself out in the mirror. The guy looking back may appear young but there was a hint of determination that had not often been there. I wasn’t sure what I was determined about but not going... I heard mum answer a knock at the front door, which cut into my train of thought, when she shouted up... “Peter’s here.” “OK, coming.” And I went down to greet my friend. # Pete and I have been mates for over ten years. We were at school and in the same class together and he’s probably the only friend from school I still meet up with. He knows about my wearing nappies because he used to sleep over fairly regularly when we were kids. His mum and dad were going through a divorce and he sought (and received) sanctuary at our house. I think both his parents were glad he had a friend he could rely on and get him away from their constant bickering. I’ve never tried to hide the fact that sometimes (I don’t want you thinking I was permanently attached to a nappy), if things got on top of me (besides storms), I wet the bed. I never hid it from him. To begin with he was shy about it, then got curious and finally tried it overnight when we were eleven. It was quite a thrill to see someone else my age wearing a nappy but I didn’t tell him that only alluded to the fact that I thought he looked OK. I woke up wet, he didn’t and as far as I know, his curiosity was satisfied because he never asked to try them again. Also, as far as I know, he’s never let on to anyone else. I checked in with mum and she was still on the phone although indicated by mime she’d be OK if I went out. Pete now lived at home with his mum (dad long gone) and a new baby sister, thanks to his mother’s boyfriend Sam. Although there’s talk of marriage no date has yet been set and Pete isn’t the biggest fan of his mum’s choice. However, it’s not because of anything he’s said or done, in fact he’s quite an amiable guy. I think Pete thinks no one is good enough for his mother and after the last disaster doesn’t want her to end up with another ‘wrong ‘un’. However, he loves his little sister and I suppose he’ll want her to have a proper mum and dad. Anyway, we didn’t have anything particularly planned so we just wandered around in the pleasant weather catching up. I had a lot to tell him and he seemed fascinated about the tree strike. Of course he knew about it, everyone in our area did, but he hadn’t observed the event like I had. Once I started on about the consequences to my witnessing the event he wondered how I’d coped at all with constantly wet pants. Of course I had to reveal that I still needed more than a pair of tighty-whities to combat the flood and showed him (privately) the plastic pants hiding my thick personal protection. “Hell that looks comfy.” He said with a smile, whilst idly patting my slightly bulky bottom. I laughed back in agreement. I like Pete a lot. # We walked up and past the stump and said our hellos to the folk we knew. In fact, I’m not sure whether the slight bulge under my shorts was noticeable but didn’t see any reaction as we passed by. I was enjoying the rub of the thick cotton as we sauntered along and could feel the plastic of my pants slide against the fabric of my shorts... it gave me a little buzz. Although he was my best friend I didn’t mention that I was seeing a psychiatrist or that I might need my brain tested, I didn’t want him to think I was in some way damaged goods. Peter’s a good few inches taller than me and was wearing jeans with rips at the knee. He’s always fashionable and had, as far as I remember, quite a following from the girls in class. He wasn’t overly sporty except in one area, swimming, where he was unbelievably quick. We had a small school team that went into competitions but in truth, we only had Pete, who usually won his heats. I have a photograph of him and me somewhere, he’s wearing his tiny green school Speedos, we’re fourteen and I’m hugging him as he’d just won a final. It’s strange that I’d never thought about it until that moment, but I suppose he was a bit of a hero as well as a friend. Pete’s main gossip was that he had got Catherine, his little sister, to say her first word ‘Pee’, which he was convinced was her trying to say his name. Also he was dreading having to go off to University if he got the results expected and leaving mum to, well, be without him for the first time in their lives. “You don’t have any jobs going at your place do you?” He asked as a sort of general enquiry, but I wasn’t sure he meant it. “Not that I know of in our little section but,” I looked to see if he was serious, “I can always ask if you’d like me to.” “I envy you... you know... actually having a job. If I go to uni for three years and then have to start looking... you know I have absolutely no idea what I want to do...” He sounded exasperated with having to think about his future. I was slightly taken aback by the fact he said he envied me. A shiver of pleasure shot up my spine but decided best not to make too much of it. “Well perhaps you can go into teaching babies to talk.” I humorously volunteered. “Well I have learned to change a nappy so, you know where to come if you need...” he patted my padding. We both sort of laughed but this was the first time he’d mentioned my nappies as such and I began to wonder what that would be like. Hell, the office changes me so... what would it be like if...? Uh-oh... how the hell did that happen? This was a strange sensation because it had never happened at any time when I’d been changed in the office by my work mates. There was no build up, there was no warning but there was a warm splurge in my nappy, which I hoped I didn’t have to explain. I quickly rearranged my padding for more comfort. Then felt guilty for imagining such a thing and hoped Pete hadn’t noticed my excitement at his suggestion. As it was he hadn’t really wanted a job he just craved someone to talk to about his fears so between us, we had one hell of a ramble... both physically and verbally. We must have spent a good couple of hours just wandering around and despite my recent blackout didn’t feel all that bad. Although, I did feel my nappy getting warm as we passed the lightning tree stump for the second time. However, I was heading home so no need to worry. Giggling at their own bravery there were two little kids jumping on and off the newly levelled remnant. I could tell they were both thickly padded and wondered if they were also wet like me. Surely it wasn’t just me that the tree, even in its current state, had an effect on. Pete had to do something with his mother and sister that afternoon, so arranged to see each other later in the week... schoolwork permitting. # Until I got in and chatted to mum I hadn’t realised how long it had been since I’d had a really good long talk with anyone other than family and work mates. In the past couple of years, since getting a job, I think I can count the times that I’d met up with any of my school mates on one hand. I’m not sure if this was my doing or theirs, all I do know is that Peter is the only one I see now. In all our up-dating I’d forgotten to mention seeing Trinny and her fashion faux pas as she walked along the beach after having sex with her boyfriend. It made me smile as I remembered the scene and knew it would have had Pete in stitches. However, that would have to wait because mum came up and told me that she and Doctor Ames had been talking and the blackout had moved things on. She was able to organise a session at the hospital with a neurologist for Tuesday afternoon. Typical of mum, she’d already called Mrs Dewhurst to clear me taking Monday and Tuesday off. I wasn’t sure how much she told her but wanted to keep an eye on me until the doctor had checked everything out. It seemed things had moved on a pace since I’d been out and it had all been done without any consultation with me and to be honest, I was feeling a tad annoyed. I know, I know, I’ve been acting like a little kid for some time now so why would I think I should be involved now... but I was. However, there looked to be some sign of relief on mum’s face now she had things underway, so I said nothing. Also, and this is another point, I was wet and needed mum to take care of it like she’d always done. Now wasn’t the time to tell her I was an eighteen year old adult who should be making his own decisions. # On Sunday we had a downpour, which seemed to signal the end of summer. In fact, the ground had got so dry there was flooding in various towns, villages and cities right across the country. We were fine, well, except that a local electrical substation somehow got flooded and took the power out for several hours. Mum, me and Jen played board games, whilst dad grumbled that his one day off (when he had planned to play golf) had been ruined. Jen also beat us all at Monopoly, which I’m sure just added to his woe. As usual, I was still wearing shorts around the house to conceal my nappy but added a t-shirt and jumper as the temperature had dropped a little. So, apart from the weather nothing much changed. The family had been brought up to date about my blackout and the fact that I was going for some tests. Mum let Jenny in on the reasons she was so worried, my sister’s reply was “Well I hope you never dropped me.” She was joking of course but I saw mum stiffen a little before her own reply. “I did but you just bounced.” Both dad and Jen asked if I was nervous about these tests and I said “No not really” but the constant wet nappy meant I was but tried to put on a brave face. The thing was, mum had insinuated that when I was three I may well have suffer some kind of brain trauma and that information had sent more than a little flurry of worry down my spine and into my bladder. Certainly, over the last few weeks, things had happened I couldn’t explain though in general I thought I’d managed quite well. Mum also must have thought so because she never said anything (although might have suspected something, only not what she was now faced with). The wearing of a nappy has never been a problem, nor have plastic pants, so that’s something I just accepted... but now? Was it all connected? Well, now they wanted to check my brain and I’d had a blackout so... were things getting worse? Mum didn’t want me to go anywhere without one of the family being around just in case of another blackout, which was OK with me as I had no plans. However, that meant I had more time to myself and the internet can be a terrible thing if you start looking up ‘symptoms’. So I went up to my room, sat at the computer and started searching for... I wasn’t sure what but, as I was sitting in a nice thick nappy and clear plastic pants, I felt completely at ease. However, surfing the net was a huge mistake because Sunday evening, I read about something called Hydrocephalus, and decided that was what I had. I have to admit that by this time I’d scanned so much I was more than a little confused and might have been attributing ailments and symptoms to both opinions and medical facts, not a good combination in my view. However, I’d taken so much ‘info’ in and not separated the various sites, by the end I was sure that: incontinence, lack of sleep, blackouts, memory loss, anxiety and the weather were all down to this one thing – Hydrocephalus. Of course I had no idea if that was the case but it scared me so much that I inadvertently filled my nappy without knowing I had until I got up and felt the mess I’d made. Even the smell only hit me once I moved and looked down at the front of my plastic pants which looked fine, yet I could feel the squishy mass dragging down the back. I picked up a couple of disposables as replacements and awkwardly made my way to the bathroom and hoped to clean myself up before anyone else noticed. I was quite embarrassed. # As Tuesday afternoon approached, and despite me saying to everyone I was OK, my nether regions were almost constantly wet. Thankfully, I’d had no further blackouts or memory problems. I tried to hide my apprehension but something else was telling my bladder otherwise. I arrived at the ‘Neurological Dept– Clinical observance’ and was greeted by Doctor Ames and Doctor Sanjid Mandip, who I took to straight away as he had a similar friendly accent as Mrs Patel at the office. Mum had insisted on being with me every step of the way, which was just as well because I needed a change before we entered the pristine white office. We did that in a handicapped toilet on the ground floor; thankfully no one was waiting when we exited. Over the past few days I’d tried to drink and eat as little as possible but I still managed to pee with alacrity. However, mum said it might be worse if I was dehydrated so insisted I took regular sips of water. I felt a little light-headed when I entered the office. After a few pleasantries the neurological doctor talked me through what was going to happen and what they could discern from these tests. The first thing was an EEG (Electroencephalography), which he said measured neuron activity. I pretended I knew and was fine about it all but in truth... wanted to run a mile. My original idea of just getting on with it disappearing leaving me mesmerised by all the electronic equipment. Laura Ames said she would ask some questions like she normally did and, with the helmet they’d placed on my head, would be able to see how my brain reacted. I tried to think back to episodes of House or Casualty or Grey’s Anatomy to see if I remembered anything but really, I just wanted to get it over with and then go home. Suddenly, I felt slightly afraid and wanted mummy, erm, mum but thankfully didn’t cry out for her, it was all in my head. Thoughts of Dr Brown Bear from Peppa Pig entered my head (I used to watch her with Jen when she was little) and I immediately felt less stressed. However, I was aware of the sensors in the helmet picking up on my brain waves and wondered if an image of Peppa and the doctor would appear on screen. I didn’t pursue that thought as Doctor Laura started her questions again. She’d told me we’d be going over some old ground but she wanted to see how my brain reacted. I was in her hands so mum watched, whilst Doctor Mandip monitored the, erm, monitor. At one point Laura asked if I used the nappy to masturbate, a question she’d never asked before, and one that took me by surprise. She assured me that it was a perfectly normal enquiry and no one would think any less if I did. I saw her watch the monitor as I thought about the question for a few seconds. My bladder flooded my nappy and I felt the warmth grow but wasn’t sure if it was from the stream of pee or embarrassment. Apparently, the monitor peaked for a moment but I answered that it happened occasionally but not usually. Of course I was trying not to think of my recent encounter with Peter but that was all I could think about. I just hoped they couldn’t tell. A host of other similar sexual questions followed which I answered as truthfully as I dare with mum looking on. She didn’t seem perturbed by any of them and neither did the doc who carried on regardless. I just sat there in a flooded nappy glad that my plastic pants were keeping me from leaking right there in hospital. I wouldn’t want them observing that in this observance unit. # After about thirty minutes she had images and a printout of my reactions and whilst she studied that and chatted to mum, I was escorted down the hall to the MRI unit for a scan. I was greeted there by a couple of nurses (or technicians) who again talked me through what was about to happen. As I slid into the chamber Doctor Mandip joined us and shielded himself in a little cubicle. I was given some headphones and told that as the machine can make people feel a bit claustrophobic there’d be music to help me relax and an emergency button should it all get too much for me. They asked me to lay as still as possible and they’d talk via the headphones if they needed me to move or if they were going to change any of the settings, so not to worry. I hadn’t had time to get a change so lay there in a saturated nappy hoping no one would be able to tell (I wasn’t certain exactly what an MRI could detect). Anyway, the music started to play and it was nursery rhymes set to music. I didn’t know if they were taking the piss or a young kid had been in there before me but that’s what I got. As it was, Doctor Brown Bear entered my thoughts again and the anxiety of being in such an enclosed space left me. I’m not sure how long I was in there for because I think I drifted off for a while but eventually the machine stopped and I was let out. # Back in Clinical Observance we all met up. I could see mum and Laura had been having a discussion whilst I was away. They had forced smiles on their faces so whatever had gone on must have been pretty intense. Their polite enquiries as to how it had gone were more for show than a need to know. I wondered what had been going on. Meanwhile, Doctor Mandip entered the room and had things fed through to another screen on his desk. He started pointing to an image of my brain from the scan, talking about ventro something or other here and prefrontal do-dahs there. I had no idea what an amygdala was (he even spelt it out but it didn’t help) but it seemed important. So, although the medical stuff passed me by, the upshot was... there was a dark stain on my brain. Brain damage immediately shot through my damaged brain. I was shaken but the doctor smiled and said I shouldn’t worry (how often had I been told that... and now... there was something definitely I needed to worry about). Apparently, it was an area that wasn’t reacting like normal but wasn’t a huge problem. However, they would study all these results together and plan a course of action if one was needed. ‘Of course action was needed’ my damaged brain screamed but I just sat there numb feeling my nappy gain even more weight. That’s when I must have passed out. My anxiety level had hit a peak and I came too with the doctor and a nurse faffing over me... unfortunately it wasn’t Doctor Brown Bear (that would have been fun) I was sucking my thumb and the low mewling was also coming from me sounding like a wounded kitten. Mum looked concerned but Doctor Laura had disappeared. Mum spoke to the doctor explaining this was exactly how I reacted as a three year-old when the storm scared me. He typed stuff into the computer and mumbled something about it explaining... I was still a bit zonked out but heard him say to her that it could be possible that whatever the injury was, certain information just wasn’t being transmitted or received and that possibly (and he kept stressing the possibility) my brain had found another pathway... and possibly (again) might be short-circuiting under stressful conditions....... There again, I may have dreamt all that and in fact none of it happened because moments later I woke up in a side room, on a doctor’s examination table, where mum was just finishing changing my nappy. “Oh sweetie... you’ve been through a lot today, let’s get you home.” The look of concern was back but so was the love that she always showed when changing me. “Have they done all they need to?” I quietly enquired. “For the moment love but they have to check a few more things. Having said that, the doctor says, they have all the information they need, they just need to pour over it to make a final diagnosis.” “What did Doctor Laura say?” “Do you need to know right now,” she sounded a bit drained so I just shook my head and, with a fresh thick nappy in place, we set off home. * * * Doctor Laura Ames Case AT - 20001 Notes and observations • Doctor Mandip has now checked the Neuroimaging and compared the readings against the MRI scan. He had my psychological report and witnessed for himself some of the problems that Anthony presented with. • The scan identified some damage to the cerebral cortex. A part of his brain has been impaired but the EEG confirmed that the nervous system controlling bladder functions appears to have remapped a course which can become short-circuited at times of stress. • Although the damage is small the scarring has suppressed these and possibly other, as yet unrealised, functions though synaptic activity still clearly registers. • Doctor Mendip is of the opinion that surgical action is not needed unless the patient’s symptoms markedly deteriorate. • This will be a relief to everyone. ~~~ • Anthony has recently been under extreme stress owing to witnessing a particularly violent thunder storm. This reaction related back to an undiagnosed head trauma he received when three years old during a similar event. • His parents were unaware of the trauma Anthony suffered, but it would appear that at times of high anxiety memory of that incident becomes the main focus and there is a return to this early juvenile state. • Anxiety, whether caused by weather conditions, fear or concern over day to day occurrences have led to a failure, in part, of the patient’s neurological impulses. Thus impairing his ability to control certain bodily functions, which in turn leads him to seek security and comfort in areas he feels safe. • This, together with the reinforcement over many years that the wearing of protection to control the problem is required, has indelibly stamped this course of action in his mind. • This is because, according to his mother, when his occasional bouts of incontinence started, it became the easiest form of security to administer. Therefore the first and quickest line of defence, which has not only become the norm but also the most desired. • Other than when he was three and his incontinence lasted for a number of months, he usually overcomes these bouts in a few weeks and is then back to wearing age appropriate underwear. This time, the constant and unexpected incontinence has increased in volume and duration. • Although he works with computers, in many ways Anthony, at eighteen years of age, still hasn’t really grown into full adulthood. He’s a likeable young man not known for displays of anger or temper tantrums. However, stress leaves him open to lack of bladder control, which may over the years have dented his self-confidence. • His reliance on his mother, which is a wonderful bond, is also one that may have led to the underdevelopment of his own abilities and the need to be looked after. She has never withheld in this area, always being keen to help and encourage her son... even still being the one to change his nappies. • Because of how long this method of coping with his periods of wetness has been going on, no one of the family is surprised to see an eighteen year-old wondering around the house wearing bulky protection. It is simply accepted. • The recent ‘blackouts’ can be assigned to the anxiety Anthony has experienced since the lightning strike, which I have to agree with his mother, appears to have been the main cause for his recent, more noticeable problems. The mental impact of this event now and in the past, cannot be understated. • Having spoken to his parents we have approved a process to try and get Anthony to recognise when anxiety arises and ways for him to calm and manage that apprehension. We need to guide him away from his dependence on protection and attempt to break the link between current worries and his childhood trauma. • My main diagnosis is that most of the recent ‘developments’ are psychosomatic undoubted brought on by the witnessing of the ‘close call’ lightning strike. We will develop new coping mechanisms for him to employ. • Outcome will depend on how attached Anthony is to wearing protection. At the moment he doesn’t regard the wearing of protection at his age as any different than wearing a pair of boxer shorts. • Anthony is at ease with how he looks and dresses and seems to regard the wearing of protection as a necessity. (If I wet I need a nappy – is how he puts it) • According to his mother shorts are the main item of clothing he wears both at home and when out and about. It’s his preference which gives him an even younger appearance than just his lack of stature. This is another issue we need to explore. • I think because of the lack of any medical or psychological assessment over his lifetime (when I believe his problems could have been caught earlier) a series of sessions with an accomplished physiotherapist will hopefully help ease Anthony forward. • Anthony will have a further EEG assessment in six months’ time. # # # ...to be continued 4 1 Link to comment
Pierry Louys Posted January 8, 2021 Share Posted January 8, 2021 Great chapter ! And congratulations your way to describe this illness is so accurate and very believable!!! Link to comment
D503 Posted January 9, 2021 Share Posted January 9, 2021 Great updates. I don't imagine a bout of toilet training will go well for him. Link to comment
Les Lea Posted January 10, 2021 Author Share Posted January 10, 2021 We're nearly at the end of Anthony's story so thanks for the vote of confidence and the fact that you like this direction.? Link to comment
Pierry Louys Posted January 10, 2021 Share Posted January 10, 2021 Sad and happy to hear this! Curious to know what gonna happen next ! I hoppe Anthony gets cured but he decides to wear nappies for comfort and fun! Rsre 14 minutes ago, Les Lea said: We're nearly at the end of Anthony's story so thanks for the vote of confidence and the fact that you like this direction.? Link to comment
Les Lea Posted January 15, 2021 Author Share Posted January 15, 2021 Part 21 I suppose the main thing was that Doctor Ames had been proved correct in her assumption that there was more to my situation than just being frightened of thunder. Indeed, that there were other underlying factors to do with both physical and mental issues... and a new one was about to be added... nurture. At the hospital I’d found the entire procedure both thrilling and scary. I was overcome by the fact they’d discovered scarring but relieved they didn’t have to drill into my skull to fix it. Doctor Mandip was nice and reassuring and I liked the way he talked me through all that they’d uncovered. He was helpful explaining the colourful images of how my brain worked and what part was doing what; it gave the impression there was a kids TV show going on in there. However, it seems that Doctor Ames and I would be seeing a lot of one and other over the coming months. She and mum had a very long talk and I think between them they’ve delved deeply into my past and uncovered some things of which I wasn’t necessarily aware. I could tell that the psychiatrist had got into mum’s head as well because her attitude around me altered. I gathered from little snippets of over-heard conversation she had with dad that the psychiatrist had put mum on the spot. A brief outline to what was said – mum was to blame for rushing to put me in a nappy at the first sign of incontinence and not taking me to a paediatrician or doctor when I began to regularly wet when I got stressed. Putting me in a nappy may have been a speedy way of dealing with my anxiety-wetting but, and it was a big BUT, according to Laura Ames, it bordered on neglect by not sorting out the problem, merely hiding it. I think mum would have rounded on her if she also hadn’t thought it was all her fault and seemed keen to do all she could to remedy the situation. If I’m truthful, I’m a little worried because mum has already said that she foresees changes. “Wouldn’t it be nice not to wake up wet in the morning, or worry about having to wear a nappy all the time?” I mean, of course it would... “Not being afraid whenever a thunder storm was forecast?” She emphasised with seriousness. I nod in agreement but... Mum kept up a litany of things that would be better, though I could tell she was only echoing the psychiatrist’s thoughts. What if Doctor Laura changes my personality? What if she makes it so I don’t like certain people... or things? The bottom line is... I’m mainly worried that at the end of all this... I won’t be me. # Mum started making changes straight away. The main change was... that from now on... she wouldn’t be supervising my changes. I’d have to learn to do it myself. That also meant the same at the office... no more community nappy changes. “Sorry Anthony but from now on, nappies are your responsibility. So, you’ll have to change yourself and be responsible for washing and drying all your protection... I won’t be buying any more supplies of disposables.” She said all this just a couple of mornings after my hospital visit. It didn’t help that I was lying in a double thick soaked nappy and was caught more than a little off-guard. I knew mum had said there would be some adjustments but this was a very dramatic and unexpected development. “Oh, erm, why... can’t you, errr, ummm...?” I sleepily tried to argue my position. “Doctor Ames has told me to let you deal with your problem yourself, give you room to understand what’s happening and to let you... you know... sort it on your own.” “But, I mean, I like you, ummm.” I was speechless wondering why mum didn’t want to help any more and why my psychiatrist had prescribed such a course of action. “She thinks it will be better for you to... well...” She didn’t carry on with what she was going to say and it was only later I realised she was going to say... “grow-up.” I had to get up to go to work but I felt a burden had been placed on my shoulders and the motivation to go into the office, for the first time since I got the job, wasn’t there. So, not only did I have to sort my own nappy... the support that had been so willingly offered by my colleagues was also to be taken away. I’d grown to like the fuss and attention I received from my fellow workers, it made me feel special. I mean, we’d even talked about it in Doctor Ames’s office... how nice and special it was and how wonderful because all my colleagues had been so supportive. I hadn’t realised just how unhelpful she’d thought my work mates had been. I waddled to the bathroom, the nappy hefty after my nightly flood. It flopped heavily to the tiled floor and with a huge sigh I turned on the shower to wake up properly. Once finished I scurried back to my bedroom but more or less knew mum wouldn’t be there to help. Lazily drying myself I looked around to see what supplies remained; only a couple of white disposables and three of the joyful cartoon ones were left. I thought that was a shame because I’d really gotten into wearing those in particular. There was still a pile of thick fabric nappies stacked up on the dresser and piles of plastic pants, pins, lotion and powder available for use. Of course, it was only recently mum had let me wear disposables, she being against the landfill side of a used one. However, I knew I couldn’t just put on my briefs and all would be well, so I struggled to get myself pinned into a thick cotton fleecy nappy and pulled up a pair of white shiny plastic pants to hold it firmly in place. # The weather had turned much cooler so shorts were out of the question even if they did hide things better, so I sorted out a pair of longs and got ready for the bus ride into town. I put a couple of spares in my backpack and, because I was running late left to catch the bus without so much as a ‘goodbye’ to mum. If I’m honest I was pretty annoyed with her and Doctor Laura, things had moved on at pace since my scan and I wasn’t quite prepared for just how it would affect me. However, because I’d put my protection on myself, I’d never been more conscious of what I was wearing. Every step seemed to convince my brain that the thickness wasn’t a problem because the fabric and plastic combined to make its presence known with each little movement. It was both stimulating and security. There was no question – although I’d worn protection loads and loads of times – this was the first time I had a raging hard on all the way to work. I had no idea why suddenly, something I’d taken for granted, and rarely thought of in a sexual way, was making me feel so horny. All the way into town the phrase that then kept repeating in my head was “Do you masturbate in your nappy?” Well thank you Doctor Laura because now that’s all I could think about. It probably didn’t help that the nappy was loose (not quite the tight way mum pins it on) so I was being buffeted and caressed by the soft material all the time. I felt a little giddy by the sensations the material and the bus’s vibrations were sending to various parts of my body. # Sadly, in the office there seemed to be on a downer, a blanket of... I don’t know what, just an impression the place had lost some of the joy I’d taken for granted. Of course I might have been projecting something I was feeling onto them but the atmosphere had seemed to have dropped. Deidre said how sad she thought it was that they weren’t allowed to help out any more but intimated she was happy to continue if I wanted. However, with Mrs Dewhurst telling me first thing that from ‘now on’ (how I was beginning to hate those two words) I couldn’t expect anyone else to help when I needed a change; they were all under strict instructions from mum. Otherwise, she said quite upbeat, nothing has changed. I wasn’t sure if she realised just how ironic her choice of words were. Anyway, to try and avoid any conflict, for me or for my colleagues, I tried my best to control any wetting. I made a point of visiting the loo as often as I could but that had a detrimental influence on just how effective the tightness of my nappy was. Oddly enough, I was able to keep my nappy relatively dry until the bus ride home, when I felt the usual warmth. But guess what... it was excited again so the rest of the ride wasn’t all that bad. By the time I walked through the front door at home I was feeling exhausted but in dire need of a change. # Mum was near the front door as I came in. “Hello love, had a good day at work?” She smiled as if nothing had altered. “Different.” Was all I could muster in reply. “Oh, erm, well your tea will be on the table in ten minutes.” “I need to change...” I shrugged and went to my room. I saw her hesitate as she nearly followed me up the stairs but that natural response was broken and simply returned to the kitchen. I was pretty glad really, I didn’t want her to see the sticky state the wet nappy was in. It was my secret. I began to wonder why, after all this time, my thick nappy now meant something different to me. It wasn’t like I’d never exploded in a nappy before but now... well it seemed that’s what it was there for. Why this had never occurred to me before I will never know because it felt really, really, good. Up in my room I shrugged off pants, folded them neatly and hung them up. I slipped out of my shirt and jumper and was left wearing just my soiled nappy and rather shiny plastic pants. I wandered over to the window and looked out. “This is where it all started” I began to tell myself. “Weeks ago and that...” Suddenly I saw again that tree burst into flame and the loud crack of thunder that rattled my brain. Except. Except. EXCEPT... Look, I wasn’t shaking. I hadn’t pissed myself, well not any more than was already there. Even with the sound of thunder still running around my head, I was thinking clearly... or was I? I moved from the window and stood staring at myself in the mirror. I peered closely into my own eyes. I guess I was trying to see which areas of my brain were lighting up like they had on the EEG. I gazed intently wondering if I got close enough I’d be able to detect those flashes of neurons going about their business... mapping and remapping my thoughts. I felt myself being pulled closer into my own reflection, my nose all but touching the glass but I detected none of those sparks of activity behind my eyes and felt strangely let down. A sudden touch on my shoulder pulled me from sinking any further into my image. “Anthony, Anthony, sweetie... we’ve been waiting twenty minutes for you... are you coming down... are you OK?” The focus of my deep scrutiny quickly moved and I could see mum looking concerned over my shoulder. “Yes, errrmmm, OK, fine just... you know... checking...” I stammered guiltily for being up close to the mirror like that. “Just wondering about those new pathways the doctor was talking about.” This didn’t seem a bad answer considering. Mum just made a sort of “OK then” noise but was still taking in the way I looked. It was only on closer inspection I realised I was all but naked - the thick shiny plastic pants that still hid my mucky nappy... perhaps I should have changed first. “Are you planning on wearing them all night?” She half smiled and I was a bit confused, did she want to change me? “No, I, umm, just got thinking about what the doctor said about my brain making adjustments and, well, I think it might have just made another.” That seemed a better answer than admit I was trying to see the colourful bits of my brain lighting up. Mum rubbed my neck and sighed. “C’mon sweetie, come and get your tea and then we can discuss things if you want.” I did want. I wanted to take mum to task about her announcement of no more nappy changes. I wanted to tell her the office didn’t seem as friendly now. I wanted to tell her about my most recent discovery of thinking about the lightning tree and not panicking. Oh yes there was a lot to talk about but in the end I reached for a pair of shorts, pulled on a jumper and joined the family at the table. # As we ate our meal, a rather delicious creamy Roquefort, mushroom and walnut tagliatelle, nothing appeared different. Dad was mainly silent, Jen was gossiping about school, mum was saying that Mrs Symanski had called saying how she’d had enough of her sister and was ready to come home. No subtle hinting as far as she was concerned... she expected mum to go and collect her. “So,” she smiled at us all around the table, “anyone fancy a trip to the coast this weekend?” “I think you already know the answer to that.” Dad gruffly responded. “No chance,” was Jen’s equally dismissive answer. “Well sweetie,” mum looked in my direction, “looks like it’s me and you again?” She raised her eyebrows as if it was both a question and something taken as read. “I’m sure she’d be hurt if she didn’t have her favourite neighbour there...” “Mum, do I have to?” I asked rather more sullenly than intended. She looked a bit sad. “I thought you liked our trip to the seaside.” I had. I’d absolutely loved it but things had changed. As of this morning mum, you changed things and, and, and... I wanted to scream but of course I stayed mute. “C’mon sweetie, keep your old mum company. It can be a long drive and I like to...” She could see the grimace on my face and her encouraging smile faded. “Oh OK, if you don’t want to come I can’t make you but we could go on Saturday, stay at the hotel and pick her up Sunday afternoon...” I loaded my fork and carried on eating without replying further. # Mum does make lovely meals and despite the mood I was in felt pretty shitty at being in that mood and not telling her how much I enjoyed the pasta. The thing was, sitting in my used nappy was getting uncomfortable and the slight wriggling around was making a noisy crinkle... more so than usual. My head was full of arguments but didn’t want to say anything in case I said something I’d regret later. I’m not one for confrontation or arguments normally but my head was buzzing. It all just felt strange and unnecessary. Mum and Jen cleared away the empty plates, dad retired to the living room and I thought it about time to... oh... yes it was time because I was experiencing another warm flush and I wasn’t sure just how much more the nappy could absorb. Back in my room I desperately wanted to change into the Dino disposable but, as I only had three left, decided to keep them for special occasions... if there were to be any. I grabbed one of the super-thick fabric nappies off the dresser, a pair of thick rubber pants, four pins and headed for the bathroom. I shucked off my shorts, wriggled down the plastic pants and the entire soaked nappy drooped between my thighs. It was heavy so just let it fall to the floor with a sodden squelch. I looked in the laundry bin and saw I had a couple of other items in there to wash so I knew that was my next job (oh, and rinse through the several pairs of vinyl pants that also needed attention) only after I’d cleaned up and fastened myself into a fresh nappy. As I’d done it once I was sure I could make it tighter than the morning’s attempt but the thicker rubber pants were going to be my insurance to hold everything in place for the night. I put on a large baggy t-shirt that just about covered my bulky bottom and sauntered downstairs to the machine. It surprised me to think that this was something I’d never even thought about doing previously. There was a pre-soak setting and then it would automatically run a wash and spin cycle. I set it to do all that so by the morning, if the weather was fine, I could hang everything out on the line before I went off to work. I was pretty pleased with my pre-planning and was returning back up to my room when Jen asked for some help with her homework. She rarely did this so I knew it must have been important and, as I was only going to read in bed, went into her room where I spent a good couple of hours. Of course being used to the sight she never mentioned my rubber pants but I was pleased that I felt so secure behind them. It was nice to be completely at ease with my sister and I felt good that I was able to help her. Later mum and dad came in to kiss us ‘goodnight’ and told us not to work too late but as we worked through the problems our conversation eventually turned personal. I was sitting on her bed dressed in a nappy and rubber pants, whilst she, even in her pyjamas, looked like she’d just stepped off a catwalk. She asked me more about the tests I’d had at the hospital. What I thought about it all and did I blame mum? I said I wanted to blame her but it’s difficult to blame someone who just didn’t know something might have happened when there was no obvious sign. She pointed to the large white bulge between my legs. “And does that ever worry you?” I shrugged my shoulders but I noticed her emphasis on the word ‘ever’. “It’s never bothered me because I know I wear it for a reason. I think I would hate it more if I was piss... peeing... all over the place.” She was far more sophisticated than me and yet here I was, trying to protect my fourteen year-old sister from such a swear word as ‘piss’. I must have appeared ridiculous. She looked and raised her eyebrows much the same way mum did when I’d acted a bit stupid. “What I mean is,” she started on me again, “here you are, eighteen, and still wearing a nappy. I mean, I don’t think there is anyone else I know who wouldn’t think that strange or at least be resentful about it.” She waited for an answer but I wasn’t sure I could give her the one I thought she wanted. “As long as I’ve known you,” she carried on, “at some point for one reason or another you have been returned to nappies and I’ve never heard one word of complaint... or... seen an ounce of regret.” There was no demand for answers in her voice, she was simply stating what she saw as facts and I couldn’t refute her on any of it. “Ermpphhh?” was my initial response. What I should have said was that I didn’t mind wearing a nappy because it gave, and continues to give, comfort and security. I ran my hand over its slippery surface as if to confirm what I was thinking... it did. The conversation then went to the fact that now I knew why I wet... what was I going to do about it? That was more difficult because I wasn’t sure. For some reason I simply thought that between them, mum and Doctor Ames would have come to some conclusion and that would be it. She wondered what I thought of having to see a psychiatrist who had suspected something was wrong so quickly. This was not the girl I’d watched Peppa Pig with... she was so much more adult than me. As we talked I was surprised how much our chat was putting things into perspective and, although I may have aided Jen with her maths, she’d more than repaid the favour. Her observation, and criticisms, were not meant to hurt but certainly made me think. I returned to my own room, it was past eleven by then, so slipped under the covers with a different awareness of myself. # The power chords and screaming guitar had brought the song to an end. The huge arena had burst into wild applause and I was taking a bow. Dressed like I’d just been on an expedition through a desert (or I could have been a scout), the audience loving every movement, swish and wink as I barrelled into the next song... these were my adoring fans. On lead guitar was Pete, looking exactly like he had the last I saw him and the rest of the band made up of school mates and musicians I’d seen on TV, we rocked the stadium as we ploughed into another of our rock classics. Slowly the scene dissolved and the screaming fans became a line of dolls, stuffed animals and my old action figures. The stadium had shrunk to a large playpen where both Pete and I were frolicking. Now we were just a couple of nappy-clad babies giggling and crawling around, hugging toys and building bricks; he with a bulbous nappy restricting much movement, which was covered in shiny plastic nursery print pants and me in an even thicker nappy and large white rubber pants that glowed in the lights. We had a toy screen in the playpen that was flashing 2.13 at us but we were just happy to push a ball between each other’s outstretched legs. The scene pulled back further and we were reduced to colourful childish cartoon characters, who mum, dad and Jen were watching on TV. “Oh, Ant would love this show.” Jen said as she watched the two of us giggling like pixies whilst we entertained ourselves. That’s when I woke up. My clock clearly telling me the time - 2.13 - in bold blue and I could feel that I was in the process of wetting the thick padding between my legs. Although the dream was clear I just couldn’t be bothered and let my rubber pants take on the responsibility of keeping the bed dry. I rolled over and fell back to sleep. # When mum came in to wake me up for work at 7.30 I could feel the thick padding had been needed but the main thing going around my head was just how well I remembered the dream. This was unusual but it seemed so important, I thought it must have meaning though the reason completely escaped me. My sister had asked a very important question “What was I going to do about it?” and that was also resonating around my head. As I fondled my swollen nappy I wondered if the dream had been influenced by that question. Were the two things connected? I have to tell you here that my thinking was not forensic. It was all over the place and fluttered like a butterfly on a warm summer’s day from one blossom to the next. There was a blame game but how could I play that when I might have been as culpable as anyone else? Up until Doctor Laura neither I, or anyone else in the family, had ever asked ourselves any of these questions, we’d simply got on with what we thought needed to be done with everyone accepting their part of keeping to the status quo... but now. I waddled to the bathroom and all the way through the shower and clean up I could think of nothing else. That was until mum knocked on the bathroom door and told me that the laundry had finished. It was getting late and I didn’t want to miss my bus so cut short my thoughtful meanderings and concentrated on what needed to be done. There on the floor was still my sodden nappy, which in other circumstances mum would have removed. Now that was my job. As I picked up the sopping material and shoved it in the bin, another fact dawned on me - I was forever going to be in a circle of washing and drying nappies unless I could shrug off whatever it was that kept my bladder from permanently leaking. Back in my bedroom I wondered if I should give my briefs a try but quickly decided that I wasn’t confident enough yet to go a day without some fortification. I grabbed a surprisingly soft nappy from the pile and went through the folding procedure that mum had done so many times. Although it still didn’t quite feel the same as when she did it, I had to go with what I’d done and knew that the tight plastic pants would hold it in place. Actually, I settled on thicker rubber ones to do that job and tottered downstairs to see breakfast set out and mum sitting drinking coffee. “I’ve pegged out your nappies sweetie because there’s a nice breeze this morning but it might rain this afternoon. Don’t worry, I’ll be here to see to them... have you rinsed through the vinyl pants?” “Thanks and yes, they’re hanging up in the bathroom.” “Oh, well I’ll get them and peg them out as well... might as well let the sun do its job whilst we can.” “I’ll go and get them.” “Have your breakfast first love or you’ll be late for the bus.” It’s amazing how quickly little bits of life creep in when you’re trying to solve the big picture. I instantly forgot the questions and dream and wondered if I had time to eat breakfast, pack my bag, retrieve the plastic pants and get to the bus in the next few minutes. Mum made it easy for me... despite nappies being my responsibility, she said she’d sort all that out... much to my relief. # I had another couple of days with only slightly wet nappies but I can’t say the same for the nights when I woke up absolutely soaked. My next appointment with Doctor Ames was fast approaching and other than mum (or anyone in the office) no longer changing me nothing much had changed. For some reason, after all the tests and evaluations, I thought she’d expect a complete turnaround in my wetting routine. Six o’clock Friday and back in her office where she was all smiles and friendly welcomes but I’d become conflicted; I wasn’t sure whether I could or should trust her any more. I was worried that she was going to change me and despite my commitment to resolving my problem, I wasn’t sure if that’s what I really wanted. “Hello Anthony, nice to see you again, take a seat.” As last time I’d arrived straight from work so had a thick nappy (dry thanks to a late change in the toilets before I left) and the rubber pants I put my faith in to hold my feeble attempts in making the padding secure. I was getting better but I still didn’t trust myself to do the task correctly. I was a bit more reserved and surveyed the office before I sat down. It was like I was checking for... what... I have no idea. I was just being cautious... then of course I rustled as I took a seat. In many ways it was a silly stance to adopt because she now knew more about me than before, so if I clammed up, she would know I was doing just that. However, mum withdrawing her nappy changing had made me think badly of the doctor... it was like mum was withdrawing her love and I’d had that unconditionally all my life. “So, how’s the nappy situation coming along?” No messing with Doctor Laura Ames, straight in with the questions. “Still peeing a lot at night but not so much in the day.” I thought I’d be as direct as her but she didn’t react to my answer other than waiting for me to elaborate. We waited for a minute or so before the silence got too much and I had to explain myself. # I’m not sure if she said it at all but “And how does that make you feel?” seemed to be carried in each reply to my reply. I eventually got around to saying that I hated the loss of mum’s love... and there it was, crying about a love I perceived I had lost when really I hadn’t. My emotions were all wrapped up in my relationship with mum and I felt that the psychiatrist had spoiled it. I was upset, I’d had enough and wanted to go home but the child in me said I couldn’t just get up and walk away without being told I could. This was stupid, I’m eighteen, a fact I kept hammering home to her but she just wrote something down or sat back and let me carry on. The stress levels in my head were rising and I could feel my nappy was about to take the brunt of that worry. I was just about to explode when she said in a firm and controlling voice: “STOP.” I felt my bladder slam shut as I looked across and she was leaning forward with a steely expression on her face. “You can make it all stop if you want to. You can do whatever you want, you are in control.” I gazed at her wondering what she was on about. “You’ve let things happen because it’s easier than confronting them...” “But I don’t like confrontation... I... I...” It was that small childish voice I’d heard so often. “You don’t like confrontation because it’s easier not to have to do so.” “No, no, I get stressed if...” “Yes, yes, you pee your pants... I know... but that’s your decision.” “What, I don’t, umm, ermmm, I don’t pee my pants on purpose.” I whined. I almost got up to leave. Oh god this was getting worse and I couldn’t escape. This three year-old, no, eighteen year-old, couldn’t escape from my tormentor because I hadn’t been given permission. “If you leave now it will just prove my point... you are in control. You decide your actions.” I wavered in the chair but felt the bulky padding almost dragging me back down. The tears were rolling down my face as I tried again to get up but I was afraid. I wanted mummy and I wanted to be away from all this, this stress... but my nappy remained dry. She sat watching for a few moments as I tried to compose myself. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a hanky to wipe away the tears but they kept coming. She reached forward and held my hand. It was what I needed, some comfort, someone to say it was all OK, an authority figure who would help get me through this... mummy. I felt my nappy warming up... the flood had started. # # # ...to be continued 3 2 Link to comment
Pierry Louys Posted January 15, 2021 Share Posted January 15, 2021 Wow that was intense !! I hope Antony gets what he needs Link to comment
maly Posted January 16, 2021 Share Posted January 16, 2021 Such a lot to process for the boy. Thanks for this intense chapter. Maly. Link to comment
Les Lea Posted January 22, 2021 Author Share Posted January 22, 2021 Hi everyone, thanks for the continued encouragement it is, as always, greatly appreciated Part 22 I woke up as usual Saturday morning to a well soaked nappy. It would be the third change I’d had since I got home Friday night and despite Doctor Laura saying I had control - this just proved I hadn’t. Last night when I got in I was feeling pretty raw. The psychiatric session had me confused because it had been quite emotional. However, I was having a hard job piecing together the exact events for it to make sense. I know I cried a lot and I know I drenched my nappy (thank heavens I hadn’t decided to wear briefs) but something else had happened during that meeting which I was unsure about. Did I cry out for my mummy? Or worse, did I call Doctor Ames mummy? After the session it took a few minutes to compose myself enough to catch the bus home. I didn’t change in her office but I wasn’t sure if she knew I’d wet or not. Anyway, the offer to change didn’t come up and had it, I think I would have said I was OK until I got home, which is what I did. On the journey I kept thinking something happened, something happened but just couldn’t focus on what. Anyway, when I got in I went straight to my room, removed all my clothes and checked the sodden material between my legs. I knew it was bad and on a cursory inspection I could see that I’d had a very slight but embarrassing accident in the rear. Thankfully, it hadn’t been as explosive as others I’d had recently but still saw it as a warning. I rushed to the loo, took a shower and pre-rinsed the messed in material like mum did. As I walked back to the room wrapped in a towel I just hoped this wasn’t a sign that things had suddenly deteriorated. I think I was feeling quite down at that moment and didn’t really know what to do. My mind was full of something, unfortunately I couldn’t quite put my finger on what and that was bugging me. Distractedly I entered my room and mum was waiting for me looking concerned. “Are you alright sweetheart?” I simply shrugged and dried myself a bit more, although in truth I was so pleased to see her. “Things not gone too well this time?” She obviously knew from my demeanour something was up. I shrugged again but noticed mum had laid out a fresh nappy like she used to. “Look, I can tell you’re upset about... something (how did she know it was something?) and I don’t like seeing you like this so... let’s get you into a fresh one of these,” she said patting the soft fabric, “and then we can talk about it.” I should have known mum would come through for me. Her understanding my confusion had made what had gone on over the last few days not count... my stress level immediately dropped to zero. She pulled the towel away and told me to lie out. “Oh sweetie,” she said taking a close look at my genital area, “you’re going to have to take more care... it looks like the start of a rash... this area is looking a bit sensitive.” Mum cared and I couldn’t have been happier as she slavered on tons of cream and bathed me in a flurry of baby powder. The nappy was soft and thick and contained a booster pad but I was so grateful to feel the welcoming embrace of fabric and her loving touch, I happily put up with the bulk. Next came the purple plastic pants, which expanded to engulf the entire thing. Once she’d finished I sat and hugged her in complete gratitude. “Sorry mum, I’ve really missed that... I know you’re trying to wean me off... but, you know, it’s...” “I know love and I miss it too but...” and we both hugged each other again. # I didn’t really want to talk I was just happy to be in mum’s affectionate embrace; a nappy and a hug from mum what more could I want? “Look, I’m going to pick up Mrs Symanski tomorrow, why don’t you come with me and we can talk on the journey... besides... I’ll need some moral support for the trip back.” We giggled because we both knew just how trying that was going to be. Even though I didn’t want to talk right then and there, I did think that perhaps between us we could sort some of the new questions and problems that filled my head. I agreed to go with her and then we went downstairs to grab a bite to eat and watch some TV. For once dad wasn’t surrounded with papers but reading a golfing magazine, which gave a reasonable idea what he was going to be doing when we drove to the coast. Jenny was staying over at a friend’s house, so we watched some detective drama mum had got in to. By ten I was almost falling asleep. In fact, I must have dozed for a few minutes because when I woke up realised I was soaked again. This time I didn’t mention it to mum because I wasn’t sure how dad would take it. So far, he hadn’t commented much on the results of my examination other than to express his sorrow that he and mum hadn’t picked up on it earlier. As always, he was supportive but I’m not sure how much mum had told him so didn’t go into any detail. Anyway, mum said we’d be setting off to the coast around ten but she’d get me up in time to have a nice big breakfast before we went. # Back in my room and I peeled myself out of the very wet padding, cleaned myself up but picked up one of the thicker, double-gusset fabric nappies and fitted that as best I could. Mentally I wasn’t in the best place to be taking any chances. The laundry bin was quickly filling up so knew I had another job to do in the morning. There was a pair of thick clear plastic pants, which mum must have missed and had slipped behind the radiator. I used them to keep the reassuring fleecy fabric in place. I was whacked but kept running my hand over the bulbous slippery surface thinking of how enjoyable the sensation was. My thoughts turned to when mum changed me and how, even in such a short space of time, I’d had missed that connection. That was it... mum and me and my nappies... I drifted off thinking of this holy trinity. # I woke up before mum came in and could feel the full saturated material. I listened and there didn’t seem to be any movement in the bathroom yet so got up and waddled there to relieve myself of the saggy cargo and have a damn good clean out before the rest of the house stirred. Once all that was done I headed back to my room and turned on my computer and checked what the weather would be like here and by the coast for the rest of the day. We were in luck, providing everyone else didn’t decide they’d like a day at the seaside, we had picked a nice day for the retrieval of Mrs Symanski. We weren’t planning on staying over this time, just a quick pick-up and return so decided I could wear one of my cartoon disposables and a pair of clear plastic pants under green hiking shorts. Once the disposable was in place I looked in the mirror and smiled, yeah I looked like a little kid but I loved the feel of the thick plastic coating and soft but very absorbent stuffing, I was content. I gathered up all my used nappies from the laundry bin and took them downstairs and set the washing going and then, on impulse, decided I’d make breakfast for us all. I looked at the clock and it was coming up to 8am and knew dad would want an early start for his game of golf. In fact, I could hear him in the bathroom so got the bacon, sausage, egg and beans ready. I fancied the idea of being in some kind of control... for once. As I bent, lifted, moved around the kitchen, my nice (childish) disposable was caressing my bum and bits. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so aroused whilst making any meal, so this was a first. Mum wandered down in her dressing gown surprised to see me dressed and ready for our journey and well underway with breakfast. She offered to help but I poured an orange juice and indicated she should just sit down. “I’ll do this.... you just relax and then, you can get ready after you’ve eaten.” She rested her hands on my shoulders and thanked me for being so considerate and then patted my bum. I knew she was checking but I was OK with that and just gratified she let me carry on. Dad arrived looking just like you’d expect, I have no idea why the clothing for such a sport is so weird and colourful, he’d never wear such a combination anywhere else... mind you I was in no position to bring up any clash of colour. The crispy bacon and scrambled egg were ready at the same time so as dad sat down, I was able to serve what for me, is always the best meal. I just love my big breakfasts. # Dad was off with a thanks, a kiss on the top of my head, a pat on my padding and the advice not to forget earphones to block out Mrs Symanski. Mum cheerfully admonished him for being disrespectful about our neighbour but he just shrugged and said “You’ve been warned”. Of course, I knew exactly what to expect. However, this journey was in support of mum rather than a trip to the seaside for our own benefit. Just before 10am we were ready. Mum wore jeans and a colourful top I was in green shorts and a pale green and white striped jumper. I thought we both looked younger than we were... it seemed a weight had been lifted from mum as well as me. For the first few miles we discussed the directions and where we hoped we’d miss any traffic build-ups. Thankfully, although the roads were busy it all appeared to be flowing well. There was a lull in conversation and that’s when she asked the question. “OK, who’s going to start?” Mum asked. Then without waiting she was off. “I’ll start.” I looked nervously over to her but mercifully my nappy remained dry. “Did you know,” she queried in a voice that was filled with tease and humour... and about to reveal something I didn’t know, “when you were a bit younger, and we occasionally put you back into nappies, it was Mrs Symanski who supported such action?” I looked at her in astonishment. “What do you mean... supported such action?” “Well, you were about six and suddenly started wetting the bed again but we didn’t know why. Both your father and I worried that putting you back in nappies, although would solve the problem, we worried you might get upset... you being six and all.” “But I thought, ermm...” Mum interrupted my train of thought. “Well, I was chatting to Mrs Symanski one day and the topic came up... as it does.” She smiled trying to excuse herself for spilling a family secret. “She was so positive.” I already knew the old lady, and I’m sure other people in the neighbourhood also knew, but I hadn’t expected her to be the one to support my need for protection. She said that no matter at what age, if a boy needs a ‘pieluszka’, Polish for nappy, he should wear one... it’s a sensible precaution to take. I looked at mum even more astonished, Mrs Symanski said that... our Mrs Symanski... the grumpy old lady from...? “Yes, that Mrs Symanski.” It was as if mum was reading my mind. “Why?” “No idea but she offered loads of advice. You might not remember but she was a godsend and very helpful... brought round useful bits and bats... even babysat occasionally... and adored you.” I shivered in my seat trying to take it all in. I just couldn’t associate the two things Mrs Symanski and my nappies. I mean, on the last trip hadn’t she gone off on one after I peed my pants. Actually, when I thought about it she hadn’t... it was me who was embarrassed... she simply said not to worry as it could happen to anyone. # We drove on in silence for a little while then mum got back to the subject she really wanted to talk about. “You looked really sad last night when you got in and suspect the session hadn’t gone as you hoped.” As usual she was right on the button. I sighed. “Yer... I cried a bit... well... I cried a lot actually.” “Why, what happened?” Her curiosity had been pricked. It was difficult to explain, I hadn’t quite got it organised in my head except for the fact that I was getting anxious and suddenly she’d shouted at me. “She shouted at you?” mum asked incredulously. “That doesn’t seem right.” “Well, perhaps not shouted but commanded me to STOP.” And I slammed the palms of my hand down onto bare legs just above my knees to emphasise the point. (A stupid thing to do because it hurt but I didn’t want to change the subject so had to put up with stinging legs) “Why did she do that?” “Well she’d asked me so many questions I was beginning to get quite anxious – telling me I was in control; that I chose to wet. I, I, I could feel my bladder about to give way... and she shouted STOP.” “Stop what?” “I wasn’t sure but whatever was about to fill my nappy decided against it and my bladder tightened up.” “Good heavens... what a thing...” “Not only that... I felt scared and wanted to leave.” “Did she try and stop you?” I shrugged “No I didn’t feel I could.” “Were you hypnotised or something?” She asked hesitantly. “No, well I don’t think so but I felt I couldn’t leave without permission and... she hadn’t said I could.” “Oh dear, that all sounds very dramatic.” “Yes, I suppose it was and I burst into tears.” Mum just looked and nodded as I thought about that scene. I felt stupid and ashamed of my actions and wondered what mum made of such a display. “What did Doctor Ames do?” “She held my hand.” I shrugged again because I really was having trouble putting these events in some semblance of order that made sense to me. “Just like you would” I mumbled. “What happened then?” “I filled my nappy.” # At this admission I got a bit embarrassed. I know, stupid. I’ve been wetting myself over many years and in various circumstances, yet can’t remember the last time I felt this self-conscious over a soaked nappy. We drove on in silence; I think mum knew I needed time to compose myself. We turned off the main road and started down through the little villages, which led to where our passenger lived, including the one where I’d been changed on our last visit. As we passed the car park where the deed had been executed mum cheekily asked if I needed the use of its facilities. I could see she was kidding and it did help me get back to feeling less awkward. Now the veil I’d drawn had been lifted mum proffered an idea. “Why do you think she shouted at you to STOP?” She actually raised her voice exactly like the psychiatrist had done. “Erm, errr, I don’t know but it was a shock.” “I wonder if that was the idea.” She deliberated. “I mean, she must have done it for a reason and, as she’d said you were in control, perhaps it was her way of showing you just that?” “But I wasn’t... I’ve never been...” “Didn’t you say you were at a high anxiety level and felt you were about to burst into your padding?” “Yes, but I didn’t.” “Exactly,” she said with some air of satisfaction. “Exactly what?” I looked even more confused. “You DIDN’T wet.” “No, I was too shocked.” “Precisely, don’t you see what she did?” Mum’s face was lit up like she’d just solved the riddle of the Sphinx. I still had no idea but mum was very mobile in her seat excited that she might be on to something... the very something that eluded me. # “OK, are you going to tell me what’s made you so animated?” We were approaching the last bit of the journey that led to Mrs Symanski’s sister’s cottage. “I think she was distracting you.” “Why would she do that?” “Well, think about it. She wanted to see if you were in control so she gave you another stimulus just as you were about to pee your pants right?” “Right.” “But you didn’t pee your pants did you? Instead, you were distracted by something else so perhaps that might be a solution, or at least a chance of a solution, to your wetting.” I was left wondering if mum had gone do-lally though she was sure she was on to something. Meanwhile, I tried to get to grips with what she’d just announced... I wasn’t having much luck. “Maybe,” she announced as we neared the cottage, “as Doctor Mandip said, your brain has made new pathways and connections since the accident and the lightning strike just exacerbated those links ... or maybe forced new ones on you.” She nodded hoping I was taking in her logic. “And maybe, what needs to happen is a different stimulus coming in as you are about to wet to challenge that pathway... mmm?” She looked at me to confirm she was on the right track but I wasn’t too sure. “I think that’s what Laura plans to do... make new pathways... introduce different motivations...” # The conversation came to an end as we pulled up outside the cottage. It all looked so peaceful as we left the car and tapped on the door. It took a couple of moments for it to be answered and it was her sister who greeted us. “Come in, come in... can I get you a drink or something to eat?” “Thank you Zofia, that would be nice... it’s such a hot day.” “Lena... your chariot has arrived.” Zofia shouted down the hall. “She’s just finishing packing... why she brought so much I do not know... anyway...” She guided us out to the rear garden. The view was stunning you could see for miles. There was an uninterrupted view over fields to the cliffs and beyond to the sea. Mum and I just looked at each other... why would you want to leave this place, it was beautiful. We sat at a table with four chairs a large green umbrella shading the entire thing and settled to enjoy the view. Zofia arrived with a tray of St Clements (orange and bitter lemon), a refreshing drink I’ve always associated with summer, but who could deny it was appropriate for the entire scene. “This is a beautiful place you have here Zofia, absolutely wonderful.” Mum enthused. “Thank you. My husband was brought up in this part of the country and we bought this place from an old couple over forty years ago. When he died the cottage was just full of him and his memories so, despite offers, large offers from people wanting to buy this place, I couldn’t leave.” Just then Mrs Symanski came out to join us. You could tell they were sisters because they looked and dressed almost identical. There was a no-nonsense air about them both although age may have taken its toll, they weren’t about to give up any independence. “Ah Lena, I’ve just been saying to Mary and Anthony about the offers I’ve had on this place.” “Yes, two whilst I’ve been here. Bold as brass, come up, knocked on the door and asked if the place was for sale. Cheeky beggers.” She sort of harrumphed. “Is there a bleeding sign? I’d ask them and when they looked shy and embarrassed I slammed the door in their face.” We laughed but the two women were sort of slightly riled up by these occasional intrusions. “Mind you,” Mrs Symanski said (I can’t bring myself to call her Lena that would seem very disrespectful) some of the offers have been humongous and I’ve told her to sell up and come and live with me.” “I couldn’t live with you you old bat... you’d drive me up the wall in minutes.” “That’s the type of response you get when you’re willing to throw open your doors to the old and infirm...” Mrs Symanski’s chided her sister. I wasn’t sure if this was their usual way of communication but I knew we were in for a long discussion if mum didn’t break up this line of chat. As it was, another hour later and I hinted to mum I needed to go to the toilet but in fact, I needed a change as I’d already unknowingly wet myself whilst listen to these two’s lively bickering. “Excuse me Zofia, can Anthony use your bathroom please?” Mum gently inserted herself into their conversation. “Of course. Do you need a nappy change Anthony... there’s powder in there,” she pointed the way but I was shocked she’d brought up the subject, “through the door and first on the left.” Why did she just assume...? “If you need a hand Anthony don’t be too proud to ask for help.” Mrs Symanski added with a knowing nod. “It’s OK ladies, he’s learning to do it himself.” Mum intervened passing her large shoulder bag, but it didn’t help with my embarrassment. “Muuuummm.” It was that childish whine again, which I guess didn’t help with the old ladies opinion of me. “Good for you Anthony,” Mrs Symanski added, “you shouldn’t be embarrassed around us. If a boy needs a nappy he should wear one and not have to worry about it.” I could hear that conversation carry on as I disappeared into the bathroom. # The bathroom was spotless but smaller and busier than I’d expected. Although tidy, there were bottles, powders, potions, ornaments, pot pouri and tissues on every surface and the overpowering smell of lavender. I shrugged down my shorts and slid out of the plastic pants before releasing the soaked material. Although I’d got myself well-padded I’d forgotten that I had worn my cartoon disposable and as I rummaged around in mum’s bag there were only large squares of white fabric and rubber pants available. This meant it was going to take me a bit longer than with a disposable and I was slightly cursing mum for not thinking ahead. Which I realised was stupid as mum had said it was all my responsibility now and I hadn’t brought anything. Standing there naked from the waist down I was still rooting around in the bottom of the bag for some pins when there was a knock on the door. “Thank god,” I thought, “mum’s come to help.” “Come in,” I whispered. In walked Mrs Symanski. “I thought you might be struggling in this small area love so I’ve come to give you a hand.” She looked at my nakedness. “I know your mum wants you to do it yourself but I know how difficult that can be.” She whispered conspiratorially. “Erm, er thanks but I’m sure I can manage,” I stammered as I tried to cover my privates. “Nonsense, we can have you ready in seconds if you just leave it to me.” She didn’t wait for an answer. Simply took the pins I was holding in my hand and slipped them between her lips. Saw the white fleecy square of material sitting on the bath edge and had it folded in seconds. She then asked if I’d wiped myself clean yet. I shook my head. “Boys,” she tutted and ran a face-cloth under the warm tap. As she did that I noticed my rather bedraggled looking cartoon disposable lying discarded next to the sink and quickly tried to retrieve it. “They look fun.” She said hardly missing a beat. “I’ll get rid of those once we’re done.” Although a bit embarrassed about the childish disposable I was still a bit stunned by the intrusion. However, I grasped that things were now out of my control (so much for Doctor Laura) so tried to relax and let her get on with it. To be honest, once I got over the shock, as with mum, it was nice to have someone else in charge. “You’re a good boy Anthony so just relax and I’ll have you all freshly sorted in moments.” I didn’t get any opportunity to say much but wondered if she would ever see me as more than the little lad she’d known for most of my life. Even as she gently held my penis and gave it a good wipe down, I just thought of myself as a little boy who needed his nappy changed and to let the adult get on with it. I was cleaned, oiled and powdered in just a couple of minutes with a thick nappy and plastic pants in position as well. “There,” she said satisfied, “that should last until you get home at least.” She left me to put on my shorts and disappeared off to another room with my soggy disposable neatly balled up. When I reappeared things had moved on a pace as mum and Zofia were at the door and it looked like we were almost ready to leave. “Go and help Mrs Symanski with her case dear.” Mum said pointing down the hall... as she took her bag back I don’t think she was aware that the old lady had just changed me. “It’s quite heavy so be careful.” I remembered the size of her case but thankfully it was on wheels so wasn’t going to be too difficult to manoeuvre out to the car. In her bedroom Mrs Symanski was putting a few bits and pieces in her large handbag and I took the opportunity to thank her for what she’d just done. “My pleasure Anthony,” she smiled. “Don’t be in too much of a hurry to...” She didn’t finish because Zofia came in and rebuked her for “wittering and boring the boy”. She nagged her to get a move on, whilst chiding her for keeping everyone waiting and besides... she was desperate to have her house back to herself. Despite all this they hugged whilst I dragged the case out to the car and shoved it in the boot... it did seem heavier than when she came but perhaps I’d just got weaker over all that time. I waited for them to finish their farewells. Mum was already politely waiting in the car, but this time I held the passenger door open for Mrs Symanski. Once on board I got in the back seat. As I fastened the seat belt I couldn’t help but feel well protected. It had been OK doing the job myself but far better when someone else took charge. This crazy, but understanding, old Polish lady had fastened me in and I’d never felt more secure. My head was buzzing with how considerate she’d been and wondered, after all this time and with her kids gone, how she’d been able to keep up her nappy changing skill. As we set off on our return journey Mrs Symanski turned to mum and with a grimace but a face that said otherwise. “Thank God you came... another day and I’m sure we’d have killed each other.” The drive home did not go as expected. Mrs Symanski didn’t regale us with a minute by minute account of what she’d done the entire time she was away, instead she told us something not even mum knew about. # # # ...to be continued 2 2 Link to comment
Pierry Louys Posted January 22, 2021 Share Posted January 22, 2021 What a mean cliffhanger rsrsrs Link to comment
Sarah Penguin Posted January 23, 2021 Share Posted January 23, 2021 13 hours ago, Pierry Louys said: What a mean cliffhanger rsrsrs Cliffhangers yeah and a we all know how that ends for authors who indulge! I'll get the pitchforks you call round the list and let the mob now! Link to comment
Pierry Louys Posted January 23, 2021 Share Posted January 23, 2021 9 minutes ago, Sarah Penguin said: Cliffhangers yeah and a we all know how that ends for authors who indulge! I'll get the pitchforks you call round the list and let the mob now! Yeah totally !! You bring the pitchforks and I will bring the torches!!! Link to comment
maly Posted January 23, 2021 Share Posted January 23, 2021 OOHHH juicy gossip! Thanks for the new chapter. Maly. Link to comment
Les Lea Posted January 26, 2021 Author Share Posted January 26, 2021 Glad you're still enjoying it. Thanks for the comments as always. ? Link to comment
Les Lea Posted January 29, 2021 Author Share Posted January 29, 2021 Part 23 To begin with the drive was pretty uneventful, although our passenger did dig into her bag and produce a box of orange flavoured chocolates. “The local village shop may have lacked many of the basics but this exclusive brand of Orange Crème’s I remembered was your favourite and thought we’d enjoy them on the journey home.” She grinned as she saw both mum’s and my eyes brighten. We all eagerly took one and the woman wasn’t wrong, they were simply - melt in the mouth perfect. At least we weren’t spending the entire trip talking about some dress she’d bought or luckily, how she’d spied the sweets in the village shop and debated whether to buy them or not. There was a nice period of sucky silence as we enjoyed the chocolatey goodies. One wasn’t going to be enough so we each had a couple more... yes they were very moreish. This length of silence, although welcome, was not like Mrs Symanski at all and after a while she suddenly announced. “Anthony,” she began, “Zofia and I had a really good chat about you.” The pleasant calm I’d retreated to whilst savouring those orange choccies was suddenly interrupted, I don’t know if she could hear my buttocks clenching but mum seemed fascinated. “Oh, why was that?” She knew she had our attention. “Well, she’d noticed Anthony was wearing a nappy... and I’m sorry to say this,” she said turning to face me for a second, “she wondered why a boy of twelve was still in them.” I flushed. I remembered that she hadn’t exactly tried to cover my awkwardness, telling her as an introduction to a woman I’d never met before that I’d pissed myself and had just been changed... and she thought I wasn’t even a teenager.... grrr. Anyway, I looked out at the passing countryside pretending I wasn’t bothered and hoping I wouldn’t have to hear a tirade of ‘old people’s disapproval’. “She wondered if perhaps you’d had a terrible shock. So, I mentioned about you occasionally having night time accidents when you get a bit scared.” She paused and thought for a moment, “She was fascinated to hear about the lightning strike you witnessed. She wondered if that had perhaps turned into some kind of irrational fear and wearing a nappy had become, like, a security blanket.” It’s amazing that people had opinions and explanations for something only I was experiencing. Meanwhile, mum was sort of making agreeing mumbles and I heard the word ‘perceptive’ mentioned. I wasn’t happy that my need for a nappy was the topic of discussion because I didn’t see that it was anybody else’s business. Of course, now I was suddenly dragged back from quite enjoying the ride to being the centre of attention, I squirmed uneasily in the thick padding that the woman I was hoping to silence had fitted me in. I couldn’t have it both ways I suppose. She went on about how they’d sat out in the back garden and over several cups of tea, deliberated in general how certain things affect people in different ways. How anxiety and shear fear play such an important part in a young person’s development and how it was a shame I’d suffered on and off for most of my life. I harrumphed my disapproval in the back seat but mum kept interjecting her thoughts and so the conversation continued. She did eventually get round to saying to her sister that I was a lovely boy - polite, well-mannered and very friendly, which she was keen to add she couldn’t say about many youngsters on our estate. We’d been driving for about thirty minutes when that little tit-bit came about and it was just nice to hear something I didn’t have to justify. “... and then she asked me if I saw Stefan in you?” This sudden turn in conversation took me by surprise because her youngest son wasn’t someone she’d talked about before. In fact, I remembered mum saying many moons ago that he was a subject that they never discussed. Mum was quick on the uptake. “And do you?” “I see what I could have had with Stefan had I treated him like you treat Anthony.” There was a catch in her voice and a slight sob as she searched in her large handbag for a tissue. “If only I hadn’t been so damn stupid.” She dabbed at the tears. # Although always nice to me I’d simply assumed she was really just a ‘stuck in her ways’ type of old lady. I’d never seen her get emotional before and it came as a bit of a shock. However, I saw this wasn’t a party piece or someone looking for sympathy and I felt sorry for her. If the seat belt hadn’t restricted my movements I’d have probably reached over and offered a consoling hand on her shoulder... or something. “Are you OK?” Yes I know it was a stupid question but it was the only one at that moment I could come up with. “Would you like me to pull over?” Mum’s was a more practical suggestion. “No love you’re alright... it’s just me... I’m sorry.” She said trying to hide her sorrow. “Mum, I think you should pull in as soon as you can... let Mrs Symanski get some air.” Was my next attempt to come up with something better than “Are you OK?” A few hundred yards later we’d driven down a minor road, which led to a village. We parked up by a small pond surrounded by trees but dominated by a large weeping willow. There was next to no other traffic but the sun dappled the area in a soft light and, although not as warm as it had been recently, it set a relaxing scene. I undid my seat belt and rested my hand on the old lady’s shoulder. I could tell she was really suffering and I didn’t know why but my natural empathy took over. “Take your time but... do you want to talk about it?” Hell, I suddenly sounded like Doctor Ames. Meanwhile, mum had got out and gone to the boot of the car and retrieved a large box of tissues and a bottle of water. If there had been one around I’m sure she would have taken us to a pub but she was as concerned as I was that this old lady was suddenly looking her age. Of course she was a bit reticent at first but mum has a way of making it easier for people to talk. A couple of sighs, a few understanding looks, an empathetic hug and before we knew it... we got what had brought on her weepy state. This tactic had worked on me hundreds of times. “He’ll be forty in two weeks’ time,” she shrugged and sighed, “and I’ve not seen or heard from him since, on his sixteenth birthday, he upped and left home.” “Oh dear Lena,” mum proffered the box of tissues, “what happened?” # Over the next hour Lena Symanski became a different person as she wept and told her story of how, after her husband died in an accident at work, she fell apart. The rest of the family also suffered but worst affected of all was her youngest, ten year-old Stefan. The news of Mr Symanski’s death was devastating for everyone but it had the effect on young Stefan who was so inconsolable he started to wet the bed. Lena herself was finding it hard to deal with the loss and spiralled out of control. Although her eldest daughter Anna was married and living in Poland, and her eldest son Tomaz married and working in Australia, she was finding it difficult keeping a roof over the rest of the family’s head. Husband, Victor, had been the supervisor on a building site, and the company was trying to blame him for the accident. A large crane came apart, plummeted to the ground, killing the operator and four others on the ground, Victor among them. The company had a very effective group of lawyers that held up any compensation and dragged the proceedings slowly through the courts. What little savings the Symanski’s had was swallowed up by the mortgage, whilst Lena had taken the trauma badly, finding solace in the bottle and too distraught to care much about anything, or anybody else. Her grief was, as she said, ‘unbearable’. I wondered what on earth had gone on between the two sisters for her to open up the way she was. Perhaps it’s just the thought of her son reaching forty that had set her off but in truth I was a bit shell-shocked as the story unfolded. Trauma affects people in different ways and she was hit badly. So, whilst dealing with all that, she couldn’t cope with her son wetting the bed and took all her anger and frustrations out on the poor lad. Even though it was her who insisted he wore a nappy to bed she ridiculed a boy of his age waking up wet. Sometimes, in the morning, because she was past caring, she’d make him wear the soaked item to school, where he was ostracised by his school mates. She didn’t care she thought he deserved it, that he was doing it on purpose, and he should stop because he was too old to wet the bed. Shamefaced she admitted that year after year, as his incontinence got worse, she just continued blaming and verbally, and sometimes physically, abused him using the most degrading names and spanking the poor boy for making extra laundry. He had always been a slight lad, not one to argue or cause trouble (I saw why her sister had wondered if she saw me in Stefan). A boy to be protected not attacked but still she didn’t let up. She’d convinced herself that he was doing it just to annoy her or as an act of attention seeking and it was only her youngest daughter Katarina who really acted as mum and changed, washed and consoled the suffering Stefan. Even in his teens the lad was made to wear a nappy because his wetting became a daily problem. But the constant put downs from his mother were hurting and he needed to get away. Since her husband’s death they’d lived hand to mouth but her youngest’s bruises, both physical and mental, were taking their toll. His mother had no sympathy and, after six years of abuse, on his sixteenth birthday (no party had been organised) she came home to find Katarina saying he’d packed a bag and left. “I wasn’t worried.” She proclaimed in a weepy voice. “He had nowhere to go so I expected him to return, with his tail between his legs and begging for forgiveness.” She let out a roar of emotion. “Damn it, I should have been the one asking for forgiveness.” The emotional barrier broke further and both mum and I hugged a sad, lonely old woman on a bench over-looking a village pond. The weeping willow couldn’t have been more apt. # We all sat on the bench for a while in silence. For the first time in ages I felt grown up. I had sympathy and understanding of a disastrous period in Mrs Symanski life and realised how easily it was for things to go wrong. The spiralling out of control of the situation, enhanced by the bitterness at losing a loved one in such tragic circumstances, and the resulting fallout could happen to even the most innocent, it was a lesson to learn. However, I suddenly realised that I was soaked. I think I’d felt a kinship with Stefan and his horrendous treatment had seen me empathetically flood my nappy. I didn’t say anything, merely sat there considering how such an experience had eventually turned this bitter old lady around. It was mum who put a voice to the question. “Is that why you were always so supportive of Anthony when you got to know about his problem?” “Yes, I didn’t want any other parent making the same mistakes I made.” She sniffed into her tissue. That made two of us. I was so grateful my family had not reacted in any way like Mrs Symanski. “Lena, you’ve always been a good friend to me, and without your friendly advice and encouragement... well, it certainly made life easier in the way we were able to treat Anthony here.” Mum was gently stroking her hand and including me in the conversation. Mrs Symanski shrugged. “I remember the first time you came over to our house and you saw Anthony wondering around wearing a nappy and I was embarrassed. I thought at five years-old it might reflect badly on us the fact that our son didn’t appear potty-trained.” The old lady just nodded as if she was also just remembering. “Do you know what you said?” She didn’t give her chance to recollect she just ploughed on. “If a boy needs a nappy, he needs a nappy – it’s not the end of the world and you shouldn’t force him to give it up if that’s not what he needs.” Mum was pleased she remembered it so clearly. “Over the years as we got to know each other better and we had our little chats, you became a font of information about anxiety issues and how they effect a young mind. Until now I never knew why you were so amazing and understanding but I guess you’ve had a great deal of time to reflect on what happened. Meanwhile, I took in everything you said and I think it made life easier for all of us.” I was amazed that our neighbour had such an influence on mum... and as it turned out... the fact that because of her the family accepted why I still wore nappies. However, I wasn’t that sure now why she saw Stefan in me. I mean, he started wetting from grief and the constant bickering, argument and blame made his condition worse. That in no way reflected on my situation but perhaps it could have been very negative without her input. I should be grateful just in case. Mum continued in her praise of Mrs Symanski... and I’m not sure it was only to make the old lady feel better. “If Anthony was anxious and began to wet the bed... your advice was a nappy would instantly solve the problem. As he got older, and because he never complained about wearing one, it seemed the most effective way and became an easy fix. Throughout that time you always said a boy shouldn’t have to worry about a different style of underwear...” Mrs Symanski interrupted. “I had a lot of time to think of my selfishness... and stupidity once Kat got married and left home. Much too late - I hated what I’d put the family through, especially Stefan. I know I was grieving but what sort of mother treats her son...” The tears sprung into her eyes and we waited for the moment to pass. # From our shocked looks to each other I think both mum and I had been stunned by her confession. Obviously, from the way mum reacted, this information was all new to her and we saw sadness and regret in our neighbour we’d never seen before. Over twenty years without seeing or hearing if your son is dead or alive must have been one hell of a weight to carry. Especially when you blamed yourself for what happened. Then mum realised that the information about me since Mrs Symanski had been away had changed, and a whole lot of other influences, elements and data had been included into why I still wet myself. Now wasn’t a time to go into all that, and besides it didn’t help that I could feel the pooling cooling and I wanted to be in something more comfortable as soon as possible. We’d been sitting there for an age so perhaps now was the time to make a move to finish the journey home. I wasn’t sure how I could move things along so I’d be able to change at home. I don’t think either mum or Mrs Symanski had noticed I was wet but I was fidgeting a little uncomfortably on the hard wooden bench. Eventually the situation appeared to have come to some conclusion and home seemed the best way forward. As I got up to help Mrs Symanski to her feet I unconsciously grabbed my crotch to rearrange the soaked padding. The old lady noticed. “Erm, Mary, I think Anthony needs a change...” “No, no, I’m fine.” I tried to convince mum there was no urgency but she wasn’t going to be fooled and because there was a more experienced voice I was reminded that it wasn’t healthy staying in a wet nappy for too long. My protests fell on deaf ears and between them I was cajoled onto the back seat and told to remove my shorts so they could check. “Mum, you said I have to do this on my own.” I thought this was a good way around any argument, even though I was dead against having a nappy change in such an idyllic spot. “OK love then do it yourself. Have you brought any spares with you?” “No, erm, but, I...” I knew that mum had at least another change in her bag because I saw it when I was changed in the bathroom but she was right, I hadn’t thought to bring anything. Mrs Symanski took charge and simply told me to sit back and let the professionals deal with it. Mum was smiling at the way she had snapped out of her doldrums now she had a project. Of course mum’s bag contained all that was needed and I was stripped, wiped, cleaned and powdered efficiently on the back seat of her car, which seemed to be getting a bit too regular. “Muuumm.” Yes that whine again didn’t cut it as she passed Mrs Symanski each item and watched in admiration as the old lady completed the task. She had me nappied and pulling up my shorts in just a couple of minutes. “I see you haven’t lost your flair, Lena... all very professional.” Mum was smiling so, now I’d been attended to, we could continue on our journey home. I don’t think I’d ever been changed in such a lovely spot or under such circumstances and although I whined in protest, I was grateful to be wearing fresh and dry padding. This had been one hell of a trip... and now thankfully... a much more comfortable journey for me at least. # Once we’d dropped our passenger off we found the house empty, neither Jen nor dad having returned from their outings. In some ways it had been quite a gruelling, if illuminating, excursion, which was going to take time to process. To help with that, I popped on the kettle and made us both some tea. As we settled down mum began. “Well sweetheart, what did you make of all that?” Where to start? Was mum referring to the old lady’s confession, her participation in changing my nappy or her surprise involvement in my family’s attitude to me still wearing protection? “Poor Stefan,” was all I could come up with. “Yes, yes,” mum nodded in agreement, “that was such a revelation and does explain a lot as to the advice she’s given over the years.” I looked at her to explain. “Well, as you know, although your father and I have always used nappies as the first line of defence when your night time wettings began, we often wondered if it wasn’t babying you too much and you’d grow up to resent us.” I was going to comment but decided to wait. “It was Lena who advised us to not make a big thing about it, make it normal, make it so you were always dry and comfortable and then... let you make your own decision.” She looked at me to see if I reacted. “A nappy isn’t for everyone but for some it’s just what they need.” “That’s not the impression I get from Doctor Ames.” I gestured. “No, no, indeed, she and Doctor Mandip have added a different dimension to it all but I don’t think anyone is wrong.” She paused for a long while and I wasn’t sure if I had anything intelligent to add so I quietly sipped my tea. “There’s something about you Anthony that makes you unique.” There it was again something if only we knew what that something was. It was nice to hear mum thought I was unique but there again, don’t all parents think their offspring are special and unique, isn’t that their job to feel that way? Never mind, she went on. “The things you wear, the choices you make, the love and patience you have... the things you accept and never question...” She looked as if she was deliberating before saying more. “I think we’ve all got ideas, strategies and over the past few weeks you’ve had to put up with quite a lot,” mum persisted, “but I think you like the world you’ve created.” # # # ...to be continued 3 2 Link to comment
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