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SpongeBob SquareNappy 1-3

Les Lea

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I’m not sure why but SpongeBob has become a strange guilty pleasure, which for a guy my age shouldn’t be admitted to. However, despite him turning up in a couple of my stories, I want to say that I am not in league with the franchise, nor do I get a cut from the merchandise. I will admit to being enthralled by the TV show and love the crazy little guy’s exploits... and yes I am wearing SpongeBob undies as I write this story.


SpongeBob SquareNappy


It was a glorious day.

It was just me and dad and the plan had been to drive to our starting point then take the fourteen mile hike along the river bank, up into the hills before the route circled round and returned us to the car park.

At the moment, I’m standing at the top of a high rocky outcrop, staring out over the vast countryside laid out below and feeling on top of the world. The view is stunning and I’m feeling brilliant.

I’m wearing my SpongeBob t-shirt, SpongeBob shorts under which are the SpongeBob plastic pants gripping tightly to my thick yellow disposable. I have a stout pair of boots and thick socks so I’m well prepared for our ramble. I have a small backpack that has warmer clothes, water and a packed meal of sandwiches, crisps and some of mum’s wonderful chocolate cake (and no I don’t have a Krabby Patty). Attached to the zip is a SpongeBob keyring with the square little chap grinning madly at everyone who passes.

Dad is standing next to me and points out some of the distant landmarks, whilst other trekkers take in the view and smile benignly at my colourful yellow ensemble. I can honestly say my attire is unique amongst the hordes of other hikers so is getting quite a few contemptuous shrugs from the more serious walkers.

Just like an enthusiastic young scout leader dad looks wonderful in his khaki hiking outfit of shirt, shorts, boots and backpack. In fact, he got his love for rambling, camping and the countryside from his days as a Boy Scout. His fervour for fresh air and an outdoor lifestyle has been catching and I really love being out and about sharing his passion.

Dad hugs me close, pats my padded bottom and whispers if I’m okay. I’ve never felt better but I know he’s really asking if I’m wet... I am but pretend I’m not.

He tousled my hair and we set off on the next leg or our journey.


My parents have been very supportive of me over the last few weeks. Just after my thirteenth birthday, and for no apparent reason that I could pinpoint, I started waking up wet. Mum took to the internet and looked up my symptoms and possible cures and, backed by a doctor’s report that said there was nothing he could do, followed the simple advice the net offered.

·         No food an hour before bed.

·         Avoid fizzy and caffeinated drinks.

·         Remove any distractions from the sleeping area (computer, television, gaming consoles etc)

·         Install reduced lighting (soft coloured filter bulbs, lower wattage etc)

·         Get subject into protection as soon as possible. The subject needs to know that they’ve done nothing wrong but that it’s vital that property is safeguarded from their current predicament.

·         A period of no stimulation before bed and regular bed times.

·         Be firm but fair.

·         Be organised and once set on a course – stick with it.




Mum and dad had no problem following these simple rules and I found that my mattress was covered in a water-proof sheet and my night times started off with being well-nappied at 7pm sharp.

Of course I rebelled as much as possible, mentioning that my younger sister Gabby would laugh and I’d be ridiculed at school. Dad pointed out that he couldn’t see why as I was only wearing the stuff at home and at night so no one but family would be aware. He explained to my sister I was having problems and she should be supportive so didn’t want to hear any hurtful remarks from her.

Privately dad sat me down in my bedroom and explained that this was what was going to happen and if fussed and gave either him or mum any backchat or trouble, I would be wearing them for school.

Firm but fair... I suppose that’s how he saw it but that didn’t stop the resentment I felt about the injustice of it all. However, my protest was quite muted because after all, I was waking up wet.

My bottom lip trembled at the thought of having to wear them for school so decided to just keep any feelings well bottled up.

Before I got to wear protection mum and dad came in to my bedroom whilst I was sat at the computer. I was playing a new game that someone had come up with featuring SpongeBob SquarePants. I’d been a ‘fan’ of his TV show from when I was younger and was just a character that had stayed with me since those days. Now I know at thirteen this cartoon oddity should hold no interest for me but, and this was quite by accident, I was also wearing my SpongeBob boxers I’d had for ages and my school bag sitting on the chair in the corner had an ‘ironic’ SpongeBob keyring attached to the zipper. (Lots of the guys had equally daft stuff written or dangling from their bags, it made for easy identification should they get misplaced in the confusion of class).

I learned later that mum had taken all this in as they presented a united front about the new rules.

“Okay son, turn that off (item 3 on the –what to do agenda). From now on you can only use it when either mum or I are around and never after 7pm.”

Dad was standing over me making sure I did as I was told and the protest that started with an “Aww, can’t I just finish thi...?” disappeared when I saw the look he gave me.

“We are going to trust you to keep to this rule so the computer can stay here but should we think you’ve disobeyed us, we’ll take it away completely. Do you understand?”

I nodded but felt really depressed. I love playing games and talking on Facebook and elsewhere to my friends late at night and seven o’clock did seem incredibly early as I normally didn’t go to bed until ten-ish.

Since I got my own laptop a few months ago it had changed my life. I loved everything about it; the access to info, the ease of chatting to friends but most of all the games. I can get quite involved and some of them are quite dark and spooky. Even though they can be a bit disturbing I like them the best and often play them well into the early hours... but don’t tell mum or dad.

However, because of dad’s threat to put me in nappies for school if I protested too much I went along with their suggestions convinced that after a day or two they’d forget all about it and everything would hopefully return to normality.

However, what I hadn’t bargained for was the first night of my ‘protection’ regime. Both parents were there to, provide a united front, and after dad told me to go and get a shower mum assembled the relative items ready for my return.

I’d been wetting in my sleep consistently now for nearly a couple of weeks and though the plastic protection for the mattress had arrived after two days, I’d been waking up to wet sheets and soaked pjs. The chat with the doctor had made mum go to the easiest line of defence – making me wear security padding whilst in bed.

As I said, I wasn’t happy about this and whilst I saw the logic to this remedy (as no doubt anyone who’s ever been faced with this dilemma has had to acknowledge), I didn’t particularly want any part of it. So, when they arrived in my bedroom armed with powder, disposables and plastic pants I was none too pleased.

Having an attitude at my age is all well and good, but dad is not one to put up with me acting like a stupid, inconsiderate spoilt brat, he pointed that out fairly early on when I started arguing for arguments sake and not because I had anything to argue about. He’s a loving dad but don’t cross him. He’ll put up with just a certain amount of what he sees as legitimate defiance, after that it’s his judgement that matters.

I protested as much as I thought I dare but I didn’t want my teenage bottom being spanked as if I was a naughty little kid, which dad threatened if I continued to complain. The thing is, although dad threatens quite a lot, he rarely carries it through. As a family we all get on and he’s never disciplined me for anything... well other than a telling off if I’ve done something stupid. However, because this bed wetting was new, and I was embarrassed by it, I wasn’t too sure just how understanding he would be and decided not to test those limits.

Two sets of embarrassment on the same day would have been too much to contemplate. I tried to argue about the early time (it was only just after seven) but mum said there were going to be a few changes and I’d better get used to them. She didn’t want to leave everything to the last moment and argued that seven could quite easily be made my permanent bedtime if I preferred. Apparently, I was now going to be ready for bed the same time as my seven year old sister and as her bedtime was eight o’clock; that was now also going to be mine.

At this I really blew my top but dad said they weren’t punishing me but I wasn’t getting enough proper sleep and, according to school, my attention span was deteriorating. However, if I did want to be punished all I had to do was continue arguing.

By then mum had noisily shaken out a disposable on my bed and indicated for me to lie down so she could put it on for me. The very idea of being put back into a nappy was filling me with anger – what would people think if they found out? I just didn’t want it to happen, I knew I should be shouting, screaming abuse and generally not putting up with it and to a certain extent I did. But it was from the thought of being embarrassed rather than I didn’t think it a way to prevent stop wetting the entire bed.

I suppose, at thirteen, I thought I was over ever having to worry about such things, but there again, at my age I shouldn’t be peeing the bed either: The loud crinkle and babyish smell as, what appeared to be a small package was spread out to become quite a large padded area, was quite surprising. Meanwhile, the sudden appearance of bottles and cartons that accompanied it plus the clear vinyl pants that lay alongside, were all adding to my distress.  

“Do you have to do it... can’t I do it myself?” I begged reluctantly as I could see there wasn’t a way out of not wearing one.

Mum made the point that I’d never changed a nappy in my life so to begin with either she or dad would be there to supervise and make sure there was no chance of leakage.

With dad looking sternly on I let mum get on with what she had to do. To say I was very self-conscious would be an understatement but she was gentle and told me what she was doing and why all the way through the procedure. I didn’t want to hear about wet-wipes, nappy rash cream, bolster pads and baby powder, but she droned on about why I needed them all.

Apparently, she was quoting bits from an online parenting forum on teenagers who suddenly start peeing the bed. According to the forum of parents – a teenage son or daughter should be included in the process for their own welfare. It was to keep them inclusive, something they were involved in rather than something being done to them. I would have preferred not to hear about any of it thank you.

I was actually relieved when she eventually pulled the thing between my legs and taped it into place, as my cock was beginning to react to all the touching and rubbing, which was taking a great deal of willpower to keep under control.

Anyway, once it was done and she’d shimmied the final humiliating aspect to all this, the plastic pants, into place she pulled me to my feet and asked how it felt.

“Awkward.” I said irritably. “This is stupid I look like a two year old, please can we try something different?”

The stern face of dad was replaced by a much gentler look as he nodded approval. Now it was done and I wasn’t screaming blue murder or throwing a tantrum they seemed to relax a little. However, deep down I was seething.  Meanwhile, I just stood there feeling (and no doubt looking) a complete and utter tit.

“Don’t worry son, you’ll get used to it and at least you won’t wake up swimming in a sea of pee.”

He seemed to think that this ‘fact’ was enough reason for such treatment and that I should be glad. I wasn’t but their earlier threats hung over me so I was reluctant to moan much more.

“You’ll feel a lot better sweetheart.” Mum added though I’m not sure how she’d know that.

I shrugged as both mum and dad checked out my now padded crotch and bum. Once they were satisfied mum found my pyjamas but the bottoms were too tight as I tried to pull them on.

“Oh, we’ll have to do something about that,” she said looking a bit perturbed.

Dad said it didn’t matter I could sleep wearing just the protection but I was on the verge of angry tears so relented and asked if a pair of shorts would fit.  As it was, dad had a large pair of satin boxers, with Superman characters all over, which he’d received as a present last Christmas. He disappeared for a little while before returning waving them triumphantly in front of my eyes. I knew he was trying to take the fear, shame and self-consciousness from the situation by making it a jokey experience but I was still not overly happy. Notwithstanding my mood, surprisingly they fit reasonably well over the bulk now resting around my waist. I looked in the mirror but because I knew what was underneath it all looked huge and childish. Thankfully at least you couldn’t see anything. I think dad was pleased that he’d got rid of a pair of boxer he’d never liked or intended to wear.

We went down stairs to watch a bit of TV. I thought the constant rustling sound I made with each step was very loud but neither of my parents made a comment. Gabby was still dressed and enjoying something colourful on the Children’s Channel and there I was, in a nappy and ready for bed. I was about to complain about the injustice of this when mum called her to get ready for bed herself. She didn’t want to go as the programme wasn’t finished but I think mum caught my brooding anger and thought it would be best to act. However, dad got in first and said, “Right after your programme young lady... and no argument okay?”

“Yes daddy... thank you.”

She looked over at me as I noisily took a seat on the sofa but just turned back to the screen and continued to watch her show.

I was still seething a bit but her show finished after five minutes and mum followed her upstairs.

I switched channel but there was nothing on I particularly wanted to watch. Normally I’d be sat at my computer now and until late playing games or chatting but that was no longer an option. However, I didn’t realise just how uninteresting stuff on TV was around this time - soaps and detective series so, a big ‘YUK’ from me. However, mum liked these shows so that’s what was on.

I sat on the sofa getting used to the padding that now filled the front of my boxers. Although the actual item was soft it did feel strange having something so chunky between my legs and I was shuffling around trying to get comfy. It was quite disconcerting the way the bulge at the front pushed out the satin boxers; I thought it looked like I was afflicted with some disease of the knob. Every now and then everything seemed fine and I’d forget about it but moments later, for some reason, it was bugging me so the shuffling started again.

It wasn’t so bad when I was on my own but as soon as others came into the lounge to watch TV (after fifteen minutes my sister wearing her cartoon pjs came to join me on the sofa), I was more concerned about the noisy rustling sound that came with each action.

Gabby pulled up the leg of my boxer shorts and looked at the protection, I was about to scream at her but dad told her to behave.

“I just wanted to see...” she said upset that she’d been told off for being interested.

Dad looked at mum and she looked at dad and they both seemed to come to some rational agreement.

“Yes, sorry Gabrielle, your brother needs protection for the moment and you’ll see him wearing it at night.” Mum looked across at me. “Why don’t you show your sister what you’re wearing and then it won’t be such a curiosity to her?”

Muuummmm.” I had to bite my tongue from hurling abuse at her.

“Well, it’s up to you but the sooner she has her inquisitiveness satisfied, the sooner it won’t be anything for her to think about.”

“But it’s so embarrassing.”

“Well it shouldn’t be... that’s just what you need to wear right now... show your sister exactly what that consists of and I’m sure her interest will vanish.”

Dad confirmed he thought it was a good idea so reluctantly I stood up and eased my, sorry, his boxers down, showing off the slinky clear plastic pants which barely hid the substantial nappy underneath.

I wasn’t happy about any of this and closed my eyes in shame as my little sister ran her hand over the glossy package and said she thought it looked and felt “very nice”.

“There you go,” mum seemed pleased that her plan had such a positive result.

However, I was mortified that Gabby was stroking the padded plastic like it was one of her stuffed toys.

I stood there wondering how long I should let this go on for but both mum and dad looked on sympathetically as she continued to pat, caress and fondle its entirety.

After what seemed like ages but could really only have been a few seconds I slowly pulled up my shorts and sat down. This time the padding felt like it was welcoming my bum and surrounding it in downy comfort. The huge round bulge at the front of the boxers was due to the nappy and a build-up of air and not my dick, which, under my sister’s childish ministrations, had thankfully gone and trapped itself within the folds of the fabric.

At eight o’clock dad said it was time for bed. I assumed he just meant Gabby but as she set off for the stairs he looked back at me and said “You as well Josh.”

I was going to argue that I shouldn’t have to go to bed at the same time as my little sister but I’d grown bored with what was on TV and was quite relieved to take me and my padding out of everyone’s sight.

I heard dad whispering his good nights to Gabby in her bedroom and her kissing him “night-night” a few seconds later he came into my bedroom and sat down on the bed next to me.

“Okay slugger... thanks for not arguing and letting your sister examine your nap... er, protection. However, just to remind you; no computer or electronic games but you can read for half an hour if you can’t get to sleep immediately. We’ll be up later to check on you.”

I knew this wasn’t a particularly subtle warning but just wanted the day to end so sleep seemed a good idea. So, I wriggled and crinkled against the plastic sheet trying to get comfortable; the broad padding not helping in any way.

“You’ll get used to it.” Dad proclaimed, “Or you can stop wetting the bed... whichever happens first.”

He smiled and kissed my forehead and wished me goodnight.

I was not at my happiest so I begrudgingly offered a fake yawned “night” and turned over.

I also knew he wasn’t being nasty but his words stung a little and a petulant thought ran through my mind that somehow, by me wetting every night, it would somehow hurt mum and dad. I wasn’t sure how that would work but it gave me something to simmer on whilst trying to get comfy.

It was way too early for me to even think about sleep. I desperately wanted to switch on the computer but knew they would be on the lookout for any transgression and they’d be checking in on me all the time. That threat of wearing this outfit for school was definitely a way to suppress any defiance I might offer.

I tried to settle down but the slippery bulk didn’t help and I felt hot and uncomfortable. I tossed and turned trying to find a position I could sleep in but after just a few seconds I’d have to rearrange myself at a different angle and hope that would work.

Surprisingly I did drop off but my sleep was fitful and I kept waking up, what seemed like every fifteen minutes and then taking another quarter of an hour to drop off again. My sleep had been terrible but I was fast asleep when mum came in to wake me up for school. She pulled back the sheets and before I had chance to react, slipped a finger up the leg of my protection.

“Sorry love,” she said, “you’re soaked but the bed is lovely and dry... well done.”

I slowly came round and the loose boxers were wrapped around my knees, whilst the silky bulge had increased enormously with its wet load. The plastic pants had done a sterling job (according to mum) keeping everything in place. I complained I’d had the worst night sleep ever but she just seemed so happy the bed was dry.

I got up and waddled to the bathroom.

“There’s a blue plastic bucket in there... just throw your wet nappy in there for now and I’ll sort it later but rinse the plastic pants through whilst you’re in there.” There was a slight pause. “Don’t forget to shower well... we don’t want you going to class smelling of pee”.

I was still smarting from the fact that she’d said my wet “nappy” and now she was insinuating I smelled of piss. However, just to be sure, I did take longer than usual under the shower and using loads of gel hoped to rid myself of any kind of smell at all. Once dried and deodorised I happily put on a clean pair of boxers, a slightly tighter fit than those I’d worn over the nap... protection and put on my school uniform.

As I entered the kitchen for breakfast I noticed that Gabby was finishing her conversation with mum who smiled and said she’d “...see to it”, Gabby’s face lit up with happiness.

Although I’d been wetting at night for a few days now, I hadn’t even thought about “smelling of pee” as mum so succinctly put it and I became self-conscious at the very idea. In class all I could think about was ‘Do I smell of piss to everyone?’ and, if I did, would they equate that with me having to wear a nap.... protection? That made me very anxious.

I did get one or two comments about the way I smelled and that put me on my guard. However, they were really complaining about the amount of deodorant I’d sprayed over myself, which apparently was quite overpowering. After the third comment I took the hint to relax a little on Lynx for Men spray.

None of my friends or teachers said anything so I assumed I was okay but I still had a niggling doubt at the back of my mind so held on to my bladder’s contents for dear life, scared to even go to the boy’s lav in case I accidentally wet myself. I suppose I knew there was absolutely no logic to the way I felt but, that’s what a thirteen year-old’s paranoia does for you.

My nights were protected but school days I was desperately trying not to go to the toilet at all in case of a urinary mishap. The fact that I wet myself at night without knowing made me fearful that I might do the same in class but despite that... I was simply terrified of going to the loo. It was as if by going others would automatically know I wet the bed.

See - no logic at all.

At school I’d gone almost a week without incident accept on the Thursday and final lesson Geography. I was desperate to relieve myself but determined to last until, I got home. Unfortunately, things conspired against that idea because accidents happen. I banged into a door someone else was opening from the other side, the corner smacked in to my groin whilst the handle bashed into my abdomen, what control I had evaporated. I managed to pull my head away from the hard advancing hard wooden surface, but in doing so thrust out my hip. The edge of the speedily opening door caught me off-guard delivering a fearfully painful whack in a boy’s most sensitive area.

The result, an absolute geyser, which oddly enough we’d just been learning about, filled the front of my grey school trousers, soaking everything from my crotch on down. The pain was immense and I fell to my knees, whilst a puddle formed around me and an entire class looked on in surprise. Some were horror-struck, whilst others laughed out loudly at my cool image being brought to a soggy end.

As I was doubled up in pain my flood hardly registered, there were plenty of other excruciating sensations attacking my brain at that moment.

The problem was, once I started I couldn’t finish until I was empty, and that was a lot of piss. The teacher, who I presume didn’t think it was as serious as it was just stood there looking on and said with little concern.

“When you’re done Laxley... go get a mop from the caretaker’s storeroom.”

Eventually, and after a good couple of minutes of me still lying there convulsed in a puddle, Mr Tweedy realised that there was a problem and helped me to the school nurse. It took some time for me to slowly and painfully be dragged to her office.


Mum was called and after a brief explanation as to what had happened it was agreed I should be checked out at the hospital. We were lucky in that the daily National Health queues had died down and I got to see a doctor within an hour.

They didn’t think I’d done any great damage but suspected I’d have a nasty bruise for a few days. Mum mentioned my night time problem by way of explaining my soaked trousers, which the doctor made a note of. He suggested that if possible, and seeing as I was already using at night, I should continue to wear protection for the next few days. He looked at my heavily piss-stained trousers and, shrugging slightly, said the injury may cause me to urinate without being aware and in his opinion, “...it’s better to be safe than sorry”.

I hobbled out of there feeling none too happy but it was still painful and I was glad to get in the car and be driven home by my sympathetic mother. She’d been concerned and attentive from the moment she picked me up. I wasn’t able to tell her much as I was holding my groin and trying to hide my wet pants as best I could. My bruised ego would take a while to fix but I worried that a bashed up bladder might never get better.

“Don’t worry sweetheart,” she said looking almost as pained as I was, “I’ll get you home and in bed so you can try and relax... a couple of paracetamol should help.”

Once home mum took me straight up to my bedroom, helped me out of all the wet clothes, once I was naked she examined the injured area herself and then wiped me clean. Adding some gooey ointment for strains, which was nice and warming, plus a deluge of powder, the disposable she held wasn’t something I’d planned on.

I voiced my concerns over this but I was genuinely in pain and wasn’t in a fit state to argue too much. Mum just responded with the simple fact she wasn’t going to let me piss the bed when there was an easy solution. No matter what I said in protest she was having none of it and in the end, the struggle to wear a nappy was won by the fact I had spent all my energy on trying not to scream and cry. Eventually she wrapped me its thickness, taped me tightly in and slipped up a pair of white vinyl pants.

The entire process was painful for me to even move but I understood, for safeties-sake, it had to be done.  

Once padded and I’d slipped under the covers she went off to get something to drink to go with the pills. I could feel my groin throbbing and not in a good way as my hand slid over the soft, silky vinyl.  Mum returned with a glass of water and a couple of pills and as soon as I’d downed the lot  suggested I just lie quietly and try to sleep; sleep, she said, was the best cure for all ailments.

She was very attentive and a picture of sympathy and caring. “You poor love” she said as she stroked my brow and encouraged sleep.

There was still a pain down there but it had eased slightly. I thought I’d never doze with that particular ache in that particular place and the bulky padding but surprisingly, I dropped off almost immediately.

Mum came to wake me a couple of hours later for tea and we were both astonished that my nappy was absolutely soaked. Despite my original dispute about it we were equally grateful that she’d taken the doctor’s advice as the bed remained dry even if I was drenched.

Not only was I quite embarrassed but the warmness of the piss meant I’d only just done it and although the pain had let up a little, this only added to my shame. Mum told me that she’d change me after we’d eaten and to come down as she’d cooked something special for us all. I tried saying I wasn’t hungry but the smell of spare ribs and chips made sure I did as I was told.

“Just sling on that pair of boxers, no one will notice,” was mum’s suggestion.

Something else had changed in my bedroom since I’d napped so heavily. My computer, which I’d received for my thirteenth birthday had been removed. In its place on the desk were a couple of colourful plastic bags which I thought looked interesting but I wasn’t going to say so. I was more worried about my access to the internet.

“Where’s my laptop?” I was so distracted I forgot about the boxers.

“We’ve taken it away... its set up downstairs in the living room.” Mum said matter-of-factly.

I didn’t really need to ask why because for the past couple of nights I’d sneaked access after 7pm, which was forbidden. They said that they trusted me not use it but if I broke that trust, I would lose it. I broke that trust so had no one to blame but myself but I still thought I should try and justify myself.

“It was a present for me... it’s mine.” I snivelled. “No one should touch it but me.”

“Well it is now in the living room and available to the entire family.”

“But you and dad have your own laptop, what do you want with mine?” I was misting up at the injustice of it all.

“Well now Gabby gets a chance to learn on it... oh... and hours of use are strictly limited.”

“But that’s unfair... I couldn’t sleep so I just, you know, looked on it for a bit...”

“Don’t lie. You’ve lost our trust so don’t add to that by lying” That sympathy she’d shown just a couple of hours earlier was gone. Now she looked quite angrily at me as I stood there wearing a full nappy and shiny plastic pants. “You were on it for almost three hours... no wonder you aren’t sleeping well.”

She could tell I was just about to go into full strop mode but she just warned me against any such action unless I wanted her to tell dad “...and you know what that’ll mean.”

The threat of a spanking never seemed more real so I swallowed the anger that was building and returned to my room. Mum followed.

“Look,” she pointed to the bags on my desk, “they are a replacement present, which I hope you’ll like. I’ve gone to a lot of trouble to find these things for you so...”

I was just about to take a look.

“You can check them out after we’ve all eaten... now come down and when I change you we can see what it is then.”

My warm wet nappy had cooled considerably but I followed mum down to the kitchen... I love spare ribs... so I wasn’t going to miss them if I could help it.

I sat down in my squelchy disposable but thankfully the plastic pants kept everything contained, although there was still a strange sort of ache in my groin. It wasn’t painful, well not as painful as earlier, but was definitely uncomfortable... sort of like I’d pulled or strained something I shouldn’t have.

Mum had brought dad up to speed about my accident so he was very concerned asking how I felt. I told him about the way some of the class thought it the funniest thing they’d ever seen, and that Mr Tweedy was less than sympathetic to begin with.

“He probably realised there might be claim if he didn’t get his act together?”

“I suppose so... but he did all but carry me to the nurse.”

“Okay, well that’s good but... we might have to think about suing the school if...”

He didn’t finish his train of thought because he noticed the expanded nappy so knew I’d wet whilst I dozed. However, changing the subject  mum told him that I’d accepted the removal of the computer so there was no need for him to take any further ‘steps’.

Dad glowered at me and I felt like a stupid irresponsible little kid sat there in a wet nappy.

Having said that, dad seemed relieved that he didn’t have to give any additional discipline and that I’d been quite grown-up about accepting that flouting their trust had penalties. I noticed that Gabby was sat at the table holding her favourite doll Becky who was only wearing a nappy. Normally she has her dollies in a myriad of colourful outfits and then it struck home; Becky was copying me.

I wasn’t sure if she was mocking or what but Gabby explained when she saw me making a grimace in her direction.

“Becky is my oldest, cleverest and most favourite doll,” she clarified to everyone at the table, “she’s like my big brother... and he wears a nappy so now... so does she.”

I was furious but dad and mum both smiled and congratulated Gabby on being so understanding about my problem. Their eyes told me to take what Gabby had done as a compliment and let the subject go. I mumbled unhappily to myself but I just smiled at my sister and tousled her hair then, to stop me from speaking took a huge bite out of my small rack of ribs; even wearing a soggy nappy couldn’t detract from the fact that they were delicious.

** tbc **

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Part 2

After the meal we sat around chatting for a while. Dad was discussing the fact that on Saturday he’d like to go to our favourite beauty spot. The weather over the past few days had been wonderful and had brought out a great deal of growth, so flowers, trees and everything had a feeling of newness about them, which he was keen to photograph.

Dad is a keen, and quite good, amateur photographer. All the pictures on our walls are of images he’s photographed and had enlarged to fill some pretty big frames. The main one is of the family taken a few years ago of me, a baby Gabby and mum and dad sat on a picnic blanket.

In the background is the small but picturesque waterfall we all love and dad had been happily surprised at how well the shot came out as he’d taken it on a timer and only just got back and settled when the ‘click’ went. The light had caught us just right and gave the waterfall a sparkly shimmer. It really is a terrific picture and that’s where we were planning to re-visit on our hike.

Mum said that she and Gabby wouldn’t be able to go as my ever popular sister had a party/play date to go to and mum had volunteered to help supervise. So that left just me and dad and although at that moment I was in pain I wanted to keep on his right side if I ever wanted my laptop back, so said that I’d happily join him.

It’s a fantastic hiking spot, there’s a small river-come-stream that rolls down from the hills over rocks that make a wonderful staggered waterfall. As I’ve indicated, as a family we’ve spent quite a few of our afternoons enjoying the view and finding spots nearby for picnics and the like. If it’s not too cold the water is pleasantly shallow for kids to paddle. There are areas that feel mystical because at times it looks as you might imagine a fairy dell. Well, that’s how mum always described it and I think both Gabby and I believed her stories of actual fairy-folk being seen in the nearby wooded glade.

Eventually, sitting around the dining table in a wet disposable, I began to feel a little uncomfortable. It was strange because I think everyone had all but forgotten I was wearing my sodden protection. Once mum realised she apologised for leaving me suffering like that for too long and insisted that we go up and change immediately.

She’s really taken to this parent’s online discussion group and I’ve seen her a few times typing away and reading various articles. I know that this attitude from both of them is all down to this group because I’d never seen them act in such a way before.  Mum has always been loving and easy going... now she’s loving but determined... it’s like she’s gained extra confidence from the opinions and/or approval of other parents.

I led the way upstairs whilst mum playfully patted my plastic padded bottom at each step. I began to pull down the vinyl protection but she pointed me towards the plastic bags that occupied the space previously held by my laptop.

“Have a look and see what you think.”

I was a little intrigued because mum’s face lit up in delightful expectation but I had no idea what it was all about.

There were two bags, one blue the other white. The white one was large and looked full, whilst the blue plastic bag was smaller, she pointed to the blue one.

I tentatively brought it to my bed and let the contents spill out. It was several items of clothing wrapped in cellophane all featuring the same motif.

Mum was smiling and her eyebrows were raised in excited anticipation.

“I’ve been on a mass shopping trip to get you as many items as I could of your favourite character.”

I looked at the array of clothing that now confronted me.

“There are a couple of t-shirts and shorts, some pyjamas, socks, slippers and a zippy-up jumper... do you like them.”

I was speechless.

Staring back at me from each and every item was the grinning face of SpongeBob SquarePants.

“I know you like him,” she began to explain. “You have him all over the place...”  She pointed to the small keyring dangling from the zipper on my school backpack.

She was talking but I wasn’t listening. I was trying to think why on earth she would think a thirteen year-old would want to be surrounded by this cartoon oddball.

“...and I noticed the other night you playing a game that featured this little chap... so I knew you...”

However, as daft and as stupid as it was, there was something about the wacky, eccentric, innocence of this strange yellow creature that did appeal, it was perhaps that I wasn’t aware of just how much. I often watched his show with Gabby and we both seemed to like its absolute madness. We loved that his best mate was a starfish, he lived under the water and a pineapple was...

“... so I hoped, because of what other mum’s had said, that these things would be a fun substitute.”

Mum finished talking and looked at me hopefully.

She then looked over at the other package. “Oh, sorry about this,” and became quite apologetic. “This bag contains some new fabric nappies, a large bag of disposables and,” she went and grabbed whatever was at the top of the white bag, “... these.”


My mother held up a pair of SpongeBob plastic pants and laughed, no, giggled at what she held.

“I thought they’d go better, and be a lot more fun, than the boring white or clear plastic pants you’ve had to wear.”

I didn’t know what to say. I was horrified at the childish display of clothing, appalled that’s how mum saw me as a little kid and dismayed at the enthusiastic way she was holding up the plastic pants, as if she’d found the very thing that would make my life complete.

Stunned though I was I knew I’d have to say something but what? This was all ridiculous. I might stop my night time wetting tomorrow and then there’s all this stuff for no reason. I thought mum was being short-sighted but she had gone to a lot of trouble. I mean, I wasn’t sure if I complained dad would see that as an act of rebellion and I’d get a spanking so, was it worth taking that chance?

She thought my silence was because of stunned happiness and immediately pulled out a fresh white fabric nappy from the white bag.

“Okay soggy pants; let’s get you into something drier.”

At that moment both dad and Gabby appeared in my doorway.

“So, that’s what you’ve been planning?” Dad said looking a little uncertain at the weird looking character that occupied the surface of all the clothing.

“I didn’t know he even liked... erm...”

“Yeeaaahhh... SpongeBob SquarePants.” Gabby enthusiastically squealed helping dad out. “He’s great fun... we watch him all the time.” She added helpfully to mum.

Mum knew she’d chosen the right gift, part to replace the laptop (although I didn’t know that was part of the deal) but she thought that wearing a nappy was a bit depressing for me and wanted to make it all more fun. A more “pleasurable experience” she’d told dad that’s what was recommended online by other, more practised parents. Dad looked at all the yellow, shrugged but nodded his reluctant approval.

“Well, if it makes things easier on the lad... why not?” He ruffled my hair.

“Make things easier?” I thought. Why would these childish pieces of crap make things easier? This was ridiculous. Mum thought I’d like these stupid damn things... she seemed totally oblivious to how inappropriate they were for someone my age.

“I think they’re great.” Gabby was looking at the plastic pants laid next to me on the bed and saw mum getting my new nappy ready. “Can I have some...”

“That’s enough for the moment I need to change your brother so... scoot.”

Mum watched Gabby leave and then told me to lie out. I wasn’t happy about it but she’d been so excited about pulling all this merchandise together that I felt a little guilty that I didn’t care. I kept quiet as she pulled down my plastic pants and unburdened me of my old and very used disposable.

The wet wipes were cool and smelled ‘minty’ for the initial clean up. Once she was satisfied all was dry and as it should be she slipped the new thick fleecy soft fabric nappy under my butt.

“You’ve been saying that you found it hard to get comfortable wearing the disposable on a night so I thought we’d try something different.” She smiled. “Well, I suppose it’s not that different, you used to have these when you were a baby...” she laughed, “...and you never complained then.”

I think she was giggling at her own joke because as a baby I was in no position to complain about anything. I wanted to scream and throw a tantrum. I wanted her to know this was the stupidest and most inconsiderate thing anyone had ever thought up... and yet... I didn’t. That’s because, SpongeBob still made me laugh. There is just something about this goofy character that still appeals even though I should be past having such a favourite.

It’s like some grown-ups who still cling to their Batman or Superman comics, it’s childish and stupid and, did I mention... childish but that doesn’t seem to matter. What matters is the link that still persists. It’s also why you can buy Superman satin boxers for your dad because somewhere there’s a market for such an item. Mind you, that doesn’t include my dad. I think that’s the same with me and SpongeBob though I didn’t realise just how much until confronted by all this merchandise.

“Any way, let’s see how these go tonight and we’ll keep reassessing until we get it right. One thing is for sure... now the ‘temptation’ has been taken away you can get to sleep at a proper time.”

She meant the computer had gone so that was a dig at my complaint I couldn’t sleep.

“No more late night battles, or levels, or car chases, shoot-outs or whatever... you can now just sleep when you get to bed.”

She pinned me tightly in then shuffled the SpongeBob plastic pants up and over the soft but abundant bulk.

“It’s half six and I don’t think you’ve plans on going anywhere so I might as well get you ready for bed now...”


“I said ready for bed I didn’t say you had to go.”

Her look told me that if I argued I would be going to bed there and then so I kept quiet again, which is very unlike me but I’m at a disadvantage. I’d like to really lose my temper and have a go at everything but I’m thirteen and wetting the bed and, even though it isn’t my fault I had of course recently wet my pants at school, I didn’t feel I was in much of a position to complain about this treatment.

Also, the doctor had inferred that as a result of the injury my bladder might release more piss when I was least expecting it... so it was probably best to be secure.

Mum then emptied one of the cellophane packets and out slipped a pair of heavily endorsed SpongeBob pyjamas.

“I love these,” she said as she spread them out and held them up for me to see. “As soon as I saw them I thought how brilliant they’d look on you. Don’t you think they’re fun?”

At that moment something got checked in my brain and I mean, something actually clicked and I was looking at things from a different perspective... but don’t ask me why cos I have no idea.

Although I wanted to scream ‘No’ I had to admit that my family, and especially mum, had been really supportive about my ‘damp’ problem. It had been, and probably still would be, a lot of extra work for her, yet here she was giving me gifts that she hoped would make my ‘sentence’ a little easier. She may have lost her cool occasionally but still ended up being compassionate, reassuring, thoughtful and kind. She actually assumed the silliness of SpongeBob would make my current wet situation far more acceptable. What she didn’t realise was that what it really did was make me feel I was being treated as a six year-old.

Dad and Gabby were the same. I may have momentarily despised dad for removing my computer but I’d brought that on myself... I’d agreed to rules which I then promptly ignored. It was me who was behaving like a child but I was wetting at night as a teenager. So, considering all this, I shouldn’t act like a spoilt toddler... even if I thought I now might look like one over-indulged tot.

No doubt mum had done her research and read something about this type of thing on the net and had bought all this stuff, not to belittle me but to make me feel better about myself. I was going through a strange time and this recent accident was just something else to contend with. She really did think I had a ‘thing’ about that little yellow character with the goofy smile and wanted his silly, joyfulness to help me over my current difficulty. I could almost see her reading and agreeing with some ‘pop’ psychologist about ‘substitute’ behaviour: If you take something away replace it with something different to ease the loss. Of course that might not have been the case at all; she might just have wanted to be nice.

She excitedly slipped the pyjama top over my head. The material was a thin, soft polyester/Elastane blend that was very stretchy, which was helpful when she then noticed that the bottoms were really just loose shorts. However, there was no problem as they expanded easily to encompass my bulky nappy.

So, there I was, dressed in my SpongeBob pyjamas and nappy at six-thirty in the evening looking like a dumb little kid. I was hoping I didn’t look like one but here’s the thing, I quite liked what I was wearing. I’d got a kick out of wearing those Superman boxer shorts because there was still a bit of a kid inside who clung to his childhood, even if he didn’t want to admit it. This was even better because I could convince myself that I was being made to wear all of it. I had no choice if anyone asked.

When Gabby saw me she said she was jealous because she loved my new jammies and immediately asked mum if she could get a similar pair. Mum smiled and said she’d think about it but mentioned that the store had other designs, perhaps she’d like to take a look and pick something out for herself. She turned to the laptop, my laptop, typed in something on the browser and a page of items came up. I saw from Gabby’s expression there was a great deal she liked and started chatting about which were her favourites.


Meanwhile, I was getting used to the thick fabric nappy mum had put me in. Up until that point I’d just had disposables, which for some reason when worn with plastic pants at night became an annoyance. However, these fabric ones were very bulky but seemed to be offering a comfort which surprised me. Even with the extra booster padding I needed at night because of the volume I pissed, they felt really nice to sit around in.

Also, the pain in my groin was just a dull ache at the time though I don’t know if that was down to the pills mum made me take, or the warming lotion she rubbed in to my abdomen or simply the passage of time. However, in general, they gave me a feeling of pampered safety.

The fabric of my jammies was tight and stretchy but it was also quite thin. I could just make out the plastic images of SpongeBob through the other SpongeBob material and for some reason that made me start to giggle to myself... very SpongeBob-like.

It didn’t hide the nappy outline in the least and at times the shorts peeled over the silky plastic to reveal precisely what I was wearing. I didn’t mind, everyone in the house knew about my protection so there was no need to hide anything.

Whilst mum and Gabby were choosing her new pyjamas, dad was out in the garden fixing something, so I was left to my own devises watching TV. Gabby had been watching her channel when I came down for the meal and it was still on. She’d got into a new colourful animated kids programme that I’d never heard of but as luck would have it, guess who was ‘coming up next’, as the little caption in the corner announced – SpongeBob.

I felt silly because I was really pleased. In fact, I began chuckling to myself in anticipation even before the credits had rolled on the last show. I thought I was dressed to impress should Bob and his pals be able to see out of the screen. As he came on I was absent-mindedly stroking the huge slippery bulge in the front of my jammy shorts and giggling at the manic storyline. At that moment I was enjoying the circumstances more than I’d ever enjoyed anything before.

Dad came in for a brief moment and saw my enthusiasm.

“Well love, it seems you were correct,” he said to mum. “The new clothes appear to have worked... I’ve not seen him look so cheerful for quite some time.”

He was right, I’d forgotten I was a teenager with attitude and for the moment just a lad who was having fun. So it didn’t matter how old I was.

I looked across at mum as she helped my excited sister find what she desired and wanted to tell her... well... it sounds soppy when I think about it but... I just wanted to say ‘thanks’ and that I loved her.

“SpongeBob’s on.” I called across to Gabby.

“Yea... goody!” She hopped down from sitting with mum and joined me on the sofa so we could watch together.

Time seemed to go pretty quickly and soon it was eight o’clock. Mum had already whispered for Gabby to go and get changed and dad asked if I was okay. It came as a shock because I was just beginning to feel the warmth spread around my balls.


Dad didn’t seem all that surprised he just said that the doctor mentioned I might be a bit numb ‘down there’ and not to worry too much if I did what I was doing without knowing.

“Okay,” dad said with a huge grin on his face, “let’s ‘sponge’ you down... and ‘bob’ you in another nappy.”

He seemed mighty pleased with himself to have come up with such a lame joke.

I smiled and scrunched up my nose at the same time, as if to say ‘that was pathetic’ but he just pointed upstairs so I knew he was going to do the change this time.


Once the jaunty new SpongeBob plastic pants were off and the pins unpinned the fabric nappy appeared none the worse as the soaker pads had taken on just about all of what I’d let loose. Dad wiped me down but inspected the area and confirmed that I had a bit of bruising. He heard mum calling from Gabby’s room not to forget to use a certain cream so went back to the dresser and found the one recommended.

“Does this go on before or after the nappy rash cream?” He shouted across the hall.

“Instead... but use plenty of powder as well for tonight. Oh, and use a couple of the soaker pads please...”

I reckoned that half the neighbourhood would now know I was wearing a nappy such was the volume they were discussing my protection.

Dad did as instructed. He pulled the soft new fabric nappy tightly together, which caused the soaker pads to flatten my dick against my abdomen. I winced a little.

“Sorry, sorry... I’ll loosen the pins and let the pants and jammies hold the thing up... okay?”

I nodded.

He sniffed the new plastic SpongeBob pants, pulled a face and said they smelled a bit too plasticky and that he’d give them a soapy wash before I wore them again, then substituted my old but thick white vinyl pants in their place, which to me smelled just as plasticky.

Once complete he pulled back my bedding and invited me to get in. It still seemed pretty early but I didn’t think I could argue so climbed in. He patted my massive padded bottom and said he hoped the bruising would have lessened by the morning. He then kissed my forehead before wishing me goodnight.

The ache in my groin had almost disappeared but when I gently prodded my abdomen I could still feel where the door knob had smacked into me and that wasn’t a pleasant memory at all.

It had been a strange day and although I couldn’t help wetting whilst I was asleep, it did worry me that I’d also wet a couple of times when awake. I was brooding on that when surprisingly I drifted off.


I hadn’t dreamt for ages, well, I couldn’t remember any recent dreams but this one was colourful, mad and most enjoyable - it involved me, Gabby and the entire cast of SpongeBob. Somehow we two humans had been dragged into their underwater world and ended up also being cartoon characters.

None of what we did made sense as my sister spent most of the dream arguing with Mr Krabs and Squidward about the best way to cook toast. She morphed from being a girl into becoming a sea anemone but they kept referring to her as the enemy so argued constantly with her. She was insistent that it was the latest ‘thing’ from Gay Paree and Mr Krabs should have it as the main item on his menu. Meanwhile, I saved Patrick and SpongeBob from being locked in a treasure chest – our hero had been cleverly enticed there (by whom was never clear) by being offered gold and diamonds, which he thought would look nice adorning his pineapple.

“Ooohhh, nice sparkle,” became our toothy hero’s constant refrain.

There wasn’t an end to the story; I just woke up to find that the pleasant warm water of Bikini Bottom was in fact me filling my nappy.


I groggily looked across at my bedside clock and noticed I’d only been in bed for about half an hour. I briefly thought about getting up and asking mum to change me but decided against it. Thinking that I’d probably wet at least once more before the real getting up time so I might just as well let my nappy do what it’s supposed to do. Besides, I wanted to get back and help out my new ‘friends’.

Unfortunately, I didn’t return to the dream but did wake up at 7am more soaked than I could ever recall being in the past. Even my plastic pants were showing signs of dampness so I knew I’d had one hell of a wetting session. I wasn’t proud but extremely glad dad had fitted me in a big nappy with those extra soaker pads. I may be thirteen but times like that I was glad I’d worn such colossal protection as it could have been awful... I might have joined SpongeBob in a life under sea, or much worse... a life under pee.

I lay there trying to remember, and then making sense of, my SpongeBob dream (and chuckling at my joke). It was hopeless; all I remembered was that I had a fantastic time chasing around with my new pals. So, despite my wringing wet nappy, I was in a remarkably good mood.

Mum came in and inspected the damage; luckily it had all been kept in my protection. She still checked the bed and was relieved it had survived then got me up and stripped me naked. Then I was sent to the bathroom to use the toilet and take a shower. When I returned mum and dad were chatting and I noticed they were ready with another nappy.

Before I had chance to react mum said that they thought it wise, because the bruising might still cause random wetting, I should wear protection until we were sure everything was okay. Dad added that it was just a precaution but was certain that I’d rather have a wet nappy than wet pants and rubbed the towel through my hair to make sure I knew this was a friendly suggestion.

I’d not thought about wearing a nappy during the day and was a little distracted by their proposal. I didn’t want my friends to see, which of course was stupid because the entire school would have heard about my spectacular wetting in class. However, I might get away with that for the accident it was, though I’m sure if they saw me wearing a nappy, other comments would be more forthcoming.

“I think you deserve a day at home.” Dad looked at my bedraggled state. “I’ll call school and tell them we’re keeping you home as you’re in such pain. It’ll give them something to think about if I infer there might be legal ramifications.”

With that he kissed mum and went off to work.

I wasn’t sure what to do but mum took charge.

Despite it being pretty nice for the past few days, the weather was dull and drizzly, so wasn’t a day to go out and play with friends... and they’d be at school anyhow. In fact, it wasn’t a day for doing much of anything so I opted for catching up on the computer, playing a few games and chatting via the web. It also meant that if I had to wear a nappy all day, no one else would need to know about it... so that was the plan.

All this went through my mind as mum got me to lie out and proceeded to envelop me in coatings of lotion, powder and layers of fabric. She added the soaker pads and pinned me in and looked around for my SpongeBob plastic pants, I told her what dad had said the night previously, so she just nodded and went and got a new pair of clear vinyl pants to finish off the job.

She asked what I wanted to wear but, as I wasn’t going anywhere, opted for a return to my pyjamas as I’d found them very comfortable and they easily covered the bulk around my waist. Mum nodded enthusiastically pleased that her colourful choice had been so readily accepted. I went down to breakfast dressed almost the same as I had for tea the day before. Gabby was sat at the breakfast table in her school clothes and said she wanted to stay home with me but mum was having none of it.

I was left to my own devises for twenty minutes whilst she took her to class and then returned with a smile and asked what I wanted to do today. Surprisingly, I spent most of the day in bed trying to sleep but did get up for meals and to watch a bit of TV.

It was a very unspectacular day off from school. The ache in my crotch and the prospect (and actuality) of a wet nappy seemed to take up most of the day until Gabby came home. No matter what she’d done at school, as it turned out, all she wanted was to play a new game on the laptop which featured SpongeBob, so for a couple of hours that was what we did. It was a daft game but I was also teaching my little sister how to use a computer because up until then, she’d shown little or no interest in such technology.

She parked herself between my legs so I was looking over her shoulder showing her what to do. Occasionally she’d press back and sit in my padded lap as if it was a nice comfy chair; I was pleased my padding was providing her with a nice spot to sit as we played our game.

She was delighted with herself when she went to the browser and was able to open the page which showed the range of new pyjamas. She pointed out the ones she liked and I was quite surprised at just how expensive they were (THANKS MUM) but she’d chosen a pair of pale blue ones with unicorns and rainbows all over them, which I assumed was from the new show she liked. However, mum pointed out that all young girls love ponies, horses and the top of the wish list - unicorns.

Actually, despite my initial resentment of having to now share my laptop, it was fun and she was more than happy to go off and do something else whilst I caught up on my emails. I was going to Skype my mates but decided against that and settled down to a game against my friend Dek. It was one we’d been playing against each other every chance we got but thankfully, it was one you could pause and go back to when you needed a break.

Alas, I had to bring this to an early end when I felt the tell-tale warming glow around my cock. I was completely numb down there and didn’t know I was peeing until it was all over. My parents had been correct to have me wear a nappy ‘on doctor’s advice’ and despite hating the fact I was wetting without knowing, appreciated their wisdom.

I told mum about the accident and sort off thanked her for insisting I wear protection, she just pointed upstairs and we went off to change once more. Exactly the same procedure as before except she used wet-wipes to clean my damp areas. She lathered on thicker anti-rash cream and slipped a fresh fabric nappy into place.

“Are you finding these any better than the disposables?”

It seemed odd that our conversation was about nappies.

“I slept fine in them,” I was finding it peculiar, to say the least, to be discussing things like this, “and they’ve been OK so far.” I thought I added that non-committedly.

She nodded tightening the grip as she pulled the soft fabric up between my legs.

Whereas yesterday, when dad did this I could feel some pain, now I didn’t feel anything as she pinned it into place. The same pair of clear vinyl pants shuffled up my legs completed the process.

“There you are sweetheart, all safe and secure,” she kissed me on the forehead.

She handed me my pjs and I slipped back into their friendly and comfy embrace.


During the early evening grandad made an unscheduled appearance. Normally on a Friday he’d be snowed under working in the office of the kitchen/bedroom design and fitting company he owns but today he found time to visit. Dad is one of the chief designers but is often out on calls, seeing what customers want and showing them the various ideas for their planned space. He doesn’t do any of the fitting; grandad has a team of guys who do all the heavy lifting and installing. Anyway, I was a bit shocked dressed as I was in pjs and a thick nappy when he arrived.

As always, he made a fuss of Gabby and then turned to me and took me quite by surprise.

“Whoa, SpongeBob,” he said with a certain amount of pride. “Gonna have to get me a pair of those for next time I babysit your cousin Jeany.”

Both my grandparents had regularly babysat Gabby and me when we were toddlers, and still occasionally did, but I suppose now he and grandma are doing the same for Aunty Pat and her younger kids.

“Jeany and Billy love that strange little guy,” grandad was saying, “and he tickles me as well.”

My cousin Jean is just a month younger than Gabby, whereas Billy is only three, the baby of the family. Aunty Pat is dad’s younger sister and she’s married to a policeman Darren who used to scare me whenever he visited wearing his dark official uniform.

“Anyway,” he said, “I’ve heard you’ve been in the wars.”

Despite his obvious approval of my jammies, I was embarrassed that at thirteen I wore children’s pjs and was wearing a nappy.

We hugged in greeting and he patted my padded bottom.

“Well, I think someone is being very sensible.”

I wasn’t sure if he was taking the mickey but he was smiling when he said it.

I didn’t know what to say. It was obvious mum or dad had told him what had happened at school.

“I remember doing something similar when I was twenty-one.” He was looking me in the eye and had a semi-serious expression on his face. “I was carrying a painting back into the stockroom at Kendal’s (his first job) when I ran smack bang into the corner of a heavy mahogany table someone was taking out to the van for delivery.”

He grimaced as he remembered... and so did I.

“God, I can remember the pain now... I was completely floored.” He was grabbing his groin much like I had done at school. We both knew the pain that produced.

“Anyway, I was young, healthy and not about to let a little thing like excruciating pain stop me from doing my job, so in complete discomfort, I set about the rest of my day.”

Grandad had sat me down and was now only really talking to me.

“The pain grew throughout the day but my bits and bobs stopped having any control and I peed my pants twice before I got home. I was embarrassed to say the least but thought I’d hidden the wet stains pretty well... but I hadn’t. So, when I got home mum, your great grandma, asked what had happened.”

He sighed a little.

“She listened to my explanation and advised me to take precautions but I wouldn’t listen... no. That night at the pub I had to pretend I’d spilt my beer and in the morning my bed was soaked.”

He patted my full protection.

“I wished I’d taken my mum’s advice because I suffered several embarrassing damp spots and wet nights before I followed her wise words. Thankfully, my stupidity has not been passed down to you young ‘uns and you seem to have taken the correct measures...” 

“Did you have any lasting damage?” I warily enquired.

“Thankfully not. I married your grandma a couple of years later and your dad and Aunty Pat arrived so... all was well.”

He smiled and again patted my thick padding.

“This...” he said as he got up to move, “very wise. Is your father around?”

I nodded and thought what a strange encounter it had been. However, mum came in and said that she hoped I wasn’t feeling embarrassed at having to wear a nappy and hoped grandad’s tale would help put things in perspective.

I shrugged a little and then cheekily told mum that she’d better get grandad a pair of SpongeBob pyjamas... as he’s also a BIG fan.


Saturday morning, and after another extremely wet night dad asked if I was sure I wanted to go on the hike he’d planned. I wanted to test myself and, as the weather had changed and the forecast was positive, I nodded yes.

We went down to breakfast together, me still in my soggy nappy and joined mum and my sister. As they had plans for later it was mainly me and dad who chatted enthusiastically about what we hoped to see on our trek. Dad had a new camera he was keen to try out and wanted to get off as soon as possible in the hope of avoiding any rush of day trippers. Mum had already made us sandwiches and gathered together a few things for our hike and crammed them in our backpacks, so that was one less job to worry about.

Dad followed me back upstairs and helped me out of my soggy mess. I spent a few minutes in the bathroom cleaning up and when I returned Gabby and mum were waiting.

“I just want to check that you’re not getting a rash... you’ve had a couple of bad nights so...”

She removed my towel without asking, which annoyed me a little as I’m not a kid, but I saw she was serious about me not suffering as a result of my ‘problem’. She scooped up a couple of fingers full of antiseptic cream and smeared it in. Baby powder came next and then she slipped a new yellow disposable under my bum.

“I’m sure you’d rather not wear one of these for your outing but, I’m not convinced you’ll be able to stay dry all day and this is a precaution both your dad and I think you need.”

I was on the verge of saying in that case I didn’t want to go but dad came in all enthusiastic and told me to get a move on. Then Gabby piped up that she thought I should wear the SpongeBob plastic pants so before I knew it my entire outfit was dedicated to my yellow chum. My little sister was beaming and without realising it we were both repeating some of his silly catchphrases as I finalised my look.

This was strange; it was like I’d caught SpongeBob-itis. Whenever Gabby started gleefully repeating lines from the show, I had to join in and before I knew it we were reliving the experience of SpongeBob’s world. We’d both try and mimic the characters (pretty dreadfully) but would still have us giggling like two four year olds.

There was no doubt as far as I was concerned that SpongeBob made me happy. Even the nappy and plastic pants held no fear for me, in fact, I’d come to rely on them for preventing any dampness from spreading. The t-shirt and shorts, all with my spongey hero emblazoned all over them, were soon in place, much to Gabby’s approval. What was amazing - the more I wore all this stuff, the more I wanted to wear it. 

I think mum was pleased that her work going into finding all these items had paid off and, despite making me appear a little younger than my age, quite liked the fact that I’d probably be the only one on the hike fully branded. Dad chuckled when he saw what I was wearing and said that I’d be impossible to lose in such a bright outfit.


Janice Laxley sat at her laptop wanting to acknowledge how helpful the forum she’d followed had been.

She wasn’t too sure why she chose the SpongeBob character except she’d seen a couple of his images already in her son’s room and that had set everything off. The sad thing for her was, once she started buying a couple of things, that kookie smiling face had encouraged her to buy more and more items. As it turned out, she was as entranced with him as her son was.

Whenever a link led to another page of merchandise she’d automatically click and soon, her clicking meant that soon a huge array of items featuring that yellow charismatic oddity were being delivered. It had taken just a few days to pull it all together but got pretty excited to see her son’s reaction - she just KNEW he’d LOVE it.

Now she just wanted to thank those contributors who had encouraged her.

To: reply@Parentsonparenting.co.uk

From: J.Laxley

May I thank the forum for all the advice I’ve received regarding my teenage son who has suddenly started wetting the bed, after not doing so for over nine years.

He was very down about being returned to wearing a nappy at night but we also noticed that his sleep patterns were all over the place and school work was suffering. So, as advised, I removed all distractions from his room including the computer.

However, I also put into practice all the key elements but wanted to highlight an aspect that one of your readers suggested but I wasn’t sure would work. ‘If you take something away substitute a different item.’  

I did just that and am happy to report my son sleeps better, has become more animated, cheerful, full of life and laughs a great deal... and a bonus... he’s even interacting more with his younger sister.

I just want to thank everyone on here for their erudite advice.


Janice Laxley

Janice re-read the short note and self-consciously giggled at her little joke (animated) knowing full well that no one else would know the reference. However, if all this went well, and Josh continued in his current state, she promised herself to write a full report with her experiences. Maybe it would help others facing a similar situation with their teenage bed-wetters.

The other thing she noticed about her son was that when he had his SpongeBob stuff on he seemed a different boy, far more relaxed, more boyish... in fact, more like the character he was wearing. She made a note of this ‘change’ because she wondered if it was down to the nappies or the outfit... or both. She’d keep an eye on this development because she wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing. For the moment though, she saw it as a positive and it seemed the entire family had rallied round their own SpongeBob in the house.


** tbc **

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I'm glad you're still enjoying the story despite not knowing who SpongeBob is... I wonder if that's the same for a number of folk because this isn't resonating with that many people.?

I shall just have to buckle down and come up with something else... though I'll finish this one off first.

Hope all is well in Malyworld.


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  • Les Lea changed the title to SpongeBob SquareNappy 1-3

Part 3

It was nice just me and dad being out together and when we arrived the car park it was still relatively empty so knew the planned course wouldn’t be too crowded. Dad had been gently ribbing me all the way on the journey about my bright yellow outfit but had to admit he’d rarely seen me so keen.

“I’m really pleased to see your enthusiasm return Josh. You’ve been hidden away behind that computer screen for so long... well... all I’m saying, this is so much better.” He patted my shoulder and I don’t think I’d felt as close to dad as I did at that moment... and liked the relationship we had.

However, it was true. Since I turned thirteen and got my own computer that had occupied most of my time. It was instant, entertaining and kept me in touch with all of my friends at the press of a key. The games had been the best bit, they could (and did) keep me busy for hours and hours and it was always a boost when I reached a new level - it was instant gratification, a rise in self-esteem and a boost to my young ego. It is strange how being invisible in a game can transfer to deludingly feel equally invincible in real life.

I wanted to feel invincible like the characters in the war games I was playing. I wanted that next level.

The problem was – despite all this ‘instant’ stuff I was suddenly wetting the bed. I was spending more time in my room with the computer and games rather than my family and I was tired most of the time... and I had to admit (but only to myself) that I was having trouble staying awake in lessons.  

I’d overheard mum and dad wondering if my use of the computer might be the cause of my wetting and wondering whether to remove it.  I didn’t see how that could be the case otherwise anyone who had a computer would be waking up soaked. Now they have taken it away but I still wear a nappy at night so I’m not sure if that was the reason. I think the reason now is - after the accident at school I ached when I went for a pee during the day as a sort of warning (I’d had a couple of near misses) but at night it just flooded out.

However, that didn’t explain why I’d been wetting at night before the accident at school. I had no idea, the doctor had no idea and although my parents thought it was down to the computer - really had no idea.

Anyway, mum had put me in a nappy and my fab plastic pants this morning because toilets were few and far between in the countryside and even I didn’t feel confident enough to know when I might need to go. Of course, I should still be able, with enough notice, get my shorts down and a hand up to release my willy to pee normally but this was asking a lot. So, I could see it was a sensible precaution and to be honest, my groin did still ache and I was worried about losing it on the hike.

The decision to wear all the SpongeBob stuff had been on the spur of the moment. Perhaps for the first time in ages I wasn’t thinking about what anyone else thought. Despite myself I loved everything about these clothes; the way they looked, the way they made me feel, the fact that my sister and I had something in common... well... it was just so unlike me yet I quite liked the silliness of it all.

Meanwhile, dad had told me to let him know if I needed a change but thought that would be the last thing I’d want out in the open. However, I did feel like a little kid again – rushing here and there, shouting to dad to come and look at something I’d found or a view I thought was brilliant. He was as enthusiastic as I was, snapping away with his camera at every turn. I’m sure we’d get some terrific new images for our wall at home. He also took quite a few of me climbing up some rocky formation or posing next to a babbling brook. The walk in general was as terrific as remembered and thankfully we’d caught it before too many visitors made it too busy to enjoy.

There was absolutely no doubt about it SpongeBob made me feel different. I don’t know how or why, but all this clobber had sort of infected me with the same joyful madness that affected him. I was that young kid from the family photo – when it was all about fun and adventure and being with my family meant everything.


Standing at the top of a high rocky outcrop, staring out over the vast countryside laid out below I was feeling on top of the world. Next to me dad was pointing out some of the distant landmarks whilst other trekkers took in the view of me and smiled benignly at my colourful yellow ensemble. I can honestly say my attire was unique amongst the hordes of other hikers and got quite a few (maybe) contemptuous shrugs from the more serious walkers. He hugged me close, patted my padded bottom and whispered if I’m okay. I’ve never felt better but I knew he’s really asking if I’m wet... I am but pretend I’m not.  

I don’t want anything to spoil this moment; dad and me together in such a wonderful landscape. It’s just too fantastic and the last thing I want is to be having my disposable changed. However, I could feel it was a lot more bloated and I’d need to adjust my walk a little to accommodate it all. I had a waddle, which made me feel like a toddler but I wasn’t going to let anything ruin this wonderful trip.

We found a spot slightly away from the main path but with a fantastic view and ate our sandwiches. The heat of the day, the blue sky, the fact that nature was showing off in such an incredible way just made everything perfect. Several times I sighed at the magnificence and that it was like I was back as a kid discovering all these sights for the first time.

After we’d finished eating and had a short rest we knew we’d only completed half our hike. I was keen to explore more and dad patted my expanded disposable.

“Are you sure you don’t want a change... you’ll feel better and it will only take a second?”

I really did want a change because I’d peed again whilst we ate and, as we were fairly well shaded I nodded.

“OK,” he said, “pull down your shorts and let’s get you more comfortable.”

He rummaged in my little backpack and found a fresh disposable and a couple of soaker pads, plus some wipes and powder.

“Your mum made sure you’re well sorted.” Dad smiled in admiration.

I stood there in a very wet nappy and let dad pull down my plastic pants and rip the soggy mass aside.

Just then two young kids came shuffling around the bushes and their excitement suddenly vanished as they saw what was happening.

To begin with they looked as stunned as I was but then just watched as dad cleaned me up and slipped me effortlessly back into fresh padding.

To begin with I thought it strange that they’d just stood there but as they kept nudging one and other and saying “SpongeBob SquareNappy” and giggling I joined in their unrestrained enjoyment of the situation.

After dad pulled up my plastic pants and made sure everything was contained within them and I’d pulled up my shorts I suddenly realised that I hadn’t minded what could (and perhaps) should have been a very embarrassing situation. It was like I wasn’t in the least bit bothered and it simply didn’t matter.

Once dad saw both the kids and me giggling he also beamed and shrugged also thinking if it didn’t bother me then that was good.

So with no more inhibitions he tousled my hair, patted the fresh padding and we set off on the return leg or our journey.

There were other kids out walking and I got quite a few strange looks from most of the older ones, the younger kids had bigger smiles as I passed. I heard one or two asking their parents if they could have some shorts like mine. I was made up.


Back home and mum and Gabby were already there. Gabby was full of cake and pop and looked quite pretty in her party dress. She’d set up a few of her toys and dolls, two of which were plastic figures of SpongeBob and Patrick I’d not seen before.

“Where did these come from?” I said admiring them and feeling oddly jealous.

“They were prizes... in a game we played and I... erm... swapped them... so we could play with them...”   

I noticed she seemed excited at the prospect but also there was a little query to her voice.

I know it was stupid but I couldn’t get over just how thoughtful my little sister had been and immediately squiggled down next to her to see what we could come up with.

It didn’t take us long to re-enact a bit of the last SpongeBob show we’d seen but added our own take on it. We did the voices where we could and added different voices (set in an underwater world) for her dolls and toys that joined us.

We were so engrossed time just shot by.

“Well you two look like you’re having fun.” Mum stood at the kitchen door watching us play. “Can I get you anything? Ermmm Josh... I think you need changing.”

“No, it’s fine, I’m OK... I’m not... ohhh...”

“C’mon, you’re wet so let’s get you into something a little drier shall we?”

“SpongeBob WetNappy,” Gabby giggled remembering what I’d told her about the boys who watched me being changed that afternoon but she’d changed it slightly... WetNappy. I thought it was a good joke and giggled in appreciation, then followed mum up to my room.


I have no idea why wetting my nappy had been so easy. I mean, I hadn’t even known I was doing it and yet, here I was with soaked material mum was keen to replace.

“There’s been a change in you recently,” mum smiled as she undid the sodden mass, “more playful, more fun and a nice person to have around.”

I knew she was referring negatively to how much time I spent on my computer games and how involved I got to the detriment to everything else. It’s true, if I wasn’t doing too well on the levels I got quite grumpy. Many is the time I couldn’t get to sleep going over in my mind the wrong moves I’d made and how I’d fix it next time. Then, as I tried to sleep my head would be full of murder, mayhem, explosions and horror. No wonder I was wetting the bed I was scaring myself half to death.

She indicated for me to lift up so she could wriggle everything down. I grimaced back but said nothing.

“In fact, you even seem to enjoy being changed...”

I blushed and wriggled a little uncomfortably but I think mum knew she was onto something. Since the computer had been taken away, I no longer dreamed of all the terrifying images I’d normally have seen during a game. It had been replaced by a pleasant calm.

“Well, I hate to admit it but it is nice having this special time together.” I offered.

She looked like she wasn’t expecting that but eventually smiled and agreed she enjoyed it too.

“Who would have thought a damp nappy would have brought us closer?” She gave me that knowing look. “It’s taken me back to when you were just a little bundle of energy. We couldn’t get you to stop for a moment... always running here, there and everywhere. Even getting you to stop for a nappy change was a challenge... you were so full of life and exploration...”

“I can wriggle around a bit if it would help.” I joked.

She laughed. “When you were a toddler, you’d charge around the house in a droopy nappy, or just let it fall off and run around naked... we just couldn’t rein you in.”

As I lay there still waiting to be wrapped up I pretended to make a break for it... as if I was a toddler again.

“STAY.” She gently tapped my thigh. “I’ll be done in a minute so you can explore some more.”

It was a silly exchange but once everything was in place I kissed mum on the cheek in thanks and it’s true... a fresh clean nappy does feel good.


I know... I know, I know, I knooowwww. Sickening. Am I a thirteen year-old boy or a dumb little baby? The thing is, at the moment I’m not feeling I’m either of those two but they are part of me. I think.

I mean, I know that if any of my friends saw me continually cavorting around in SpongeBob stuff there’d be ructions. If they found out that I didn’t mind a nappy, well, my life wouldn’t be worth living. I know all that but it doesn’t seem to matter.

Yes, maybe I am dressed like a two year-old with a SpongeBob fetish but what’s the difference between that and those dweebs who get frocked up to go to ComiCon or Fandom conventions? Or go around dressed like characters from Call of Duty or from the 50s... or... well you get my drift.  They go around quoting lines from their shows - ‘Set Phasers on Stun’ and acting out the latest or most memorable scenes. Aren’t I just doing the same with SpongeBob finding his childlike enthusiasm for life? Actually, I can see the cracks in that argument.

However, these last few days, without a computer, surrounded by family and steeped in the attire of a looney person who has buck teeth and a loving attachment to a starfish... I have not felt this happy since, well, since I was a kid... and it’s been quite therapeutic.

As I run around I can feel the thick padding under my slinky SpongeBob plastic pants and I’m grateful to that leak-proof and sturdy addition to my wardrobe when I wet.

Well, perhaps not the nappy wetting side of it, I mean, c’mon, but in my defence, I mainly don’t have any control over that. I’m sure the ache and occasional twinge from the injury down there will pass, as will my nocturnal emissions but for the moment I need my nappy.

Eeeek, I need my nappy. Who would have thought I'd ever admit to that?

The family don’t seem to worry about it either. In fact, both mum and dad have commented on how much nicer I am to have around, playing with my sister and generally getting involved. Of course I’m hoping that there will be no permanent injury to my bladder, and that all this is just temporary.

When mum bought all this stuff I didn’t think for one second I’d not only enjoy wearing it but that it would have such an effect on me mentally? When I wake up, even though I’m usually incredibly wet, I can’t wait to start the day. Of course I don’t wear my cartoon clothes all the time but often there is some aspect of his grinning image that is pressed up against some part of me... and I like knowing that.

Somewhere, somehow and I’m not sure if this was hidden deep or lying waiting at the surface... but my friendly cartoon character has spun some kind of jolly, happy, freeing feeling that not only do I identify with but positively embrace.

So, whether my injury heals soon or not, for the foreseeable future SpongeBob SquareNappy is in for the long haul.

I look across at my sister who has a huge smile on her face.

“SpongeBob SquareNappy... Wet Nappy... Yeahhh.


To: reply@Parentsonparenting.co.uk

From: J.Laxley

May I, through this wonderful site, express my thanks for the advice given?

Two pieces I’d been given for my thirteen year-old son who recently started wetting the bed proved invaluable.

I removed what was the possible cause his computer games but, as advised, replaced it with a distraction that I had no idea would work. It did.

The gloomy boy who used to sit at the breakfast table is now an eager young man keen to start a new day. He’s involved with the family more and, although still has occasional; problems with nocturnal enuresis, his mental attitude has dramatically improved.

He’s a pleasure to be around and your advice has brought the family closer than we’ve been for some time.

I hope other’s find solutions to whatever family matter befalls them.

 So, thanks to you all for caring and your splendid counsel.


Janice Laxley



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