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Understanding

I wriggled under the warm and comforting duvet. I knew it was time to get up but was so content I hoped a few more minutes would be granted before mum came in and insisted, I rise and get ready for school. I yawned and stretched my five feet, eight-inch frame then cuddled myself more deeply in the folds of my comfy duvet hoping against hope that she’d just forget this morning I had an exam in, I looked over at the bedside clock, an hour and twenty-two minutes. Plenty of time but not if I fell back to sleep.

Meanwhile, Bruce, our cross-terrier dog, who more often than not sleeps in my room, was up and wagging his tail telling me he wanted to be let out to relieve himself.

“John, c’mon, get up... you need to be up and, on the ball.” Mum shouted from the other side of my bedroom door having knocked heavily so there was no chance of pretending I’d not got the call.

The dog gave a little growl but I’m not sure if it was against mum making a noise or in agreement to get up and take him out.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” I mumbled reluctant to move but knowing I had little choice. I threw back the duvet and felt an immediate chill as the cool air from the slightly open window attacked my lovely warm body. I shivered slightly before making sure everything was in order. I mean, I’m no Greek God but my body is nice and firm (in places) and although not very muscular and certainly not a gym bunny, I feel I’m getting by.

Bruce took the opportunity to jump onto the bed, lick my face and get quite excited that I was now awake and able to give him a rub. I gave him a thorough morning “Who’s a good boy then” rub. Then he went and stood by the door, looking hopefully back at me really wanting that morning pee.

With my feet on the thick carpet, I stretched once more then stood up. Bruce came over again so gave him another cursory stroke, which had him wagging his tail with enthusiasm. Meanwhile, I did another shake to make sure all my limbs were working and moving and knew that was about as much exercise they’d be getting. I rubbed the fading goose pimples and checked my all but naked body. All seemed in order and correct. Alas, another wet nappy was hanging heavy behind my recently acquired plastic pants. So, heaving a sigh of inevitability, made my way to the bathroom.

“Mum,” I shouted as Bruce ran past and down the stairs to get to the front door, “can you let Bruce out I think he’s bursting.”

It was maybe strange that the dog could hold itself until it was outside for a pee, yet I couldn’t hold it during the night. I wonder if the dog had any thoughts on that little nugget.

#

‘Nappies and plastic pants?’

Okay, so that bit might have caught your eye... that a schoolboy (sixteen if you don’t mind) is wearing a nappy and the aforementioned plastic pants to bed?

(I’m still a schoolboy because I’m a boy and still at school. Over the years we’ve all tried to change the terms of reference; sixth former, pupil, undergrad, student... well, you get the idea but the one that has stuck (and there’s no shaking this), if a boy is still at school, then the majority of people will still refer to him as just that – a schoolboy).

Glad that’s off my chest. Now, where were we?

Ah yes - nappies and plastic pants - I’m not keen on them but, with recent developments, it has seemed prudent to both mum and me, sorry, mother and I, that such protection was valid until I get rid of this drippy penis I seem to have acquired.

It started a few weeks ago with just damp underpants that I couldn’t explain. I had no idea I was dribbling into them but that dribble became a flow when I went to sleep. Several mornings of distressingly wet jammies and sheets meant action had to be taken.

To be honest, I was very embarrassed about bringing it up with my parents. I mean sixteen and having that kind of wayward willy was pretty awkward to explain but, as mum had fitted mattress protectors to all our beds, damage was kept to a minimum. Well, that’s what I thought until she came up with a better minimum and that was that I should wear protection until whatever ails me clears up. Then, of course, it would be just me that was wet, so laundry and disruption was all kept to that minimum she was so keen on.

Mini mum... now that’s funny if you knew how tall she is... ha!

The past few weeks have been really hectic due to exams, which everyone emphasized were extremely important, so there was a lot of pressure. Honestly, the entire year has felt stressful because we knew these last weeks would require us to put everything we’d learned into practice. Now that I’ve finished some of the papers, I think the first few subjects went well, although beforehand I was incredibly nervous. I only have a couple left, and with summer break just around the corner, I’m looking forward to forgetting about school for a bit—and I really hope my anxiety-related wetting stops as well.

I’m quite a practical chap and understand that wearing some form of protection at night would just be until this, whatever it was, passed. No one but the family would know and it did seem a sensible thing to do, so although I had a few misgivings, agreed. I was surprised at just how quickly mum had got the fabric nappies organised. So wasn’t quite expecting, on arriving home, to find my bed with one laid out, barrier cream, talcum powder and everything prepared for when I retired later that night.

Now, mum (Susan) is the driving force in the family. Dad works in his family business, which he’s turned around since taking over its management, but at home, he always agrees with any and all mum’s decisions. Not because it’s easier but because she is without doubt, always right. We’re a tight threesome, foursome if you count Bruce (and who wouldn’t?) and even though I should be a stroppy teenager, so far that has passed me by, though I like to feel I am an independent spirit.

However, mum had said that before I put the nappy on, she wanted to check I wasn’t getting a rash. Actually, I was because I’d spent far too much time at school scratching my bollocks. Nonetheless, I lied and said I was fine whilst grimacing at the term ‘nappy’, I would have preferred her to call it, erm, adult protection.

However, my little lie didn’t play well when she saw me surreptitiously scratting away at my privates during dinner so insisted that she check properly. The fact I was sixteen meant nothing to her she simply played the ‘mum card’ “You’ve nothing I haven’t seen before” and “I’m your mother and what I say goes” difficult to argue against that sort of reasoning.

There wasn’t a chance in hell of me going against mum’s directive. I wasn’t like that... and she’d never put up with it... so, best do as I’m told when I’m told.

Now before you start about being all ‘In yer face mum’ or ‘I’d never put up with such a decision’ ‘Where’s the teenage rebellion?’ let me tell you about me – I’M NOT LIKE THAT.

#

John’s mother and father, Susan and David, had met at university. One lunch time he’d wandered into the library and noticed that the debating forum was in full swing. He’d watched entranced as a small but sprightly young woman, in tight fitting jeans and sloppy angora jumper all but destroyed the arguments of the opposing team. The following week, he once again ‘stumbled’ on the debating team and once again was impressed by this clever fellow student who argued strongly for the return to the full power of the Monarchy. On this occasion she was dressed in similar jeans but a purple t-shirt that had YES written on the front and NO written on the back. No ambiguity there he thought but there was no getting away from the fact that his heart and mind were besotted by this incredible young presence at her challenging best.

From then on, he saw her around campus and eventually, after weeks of procrastination picked up the courage to speak. He would never have the courage to debate, not being one for any form of confrontation, but loved the spirit of this small woman (he being over six feet tall), and the energy she brought with her.

She loved his shy, almost boyish interest and enjoyed being in his company but kept him at arms-length until they both graduated. To celebrate he wanted them to go on holiday together but she was reluctant to give herself to this keen but undynamic man. However, what she did see in him was a kind, sweet, generous, understanding young man unlike most of his follow graduates. He had qualities she quite admired but thought a heavy relationship would be detrimental to her career.

So, they remained friends as she pursued her path to work in Government and he slipped happily into the family printing firm. In a very short time Susan had become disillusioned with ‘Big Government’ and decided to look elsewhere. However, circumstances changed and after a particularly romantic vacation in Sardinia, which both felt they needed, friendship changed to something more and after the first consummation of their relationship, David proposed and she accepted. As it was... perhaps just as well because on that first proper sexual encounter (which was far more exciting and prolonged than Susan ever thought possible) the seeds of a baby were... sown.

Nine months later, and to Mr and Mrs Benedict’s excitement, young John Francis Benedict took his first breath. Susan discovered just what a wonderful and devoted husband David was; diligent in his work and social life and a loving father... and an absolute bull in bed.

However, for biological reasons, John had been the only result of their hectic sex-life and both parents doted on him. Nonetheless, he wasn’t a spoiled boy, he wasn’t overly indulged and they brought him up to know right from wrong. He wasn’t necessarily a pushover but was taught that winning at all costs was not the goal in everything. Sometimes it was best to just hold back and see what develops.

However, what had developed were wet pants and a wet bed so, they also brought him up to understand that what parents say goes. He’d learned fairly early on that arguing with a ‘professional’ debater (his mum) was a useless tactic.

#

Standing naked as mum inspected my ‘equipment’ was quite awkward, she looked professional, whilst I squirmed under her scrutiny.

“Well love, you are quite flaky in places, which can’t be very pleasant for you so, this bush will have to go whilst you wear a nappy, otherwise it’s just a breeding ground for all sorts.” She wasn’t specific but I was rather proud of my bush - thick and wiry - so didn’t really want to lose it. It is amazing at what you become proud of in the changing rooms after games or gym.

“But mum, I don’t want to be the only lad in gym without pubes they’ll all have a go...”

“Just tell them that your girlfriend prefers to see you that way...”

“But I don’t have a girlfriend except Jenny and she’s just a friend and...”

“Use your imagination son, if they think you have a girlfriend who prefers to see you shaved,” she emphasised the word. “What else does she like (?) because it means she’s seen you naked. The other boys will be sick with jealousy.”

I was quite astounded at mum’s easy knowledge of how teenage boys think, so, the thought of losing my pubes didn’t seem so bad. Then of course, there’d only be the padding to find an excuse for. Perhaps I can say she prefers to see me in them than my CKs... this pretend girlfriend?

Well, that might be one way of explaining it but maybe I’ll just not tell anyone and hope I can negotiate only wearing a nappy, erm, adult protection, at night and find something less obvious to capture my constantly leaking cock.

Yes, I know I should see a doctor, and an appointment has been made, but with non-emergencies in the NHS there’s almost a month to wait to get one so hopefully it will be over long before then. Meanwhile, I’ll ask at the pharmacy to come up with something. Well, I won’t because that would be embarrassing but I’m sure mum will have no such qualms.

#

Mum was just as quick with the shaving business. Insisting that I got on with removing my pubic bush as soon as possible, which I assumed was so I didn’t overthink its removal; I was still pretty keen on keeping it. However, I’d started occasionally shaving my face, though that was only like once every two weeks, but my hairy pubes had been with me for a couple years and that’s why I didn’t want to lose them.  Mum had everything I’d need prepared just as I was about to take a shower.

“Don’t procrastinate you need to clean that area,” she pointed to my crotch. “Now then love, you need to be careful but thorough.”

I didn’t need being told that... careful, hell, I didn’t want to put a sharp object anywhere near my cock and balls. I sighed as I was almost convinced, she was going to join me in the shower and make sure I did it properly.

“Are you sure you don’t need my help?”

(See what I mean?)

“No mum,” I said more than a little annoyed. This daily bed-wetting lark was getting too much but, as I’d woken up to another pair of damp undies (adult protection), it was difficult to play the put upon son AND, it was getting pretty itchy ‘down there’.

“Just be thorough and, John, I don’t like that attitude if you don’t mind.... all this is for your benefit, no one else gains anything from it, so... think on.”

I sighed, “Yes mum, sorry mum.”

“Look, make sure you’re thoroughly wet but I suggest you clip the hair down as short as possible before you start otherwise...”

“Yes, yes, yes...” I needed peace and a steady hand but thankfully she’d left a pair of scissors out that I hoped would do the job as directed.

“Don’t be afraid to call me if you need any help.”

“Yes mum, can you please go so I can get on with it?”

“Alright but be careful...” she sounded really concerned - as if she didn’t trust me to do the job properly.

I harrumphed again but she had left me with scissors, shaving foam, a Gillette Slalom II razor and a flannel.

From behind the door I heard her repeat the words “Be careful love” but that only set my nerves on edge. Perhaps that might explain why the hand gripping the scissors was shaking as I made the first snip.

#

Little by little I carefully pruned and threw the wiry hair into the toilet bowl to get flushed away. On me it seemed loads but floating in the water my pride and joy didn’t look that impressive. I foamed up what was left around my groin and realised that I couldn’t actually see the skin to be sure I was doing it correctly. My breathing had become erratic as I held the razor when taking that first stroke into the unknown. I started just below my naval and slowly (and carefully) manoeuvred bit by bit down that little trail to the main event around my shaft, which was dangling afraid to get too perky. I grabbed my soapy balls and tugged them tightly and ran the blade along the soft skin and hoped I wasn’t digging in too deep. I was pleased to see the pale skin underneath and no bloody mess, which was a relief.

There were moments when I just didn’t inhale or exhale at all as I carefully slid the razor between my legs and shaved a little of that bit between cock and bum. I was surprised at how much hair was gathered there (and around my bumhole) but eventually I was done and the entire area had escaped any cuts and looked pretty pristine. It seemed strange inspecting myself that closely and looking at it all from a weird close-up angle - I had no idea my bumhole looked like that - the end of a fastened balloon.

I’d never taken such care over anything in my life and although the area was now nude and very pale compared with the rest of my skin, apart from a couple of red blotches which I presumed were from so much scratching, I thought I’d done a pretty good job.

Mum had told me, once I’d showered and cleaned the area up not to forget to apply an aftershave balm. Unfortunately, I splashed on some aftershave cologne by mistake, which had me hopping around and squealing like a madman. I washed that off as quickly as I could but felt the burn for quite some time after, even with a coating of the proper soothing balm mum had left out for me I could still feel that blunder.

I didn’t tell her about that mishap; I wasn’t sure whether she’d be sympathetic or burst into hysterics. I kept that to myself.

However, I stood in front of the mirror and examined the new nude state of my genitals and thought although they normally hid behind that bush, now, on their own, they drooped and to me at least, looked a little larger than usual, hmmm? The other thing was that as I fondled the smoothness there were certain sensations that I could appreciate and felt it was time to explore them. Perhaps shaven dangly bits would have some pleasant advantages?

At sixteen I have the same physical drives that any lad my age has, so that means, I have a very good friend that I like to play with regularly. I don’t mean to be rude but it would be silly to try and pretend otherwise and I think this ‘nightly need’ has spurred mum to come up with nappies as a solution. I mean, I know I need one for wetting but I think she sees it as a way to prevent any other bedding (pyjamas, undies, socks and the like) from being a ‘recipient’. Yes, I think that’s the term.

No, we’ve never spoken about it, nor have we acknowledged that a boy my age has these urges it’s just sort of accepted. But I can tell that mum is pretty happy - if that isn’t the completely wrong term - that my nocturnal activity now has another form of, erm, depository.

#

Anyway, mum had a word with the pharmacist and although there were warning devises and plenty of complementary or alternative treatments like - medicinal plants, chiropractic treatment, homeopathy, hypnosis and acupuncture, she was of the opinion that a good quality fabric nappy was, as the timeline of the problem was unknown, the best ‘alternative’ way to go. It was re-usable, so that was good for the planet, and avoided landfill sites. Apparently, in their discussion, and I only found this out later, they also thought how much more adorable a teen must look when he (or she) has to wear a thick nappy. Apparently, for mum that was the clincher and she bought a few large fabric nappies to be sure she had me covered for all eventualities. She said that she hoped I didn’t mind her turning me into a cute nappied eco-warrior... and then giggled.

Now, bear with me, I don’t know about you but seeing mum giggle was an amazing sight. Despite the news of nappies, she’d just delivered, all that was forgotten when she laughed the way she did. I mean, of course, mum laughs a lot but seeing and hearing that girlishly coy giggle, well that was something else and seemed to take a good ten years off straight away. The thought of being put into nappies should have held terrors for me (or at least some resentment) but that eco-warrior giggle put things into perspective.

Mum appeared to be genuinely making the best of my situation, embracing the inevitability of my ‘drippy willy’ without any hint of malice or vindictiveness. Rather than letting embarrassment or frustration take hold, she seemed to find humour in the predicament, which brought a certain warmth to the entire experience. Not wanting to dampen her spirits, I decided it was best to follow her lead. By adopting Mum’s attitude and treating the issue as something amusing and not dwelling on the negatives, I found it easier to accept and even find some lightness in what might otherwise have been an awkward problem.

#

Anyway, that first night in a nappy was an odd affair. To say I was reluctant would be an understatement but as I’d agreed I couldn’t back out. First mum said she’d do it, and then dad joined in and said he should do it... I didn’t particularly want either to do it. Nonetheless, I tried to pin myself in and it was a disaster; it just kept falling down I couldn’t get the tension right. So, in the end, and after a great deal of joking and cajoling, mum did it for me.

It was chance for mum to inspect what I’d done. NO, I didn’t want her to but she insisted and no matter how embarrassing it was for me... she was going to check... and check she did. My cock, balls and bumhole all got a very close inspection and, after a few finishing little scrapes with the razor at any wayward hair, she slapped on some extra cream and rubbed it everywhere around that area. She was very thorough, as you might expect, but a finger and warm hands slipping around in certain places you really don’t want it to be your mum doing it.

Meanwhile, as mum reassembled the fabric into a nappy shape, dad stood at the door grinning and revelling in my embarrassment. After a liberal sprinkling of talc it was all fitted (pins and all), and mum had made a big deal about kissing me goodnight. Dad came over, said very seriously that I was doing the right thing and shouldn’t be ashamed or embarrassed by wearing a nappy. I was pleased he was taking it seriously and not out to make a joke. Nonetheless, then he added “However, you do look adorable.” There was never any malice in what dad said but that cheeky smile as he exited made both mum and me chuckle.

Dad’s a lovely man and me and mum (sorry, mother and I) are very lucky to have him. He works full time in the printing firm and has had to adapt new ideas as the printing business in general is on a downward spiral in many ways. However, he invested in new equipment and set up an ‘independent’ publisher, so people could self-publish, design their own cards, posters, invitations etc as well as exploiting the demand for A.I. produced material. The business that was failing now produces a nice, though not substantial, profit thanks to dad’s forward thinking.

Meanwhile, I turned on my side and tried to relax with this huge piece of material now joining me in my sleeping arrangements and hoped I’d be able to drop off. Bruce was already curled up at the foot of the bed, not on it because mum said he shouldn’t be allowed under the covers. Having said that, of course he joined me when he felt like it not when I said it was okay. Bruce had a mind of his own and wasn’t going to let me dictate where he should sleep. In the morning my new ‘protection’ was soaked but I had slept like a baby.

No, I don’t mean I woke up every couple of hours crying to be fed so you can get that image out of your head straight away.  

I slept soundly and innocently, and with Bruce curled up beside me as the ideal bed companion, I easily forgot about the uncomfortable, damp weight covering my groin.

#

Anyway, the thick padding hadn’t been leak-proof enough for such a deluge so mum returned to the pharmacy where once again she chatted with the lady behind the counter who suggested a range of thick vinyl pants. Apparently, as you will see, she liked chatting to mum about my problems, who said it was ‘refreshing to find a parent who was so open and honest about such a thing’. Anyway, they got on well and I think mum now has a new friend she’ll be hanging around with.

So, I now have to sleep not only in a nap… erm... adult protection... but with that material protected by a vinyl covering, which I have to say I hated the thought of to begin with (too babyish). In fact, I said “No” straight away when she produced the first slinky pair; they were transparent and crinkled quite loudly before I put them on. Anyway, mum was insistent so was left with no option, but, surprise-surprise, once they were on and I was in bed, they felt quite nice to wriggle around in. I didn’t know if this was the ‘normal’ reaction but it was really quite a weird though satisfying sensation.

Okay, so between the pharmacist and mum they’d got me back into wearing plastic pants over nappies… erm… I mean adult protection (Oh god this is getting silly I might as well stick to calling them nappies as I’m calling them that anyway) and although I felt as guilty as hell, as I say I was enjoying the sensation more than I let on. Anyway, it’s been a few days now and I understand this is all for my own good. Of course, mum had explained the ‘laundry rules’ whereby wetting anything other than the nappy was a no-no and a dry bed was the ultimate aim. I’d also been instructed in how to put it on properly and efficiently so I was the master of my own nighttime arrangements.

Mum and I had different ‘ultimate aims’ but hers were instant, practical and workable - whereas mine were merely hopeful. Hoping my problem would soon pass.

This brings me to the present moment. Having just taken a shower, my mind occupied with numbers, formulas, angles, and algebra because I have a mathematics paper in approximately an hour. Therefore, I must get a move on if I’m not to be late.

#

When I got back to my room mum had left out a soak pad next to my y-fronts and a pair of sleek soft white vinyl pants.

As we’d talked about it earlier, she knew my reluctance to wear a nappy to school so we’d come up with this alternative. With the addition of the plastic pants as security she was convinced that a thick pad resting in my white briefs would be sufficient to soak up any dribbles that might occur... and give me time to get to the ‘little boys room’ (mum’s words) where I could change, if and when it happened.

“Slip the pad in your undies love and don’t forget to wear the plastic pants over the top... it should keep everything to the minimum embarrassment should you pee...” There she goes again mini mum – ha-ha.

I could have guessed that but I suppose it’s just as well she was on the ball because I would have said “I know” in a belittling voice because I’m a little stressed. In this house mum knows everything. Whatever question I, or come to think of it dad has, she knows the answer.

 Dad: “Where’s my blue shirt?”  

“Hung up in the airing cupboard.”

Dad: “Have you seen my keys?”

“In the kitchen next to the biscuit jar.”

Dad: “Have we paid the electric bill?”

“Yes, that’s just to let you know how much... it’s not a request for payment.”

“Oh, Okay.”

Me: “Mum do you know what x is if y over z equals 17?”

“Erm, ask your father.”

So, perhaps she doesn’t know everything.

Anyway, I did as suggested and once I’d put my grey school trousers on it felt a bit tight but otherwise I didn’t think it looked too bad. I was sure no one else would notice especially if I wore my jacket most of the time. However, our classrooms can get quite warm so I might have to be a little more cautious around others. Still, the morning is going to be spent in exams so few will have time to be bothered about what I’m wearing, if they even notice.

Of course, after the exam, which I think went okay, my best mate Terry sidled up and patted my bum. Terry is my age and although he’s my bestie we are completely different, he’s very sporty, rugged and about three inches taller than me. He has a group of mates that he’s always with (and of which I am just an occasional member) and seems to attract the girls like he was some kind of pop star. I’m not jealous, just, well, glad he’s my mate.

“You’ve got some explaining to do mate...” and left it at that as he disappeared with a group of other lads down the hall and out into the yard to get some air.

I didn’t get a chance to say anything but was glad he was giving me time to come up with an excuse. I don’t know how he could tell but somehow, he could. Should I run with the girlfriend excuse or should I tell him the truth? He knew I didn’t have a girlfriend so that wouldn’t wash, but should I be truthful with my best mate... did he need to know?

#

Actually, there was a load more going on in my head and in my pants. I’d just been sitting in a Maths exam and although hoped I’d done quite well; I had a bit of a distraction. As I arrived a little later than I normally would have I hadn’t followed the first rule of ‘exam taking’ and that is – make sure you don’t need to use the toilet - empty bladder and bowel BEFORE entering the room and not like I’d done, during. Not the bowel part, that was something I didn’t need but my bladder was being very insistent so, about halfway through and, knowing I had a slight advantage over anyone else with my soaker pad lying discreetly in my underpants, gently (although not easily) let the build-up flow.

It was a peculiar, warming experience. I suppose it was the situation and circumstances that made it feel different but I can’t deny that I felt a little bit of daring and pleasure in being able to do what I did.

Although later, when the questions on the page seemed to be even harder, sitting in a soggy pad for the rest of the exam period became quite uncomfortable. Thankfully, mum’s special vinyl pants kept everything tidy and prevented any leakage (I checked before I left my seat in the exam room) for which I was grateful.

So, when Terry patted me on what I assumed was my expanded bum and said those words, I knew my secret was over but I’d have to trust him to keep it to himself.

#

Before I joined him and the rest of our mates, I slipped along to the one handicapped toilet to change. The soaked padding wouldn’t have lasted much longer and I needed to get the twisted wet thing from around my genitals. Mum had put a couple more soaker pads in my backpack as well as a disposable (she said for emergencies). So, once I had my pants down and the soggy material in my hand it was decision time – pad or disposable?

Mum didn’t like me using disposables because of the ‘eco’ aspect to them but knew, in an emergency, it might well be needed. However, the pad, once wet, had ridden up and twisted in my briefs to become uncomfortable. Although that was probably more to do with my wriggling about as I tried to solve the various problems and equations. Anyway, I had ‘normal school’ in the afternoon so thought a disposable would fit better and not ride up. Besides, my undies were already soaked so didn’t want to sit around in them even with a fresh pad in place. The disposable was very comfortable in comparison.

#

Okay, with Terry saying what he said I assumed he knew about my padding. I’d not told anyone about my ‘dribble’ problem and as far as I knew only mum, dad and the pharmacist were in the know. However, Terry is my best mate so I suppose he notices more than others if I’m looking or acting differently, even if I’m not aware of doing so. All this was going through my head when I eventually caught up with him in the break room.

As usual he was surrounded by our friends so had to wait for a moment when it was just the two of us to explain what was happening to me.

“How did you know?” I asked cautiously.

He looked coy “Know what?”

“Well, you know... about me needing padding?” I hoped no one else was near enough to hear as I took a furtive look around.

He stared at me for a moment and then asked what the hell I was talking about.

“You said I needed to explain... so... ummm...” but he was looking a bit vacant and suddenly realised perhaps he was talking about something else. “Oh, never mind I’m thinking of something else...” I tried to look like I was doing just that but couldn’t think of why I’d tell him I needed padding.

“You didn’t join us online last night,” that’s what I was referring to. “Jim, Hills and Graham... we were well into... wait... what do you mean you need padding?”

Oh shit, now he’d grasped something was up I knew he wouldn’t let it go so had to make my mind up pretty quickly as to whether I was going the whole hog and tell him about my little problem.

Yes, despite revising like mad it was deemed necessary for us to take a break and I’d reluctantly made arrangements to join in the team game we’d been playing online. What had become more important - my bollock-shaving regime and one thing led to another so had completely forgotten about killing a few mutants.

I felt a chill run through my body and at the same time I blushed wondering just how much to say. Furthermore, the abrupt rise in anxiety resulted in an unproductive reaction towards my disposable. I discreetly guided him aside, away from the hearing range of the others.

“Erm, when you patted my bum as we left the exam room, I thought you must have noticed I was wearing...” He was looking at me with interest and I was finding it hard to say the exact words. I needed to make it seem that it wasn’t a big thing but of course, a lad of sixteen wetting his knickers* is quite a big thing.

* Briefs, trunks, in fact underpants in general were often referred to as ‘knickers’ by the rest of the lads if they were taking the piss out of someone in gym or games. Because it was a ‘girlie’ term it was a way of having a go though I’d say there was very rarely any maliciousness to the comment.

I was just wishing that he’d break into a smile, say he knew exactly what I was talking about, it was no big deal and we could get on as if nothing had been said. Alas no.

“What, you’re telling me that you’re wearing a nappy?” He looked incredulously at me.

“No, no... erm... well...”

“Bloody hell John,” he looked like I’d just told him I’d killed a man, “why are you telling me this?” He looked around to make sure no one was listening. “A nappy?” he whispered incredulously.

I wasn’t sure if I should continue or not but now, I’d started it seemed a bit redundant to pretend I hadn’t said anything. I can’t say I was encouraged by the recent warm glow down there but it made it more difficult to ignore.

But he continued. “Why would I want to know that?” He looked most uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry, I thought that’s what you were referring to and, as you’re my best mate, thought I’d level with you that’s all. I mean...”

“But now I know I can’t un-know...”

“Well true... that’s how I feel as well.” I shrugged and again whispered that I was sorry and it took a few minutes of silence between us before any conversation started again.

“So, you say you’re not wearing a nappy, or are you?”

“Look, I’ve been wearing a soaker pad in my briefs and plastic pants to stop any leakage because I’m having trouble with my bladder.”

He looked shocked but as was usual with him, he liked information so, as this was personal and about me, he was interested.

“But suspect from that you’re only telling me half the story...” he replied and I nodded.

“Yes because I have to wear a nap... erm... adult protection at night because I pee the bed if I don’t.”

“Christ John, what the hell have you done to your bladder?”

“I don’t know. It started leaking a while back and has just got worse.”

“What’s the doctor said?” Surprisingly he seemed to actually be taking a real interest.

“I’m still waiting to get in and see him... in the meantime mum insists that the easiest precaution... and to keep laundry to a minimum (ha-ha) I have to wear, you know, stuff... at night.” I shrugged as if to say I don’t understand it either but it may not have come over that way.

He nodded as if this was the best advice anyone had ever been given. He then smiled. “You do know that from now on I’ll simply regard you as my baby brother?” He said whilst ruffling my hair.

“Oh, well, thanks for your sympathy and support.” I said a little annoyed in the direction this conversation had veered.

“Now, now,” he said as if talking to a little kid “don’t get your knickers, I mean nappy, in a twist” and tried to hold back a huge laugh I could see building inside him.

I didn’t know what I was expecting from this revelation but assumed Terry would be okay with it but, well, now...

“You know, when you pout like that,” he chuckled, “you remind me of my four-year-old cousin.” I looked at him hoping for something positive, “But there again, he’s out of nappies now so...” and burst into a gale of laughter.

“So glad this amuses you,” I said resentfully.

“Yes, that’s it, that’s the sulk,” he laughed harder and pointed, “just like my little cousin.”

Although it was a put down, I didn’t feel there was any malice in his observation. Unfortunately, the laugh had attracted attention from our other mates and they wanted to know what the joke was.

Terry covered for me. “No joke, just a silly observation John made about Mrs Twistleton as she supervised his Maths exam. She stood next to McAvoy longer than anyone else and ‘accidently’ brushed up against him, so, was wondering if the rumours were true.”

Everyone knew the school (well pupil) gossip that he was shagging the teacher so each knew what I was getting at and burst into laughter along with me and Terry.

The thing was, as I wriggled down in my seat under the obvious amusement of this situation, it was the damp disposable that seemed to wrap itself around my nude cock and balls and offered a feeling of comfort and support.

How weird is that?

# tbc #

Part 2

The following day I woke up and knew something was different; it didn’t take long to realise that I’d crapped myself. This was a huge thing to happen. I mean, it’s bad enough pissing yourself at night but crapping yourself, well, that’s a completely different ball game.

My conversation with Terry had obviously had more of a worrying effect on my mind than anticipated because I’d dreamt of him and the rest of the class taunting me by insisting I fill my nappy. The thing is, in real life, once he knew, Terry was all understanding and thankfully not up for public mocking, which is what I hoped of him. So why I’d had this awful outcome as I slept, I don’t know but, and I hate to admit it, I was scared enough by my school mate’s nightmarish jeers and threats to fill my nappy as the mob demanded.

It was an unsettled night, marked by a distressing nightmare in which I was not my sixteen-year-old self, but instead a frightened young child, surrounded by older boys who mocked and intimidated me. At times, I attempted to present myself as a teenager, yet my attire suggested otherwise, causing disbelief among those around me. The ridicule was persistent and unnerving. Eventually, they encircled me, pulling at my clothing and insisting that I act according to their expectations of a baby. This overwhelming scenario led to a loss of control within the confines of my dream—an experience that, unfortunately, extended beyond the boundaries of sleep.

Mum’s usual bang on the door ‘get up call’ had me worried. This wasn’t something I could hide, although I desperately wanted to, and something too shameful to admit to. However, there was a certain potent smell which I was sure would permeate the house if I didn’t get up and sort myself out. On the other hand, sixteen or not, I really didn’t want to deal with this on my own.

Bruce was quietly curled up at the foot of my bed and didn’t seem alarmed at the musty smell. I didn’t want to blame him for the stench although the thought had crossed my mind.

“Mum” I called and Bruce perked up his ears and came bounding over.

“Yes love, what is it?” Mum’s concerned voice replied.

“Can you come in for a minute please?” My voice drifting to almost zero as I was unsure what reaction would follow.

I suppose, when she walked in, she knew immediately it was me and not the dog. I was standing next to my bed, with a very full droopy nighttime fabric nappy and she’d quickly assessed the smelly situation. Meanwhile, Bruce had his paws pressed against my plastic-coated hip, his tail wagged as I gently stroked his head. No judgement from him at least.  

“Oh dear!” Mum looked from the sagginess back up to my face and although I hated to admit something else, I was on the verge of tears and needed mum to help sort this mess out.

“Down Bruce,” he looked at mum and, as all of us do, did what she said immediately. He slowly padded back to his spot by the door and waited further instructions.

After that she was on the case. “Okay sweetheart, go to the bathroom and wait for me.” She moved across and opened the window wider, a move I thought I should have done but of course, I was feeling pretty sorry for myself and couldn’t grasp how waking up wet had suddenly converted to waking up with a full and disgusting nappy.

The night before, as she’d insisted now for a few nights, saw me wearing one of her thick fabric nappies to sleep in. The substantial vinyl pants that covered it was a pleasant sensation to fall asleep stroking but now I just felt silly not being in control of... Oh god... it was just awful to think, let alone experience, what I was carrying in the seat of all this sodden material.

I could feel the extra weight being held in place by the slick pants and thought I could see mum looking at Bruce as if to say, ‘At least you managed to hold yours for the night’. I may have been reading something into nothing but I was feeling very guilty.

“Sorry mum,” I tried to keep up my sixteen-year-old charade even though at that moment I felt like a little kid, “I had a nightmare and got scared... I s’pose?” was all I could offer as an excuse.

“It’s alright love, don’t worry, these things happen so don’t fret. We’ll soon have everything sorted.” She patted my shoulder with sympathy as I made my weary way to the bathroom.  

She checked the bed to make sure none of the sheets needed attention, which didn’t (that part of the laundry rule had been observed) then followed and closed the door behind us.

“I know you’re probably feeling embarrassed but don’t be, accidents happen and we can only be glad that you’ve been thoughtful enough to wear a nappy at these demanding times.” I assumed she was referring to the fact that I’d been quite anxious about my exams.

I know she was trying to make me feel better but it wasn’t working, I still felt like a stupid toddler unable to get to the toilet in time. Sixteen or not, I was battling to keep back the tears, this to me seemed an all-time low and one I’d find difficult to bounce back from. I’d always have the knowledge that a lad my age had shit in his nappy (HIS NAPPY!) and that lad was me. I was full of shame, misery and apologies.

She pulled down my plastic pants and the full horror of the messy material was revealed.

As I stepped out of them, she said, “Thank God for these,” and threw the plastic pants into the sink. “Okay love, step into the shower and I’ll unpin you... just don’t look if you’re feeling a bit queasy.”

I could feel myself about to gag at the thought, never mind the sight, of my foul excretions.

It flopped heavily onto the shower tray.

Mum reached in and instantly removed it and told me to get a thorough shower “... and pay attention to your bum sweetie.” She didn’t need to say anything else as I got the drift.

I’m a lad of sixteen and I’d shit myself. Thankfully the padding contained everything but that didn’t stop me feeling like I’d let everyone down. Mum had seen my shitty bum, hell, she must have thought those days were well behind her. Well, my behind was going to need extra attention and I needed to stop being queasy and get to it.

#

I can’t tell you how upsetting it was to see the brown water trickle down the plughole. I kept up a sudsy application to that area until I was sure... well... I wouldn’t say it was good enough to eat off but you get the idea.

As I was drying myself on the landing, I could hear mum and dad talking downstairs. I listened in and caught bits of their conversation. From what I could gather dad must have asked if this was a new problem but mum was arguing not to make a ‘big thing’ about it.

“Look love,” she spoke quietly to dad, “just don’t make it an issue. He’s had an accident and I’m sure the poor lad is beside himself with embarrassment so doesn’t need us making it worse.” In my mind’s eye I saw dad nodding in agreement even if a little doubtful. “What we need to remember is that we’ve got a great kid who has the bravery to wear a nappy because he needs to... not many lads his age would be that self-aware AND,” she emphasised, “I’m proud that he’s bright enough to know that a nappy and plastic pants have saved him from the embarrassment of making a huge mess.” She paused and then continued “Just think, if he hadn’t been wearing protection how the poor boy would feel. We should only mention it if he does... don’t you think?”

“Hmmm,” I heard dad reply uncertainly.

It was nice to know they weren’t mad at me and thought I was being grown up about my juvenile problem. I was feeling quite good about myself, now I was cleaned up, but a thought suddenly struck me – what if they knew I was listening and they were just saying all that for my benefit. That caused a massive blast of anxiety to course through my body and an extra, unsolicited spurt of pee into my towel.

Oh God I don’t need this worry. But the towel had saved my leaky embarrassment like the nappy had done. Bloody hell, I need a nappy whether I want one or not but thankfully, I have to wear one so...

I could hear them carry on with whatever they were doing downstairs so assumed the conversation had ended. I walked back into my bedroom and saw that mum wasn’t taking any chances and had laid out all the stuff I needed – Petroleum jelly, powder, a pre-folded fabric nappy, pins and a pair of new robust-looking blue vinyl pants. I sighed, despite it being a school day, I s’pose I shouldn’t have expected anything else - prevention is better than cure as she would say. Which of course is nonsense, a cure would be far better.

#

I’d just more or less got my head around the fact that I might need all this stuff at night but then worried ‘what if I had a similar accident during class or worse, in the middle of an exam?’ I’d already told mum about the uncomfortable soaker pad in my briefs from the day before and that I’d used a disposable for the rest of the day but the shitty mess I’d just left behind had taken my ‘problem’ to a different level. I was just trying to deal with that concern when mum came and joined me.

“I know, I know,” she was in straight away, “I can see you’re reluctant to wear all this for school, and I don’t blame you, but firstly we have to think what caused you to, you know...?”

For someone who wasn’t going to say anything she was certainly saying something.

I shrugged and nodded that I knew to what she was referring, it would have been difficult to try and deny it. Especially as there was a new small yellow pee stain on the towel I was trying to hide.

I explained about my nightmare and what the fear being discovered wearing a nappy at school had induced so, as a result, wasn’t keen on wearing all this stuff now... just in case it all kicked off for real.

“It’s up to you of course sweetheart, I’ve just laid it out as a recommendation but if you think you can cope with a possible accident wearing your normal underpants that’s fine by me.”

Of course, the way she said it, leaving it for me to decide, meant that I’d be stupid to ignore her suggestion.

“Won’t it look a bit bulky under my trousers?” I enquired.

“Well let’s see shall we... do you need any help?” She was already armed with the petroleum jelly to rub in so I simply dropped my towel and let her get on with it.

Although we’re a loving family and have few hang-ups this degree of intimacy was a relatively new thing. Mum and Dad had always given me my privacy, which I appreciated but with the wetting came something else, concern. I quickly understood that this was something I might not be able to handle on my own and certainly mum was keen to make sure I was armed for any eventuality. I learned fairly quickly that as far as mums in general are concerned, you’ll always be their baby no matter what age you are. I understood she was keen to help and it would be foolish not to accept all that was offered. She knew what was needed whereas I had no idea. Mum had made it her mission, whilst I needed to wear a nappy, to simply be there and help me through the process, which had her pinning me in when she felt it was more practical. She seemed to enjoy these times and I s’pose, to a certain extent, oddly, so did I.

#

Mum was completely unconcerned about why this should be happening as she simply got on with distributing the gooey jelly evenly around my newly naked parts.

“Mum, doesn’t this worry you?” I asked concerned.

“Not really love. You have a problem, which we hope to have sorted soon but, in the meantime, we’ve found a simple and effective way to keep any embarrassment to a minimum.”

Mini Mum, ha-ha... will that ever get old? I chuckled to myself.

Just so you’re in on the joke, dad is six foot one, I’m five foot eight, whilst mum is barely five feet, though nonetheless a complete powerhouse.

“But the expense of these nappies and such... well it can’t be cheap.” I casually added. Not that we are paupers but any new expense has to be taken into account.

Mum nervously interrupted “Yes, well now, erm, I’ve been meaning to chat to you about that... erm...”

I’ve never seen mum lost for words before so this caginess made me wonder what she was going to reveal.

“Er, Avril and I have been talking...”

“Mum, I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

“Oh no, of course, Avril is the lady at the pharmacy who I’ve been chatting to about, erm, all this.” She spread her hand out to indicate my nappy and the rest of the stuff.

“What do you mean... chatting about it... you mean me?” I asked a little incredulously.

“Yes,” she replied sheepishly. “I’ve been telling her about your problem and between us we came up with this as the best way to deal with it.”

She could see I wanted to complain about being the subject of idle gossip but she steamrolled ahead with what she had to say.

“And, as she’s been so helpful suggesting things, erm, she wondered if you’d be happy...”

Now it was my turn to interrupt. “MUM, isn’t it bad enough that I have this problem without everyone being in on it?”

“Love it’s not like that. She’s a qualified pharmacist and I wanted what was best for you until we see the doctor.” She patted my arm and looked searchingly for approval. “She came up with a load of suggestions but we settled on this.” I don’t know for sure but there may have been a brief look of guilt that passed over her features. “And, as we chatted, umm, she wondered, if perhaps, you’d like to be part of a new marketing and research programme? It would simply entail reviewing the stuff you are now using?”

“What?” By now mum had rubbed in all the goo, showered me in powder and shuffled the fabric under me. It wasn’t the best moment to take her to task for being mum.

“Avril was impressed by our openness and thought you sounded an ideal candidate to take this on.”

“What do you mean OUR openness? So, you’ve been ‘bragging’ about your incontinent sixteen-year-old son and now I’m an ideal candidate for...”

“Yes, I know” she’d picked up on my disbelief, “but surely a little bit of feedback is okay, isn’t it?” She opened the first pin and anchored the right-hand side of the hefty material and then got ready to do the same with the left.

I was completely floored by what she was saying and found it hard to reply. Words of anger, confusion and more assignments... I had hoped that with the exams all but over I wouldn’t have to do any more homework for months.

“Look, I said I’d ask. I’m also giving feedback from a mum’s perspective but they thought if a review came from your point of view... review, your point of view...” she seemed to find that amusing for some reason “Well, it would be different and the companies would be, well, we’re getting some of this stuff free or at cost price so...” She seemed both embarrassed she’d mentioned it and dismissive as if to say it wasn’t a big deal.

“So, you’ve already agreed?” I queried, more than a little annoyed mum should have volunteered me for such a thing. However, the thick, soft fabric was now in place and despite my many reservations it didn’t feel too bad – chunky, but soft and chunky.

I had been quite surprised at how quickly I’d gotten used to wearing a nappy to bed and after my initial reluctance to wear ‘plastic baby pants’ at how soon I’d taken to them as well. So far, as mum pointed out; by wearing a nappy I’d avoided any real embarrassment as these lovely little ‘baby’ items (as I jokingly referred to them) were proving more than effective.

She said nothing merely shuffled a new pair of thick blue vinyl pants up my legs and over the fluffy material.

She looked a bit sheepish but added “Please give it some thought. I waited until after your Maths exam to mention it. So, it shouldn’t be a time-consuming job... and what you say might just benefit others.”

“How?”

“Well, from a user’s point of view - how they feel at night, are they comfortable to sleep in and, erm, what are they like to wear for school... you know... day to day wear...?” She continued trying to persuade me. “Despite these companies doing loads of research they really appreciate actual consumer feedback and they don’t get enough from someone, erm, your age.”

“That’s because most lads my age don’t wear a nappy... and what’s more... those that do don’t want others knowing about it.” I was trying to be angry about the situation but of course, it was me that was peeing and shitting and the nappy was there for my protection.

I had already made a mental note, and Mum had of course made similar references, that since wearing one there hadn’t been any dirty bed linen or soggy PJs (but that was because I had such thick protection to sleep in I hardly wore them now) and, AND, the plastic pants did keep everything contained so it was just the soiled nappies that needed washing.

She patted my slinky padding and gave me one of those looks that said - It’s up to you but I think you should. “This could be something that helps others who might have a similar problem but are, unlike you, afraid to face it. I think you could be an inspiration.”

“Oh mum, is that why you want me to wear them now... so I can review them?”

Mum said nothing just left me to finish putting on my school uniform and checking if everything fitted alright.

“Come down when you’re ready sweetheart and we’ll see if...”

“Mum...?”

But she sheepishly exited and I was left wondering if I’d just been set up just so I could have slightly cheaper protection. Of course, my little problem was indeed costing us money, an extra strain of our family finances and that was because of me and my annoying bladder. I knew we weren’t poor and that dad’s job (and the company) was surviving okay under current terrible economic conditions but any unforeseen or extra layout could become a bit of a liability. I couldn’t let my dripping willy be the cause of the family missing out on something because of my need for nappies.

I looked around at the stuff piled on the dresser and understood that maybe, because of the obvious cost, I needed to think about such things before I had a go at people who were just trying to help.

Now I felt selfish and guilty, after all mum, and I s’pose the pharmacist, were only trying to do what was best for me. I needed to stop letting mum take all the responsibility and take some on myself.

# tbc #

Part 3

It was a struggle getting my school trousers over the cumbersome padding. It slid over everything easily but the fastener was tight and the zip took some manoeuvring. However, looking in the mirror, there was no doubt I was wearing something thick and obvious. Wearing my normal grey trousers wasn’t going to work and, as we had a pretty strict rule about school uniforms, which was rigorously enforced, I had to find something that would work without drawing attention.

Nothing of mine, that was suitable for school, fitted so I had to raid dad’s wardrobe to see if he had anything I could use. Unfortunately, with dad being so much taller than me his inside leg would have meant a huge turn-up and that would have looked silly.

“Mum,” I shouted down the stairs, “this isn’t going to work I need less padding.”

Mum returned to my room and saw me standing there in a school shirt and tie, thick nappy and waving my un-wearable trousers.

“Hmmm,” she said looking me over and beamed, “My, my sweetheart, you look so adorable, but, after last night, do you feel confident enough to wear less protection?”

Another spark of anxiety ran through my body. Under no circumstances do I want to shit myself whilst at school, of that I was certain.

“Well, I think I’ll have to as I can’t get these,” I waved the offending grey trousers in the air, “to fit over... it’s too bulky.”

“Don’t you have a pair of loose grey shorts you could wear?”

I did but...

“Mum, I’m sixteen... I can’t be seen going to school in shorts... besides... it’s not allowed. You remember last summer when it was hot and the Head wouldn’t even let us wear them then?”

“Hmmm, yes, wasn’t there a protest with some lads arriving in skirts? Right, I suppose we’ll have to come up with another idea.” She thought for a moment and then offered, “I have a grey pleated skirt you could try... it’s like the ones the girls at your school have to wear.”

I couldn’t tell if she was joking or not because she looked at me with such a straight face, which suggested what was on offer was a pretty good alternative.

“No one would know about the padding unless you did a little spin” and she mimed a little spin. “I’ll go and get it so you can try it on, eh? After all,” she theatrically peered out the window, “it looks like it’s going to be a fairly pleasantly warm day.”

I couldn’t believe what she was suggesting but then she gave a little giggle.

“Oh, yeah, very funny mum... I don’t think.” For a moment she had me.

“Got you wondering though, didn’t I?” She was enjoying my awkwardness. “I think you’d be able to carry off a skirt with no trouble but I suppose boys being boys, simply wouldn’t see the benefits.”   

“What benefits?” I wondered but didn’t want to encourage her taking this train of thought any further.

#

Mum eventually decided that maybe, on this occasion, it would be alright for me to wear a disposable, as long as I added plastic pants to the ensemble. I could have suggested that first but knew she hated the disposable aspect of such an item - though the name’s a bit of a giveaway I would have thought.

Anyway, she unpinned the fabric and then asked if I needed help with the disposable but as I’d worn one previously, it was something I could cope with on my own. She’d left the new blue vinyl pants out and was glad of the thinner, smooth material, which I was able to put on without incident.

The disposable was simply less bulky than the thick cotton fleecy fabric and felt quite nice and comfy once taped in place. It wouldn’t bulk out unless I peed a great deal into it and hopefully, should that happen, I’d have plenty of time to get to the school toilets and change. Before I pulled up my grey trousers, I ran my hands over the soft fabric and it was quite a subtle, plasticky experience. I wondered about needing the plastic pants but as mum had said to wear them, I thought I’d better.

“Extra protection,” she’d gently insisted.

A look in the mirror when I was fully dressed and it still showed a slight curviness to my bottom and crotch but certainly nowhere near as obvious as it had been. I felt I’d get away with it as long as Terry didn’t start being ‘funny’. As I walked downstairs to the kitchen the pleasantly pliable pants rubbed gently against my denuded genitals and after such a disastrous start to the day there was a frisson of excitement, I wasn’t expecting that early in the morning.

“Well, that looks okay,” mum said as she carefully inspected and patted down the area. “Although, if that’s what you need for school, I might have to have another word with Avril... see what we can come up with.”

“Mum, can’t you leave a complete stranger out of our affairs?” I whined but even to me I didn’t sound that convincing.

“We could,” she nodded but then pursed her lips to deliver her verdict, “but that’s not going to happen. My boy has a problem and the one person I can talk to about it might have the solution so...”

She was the expert; I was the subject matter. I wasn’t going to get much of a say in what was needed or decided upon. I looked across at dad who was taking all this in but not saying a word.

He put down his cup of coffee. “Your mother knows best,” with a nod that said we should leave it at that.

#

The school day started with Terry coming over with a firm pat on my behind and whispering, “How’s my baby brother this morning?”

“You can cut that out straight away,” I replied wriggling away from his hand that had stayed rubbing my bum.

“Ah get over yourself,” he laughed, “This is the padded bum of a boy who might need a change later... and want his big brother’s help.”

I scowled at him but the idea had made an impact and I felt a reaction in the folds of the soft comfy material. Weird, as I’d never thought of Terry in that way... or had I and just...?

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” was my dismissive response but the thought gave me a bit of a jolt.

Thankfully, there were no sport or gym lessons to worry about, although tomorrow we had a double games period, which would have us out on the playing fields for either football or rugby. My preference was for footie but sometimes the teacher in charge liked to change things around and you’d suddenly find yourself on a cross country run or doing laps of the grounds. Some of the teachers can be bloody sadists, especially if it’s freezing or throwing it down with rain.

Anyway, that would be something I’d have to handle tomorrow and hope mum and her new friend could come up with something else to cope with such a situation. Weirdly, in the first free period I found myself at my desk and doodling a short review of the disposable I was wearing.

The fabric is soft to touch and is easy to fix (or re-fix should you get it wrong as the tabs are easy to relocate...)

I crossed it out and tried again.

I’m more than a little surprised at how nice and comfortable this brand of disposables is, are, is... Not that I was expecting anything, in fact, I wish I wasn’t expecting to be wearing them but having said that, they are really quite nice to...

Oh bloody hell how can I write like that? It may be true but I can’t be seen to think that a teenager wearing a disposable is a good or nice thing to do, can I?

Mum and April, or Avril have put me in a spot but the thing is, they are bloody nice to wear despite what wearing them actually means. Perhaps that’s all I should put, keep it short and concise. Don’t elaborate or pretend I’m Shakespeare, just tell it in as succinct terms as I can, if that is possible when writing a review about nappies.

AND before anyone starts... ‘Goo-goo gaga, dribble and poo’ are equally not applicable for those wanting to be witty (at my expense) about this review business.

#

Whilst I was writing and trying desperately to try and come up with something that worked, Jenny, the girl I was going to pretend was my girlfriend should anyone ask about being de-pubed, came up and asked what I was doing.

“Oh, nothing much, just some homework I could have done without... how about you?”

She started telling me about her group of friends but although I feigned interest, we have sort of drifted apart... not that we were in any kind of relationship or anything. In fact, she’s really just a neighbour and when they first moved in she gravitated towards me, she must have been around eight at the time, and, even if I do say so myself, was fixated on me. If I went out, she seemed to follow me around and mum always told me to be polite and to look out for her as she was young and an only child so had no brothers or sisters to interact with.

As she got older, I wondered if people saw us as a couple but I tried to make sure we were just friends. Anyway, now she’s fifteen and in the year below me at school, she has a large group of mates and I don’t have much to do with her at all these days. Typical, just when I might need a pretend girlfriend, she’s not interested.

Anyway, we chatted through break and it was nice-ish to catch up but she seemed to have quite a busy social calendar with all the things she said she was involved with. She was getting excited that in the soon to be Summer Break, she was going to spend a month away in France with her mum and grandparents. Good for her I thought but in fact she had more going on than I had with what I had to look forward to - a wet nappy.

#

Later, when I returned home, Mum had completed her review of my messy morning padding. She asked if I wanted to read it but I shivered at the thought and she got the message.

“Are you going to write one from your perspective?” I could tell from the way she said it that an affirmative answer was expected.

“When I have time” I lied. I couldn’t use having to take Bruce for his evening ‘walk’ because dad was out with him at that moment.

“How about now... and then I can send both together and it will be done.” She could see I was trying to find an excuse not to but any claim I had homework to do she knew would be a lie... we break up in a few days and my exams were over. “Why don’t I make you a mug of Horlicks and you can go up to that laptop that’s standing idle in your room... and you can do it there”.

It wasn’t that late in the evening, and normally mum doesn’t make Horlicks (the family’s preferred hot malty, evening beverage) but I could tell she was putting me under a bit of pressure. Also, she’d be able to tie in my night time protection all at the same time (or after I’d done my review) so knew I’d be doing a review tonight whether I wanted to or not - so it was silly to put it off.

I trundled up to my room, the disposable I’d had on all day still hugged me nicely as I took each stair and realised, I only had good things to say about that.

Dad returned with Bruce who, after a rub down, came bounding up to my room so I could make a fuss of him. He’s always enthusiastic, jumping up to lick and be stroked, tail wagging like a mad metronome because he loves all the attention and “good boys” he gets.

A sudden thought hit me. I’m wearing a nappy, erm, protection these days perhaps instead of carrying around a couple of plastic ‘pick up’ bags Bruce might be better wearing a nappy as well. I wondered if Avril and those companies had thought of a ‘doggie-dos nappy’?

Meanwhile, I was still looking at an empty screen when mum arrived with my drink.

I don’t know if you know Horlicks as a night time drink but it’s one of those beverages that I got hooked on from when a little kid. I suppose a milky drink is something you get used to from being a baby but I just loved the smooth malty taste of Horlicks from the first moment I was given it. After that, I more or less insisted that I wanted one to help me sleep, relax me as I got older and had exams and in general, to make me feel all drowsy when it was time to sleep. I’m sure it wasn’t designed to make you fall asleep but as it worked for me, mum has never refused me a mug before bedtime. Even now, when I pee as I sleep, I’ve tried to cut it out but... sleep evades me and I am quite grumpy from lack of sleep in the morning. Also, these days, even without Horlicks I still wake up wet.

“Writer’s block love?” She ran her hand through my hair and placed the mug next to my hand.

“I’m just not sure what to put.”

“Okay, okay, well why not start at the beginning... I’ll ask you questions and you write down your answers.”

“Mum, do we have to? I mean...” without sounding like a whiny little runt, “can’t we just keep all this to ourselves?” I took a long sip of Horlicks, which usually relaxes me almost instantly but I was on edge.

She looked from the pile of things sat on my dresser; the fabric nappies, the plastic pants, the guardedly acquired disposables, the various oils, jelly, creams and powder and then back to me as if to say, ‘all this isn’t going away anytime soon’. So, without her actually saying a word I knew she’d made up her mind and I’d be doing that review.

However, she obviously didn’t want to force me to do it and simply tried to cajole me into it.

“Look love, the sooner we get this done the sooner you won’t have to think about it and you can get ready for bed without having worrying thoughts about what you’re going to write... because it will already be done.”

Her logic was impeccable but that still left me moaning about having to do it.

“Okay,” she started, “how does the disposable you’re wearing feel?”

“Well...”

“No, no love, write your answer down and just tell me when you’ve finished and I don’t want one-word answers. You’re not a robot you’re a high-grades student so expect a little more from you”.

She was really piling on the pressure but I knew she would be checking and I’d better get it right rather than doing it twice, or three times, or more.

I started typing.

I’ve been wearing this disposable all day and have to admit that it is was easy to put on and rearrange when I initially got the tapes in the wrong place, but the soft material has been comfortable and has not ridden up. The crinkle that accompanies wearing them was worrying to begin with but I soon forgot about that and none of my friends seemed to notice, so that was a bonus.

Today I haven’t had to use it for...

I looked up at mum and asked what word she thought I should use for pee.

“Urination.”

 ... a full urination but after almost ten hours of wear, and a constant dribble from my penis, it is still remarkably comfy and has not fallen apart.

I showed mum what I written and she nodded in approval, “See that wasn’t too difficult was it?”

“No s’pose not.” I had to agree it wasn’t difficult at all and, like having to wear protection in the first place, it would have helped if I’d just got on with things instead of over-thinking the situation.

“Right love; just make sure you add the name of the product to your review, then send that to my email and I’ll forward that to Avril along with my comments.”

“Do you want me to check your spelling?” I cheekily asked.

She smiled without comment, which I thought meant ‘no’, but didn’t pursue it, after all I’d already baulked at the idea of reading her offering. What if there’s personal stuff in her comments... would I really want to read what she says about my pee and poo functions? I think not. Let that remain a mystery.

I finished the Horlicks and re-read my comment/review and decided I should flesh it out more so added a little bit more ‘personality’ to the piece, write it in better prose, and felt strangely satisfied at what I’d written. With that I sent it as requested to mum and then set about getting hold of Terry or any of my other friends and link up for a spot of pre-slumber gaming.

#

Mum came up around eleven and told me to turn everything off and go to sleep. She was a bit surprised that after finishing the Horlicks I was still awake but said it was time to ‘settle down’. I was in the middle of shooting up a load of bad guys but, right at the beginning when the console was allowed in my room, it was agreed, lights out time was eleven. I know, I know, I’m sixteen and can decide for myself when I need to go to bed but, as it was something I agreed, even though I was a lot younger then, I’ve stuck to my side of the bargain. Some mornings at school I’ve seen the state of my mates who gamed all night and I’m glad we have this particular rule.

“By the way,” she started by way of conversation, “I liked the re-write of the review. I thought factual without being too introspective, well done.”

Surprisingly, I was still sat at the screen but only wearing my disposable and plastic pants that I’d had on all day. Although the fabric was damp and had filled out some, it hadn’t seemed to become too firm or uncomfortable and I hadn’t really noticed I’d been wearing it as I’d been so absorbed in the game.

“Well,” mum said as she patted the secure structure that encased my genitals, “that’s something you can add to the next review... ‘I didn’t know I had them on’ they’ll love that.” She smiled and ruffled my hair. “Time for bed sweetheart, go and have a quick wash and I’ll get your night time padding ready.”

She could see that I was a bit annoyed as I was doing quite well in the game and it’s always a slight embarrassment when you have to tell the other players you have to exit. There’s usually some comment about being mummy’s little boy, or some such, but, as I say, a deal’s a deal and have been thankful for that on a number of occasions. Mind you it would be a lot worse if they actually knew that I was being put in a nappy when I signed off.

I went to the bathroom and slipped down the cover and threw it in the sink, then shimmied down the disposable, which I was convinced could have held a little more, but I might have only been fooling myself. However, I was making mental notes for my next review so that’s how quickly mum’s influence worked on me.

Having given everything a wipe that needed wiping (and teeth brushed) I returned to see the fabric nappy all laid out and mum holding the cream ready to apply and rub in to every crease and crevice. It looked like she was determined that it would be her that made sure my nighttime requirements were on securely and that it would be pointless for me to try and object. I didn’t.

Bruce looked on but whether my situation interested him was hard to say. He wags his tail if I just look at him. He’s seen me naked and in all my many moods so mum fitting me in a nappy may be relatively new but not something to growl about.

Once that was done, and with mum explaining the nappy was a new brand I’d be using, so that would need a review as well. She’d wrapped me in much thicker padding, used some kind of grip to hold it all together and slipped up a new pair of tough clear plastic pants.

“All this stuff is new sweetheart, so what are your initial thoughts?” It felt really snug all wrapped up but I’d suddenly come over all sleepy and was pleased mum had stopped me gaming when she had. However, I just rolled over and said I’d tell her in the morning after I’d slept on it.

#

Now, although I was tired and cosy it did feel different from the previous stuff I’d worn to sleep in. Since mum had insisted on fabric nappies for bed there’d been a range of items I’d had to get used to. Mentally, I was doing a checklist as to the pros and cons of this latest ‘sleepwear’.

Firstly, the new barrier cream smelled nicer than previous stuff but the talc was about the same. The fabric was soft and thick and hugged in all the right places, whilst the newer transparent vinyl pants were whisper soft and hardly made any noise at all when I moved. The silky, smooth feel was still there but not a crinkle could be heard no matter how much I wriggled about. These were something I wouldn’t mind wearing to school. I opened up my laptop and jotted down my thoughts and before I knew it, I had a new review to send to mum. I was quite enjoying this diversion and then began to wonder what this Avril woman would be thinking when she gets our combined comments.

I fell asleep cuddling up to Bruce and thinking how the manufacturers would be hanging on our every word and no doubt changing entire structures and compounds of their products because of our opinions. I felt weirdly proud that my thoughts mattered and could influence a company. It was amazing how, in such a short space of time, I’d gone from a naysayer (I didn’t want anything to do with it) to a man on a mission, with the ability to make a change - the Ego had landed.

I think I might have been exaggerating my actual influence with the companies.

In the morning the ego has been replaced by a drenched nappy, though thankfully a dry bed. Of course, since mum had made sure I had proper protection at night, the bed remained dry and it’s only me that notices the dampness. However, like the disposable, this new thick and fleecy nappy miraculously didn’t feel too wet, the barrier cream had made it so my skin didn’t feel itchy and the plastic pants, well, they just kept everything in place. As I’ve now more or less abandoned wearing pyjamas, or even boxer shorts over my nightly padding, sliding out of bed with hardly any noise from those slinky vinyl covers is a wonderful bonus. I might add to the comments I made last night because I’m amazed at how comfortable they still feel even after such a soaking.

Bruce had dashed off after dad called him to go for a morning walk and again, I was struck by the way he could hold his pee and I couldn’t. Having said that, dad had to pick up Bruce’s business in one of those little plastic bags and my nappy had the same function. Johnny and Bruce were both “good boys”.

Unusually for me, I toddled down to breakfast just as I was. As I say, the plastic pants held everything where it should be and the fleecy nappy didn’t feel that wet. However, it was large and I had to think twice as to whether I really wanted to wander around the house showing off the fact that I’d soaked my nappy though weirdly now I wasn’t fazed by it. Partly I wanted to see just how it felt and also so mum could get a view and make her own assessment.

When dad returned, he was surprised to see me at the table wearing what I was and light-heartedly said that this was a new fashion statement of which he thoroughly approved. I think he was joking but mum beamed and we all chortled, if you can ‘chortle’ as a family. So, although I wasn’t keen on anyone else knowing about my bedtime arrangements, I wasn’t that bothered about mum and dad seeing me like this. In fact, I was relying on any comments I could use myself in the next review so really, I was parading about inviting a critique... though not criticism.

“Okay,” mum was back with her sales pitch, “I know this might be a bit distressing but I think Avril will need to have your opinion on yesterday morning’s full nappy.”

I’d conveniently forgotten about that and didn’t really want reminding as I’d not had a repeat, just a wet nappy.

“Muuummm,” was my reply and I saw dad grimace at the thought.

“Look love, it’s important if we’re going to do this then we need to cover all aspects and, as it has happened... let’s get full ‘disclosure’ and hope it doesn’t happen again.”

Now I scowled at the idea that it might happen again and happen when others were around. In truth, when I thought about it and just how incredible my protection had been to cope with such a double dose of pee and poo, I really had nothing but praise for the items in question. The fabric contained everything and although I felt dirty (as well as childish) I suppose they deserved a positive mention because my bed would have been in a terrible state otherwise. I made a mental note for when I returned to my laptop but asked mum if they were a different brand of nappy to the one, I was wearing at that moment. Apparently, they were, but how am I to wax lyrical over a dirty nappy?

#

Meanwhile, because I’d told her previously that I had sport as a double period at the end of the day and didn’t particularly want to wear either a nappy or a disposable for that, mum revealed that she and Avril had come up with a thicker pull-up that just looked like a pair of y-fronts that might do the job.

Apparently, because I’d so enthusiastically embraced each product, the nappy company was keen for me to try more and more.

Mum suggested that I wear a disposable and plastic pants for most of the day, which would take care of any dribbles and then change, perhaps in the lunch break, into my new ‘y-fronts’ and slip over my sports shorts so no one would need to see me change. Of course, she said that could also work if I had to wear a pull-up for the hour or so I’d be running around but, as we were trying new things, the company would like my opinion on this latest ‘teen’ product. It probably wouldn’t cope with a thorough wetting but a ‘light pee’ (as mum put it) should be okay.

Had I unintentionally become a company Guinea Pig?

As she held them up they appeared to be the same style and colour as a pair of traditional y-fronts. They were a little bit padded but the gel was subtly arranged throughout the fabric that it didn’t really show. Much the same as the disposable and pull-up but they also had a fine outer cover of plastic, which was then covered by a fine layer of white cotton. To all intents and purposes, they looked like a pair of slightly thicker y-fronts.

I tried them on and they did feel quite comfortable. In fact, everything I now had to wear seemed really nice against my de-pubed skin. I could tell there was padding because of the slightly stodgier feel but that seemed to be an extra benefit rather than something to worry about. I thought this Avril woman was going all-out to get me into all kinds of helpful products her pharmacy sold.

I had thoughts of appearing as the ‘cover guy’ for all teen incontinence products, smiling knowingly to camera and a subtle thumbs-up gesture to show I was in the know and sanctioned their use. I hoped the by-line would be better than:

John Benedict approves these nappies

# tbc #

Part 4

What seems to have happened since this nappy wearing had become more than just a preventative measure, I’ve somehow slipped into being some kind of teen spokesperson for this type of thing. Weirdly all the stuff I’ve been given to wear has made me feel special, protected and comfortable.  All words I’ve used in my reviews.

I’m not sure if it’s down to being more at ease with the situation or mum’s, and I s’pose Avril’s, encouragement to make the most of my condition. Whilst I have this problem, and able to ‘talk’ about it, I can maybe go some way to alleviate other young people’s worries about anything similar they might be going through.

According to the pharmacist, it was mum’s openness talking about it without any denial or embarrassment that made her think we were both ideal to break down some of the awkwardness others might feel. Avril told her that the company involved was using selected independent pharmacies as trial markets for their new products, which they hoped to release to wider general public once they knew if the items, they offered would be successful. It was simply a trial period and all products used and reviewed by those selected would be at cost or free depending on what they decided to launch.

Avril had been insistent to mum that our personal opinions would, in the long run, make a huge difference and therefore be incredibly important to both users and buyers of these products, which apparently is not necessarily the same thing.

You would have thought that these companies would have done their research, and of course they had, but it was a growing area of unknown reactions. It would appear that no two teens with anxiety issues were alike and that finding a product to suit one would be the opposite of what the other wanted.  Therefore, my input was crucial when others were afraid or too self-conscious to talk about such issues. There was an awful lot of denial going on by people who would have benefitted greatly from wearing protection.  

It’s amazing that in such a short space of time my opinion of what I thought I was doing had changed so dramatically. That was down to the words of mum and Avril... “This is important work”.

#

My night time nappies had become thicker, but somehow softer and gentler to wear and acted more as a sleep-aid rather than something simply to soak up piss. Even the special y-fronts had been a revelation; slowly absorbing my dribbly pee and yet, as they bulked out slightly, became nicer to wear. Even with all the running and tackling on the football pitch, they didn’t feel like I had on any protection at all. So that was an incredible benefit -simply forgetting I had them on.

The thing was, although I knew they were just a slightly different design to a pull-up, they looked like they were meant for a guy who perhaps would have a problem admitting to needing such a perceived childish item. It not only worked well; it dispelled that guilt some have that they actually need help because of urinary issues (and perhaps teen boys are in the majority on that particular graph). However, I had been warned that the ‘would-be y-fronts’ wouldn’t hold a full urinary assault, only a relatively small amount but one that hopefully would give enough time to visit a nearby bathroom. The other drawback was that they were considerably more expensive to produce than the usual nappies or pull-ups.

No doubt there is a female equivalent of me giving similar comments to her pharmacist.

Of course, as Avril received more and more of my undoubtedly positive reviews and comments, she was finding more and more products for me to try. Soon it appeared that nearly all the surfaces in my bedroom were covered in things desperate for my endorsement. Well, that’s what it looked like and the bizarre thing was I loved the fact it was my opinion, my seal of approval, that was doing all this. I had easily slipped into this position and secretly (or so I thought) loved what I assumed was a very important but niche job.

Mum told me that, according to Avril, it was a growing area of concern because teen anxiety issues were becoming more of a problem. Great swathes of young people were getting frazzled, not with just school work but social media acceptance and media portrayal in general. The amount of pressure to be something, or like someone, or be accepted by others, was immense. Whilst a reaction to all this stress – anxiety pants wetting, beds and undies was almost reaching epidemic proportions.  

Mum had said she’d noted with a great deal of pride, despite my initial reluctance, how I’d thrown myself into the work. She said my reviews were both personal and ‘laser sharp’ and that I’d become at ease with wearing all manner of nappies and protection. She saw this as a bonus and added that particular observation to her own comments from a parent’s perspective.

‘If the teen can accept the need for protection and is comfortable wearing it - that is the battle all but won’

That was one of the reasons that the products were not only practical for where they were needed but also offered a layer of comfort to help soothe unease. Soft, fleecy material offered such properties because they often carried a ‘memory’ associated with the material. A special blanket from childhood, a teddy or stuffed animal... something that would link back to a time in their life where being fretful was not a problem - a worry soothed by holding such an item. Of course this wouldn’t apply to everyone, that was why they were desperately trying new innovations and, again according to Avril, why the companies where so keen to get the feedback I was offering. She said they were not only pretty impressed that I’d picked up on that fact but also appeared to be ‘on board’ with the concept of ‘memory regression’ through the sensitive fabrics they used on each product they offered.

However, throughout all this, my dick still dribbled and continually woke up with a soaked nappy. Thankfully my date with the doctor was looming large so maybe I’d get some kind of answer from him. The thing was, and this might have been picked up on by mum, I didn’t mind the thick, soft nappy every night. I suppose it was because I was usually wearing one most of the time these days and just got used to it being there... I think?

#

‘Memory Regression’ was that something real or just an advertising slogan and more to the point, was I on board with it? Did I want to be regressed or was it more about a pleasant childhood memory – well, that was my take on it anyway.

School was coming to an end for summer break but wearing protection hadn’t been the problem I thought it was going to be. Of course, I still got the occasional comment from Terry but never anything nasty and as far as I could see, he’d mentioned it to no one else. All that had passed off without incident although my wetting continued but each item, I’d been given to try out had proved pretty good at its job. Mum and dad were supportive; they were used to seeing me around the house wearing nothing but some new or improved nappy or colourful protective gear.

Every spare moment I now had I spent thinking about this concept. I wore whatever they sent me and found myself happily commenting and incredibly enjoyed wearing the newest item. But I had to ask myself if I was really appreciating it and if so, why? Suddenly a thought crept into my head - was there something else going on that I wasn’t aware of but maybe should be?

Yes, the ‘Memory Regression’ idea was plaguing my thoughts, was it a good or bad thing? I understood that for a person my age, or anyone who wasn’t a toddler but needed to wear a nappy for some reason, might have worries about such a product. There were social, personal and practical concerns that went with it, so, I could see the argument for a company offering such a ‘memory’ to take any social awkwardness out of such a ‘conflict of emotions’.

So, the answer to the question I’d posed to myself earlier - I could see the benefits to that being a positive thing?

Nevertheless, I knew from my own experiences using the products so far that I had come to love each and every item. Whatever title or description they wanted to use didn’t bother me - I got the company’s concept and quite liked it. Perhaps weirdly, I was wearing 24/7 and felt comfortable doing so and although I could see this as a ‘good thing’ I was beginning to wonder if I was becoming reliant on them. Was it possible that would lead to wanting them when I actually no longer physically needed such protection?

So, was this reliance or ‘memory’ a bad thing?

Perhaps I was lulled into accepting them because so far, apart from Terry, I had no reaction from others. All my other friends were oblivious to what I was wearing and Terry only commented on my being his “little baby brother” when there was no one else in earshot. Oh, and that was another thing, when he said that, I now quite liked the idea but I put that down to the fact that I was at ease wearing what I had to wear but of course, there was probably another, more obvious reason?

#

I was sitting typing all this info on my laptop but looked down at what I was wearing. It was nine o’clock at night and I had on a fleecy onesie, which was holding up a thick fabric nappy, which itself was surrounded by the soft, silky feel of a pair of baby vinyl pants. I say ‘baby’ because of the childish design they had all over them, which at first made me baulk at wearing such an item. All these different products were from their anticipated, ‘Memory Regression’ range, although, after other responses hadn’t been that positive about the slogan they were thinking of rebranding it to something more like ‘Dreamtime’ or something similar. Nevertheless, for me, the wonderful comfy fleecy nappy seemed the perfect accompaniment to the onesie and should, in fact, needed to be paired together. It was like I just thought it natural they should be worn as a set... and the onesie... Ohhhh... now that WAS an experience!

I remembered this thought process going through my head at the time and didn’t think anything about it. I stood in front of the mirrored wardrobe and looked at myself – the reflection was clear; I’d become a teenage baby. A shiver of realisation and annoyance shook my body and I was just about to remove the lot when, out the corner of my eye I saw some other items on top of the chest of drawers. I walked over and there was a small Teddy bear (a thank you from the company) and amongst the powder and barrier cream containers was a purple dummy. It was that which had really caught my eye because it had stood out by its size.

I hadn’t used a dummy since I was a toddler and I’d certainly not used this one, which was large enough for an adult. I don’t know why, or under what compunction, but almost without thinking I popped it between my lips and immediately started sucking. Surprisingly, all that I was wearing made sense. I needed the thick padding because I wet myself and I needed all the rest because it made me happy, comfy and secure. How could I not wear something that offered so much?

I climbed into bed still sucking on that piece of plastic and silicon but it made me feel like I hadn’t felt before... and was that a taste of fruit? I wanted mummy to come and tuck me in and kiss me bye-byes. But as I sucked, I felt myself drifting off into a peaceful sleep all snug and protected with a lovely warm glow coming from my nappy. I was aware I was wetting myself but as I was in a lovely, happy dream full of colour and fun, it just didn’t matter. Bruce was curled up at the foot of my bed so all was right with the world.

#

Mum came in to wake me up for school.

“I’ve called you twice,” she said by way of explanation “but you must have been hard.... what the....”

She looked surprised.

“Since when have you been using a dummy?”

She was looking down at me as I was still taking in the morning and trying to fathom out what she was talking about. My pillow was soaked with drool and of course I could feel my nappy was equally wet.

I tried to speak and it was only then I realised what she was talking about.

“Ermmm” At that moment I had no response. Drool was dripping and making damp patches on the front of my onesie. I quickly pulled the dummy out as if I was guilty of some incredible gaffe.

“Mmmmm,” she looked curiously for a moment and then started to leave, “You’re late, very late and have twenty minutes to get ready so... get a move on”

I was still holding the dummy and wondering how and why I had used the damn thing. I vaguely remembered seeing it amongst all the other stuff on my dresser but, as far as I knew, I hadn’t put it there, and, judging by mum’s reaction, she hadn’t either, so had it just arrived unnoticed among the last batch?

I had no idea why I’d slept late as that was most unlike me, I like to be ahead rather than rushing around. However, I had to admit I’d had probably the best and deepest night’s sleep for quite some time– I’d been relaxed, comfortable and my head had gone to a place of happiness the moment it hit the pillow. Oh, and something else I had the flavour of blackcurrant in my mouth.

owever,

As I eventually roused myself, I had to acknowledge that my style of pyjamas had become more childish. The comfy thick fabric nappy, playful plastic pants and joyful onesie (all comments I knew I’d made in my last review) had made sleeping, and peeing, an unfussy part of my night time procedure.

The small teddy had also spent the night with me and I remembered happily hugging it as I sucked on the dummy. I felt really happy.

Anyway, it was time to stir myself and get off to the last day of school term. Thankfully I had my uniform and stuff in general already laid out so after a quick release from my onesie and a wipe down, I slipped into a newly designed and much thinner disposable they hoped would be more convenient for daywear, less obtrusive. I was to be the first to try it out and mum hadn’t minded that some of the things the companies sent were disposables... so she’d changed her mind a bit as well.

#

“Morning Avril.”

“Morning Susan,” the pharmacist greeted her favourite customer with a huge smile.

The two had become firm friends and this was a social meeting for coffee. However, the dummy John had been sporting that morning was a bit perplexing and Susan wanted to know if she should be worried.

After they’d ordered a couple of cappuccinos and settled down Avril sensed that there was something on her friend’s mind.

There was a slight lull in conversation.

“Susan, you look like something’s troubling you...”

Susan shrugged, “Yes, well, this morning I saw that John was sucking on a dummy and, from his drool-soaked pillow, it looked like he’d been nursing on it most of the night. I’m not sure about this new development.”

Avril took in what her friend was saying and then took a moment to respond.

“Well, I don’t think it’s anything much to worry about...” She was happy at this turn of events and was thinking on her feet.

“You don’t...?”

“No love, I don’t. You see, all the latest ‘teen’ packs of nappies and disposables now include a free soother, dummy, paci, call it what you will because the feedback to the company has overwhelmingly supported the idea.”

She smiled at her not overly convinced friend.

“Although a teenager is highly unlikely to request a dummy, in many surveys it has been found to be the one thing that can almost immediately help reduce stress.”

She saw Susan take an interest and the pharmacist’s face had brightened as she enquired, “First things first though, did he enjoy using it?”

“Ermm, I think so but, well, he’s sixteen and it just didn’t seem...”

“Look Susan, there are many reports and surveys that say that a dummy helps people relax. In Japan and other places in Asia, stressed out students and even company executives are taking to using them as an aide to reduce those times when the world, job and expectation are just getting too much.”

“Really?” Was Susan’s surprised response.

“As a mother you must remember using a dummy to pacify your crying child and the effect sucking on that little teat produced. Well, the company wondered if it might have an equal effect on our anxious teenagers but, because of social unacceptance and general teen angst, they would be unlikely to use one if they had to ask for it.” She watched to see if Susan was buying any this. “However, by providing one in the pack, there appears to be a primal urge, possibly because of a hidden memory of when they were a child, to suck and be relieved of any mental burden they may at that time be carrying.”

“Hmmm, I suppose that makes sense.” Susan nodded.

“Well, I can tell you, judging from the first batch of reviews; both parents and kids seem to appreciate them.” She laughed lightly as the worry from her troubled friend began to lift. “It’s good that John has tried it, in fact, what colour is it?”

“Um, purple I think,” indicated Susan.

“Mmmm, blackcurrant... they are colour coded and made in several flavours to help with that initial taste. Most feedback has said that it has helped amazingly with sleep patterns, comfort, a relaxed mental state... it seems that a dummy is what everyone has been waiting for... and it was available all along.... so, who knew?” She laughed at the absurdity of the situation.

“So you think it’s okay for him, a sixteen year old, to be sucking on a dummy?”

“Well, as I say, from what we’re seeing from feedback, it’s not only okay, it’s a much-needed tool to help any stressful issues fade away. You see Susan, as we’ve spoken about before, there’s a lot of the fear and embarrassment that goes with teenage bedwetting, or damp undies, that actually makes things worse. So, if we can release them from that fear, although it doesn’t cure a ‘leaky tap’, at least doesn’t put added pressure for secrecy or shame on the situation.”

“Mmmm, yes, I can see that... but it was such a shock to see.”

“But Susan, tell me the truth, was it that much of a shock now you’ve got your boy to wear nappies and onesies... you’ve said in the past he looks cute when wearing a nice fitting nappy...”

Susan shyly and guiltily shrugged and acknowledged that she did indeed find it all made her teenage son look damn cute. The added dummy, although a surprise, had made him look even more adorable so she wasn’t sure if she should be complaining or not. After all, that ‘cuteness’ had been a visual bonus and even though she felt guilty about it there was no denying her motherly feelings were in overdrive every time she saw him in something juvenile and adorable.

“So, if he’s happy and you’re happy... and the bedding is being kept dry... I’d say that the products were doing what they were designed to do... wouldn’t you?”

They chinked the cappuccinos together “Cheers, I suppose you’re right.”

The two women settled down to talk about other things and make their friendship* that much stronger.

* Meanwhile, several social media sites using their reports, reviews and conversations to promote the company’s range of products had been set up. Photos were added (though for privacy - not of the actual reviewers) to emphasise that these were real comments from real people. As a result, the sites were seeing a huge daily upsurge in new and interested subscribers. As predicted, teenage anxiety was indeed a growing area to exploit. There was another thing that Avril had not told Susan... the dummy’s flavour was fairly addictive. This was nothing to do with the nappy company but a little sideline that she and a ‘chemist’ friend was hoping to introduce. The teat was permeated with a new ‘soft’ drug not unlike a ‘fruity’ ecstasy... though not quite as mind bending but did leave a feeling of wellbeing, love and a wish for happier times.

# tbc #

Part 5

Monday morning and with school over and an upturn in the weather Bruce and I were out and about enjoying the first days of summer break. Off the leash and scampering through the wood and sniffing just about every tree (with an occasional cock of the leg) it was Bruce and not me leaving a trail of pee everywhere he went... I chuckled at the thought.

I’d woken up to my now usual thick drooping nappy. Even though school was over for another year I had responsibilities to exercise Bruce and the noise he was making that morning to get out meant there was some urgency. Because the sun was out, and it was fairly early, I didn’t think about my comfort. I pulled a pair of cotton rugby shorts that were on top of a pile of freshly washed clothes over my sagging nappy, slipped on a hoodie and, as Bruce was jumping up eager for relief, put him on a lead and headed out the back gate and into the nearby woods.

Today held a particular significance for me, as at 11:30am I finally had my long-awaited appointment with the doctor. Over the past couple of months, I had been continuously trickling into my undies and protective wear, patiently counting down the days until this consultation. The sense of urgency I’d felt a few weeks earlier—prompted by the realisation that my condition was worsening and needed to be addressed—had slowly faded. Now, I found myself quite content to wear a wet nappy beneath a pair of shorts. With no school or exams to think about, in many respects, I felt surprisingly uninhibited by my situation or attire. It was as though all restraints had fallen away, much like Bruce when he’s let off the leash, and believed I could simply do as I pleased.

 My parents had noticed the difference but put it down to my enthusiasm for this new quirky literary outlet. Recently, when I returned home from school or at weekends, I paraded about the house just wearing a nappy, sometimes with plastic pants other times I wasn’t that bothered. Mum couldn’t believe the amount of time I was now putting into each review or how committed I was to trying new things. Asking her and dad what they thought such and such an item looked like and what their views were. I’d then watch myself in the mirror to see if their observations were the same as mine or alter my opinions accordingly. Spending time wearing nappies and the assorted paraphernalia that came with them, thanks to the ever-persuasive Avril, had become a pleasure and so my comments and reviews also became more detailed... and glowing.

My social life was diminishing, my literary output increasing.

Occasionally they’d see me with the dummy in my mouth though usually I kept that for night time; it was a great boon to sleep... I thought it even better than Horlicks. My dreams were colourful, childish and happy. It was a place I was always keen to return to when bedtime called.

...I appreciate the comfort and range of the new designs of Dreamtime wear that’s now being offered. Meanwhile, the new FruitiZuckers I never thought I’d take to at all BUT I’ve found it an aid to sleep and has helped me to relax in general. Not only that, but the different flavours oddly make me want to collect the entire array. Who knew I’d love a dummy as much as any baby?

Although the pharmacist still supplied me with products every now and then, I’d got into a routine whereby I liked the comfort of the fleecy fabric nappies and so tended to wear those particular fuzzy items the most. I’d also been given the complete range of flavoursome dummies to try, which was yet another pleasure I was happy to rave about in reviews. The main thing that seemed to happen was that I slept much deeper, dreamed more but also produced more pee. I regularly needed my nappy changed and not just in the soggy morning. Incredibly, I didn’t mind. I was permanently in a happy mood and thought my situation was just natural.

You may be thinking “What does your father think about all this”? Well, dad goes with whatever mum says and as she’s the one to keep up with laundry and discussions with the pharmacist, he tends to keep his comments to the minimum (ha-ha, mini mum again). Once and a while he’ll ask if I’m sure about ‘all this’ but realises I’m not complaining so usually shrugs at my response. If he does have concerns he chats to mum, she puts his mind at rest, and those worries evaporate.

So, my nightly wetting hadn’t decreased over the period (if anything it had gotten worse), but I’d been waiting for the doctor’s appointment for so long I’m now less stressed about it. In fact, I was so used to wearing a nappy these days and nights that the thought of losing it, perhaps oddly, made me uneasy – I’d come to rely on the security it offered to contain everything no matter how much my bladder leaked. I wondered if I should admit this at the consultation or was it better to keep quiet and see what the doc had to say.

#

All these thoughts were running through my head as Bruce led me further into the wood investigating every root and branch, sniffing each intoxicating smell that I couldn’t detect. At one point Bruce did his business so I was there with a little plastic bag to scoop up the poop. It again occurred to me that I was wearing plastic pants myself and thought they were basically there to do the same thing. Oddly, as if in some symbiotic connection I could feel my bowel bubbling and knew if I didn’t return home soon it wouldn’t be long before my ‘plastic pants/bag’ would be put to use.

I amused myself with thoughts of Bruce wearing a nappy, thus I wouldn’t need a supply of poop bags. However, on the occasion when I’d woken up to a messy nappy I’d not been keen on repeating the experience. Though I’d found that on several recent occasions my relaxed state had meant a few near misses. At that thought a burst of anxiety ran through me and unconsciously I reached for the dummy I now kept near for just such occasions.

#

Since their arrival, and despite what judgement I thought a lad my age should have about such things, I found myself happily sucking on the flavoursome teat and enjoying the experience more and more. It filled my head with happy thoughts and relieved even the most basic worry – I simply wasn’t bothered. Mum had said that Avril had told her that quite a few other ‘teens’ had found them a comfort so knew I wasn’t alone in my thinking. No matter which flavour, a few slurps and the feeling of bliss and total relaxation immediately followed and I’d find myself still instinctively sucking on it hours later. Babies seemed to enjoy the activity so I assumed they must get the same feelings as I did and that’s why it’s so popular with them. Daft reasoning I know but when sucking on a soothing dummy it made sense. That was the thing about them, I constantly had a feeling that everything was satisfactory and as it should be... therefore, no need to stress. Unfortunately, no stress meant regular soggy nappies. So often now the first indication I need to pee is when my nappy is already warm from a piss, I hadn’t known I needed.

The leak guards were exceptional and surprisingly comfy. They retained any major leaks, which together with the new Retro range of plastic pants made me feel safe and secure. There was a softness to the material that seemed to offer immediate comfort and it was wonderful to feel that much thought and effort had gone into producing such a special and delightful to wear disposable.

#

We’d hardly met anyone else as Bruce and I meandered around so felt unashamed as I slipped the dummy between my lips and appreciatively sucked on this new green soother (apple flavour) and continued on our way. I was still thinking about Bruce’s inhibitions when it came to taking a dump and thought how wonderful it was not to be worried by such social conventions. Suddenly, because I felt relaxed the urge to just let loose became strong. Perhaps strong is the wrong term, it was as if I felt it didn’t matter and the normal thing for a lad who needed a shit to do. So, encourage by Bruce’s lack of concern on such occasions I crouched down and let go.  

#

As I did it I was fine but the moment I stood up - Why the hell have I done that? I hadn’t liked it when I’d done it accidently so why would I...?

This was stupid... one moment I was happy to dump in my protection the next quite disgusted with myself. This was very confusing but now it was confusing with a large mess in the rear of my already sagging nappy. I just hoped my plastic pants would contain it all.

As soon as I noticed people approaching, I quickly slipped the dummy back into my pocket and clipped Bruce’s leash on again, not wanting to draw any unwanted attention to myself—especially given the uncomfortable situation in my padding. The walk home from the woods felt considerably longer than usual, each step reminding me of the sticky, unpleasant sensation clinging to my skin. Even though I’d made the decision myself and, in a strange way, it felt almost normal at the time, I couldn’t help but shudder at just how horrible it actually was—bluurrgghh, there’s nothing nice about it.

Despite the discomfort, I was genuinely grateful for my nappy and plastic pants, which had done their job by containing the mess and sparing me any outright embarrassment. Now, the responsibility for cleaning up fell squarely on my shoulders. I knew I couldn’t expect Mum to rush in and sort it out for me, as helpful as that might have been. After all, I’m sixteen. I shouldn’t be doing this—I shouldn’t be messing myself, even with protection in place. Yet, the undeniable truth was that I had, and there was no avoiding it.

Although I was thinking what a terrible and childish thing I’d done, strangely I sensed my nappy was hugging me in a most pleasant way. Like it was making it clear that no matter what I deposited in it, that fleecy material would cope and still ‘protect’ me and make me feel good. This was a weird argument to have with myself, one second positive about my nappy yet a moment later negative about what I’d done. I wasn’t sure how I could feel both at the same time, was I conflicted about it or... that’s just what happens.

Back home in the bathroom I popped in my dummy and sucked furiously as I changed out of the mess. Now I felt calmer it didn’t seem so much of the trial I thought it would be and in next to no time I’d actually cleaned myself up and got myself nicely fitted into a fresh disposable, which had pretty coloured cuffs and waistband. I shuffled up a pair of thick blue plastic pants and was pretty pleased with the results. Meanwhile, Bruce was standing next to me all the way through the procedure wagging his tail as if he was as pleased as I was in what I’d done. We had something in common – do bears shit in the wood?  Yes, and so do me and my dog.

#

At 11:20 I was sitting in the doctor’s reception with a load of other ‘sick’ people awaiting my appointment. For the doctors I was wearing jeans over my padding and hoped that it wasn’t too obvious. I wasn’t particularly looking forward to speaking with Doctor Simmons, the physician that I’d seen for just about every medical matter I’d had since being a baby but at least he would know my history and I’d not have to share many details with someone new.

At 11:40 John Benedict - Room 4 appeared on the screen and I toddled over and into the doctor’s office. I was greeted at the door, not by my old, experienced and trusted doctor but a fresh-faced locum who introduced himself as Doctor Answah.

“Hello, come in and please take a seat,” he offered politely, “what can I do for you today?”

“Erm,” I said as I took the offered chair, “Is Doctor Simmons coming to join us...”

“No,” he said matter-of-factly, “he’s away on sick leave so... you have me today... so... what seems to be the trouble?”

A doctor being sick was a strange thing to think about but for a brief moment my own problem seemed irrelevant. How do doctors get sick (I thought to myself distractedly) surely, they can take precautions before that could happen? 

Now mum and dad have always told me to be polite (which I am) and not waste time (which I try not to do) but this young Asian doctor was looking directly into my eyes and I dried up. I mean, how could I tell this young chap about wetting and dribbling all over the place but that was exactly what I was there to do.

“Erm.”

He peered at the computer that was open at my file and he took a look.

“Oh, sorry, I see from the notes that you are suffering from a little incontinence.” He turned back and gave me a fleeting smile, “Not to worry, there are many possible causes and some are easy to fix so why not tell me what stage we’re at... take your time.”

Of course, this was the NHS and ‘taking your time’ was not the way these things worked. I needed to tell him my problem, get a prescription or whatever he advised and get out of there as quickly as possible. There were other ‘sick’ people waiting who possibly needed his services because of a real medical emergency... but I froze.

However, he indicated the paper covered examination couch behind me and said why don’t I loosen my jeans and he’d examine to see if there was any physical damage.

I flinched at the fact he’d see my thick nappy and plastic pants but it was too late and I had to go through with it, no matter how embarrassing it might be for me.

Before I opened my pants, I told him that I was wearing protection and hoped that didn’t put him off. Why I thought it might I don’t know? He was a professional doctor and had no doubt seen all manner of strange and possibly exotic underwear in his time. I just hoped he didn’t fall about laughing when he saw mine.

He didn’t.

“Very sensible,” is what he actually said and after that I felt a little more relaxed. The blue nitrile gloves were the next edition to his medical skills and I lay back and hoped I wouldn’t piss myself whilst he was at it.

Over the next few minutes, he prodded and poked, listened and took blood pressure and pulse, heart rate and a few other checks to my general health status. He questioned me about ‘lifestyle’ (which completely passed me by) and I told him about the pharmacist and mum signing me up to do reviews and such, which he made a note of on the computer.

He also said I was not the only person my age who needed to wear a nappy because over the few weeks he’d been a locum at the practice he’d seen a couple of teenagers who also had need of them. He wondered if perhaps there was something else going around. He seemed most interested in the fact I was receiving ‘free’ protective wear and made further notes about what and where I did what I’d been doing (reviews) for the past few weeks. However, I didn’t mention how much I was enjoying the experience or that I’d recently taken to sucking on a dummy when I got agitated (and often when I didn’t).

He enquired if I’d been having dreams or nightmares. Did I drink alcohol? (I’m sixteen and it’s something mum and dad wouldn’t have allowed, still he knew that not all teenagers stuck to the law). We discussed a few possible situations which might lead to ‘unintentional’ wetting. He tried to make it so that I didn’t think I was doing it on purpose but now he’d put the thought in my head I wondered if I was.

“All in all, Mr Benedict you seem quite healthy but I’ll run some blood tests,” He looked at his computer and rolled through a file that said Phlebotomist. “I can book you in for a blood test first thing next Tuesday morning if you can make it?”

I nodded so we agreed a time and he made the appointment. Whilst typing in the information he asked a few other questions like - did I share my room with a baby or brother or sister who wet? I smiled and told him I only had Bruce and he suddenly looked serious.

“Hmmmm,” he seemed to find from that information some kind of basis for a possible source. “I suggest you sleep without having the dog in the room.” He made further notes. “It’s possible,” he continued, “that some animals can be the cause of various reactions to their slumbering owners.” He continued his explanation. “You might be allergic to his fur, or something he’s brought into the room, dust, pollen the like...” he said. “Give it a try for a few weeks and see if that improves the situation. If not, come back and we’ll try something else. In the meantime, I think the, erm, ‘protection’ should be OK but I suspect, without the dog sharing your sleeping arrangements you’ll find a big improvement.”

And with that advice I was out of his office and wondering how I was going to explain to Bruce he was no longer allowed to share my room... especially after he’d just taught me to shit in the woods.

#

However, on my way home the only thing that had grabbed my attention was - who were these other people, teenagers, wearing padding? Was the pharmacist doing a large survey and was I really just a small cog in a huge enterprise?

Then my thoughts turned a little more suspicious.

What if my wetting was part of a conspiracy of some kind? What if all teenagers in this area (and maybe worldwide) were intentionally being made reliant on wearing protection. What if we’re all being turned into a nation of pants-wetters? Nappy-making companies would dominate the world and we’d all have our toilet habits proudly displayed on the washing line each day.

Hell, I’m not sure where that stream of consciousness came from but it got me wondering.

When I got home, I looked at the pile of stuff that now occupied my bedroom and questioned how I’d let myself become so entrenched in all this... this... whatever it was?

At that moment mum came into my room carrying a whole batch of freshly laundered nappies and I voiced my concerns to her.

She came over, sat down and hugged me because she could see, despite having been grown up about all this so far, I was now quite despondent. That cuddle felt nice and just what I needed. Like wearing my nappy, it made me comfy and the brief touch of anxiety drifted away. In fact, mum and dad, nappies and onesies, plastic pants and dummies, hugs and kisses all made me feel... safe.

“Look love,” she gently patted my back as she released me from the hug, “is it possible the doctor only said what he said so that you didn’t feel like the only boy... sorry... teen who was wetting?”

That pulled me up a bit as I hadn’t thought of that at all.

“And maybe he just didn’t want you worrying about wearing a nappy.” Having dispensed that thought she thought for a moment. “Anyway, did he say anything else or give you a prescription”

I looked at mum feeling like a bloody stupid twit; of course, the doctor had said what he said so I didn’t feel bad about wearing a thick nappy. I mean that’s what I’d been worrying about when I saw him so he was bound, ethically bound, to try and relieve my anxiety. Even if he discovered others wearing nappies it could be down to the simple fact, as I thought it was for me, exam stress. Mum, as I’ve mentioned before, is the font of all knowledge and put a different slant on my worries that made me think.

“He said he thinks I’m quite healthy but wants me to have a blood test next Tuesday at 9am.” Mum nodded as if she half expected that. “Ohh, yes, he also said I shouldn’t let Bruce sleep in my bedroom as, and I wasn’t sure how this was supposed to work, but according to him, animals have been known to cause bed-wetting.”

“Oh well I never knew that.” She sounded puzzled.

“Me neither.” I simply shrugged.

“However, I do know in general that dogs on and in the bed is probably not the greatest idea,” Mum shrugged. “I suppose it’s worth a try and see what happens but suspect Bruce isn’t going to be very happy about finding a new place to sleep.”

“No, I’m sure he won’t.” I affirmed. The dog’s bed he rarely used was still at the foot of my bed so that had to go as well.

Meanwhile, mum went over and patted the pile of clean nappies on the dresser.

“You do know sweetheart that I’m very proud of you, don’t you?” She was arranging the canisters and tubes of ointment in to something a little tidier. “I think you’ve dealt with your problem very well and I’m sure Avril, and the company, are very appreciative for all you’ve done.”

Avril, yes Avril, I needed mum to check out that I wasn’t part of some huge plot, and that there wasn’t other’s my age wearing nappies and...

Actually, when I thought about it, did I want to be the only one?

#

Mum said she’d check with the pharmacist to see just how big this ‘survey’ was and how many in our area were involved. So that took care of that matter but Bruce certainly wasn’t happy about being kept out of my room come night time and barked and then whimpered when he saw the door closed to him. I felt awful because since he’d been a puppy, he’d more or less spent most nights in my room keeping each other company.

However, come the morning and the incredible revelation – I had still my thick wet padding. Perhaps oddly I was glad, I didn’t want to make Bruce the scapegoat (scapedog) for my willy dribbling but the doctor had said to make sure I kept him out all the time and not just as a one off. Sorry Bruce, but you’ll have to stay in your basket downstairs for a little longer to test the doc’s theory.

I’d fallen asleep sucking on one of the dummies and which had produced the most amazing and colourful dreams – it was a mix of Disney’s Fantasia, Yellow Submarine, Minions and UP – all movies that I’d seen over the years though not recently. The dream was full of action and fun with an amazing soundtrack but with none of the music I recognised.  The main thing I remember from it was that everyone I met was a little kid; in fact, more like toddlers wearing thick nappies and to whom all these amazing, weird and wonderful childish adventures were happening. I think I might have even woken up giggling behind my dummy. My pillow was soaked with all the drool that had dripped from my mouth so I was wet both top and bottom... so to speak. However, I was euphoric because it had been such an exciting experience and wanted to get back to it.

It would appear that I didn’t mind being a toddler with a group of other toddlers. In fact, the nappies, plastic pants and onesies were getting more and more juvenile and I wasn’t in the least bit concerned. I liked all the colours and cartoon animals. I was one very content sixteen-year-old... baby?

#

“What on earth are you so excited about?” Mum was standing at my bedroom door looking in as I was out of bed and doing pirouettes around the room and giggling.

The fact that my nappy was soaked and limp behind the plastic pants had hardly registered now I was up and continued having the fun that started in my dreams.

“Murrmmy... erm... mum,” I spat the dummy out and corrected myself, “I’ve had the most amazing dream.” I came to a spinning stop right in front of her and gave her a huge morning hug.

“And a good morning to you sweetheart,” she said patting my flabby nappy. “Bruce can’t take responsibility for this now, can he?”

I felt her pull the back of my nappy to check I’d not done more than just wet myself but she seemed happy as the elastic on my plastic pants ‘twanged’ back with a little slap.

“Well dear... I think...”

But before she could continue, I broke the hug; said I was hungry and headed downstairs to the kitchen for some breakfast. It didn’t concern me in the least that I was wearing such an obviously soaked nappy because mummy, erm, mum had checked and all was well.

We were all sitting at the table enjoying our different breakfasts; mum and dad were having coffee and toast and I was having a bowl of Shreddies. I’d been telling daddy, erm, dad about my dream and how wonderful it was when I stopped talking, stood up and, according to him, looked very serious and intense and then, inexplicably dumped a load into my already super-soggy nappy. He said he couldn’t believe what he was seeing because once I’d finished, I sat down and took up the conversation where I left off as if it was nothing unusual.

“WHOA” dad exclaimed.

They both looked at me in disbelief for a moment before mum grabbed my hand and dragged me back upstairs to the bathroom.

“Oh dear... oh dear... oh dear,” I heard her mumbling under her breath but it was only halfway up when I realised, I had a very full and sloppy nappy because it rubbed against my bum as we climbed the last few stairs.

She held me at arm’s length just looking into my eyes as if trying to fathom what was going on with me. I had nothing to say except I was suddenly aware, extremely embarrassed and could feel the weight of the nappy. However, I was only feeling embarrassed because of the way mum was looking at me not because of what I’d done. Well, erm, at least I think that’s what I thought.

Meanwhile, mum took charge and was busy pulling down the plastic pants and unfastening the messy fabric, turning on the shower and pushing me under the spray. It all seemed to be one continuous movement but once under the warm spray I felt myself tear up and I began to sob uncontrollably.

What had I just done? I’d never felt so stupid or childish or in need of mummy to comfort me.

#

I stood under that warm plume of water for ages, mystified, not really being able to grasp what had happened. The thing was, I hadn’t felt like this when I did the same thing in the woods, I suppose that was because I knew I was doing it then but this... THIS... this I hadn’t realised until dad commented and mum grabbed my hand... so it was different.

What the HELL!

In my dream, all the children wore nappies and used them without a second thought. Parents were there to help out, becoming just as involved in the joyful parade as we children were. As I tried to make sense of this dream—which didn’t seem logical but was enjoyable—I carried that happy feeling with me to the breakfast table, where I was suddenly surprised by what I'd inadvertently done.

Eventually, the shower ran cold and the jolt made me take stock. As I dried myself and returned to my bedroom, I felt more like my age than the silly little shitter I’d been just moments before. Mum was waiting.

“Okay love,” she said as I eyed her suspiciously waiting to be interrogated, “that seemed unexpected.”

I shrugged because I didn’t want to confirm that it had happened before... on purpose... even if I thought it was funny because of Bruce... hell... I can’t blame the dog for crapping in my nappy in the woods. However, this was different but didn’t know why I had no control. I just didn’t know how to explain what felt so natural when it so obviously wasn’t.

“Have you eaten something that might have gone off?”

“Not that I know... but I’ve only eaten what you’ve given me.”

“Oh well, as we’ve all eaten the same so doubt it’s that.” She invited me to sit by her.

I was still drying myself but sat next to her on my bed... it crinkled under the plastic protection the mattress had over it. My dummy was on the bedside table and at that moment could really have done with it to calm me down but I held back.

“You’ve really gotten into wearing all this stuff now, haven’t you?” She was looking around at the piles of nappies and equipment on just about every surface.

“Well mummy, hmmm, mum, you’ve encouraged me to wear it all, enjoy it and report the results.” I smiled but not very convincingly. “I’m not sure my dribbling willy is getting any better during the day and certainly at night I need the full protection that these nappies can give so... I’m pretty keen to keep them as I wet a lot.”

Mum just offered a thoughtful “Hmmmm”.

I’m sixteen and was defending my right to wear a nappy but because of what I’d just delivered in my messy nappy there was a frightening prospect I might lose them. I could feel my features change and mum caught the fear in my eyes.

“Yes, yes, of course love,” she patted my arm to console my rising anxiety, “and most mornings we’re grateful for them.”

I nodded but felt my heart rate increase and breathing change...

“I was just wondering if you’d maybe become a little too reliant on them and forgotten you can use the toilet?”

I felt a cold shiver run throughout my body because I knew I was reliant on them... and I liked and wanted that reliance. I felt like if I lost them then I wasn’t worth anything. My existence orbited around all the lovely, comforting things with which mum and Avril had provided for me. I needed them and the comfort and security they offered.

“Please mummy, please don’t take them away,” I begged and held tightly onto her with my head buried in her bosom.

“Oh sweetheart, no one is thinking of taking anything away...” that reassuring pat on my naked arm helping a little. “But” she pulled me slightly away, “I have an all-but-naked son who needs a change so how about I help him into a nice fresh nappy, eh?”

I nodded; grateful that mummy, erm, mum was still okay with everything and watched as she gathered the lotions, powders and a fresh fabric nappy from the pile on my dresser.

Once my towel was removed it only took her moments to have me well-nappied and waddling gratefully. “How about some lovely vinyl pants... any preference?”

She held up a pair of blue ones with little baby rabbits all over them... I loved my mummy.

#

Things were changing in the way John was reacting to his situation. I know I’d encouraged him to wear all this stuff and to be keen on reviewing each item but when I met up with Avril, once again I was concerned about the way the drastic new developments were going.

I explained to her the latest sequence of events and told her how childish my sixteen-year-old son was becoming and of course asked the most basic question – should I be worried?

She asked for more details and I told her as much as I knew, she also confirmed that there were others involved in the survey (it was nationwide) with ages ranging from three to twenty. But she said, probably to bolster my ego, John and I were providing the best feedback and as such it was greatly appreciated by the various companies, which was why they were happy to supply all the new and different products.

“But should I be worried about John’s sort of ‘regression’?”  I spoke low and seriously to Avril, I needed answers.

The problem I had was this conversation was taking place in the pharmacy and customers were coming and going all the time. Our ‘chat’ was in-between these ‘interruptions’ but I wanted to keep it looking like we were simply having a social exchange rather than the intense one we were actually having.

When there was a lull in customer activity, she looked at me seriously and said, “Look, I’m going to let you into a little confidence regarding someone else who is taking part in the survey.”

This was a first as she’d never really spoken about ‘others’ before and this sounded like she was involving me in an intimacy she shared with no one else.

Once she saw my interest, she spoke low and very quietly about ‘Sarah’. ‘Sarah’ wasn’t her real name (for obvious reasons, confidentiality for one thing) and she was just slightly older than my son.

Since ‘Sarah’ got her period when she was twelve her attitude towards her family changed. Whereas once she’d been a lovely agreeable little girl she turned into an absolute monster. She argued nonstop with everyone and her school grades dipped so low her parents wanted to get her special teachers. However, the girl threw tantrum after tantrum so in the end she was just left to her own devises.

As she got older, she, like John, developed a urinary problem which meant she wet the bed every night. She would have no dealings with wearing what her mother suggested, a nappy, to at least keep her bed dry and ended up stinking her bedroom out. However, as her friends stopped coming round and her mattress became a horrible mass, she eventually (thanks to advice and persuasion from Avril herself) managed to get her to wear special disposables aimed at teenagers (and crucially, not babies, which was the main thrust of her argument not to wear them in the first place).

The effect was immediate.

‘Sarah’ settled down, became less angry, more compliant and, more importantly, kept her wetness contained in a nappy and behind a pair of robust vinyl pants. Things improved and eventually her parents were able to have a proper discussion with their errant daughter.

“Like I think it might be with your son,” Avril touched my hand in reassurance, “they found that ‘Sarah’ was full of anxiety. She found the prospect of growing up scary and didn’t want things to change. For years she hadn’t been able to put into words exactly how she felt and as things got worse it became harder and harder to voice anything but anger.”

I nodded because this seemed like something I could identify with even if it wasn’t John’s problem exactly; he was full of anxiety because the doctor had said as much but a more amiable boy would be hard to find AND he certainly wasn’t having a period. In fact, if anything, over the last few days he’d become even more loving and seemed to enjoy our little intimacies when he needed a change.

“It was the nappies!” Avril smiled at this announcement. “She remembered how wonderful it had been when she was a toddler and mummy used to love and change her and that was where her mind returned and why now, since she’d been convinced to wear them, she didn’t want to lose their comfort and security.”

I remembered John saying he was scared I was going to take them away even though I’d not even thought about doing such a thing.

“She’s such a happy girl now. I supply her with similar things that John receives... although she loves everything pink and girlie,” she giggled at her own observation (I suppose thinking John wouldn’t want any of his items to be that colour. Although in truth I don’t think it would worry him) so now the family have a daughter who’s in bed by eight and happy to snuggle down in her thick anxiety-alleviating padding.”  

She paused for all that to sink in.

“She loves being a little girl again. She loves her nappies and frilly plastic pants and the rediscovered love she thought her parents didn’t offer because she was getting older.” Then as if adding an aside, “Her parents seem happy to have their nice little girl back, maybe it’s because they get the TV to themselves once she’s in bed.” Avril smirked at her own joke.

I wasn’t sure if this addressed any of my concerns but at least I now saw that John wasn’t alone in his anxiety fight and that others (possibly thousands) had found a similar way to combat it. In the past Avril had said teenage angst was a growing area of concern (what with social and media demands on them) and that bed-wetting was on the rise so maybe something as simple as wearing a nappy was, if not the answer, certainly some kind of support mechanism. I mean, the doctor John saw hadn’t thought him wearing protection was a bad idea. So, perhaps it was the very thing, like the pharmacist said, that eased the mind and took a person back to less anxiety-filled times and should therefore be applauded for the work they do.

Maybe they should be on prescription for everyone who’s under stress?

“You know Susan,” Avril added, “I’ve found that once a person has established a sort of relationship with their chosen course of action, whether it be for wetting the bed or simply dealing with any other stressful conditions, they may well look to extend that contentment in other ways.” She tilted her head knowingly. “Some find that delving back and remembering how things used to be, especially if their parents had given them a wonderful childhood, that is a place to return to when things get a little too much.”

She paused for me to think for a moment.

“I’m sure you and your husband have provided John with nothing but happy memories so, is it any wonder that he might find it a lovely place to retreat to from time to time?”

Of course, now I was thinking of the type of childhood we had given him and I’d like to think it was as near perfect as we could manage. Avril was more or less saying that because we’d been such good parents that it was no wonder, he might want to return to his childhood when under stress and that was a good thing.

“In John’s case,” she had more to say, “and with several other young people involved in this most recent of surveys, nappies have been just the catalyst for their basic needs but sometimes, just sometimes, there’s a desire to go deeper. Maybe that’s what John is doing now. I wouldn’t worry it might be just the exploration he needs.”

This seemed madness and yet the pharmacist had tried to see it as the next logical step, an obvious progression... to regression. Seeing my son, my sixteen-year-old son, wearing a wet nappy every morning had become common place. I wasn’t worried about it because he didn’t seem worried by it though surprisingly did seem to enjoy wearing all the stuff. And now, with the dummy added, he just looked like he had when a two-year-old. It was difficult not to sneakily enjoy such sights and the delightful memories they brought back.

I still wasn’t sure if she’d explained or dealt with any of my queries but she’d given me quite a lot to think about. The idea that my son might be exploring something, but that only he knows what, I found a bit troubling. Nevertheless, Avril had said not to worry, the doctor had seemed not to be overly concerned and was sure getting the dog out of John’s room would help. I’m certainly not qualified to administer advice on my son’s bedwetting other than to offer support to whatever it is he needs. So, that’s what I’ll do.

# tbc #

Part 6

Terry came round unannounced and dad, as he would normally do, had told him I was in my room and to just come on up. I was lying out on my bed, fastening a pair of slinky red plastic pants over a lovely fresh thick fleecy nappy when he arrived.

“Bloody hell mate!” He looked stunned as he took in my circumstances and then looked around at the piles of gear that covered just about every surface.

“Oh, hi Terry,” I beamed, “just getting ready for the day. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

“ERMMMM...” It was a long noise as shock seemed to take hold. “What the fu...?”

I continued to fasten the silver press-studs down each side of the plastic and then smoothed them out.

From my POV it is difficult to think that I liked plastic pants.

It was even more weird that I now rely on them to maintain the security I need when wearing a nappy.

I never thought I’d appreciate that something like a nappy cover could look or feel so fantastic.

Those silver studs down the side make the material stand out and no matter what colour plastic... the items ‘pop’ with those eight silver poppers.

They look almost military and I can imagine that if soldiers wore plastic pants, these are the ones they would wear.

I’d joked in my review.

“These are nice aren’t they?” I asked him but he was now lifting the pile of fabric nappies nearest to him and didn’t seem to believe what he was seeing.

I looked at him wondering why he was so surprised, after all, I’d told him about my need for such stuff already so didn’t quite understand why he was reacting the way he was.

“I told you I needed to wear a nappy because of my constant leaking...”

“Yer, yer, but you never said...” He seemed even more lost for words as he held up a pair of lovely baby blue vinyl pants with little rabbits all over them.

“They’re my favourites,” I smiled, “well amongst quite a few others.”

He checked out the tubes of lotion, canisters of powder and looked disdainfully at my selection of ducky pins and colourful dummies before fingering his way through a pile of colourful (if childish) disposables.

“Oh Johnny, Johnny, Johnny... whatever happened to you?” He was holding a fleecy nappy in his hand as he shook his head still in disbelief.

“Nothing,” I proudly told him. “This is what I need to keep me from dripping everywhere...”

“But what are you anxious about now the exams are over?”

I could see he didn’t understand but there again, nor did I, because the truth was, although my anxiety over the exams was real, I had no idea why it had gotten worse and I was still leaking in my pants (well nappy).

“But didn’t the doctor give you some pills or something to, you know, sort it out?” Terry still seemed sceptical about the entire scene.

“No, he just banished Bruce from my bedroom for some reason but I still wet... mind you it has only been a couple of days... erm... nights.”

“But all this,” his eyes wide and unconvinced, “isn’t it a bit much?” He paused again before getting his second wind. “I mean for fucksake... this is... fucking ridiculous.” He just couldn’t comprehend the amount of stuff I now had. I thought it was all needed, I think he thought I’d returned to being a baby.

“Well,” I saw he wanted more of an explanation, “since I started needing nappies to sleep in, I’ve also been doing reviews of the products that a company keep sending me. Apparently, my reviews are making a difference to others who have anxiety issues...”

“Well, I have anxiety issues but I’d never wear a bloody nappy to take care of it.” He seemed resolute in that opinion but didn’t latch on to the fact that I’m reviewing these products.

“Yes, well, I had the same thoughts until my bed-wetting got so bad and I needed help. That help came when I started wearing protection...”

 “Christ John,” Terry interrupted, “you’ve more stuff here than my baby cousin... even his baby pants aren’t as childish as these.” He held up another rather cartoony pair of my other favourite vinyl pants. “What have your mum and dad reduced you to... a fucking little baby?”

I didn’t like the fact he was calling out mum and dad, or that he was dismissing the things I required to keep my wetting in check.

“I’M NOT A BABY,” I screamed like a little kid would, “You’re not being fair I need this stuff because it helps me.” I sulked, again, just like a little kid.

“I’m sure no one needs all this but they are having an effect. You’re acting like a two-year-old.” There was more than a little bit of an accusation in his voice.

I wasn’t ready for him to have a go and it hurt that he seemed so definite about something he knew nothing about. He’s my best friend, I shared this with him, why was he being nasty? I was holding back tears because I thought he’d understand but...

“Well, I don’t think I am... so there.” I pouted in my defence.

The anxiety suddenly rocketed and I could feel pee spurting into the front of my newly applied protection. “You’re not being nice.” I whimpered under his look of superiority. “It’s not my fault that my bladder leaks so much these days.” I could hear the childish tone to my voice but I couldn’t stop myself.

“Maybe not but all this you have to admit...” again Terry’s eyes scanned the mounds of stuff that the pharmacist and company had sent, “is a little too childish for someone our age.”

He saw me inadvertently rub the front of my plastic pants.

“Have you just wet yourself?” I wasn’t sure if he was accusing me or if he was guessing but I could feel my dick surrounded by warmth so couldn’t deny it. I nodded.

“Oh Johnny, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to have a go it’s just, well, it’s all a bit of a shock.” He came over to be near me looking guilty because I was upset.

That was the Terry I knew... the one who was a true friend and, despite having fun at my expense, understood.

“It’s okay, I s’pose, now I need all this stuff it doesn’t bother me.” I rubbed my bulging slippery pants. “I’m afraid you, you know, having a go upset me a bit and I peed.”

He looked on not really sure what to say.

“This is what it’s been like - I get nervous or upset or anxious and, you know, before I know it, I have wet pants. I can’t explain it. I can’t stop it. I can’t do anything except put up with it, sorry.”

Although that might have been true at the beginning, I didn’t tell him that now I wear a nappy I don’t even think about it, I just let go. Although mostly I don’t know I’m doing so... sometimes I do.

“No, it’s me who should be sorry, I just wasn’t prepared for all this or how it affects you so, um, yes, um, I’m sorry too.” Terry looked slightly ashamed but still wasn’t sure what all the trappings were about.

I tried to tell him the upside of all this. “You see all this stuff?” I said leaping up and like a kid with a new toy proudly showing him all the different things I had, “The people who supply it want me to comment on what it’s like to wear, you know, the pluses, the drawbacks, that type of thing...” I saw he was looking back at me still not quite comprehending any of it. Mind you, I was still only wearing a thick (and wet) fabric nappy and my super plastic pants. “Well, they tell me my comments and reviews are being seen by others, like me, who have a leak or anxiety problems. Because Terry, you may not believe it, but I’m not the only person our age who needs to wear a nappy.”

I could see again that he wasn’t sure or whether he actually believed me but I continued. I held up a particularly fluffy fabric nappy.

“Take this for instance,” He visibly shrunk away. “Not so long since I would have screamed blue murder if anyone had suggested I wear something like this,” I held it against my cheek and rubbed it gently against my skin, “but now I simply can’t get enough of the lovely softness...”

“Softness?” He queried suspiciously, obviously wondering what medication I was on.

“Yes, feel.” I held it out for his inspection and eventually, tentatively, he reached out and touched it.

“Hmmm,” was his only comment and could see he wasn’t convinced.

“Look, I wet mainly at night so to keep the bed dry and any pee contained I wear one and a pair of these plastic pants.”

“Like my baby cousin,” he chuckled. I wasn’t sure if he was beginning to understand but I also knew I was still acting like an eager little kid showing off his Christmas presents.

“Well, maybe but, they’re so comfortable that I fall asleep easily and don’t have the worry of waking up to a soaked bed, which isn’t nice for me, or the pile of laundry I’d be making for mum.”

He sort of shrugged, which I saw as a good thing, at least he wasn’t bolting for the door. He was listening to what I was saying and cautiously inspecting other clothes that I wore like the footed sleeper and the various colourful onesies.

“Now, as I’ve had this problem a while, mum (I didn’t mention the pharmacist at the time) enrolled me in a programme so we get this stuff cheaper and all I have to do is give my opinion on it. They love the fact that they have real people commenting and offering suggestions... and it’s not just some focus group.”

“Really, so what about these?” He held up a teddy bear and one of my dummies, which he quickly tossed back down onto the dresser as if he might catch something.

“Well, the teddy was just a promotional thing but he’s so sweet and lovely to cuddle.”

“Lovely to cuddle... hell John... do you hear yourself?” He looked sorry for me but his eyes landed on one of my new onesies and shrugged.

“The company liked my earlier comments and before I knew it, they were asking me what I thought about everything they were developing for the incontinent teen”.

“Bloody hell! They’re making kiddie stuff for teenagers. I mean, for fuck’s sake what the hell do onesies or, or those...” he noticed one of my fuzzy footed sleepers, “have to do with teenage incontinence?”

He had me there but I just smiled as if it wasn’t an issue. “They’re producing a brand with all sorts of clothing for... well... you know...”

But he didn’t.

I picked up one of the dummies. “These are exceptional, they relieve any concerns and on top of that... they taste fantastic.” I popped one in.

“Oh, bloody hell mate... you’ve got to be bloody joking.”

“Actwerly, ith takth abay uny anthieth...” I spoke around the plastic soother.

“WHAT!”

I didn’t bother replying I just offered him a different one to suck.

“Not on your...” he shook his head and backed away.

“Swerdy-cath, swerdy-cath...”

“For fuck sake John, stop acting like a little kid... and I’m not a scaredy-cat but I ain’t sucking on nothing.”

“Swerdy-cath, swerdy-cath...” I whispered and cajoled trying to annoy him whilst I kept the offered new dummy in the palm of my hand.

I could see him struggling with wanting to be my friend and finding this entire situation too bizarre to contend with. It was a strange feeling because, whilst we’re the same age, at that moment I felt he was a lot older than me and I shouldn’t be aggravating this grown up.

Also, my nappy was soaked and I could feel the weight making my plastic pants sag but I still maintained the offer.

“I’m not taking that, so forget it.” He insisted but didn’t leave the room.

I removed my soother and a large dribble of spit hung from my mouth to it.

“I have to tell you Terry, these taste fantastic... this one,” I held up the one I’d been sucking, “tastes of apple. This one,” the one I was offering to him, “tastes like pineapple but I guess, if you’re too afraid to try it... you’ll never know.”

Now I know this seemed like a juvenile approach to getting my friend to at least try the thing, and guys our age wouldn’t normally be so easily coaxed to even attempting it but Terry is my friend and suppose thought he should see for himself.

“Okay, I’ll give it a lick,” he took it from my hand and tentatively rubbed it against his lips.

“Give it a good suck,” I encouraged, “and you’ll taste the flavour after a few...” he licked at it suspiciously but then popped it in, “Yes that’s it, a few deep sucks.”

I watched him try and to begin with it brought a grimace, but then the pale-yellow plastic dummy shield in the middle of his face began oscillating under his nursing technique. I kept encouraging him to suck harder and eventually the frown lessened and the sucking became a lot smoother. He settled into a steady rhythm and came and sat down next to me on the bed. Without saying anything else we soon synchronised or slurping and lay out side-by-side to enjoy the relaxation our FruitiZuckers were offering.

No wonder babies are always sucking on their dummies. It felt terrific.

#

I’m not sure how long we lay there as we both seemed to drift off into our own little realm. I lay there and quite unashamedly stroked the front of my slippery plastic covered bulging padding and enjoyed the sensation that resulted. At one point Terry just watched what I was doing and smiled, then from behind his sucking nodded and spoke.

“A sha’pose ay thuit oo,” and joined in by gently sliding his hand over the warm plastic surface. “Shat’s niche n scmoove.”

Both of us had no inhibitions and were enjoying the moment, his hand lingered.

I loved the attention but soon he was back to eyes closed and sucking, also I could tell he was appreciating whatever it was he was thinking about. He had a sort of smile behind his dummy and like me was giggling and wriggling around. I half expected him to rip off his clothes and join me wearing a nappy but instead, he cuddled in closer and manoeuvred my position so that we were spooning.

I could hear the soft slurping of his pineapple binkie in my ear as he slowly jiggled himself against my plastic-coated protection. It felt both weird and wonderful at the same time but I have to confess, my head was elsewhere and I returned to the dream-world I’d been in before, where cartoon toddlers like me were joyously playing with other cartoon creatures. What was really quite bizarre - it was my plastic pants I could see on the dresser that ‘came to life’ and began to take over the room, which then engulfed me and Terry and a host of other friends and strangers in play.

I think we must have both dropped off because the next thing to happen mum was shaking us awake. She appeared surprised that we both had dummies in our mouths and that I was wearing an obviously soaked nappy.

“Erm, just letting Terry know about these dummies and how great they taste... not sure they’re for him though.” As I saw him awkwardly pull it from between his lips... although he still had an embarrassed smile on his face.

Mum just said that there were more friends at the door wondering where we’d got to as Terry had earlier agreed to meet them over an hour ago. We shook ourselves awake, Terry pocketed his FruitiZucker and I found a pair of loose shorts to pull over my nappy. We were zipped up and ready in moments as we joined the guys waiting in the hall way.

#

As we walked and talked there was no getting away from the fact that both Terry and I were not really aware of what was going on. Of course, we recognised our mates and smiled and added the occasional word but our heads were still back in the bedroom. I mean, I was hardly hiding my padding (soaked padding at that) under my shorts but that fact didn’t seem to bother me much.

Terry kept patting my padded bum and chuckling as if he was in on a terrific joke. I could see his hand in his pocket and I assumed, like me, he was keeping his fingers wrapped around the FruitiZucker in case it was needed in a hurry. In fact, I think he was missing its relaxing properties... it really made you feel pleasantly carefree when in situ.

When one of the guys from our little group asked if I was wearing a nappy, I happily pulled down my shorts to reveal the full bulk and explained, whilst giggling to myself, that the slinky red pants were the latest design from Armani, which set Terry off snickering as well.

“What the fuck’s going on between you two,” Gary, who by a month is the eldest of our team, looked astonished at my revelation. “Is this some kind of game... or dare?”

“No, sorry Gary, not the case.” I was still smiling and had my arm around Terry who was chuckling about something though I wasn’t sure what, “I have become quite inconitent, erm, incompit, huuummm, I piss myself... so... have to wear all this to stop from leaking all over the place.”

“Fucking hell,” the lad’s chorused, picking up on the fact that my shiny plastic pants had little bright silver poppers running down the side. “He’s wearing a fucking nappy like a fucking toddler!” The voices were of disbelief, horror and the need to get away from that person - in case what was wrong with him was contagious or something.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, our little group dispersed, well, the lads left me and Terry and mumbled various comments about weird, babyish and complete twats (amongst other more memorable, if less flattering, terms).

“You need your nappy changing.” Terry observed now he could see the wet bulk dragging down my plastic protection.

“Are you going to do it?” I cheekily asked.

“Fuck off ya dozy twat...” and clapped me encouragingly on my padded seat, where his hand dawdled a little longer than perhaps it should, as we made our way home.

#

All the way back there was a stirring in the soaked material as Terry and I chatted about some TV programme we’d been watching. I could hardly concentrate on what we were talking about as my cock became quite uncomfortable caught up in the soggy padding and I was desperate to whip the thing off and give my stiffening dick some freedom. I was slightly disappointed when Terry said his goodbyes and left me at my door whilst he went off home. I popped in my soother and got the apple hit straight away and immediately felt better.

Still, I was having feelings that I wasn’t sure I should be having although the strange thing was, I also felt like I was a little kid and just wanted to play. I would have liked my best mate to come up to my room and for us to have some fun on computer games like we used to when we were ten. Sitting on the floor after school or at weekends, side-by-side and nudging each other as we attained another level. Then, those older, easier games were exciting, I wasn’t sure why I suddenly craved a return to those times.

In recent years I’d got my entertainment from ‘shoot ‘em up’ video games, which I enjoyed playing both alone and online with mates. However, I suddenly got it into my head to try and search for my older games, the ones I played with as a kid – Lego, Hot Wheels, my Dinky Toys and dinosaur collection. For some reason they held more appeal so asked mum where they all were. She said they might be some things still in the attic but most had been given away to my younger cousins or thrown out. I was almost in tears at the thought that I’d not be able to find anything.

Up in the attic, which I hadn’t been into for ages, I was surprised to find it such a treasure trove of stuff mum and dad had kept. Cases and boxes, some labelled, filled with clothes, vinyl albums by bands long gone, photo albums, magazines, books and an eventual box with John’s Stuff written in thick green felt-tip pen. It was taped shut, so hadn’t been examined in the recent past, but wondered just what items had been kept on my behalf because I had no idea of its existence until that moment.

I gingerly opened it and the first things I noticed were a selection of my stuffed toy animals, some I’d forgotten all about until this revelation when their presence in my childish life came flooding back. I held each one and cuddled it, thinking – how could I have thrown you out? – but that wasn’t all. Mum had kept a load of my baby clothes and paraphernalia (which I suppose all mothers do) and some of my drawings from when a toddler. There was also some of my school reports from when I’d just started and loads and loads of toys I thought had long gone; some, like the Dinky toy cars I inherited from dad. As a kid he’d been an avid collector and, I don’t know why, he had kept them from his childhood for me to appreciate, which I had done. Thankfully, my Lego was still in the box, as were my collection of dinosaurs. It was funny, once as a kid I’d be able to name all the dinos (even if I couldn’t spell them) but now I only knew a couple of their actual scientific names.

I heard mum calling so I wandered back downstairs. “I thought we’d lost you... you’ve been up there so long.”

“Really,” I countered, “It’s only been a few minutes...” I argued because that’s what it had felt like.

“Three hours.” Mum was definite as she tapped her watch to emphasise, I was wrong and that my tea was on the table. She was right because I’d gone up early afternoon and it was now around 5pm. Where does time fly when you’re off exploring?

However, she looked surprised.

#

“Barney... I haven’t seen him in quite a while.” She smiled at my sudden embarrassment because I hadn’t realised, I was still hugging one of my toddler favourites, Barney the Bunny.

“Erm, yer, ummm,” I couldn’t pretend I wasn’t hugging him so I made more of it and hugged him even tighter as if I was proving a point to mum. “I’d forgotten how soft and floppy he was... he was made to just cuddle don’t you think?” and offered him for her to feel.

She was chuckling as she turned to get something off the stove, “I believe you... now... how about some fish fingers?”

Oddly perhaps but that had been one of my favourite meals since I was little and even now still got very happy when mum served it up. A pile of chips, a few garden peas and six cod fish fingers... an absolute treat.

Whilst mum busied herself with the washing machine I took in this gloriously colourful display and dribbled on the finishing touch... a few artistic blobs of Heinz tomato ketchup to dip everything in.

It felt weird, like I’d been transported back to the very first time I’d had this particular treat. I was three at the time and mum had cut up a couple of fish fingers and the chips, scattered a few peas around and presented them in my Disney bowl. I had no idea what it was but, using my fingers, eagerly shovelled them in my mouth and was instantly hooked. Food had never tasted so good and I wanted them all the time, sometimes even throwing a little paddy if I didn’t get my own way; mum very rarely gave way to my temper tantrums so the tasty treat was just that, an occasional treat.

Now, here I was, cutting up my meal into small bitesize pieces, with my favourite childhood stuffed animal chum and using my fingers to offer it to him as I’d done as a toddler. For that moment I was back there in time and was excited by it all. Then mum returned and saw her looking at me in a suspicious way and I instantly stopped what I was doing. However, a guilty shiver had run through my body and a rush of nervous pee spurted into my already well-soaked padding.

“What on Earth are you doing?” She asked with a worried look on her face.

“Ermmm, just having fun.” I tentatively replied. “Thought he might like something to eat seeing as he’s been in the attic all this time.”

I saw mum’s eyebrows arch and shrug as if ‘I should have known’... thankfully the worried look disappeared. Perhaps that was a good enough excuse. However, for a brief moment, in my head, I had been back to being that three-year-old... and at sixteen I had a sopping wet nappy to prove it.

#

I sat there finishing my meal, mum opposite with a piece of ‘crustless quiche’ as she was on a bit of a diet, dad not back as he was working late and I could feel the warmth of my wet nappy pooling around my crotch.

“What are you planning to do with Barney?” Mum asked.

“Well, I thought I’d bring the box down and go through everything... there were some toys in there I hadn’t seen for ages and perhaps wouldn’t mind one last play before... you know... I’m too old.”

“I thought you were too old now, that’s why it’s all boxed up and in the attic.”

“Yer, but, well, poor Barney here looks happier here with us than being hidden away in the attic. Poor guy has feelings you know.”

Mum chuckled, “Well in that case...” and left it at that. So, I now had permission to bring the box down and have a damned good rummage around.

#

It was weird, I’d been wearing the soggy nappy now for the best part of the day and it hadn’t bothered me. In fact, I’d felt the thickness, the dampness and the material bunching up but the plastic pants seemed to keep it (and me) all under some sort of control. I don’t know if I just wasn’t bothered or was waiting for an ‘adult’ to make the decision for me! However, before I went back up to the attic, I thought it was probably time for a change and returned to my room and intentionally sought out the nappies and pants that Terry had been inspecting.

Once they’d been collected, I went to the bathroom, shrugged off the soggy nappy and put it in the ever-popular bin, gave myself a really good service wipe down, lotion and powder before delighting in slipping the thick fleecy material Terry had touched under my bum. I don’t know if I’d adopted a special regime to the way I prepared my nappy but this procedure became something special. It felt glorious to be wrapped in the soft fluffy fabric whilst thinking of my best mate. Then I wriggled in contentment as I grabbed the plastic pants with the teddies all over them and slowly pulled them up my thighs and over the thick material. As I ran my hands over the glossy bulkiness, I had to admit the entire process was rather fantastic.

Things developed. So, took some time to sort that out before I ventured back up into the attic and retrieve what I hoped would be a box of interesting stuff to keep me occupied in a different way.

# tbc #

 

 

Part 7

It’s a bit bizarre that I’ve known Terry for years, we’ve been best mates for most of that time and yet only now do I see him in a different light. I mean I’ve always liked him but, well, something has changed and I’d love for him to join me wearing some of these things I find comforting. I know he thinks they’re all a bit babyish but if only he understood just how wonderful they feel on; I desperately want to share that experience with him. We were once toddlers together - so why not again now? 

Anyway, I’m sat on the floor in my room, naked apart from the nappy and colourful pants, the contents of the box scattered about and I’m loving all the toys and stuffies that surround me. I’d completely forgotten how amazing it was, sorry, is to run a toy car over my own body or make noises as I shuffle along on my knees to race a couple of them. The fun and intensity of sticking a few Lego bricks together at the start of some imaginative building design or simply disappearing back into a world of dinosaurs for no better reason than you can... it is fantastic... especially as I suck on my amazing fruity binkie. Now I was immersed in this world I couldn’t figure out how or why I spent so much time in front of the screen killing aliens.

Later, mum knocked on the door and popped her head round. “Ah, there you are... thought you might have got lost in the attic... errr... what’s all this?” She entered my room and took in the mess of all my scattered old toys.

I was sucking on my FruitiZucker and happily pushing some of my Dinky toy cars through the legs of a giant Stegosaurus.

“Mum, ishn’t ish gwate... awl my ol’ shtuff ish awl pwitty coo...” I smiled around my dummy while I continued brum-bruming as I manoeuvred a Dinky American classic Chevrolet into a garage I’d built out of Lego.

“Sweetheart,” there was a slight grimace on her face, not sure she understood a word I’d said, “you’ve forgotten to take Bruce for his evening walk... dad’s had to take him.”

#

I stood and watched for a while, his plastic clad bottom shuffling over the carpet as he pushed his toys around, he seemed so detached from reality but chirpy enough. Seeing him with a dummy, although that wasn’t new I was surprised that he was happy to suck on it so much. Still, Avril had said that the company had also been surprised at how comforting youngsters (and teens) had found them and many had readily taken to using one in moments when a little calmness might be useful. However, he’d been up here, in his room, on his own since teatime so I was a bit worried that... well... I’m not sure...

School was over for the year and I expected him to try and find a part time job or something to keep him occupied over the long summer break but here he was, surrounded by his childhood toys and actually looking not only content but thoroughly enthralled playing with them all.

I felt I should talk to Avril more because something just didn’t seem right. The trouble was, he seemed so happy that I didn’t want to ruin whatever it was that was making him feel good.

Avril’s data collection project had become a significant part of John’s routine, especially considering his ongoing issues with wetting. It was actually me who had first got him involved, encouraging him at every opportunity to participate fully and to comply with whatever tasks or items were sent his way. At the time, I hadn’t quite realised how far things might go, or that it could start to get out of hand.

Despite these concerns, John appeared to genuinely relish everything about the project. He delighted in the clothes provided, took pleasure in writing reviews, and found joy in all the special extras that arrived. His enthusiasm for the process was clear and persistent.

Yet, for all the enjoyment and engagement, the underlying issue remained unchanged. John continued to wet himself, and if anything, these incidents had become more frequent and sometimes more severe, with messy accidents occurring more often than before.

 But and this is the main thing, none of it is bothering him. It’s like he’s accepted that there’s something wrong with his body that makes him pee and poo, and those in the know – doctor, pharmacist and me his mother – are all in agreement that nappies are the ideal treatment for whatever it is that ails him.

For the moment I’ll park my worries, tomorrow he goes for his blood test so hopefully they’ll find something we can do to change the situation. Well at least I hope so.

“OK sweetheart, I leave you to it but it’s getting late so don’t stay up all night. Remember, you’ve got your blood test tomorrow at 9.”

“Oh hay” but was too blissfully involved in making sure a police car and fire truck didn’t crash, to be taking much notice, as in deep concentration, they careered around sharp corners on their way to an accident. His slinky padding bouncing up and down as he excitedly shoved his toys around the floor.

#

Next time I looked up and my bedside clock informed me that it was 00:23, I couldn’t believe I’d kept myself busy all that time. As I stood up, I realised for the first time my nappy was full and soaked. I was in two minds what to do but I removed the soother that had kept me company for so long and put it next to a bunch of others on the dresser. I felt it was too late to change myself in the bathroom without waking mum or dad up so simply crawled into bed – loaded nappy or not - I was too tired to care. Besides, my plastic pants should be able to hold it all in. My dreams were colourful and fun and no one cared that I wore a nappy.

I woke up to the sun streaming through my window but a nasty, pungent smell hung in the air. I couldn’t blame Bruce because he wasn’t in my room so wondered what the cause could be. I checked the clock, 6:24 but my cock and balls and bum felt quite itchy. I slipped my hand down and was greeted with a sloppy nappy and expanded plastic pants and then it dawned on me that I’d crapped myself. It was just a few seconds later that I looked around my room and noticed all my old toys scattered rather messily about and couldn’t quite comprehend what they were doing there.

I tentatively tiptoed through the debris and made my way to the bathroom to clean myself up – I was quite disgusted at the mess both my nappy and genitals were in. In places I looked red raw and hoped a really good shower and after-shower lotion would ease the rather prickly sensation I was still experiencing.

Once back in my room I felt a load better but still itched and sought something more powerful from the range of lotions and potions laid out on my cabinet top. There was a thick anti-rash cream I hoped would work and deftly spread it on and around everything in that area. My groin became a slippery white streaky mass of oily preventative cream, I just hoped I wasn’t too late in applying it. As I was doing that, I was also trying to get my head around why my bedroom was full of old toys, had mum brought them down for some reason? Anyway, as soon as she’s up I’ll ask, in the meantime, I’ll give Bruce a treat and take him for an early ‘walkies’ after I’d got myself ready.

It’s almost like I operate on automatic these days because I found a lovely thick fleecy nappy square, folded it and, because of my night time accident, added a nice extra booster pad. I’ve got quite deft at pinning myself tightly in and did like the large safety aspect of plastic duck heads on the pins. Also, and this is why I chose fabric as opposed to disposable; I love the bulk between my legs, it’s reassuring and cosy. There was a pair of plastic pants with bears on that grabbed my attention so scooted them up, whilst a pair of blue fleecy shorts and a matching sweatshirt finished off my combo. It was nice to be able to wake up Bruce for once and get his tail wagging excitedly as I opened the backdoor leading out into the garden.

I grabbed his ‘well-drooled over’ tennis ball he loved to chase and I led him on the leash for the walk to the woods then released him so he could run free and sniff every tree he came to. The weight of my protection reminded me how much I relied on wearing a nappy these days and slowly my memory of the night before returned when I realised, I was the culprit for all the mess in my room. I couldn’t quite recall the series of events that led to everything being brought down from the attic but I did remember looking at all the baby clothes and jokingly thinking I could probably still get into them. That had led me to grab a FruitiZucker and the rest was just play but I don’t remember at what exactly, just that I was having fun.

A FruitiZucker? Mmmm, I could just do with that flavourful hit so reached into my pocket but I didn’t have one on me, just the ball, which I threw for Bruce to chase. I watched as he careered after it whilst it bounced down the track before disappearing into the undergrowth. It only took Bruce a few sniffy seconds to find and retrieve it before returning and depositing it at my feet to be thrown again. We did this a few times but wasn’t sure whether Bruce or I were loving it the most. Still, whilst my dog wagged his tail, I suppose he was enjoying it, and, if I had one, I’d be wagging mine as well.

At one point, and quite unintentionally, I could feel my nappy filling up because of the warmth surrounding my crotch. At the same moment I considered just how much I’d come to rely on padding to keep me from wetting my pants. As I continued my walk through the woods, I began to take stock of why, a sixteen-year-old, should be happy and reliant on wearing a nappy like I did. I began to think about all the things I’d reviewed and was now wearing on a daily basis. Not only wearing but feeling pleased to be wearing it all, even the most juvenile of items, which I’d not given much thought to recently. I wore it because I had to review it... to me... it was as simple as that.

I stroked the bulge under my shorts and felt the bulk of the material and the smoothness of the plastic pants and although I should have been horrified, I wasn’t, it all seemed so natural... as if... whether I was six months or sixteen, a boy should be wearing a nappy if that’s what was needed. The rest, well, it was all for my benefit... mum said this on several occasions...  and now it's available... so why not use it all?

It felt weird that in just a matter of a few steps I could be both horrified about what I wore and also comforted by such items. In the end, as my nappy filled up, I was grateful for what it offered and the security my stout plastic pants gave me. Bruce was looking up at me expectantly and I realised I hadn’t thrown the ball for a while and had been deep in conversation with myself. No wonder he gave me a confused, head to one side, quizzical look that only a dog can produce.

#

It was still relatively early so, with the concern on Bruce’s face, I found a fallen tree and sat down to review these strange and conflicting feelings. Bruce took the opportunity to raise his leg and mark the log as his before wondering over and sniffing every other bush and tree in the vicinity. I may have a full nappy but I decided that, unlike last time, as he squatted down, I didn’t want to follow his example.

A squirrel ran up a tree and I heard Bruce let out a low growl as if he was annoyed, he hadn’t been able to chase it and whilst that was happening, I was still running my hand over the smooth bulge in my shorts. I was taking time to think about my situation. I was trying to rationalise things. I wasn’t sure I knew what those things were but there was certainly something lurking at the back of my mind that needed some explanation. However, as always that slinky, smooth puffed out nappy was very comforting.

This was more difficult than I thought it should be because of those conflicting and confusing feelings. I mean, I’d wet my pants and bedding - so needed help. Nappies were suggested and that seemed to make sense. Whilst I thought that the main reason for my damp mornings were the result of exam anxiety, it has since proved that is not necessarily the case because post exams and I still wet. In fact, my use and reliance on padding has increased... surely that can’t be down to the pharmacist’s involvement in my recovery?

Mum had convinced me that between her and Avril they are only thinking of my welfare and yet... I now wore a nappy all the time and perhaps strangest of all, I wanted to wear one. I’d go as far as to say I’d feel naked if I wasn’t well protected and simply use its convenience when I see fit. No guilt, no worries, no desire to change that particular situation. In my head it now all seemed to make perfect sense, especially when the dummies were added – they completely relaxed me and let my mind wander to a pleasure area I didn’t know I still had - one of playful silliness and enjoyment.

Again, my head filled with the idea that at my age all this shouldn’t be happening but then I ran my hand over the silky warm swelling under my shorts and that seemed to prove it definitely should. That was something else... I wore shorts all the time... my jeans and trousers not getting a look in these days. I justified that by insisting I found shorts easier to wear because of the volume of my nappies. Weirdly, I also found they reminded me of my childhood, which was great, and that seemed to spur on my desire to keep wearing them. The thing I also discovered was that I loved everyone and everything. I hadn’t had a bad word to say about anyone or the new clothes I reviewed and, and, I knew mummy and daddy loved me, which was lovely because I loved them.

Bruce had finished his area inspection and came over and rested his head on my knee for a ‘good boy’ rub. I was happy to offer it; there wasn’t much that he asked for but he was always at his handsomest when any of the family were showing him affection. I suddenly thought if that was similar to my own feelings – with all the attention, the clothes, the nappies, the praise for my reviews – am I reacting to all this new found appreciation?

My mind drifted to what the locum doctor had said that there were others, well maybe but then it suddenly struck what it was I couldn’t remember, the blood test at 9am.

Once again, I ran my hand over the material that pushed out my shorts and rounded my genital area with comfortable mass. This had become my normal underwear and I liked it. I took a moment because, well, it seemed ridiculous that a lad my age would think this way but most of the time I don’t even think about it and when I do, it’s because I’m wet... so...

Have I become an ‘attention seeker’?

I don’t think I am though things have changed, but, if so, why am I so at ease with the way things are now? And what if the blood test discovers something and all this changes... do I really want that?

#

I was back home by 7:30 and both mummy and daddy, erm, mum and dad (not sure where that came from) were up and having breakfast. Mum asked if I wanted anything and I said I’d be down in a few minutes after I’d changed. She nodded and dad was licked by Bruce who wanted even more head rubs – bloody attention seeker.

Back in my bedroom I checked my soggy nappy, I’d peed in it more than I thought so definitely needed to be replaced. I looked over at the pile of new FruitiZuckers that were available and although I was desperate for a nice suck I decided, that for the moment at least, I’d go without. I threw my soggy padding in the bin and, after a thorough wipe down and more lotion and powder applied, fitted myself into one of the nice new (and thick) disposables that looked pretty sweet with all the cartoon animals charging about all over it. For a brief moment it did cross my mind as to why I wasn’t putting on underpants but decided they were no different, underwear is underwear, so it didn’t matter – also I hadn’t worn briefs, boxers or trunks for quite some time. Once I’d chosen a fresh pair of clear plastic pants, I felt more comfortable wearing a nappy... even if I was sixteen.

“Mummy and Daddy?” Where, what, erm, why... but it didn’t seem inappropriate... well it did but... 

I have to admit; there were more than a few times when I didn’t feel my age. I mean, I knew I was sixteen but my age didn’t seem to matter. I loved mum and dad; I loved the fact that my constantly dribbling cock had not stopped them caring or supporting me. I s’pose, I felt guilty at the beginning of all this, causing extra laundry and worry but now, well, wearing padding seems to have sorted things out. It’s only me who’s affected by my dribbling dick, only I know when it happens and because of nappies I have it under control so all is well.

I mean, I’m possibly more affectionate than I was but I reasoned that was down to not having to worry about exams- though I’m not sure why. Most of the laundry was basically my fabric nappies drying out on the line. I often used the washer and hung them out so mum wasn’t always the one left to clean up after me. Having said that, sometimes I’d forget and the nappy hamper would get quite full and mum would then take charge.

That was something else. I hadn’t really been aware of the changes and gaps in my memory until I saw all those toys in my room. It took me a while to remember it was me who’d brought them down from the attic and that I’d spent some time playing with them all. The thing is, I’m a bit fuzzy as to any kind of timescale. I assume it’s because I enter some kind of fun or happiness zone and all else – time and teenage thoughts – disappear whilst I’m in it.

Ermmmm, now that I’m thinking it, that seems a daft idea.

#

Surprisingly, I was at the doctors for 9am and was the first in. Heather, the nurse who was on duty was all smiles and encouragement as she set out the needle and various little tubes to collect my blood. I’d also come armed with a specimen of my pee in a small plastic container, which she accepted without comment.

However, “Now then John, you’ll feel a little prick...”

I smiled at her attempt at making the situation less tense. I mean, I’ve had blood taken before but I must have looked nervous.

“No need to worry but just make a fist and this will all be over in a moment.” She prodded and tapped my arm for a few seconds before deciding on the correct vein.

I did feel a little prick but hardly, it was quick so looked down to see if she’d actually done it, only to see my blood flood into a small tube and realised that was part of me. Curiously I felt a little faint and uncomfortable, especially as a spurt of pee escaped into the nappy under my shorts. I just hoped she hadn’t noticed.

“There you go, all done, no fuss and someone will no doubt phone with the results in a few days’ time.”

She was correct. A small plaster later and I was on my way home after less than five minutes, the shortest time I’d ever been at the doctors. I was pleased to be walking home knowing I had the rest of the day to myself even if I did have a slight warm glow around my crotch.

As I’ve said often, I don’t mind wearing a nappy. I prefer them not wet but if they are... so be it. So, I began to wonder what the results of my blood test might be. They might find something so what type of cure would be needed and would I still be able to wear my nice padding.

All the way home I felt the nice cushion of my nappy keeping me comfy and hoping that the doctor wouldn’t find anything so I could continue with how things are. Then I started thinking that surely, after all this time and with exams already completed, I should be past any anxiety, which meant, I shouldn’t be wetting at all. Wouldn’t everything be better if I no longer wet? And yet, the idea of not having nappies to wear was suddenly making me anxious. Did I really want to lose them? My bladder was reacting to the worry and I began to dribble into the thick padding - I’ll have to cut down on the fresh morning orange juice.

#

I’d seen the occasional look from mum like she’s not sure, but, because she’s constantly talking with Avril, I assume that if there was anything wrong then she would have sorted it.

Back in my bedroom I looked in the mirror and tried to take stock. The damp nappy wasn’t showing under my shorts but a new one would probably feel so much better. Once out of it and having had a second wipe down of the day I searched my stack of new arrivals and slipped on a style I didn’t think I’d worn before.

WOW!

I’m appreciating this new designed disposable because it’s very, very comfy. There’s a lovely soft hug with each step and when I get down on my knees to play with one of my toy cars, crawling around felt even nicer. That supple embrace as the new ruffled cuffs and waistband rubs my tummy and inner thighs is very stimulating and makes playing with each toy that much better. I made some notes for a future review before returning to the fun of my cars.

Then Terry suddenly appeared at my bedroom door. I hadn’t heard mum or dad announce his arrival but he looked on with a huge smile on his face as he saw me deep in play. 

#

He flopped down next to me and slowly produced the FruitiZucker I’d given him before.

“These are fantastic...” he slipped it between his lips and almost dreamlike, closed his eyes and began to suck.

For a couple of minutes neither of us said anything he was somewhere else in his head and I was surprised at the change in personality of my best friend. It made me think, is it the dummy that’s changed his temperament or something else? It can’t be nappies because he hasn’t worn one but is it me...have I affected, or infected him?

He opened his eyes but continued to suck as he took in all my toys. “Vish uks ike fon” and proceeded to grab a couple of Hot Wheels and, like I’d been doing, vrooming them around the carpet on his hands and knees.

We’d been playing with various toys for a few minutes and occasionally he’d run one over my padded butt and chuckle as he did so “Ummm, dem r nice... ca a pry em on?”

I was a bit stunned as not long ago he was dead against wearing such a thing. However, I thought he was just being typically Terry and a good friend by sharing my circumstances, so, didn’t see why not. However, I’d be lying if I didn’t confess to some creeping doubts but I tried to dismiss them (whilst still enjoying playing with my toys). In spite of this, Terry, well, he was already pulling off his clothes as I pointed to the pile of new disposables on the top of my dresser.

“Choose which ones you fancy.” I offered. It took him a few ums and ahs to decide but eventually focused on one similar to what I was wearing.

“Cwan u elp ma wiv um?” He was standing naked with only a large yellow dummy being furiously sucked and held out the thick colourful disposables to help him in to.

I’d seen Terry naked on many occasions at school and over the years but this was something completely new. I knew he was a ‘big boy’ you can’t help but notice and comment when in the changing room, but seeing it like this, well, it was strange. Of course, although stunned, I was more than happy to help my best mate into a lovely thick nappy and a style I personally found the comfiest of all I had. I was in two minds as to whether to pop in my own dummy but was still quite enthralled in making sure the tapes on Terry’s thick disposable were tight and held him nicely. Perhaps oddly, I wanted him to have the same pleasurable encounter I have when nappied, even if I didn’t know why I experienced such highs.

Once on I got him to do a little spin so I could check it was not droopy or hung badly but I’d done a good job and he seemed very happy with the result. He hugged me, like he’d never done before and bumped our hips together as if we were saying ‘cheers’. He waddled over to the collection of stuffed toys and selected one.

“Wash iz shame?”  I gazed in almost disbelief. I didn’t know why but he looked fantastic wearing a nappy. His tight muscular body was so much more developed than mine but yet, he looked splendid wearing one of my more exciting disposables. I suppose it was because now we both had one on and I wasn’t on my own any longer I felt closer than ever. Whatever the reason I was pleased and told him the stuffed toy was Barney Bunny, whose long ears and super-soft fur made him really wonderful pressed next to naked skin. Terry hugged him and the sweet but weirdly sexy image was imprinted for ever in my mind.

He was enjoying sucking on his dummy, the pale-yellow plastic cover looking like it was constantly vibrating. There was a smile behind it and his eyes were clear, if slightly unfocused, as he got used to all the new sensations.

He started wriggling his body as if doing a little dance but then it suddenly occurred to me, he was peeing into his new underwear. Once he’d finished and without any comment or acknowledgement to what had happened, he got down on the floor and together we played with the Hot Wheels track I’d set up.

His padded bottom looked at home as for the next hour or so our cars ran the track, doing 360-degree loops, leaping over chasms and zooming between the legs of various plastic dinosaurs. We were in a world of our own, two sixteen-year old’s wearing thick but cute disposables and thoroughly enjoying ourselves on a very happy but juvenile level.

I thought this was what good mates did and we were kids just enjoying ourselves, asking no permission and having no embarrassment about anything. To me at least there was a fundamental happiness in knowing that at last I wasn’t the only one wearing such a babyish garment. Our nappy clad bums making not the slightest difference to how we played. From behind his dummy Terry was making as much noise as me, screeching around corners with his cars, or making grunting and fighting noises as our dinos battled each other.

Occasionally our playfighting was sillier and turned in to more hugging and patting each other, which was really very nice. It was something we hadn’t really done with each other since we were kids but even then, I don’t remember being aware of wearing nappies. However, it felt special now... and I loved it.

We pulled the duvet and pillows off the bed and made a ‘cave’ where we just sat looking at each other in the dark warmth and giggled before finding another game to play. My room was chaotic but alive and it was two kids, having the time of their lives that made it so.

I could see Terry’s nappy had expanded quite a bit as he let his bladder go and I seemed to mirror exactly what he was doing. My nappy was equally as soaked but that didn’t stop us finding something else as we delved into the upturned toy box.

We tumbled around, crawled about, stood, sat, lay and wriggled all over the carpet as we found new and fun things to occupy our imaginations. The cars and stuffies, planes, Lego and loads of other stuff I didn’t remember owning played its part in our fantastic toytown of fun. We were so immersed in what we were doing, whilst still sucking on our dummies, time, like inhibitions, seemed to fly away.

It was all quite pleasurable until mum came up and stared in complete and utter disbelief.

#

“Terry your mum has just called and, ermm, what the hell... uummm...?” Mum was lost for words as she not only took in the turmoil of my room but the two giggling kids responsible.

What didn’t help was that behind his binkie Terry had a ridiculous grin and of course a nappy obviously in desperate need of a change. After all he’d been sat or crawling around in its wetness for a couple of hours so it was pretty well mashed by then.

I just smiled at her but was quick with an explanation. “Terry didn’t want me to feel bad about being the only one wearing a nappy so volunteered to wear one as well... didn’t you Terry?”

Terry was doing a little wiggle as he sat looking up at mum but was just sucking and didn’t appear to be that much engaged in what was going on as he reached for Barney to hug.

Mum looked at us both and, in that moment, she seemed to make a decision.

I could tell she didn’t believe me but noticed Terry’s expanded disposable. He followed her eyes and looked down at his full nappy as if seeing it for the first time then rubbed at the swollen material.

“Terry,” mum spoke and probably because she’d done this many times recently with me, “do you need a nappy change?” She may not have accepted my excuse but I suppose she knew that leaving him in such a state for a long time might give him a rash. She looked at me with a sort of resignation, “I’ll sort you out later.”

It was weird to watch as she had him lay out on my bed and, as she’d done many times with me before, untaped the soggy mass, wiped him down, rubbed in some lotion and finished with a powdery flourish. She didn’t seem thrown by Terry’s size or constant giggling.

“OK Terry,” she was being her nicest self, “do you want to go home in a fresh nappy or wear your own undies?”

He looked from one pile to the other and pointed to another of my special thick disposables.

“Yuuummphh,” he tried to say something so mum just removed his dummy and asked him to speak clearly.

“Are you sure?” I could see she wasn’t convinced. Then again, a naked sixteen-year-old wanting to wear a nappy wasn’t exactly new to her. However, she asked once more to be certain and his reply was much clearer.

“Yes pwea... erm, please Mrs Benedict,” Mum didn’t look too sure but as he’d said that’s what he wanted and there was no guarantee he wouldn’t pee himself again, she acquiesced to his request.

She unfolded and fluffed it up to give it some body.

“Lift up.”

He did.

She quickly taped the pretty sweet disposable snugly around him with a flourish and patted it like she always did whenever she changed me.

He reached for the return of his dummy but mum said he’d had enough of that for the time being and, despite him now wearing a fresh disposable, said she wanted him to be a good boy because he was wanted back at home. He looked a bit sad but, like me, he didn’t argue with an adult. She helped him with the rest of his clothes and then asked me if there were any more dummies in the room. I pointed to those on the dresser and she swept them up and into her cardigan pocket. She nodded in my direction, “No more dummies for you either.” She didn’t say why and I was a little sad that I hadn’t kept one for myself because I really wanted a quick suck at that moment.

#

There was something wrong. I’d suspected it for some time but seeing John and especially Terry acting like they were three-year-olds just brought it all into perspective. The thing I’d also noticed was that John behaved differently when he was sucking on a dummy, now I saw Terry with one in and he was acting completely out of character so guessed that may be part of the issue. If I took them away then I could see what difference that made to the situation... that is... before I confront Avril.

The thing was and continues to be, John’s incontinence is not improving and rather than curing it we are simply finding more exotic ways to keep it contained. All this other stuff; the clothes, the onesies, the sleepers etc, etc, are unnecessary and I’ve been blinded by the entire operation from Avril and her suppliers in to thinking it was doing some good. I was pleased to be part of the campaign and saw how much John had enthusiastically thrown himself into it as well but this needs to stop.

However, there might be a problem... John.

He loves all this stuff and has come to rely on it to keep him comfortable and safe to such an extent that he hardly notices when he fills his nappies. It’s just something that happens he has no control over but is well wrapped in the best padding and protection available.

If I do get him away from all this..., what alternative can I offer because until the doctor comes up with a proper diagnosis that will sort out his dribbling bladder, his suggestion of a seeing a psychiatrist, whilst a last resort, might be just what he needs. However, until we decide one thing is for certain he’s still going to need a nappy.

First things first though, I need him to think like a sixteen-year-old and not a toddler, which is a shame because he and Terry looked like they were really enjoying themselves playing with their childhood toys.

#

Mum had a look about her that I hadn’t seen before, she wasn’t happy about something though I didn’t know what. Of course, she was hiding it reasonably well but once she had Terry dressed, he was ushered downstairs and told to go straight home and not dawdle. It was like she was talking to a toddler but he’s the same age as me. Once she’d seen him on his way mum returned to my bedroom and patted the bed next to her for me to come and ‘talk’.

I sat wriggling in my rather wonderful disposable thinking how lucky I am to be able to enjoy the comfort of such a lovely soft hug but mum is looking like she has something very serious to say.

“It was lovely watching you and Terry play with your toys... but” she smiled which I returned, “erm, why was he wearing one of your nappies?”

“I’d teased him about being scared to, you know, try one but today he wanted to.” I shrugged and carried on, “Because I’d been wearing them for a while now so he wondered what it felt like... don’t you think I should have let him?” Inside I thought I’d have been an awful friend if I hadn’t let him try, especially seeing as how keen he appeared but I could tell from mum’s answer she wasn’t as sure.

“Mmmmm, maybe but Terry doesn’t come across as that type of friend... I think something else made him want to wear one.”

“Really, what?”

“That dummy he had in his mouth... that especially seemed out of character...”

“But I gave him one to try because sucking on one relieves my anxiety and I know he’s under pressure at home to try and get into a Uni he doesn’t particularly want to go to.”

“Ah, well, that may be so but... and this is why I’ve taken them away... I think there is something about those dummies that is altering the perspective of whoever uses them.”

“Erm, I don’t know if...”

“That’s the problem, you don’t see it but I’ve noticed the change in you when you suck on one and I’ve never noticed such weird behaviour from Terry in regards to anything so... if you don’t have them then we’ll see if things change... okay?”

“But I like the dummies, there very soothing and...”

“That may be so sweetheart but I’m not satisfied that there isn’t something, and I’m not sure what just yet, but certainly, something isn’t quite right.”

“But mummm...”

“No love, I’ve made a decision and for the moment you’ll just have to bear with it until I know more but I’ll be going to see Avril tomorrow and ask about the...”

“Mummy it isn’t fair,” I stamped and cried and acted like a little kid. I rolled around on the bed and had a temper tantrum, the likes of which I hadn’t had since a toddler.

I continued this outburst for a few minutes and despite mum trying to coax me back to being her sweet little angel I wasn’t happy and made more noise. I think she was trying to think of a way to placate me when she came up with something I certainly wasn’t anticipating – she spanked my nappied bottom and told me to calm down, get into bed and stay there until teatime because I was acting up and being very naughty.

I didn’t want to but I was shocked and also didn’t want my bottom spanking again so crawled under the cover and cried myself to sleep. I wanted my dummy but I grabbed teddy instead and he helped calm me down.

#

I woke up as mum shook me from my surprising deep slumber and told me the evening meal was on the table so time to get up.

I was a little disorientated and for a moment had no idea what day or time it was so mumbled something to the effect I was fine and I’d be there in a sec. I wriggled from under the covers and of course my nappy was completely soaked, which was not unusual after I’d been asleep but felt that there was something else that I’d forgotten about or had to do. I sat on the edge of my bed and tried to remember but taking a look around and seeing all the usual array of incontinence products didn’t help, it just reminded me that I was a sixteen-year-old bed wetter. However, I ran my hand over the swollen bulk and was grateful, and not for the first time, that at least I hadn’t soaked the bed. Running my hand over the dent in the mattress where I’d slept and realised, I had in fact leaked and knew mum would be furious because that’s why I had to wear plastic pants and I hadn’t.

I sighed in recognition of my failure. At the same time, I saw all the toys, cars and stuffies lying at the other side of my bed and instantly remembered that Terry had been and we’d been playing and having fun with them. I sat up with a start as I also remembered that he was wearing a nappy, one of my thick and snug disposables and we were having a fantastic time before mum came and...

She did or said something, I couldn’t remember and I paused for a moment to try and regain my thoughts. However, mum’s voice echoed up the stairs to get a move on or my food would get cold. So, reluctantly, and without changing my soaked nappy, pulled on a pair of slinky plastic pants, a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and made my way downstairs.

Mum and dad had started their meal as I plonked myself down and looked at the colourful feast that mum had prepared - lasagne, broccoli, baby carrots and a couple of small roast potatoes. I didn’t say anything and neither did they but as I was so hungry I set about it with relish.

After we’d finished, I could tell they had something to discuss because dad looked most uncomfortable.

“I think it’s time for us to review your situation,” mum started, “and I think we should start with what happened earlier between Terry and you.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, suspicious of what she meant.

“Well for a starter,” Mum wasn’t going to sugarcoat whatever she wanted to say and I suspect she already had her own answers so I’d better not try and fob her off, “What the hell was he doing wearing one of your nappies and sucking on a dummy... that isn’t Terry at all... and don’t try and tell me he was just ‘experimenting’ because I don’t think he had any idea what he was doing.”

“Errrmmmm” I had no explanation because I remembered what we did and at the time it was fun and we were enjoying ourselves... but now... I also saw it as strange. “Sorry mum, but, well, I can’t explain except it seemed the right thing to do. I’d admitted to him that I wore nappies because I wet the bed and he just seemed curious, so...” and shrugged as if that was the full extent of what I knew.

“Well love, you may not have noticed but I have...”

“Noticed what?”

“That when you suck on one of those dummies, you act more like a little kid.”

I wriggled a little uncertain on my chair because now she’d said it out loud, I think she was correct. BUT, and this was something else, I hadn’t sucked on one for a while because she’d taken them away and I could actually think a little better.

“But I’m still wetting...”

“Yes, and that’s an ongoing problem which we’ll have to deal with, but I think all this other stuff... well...”

“But I like all of it.” The words were out before I could censor myself. I curiously experienced a mental click and suddenly felt like a little kid not the sixteen-year-old I was moments earlier.

Mum looked across at dad and then back at me. “I think that might be part of the problem. You’ve got so involved in what the pharmacy wanted...” Dad gave a little cough. “We’ve got involved in what Avril and the various companies wanted that maybe we’ve let things get out of hand and this is now not good for you.” She patted my arm as if consoling me that things were about to change.

“But mum, dad, I still wet, I need to wear nappies. I WANT MY NAPPIES” For some reason I got quite distraught and shouted the last bit but dad just gave me a look and I immediately calmed down. Well, I didn’t calm down, I just stopped talking and began to fill up. My head filled with what might happen and I felt scared that soon I’d be back wearing normal underwear whilst still peeing my pants... and hated the thought.

“I need my nappies,” I mumbled to anyone who could hear me through the sobs.

“Yes, love I know but... perhaps not all this other stuff. Maybe we just put all this other stuff away and let others do the reports and reviews for Avril, eh?”

“But, but... I like, erm...” suddenly I felt even littler. What could I do or say? Mum and dad were taking things away that meant something to me. “It’s not fair.” I would have stomped my foot had I been standing.

“Sorry son,” dad, who’d had very little to do with any of this over the weeks I’d been involved in it was speaking gently but was obviously worried about what had been going on. “Your mother’s right, you have changed and more or less regressed to being a little kid, more toddler than a healthy sixteen-year-old and that can’t be right, can it?”

At that moment the problem was I felt like a toddler, even though, just a few moments earlier, I felt like a teenager... what the hell happened in those moments? Not only that, I was scanning around desperate to find a dummy to suck. “I want my DUMMY” I screeched.

# tbc #

Part 8

The paddy that was about to follow didn’t even start. Dad, in a moment of controlled anger, slapped his hand on the table with such force it made all the cutlery rattle and the plates jump. Taken aback, it also made me and mum flinch.

“That’s enough Johnny,” he said forcefully, stopping any thought of continuing my demands. “No more of this childishness.”

I could see he was deadly serious and I’d never seen him in such a state before so stunned I clammed shut. Unfortunately, my bladder did the opposite and seemingly alarmed, shot several spurts of pee I didn’t even know I had left into my padding.

“There will be no more writing reviews, snuggling under fleecy onesies or acting like a toddler. You’re sixteen, and although you have a bladder problem, this is not the way we are going to treat it from this moment on. I want my teenage son back and wearing a nappy or not, I intend to have just that.”

Mum and I were speechless. I’m not sure either of us had seen dad like that or heard him being so definite and in charge. Dad looked at mum as if he was putting all the blame on her but when he looked at me I just cast my eyes down and dare not look at him directly. However, with my nappy filling up I wasn’t sure just how much of a teenager I was but dad had snapped me out of my toddler tantrum and made me think.

“I’ll speak with Avril tomorrow,” was mum’s attempt at placating dad, “and see what she has to say.”

“I think we’ve had enough of that woman, look what she’s turned our son into.”

He wasn’t going to let mum off easily either so she looked a bit shocked that blame was laid at her feet and got a little defensive.

“I’ve only been doing what’s best for Johnny...” I’d never seen mum like this, she was usually the one in charge but this outburst from dad had really shaken her.

“You think all this... stuff... is what he really needs?” I knew dad was angry because I’d never heard him speak to mum like this or seen her shrink away from confrontation before. “If he needs to wear a nappy, and I can see that it is necessary... like now...” he seemed to know that my nappy was soaked, “that’s fine but that’s about the limit.”

In a less angry moment, he held mum’s hand. “Look love, I’m blaming you and I shouldn’t be so hard but I feel you’ve encouraged this and to a certain extent enjoyed having your ‘little boy’ back but, I think even you realise that things have gone too far and I think it should stop, okay?”

Mum nodded.

Of course, I didn’t know it at the time but without such dramatics mum had more-or-less come to a similar conclusion but for different reasons and although wounded by dad’s accusation couldn’t disagree with him.

Despite me, only minutes earlier demanding a dummy, I was also pulled up by this extreme situation as to whether there were different desires (perhaps hormones) reaching out and reacting to my body that I didn’t know about. What I did know, I was suddenly on the same page as dad – why the hell would a sixteen-year-old want to be immersed in all this childish stuff?

That feeling lasted almost a minute before I began to panic. “Dad, dad, you’re not going to take everything away, are you?” I could feel my heart pulsating and tears formed in the corner of my eyes. “Please dad, don’t take away my...”

“No worry son, I’m not going to take anything away...” I sighed some relief. However, that also didn’t last long when he added, “You’re going to pack up everything... apart from the nappies and plastic pants which you still need... and give them back to the pharmacist... okay?”

I looked at him as if he’d just passed a jail sentence on me. “But dad...”

“No buts Johnny, we need to see an end to all this and you need to be the one to say goodbye to what you’ve become...” Mum wasn’t going to get all the blame there was certainly plenty to spare for me. “There are some black bin bags in the kitchen and I want you to start packing all that stuff away right now and then it’s done.”

“But dad, please, I mean... mum please don’t make me I can’t...” I wasn’t getting any support there either but thought it pretty cruel that dad was having me make the decisions on what had to go. I didn’t want any of it to go, which was incredible because only a few seconds before I thought dad was correct, I didn’t need all this baby stuff. My head didn’t know what my mind wanted – more toddler than teen.

However, I could really have done with one of my FruitiZuckers, that would have put everything in perspective and calmed my building and confusing fear. I knew I couldn’t ask for their return but wondered where mum might have put them. I thought if I looked like I was doing as dad said then I could delay things so could begin my search in the kitchen drawers but all I found was those damned bin bags.

#

I’d never experienced hubby react in such a way and I was quite taken aback by his accusation. The truth was I’d already come to the same conclusion I just hadn’t quite got around to expressing it... although I was trying to. When he accused me of encouraging it I wanted to go into denial but hadn’t I just changed Terry’s wet nappy and sent him home in a fresh one. I’d also enjoyed watching the boys in their childish play so despite not wanting to be blamed I was quite culpable.

#

Of course, mum knew exactly what I was up to.

“If you’re searching for your dummy, forget it...” I pretended that wasn’t the case but she wasn’t fooled.

“No, no just doing as dad said... erm... but...”

“Sorry sweetheart but your father’s right. All this has gotten out of hand and we need to put a lid on it.” She came in for a hug, which I hoped meant she was relenting just a little. “I’m annoyed at myself for not noticing the changes sooner, or, more infuriatingly, just going along with it because, well, you seemed to be enjoying it all.”

“Mum,” I said trying to get her on my side, “I am enjoying it. Despite waking up wet and needing a nappy all the time, I feel it’s something comforting and...”

“That’s the problem love,” she brushed hair off my forehead, “despite everything that we hoped would lead to a cure nothing has changed and I’ve let you become reliant on all this stuff instead of trying to get to the main issue, which was for you to stop wetting your pants.”

It was strange because as she spoke, I could understand what was meant, I had become fixated on the various items of clothing and not paid any attention to the actual problem. I mean, I was wetting all the time and I’d become totally dependent on my protection to deal with it. There was a time when this was just a little problem but now it was a huge problem but because of all the stuff, I simply wasn’t bothered.

“I’m sorry love,” she hugged me tightly, “but we have to address the issue and not just cover it up with pretty Dreamtime nappies.”

There was part of me that knew she was right but another part that didn’t want things to change, which was ridiculous because who wants to stay a sixteen-year-old pants wetter?

Well, I did or so it seemed.

“Mummm... erm...” but whatever I was going to say died on my lips and I fell into a surprisingly quick depression. I wanted to scream my opposition to what dad wanted but he seemed to have mum’s support and although I knew why they were doing what they planned, I desperately wanted to keep hold of all my cuddly stuff; stuff I thought important for my wellbeing.

#

Mum’s phone rang and I heard he say “Hello Holly” so knew it was Terry’s mum calling.

“Erm, yes, erm... wait... let me just....”

You could see from her reaction that what Holly was saying she didn’t want dad to know and excused herself to another room.

Meanwhile, dad had that look that told me he expected I should have started packing stuff away by now. Guiltily I tried to shove one of my onesies into a plastic bin bag but it felt like I was getting rid of one of my best friends.

“Look son,” he knew I was more than a little reluctant, “I know you’re not keen but...” he patted my sagging nappy. “Perhaps things might feel a little better if we get you out of this soggy padding and into something a bit drier.”

I nodded so he helped me out of it and said I should go wash and clean myself up, which I did.

Anxiety was flashing through my body and up into my head. One second, I understood where dad and mum were coming from, the next I was full of resentment... it made no sense. I’d been released from my waterlogged padding and stood naked in front of the bathroom mirror trying to take in my reflection. I had no pubes; my body was pale (especially around that area) and I thought I looked more like a little kid than a self-centred and self-confident teenager. I shook myself, as if trying to alter the image staring back at me, but it was useless. Not only did I look like a little kid I felt like one as well.

#

“I don’t know if Terry’s told you but John has been suffering from anxiety incontinence for some time now...”  Susan listened to the reply from her irate neighbour.

“Oh, I thought he might have said...still...” but the barrage at the other end of the phone continued.

“No, I just thought... he might have mentioned it in passing...” Holly Jackson was sticking up for her son telling her he wasn’t one to spread gossip.

“Well, that’s being a very good friend... and that’s exactly what John was trying to be when Terry came round earlier.”

Susan was thinking that she should have just sent him home without the change but then, that would have been a terrible thing to do to a lad wearing a soaked disposable... for whatever reason. Perhaps a better idea would have been to make him get dressed in the clothes he came in and that wouldn’t have caused any problems. She obviously hadn’t thought through the consequences of her actions merely thought to get him into something dry. It had never occurred to her that he simply would be seen wearing it by his parents. Alas, she had just thought he looked cute next to John and... well... you know what thought did? Thought wrong.

Holly, a friend she’d known for a quite a number of years, seemed furious that her son arrived home wearing a nappy, which he told her Susan had put him in. What possible excuse could there be and what had she been playing at?

The questions and accusations kept coming but as Susan didn’t have all the facts at her disposal and could only go by what John had told her, she tried to keep it as light-hearted as possible, despite the implications.

“Yes, yes Holly, but you must understand that Terry and John are the very best of mates and when Terry said, “How does it feel” and then offered the chance to try them, like a good, erm, supportive friend, that’s just what he did”.

The argument and interrogation continued as Holly tried to comprehend (or blame) something she didn’t really quite understand. As far as she was concerned it was of course completely against something her son would do. He was sixteen after all.

Even to Susan’s ears, as she was trying to explain she doubted if Holly, who knew her son better than anyone, would except her explanation... whether it was true or not. Terry had never come over as that type of lad. This of course made Susan suspect even more that the dummy had some input into both the boy’s behaviour but hoped not to have to mention that at this stage.

“I’m sorry Holly if I’ve caused a problem, I didn’t mean to and of course John here was so happy that for a little while at least he had someone with him who seemed to understand and empathise with his, well, rather embarrassing situation.” Susan hoped this tack might be a little bit more successful but made her even more determined to get to the bottom of why two teenage boys should have been acting like a couple of toddlers to the point they had wet themselves.

Meanwhile, Holly needed to know why her son had wet himself in the first place... and that was going to be a more difficult thing to rationalise.

#

Bruce was at the bathroom door and whining to come in. Since he’d been forbidden to sleep in my room at night, he’d become nervous of entering anywhere without permission. However, as he’d seen me in all the various stages of undress since he was a puppy and I was ten it hardly seemed fair keeping him out now.

“C’mon,” I patted the side of my thigh and Bruce seemed overjoyed to wander over wagging his tail for a quick stroke and being made a fuss of. “Yes boy... who’s a good boy...” and I appreciated his return affection by snuggling up against my crotch and licking my thigh.

After a few minutes of petting (I’m not sure who was getting the most out of it) I decided to get dressed so wandered back to my room. Surprisingly, dad was still there and inspecting all the stuff that had spread about the room.

“Well lad,” he said lifting a pile of thick disposables, “I know you’re still going to need these but hopefully, when the doctor lets us know the results of your tests, we’ll have a better idea of how we need to progress.” He sighed, “However, until then I suppose you should keep all this stuff handy,” he spread his hand to take in the nappies, plastic pants and various powders and ointments, “but try and lose some of these other items... I really think they are giving off the wrong message.”

Dad wasn’t angry. In fact, if anything, I think he’d calmed down a bit but again I could see what he was getting at though nothing seemed as urgent as it had only a few minutes ago. I suppose he’d had a moment to reflect and as he’d just let me out of a very soggy nappy knew that despite everything else, I still needed my padded protection and the thicker the better.

“Can you just make sure that you wear some clothes over your nappies... let’s get you back to a touch of normality... can you do that?”

“Yes dad, no problem,” I said as my sixteen-year-old self.

He paused at the door as if in thought. I wasn’t sure whether he was thinking about offering to put me in my nappy, which in truth I would have loved because I like the idea of being looked after, but in the end, he sort of shrugged and left me to it.

I toddled over to the pile of thick fleecy nappies and thought about pinning myself into one of them and pulling up some of the less flamboyant plastic pants but in the end decided on a lovely colourful disposable and my special sturdy pair of blue rubber pants to hold it in place. Then I pulled on a pair of jeans, which I’m not sure when I last wore and hoped dad would be satisfied.

However, I didn’t like the way it all felt, the jeans were too restrictive so I swapped them out for a pair of rather old but looser robust elasticated grey school shorts that would easily fit over everything and a navy-blue polo shirt.

#

I sat on my bed and absentmindedly stroked Bruce’s head and scratched his ears, which he seemed to like. I was sorting out in my head what things I could pack away and the items I definitely wanted to keep. As it was, and despite trying to be a good teenager, I wanted to keep the lot as everything had given me pleasure at some point. The thing is, I was thinking as a sixteen-year-old yet still wanted to keep my childish fluffy Dreamtime onesies, footed sleepers, even teddy, which had given me some lovely night-time cuddles and hated the thought of losing any of it. I knew this was madness. However, I also knew I had to make a start and reluctantly shoved a couple of the older items in the black plastic bag and hoped I wouldn’t miss them as much.

Once I started, I was quite amazed at the number of products I seemed to have accumulated in such a relative short space of time and began to find things I’d forgotten about. Unfortunately, that set me off thinking about wearing or at least trying them on again and that made me annoyed that I was having to lose so much stuff, which of course in turn made me want to keep everything all over again. I knew it was going to be hard but making any kind of choice was becoming ridiculous in my teenage/toddler brain.

#

That was it! My mind had become confused as to who exactly I was. I reached for a dummy but of course that had been taken away by mum and it was then that I realised that I’d come to enjoy sucking on that particular item far too much. Maybe mum was on to something. Suddenly that jumble of emotions and irrationality, the feeling of being part of something when in fact I wasn’t influencing anything but being influenced - it was quite the disappointing eye-opener and I felt used by the Dreamtime company.

I wondered how long this moment of clarity would last... that was until I looked in the mirror and could make out the huge nappy and plastic pants under my shorts, which without doubt made me look the little kid I felt I’d become. I had to think pretty hard not to like what I saw. I’m sixteen, I shouldn’t be... oh god... I’m just caught up in some creepy ball of confusion. There are things I actually liked, and like, about behaving, and dressing as a little kid.

For one, I had loved innocently playing with Terry and him wearing the same as me. It just seemed right and I’d never seen him so happy. We’d spent quite some time just having fun with toys and letting our imaginations take over. It was incredible. It was... well... it was a feeling, for me at least, of a different life that I missed and was so enjoyable. The fact that we were both in nappies, and it didn’t matter, made it so we didn’t have to explain anything, it just happened. Me and Terry have been friends since little kids but I don’t think we have ever played like we did in those few hours... well, since we were little.

The thing is, I know I shouldn’t but these thoughts are just going round and round in my head. I wasn’t sure what I could do to break this sequence of self-induced mind-games – was I a teenager or a little kid? Another thought was, did I prefer being a little kid. I mean, I seemed to have fun but did that mean I couldn’t have fun as a teenager, or was I just overthinking the entire situation?

I sat on my bed when Bruce came over and nuzzled my hand wanting more affection. Was that how I’d become? I asked myself once more, is all this stuff me wanting attention and through the nappies and these various items was getting it? Had I become more interested (and needy) in all the things Avril and Dreamtime had been supplying and that everything else had become less important? Did I need all these soft and comfy things or had I just been indulging myself at the expense of actually finding a cure for my incontinence? I looked at Bruce and gave him a lovely long stroke on his belly and his hind leg started reacting to his enjoyment. I realised, in some way at least, this had become my reaction when I got something new to try out.

#

Over the next couple of days, not much seemed to change, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that things were shifting beneath the surface. Avril was unreachable - her replacement at the pharmacy couldn’t say if she was ill or away, only that she hadn’t mentioned any plans. That uncertainty left a strange knot in my stomach and another unanswered set of questions for mum.

Then, whenever I called, Terry’s mum always had a new excuse for why he couldn’t come to the phone. I couldn’t help but wonder if she was hiding something, or if Terry himself was avoiding me on purpose. Was something going on that I didn’t know about? Was not having my dummy to suck causing some kind of paranoia? Then I remembered that he was also sucking on a dummy when he arrived at our place. Hmmm.

At home, Dad’s behaviour was puzzling too. I’d filled a couple of bin bags with things he’d asked for, but now he seemed in no hurry to get rid of them. Had he already decided what to do with my things behind my back, or was he just waiting for something? The odd silence between us made the atmosphere feel heavier.

All the while, I found myself slipping into a strange in-between place. I’d stopped wearing the fleecy pyjamas and onesies as Dad had asked, sticking to just a nappy and plastic pants at night. Oddly, wearing only those should have made me feel younger, but instead I felt oddly grown-up, like I was finally accepting things as they were. Maybe it was relief, or maybe resignation—either way, it left me feeling both exposed and strangely mature, as if I’d crossed some invisible line in my own mind. No dummy, but I was surviving without it. However, each morning my nappy was still soaked. I still needed as much protection as ever.

With all these questions swirling around - Avril’s absence, Terry’s evasiveness, Dad’s sudden change of heart—the days started to blur together. I was restless, waiting for something to break the tension. And then, just as the uncertainty was beginning to feel unbearable, we got the call from the doctor’s office asking Mum or Dad to come in as soon as possible. That was when I realised, I’d only been skimming the surface of what was really going on around me.

#

“Does your son take drugs?” The doctor’s words were damning.

The accusation took Susan by surprise but she’d known that the reason the doctor needed to talk was because of some result of John’s blood test.

“No of course not... why do you ask?” Susan asked cautiously.

“Well, because we found traces of methamphetamine in the tests we’ve just run.” He offered the screen on his desk for her to see the results for herself and pointed out the bright colourful spikes on the graph. “Although, it isn’t a drug we know too well... it might be something new that’s going around school... or something... these protein levels are a little high as well but they might be down to diet or something. I don’t see a need to worry about them at the moment.” the doctor saw the look of disappointment on Susan Benedict’s face and wished he’d approached this news a little differently.

“My son does not take drugs,” although suspicious she wasn’t certain she should confide in the doctor. However, she quickly decided she couldn’t keep her misgivings to herself and produced one of John’s much-loved dummies and explained her worries about it.

“Why does your teenage son use a child’s pacifier?” Dr Answah cautiously held it at arms-length.

“Mmmm, well...” Susan started guardedly but decided he needed details. She then went into the explanation of the deal she and the pharmacist had struck about the supplies they’d organised for John’s wetting problem and how things had developed over the last couple of months from there. She told him of her current suspicions about the relatively new inclusion of dummies and said that although her son was sixteen, at times he acted childishly, which she was at pains to point out, was not like him normally and was also a relatively recent development. In fact, as far as she knew, only since he’d started using a dummy, which John said he found most soothing.

“Hmmmm,” Doctor Answah listened closely and advised that she should collect all the dummies, give them to the police and tell them what she’d just told him. As far as he could see, something was definitely fishy and therefore should have no further involvement with the pharmacist until tests had been carried out.

So, the blood tests had shown some kind of drugs in John’s system but no other cause of his urinary cascade and the need for the continued use of nappies. The results showed no symptoms of infection or blockage, so that was at least something.

Meanwhile, the young doctor discussed the results and listened to Susan explain her son’s problem in more depth. He suggested that a psychiatrist might be needed to get to the bottom of John’s problem and offered a contact number if there was no improvement.

Susan was a little shell-shocked with the news of drugs in her son’s system, however, it did unfortunately explain the change in his behaviour. At the same time she wondered if Avril’s absence from work was somehow connected. She didn’t really want to go to the police before she’d spoken with her but that ship may well have sailed.

Susan’s feelings were a tangled web of guilt, nostalgia, and bafflement. For weeks, she had watched John regress into a state of childhood innocence that seemed to soothe something inside him—and, if she was honest with herself, brought a bittersweet comfort to her as well. The responsibilities and tribulations of raising a teenager had been quietly replaced by routines she’d thought long gone; wearing nappies and colourful covers, tucking him in and offering comfort as she once had when he was a toddler. It was as if time had momentarily reversed, allowing her to protect him again from a world that had grown increasingly complicated, hostile... and wet.

It had all started out innocently enough, finding a way to stop a morning of wet pyjamas and bedding. She’d loved the suggestion of thick nappies and was keen to see her son back in them because it would be an instant cure. Not of him wetting but just how much and what was soaked each day.

But Susan’s sense of pleasure was shadowed by guilt. She worried that her willingness to allow, even encourage, this regressive behaviour might have blinded her to the warning signs that something deeper was wrong. Perhaps, in her longing to preserve those fleeting moments of closeness, she had missed, or chosen to ignore, the subtle signals of trouble. Now, confronted with the reality of drugs in John’s system, her innocence felt complicit, and the simple joy she’d experienced was tainted with the realisation that her actions might have enabled something harmful.

In essence, Susan was caught between the sweetness of nostalgia and the sharp sting of responsibility. Avril may well have given her son drugs to ease him into a regressive state but she was only now realising her own complicity in the project. Her emotions were a mixture of love, regret, and a desperate desire to make things right, even as she grappled with the dawning understanding of how complex, and dangerous, the situation had become.

#

“Sweetheart, we need to talk.” I knew it must be serious and wondered what the tests had shown... was I at death’s door or worse?

“Mum, is everything alright?” I asked uneasily.

“Erm, well, yes and no...” she looked like she was searching for the correct words. “The doctor found something strange in the blood test he carried out and I need you to understand that... well... erm... it’s nothing to blame yourself for.”

That uneasy tingle swept right through my body and, not for the first time, I was glad I was wearing a nappy as my bladder released in nervous expectation.

“You’ve been drugged!” She blurted out, which was unlike her as normally she’s so composed. “I think those dummies you’ve been given by Avril...”

“The FruitiZuckers?” I enquired unnecessarily.

“Yes, erm, have been laced with some kind of drug and, I’m sorry to say, seems to have made you...well... regress... mentally.”

I wasn’t sure what she meant. I didn’t feel like I’d been regressed, I was just enjoying having fun. I mean, I hadn’t had a dummy for a couple of days now yet I still wet at night and was still wearing (thankfully) my nappy. I pointed this fact out.

“Then there’s Terry, a friend who I’d never put down as a nappy-wearer and now appears not to want to see you... and I think that’s because he’s embarrassed by the entire recent episode of you two, sucking on dummies, wearing nappies, plastic pants and playing with your kiddie toys. His mum thinks it’s me that made him wear a nappy.”

“But you changed him...”

“Yes, well, that was my mistake...” mum seemed resigned at her involvement in the whole affair. “He asked for it and I let my judgement slip... I should have known better or at least been aware that something was wrong.”

“So mum, are you saying that both of us have been drugged and as a result, all that we’ve been doing is because of that?”

“I think so pet.” She looked at me with huge sad eyes (like Bruce’s when he thinks he’s in our bad books for some reason). “The doctor wasn’t sure... but as that is the only link I could see... but I’m taking them to the police to see what they think.”

“THE POLICE?” my voice seemed to go up an octave in surprise, “Hell mum, do you think it’s that bad?”

“I think so love and Avril is going to have a lot of questions to answer when she gets back.”

#

Things had taken a completely different turn and I wasn’t sure how to react. It was all so unbelievable and bizarre and just didn’t seem to be for the benefit of anyone but, well, me. I mean, despite my initial scepticism, I had grasped the entire concept of reviews for products and thoroughly enjoyed doing my bit. Okay, really enjoyed doing my bit and I’d loved throwing myself with gusto into using the Dreamtime merchandise. The idea that what all this had led to was soon to be a police matter was quite disconcerting. My nappy was awash with the amount of unexpected pee that had filled the damn thing... who knew where it was all coming from? I desperately needed a fresh one and suspected, also, a couple of extra stuffers.

In spite of my needs, mum’s trip to the police station didn’t go too well and she was left trying to explain her part in all of this. She was interviewed for over an hour with suspicion falling on her rather than the pharmacist. Eventually, she found a senior police woman who took her concern seriously and so a case was open. Mum said all she received was an eleven-digit number to use for reference and referral as things progressed or didn’t, whichever the case was. She was glad to get home but was annoyed about how things had developed. Anyway, it was in the hands of the law now so she could step back. However, the police wanted all the stuff I’d been given by Dreamtime to be packed up and sent as evidence. Dad must have had a premonition that was going to happen as the already filled bags were dropped off and we only kept the nappies, plastic pants, baby powder and such necessities... we said they were things we’d bought ourselves. Not all of that was true but I liked the thick nappies and most of the disposables and I did need them.

#

It felt weird that something that had seemed so innocent had suddenly become a ‘police matter’ and that got me thinking that maybe it had all been a bit of a con, although I wasn’t sure how or why. There was also the fact that now I felt like I’d been a guinea pig in some strange, and so far, unexplained experiment and what was worse, had everything I’d been doing contributed to my continued wetting? There was another question that I tried to avoid – Why had I been so keen to be involved and why did I just love all the products I’d been sent to review? Had my glowing and usually positive reviews made them experiment more with someone who was so easily persuaded?

Had I in fact been drugged throughout all of this?

# tbc #

 

Part 9

For perhaps obvious reasons, my wetting had only worsened over the past few days. I was feeling fretful about everything, especially now that the police were involved, and I couldn't stop wondering what they'd think about my role in reviewing teen/baby items. The new pharmacy manager informed Mum (and, presumably, the police) that Avril appeared unreachable and she didn’t know how or where to contact her. In the meantime, as the police conducted their investigation, Dreamtime paused all product placement and research projects, including mine and, I assume, anyone else’s who was participating. However, a couple of packages containing disposables—apparently ordered for me—had arrived. So evidently this had been organised before the shutdown of the project.

There was a note attached which Mum read

John Benedict

Over 5 million on line views

To show our appreciation

Please accept these in thanks for a job well done

Dreamtime Management

Ever practical and despite her worries, Mum recognised I needed nappies and told the apprehensive new pharmacist that she’d ordered them herself and were nothing to do with Dreamtime, so simply took them and brought the bundle home.

A few days later and the police hadn't provided any major updates—though they made the point that it was still early in their investigation. They were still trying to track down Avril and though they’d taken a load of my Dreamtime clothing for testing, not much progress had been made in that direction either. I also received a visit from Terry, who seemed unusually quiet and uncertain about what had happened when he came last. Despite his confused demeanour, I was both surprised and genuinely pleased to see him.

Once again, he found me in my bedroom wearing a t-shirt, plus the now obligatory newly applied thick nappy and plastic pants that I’d just changed into. I heard a very subtle sigh as he plonked himself down on my bed so asked how he’d been over the last few days.

“OK I guess,” was his almost non-committal answer.

Of course, I was desperate to know what had gone on with his mum and why she’d been keen to keep us apart but thought it was best not to rush things as Terry didn’t look at all himself.

Eventually though, he clarified that my mum had done a fairly good job of explaining to his mother that he was only trying to help me come to terms with my ‘anxiety incontinence’ and that - Terry was no way into being babied or that she was keen on babying others so I wouldn’t be alone wearing a nappy. It was simply him being a good friend.

The clarification wasn’t solid but at least it was just about plausible. It was simply something two good friends did to support each other but could see that perhaps we’d taken it a little too far. However, he confided, it hadn’t helped that he’d pissed in his pyjamas whilst he slept the following night though mercifully had woken up early enough to secretly sort himself out.

He had to admit that he had no idea why he’d felt the need to join me in my nappied state. Although on that particular night he was dreaming he was wearing a nappy so pissing wasn’t going to be a problem. Unfortunately, dreams are completely different to reality and, in fact, he wasn’t wearing any protection at all. He woke up before wetting everything but it was still a shock to the system.

I had to enlighten him to the events that had so recently come to light, which he listened to in disbelief, especially about what had been found in the dummies, though seemed relieved there was at least some reason for his actions.

“We’d been drugged?” He said in disbelief, “Bloody hell, well, that might explain... erm...” He clammed up not knowing what else to add to what had happened.

I also told him that it was now a police matter, which made him shudder with anxiety until I calmed him with the news that we hadn’t mentioned his name. He was very grateful about that because he inferred his mother would never have trusted any of us ever again if the cops had come a knocking on their door.

He wondered, like we had all been doing, just why Dreamtime had become involved in drugged dummies and, was it possible to have impregnated all the stuff I had been reviewing with something similar. However, we also thought if this was a national scandal, how come we hadn’t heard about it on the news or in the papers? Maybe it was a national scandal but the police had to keep it secret for some reason. We tossed around our wild ideas and speculation which led to the wildest conspiracy theories, which in turn we hoped to get answers for pretty soon. Meanwhile, I still wet my thick padding at night and it appeared more so when I least expected it. I just sighed because it was something I’d gotten used to. Thankfully, Mum had seen to it that I had a ready supply of some of the best disposables around.

#

Bruce had come to join us wagging his tail being his usual excited self, which reminded me I still had to take him out so suggested that Terry joins us if he had nothing better to do. He didn’t seem too enthusiastic and again, as I pulled on a pair of shorts to cover my bulky padding, I heard that same whimper and sigh. I hadn’t been mistaken; it came from Terry.

I knew something was bothering him and I also recognised the fact that he was not really his usual bullish self. Normally he’d have had some humorous comment about me looking like a big kid or how much I reminded him of his little cousin but he just looked glum and seemed deep in thought about our conspiracy theories.

As Bruce ran free in the woods I tried to get Terry to chat about anything. He just didn’t seem bothered about engaging in any gossip, music, TV, our other friends, holidays, family. Whatever subject I brought up it was just one syllable answers and yet more shrugs or sighs. In the end, and after Bruce had done what he’d come out to do, I sat both of them down (Bruce being a bit more animated than my friend) and made Terry tell me what was going on. He was very reluctant to say but then I asked why he'd come around if he didn't want to chat.

“OK, I’ll go then,” he murmured but didn’t move.

“Don’t be daft,” I tried to be light-hearted as this was a normal response when I knew he really wanted to say something.

I heard a light grumble going on, as if he was psyching himself up for a fight or argument.

“Look,” I said, “It’s obvious you’ve got something on your mind so... why not just say it and then it’s done and we can deal with it... whatever it is?”

His eyes searched mine and I don’t think I’ve ever been looked at like that by anyone.

“Can I trust you?” He whispered intensely.

“Of course.” I didn’t want to elaborate as we’ve been friends for years and if he didn’t trust me by now, he never would.

He paused.

“I have a, um, a confession,” he looked away and suddenly got distracted by Bruce who was nuzzling his hand.

“OK, what?”

“Erm...” there was an even longer pause (and pats to Bruce) before he got up the guts to spill them. And then, it all came out in a rush. “I enjoyed wearing nappies...” there was another sigh but this time one of relief. “I don’t know why or how but when I got home after our session, I was admiring myself in the bedroom mirror at how strange it looked but how comfy the whole thing felt, then mum came in. I just didn’t know what to say and I blurted out that your mum had put me in them...”

To say I was shocked would be an understatement because like mum, I’d never have thought Terry was the type of lad who well... you know... would go for such a thing. I mean I was glad when he had but when thinking about it later, I had been surprised... but then I thought...

“Yes” I interrupted, “but you were under the influence of whatever was in the dummy... weren’t you?”

“I wish I could put it down to the drug, but, well, erm... a couple of times since... erm... like after a shower...erm...um... I’ve fastened the towel around me like you know, like a nappy around my cock and balls and... it... urrmm... felt like I wanted the real thing.” He sounded like he didn’t quite understand what was going on but there was a question and an appeal in his voice, although at the time I didn’t take in just what he wanted.

I hoped I didn’t look shocked and I didn’t say anything negative I just put my hand on his shoulder and that was it. I hoped it looked like I was being supportive but in my head was wondering just what had I inadvertently let loose? I’d appreciated what we’d done together but this...? How come, what had started as a little bit of bedwetting had escalated to all this?  

So many questions but absolutely no answers.

#

The thing is, although I was blaming myself at no point had I insisted he wear a nappy. Then I had another thought, which really knocked me sideways, I hadn’t wanted to wear a nappy either but circumstances had led to it and now, well, I couldn’t see myself without protection. Is that what happens to lads when they get to a certain age, they want the comfort and protection of a well-padded crotch? My head was spinning at all the thoughts as Terry was staring at my crotch because a large part of the plastic padding was on view down my right short’s leg.

“Well?” he queried.

“Well, what?”

“What do you think. I mean, you wear them all the time so...”

“Yes, but I’m no expert. I have no idea what’s going on in your head but I can’t deny when we were playing together and dressed... you know... like we were... it felt fantastic.”

I can’t say that the scene hadn’t been replayed again and again in my head since we’d done it... it was pretty fan-bloody-tastic.

For the first time Terry’s face lit up. “I thought so too... and fun, and now, with a bit of distance, I’m wondering if we could, erm, you know, urm, try and do it again?” There was a hopeful edge to his restrained enquiry.

There was a moment of complete silence. I was trying to take in what he’d just said and I think he was waiting for some kind of explosion from me. Neither happened because once I’d had time to think about it (just a few seconds as it turned out) I thought I’d better just check I heard him correctly.

“What, you want us to act like little kids?” I asked, my voice tinged with disbelief. He gave me a curious, hopeful smile and nodded. “Are you sure this isn't just the drugs talking?” I continued, although I sincerely hoped he hadn’t been on any other medication lately. I couldn’t help but question where all this was coming from—after all, Mum always said Terry wasn’t ‘that type of lad’. In all our years together, this was out of character for him. Maybe a bit of soft fleecy comfort had revealed a side of Terry that even he didn’t know existed. Terry’s a big guy—bigger and more athletic than me—a real lad’s lad, if you know what I mean. It just didn’t fit.

“Perhaps the drugs just opened my eyes a bit, let me experience something...” he murmured but I could see he meant what he was saying.

The fact that I’d told him it was now all a police matter appeared not to have put him off the idea. I suppose because he hadn’t been linked in any way, but there again, it still felt weird. I mean, since stopping sucking on those rather special dummies I hadn’t thought to go back and play with my toys but, now he’d mentioned it, I was wondering... maybe it would be fun.

Thoughts were zooming in and out of my brain - one second, I was keen on the childish aspect, the next, dreading explaining it to his mum. Would we still want to do it without the effects of our FruitiZucker?  Was there some residual drug in our system or, had the drug already changed us?

“Look,” I had my thinking head on, “do you only want to wear a nappy or is it the rest that you want... you know... the escape... the silliness? Are you sure that...

“Yes, I’m sure.” He interrupted and seemed adamant.

“Even without the drug induced euphoria?”

“It’s been playing on my mind for days. Although I now know it was because of those nobbled suckers, when I didn’t know, I still had it in my head just how much fun we both had.” He was touching my shoulder and searching my eyes again. “A few things make more sense now but the simple fact is, since that happened, and although I could claim it had all been down to a drug induced incident, it’s all still in here.” He tapped his head, “and I don’t know if it will be a one off or, like for you, more.” He paused again as if he needed to say something else but wasn’t sure. “I need to get it out of my system or I’ll explode.” He mimed his head exploding. That was followed by a huge thank heaven I’ve got that off my chest sigh.

He seemed to imply that there would be an unhappy end if I didn’t agree.

“OK then,” I had no option, “when do you want to do it?”

“As soon as possible but, I think, I’d rather no one else knew about it...”

“So, you don’t want mum or dad around?”

“Not if we can avoid it.”

“Well, I get the house to myself regularly so why don’t I call you the next time and you can come over or... perhaps like we did as kids... we can have a sleep over?”

“Hmmm, that will still involve your mum and dad wont it?”

“Yes, I suppose it would.” I gave it some further thought. “Look, it will have to be done on the spur of the moment when no one else is around so you’ll just have to leave it with me... okay?”

“Sure,” he seemed to have got his excitement and enthusiasm back as he gave Bruce a fairly hefty rub. “In the meantime, can you lend me one of your nappies?”

He caught me off guard but of course it was something I couldn’t refuse, “Sure”.

#

Terry was in a lot better mood as we headed back to my place. Telling me about his mum’s worry and although at first it was a bit terrifying trying to explain everything, after a day or two it all calmed down. “Though I’m still not certain she believes all she was told.” He rambled on, “I see her out the corner of my eye looking at me suspiciously.” He sighed again, “Can’t say I blame her.”

“But you still want to take a nappy home?”

“I know, stupid huh? But I just want to try sleeping wearing one of those lovely disposables because I have to tell you, the last time, it felt incredible.”

Not a revelation for me but to hear him say it, well, that’s something else entirely.

Meanwhile, Bruce had emptied his bowel in one large, coiled dump and I bent down to retrieve it in the little plastic bag. Christ, I thought, I hope Terry doesn’t expect me to do this if he shits in his nappy. I chuckled to myself but didn’t tell him my thoughts.

#

When we got home, we went up to my room and I let him chose which disposable he wanted (the new batch meant I still had quite a lot despite losing some to the cops). Once he’d decided, and as mum was in the kitchen, he slipped it under his jacket and headed home. I promised to let him know once I knew the house was going to be empty for a couple of hours. I had a feeling it wouldn’t be that long to wait as my parents often left me to my own devices. I am sixteen after all and quite capable of looking after myself.

Terry looked like I’d given him an award or something he seemed so grateful and thanked me many times before he left. The transformation between his mood on arrival and his leaving temperament was incredible, he was like a completely different person. I went into the kitchen and found mum and dad in deep conversation. They were obviously talking about all that had been happening.

“You know,” this was dad, “I just don’t understand what Avril or the Dreamtime company were getting out of this.” Mum shrugged because she was in at the beginning and it all seemed so legit. “The spiked dummies? I mean? Surely, they must have known that they would be discovered...”

“Maybe, they weren’t from the clothes company... perhaps that was another opportunist company... maybe...” but mum’s argument faltered on her lips. She just wasn’t sure of any of it any more. For a confident and sure person like mum, this sort of betrayal had come as quite a shock.

“Despite everything,” dad was adding as he watched me pull up to the table because I saw biscuits available, “Johnny here has not had a dry day or night for ages and, if anything, he’s using nappies even more.”

I wasn’t sure if they were offering sympathy or accusing me of something but dad wanted my input into the conversation.

“What do you think?”

“I don’t know dad,” I paused but of course I had been thinking about this enterprise myself and since the cops got involved have wondered what it was all in aid of. “Were there other pharmacists in town or around the country involved? The doctor mention he’d seen other teens in nappies but didn’t say how many or even if there was any link”.

“True,” mum contributed, “Although Avril did say there were others and that our reviews were being collated somewhere... but I never asked where... even after the thank you bundle had arrived.” She shrugged.

“I assume the police will have a team on this,” Dad was merely speculating, “I just hope they can come up with some answers quickly.” He looked across at me. “Although, I’m not sure how it will help if they do.”

It was true, my nappy saturation had increased and I had no idea why. I had no excuse; exams were over so I couldn’t blame school (although still a little anxious about waiting on results). To be honest I had no excuse except my bladder had a mind of its own and didn’t let on until it was too late.

“Well, the doctor did say we should book him in for a session with a psychiatrist... see if we can get to the bottom of this wetting business.” Mum looked determined, “Maybe we should have got one involved a lot earlier.”

Hindsight is a wonderful thing but doesn’t help so, as far as dad was concerned, we look to the future. He nodded, “The sooner the better.”

With a slight feeling of guilt, I made my way into the garden. Bruce, always intuitive, sensed I needed a bit of comfort and dashed after the ball I threw with renewed enthusiasm, barking as he skidded across the dewy grass. The air outside was brisk, but the freedom of being away from the endless debate inside felt like a relief. As I watched Bruce chase and return the ball, tail wagging furiously, I wondered if maybe he was offering up a solution in his own way—distraction, uncomplicated joy, and loyalty. Back in the house, mum and dad would still be worrying, discussing what steps to take next.

Doctor Answah’s recommendation about a psychiatrist weighed heavily, but, for now, under the open sky and with Bruce beside me, the confusion and scrutiny faded away, leaving only the simple pleasure of fresh air and uncomplicated companionship. The moment was a small reprieve before whatever came next, and I found myself quietly grateful for it. However, I could feel my nappy warming as I unconsciously let loose yet another stream of seemingly unstoppable pee. There were occasions during this time when I experienced feelings reminiscent of childhood.  It wasn’t something conscious and at times I hardly noticed but at that moment, with a very soaked nappy, I wasn’t unhappy. These days (and mornings) a wet nappy gave me no cause for alarm. The soft absorbent fabric was doing what it was designed to do and doing it well.

#

Monday morning and dad was at work whilst mum, who was putting on her coat, said she was going to see a friend from her university days who had become a psychiatrist. She inferred that after she’d shopped, they would be doing lunch adding that there was plenty in the fridge if I got hungry. With a sloppy goodbye kiss, she was out the door and on her way. I had no idea who it was she was going to meet. However, now she’d gone it was time to act; I called Terry and asked if he was available to come around.

“Bloody hell John, I thought you’d never call (it had been less than two days) I’ve made such a mess of this one I need something a bit more substantial. I’m on my way.”

The phone clicked off and I didn’t get to say anything else.

“Made a mess of this one”. Well, that image set things off in my head and not in a good way. As it was, I’d only just got up so my wet night time nappy was still in place, plastic pants as usual doing a fantastic job of stopping any leaks but poor Bruce was waiting to be taken out for his morning walk.

I should have attended to all these tasks before I’d called Terry but I thought we’d chat and arrange things before he hung up with some urgency. Within three minutes he was banging on the front door. Still with a sopping wet nappy I answered and invited him in.

Terry barely gave me a chance to speak before Bruce, ever the opportunist, bounded over for a quick pat. Terry took one look at me and couldn’t resist commenting, “Christ John, that nappy looks fit to burst... mind you... this total look really suits you.” He let out a hearty chuckle, clearly amused by the sight of me still wearing a droopy nappy behind a rather sagging pair of plastic pants. The front door was still open so Bruce seized his moment, darting out into the garden without hesitation. He seemed content as he sniffed around, eventually finding his favourite bush. With a sense of satisfaction, he lifted his leg and relieved himself, perfectly at ease in his own familiar territory. Had I become my dog?

“Thanks mate,” I snarled at Terry’s jokey observation, but in fact I didn’t really mind. I’d gotten used to a heavy soaked nappy at various times and he’d seen me now on several occasions wearing one so it was like water off a duck’s back. Although I pretended it was some kind of insult.

He rushed up and enthusiastically rubbed the sides of my plastic pants with both his hands, whilst telling me what a good boy I was. It was like an adult greeting a baby and expecting a smile.

“Who’s a good boy then, yes he is, yes he is... such a sweet nappy-clad baby all waiting for daddy to change ums.”

This was delivered with such a fun, jokey flourish that it set me off giggling and before I was really aware, more pee had warmed the front and I actually did need a change before I started to leak. However, I got in a remark which I hoped would make him think.

“Daddy? That’ll be the day!”

Although we’d joked about this at school since I’d made my padded confession, and he said that as I reminded him of his little cousin, he would change my soggy nappy, it had never got further than a gag. The fact that it was him now asking me for a nappy also put a new perspective on it all. Not only that but my memory of us playing together, dressed in nappies and nothing else, and remembering, just how sweet and childlike he was, didn’t add up to him being a DADDY. All those thoughts passed through my mind when I’d said those words. “Daddy? That’ll be the day!”.

He was still laughing at his observation and I could see him desperate for us to move things along so I pointed upstairs and we made our way to my bedroom where everything I had left was stashed. Because the Police had so much stuff, I was depleted of some of my favourite items though thankfully I did have plenty of fabric nappies and disposables for us to enjoy. Terry wasted no time on checking each pile out but I saw him settle on the mound of thick fabric nappies and looked guiltily over at me. “Do you think I could try one of these...?” I saw the hopeful look on his face and there seemed a touch of desperation in his voice. I nodded and there was that little sigh I’d heard on a couple of occasions now.

#

Susan was pleased to reconnect with her university colleagues, particularly Laura Mohammad (formerly Asquith), who had pursued a degree in psychology and now operated her own practice. Laura's husband, Dr. Mandip Mohammad, serves as a consultant psychiatrist at the city's primary hospital; whilst being ten years her senior, they have two children and appear settled and content. Susan learned these details within minutes of meeting her friend while waiting for their table at a local bistro.

After catching up with a glass of excellent chilled Chablis and ordering lunch, Susan brought up the issue that was troubling her. She described her son’s anxiety-related incontinence and the intense pressure he placed on himself to achieve high marks in his recent exams. As they enjoyed their starter—smoked trout pâté served with chunks of roasted, virgin olive oil infused sourdough bread—Susan transitioned the conversation to the deal involving the pharmacist, explaining how matters had deteriorated, particularly concerning John’s ongoing struggles with his daily soggy routine.

Laura was used to people picking her brains for an insight into a ‘friends’ troubled mind. However, Susan had the good grace to inform her beforehand that she was looking for someone to send John to and hoped by discussing it, she’d see how much her bedwetting son needed help.

Laura listened and was quite shocked just how far the pharmacist and Susan had gone before actually calling in ‘proper’ help. She was also enthralled at just how much John had enjoyed his job as guinea pig and at how easily he’d immersed himself in every aspect of the ‘research’. They were telling actions that she was surprised her friend hadn’t picked up on. Unknown to Susan her friend had made an early judgement but, without meeting John in person it was purely built on what his mother revealed. Nonetheless, there may have been other areas that needed investigating so a face to face was required.

To Susan’s great relief Laura agreed for John to become a client and set aside an early, after-hours session, as a first step. Once that was settled the couple enjoyed the shared duck, shallot and stilton pasta and ordered a second bottle of their favourite tipple. The ‘girls’ were relishing a bit of gossip as they had an awful lot more to catch up on.

Meanwhile, back at the house John had a sudden awareness.

# tbc #

 

Part 10

I was fascinated by Terry’s eagerness to get his pants off. He was quite correct about his disposable not lasting for much longer as his suddenly visibly ample crotch revealed a very scrunched-up, dirty and much maligned piece of disintegrating material.

“Christ Terry, what the hell have you been up to?” I asked incredulously at the messy sight.

He looked at me as if I was stupid. “I’m sixteen, what do you thing I’ve been doing?”

I did feel stupid because, although I’d had fun in a nappy, that hadn’t been my main reason for wearing one. I wondered if that was all he wanted to wear one for and if so...?

“Oh yer... sorry... of course... um...” It looked like the poor saggy thing had suffered more than a few hours of nonstop abuse.

He grabbed one of the fleecy fabric nappies and with some degree of affection ran his hand over the soft material. There was that gentle sigh again and then he offered it to me. Once I had it in my hand, he began to shuffle down that disgusting piece of fabric and stood naked in anticipation.

It was weird that I should have felt sorry for an inanimate object but, that poor disposable must have had a torrid time. Terry appeared to have no shame just a wish to get on with things.

“Look,” he shrugged, “you’re going to have to put it on me because I’m not sure I’ll get it right.” He looked embarrassed by his request but the fact was, a fabric nappy did take skill in the first instance. “I don’t want to do it wrong and have it falling down every time I move.”

This was a considered approach from my best mate. Obviously, his past attempts at wearing a makeshift nappy had been unsuccessful and was relying on me to make it work properly for him – me being a professional in this area.

This was Terry taking command of the situation but still all he wanted was to wear a nappy. He was being bossy but patiently eyeing a huge piece of fabric that once applied would reduce him to either looking like a pants-wetter or a huge baby. I wasn’t even sure why he wanted to try a fabric nappy with all the work and pins involved in getting it ready. Yet, it seemed Terry was eager to try and raring to go.

Since he’d mentioned his desire to wear a nappy, and after our discussion before, the fact he was here and enthusiastic shouldn’t have come as a surprise and yet it had - this was after all Terry. There was absolutely no way I would have imagined we’d be at this point with his naked body and copious dangly bits waving about in front of me. As I say, in gym or games at school I’ve seen him (as well as all the other boys in class) naked so that wasn’t a surprise but what we were about to do was... and... I got a little nervous about this giant step.

He wasn’t on drugs (well at least I didn’t think so) but this was going to take our friendship to a completely different level, well that’s how I saw it.

#

“What time do you think your mum and dad’ll be back?”

“Well, dad’s at work so won’t be home until around seven and mum said she’d be out for lunch so don’t expect her to be back until around two or three-ish.”

“Fantastic, that gives us quite a bit of time. C’mon let’s get started.” He seemed impatient to get going. “You’re ready, mind you, I s’pose you’re always ready.” He smirked at the fact my nappy was struggling under my plastic pants but... I s’pose he was correct.

“OK, lie out,” it was time to get this operation underway. Of course, I’d been changing my own nappy for quite some time but I still loved it when mum stepped up and did it for me as it always felt different, more secure. At the same time, I wondered if halfway through he’d suddenly get cold feet and hurry off home but, well, for the moment, he was down on the makeshift changing mat and ready for me to do my best at nappying him.

A shiver ran through my body as I took in the sight. Here was my best friend, who in many ways I looked up to, naked as the day he was born and waiting, to what was basically, to be babied. He wasn’t incontinent and as far as I knew wasn’t planning on being so and yet he wanted a thick, fabric nappy surrounding his more than ample private parts, which at that moment were hardly private. Whereas, I now had no pubic hair, his was like a large, tangled forest and I wondered if he’d eventually shave it off or if that would be a step too far.

Once he was laid out in front of me the cocky and ‘in charge’ Terry I’d always known seemed to fade away. There was a toy car on the floor, which he picked up and held in fascination, whilst I pulled the other aspects of wearing a nappy together – cream, powder, linings, soaker pads and pins. His facial expression changed and he became absorbed in the toy he was inspecting. This was exactly like he was when sucking on that FruitiZucker and we acted like big kids. It was as if, now it was happening, he could let Terry the teen go and slip into being Terry the toddler. I couldn’t avoid thinking that those drugged dummies might still be having some residual effect on us because, although I was approaching my naked buddy seriously, there were a few giggles just below the surface. This was a serene moment in my life and one I just couldn’t have imagined, under normal circumstances, ever happening and yet...

However, since the phone call that got him here it had all been such a rush that I hadn’t had time to clean myself up. So, I was crouching down and folding the fabric whilst the wet material of my own night time sogginess rubbed at my sensitive parts. I ran my hands briefly over my plastic pants and strangely that calmed me but brought another thought into my head. I paused because I really wasn’t sure what I was doing was right. I mean, I had a reason to wear protection but Terry just wanted to for, I assumed, the fun of wearing one. The thing was, at that moment all I could see was my naked best mate who, for his own reasons, was desperate to wear a nappy. So, despite my doubts, who was I to say no.

#

I treated Terry exactly the same way I’d take care of myself in that I cleaned the area first. I had some wet wipes nearby so started with them, he giggled at their coolness as I wiped around and over his imposing cock and balls. It wasn’t a procedure that I needed to drag out and although we were both giggling, I was still a little embarrassed, so grabbed for the cream, rubbed it in and showered the area with talc. I mentioned that he would probably need to get rid of his pubes if he was serious but that was met by a simple chuckle. The huge puff of powder brought on a bit of coughing as some of the cloud went into his nose and throat. Once his spluttering had stopped, I was able to grab the corners of the fabric, making sure it was loaded with both an extra soaker pad and nappy liner and drag them together and held them securely with a couple of large safety pins.  

The reality of what we were doing lodged in my head with each little piece of action. The material of the nappy was soft and fleecy and there was that sigh again as I’d wrapped it around and pinned it into place. He liked the plastic duck safety pin feature and was eager and helpful when I flapped out a pair of shiny baby blue plastic pants and eased them up his legs. He wriggled giggling as they slipped over the bulky padding and smoothed into place. I can’t quite explain how incredible he looked, the transformation, well, not exactly into a tot but to a muscular teenager wearing padding, it was simply an amazing sight.

I remembered I still had a pale blue onesie so went and grabbed that from the wardrobe, Terry hadn’t moved. He waited until I returned and I pulled him to his feet and told him, “Hands up”, which he did and I was able to shimmy it down his torso. Remarkably it fit him tightly but looked great so clicked the press-studs between his legs together and that held his cumbersome protection in place.

“There.” I stood back to admire my work and caught him checking himself out in the mirror. Then he did something quite spontaneous – he hugged me in a way that we’ve never interacted before. I mean we’ve hugged before but this was more of a cuddle... if you see the difference... and it was a wonderful experience. There was a weird, yet grateful, intensity that I’d previously never encountered. A warmth and appreciation that held me tightly for longer than I expected – it felt really good. Another sigh escaped him as we held each other and perhaps unsurprisingly, we were both patting each other’s padded bottoms as if in reassurance. Whether that was of comfort, support or thanks I wasn’t sure but it felt real and at that moment I don’t think I’d ever felt closer to anyone.

#

Terry looked splendid. I know, I know, a sixteen-year-old, in a nappy and onesie, who am I kidding but to me, there was just something about it all that ‘clicked’ and everything made sense. However, I’d been wearing my wet night time nappy for far too long and it was beginning to itch a little.  

“Look, let me get some toys out for you to play with... and then I’ll change myself as this wet stuff is getting a bit much.” I indicated my very droopy padding.

His face beamed when I opened the toy chest, which had been sat in the corner since our last ‘drug fuelled’ playtime. As he set about searching for something to occupy his time I checked the time, it was after ten and reckoned we’d have, to be on the safe side, at most three hours before mum might return home. So I quickly stripped out of my stuff, rushed to the bathroom and wiped myself down with a warm soaked flannel and returned drying myself with a towel.

I was quite unprepared to see that Terry had laid out a very childish print disposable and a pair of thick pink plastic pants with cats chasing a ball of wool all over them. I’d forgotten I had that particular design but was unexpectedly delighted to see it again. He’d also set about getting my old Scalextric set fitted together and was running tracks in a figure eight.

“You want me to wear these?” I needlessly asked.

He cheerfully shrugged and continued building the race track.

“I wish we had one of those dummies,” he mumbled as he worked putting pieces together.

“Yer, maybe, but... I don’t have any and I’m not sure they were good for us.”

“Hmmmm,” he replied but didn’t take his thoughts any further.

He barely looked in my direction as I applied the various creams and powder before wrapping myself in the rather cute disposable and taping myself tightly in. I then climbed into the pink plastic pants he’d got ready for me and felt the smoothness slip up my thighs which give me the tingle I got every time I wore a fresh nappy. I think it had something to do with the way the slippery material pulled the entire thing together in that strangely comforting hug. Or it could be the fact that the pink plastic pants had broad waist and leg bands which gripped tightly, encasing everything in pretty securely. The stretched plastic seemed extra glossy under the sunlight coming in through the window.

#

We hadn’t known it at the time but on the last occasion we’d done this we were as high as kites on our FruitiZuckers so behaving childishly had come as a result of that rather strange but liberating experience. Just why it had affected us in such a manner we didn’t know but mum said we were really deep into toddlerhood. She’d admitted to both dad and me that she found the entire scenario strange but sweet and unbelievably engaging, not having seen either of us so happy for quite some time. Apparently, our inhibitions were down and all we thought about was playing and having fun, and for some reason, best known to herself, she didn’t want to spoil the moment, even though she probably knew something was not quite right. However, this was now and we were about to recreate that moment but without the help of drugs (or dummies). Then again, this was Terry’s idea and although we looked the part we weren’t already in that particular zone for play, or at least, at that moment I didn’t think we were. Terry was shuffling around on hands and knees and definitely looking more toddler than teen. It occurred to me that what would have made this moment even better, was to be sucking on a dummy... now I saw what he had been getting at... the complete experience.

I watched as he clicked the last few pieces of track into position. He was shuffling around my room and I have to say, even without a dummy, he looked every inch like a big kid. Indeed, as a recreation of the last time, apart from that lack of dummies, we both assumed the roles of toddlers one and two.

I scrambled to plug in the electricity supply and pulled out the box of race cars and asked which he wanted.

“Red”

I had another three cars available and decided on a blue one, slipped them both onto the track and then handed him a controller. We could have done this any time, on any day and had the privacy of my bedroom to play Scalextric which we hadn’t done for several years (I just hoped it would all still work). After all we were growing up and didn’t need toys. But why then were we dressed as kids... and then it hit me, or so I thought... once again, maybe this was Terry’s weird way of being supportive to the fact I had to wear a nappy and this was one way he could offer that support. But then, although that reasoning made a little bit of sense, it didn’t explain his desire for wearing a nappy or playing with kid’s toys. I wasn’t sure how to bring up my obvious concerns because, surprise, surprise, he pressed the controller and his car zoomed off at great speed. That took my mind off any other thoughts and pressing hard on my own controller saw my blue car zip around the first corner. His came off at the second bend and he scrambled around on hands and knees to put it back on track. I zoomed into the lead. I was concentrating on not losing momentum when mine spun off so I rushed to put it back. The noise of our plastic pants as we scurried around matching the noise of our racing cars as they careered around the circuit.

“First to 20 laps” Terry shouted excitedly.

There was no denying it we were both deep in concentration but enjoying the exhilaration of the race.

#

The race kept getting longer—40, 60, even 100 laps—and with every increase in speed, our cars flew off the track more often as our competitive excitement grew. We scrambled to pick them up, and since we were both wearing nappies, anyone watching (though there wasn’t anyone) might have observed we looked like two overgrown, carefree kids just enjoying ourselves. We made screeching car noises, shouted encouragement, and playfully teased each other when a car wouldn’t start right away, but it was all in good fun—just two close friends trying to provoke laughter, like always. For context, we spoke more like teenagers than little kids, though some of the terms we used were definitely on the ‘childish’ side.

I s’pose to any onlooker it was amazing how quick and easily we slipped into being kids again; not least because of the way we were dressed. Perhaps wearing a nappy was the spur, the catalyst, to the way our brains just seemed to accept that being a toddler was the way to be. I can’t express it any other way, despite knowing, and seeing, we were both sixteen-year-olds, there was another part that simply said, ‘relax, it’s not important, enjoy the situation’.

I had to wear protection, Terry chose to wear protection, whatever was going on, in those moments, I was too deep into the competition to ponder too much on it.

We giggled, complained, swapped cars, called each other cheats but both of us wished the track was much larger that went all around the room. Alas it was really just a figure eight but we still screeched in delight as our cars hurtled around the circuit. I’m not sure but maybe because we were wearing nappies it seemed more fun but for the life of me, I couldn’t tell you why.

We were definitely in the ‘zone’, our enjoyment of the situation was obvious and I have to say... it felt incredible.

When we got bored of racing cars Terry raided my old toy box and found many old stuffed animals there and pulled them all out. He asked their names and like had happened before I was surprised just how strongly the memories came flooding back.

Halfway through naming them I could see how intensely my best mate was following what I said because there were several ‘awes’ and ‘ahs’ as I mentioned how old they were and what they meant to me.

Suddenly, I snapped out of being a toddler and back to being a teenager and couldn’t believe that Terry remained a big kid. He’d showed no signs of acting a part, or perhaps as I thought, dressing for my benefit to make me feel more at ease wearing padding. No, he was lost in whatever toddlerdom he’d invented for himself. It was both weird and pleasing because he looked so content.

I nudged him, “How’s the nappy?”

He just rubbed the front of his bulging onesie and beamed, “Nice”.

Once again, I began to wonder why it was so easy to slip back to being a nappy-wearing tot; was this really sixteen-year-old Terry Jackson, was I really John Benedict teenager at large? How come wearing a nappy felt so right?

#

However, when I was thinking as a teenager the mind-slips between sixteen and toddler began to hang heavy. Again, I wondered if the drugs in those FruitiZuckers had fired a deep-seated need or had actually changed our mental state? If so, was this a permanent change or temporary and why, of all people, had it affected Terry so easily? I wondered if he could switch back to being a teenager once playtime was over. Would he want it to be over? These grown-up thoughts had temporarily invaded my head but then one look at my best mate, seeing how gloriously happy he appeared and I was swept back into being (and playing) like a toddler once more.

Having said all that - did it apply to me - because once I started getting all those items to review, I’d given into wearing a nappy (and everything else) very easily. This had been a recurring thought in recent days but was now hanging heavy like every other thought that entered my head. Had it been a steady trickle of mental manipulation that had altered my brain? I had baulked at dad wanting to get rid of everything and despite myself had clung desperately to my range of nappies and disposables. I simply wasn’t prepared to let them all go and I wasn’t sure it was because I knew I needed them. I’d convinced myself that was the case but what if... what if... I’d somehow been programmed in another way to accept that wearing a nappy and kiddie clothes was for me. What if this is all I can expect from now on? These worrying thoughts made me shiver but amazingly just as quickly they faded as I immersed myself in yet another round of ‘plushies versus dinosaurs’ with Terry.

Terry was loving being a big kid. It didn’t seem like he was playing a part, he was just playing. I mean, despite him wearing a onesie over his nappy, I could tell that he’d wet it but he hadn’t stopped and hadn’t acknowledged that’s what had happened. The thing was, when my mind let me, I was having fun acting the kid. However, more and more were these other thoughts suddenly breaking into the fun making me think differently – so, what the hell was going on?

Terry’s interest in wanting to wear a nappy had been a surprise. Even after he knew I wore one his curiosity seemed non-existent though thankfully he kept the knowledge about me to himself. I knew the drugged dummy was the reason he’d wore one that first time but today... what was going on inside his head? Dressed as he was now, playing and being a kid, he looked completely detached from being Terry the self-assured teen I knew.

One of the things that did happen, and I liked quite a lot, was the affection he showed. We hugged and patted each other’s padded bottoms with remarkable regularity and snuggled closer together when playing some games. It never got sexual, or if it did, it certainly didn’t feel that way. It was like we were back to being innocent little kids who were the bestest of friends... like we were.

#

Terry’s nappy was wet and I could feel the warming glow in mine, a quick glance at the clock read 13:24, and to be on the safe side, I thought it was probably time to start winding things up. For me it wouldn’t have been a problem but knew Terry didn’t want anyone to know about any of this.

“I think we better start changing back to....” I hinted at the clock on my bedside table.

“Oh, no, no, pwease... just a few more minutes...” He pouted hopefully but in such a cute childish way that sent yet another tingle up my spine. For a second, I thought he’d ‘gone’, you know, become a toddler, I just wasn’t sure any more.

“Erm, I don’t know how soon mum will be home... umm, you don’t want her seeing you like this do you?”

I could see tears begin to form and suddenly wondered if there might be a tantrum brewing but no, no tears fell he just looked so unhappy. I put my arm around him and he hugged me back. Again, we patted each other’s wet bulges, the soft plastic crinkle reminding us we had that extra layer of protection.

“Look, you’ve wet your nappy so, do you want to change back?” Then I remembered he’d arrived in a rather tatty disposable under his jeans, so would need a replacement. “Can you change yourself or would you rather I do it?”

He nodded, so for the second time I cleaned him up; oiled, powdered and slipped him into a very cosy, animal print disposable. He loved the swish and rustle as the disposable was fixed. In fact, he asked me to slow down, as if he was savouring each moment. He sighed that sigh that I’d come to recognise as his way of feeling content, as I slowly slid the pair of slinky plastic pants up his legs and over the padding – he was squirming in happiness. Once that was complete and he’d checked himself out in the mirror I passed him his jeans and added I was going off to change as I felt a bit waterlogged myself.

“Do you want me to have a go?” Was not a question I expected, nor was I certain he was serious.

“Er, no, it’s OK I’ll sort myself out...”

I saw him shrug.

“Unless you really want to?” I shrugged back.

“Well Johnny, it’s been one of those days hasn’t it and I feel I owe you for all you’ve done for me... and besides... I need to learn if I want to wear more often.”

Despite the knowledge that under his jeans he was wearing a rather thick and nicely tight-fitting disposable you wouldn’t have known that just minutes earlier he was playing at being a big kid. It was an incredible but immediate shift and he was back to being his usual, in charge, self.

“So, this isn’t a one off then? You plan on more nappy days.” I tested light-heartedly. He took in a deep breath and nodded as he indicated the empty changing mat.

“Lie out whilst I flick through some of these disposables and see which I think would suit you best...” I could hear him humming to himself as once again he sorted through the piles of stuff I had on the dresser top.

I lay back; I could feel the nappy sag under the weight and knew he was in for a surprise. My morning liquid intake had blended into a very colourful stain and hefty mass that I knew would be an interesting departure for him seeing as he’d not had to deal with such a thing before. Or so I assumed.

“OK,” he said waving a pair of baby blue plastic pants with kittens running around in one hand and a rather thick baby blue disposable. “These will just look perfect on you. So, let’s get sorted, shall we?”

I took a deep breath and I think so did he.

“Right, let’s get your adorable pink plastic pants down first and then I can see the damage.”

I lay flat out and let him get on with it as all the other equipment needed was already within arm’s reach.

#

Before he started, he ran his hands over his padded jeans and smiled at the slight bulge that he was wearing. He then ran his hand over my significant shiny bulge and smiled the most pleasing of smiles before adding.

“I don’t know how often I want to do this but I have to say that wearing a nappy makes me feel... happy I s’pose.” Then he got down to business and pulled off my pink plastic pants to be confronted by, “But of course, the down side to that feeling is this.” And he ran his hand over my lumpy, well-soaked disposable and sniffed at the slight urine odour coming off.

“Uuurggghhh,” he shivered.

“If you can’t deal with that,” I mumbled as I also ran my hand over the now cumbersome material, “then perhaps it’s not for you.”

“Well, let’s see shall we...” and tugged everything off exposing my rather damp groin. “In a nappy or out... and with no pubes... you definitely look like a little kid.” He joked as he pointed to my clammy and shrunken manhood.

Despite the fact we giggled a bit as he started the procedure, I was quite taken with just how serious he took the job. He was precise and checked in if he was uncertain but in general did a good job. The thing was, as I watched him, I began to wonder at how he was able to switch so quickly and seamlessly from being a tot back to being himself. Was I able to do that? Was I already doing that? There were some gaps in my memory as to just how I reacted to my surroundings.

“Ermm,” I ventured, “how often do you think you’ll want to do this?”

“What, wipe your sweet little cock?” He chuckled.

“No, no, you know... wear a nappy or act like a little kid. I mean...” I stumbled quickly to a halt in my interrogation as he pulled the fresh disposable tightly up between my legs. He saw me flinch and grimaced a sort of ‘sorry’ look but carried on.

“I have no idea but, since the first time whilst sucking on that dummy...well... I don’t know, there was something about the situation that just sort of connected. I mean...” he paused as if really trying to put a reason in place that he could understand himself. “Whatever happened at that time has just stuck with me as being something I wanted to visit again and again. I’ve tried to reason the thing out, explain it to myself but all that happens is my head becomes full of nappies, plastic pants and such nonsense yet it starts a craving that I’ve had to indulge.” He shrugged as if he couldn’t quite comprehend the circumstances himself. “Thanks to you, and your needs, I have someone I can share that with, even if it is for different purposes.”

“Do you blame me for that?” I sighed feeling perhaps it was all my fault

“No, not really because, well, you’ve been open about what you need and what you’ve been getting out of all this ‘baby stuff’.” I nearly baulked at that term wondering if he saw something else that maybe I hadn’t been aware of but he added. “You need it to contain your weak bladder or whatever, I think I need it as a route to some previously undiscovered... erm... desire.” There was the hint of a smile, “I think I find the idea exciting, maybe even dangerous but don’t know why it still appeals to me.” Then he added as an afterthought, “Maybe I’m just kinky?”

 

We spoke on the subject further and Terry seemed quite content that he was at the start of something he had no idea where it might lead. Even the thought of his mother finding out was a worry he said he’d cope, “If and when the time came”. I had to keep telling myself that this was Terry – TERRY – someone I’d known for ages, but this just wasn’t the person I knew, except for that determination I recognised from many projects and games we’d started together. Whatever drugs had been in those FruitiZuckers had they affected him more than... erm... but then, that was something I only assumed because I had no idea how many others (or even if there were others) who were given those calming and baby-retro treats.

He said that he hoped I’d need nappies for ages yet so he had a mate to explore things with but realised that was being selfish. I didn’t say anything, just smiled, but I’d been wearing nappies now for some time and I’d always felt like I was the only sixteen-year-old who had to wear them. Now there was someone else, I wasn’t alone and perhaps, well, I just hoped for better things. Unfortunately, with the police involved, the entire thing, like my morning nappy, was a mess.

Anyway, to help him sort out just what it was he thought he needed I let him go home with a few fabric nappies plus a couple of pairs of plastic pants just minutes before mum arrived home in a taxi. The timing couldn’t have been better because she would have no idea what had taken place as the evidence was now in a used nappy bin. However, it felt strange having Terry’s secret but one I was determined to keep.

“Hi mum, had a good lunch?” I wandered into the kitchen and pecked her on the cheek. She smiled and slyly patted my padded bum before adding something to the kitchen diary on the wall calendar.

I looked at what she’d just written and noticed that I had an appointment with ‘Laura’ in a couple of days’ time. It appeared to be on the same day I got my exam results.

“Yes love, thank you, we had a lovely meal... we caught up and of course we chatted a lot about...” she looked cheekily at me and then cast her eyes down to my bulging nappy-revealing crotch, and I was carrying Terry’s wet fabric nappy to the washing machine, “guess who?”

# tbc #

Part 11

We still hadn’t heard anything from the police about the case, or even whether they were investigating it—everything had gone completely silent. While there hadn’t been much change in that respect, we remained desperate to uncover what had truly happened and why. Surely the drugged dummies were cause for major alarm. The lack of progress was frustrating, yet I was still having to deal with the ongoing effects in my head: strange sensations, difficulty controlling my bladder, and occasional messy accidents—all of which were making things so much worse.

Despite that, over the next couple of days I met up with my mates and all we could talk about were the up-and-coming exam results and what we anticipated. At times the conversation and expectations were quite depressing, even if we were in the middle of a game of footie you could tell most of our minds were elsewhere.

Gary and the guys who’d witnessed the ‘FruitiZucker Influenced’ madness a few days earlier had decided, thanks to some clever deflecting by Terry, that it was a wind-up of epic proportions and that my admission to wearing a nappy was just part of the piss-take they had been convinced it was. This made an encounter with all my school mates that much less of a confrontation because, even though I could feel the padding under my pants, thankfully, no one brought it up.

Finally, the time had come - 8:00am and the school hall was already full of eager, scared, depressed, lively, joking faces all trying to suppress their worries. I’d never seen so many bottles of water being nervously sipped (so I wasn’t alone in needing something to alleviate my anxiety) as the teachers finally brought in the files which contained our grades.

The place went strangely quiet when the first name was called to receive their envelope. Everyone waited to see Angelina Aaronson walk up to the desk as if she was about to get a life sentence, which perhaps she was, and receive her future-defining envelope. Another name was called in another area of the hall and the same thing happened but eventually the calm erupted into screams and tears of excitement, joy and upset, as each student opened their sealed results to see whether their years of work had paid off.  

Those who were pretending to be casual and indifferent were actually full of nervous tension, it was etched on everyone’s face. That telling gulp of water, the nervous shiver of anticipation, the absolute fear that this was a crucial point in their lives was...

“Benedict, John.”

My observations were interrupted as I tentatively walked up to the desk where Mr Twistleton handed me a brown envelope. He nodded positively, which raised my hopes a bit but I have to admit not only did I tremble as I took it from his outstretched hand, I nervously peed into my tight-fitting nappy. Each nervy sip of water now making itself known down there. At the hall’s entrance I noticed Terry had just arrived so, as I didn’t want to be alone when I opened my envelope, I made my way over.

I could feel the warmth spreading in the padding and was glad that I’d come prepared wearing a very compact and robust pair of blue plastic pants holding and hugging my groin in a tight grip. Terry nodded and smiled as I nudged him and took a deep breath. I couldn’t tell if he was wearing but I was sure as hell glad I was.

“Bloody hell, this is scary” I said as I broke the seal and read my scores whilst at the same time showing them to my best mate. I needn’t have worried – my grades were high and I’d passed each subject with ease. I’d just got a congratulatory pat on the bum (he smiled when he did it) when Terry’s name was called and he wondered over to receive his daunting brown envelope. Meanwhile, I was jubilant. After all the pee-filled mornings and anxiety-laden thoughts, I needn’t have worried. All that I hoped for I got and strangely, another spurt of pee filled the front of my nappy. I wasn’t sure if this was the correct way to react but it felt pleasing... and relieving.

#

Although the noise had increased as the excitement or disappointment at receiving results had caused, my mind spiked (?) and the room was suddenly plunged into silence as for a few moments all around everyone was wearing nappies of some description. It was a weird ‘flash’ as my fellow students were happily going about their business with clearly visible padding, drinking from baby bottles or with dummies though no one was reacting any differently. It was as if this was an official school uniform and therefore completely standard.

This was something new. I dreamt such a scenario at night but never had such a ‘vision’ in the daytime.  What could it mean?

I was returned to reality as pressure on my shoulder from my mate Damian made his presence felt.

“Now then fuckerrrr, how’ve you done?” He was waving his results in front of my face.

He peered over my shoulder where mine could clearly be seen and gave them a quick squint before commenting loudly.

“Fuckin’ hell Johnny, well done, but it does mean you can’t come to my house for at least a month.”

I shrugged as I saw his grades. “Not bad!”

“No, I thought they were pretty good but, hell, yours put mine to shame and if my parents find out they’ll think I haven’t tried... so you’re banned.” With that he punched my shoulder and disappeared into the hubbub.

My brief incredible ‘vision’ was just that, all too brief, and everything was now disappointingly back to routine. How or why, that had suddenly entered my head I had no idea but for that instant I felt incredibly joyous. It was like my good grades had made everything perfect but, nope, it was just an aberration, a blip of the mind. Oh well, now it was a return to school life as I noticed Terry standing looking a bit glum.

I wandered over to him, “Any good?”  

He looked at me and shook his head. “Mum’s gonna kill me.” I saw a slight tremble run through the piece of paper he was holding. “Yep, definitely gonna kill me”.

I intended to express some sympathy, but the atmosphere in the hall was filled with people who were either thrilled or disappointed. The lively chatter and excitement, as friends—and even casual acquaintances—gathered to compare their grades, it had all become quite intense. I did the silliest of things; I shrugged and patted Terry’s bum... but alas, disappointingly he wasn’t wearing padding. For some reason I suddenly felt that I’d lost my playmate and all the happiness of receiving my fantastic grades just seconds earlier, just ebbed away and I felt isolated despite all that clamour and exhilaration.

#

Suddenly we were surrounded by friends who were keen to check our scores. Terry’s mates were hardly sympathetic, being more jock than academic, and laughed at his poor grades with pats on the back and predictions that he would do well “another time”. A few people had heard about my results and were equally keen to give me their opinion on what a “bloody teacher’s pet” I was and one even enquiring who I’d “sucked off” to get such good grades. They were joking but still some of their jocular barbs were hurtful, although I tried not to let that show. I wasn’t going to appear a wuss, despite wearing an increasingly soggy nappy.

One of the teachers came up to congratulate me and all I could see behind his back were my ‘mates’ smiling, pulling faces and doing licking and sucking motions and mouthing the words “was it him?”

After a few more minutes, the uncomfortable sensation of my nappy—now far too saturated to ignore—became impossible to put out of mind. Making a show of it, I glanced theatrically at my watch and announced to no one in particular that I needed to leave. By then, Terry was fully engrossed with his mates, his earlier glumness completely replaced by laughter and easy banter within the noisy throng. Around us, other students had finished comparing their results and were beginning to drift towards the exit of the hall. I slipped into their number, exchanging the occasional comment or receiving a congratulatory pat on the back from those who recognised me as I made my way out.

The contrast between the clamorous excitement of the hall and the calm of the outside world was striking, and, after such an intense event, I found the relative solitude and quiet rather welcome. I was glowing at the validation of all my hard work and sleepless nights of study had paid off. I had tried very, very hard to get ahead with my diligent and exhausting revision. Thankfully, the grades were so much better than I expected and my thoughts turned to what was to be my next educational step. However, my immediate concern was the state of my nappy; it was reaching capacity, and I worried that even the sturdy cover might not be enough to prevent a mishap if I didn’t get home soon. Not a good look for an A+ student. With that urgency in mind, I hurried along, eager for the comfort and relief of a change.

#

During the excitement of getting my results I’d all but forgotten that later I had an appointment with my mum’s friend - the mysterious Laura. I knew she was a psychiatrist, because mum had wondered for a while if my wetting wasn’t psychosomatic or some such thing, but, as it wasn’t getting any better, wanted to have a professional opinion on its cause; she hadn’t thought much of Doctor Answah’s diagnostic skills.

Mum reassured me that Doctor Mohammad was ‘a lovely woman’, ‘very helpful’ and ‘highly respected in her field’, so there was no reason to be nervous. She encouraged me to share anything that might be on my mind with her. Although I wasn’t sure if there was much left to say that Mum hadn’t already mentioned, I figured I’d just wait and see. In some ways, I was genuinely curious about her approach since I’d never experienced psychoanalysis before—or at least, I don’t think I have.

As I opened the front door mum was waiting expectantly and greeted me with a hug.

“How’s it gone sweetheart?” Her obvious interest clearly visible in her eager expression.

“Pretty good,” and passed her the page with my grades.

She hugged me even tighter (forcing another unintentional spurt of pee into my already sodden nappy) “This is fantastic darling,” she said reading my brilliant scores again. “Well done. Your father will be over the moon. We’re both so proud of you...” 

The praise went on but I was desperate for her to let me go and change.

“Mum,” I eventually freed myself from her loving squeeze. “I need to... you know... have a change. I’m soaked with all the excitement and everything.”

“Of course, love, sorry but we don’t often get chance to celebrate achievements... though I think we should with this...”

“OK, that would be great but let me change first.”

“Okay love, I’ll call your dad and let him know, see if he can get off a bit earlier and then we’ll all go out for a celebratory meal. I’ll book a restaurant for tonight... it’ll be fun.”

As I rushed upstairs, I shouted back not to forget my appointment with Doctor Mohammad.

“No worries love... I have it all in hand.”

#

After the excitement and frenzy of the morning, the quiet of the psychiatrist’s waiting room was calming. Mum was next to me (I hadn’t known she would be coming with me although I should have guessed) as I wriggled a little uncomfortably wearing my fresh, though very thick nappy and slippery rubber pants. She wanted to make sure that if I had an accident whilst ‘on the couch’ then it would be taken care of, she was taking no chances.

Mum wanted me to look my best so, as it was a pleasantly warm early afternoon, I decided on a pair of loose blue linen trousers and a loose white linen shirt that hung over my waistband hiding any obvious bulge. She made sure my hair was ‘just so’ and demanded I have a shave (which I barely need) and put on some of dad’s aftershave. By the time she’d got me ready, although I looked smart (and adult), I wasn’t feeling too comfy because over the past few weeks I was used to wearing a jumper or just a t-shirt with loose shorts over my nappies and that cozy comfort suited me best.

However, sitting in the waiting room I found myself wriggling around to the low background music because my pants, nappy and plastic pants were conspiring to make a slight squeak as I moved. I didn’t realise I was doing it at first until mum told me to stop fidgeting but by then I was enjoying myself, lost in the silliness of just having childish fun making a noise. Needless to say, the waiting room had others sitting around as there were a number of offices on this floor with various medical and psychological doctor’s names on the doors.

A young boy, probably around six or seven, smiled at me and wiggled along with my movements. He wore shorts and a Spider-Man t-shirt—exactly the outfit I would have chosen if given the chance. His mother, much like mine, was elegantly dressed, although she was absorbed in a fashion magazine and had earbuds in, seemingly unbothered by her son’s interaction with me. Of course, I doubted if he was wearing any padding but it was pleasing that he was having fun reflecting what I was doing. However, the receptionist called out a name and, after a short rearrangement of her dress and his hair, they both disappeared into another room further along the corridor but not before he waved at me. I felt a little bonding had taken place which I was really quite pleased about.

Two minutes later, Doctor Mohammad came over to mum and me, greeted us warmly, and let us know our turn was next. She guided us down the corridor and as we passed the room the young lad had entered, I tried to catch snippets of conversation but couldn’t hear anything; nonetheless, I silently wished him all the best.

#

Her office was large but unassuming. I had expected a leather couch on which I would be asked to lie out but that didn’t exist as part of this psychiatrist’s upholstery... maybe that was only used for TV and movie shrinks? It was more laid out like our living room with a sofa and two comfy chairs and a small coffee table. There was a desk and a high-backed leather chair at one side where I suppose she worked from but, all-in-all, not too intimidating at first glance. Doctor Laura introduced herself and said that her and mum had talked quite a bit about my ‘problem’ and she was hoping, if that was okay by me, to help if she could. We weren’t under any time restriction as I was her last patient of the day and for me to relax.

Despite beginning easily enough with questions about school, my results (congrats all round), social life, friends and ambitions, eventually came the main point - the origins of my problem – she asked THE question - “Could I pinpoint the moment it all started?”

Now it was all official, that was the moment the well-being I’d experienced in the waiting room began slipping away and any insecurities and anxieties I thought I’d left at home descended like a cloak to engulf my mind. It was with this one simple enquiry that I suffered the first of many spurts of nervous pee into my ‘thankfully’ thick protection. It was like I was the thing I hoped I wasn’t – that little bed-wetting kid who couldn’t cope. This was ridiculous. I’d worn protective padding, disposables, plastic pants and all manner of other things, not only that but I’ve reviewed them without so much as a worry but now, at this moment, with a proper psychiatrist, my confidence deserted me.

#

Mum tried to fill in the silences when my brain and mouth just stopped engaging. When I did try to put things into words there were a lot of errs, umms, and stammering, which made me sound like a two-year-old and not the clever, super-graded sixteen-year-old I really was.

“Look mum,” Doctor Laura looked to mum, “do you mind if just John and I chatted alone for a bit, just to see if I can loosen his tongue?” Although desperate to stay she knew when to retreat and said, “Of course Doctor,” and emphasised the word though I wasn’t sure if that was a hit at her or a reminder to me. Still, she picked up her handbag and left saying she was just outside “if needed”.

Once we were alone Laura came and sat nearer to me.

“Johnny, John,” Her perfume was light but very nice, she looked businesslike and stunning all at the same time. She oozed well-being and nurture and I liked her but her eyes pierced mine and I couldn’t do anything but hold her gaze. Now alone, there was something about her look, her authority, her reassurance and an understanding that meant I could and indeed should tell her everything.

“Look, your mother has told me about the reviews that you’ve enjoyed writing but that’s not where we need to start.”

She patted my hand and saw that I flushed and then she asked quite amiably. “Are you wet now?” I almost started to hyperventilate but she kept patting my hand and told me to take a few deep breaths. She said that it didn’t matter if I was, she only wanted to make sure I was comfortable, No one was judging me and all would be well.

“I know that certain things can embarrass a lad your age and I’m not trying to make you say anything you don’t think is relevant BUT,” and I could see she was talking to the sixteen-year-old me and not the dumbstruck toddler I seemed to have become. “Tell me about how it felt when you were returned to nappies after what, ten years or more?”

#

I sat there trying to get my thoughts in some semblance but the technique was evading me. Laura moved over to her desk and tapped a wooden object that began to slowly tick to a slow rhythm.

“Just listen to the sound of the metronome and let its tempo relax and empty your head for the time being.”

The gentle ticktock was, like the music in the waiting room, quite soft and soothing.

“Let your heartrate slow... relax any tension in your muscles... close your eyes... drift along to the easy rhythm...”

The sound was quite mesmerising, her voice a happy echo behind the gentle ticktock. I felt a warming glow and knew I’d just filled the front of my nappy, again, in the offices of a psychiatrist and it didn’t seem to matter - not to me, not to her, not to anyone.

The unusual yet soothing sound had an immediate effect on both my mind and body, easing tension I hadn’t realised was there. As my eyes gradually closed, my thoughts grew quiet, and I felt a serene sense of weightlessness—almost as if I’d fallen asleep. With no sense of time passing, when she gently touched the back of my hand and started asking questions, I responded freely, without any anxiety. It was as though someone else was speaking through me.

#

Because of the way Susan had described her son I had made a summary assessment ahead of our meeting that he was probably a mummy’s boy with an infantile association. I wasn’t quite prepared for meeting John, who seemed an intelligent, nice, unassuming lad, and, what came tumbling out as he spoke unambiguously about his life since he’d been returned to wearing protection seemed unrestrained and honest.

At the beginning he'd easily accepted that his mother’s advice to wear padding to bed had been a sensible idea and one, although unsure, saw it was something that would work immediately. He admitted to being embarrassed by, as he put it ‘a leaky willy’ but said he had no idea why it had started. I asked if he had any thoughts as to the possible reason and his reply was simply ‘anxiety’ but that could quite easily have been an answer he’d simply agreed was the case rather than the actual cause. Still, it was nice the way he spoke, his parents had obviously brought him up to be polite and respectful, which for a teenager, especially a sixteen-year-old, I’d found quite rare during my more recent interaction with clients of that age.

He spoke about his mother getting him involved in doing reviews of the items a person called Avril had advised he should use. When I asked about this particular person, he simply referred to her as “Mum’s friend”. Perhaps I needed Susan back in the room to fill in the blank areas because from what I could gather, she could be the catalyst for a lot of what was going on in John’s head.

#

Talking to Doctor Laura turned out to be just as easy as Mum had assured me. Although I was hesitant at first and found myself a bit tongue-tied, I soon realized I could speak openly without holding back. The slow, steady ticktock seemed to help clear my thoughts, making everything easier to express. I wouldn’t have been this open with any of my mates at school, but the conversation felt as natural as when Terry and I acted like little kids together. Even wearing a soaked nappy didn’t bother me; instead, the whole exchange felt friendly and relaxed. If this is what seeing a psychiatrist is like, then I’m all for it.

I know that once I started, I was able to reveal all sorts of stuff. Like my genuine enthusiasm for reviewing all the nappies and clothing I’d been sent and how much I’d enjoyed wearing it and feeling my comments were making a difference. I didn’t know how, where or why but Avril had said the company was excited by the reaction they were getting and I believed her, as did mum. After all, they had sent a batch of new disposables as a thank you for all the hits they were getting online.

Doctor Laura kept returning to the same question, “When had this anxiety started and when was my first experience of wetting?” The thing is, when I tried to answer, erm, what I thought I knew, um, no... what I ended up admitting to was that my first wet pants were a long time before the ‘exam anxiety’ started but that I’d never told anyone. Except I was telling her.

Several times, and I couldn’t tell her just how many, but from the age of around eleven, I’d had several ‘near misses’ and a couple of actual sodden undies or pyjamas. I’d felt guilty about a boy my age having such accidents and had managed (and I wasn’t sure how or why) to keep the incidents secret.

I’d occasionally come home from school nursing sodden underpants but thanks to the dark material of my grey school trousers the stain was mostly hidden. I’d rush up to my bedroom, and if asked by Mum why the haste, I’d just lie and tell her I had some homework that I just needed to do. “Okay love,” she’d shout after me, “tea will be on the table at six” or some such thing.

Each time I had an accident, I would quietly remove my wet underwear and take them to the bathroom to rinse out, making sure to do so discreetly so no one would notice. Afterwards, I'd return to my room and hang my damp trousers over the radiators to dry them out before anyone could discover what had happened. This routine allowed me to keep these occasional incidents hidden for quite a while, as nobody seemed to notice or question what I was doing. However, as the pressure of those recent upcoming exams intensified—with countless late nights spent revising—the frequency of these incidents increased. Eventually, the situation worsened to a point where I could no longer keep it a secret.

 My parents were incredibly understanding—they never tried to make me feel small or poke fun at me for needing protection. In fact, we talked openly about my situation, and they decided that anxiety and teenage hormones were likely behind it. After a few mornings waking up wet, they gently suggested that using nappies might be a practical short-term fix. While I was initially resistant to the idea, I eventually saw the sense in it; after all, I much preferred that over waking up in a cold, wet bed. Mum wasted no time preparing everything, probably to prevent me from backing out. Surprisingly, once I had the nappy on and enjoyed a comfortable night's sleep (with only the nappy getting wet), I realised it was probably the right choice.

I ended up sharing all of this—and much more—with Doctor Laura. So, when she asked about the pharmacy’s involvement, I had to admit that I supported the idea even more than I let on to mum.

#

It seemed completely natural to open up to her about how I’d quickly adapted to wearing nappies and, in fact, genuinely enjoyed the sensation they provided. When all the other items began to arrive, Mum’s cheerful acceptance of the situation made it even easier for me to embrace this new experience. I realised I could give myself permission to enjoy something that gave me such a buzz. Each new arrival made me feel wonderful, almost as if I had been given the chance to relive aspects of my childhood—with my parents’ encouragement.

I admitted to Doctor Laura that, for the most part, the childish feelings were all in my head rather than acted out—at least until the FruitiZucker and my friendship with Terry encouraged me to do so. Nevertheless, there was a genuine thrill in the thickness of whatever nappy I wore, regardless of the design or material, pressing comfortably between my legs – a loving hug. When the company introduced the new ‘regression’ range, which included adorable plastic pants, I found them to be incredibly sweet, which in turn tipped another stimulus. That’s why I was so enthusiastic about wearing them openly around the house. Having official permission to do so, thanks to the reviews I was expected to write, made the whole experience even more enjoyable.

She delved deeper into my relationship with Terry and discovered that I’d enjoyed our childish experiment on more levels than perhaps he had but, she said, she thought the drugged soothers were too much of an influence to make any real judgement. I wasn’t sure if I liked that term but she was a professional and she hadn’t said it in a mean or off- hand way so...?

I’d been alone with Doctor Laura for well over an hour when she invited Mum to come and join us. I recognised that forced ‘smile’ she hadn’t liked not being involved in what had been said. However, she had given the Doctor as much privacy as she could and hoped that as a result, she had discovered the reason I was wetting so regularly.

#

While there was an atmosphere of cordiality between Mum and her friend initially, the dynamic had shifted to one where Mum was interacting with someone possessing a degree of authority. The change in their relationship was perceptible, as the sense of equality from earlier had noticeably diminished. It became more and more apparent as Doctor Laura questioned Mum’s involvement with the pharmacist.

During her ‘interrogation’, it became apparent that Mum's renowned ability to debate and defend her point of view seemed to wane. For perhaps the first time, she found herself needing to justify her enthusiasm for my involvement in the scheme. The atmosphere grew noticeably tense, yet Doctor Laura remained undeterred, continuing to ask direct and probing questions. As the conversation progressed, Mum’s discomfort increased; she was forced to reflect on the significance of her initial encounter with Avril and the choices that followed.

As it turned out because the decision to put me in nappies (“a teen in a nappy would be so cute”) and the fact that it proved to be so brought out something in her that she hadn’t realised was there. She loved to see her loving teenaged son wearing protection and was encouraged to cling to that perception, even when she began to have doubts, by her very influential new friend. What the pharmacist said all made sense or so it seemed at the time. Perhaps Avril was merely endorsing what she thought her friend wanted to hear.

For about another hour, Mum, Dr Laura, and I experienced a range of emotions. The Doctor’s questions toward Mum felt almost accusatory to me, making me uncomfortable—as if she was under attack—which left me annoyed by what seemed like a cross-examination. However, what I didn’t realise at the time was that Laura, as Mum’s friend, was simply acting professionally. She wasn’t accusing anyone; she was seeking information. Mum, grappling with guilt over uncritically accepting Avril’s justification for their actions, found confronting this truth especially difficult.

Mum was apologising to me for her lack of judgement but all I could see was she presented me with an opportunity and one that I took. It was something I liked, not only liked but enthusiastically embraced. Surprisingly (although after what has happened perhaps not), I quite liked the idea that Mum thought I looked cute wearing a nappy. I liked that she encouraged me to persevere with my opinions and reviews. As the two adults talked, explored and generally painstakingly scrutinised the real reasons I wet, I realised that I didn’t actually mind wetting. Even when I was eleven and trying to hide it, it was a surprise to now realise that I actually had no worry about doing it, just someone finding out. However, once they did notice, and there were no nasty consequences, it all seemed to be acceptable.

The inclusion of drugged dummies felt somewhat out of place compared to the other items I'd received, but we genuinely didn't know any better at the time. Mum insisted that she'd discussed them with Avril, who explained they were part of the company's overall plan to help people unwind and manage stress—particularly young adults facing a range of social and global anxieties. She even mentioned, quoting Avril, that both CEOs and students in Japan were reportedly using them openly to cope with anxiety.

However, Mum had admitted to observing the results and how easily both me and a friend, she didn’t mention Terry by name (even though I had already done so) had suddenly let inhibitions go and settled into nappy-wetting kids who just wanted to have fun. It was this regression that had worried her and was the thing she was most perturbed about as, she kept saying, she should have seen it coming sooner.

The psychiatrist continued to inquire, seeking additional details regarding this sense of ‘apprehension’. Although Mum felt uncomfortable expressing her true emotions, she recognised that transparency was necessary if we were to fully understand my difficulties. She acknowledged perceiving both Terry and I as appearing content, uninhibited, and carefree during play, unencumbered by social constraints. She observed our spontaneity, noting the absence of anxiety and briefly wishing such freedom were universally accessible. Nonetheless, this fleeting sense of exhilaration was offset by her conviction that an underlying issue persisted, attributing our heightened joy to the use of dummies.

Mum had to acknowledge certain things. Why had she pushed for my involvement? Why had she so quickly agreed with Avril about my diagnosis and need for nappies? Why had she been so happy to see me wearing one? There was a sigh of relief as Mum finished her explanation, as if things were now beginning to slot into position.

I think we all felt it. I certainly did.

Because...

Despite everything the doctor put us through, it was starting to have an impact. Feeling more as a teenager now and not a little kid, I began to reflect on my experiences more deeply and saw things with greater clarity. I realised I wasn’t a victim—though perhaps the FruitiZuckers made me one to some degree—but overall, I had a clear sense of what I wanted. In truth, it was more than a want—it was an essential part of who I was. This newfound self-awareness was truly amazing.

I wasn’t sure if this was the way psychiatry was meant to work but it came as a bit of a shock that, after only a couple of hours she’d showed me exactly what I was. Yes, I wet, but it didn’t bother me.

“Mum, Mum, Mum,” I tried to interrupt as she looked a bit distressed at her complicity in all of this. “Don’t apologise...”

I could see she was a surprised that I’d spoken up.

With both adults watching, I felt unsure about what to confess, but since I'd begun, I had to continue.

“Erm, well, hmmm, maybe,” I stammered, acutely aware that both of them were watching me intently. Their expectant gazes left me with little choice but to press on, however awkward it felt. My words came out haltingly, filled with uncertainty: “Could it be, that, urrmm, I like, hmmm, you know...?” The pauses were heavy, punctuating my struggle to articulate what I needed to say. Yet, despite the difficulty, I forced myself to carry on and, at last, managed to voice the revelation I’d been holding back.

# tbc #

 

Part 12

The journey home left both Mum and me feeling utterly drained. The emotional intensity of the consultation had clearly taken its toll. Mum seemed diminished somehow—perhaps it was just the weight of everything catching up with her, or maybe it was simply how I was seeing her in that moment. As for me, I was caught between two powerful feelings: the thrill of having made a significant discovery about myself, and a nervous apprehension about what the implications might be.

The moment we arrived home; I headed straight up to my room. The meeting with the doctor had been emotionally charged, revealing, and left me wondering if I was actually in charge of myself. Adding to my discomfort, I’d been sitting in a soaked nappy for most of the session, unable to change while at her office. Things had become physically uncomfortable and I was relieved to finally have the chance to get into something clean and dry.

I also wanted to avoid seeing Dad before I’d sorted myself out. With so much to share with him, both Mum and I were anxious about how he might react to everything that had unfolded. We hoped that whatever we told him, it wouldn’t come as too much of a shock, and of course, we were equally eager to find out what was happening with the police.

#

As a sixteen-year-old, my thoughts were all over the place and at different intensities. In that relatively short session, Doctor Laura forced me to face reality— had I actually been in denial? Had we both been in denial? I needed to acknowledge what was really happening in my head, and so too had Mum.

My nappy was in quite a state. It wasn’t the first time I’d had to wear soggy padding for some time but I suppose the nervous wriggling around had made things worse. Thankfully, as always, the plastic pants did their job and held all the contents... no matter how much. Anyway, I disappeared into the bathroom to clean myself up and threw what looked like a well-used and extremely abused tangle of material in the bin. Strangely, because of what I’d just confirmed to the doctor, at the same time it felt like I was discarding an old friend.

Reflecting on everything that had happened during the session, I realised that it was then, amidst all the awkwardness and honesty, that I finally admitted to my craving to wear a nappy. This admission to my particular taste in underwear wasn’t something I’d anticipated confessing at all. Yet, as the conversation with Doctor Laura unfolded, it emerged naturally—almost as though it was inevitable once we truly began talking.

Her reaction was calm and open, as if she had expected such a revelation; there was no hint of shock or judgement from her. Mum, on the other hand, seemed a little taken aback by my admission, but I couldn’t help but think she must have suspected something, given the circumstances. Still, what had once felt like a secret or an embarrassment was now simply a part of my reality—my preference for certain types of underwear was just my normal.

Actually, when I thought about it more – it really wasn’t that much of a secret. My interest and insistence on wearing a nappy must have been obvious and not just something I wore to ‘protect’ the bed. After all, I was wearing one all the time.

After the session, relieved to be back home, I focused on looking after myself. I took the time to clean up properly and made sure to check for any soreness or redness—something I’d learnt to do as part of my routine. Once I was satisfied that everything was fine, I walked back to my room, enjoying the freedom of being naked, ready to find something more comfortable and soothing to wear.

There on the landing, wagging his tail was Bruce. Poor thing had been left on his own for quite a bit of the day so was in desperate need of a walk and some general fuss. “Who’s a good boy then?” I said as I gave his head a gentle friendly rub. I saw that look in his eye that said, ‘Very nice but I need to get outside’.

So, I hastily chose the thickest and newest edition to my growing collection, these being called ‘bamboo’. I thought they would give me the most protection (and comfort) if things got awkward as we spoke to Dad. I needed to feel secure. I slipped a pair of blue rubberised pants over them which held me tightly and was glad to get back to wearing what I really preferred - a pair of loose-fitting elasticated shorts over the lot. Finishing the relaxed look, I slipped into a pale blue jumper, which strangely matched my protection, and after a quick check in the mirror was on my way.

I rushed down stairs, grabbed his lead and told mum I was taking him for a walk. Bruce seemed grateful and bounded ahead as we made our way out of the back gate towards the woods. It didn’t take him long to find a lamppost before we got to the trees and relieved himself with a long piss. Thankfully, on this occasion, I didn’t feel the need to join him.

#

Whilst out with Bruce I’d had a few thoughts and one of them was to check on something Doctor Laura had mentioned. Near the end of our session, she had read a synopsis from her computer screen that seemed to relate to my situation. It didn’t seem like a big deal. In fact, she seemed to think it quite normal. So, when we returned home, thinking it might help with explaining things to Dad, I tried looking for it on my laptop. I ended up finding a similar article on Wikipedia.

*While some use diapers to achieve or enhance sexual pleasure as part of a kink or fetish, others find diapers to be a source of non-sexual positive feelings, such as comfort, relaxation, nostalgia, as well as being loved or cared for.

*Wikipedia entry

Although not necessarily the precise piece that the doctor had advocated, this seemed accurate, addressing both nappies (diapers) and reflecting my own views. Of course, there were some things I didn’t like - the word fetish for instance (it sounded so seedy) – but in general those other few descriptive words seemed to cover quite a lot of what was going on in my head.

It had become obvious that the drugged dummies had intensified mine and Terry’s state of mind, which I found fantastic and obviously liberating. But there again, we’d just done the same thing without such help, which we both enjoyed on another level – it was just fun. Weirdly, it had been instigated by Terry but I was happy to go along with his needs as they ran close to my own. Nonetheless, because of the way the pharmacist had talked up the widespread use of dummies I was surprised that there appeared to be no reports of others experiencing similar effects.

(Strangely I was missing having a binkie between my lips).

When I returned to the kitchen, where Mum had started making a meal, I was surprised when she said that Dad was at the police station and wouldn’t be back for a while.

“Has he been arrested?” My body went cold. Even though I knew he’d done nothing wrong just the thought of him having to deal with the police scared me a little. A nervous spurt shot into my fresh padding.

Mum smiled, “No love, nothing like that” She came over and gave me a hug. She let me see the text on her phone.

New developments. Police need to chat. Back as soon as poss.

 

 

 

 

 

Typical Dad, when you want more info, he keeps it to the absolute minimum. (mini-mum... maybe not as funny as it once seemed)

“We’ll wait until he gets home before we eat, then we can tell each other all our news. We have quite a bit to chat about... don’t we?”  She ruffled my hair and indicated for me to leave the kitchen as she was busy getting things prepared so I went into the lounge and grabbed the TV remote.

As I sat down on the sofa Bruce came and sat at my feet. The slightly sweaty extra padding felt really nice. My rubber pants seemed to softly whisper that it had been a hell of a revealing day. Don’t ask me how that came about because it was all in my head, it was a feeling, it was, well, now I’ve said it out loud, probably nonsense. I’d turned on the TV but wasn’t actually watching because so much was going on in my thinking.

Would Dad understand?

What did the police want?

Was Mum just as guilty as Avril?

What the hell did the police know?

Why are my nappies so nice to wear?

Did I look cute wearing them?

Why do I keep wearing them when I could go back to my briefs?

How come the Shrink seemed to understand so quickly?

Laura didn’t seem fazed by any of it, should she have been?

Do I have a FETISH?

Why am I missing having a dummy in my mouth?

I’m sixteen, yet prefer wearing a nappy... what’s wrong with me?

At that moment, the thought “what’s wrong with me” struck me more forcefully than ever before. The Doctor had explained that using and wearing nappies is something many people (or at least some) actually enjoy. I wasn’t alone, but I couldn’t help comparing my choices to how others might react—it felt as though everything was my fault. I kept thinking that if I had just refused when Mum first put me back in nappies, none of this would have happened and we wouldn’t be in this situation now.  

Bloody Hell, it is all my fault... I should have just put up with a wet bed.

The trouble is... I’d worn the nappy gladly. I might have objected but not with any force or determination, the idea settled fairly easily in my head... and then comfortably around my waist. It was a neat match – something I needed and something that made sense.

I massaged the front of my shorts. I could feel the slipperiness of the tight-fitting nappy cover and the slight bulk of my reassuring disposable underneath – yes it was fantastic. That earlier spurt of pee that turned into a torrent and soaked the bed proved I needed a nappy; Mum was correct in making sure I wore one at night... but why am I continuing to wear one?

These new bamboo ‘recyclable disposables’ have a surprising ‘comfort fit’ that stretches and surrounds the groin hugging and offering the added bonus that once used they aren’t just going to landfill sites. A great addition to the range providing they don’t fall apart in the wash.

#

At that moment there was an advert on TV for Pampers Baby-Dri Pants with a toddler joyfully running around with his mum gleefully chasing her little darling as he proved what a ‘big boy’ he was.

My mind identified with that little tot. That was me. That was how I felt when wearing a nappy.

Zzzzaaaapppp. It actually felt like I was being zapped by a bolt of electricity and into that commercial.

My body tingled and it all made sense. I was that toddler. I wanted that freedom. I liked that freedom, it felt nice and, at the same time, wanted my stuffed animals to come and join me watching the programme. I was both that little boy on screen and another tot playing with him and we were having such a great time. His mother, my mother, any mother was smiling down whilst watching affectionately as we ran around in just our sweet comfy baby undies.

I wanted Terry sat with us playing with our toys on the floor dressed just like that happy little chap... like me. Our nappies meant freedom, we didn’t have to worry about anything, we could do what we had to do without stopping... it was a release. To me it demonstrated that right there in front of me was proof (?) that nappies were good for every body – one way or another. I wanted, erm, um, I wanted... I wanted to be a kid again and just play...

Then Dad walked in.

#

He didn’t look annoyed or angry after his visit to the police station and he smiled and said “Hi” to me as he took off his shoes, hung up his jacket and made his way into the kitchen. I followed, eager to find out his news before we told our own. He moved up behind Mum as she worked at the sink washing up a few items and gave her a hug and kiss on the back of her neck.

“Well, welcome home to you too,” she sighed just a little too sexily for my liking.

“Right,” Dad said after another tight hug, “I’m sure we have a lot to talk about, so, I’ll just go and change...”

“The meal will be ready when you come down.” Mum interrupted.

“...and then we’ll share our latest... okay?”

I helped set the table, Bruce found his spot looking at his feeding bowl waiting for it to be filled, which I did. He was hungry and wolfed the lot down before we’d even started ours.

Dad returned looking quite relaxed now he was out of his work suit and had donned a pair of jeans and a casual green jumper, he looked more at ease than I’d seen him for quite some time.

Dad asked us all to sit down at the table before the meal was served so that we weren’t discussing things with our mouths full.

“Okay,” he started, “they’ve found Avril and she’s in custody.” He looked at us both for some reaction but, as we both had equally ‘exciting’ news we just nodded; me with a bit of relief although I’m sure Mum felt it even if she didn’t say anything. Dad continued, “She has admitted that she and her boyfriend were the creators of those drugged dummies but I'm afraid John, you were the first and only one to be subjected to them. Between the two they had decided, because of all your positive comments, you’d be an ideal ‘guinea pig’ to test them out on.”

“Oh bloody...” Mum irritably stopped herself from swearing.

“The police found a small but rather advanced lab in a nearby lock-up and confiscated what can only described, and I’m using the police term here, as a rather advanced number of amphetamine-enhanced child soothers.”

“That bloody woman if...”

Dad indicated for her to settle down and I could see she was absolutely seething but knew she was powerless to do anything about it.

“Now, she is being held at a police station in the capital but her boyfriend has done a runner and she says she has no idea where he’s gone. However, as he is from Belarus originally, he may well be on his way there.”

Dad continued. “Now then, she’s admitted to attaching her and her boyfriend’s ‘research’ onto the back of the legitimate marketing that the other companies were carrying out so everything appeared authentic and above board.” He paused to see that we were taking his news in. “She also said that Johnny here was the best, most enthusiastic responder to all that was given to him to trial...which I suppose is a backhanded compliment...” he saw Mum’s hackles rise. “Perhaps not, but the police have checked all the items we’ve given them and all, apart from the dummies, have proved to be just what the companies had said they were... so no hidden substances or...”

There were nods of acknowledgement from both me and Mum but there was also a strange feeling in my stomach – they’d chosen me to try their druggie stuff out on because I was so compliant and enthusiastic about everything. I might have had a few doubts before but now for the first time in all of this I really felt used. Gullible. They had no idea what they were testing out on me... and Terry as it turned out... but I mean... I could... erm... Oh god... I’d given the damn thing to Terry so...

I felt sick, abused, guilty and worst of all... stupid. My heart was pumping and head spinning... was I also to blame?

“The different flavoured dummies were different strengths of the compound they used to see which would be best for rolling out to a larger appreciative crowd. Apparently, she said she was sorry but the police still don’t know exactly what it was you’ve taken.”

#

Dad looked at Mum and then me as if to say “Well one of you start” but for a moment I don’t think either of us wanted to go first. Mum plucked up her courage and launched into our session... the bits she was involved with.

“It was... hard... shaky... revealing... more difficult than I thought it’d be talking with a friend.” She sighed. “But there were things eventually said out loud that had only been unidentified, erm, hidden agendas” she took a deep breath. “Perhaps not all that hidden actually but...”

I didn’t want to stop Mum but once again she seemed to have shrunk a little with the weight of all that had happened. The realisation of being called to book by the Doctor and the truth about her son, me, maybe had led to an unintentional liability. So, despite all that was in turmoil in my head I had to say something.

“Dad,” I hoped he didn’t mind me interrupting her, “I think, erm, no, I mean... the Doctor thinks that I have an appreciation for nappies and such stuff.” There I’d said it and wasn’t sure I could look Dad in the face anymore but it is what the psychiatrist had more or less concluded.

There was quiet around the table for a few seconds, even Bruce panting seemed to have stopped, as what I’d just confessed was taken onboard.

I was desperately trying to remember what I’d just looked up in my room and was annoyed I hadn’t brought it down with me to show him.

Anyway, I wasn’t sure that he would know exactly what I was admitting to so I had to look up and try to gauge a reaction.

“Hmmmm!” Was all I heard as he looked to Mum for anything further.

On second thoughts, I wasn’t sure if I should have said anything but it was out there now.

“Yes, it was her professional opinion, even based on just the one session... however it was intense. She concluded that Johnny simply loves wearing nappies and all the things that are attendant to them.” There was no disagreement from her she was just relaying the Doctor’s conclusion.

Mum had regained a bit of her strength and debating abilities as she then set about rationalising all that had happened in the therapist’s office. Dad didn’t seem to miss a beat. I didn’t detect much of a reaction even with Mum’s agreement on my assessment but she carried on as if that was just one of many points. It was all quite detailed, and although she wasn’t there for my bit, she had assessed the situation perfectly.

Mum knows everything, even if she doesn’t know it!

#

Although Dad occasionally nodded throughout Mum's explanation, I sensed that nothing she shared was particularly unexpected to him. He maintained a thoughtful, appraising gaze in my direction, as if weighing up my initial statement. Having already spoken my mind, I felt no urge to interject during Mum’s energetic account and instead let her continue uninterrupted.

As she spoke, I found my attention drifting. My thoughts gradually shifted away from the conversation at the table, and I became preoccupied with what Dad’s ultimate response would be. It was difficult to imagine him simply accepting everything without question—there was little chance he would just smile and say, “Well that’s okay then,” as if nothing unusual had been revealed. Instead, a wave of anxiety washed over me at the possibility of punishment.

Would he really be happy with his sixteen-year-old son wanting, or preferring to wear nappies? The thing is... it didn’t seem an unreasonable inclination to have.

Not that dad and me have any great history of any scary levels of discipline. Don’t forget ‘Johnny’s a good boy’ and a stiff talking to has only ever been my rebuke since a toddler. However, once that worry took hold, I could not help but wonder what forms of discipline Dad might devise. Once again, my anxiety took over and suddenly felt the warmth of pee seeping into my nappy.

Yes, I definitely needed my padding... however...

Incredibly, wetting myself had become the most routine and expected part of my day. Whether I was excited, nervous, anxious, or even frightened, it didn’t seem to matter—whatever emotion (or come to think of it – lack of emotion) my nappy always ended up absorbing a trickle, a spurt or a flood. I scarcely registered the act itself; the leakage happened so automatically that it felt way beyond my control.

What truly stood out to me, though, was the sense of gratitude I felt for the thick padding and protection my nappy provided. Far from feeling embarrassed, I found genuine pleasure in having such security. The sensation of the nappy—its bulk and softness—brought me comfort and reassurance, making me pleased to be wearing it - almost like a badge of honour. 

Despite the way I thought... the possibilities of Dad’s discipline began to worry me because, I don’t think he’d ever been all that keen on me wearing a nappy. I don’t know for certain because it was a decision led by Mum so, although he knew I needed them with my constantly dripping dick, he wasn’t necessarily onboard with all the rest of it if truth be told.

That was the thing; I’d embraced the total package. The ‘grown-up’ element of taking charge of a problem, making sure I was doing the right thing by wearing a nappy to cut down on laundry every day. Hoping, from my reviews, that someone, somewhere, who like me had this problem, would benefit from those evaluations. Then when the items got more and more childish, I took to them with relish – they were fun, they were comfy, they tapped into my juvenile predispositions without me being aware I had such inclinations. Without necessarily being aware of it I loved the slide back to being a little kid. I don’t remember ever feeling the need to protect my teenage self from succumbing to having to wear any of the things I was asked to try. If anything, I wanted more... and still do but with police involvement... that has had to take a backseat. However, the need for protection around my groin did not and has not disappeared. As Doctor Laura quickly surmised, I love my nappies.

#

After Mum’s exhaustive and detailed account, we both ended up looking at Dad to see what, if any, his reaction would be. Dad is a very studied man he doesn’t usually let temper control his response; however, this was also a very emotional time for me and Mum so perhaps he would have a different approach.

“Right, well, all that brings us up to this moment.” That was not the thing I thought he’d lead with. “Doctor Answah said there were no other symptoms that could cause your condition... that they discovered.” He added as if not quite discounting that there might be. “However, there is obviously ‘something’ and we need to get to the bottom of that.”

We looked at him as if he was hearing a different story. After all, had he not been listening to what had been said and was just thinking about, well, an alternative that we thought had been covered?

“It can’t be just the fact that you like nappies,” Ah, Dad was on track, he was mulling everything over whilst we’d only been looking at the psychoanalytical part of the problem. “There must be a reason, a traceable reason, why you started peeing in the first place.” He took a thoughtful moment. “I can see how things have developed and brought other things to the fore but, and here I’m hoping, that there is another explanation as to why all this started in the first place.”

“STRESS,” Mum stressed, she was adamant that was the main reason for at least the start of my problem “We went over this with Laura, and that seemed the most likely prime mover.” She was repeating herself but wasn’t sure Dad had taken everything on board. “Johnny put himself under immense pressure to make sure he got the results he has achieved but there has been a toll.”

“Yes, I understand that may have been the cause but...” Dad was struggling, or so it seemed, to find an alternative, “what if it was something that just happened to coincide with the same timeline?”

“Love,” Mum was holding Dad’s hand, “I hope you’re not denying what the doctors... two different types of doctors at that... have already concluded.”

There was a huge sigh from Dad. “I just don’t want Johnny to suffer from...”

“Dad, Dad, please,” I had a full soggy nappy but I needed to speak as a teenager and not a little kid (even if I would have preferred to let the grownups sort it all out) “It wasn’t the first time.”

#

Dad looked a bit shocked. “What do you mean?”

“Well, erm, I have wet my undies before and hidden the fact.” All eyes were now on me. “I, ummm, have occasionally wet my underpants and pyjamas and managed to hide that fact... not a lot of times... but not only once either.”

“Go on,” my parent’s seemed to speak as one.

It was a strange sensation because, though I’d already confessed this fact to Doctor Laura, I hadn’t in fact mentioned it to Mum because she wasn’t in the room when I had done so. I could feel the warm blush of embarrassment now I had finally spoken the truth, and I don’t think my uncomfortable wiggling around under their scrutiny helped. I felt very awkward indeed, my soggy nappy was receiving far too much attention with my squirming as I tried to explain.

“Well, I’m embarrassed to say that, um, over a couple of years...”

“YEARS?” Dad and Mum exclaimed in unison.

“Erm, yes. Look, it wasn’t a significant amount just a bit of dampness but I was embarrassed about it so never said anything... that was until it got to, well, a very wet bed and then there was no denying it. Sorry!”

Although their eyes were on me, I just couldn’t look them in the face.

There was a moment of silence and then Mum came over and gave me a hug. “So, you’ve been dealing with this for months... years and we never had any idea?”

I shivered as I shook my head.

She could see I was more than a little upset at the turn of events and gently pushed on the front of my shorts.

“I think we should leave it there for the moment because you definitely need a change before we eat.”

I heard Dad sigh; there had been a lot to take in and in truth it seemed we’d only just begun.

It was like a switch: All my teenage bravura and certainty that all had been sorted and now I could, no, now we all could just get on with our lives had suddenly evaporated. It was like someone had pressed rewind on the remote control and I felt as if I was tumbling back to an earlier time. I trembled, my mind fogged, this felt weird. All that was left was the soggy disposable that swished and drooped inside my protection. Was that what I really had become? The confidence I’d had just moments before had now departed and I was back feeling like a lost little boy.

Mum must have sensed something more was happening because she quickly guided me up to my room and helped me off with my sodden load. I felt awkward and that I couldn’t handle anything. With my jumper and shorts removed she could see that the disposable was in a terrible distressed state and it was only thanks to the tight blue rubber pants that I hadn’t leaked everywhere. As Mum gently disposed of the sopping mass, I couldn’t help feeling guilty about the torture I’d no doubt put them through – although that might have been just guilt about other things.

#

I burst into tears. It had all been going so well, or so I thought, but now my head was saying - You’re too little to deal with a wet nappy never mind anything else... let mummy take care of you.

I didn’t know what to do but I was shaking. I felt so vulnerable and small and incredibly overwhelmed by the day and needed to find a place to hide but Mum was being Mum and seemed to understand this bizarre shift. Once out of all the wet stuff she didn’t send me to the bathroom she went there and returned with a bowl of warm water and a soft cloth. Slowly, as I sobbed, she cleaned my raw area and dried me off before applying lashings of cream and a huge cloud of powder. She grabbed a fabric nappy from the pile and as I sucked on my thumb gently slipped it under me, pinned it into place, before slowly pulling up a pair of my baby blue plastic pants.

She patted it all down and smoothed it out. “Okay sweetheart, I think we’ll put dinner on hold for the time being.” She wiped my forehead. “Just try and get some rest and we’ll sort things out later... okay?”

It wasn’t really a question because she pulled up the duvet and tucked me in. I hadn’t said a word, just sobbed but the atmosphere was still loving. She didn’t pull out the thumb embedded between my lips as I nursed for a few seconds before sleepy time took over.

Oh, you poor thing. Your father and I need to have some serious discussions.

# tbc #

Part 13

“What the hell was that?” David looked concerned when his wife returned from settling their son.

“I’m not sure but I’ve just changed him and put him to bed and...”

“Couldn’t he do that himself?” David interrupted in confused disbelief. She shook her head, “But he was okay just minutes before... I mean... normal.” He still couldn’t quite get a grip on what he’d just witnessed. He saw his upbeat son happily discussing his therapist visit and then that sudden glazed look that appeared from nowhere.

They looked at each other in silence for a few moments before Susan continued. “These sudden slips, moments of regression, seem to becoming more regular. I’ve seen it a couple of times with his interaction when Terry has called. In fact, I’m sure Terry, who seems an unlikely candidate for any of this nappy stuff, is also occasionally slipping.”

“Why do you say that? What have you seen?” Her husband looked more than a little unsettled by this revelation.

“I’ve watched them both play together like little kids running toys around the room and I’ve even had to change Terry when he was once here. They were both sucking on one of those dummies.”

“What? When?” David asked even more exasperated as he didn’t remember hearing anything about this.

“Oh yes...” Susan had forgotten that she’d kept that incident secret. Though, now the lot was supposedly out in the open, realised she needed to tell him everything.

#

Susan had to come clean about the entire thing that had happened even before they had the session with Laura Mohammad. There had been a great deal of interaction, and agreement, between her and Avril over how best to treat a teenager with a wetting problem that David was unaware of. When she sat down to catalogue events, like she had with Laura, she realised once again just how culpable she was. However, at the time, she thought she was doing what was best for her son, and, with the constant encouragement of Avril, had been only too keen on continuing with his ‘recovery’.

Clearly, that so-called 'recovery' had been far from genuine. Unfortunately, by then, Susan was actually enjoying seeing her teenage son not only wearing nappies but revelling in wearing them. It had been an unexpected but enjoyable ‘emotional extra’ that she could appreciate along with her son.

To her, once he was wearing a nappy at night, and it was doing the job it was designed for, and he wasn’t complaining about it, AND actually seemed to agree it was something that was needed. She simply appreciated the padded comfort was actually helping.

John had taken to all the elements that Avril and then the Dreamtime team had sent their way... and she’d loved his dressing up as much as the lad himself. However, everything shifted after those dummies were brought in, as she noticed a clear difference in behaviour—but by that time, unknown to her, it was already too late. Susan couldn’t believe just how easily she’d been manoeuvred by the pharmacist; the betrayal and the use of her son in such a dodgy experiment... it left her seething in anger and guilt.

“That bloody woman...” As he listened David raged under his breath because although he was angry with the pharmacist he was once again looking accusingly at his wife. So much he thought he knew about but alas, what had really happened was that he’d not taken enough notice of his son’s soggy predicament. He’d left it to his wife and despite trying to put the blame firmly elsewhere had seen with his own eyes (so he couldn’t be in denial) Johnny happily parading around the house wearing just a nappy. His emotions were all over the place... what had he missed? What value did his silence contribute?

Once again silence fell around them both as they took account of all that had been said. David’s mood softened, an awful lot had gone on and mistakes had been made by both him and Susan, he couldn’t simply put the blame on her. He realised that his wife not being able to mother another child might, just might have slipped into pouring all her motherly instincts into a second round of babying John. That thought couldn’t be dismissed and he was sure that the psychiatrist had already covered such an area but that still left their son in an awkward situation. That was... what had just happened. It hadn’t been anticipated and they now had to deal with that as a priority. He moved closer to his wife and gently put his arms around her. “We’ll make it work love... we’ll make it work.”

#

Fast asleep and with a thumb firmly being nursed between his lips John was unaware of all that was going on downstairs. He had no idea what had happened or why. He had no thoughts at all in his head but, as he slept, his body decided to act... by filling both the front and back of his nappy as he snuggled deeper down into a place that had just become a new state of affairs - Comficated!

He was comfortable but it was complicated.

#

David and Susan talked nonstop, their meal hardly touched as they discussed their ailing, and it seemed failing son. Susan was keen to point the blame squarely at the drugged dummies, which her husband pointed out the police had said were being made specifically for ‘distribution’ at one of the main up and coming large music festivals.

“But she was using Johnny as...” Words failed her as she remembered clearly her own worries that she’d brought up with Avril about the use of dummies on someone his age. The pharmacist had glossed over those misgivings, and in fact had been definite that it was a soothing culture that had started in the Far East and had been adopted as a useful enabler for those who were stressed. She had seen the reasoning behind that argument and let it go. Susan cursed herself for not being more assertive on the issue, being so easily conned and now it seemed that it might be too late.

“We have no idea just exactly what chemicals or hallucinogenic properties those damn things were coated in...” The guilt on Susan’s face was real but David added that the police were still investigating and testing the dummies that they’d confiscated. So far, the test results were uncertain.

“At the moment they have no real idea what Avril and her boyfriend have concocted or...” he added with a nervous shrug, “if it’s a temporary high or what.” The truth was that they were using John and his enthusiasm for such items, as their guinea pig. 

Despite feeling guilty they also couldn’t evade the fact that their son had actually been enjoying the entire process. Could his readiness to accept nappies and the rest of the clothing have made a mindset that enabled the drugs to be more effective? Did it break down barriers? Open up lines to the brain? Did it actually regress those who took it or simply more attuned to some basic desire?

They tossed several ideas and scenarios around for a few hours before eventually agreeing it was time for bed. They called in at John’s bedroom and immediately knew from the smell that their poor boy desperately needed a change.

“I wonder how long he’s been lying in all this mess?” Susan sympathised, whilst David simply told her to go to bed as he’d sort it out.

Johnny’s nappy was still firmly shut behind the tough pair of blue plastic pants that Susan had put him in but there was no denying the mess had discoloured the fabric underneath. John had hardly moved when the light had been switched on and was barely reacting to his father’s ministrations as he pushed under the plastic change mat before pulling off the plastic pants and begin to release the stained padding.

Manoeuvring a dead-to-the-world sixteen-year-old wasn’t easy. Although a slight groan escaped his thumb-sucking lips he wasn’t really conscious enough to know what was going on. When his eyes did open, he hardly took in that it was his dad who was trying to change his soiled nappy but, as if on automatic, when told to lift up, he did so.

Susan had already opened the windows wider and despite being told he’d deal with it, hovered nearby in case she was needed. She took the messy package from her husband and disposed of it in the bathroom, where she collected a towel, wipes and a bowl of warm water and sponge. David had already begun the clean-up but couldn’t pretend that what his wife brought was certainly more useful in dealing with the streaks and dirt a few wet wipes couldn’t clear up on their own.

As things progressed John started to come round a bit, although he still wasn’t totally engaged.

“Dada,” he mumbled around his spit-slicked thumb.

For a moment his words caught his father off-guard as he pinned part of his fresh nappy in place.

“Hmmm... yes son...” But then his boy’s eyes glazed over and he dropped off back to sleep.

A thicker pair of rubber pants were passed to him by Susan who thought they might contain any extra night time spillage better and David slowly, but methodically, pulled them into place and patted them down once he’d checked all the fleecy nappy was confined.

“Night-night son”

“Nighty-night sweetheart,” Susan added.

Their son was clean and safe for now but what would the morning bring.

#

I woke up incredibly groggy. My eyes took a few moments to focus but I could hear the rain beating at the window. I sighed because I knew Bruce would need to be taken out and I just wasn’t in the mood to ‘enjoy’ a summer downpour. Still, he’d need to be exercised so I thought I’d better get up and see to his needs.

As I swung my legs over the side of the bed, I became aware of the thick rubber pants I was wearing. I had no recollection of putting them on, yet they were securely holding my night nappy in place. To my relief, the padding wasn’t entirely soaked, though I could feel a definite dampness. I made a mental note to deal with that after I’d taken Bruce out for his walk. Glancing at the clock, I saw it was already past 10am. Mum and Dad had allowed me to sleep in, and with my memory of the previous night being hazy, I couldn’t recall what time I’d eventually gone to bed.

I pulled on some socks, a jumper and slipped up a pair of fleecy maroon shorts and headed downstairs. As soon as my feet hit the top of the landing Bruce came bounding up the stairs to greet me.

“Morning Brucie boy... who’s a good boy then,” I enthused as he madly wagged his tail and I gave him a wonderful long petting. I think we both needed that.

Mum stood at the bottom of the stairs. “Morning sweetheart... and how are you this morning?” I detected a slight note of concern in her voice but she was smiling so I knew all was okay.

“Fine, I think... just a little damp this morning, which is a change... not that I need one just yet,” I joked.

“Okay love, what do you want for breakfast... I can cook something if you fancy it?”

“Nothing at the moment, erm, I better see to Bruce first.”

“He’s fine, Dad took him out first thing before the rain started so... come sit... have something to eat and...” She disappeared into the kitchen so I didn’t catch the last bit of our exchange.

That was a bit of relief because I couldn’t remember where I’d left my wellington boots or where my orange plastic anorak and over-trousers, which I normally wear when out in the rain.

I arrived at the kitchen and Mum was putting the pan on the stove and slipping some bread in the toaster. “Scrambled egg on toast?”

“That sounds lovely thanks... erm...” I was feeling the tightness of the rubber pants once I sat down. “Do you know why I chose these...” I said showing the top to her as she went about cracking a couple of eggs in a bowl.

“Yes love, you had a bit of an accident last night, well, more than an accident actually, quite a blow out in more ways than one. We thought you might need the extra protection as it was quite a messy experience.”

“WHAT?” I didn’t remember any of that and a cold clammy guilty feeling crept into my damp nappy and a few more inadvertent spurts hit the material.

“Yes love, sorry to say it but, you sort of zoned out at one point and began sucking your thumb. I put you to bed but when we came up ourselves, you had filled you nappy and needed a change. Dad saw to you.”

“What do you mean I zoned out... I don’t...erm... what... did I do anything stupid?” I asked cautiously.

“Okay,” she said pushing a plate of scrambled egg in my direction, “I’ll let you know what happened and what Dad and I have decided.”

It sounded serious and wasn’t sure I had any appetite for the food or what was about to be disclosed but Mum had made this specially so I thought I’d better make an attempt to eat it. In fact, she wouldn’t start until I’d taken my first bite. Actually, the eggs were just as I liked them and once piled on well-buttered toast found myself slightly distracted from what Mum was saying. Once started I was thoroughly enjoying eating and my mind slipped into ‘food’ mode and everything else just tumbled into the background. Not only did I begin to cut everything into bite sized pieces, I found myself nodding, when Mum looked at me to see if I was listening. Through mouthfuls of scrumptious soft floaty egg and warm toast... I have no idea to what I was hearing or agreeing to.

#

Mum suddenly stopped talking. I hadn’t realised that I was humming a happy little tune as I ate with my fingers, which had drawn her attention to the fact that I was not really with her. I’d just about finished the last crumb of toast and sliver of egg when she came over and hugged me tightly. I heard a sigh. She lightly pushed her hand down the front of my shorts and noticed I was soaked.

“Okay sweetheart, brekkie over, time to get you into something dry... yes?”

There was part of me about to say I was fine and only a little damp, I had after all checked before I came down but she seemed adamant that I needed a change so wasn’t going to argue. However, I didn’t need her to do it I could do it on my own.

“Mum, it’s...” she was already leading me out of my seat and towards the kitchen door. “Look Mum it’s fine and I can do it myself...” I saw her look suspiciously at me. “Really, I’m just a little damp I can...”

“Sweetheart, you’re soaked. Not just a little but on the verge of leaking so...”

My hand immediately went and rubbed the front of my shorts. She was correct, the padding had grown all squishy I needed to sort things out, and quickly. Still, I wasn’t a little kid, although I’m sure Mum said something about it whilst I ate breakfast. What I did know was that I could and would change my own nappy.

“Sweetheart, you need help... you’re not yourself at the moment.”

I laughed. “Mum, I’m not a little kid I can sort out a wet nappy and...”

I didn’t realise the absurdity of that statement – ‘not a little kid’ and ‘wet nappy’ but barged my way past her and headed for my room. Since eating breakfast I’d peed into my nappy without being aware I had... so, what else did I miss?

I vaguely had the feeling that whilst sitting at the breakfast table, I’d felt peculiar when Mum spoke and ended up missing much of what was said. It was like I just drifted off to another place but where to... I had no idea. Unable to understand the reason myself, I found it impossible to explain it to her—so I didn't.

I made my way to the stairs and again felt a bit weird. As I stood on the bottom step unsure of what I was about to do. I knew that... erm... was I about to play with my... Ummm.....

Mum was right behind me.

#

Again, I saw it coming. That lost and distant look that told me he was no longer ‘in the room’ and could well be drifting or may already be regressing and my poor sweetheart had no idea. Although my opinions towards whatever Avril had done, whatever drugs she’d used, were coursing angrily through my system, it was what was coursing through his that required my attention. He seemed to slip back in control for a short while but...

He was in need of mummy’s help first and foremost so that’s where I aimed my concern.

He slumped down on his bed and looked confused. “Mummy, have you come to play with me?” He looked befuddled at the thought.

“Yes, sweetheart but first, let’s change that very wet nappy shall we and then you’ll be all nice and dry to play with your toys, huh?”

“Okay.” I watched as his thumb slipped between his lips, a gesture of comfort as he observed me gathering everything needed for a proper clean and change. My heart swelled with affection, seeing him lying quietly, childlike, simply allowing me to take care of him as any toddler with a wet nappy would, trusting me to sort it all out.

There was a teddy on the floor that I picked up and thought he might be happier holding a ‘friend’ close. I offered it to him and he joyfully took it and smiling, gave it a huge hug.

Once again, his nappy, as had become ‘normal’, was completely soaked. No matter whether at his morning change or anytime during the day, his nappy was always saturated. I didn’t know how much liquid he drank, although we did insist, he kept hydrated, perhaps he’d taken the instruction too literally. Anyway, he needed a complete clean up.

What unsettled me was how easily he switched back—one moment a typical, lively teenager, and the next just a young child with nappy troubles. I even caught myself smiling for a moment at the thought: here was a teen dealing with nappy issues. I kept wondering whether, halfway through changing him, he'd suddenly remember he's sixteen and resent Mum fussing over him and putting him in fresh padding. Still, I didn’t want to dwell on it, so I simply got on with what I had to do.

Although Dave and I had previously discussed this matter, I found caring for my son to be rewarding. While I did not wish for him to remain dependent, I didn’t harbour any negative feelings about it. It was what needed to be done. These moments reminded me of earlier times in his life and, despite their regressive nature, I viewed them positively. My primary problem was experiencing both satisfaction and guilt simultaneously, feelings I would have preferred to avoid but acknowledged, nonetheless. Although resentment towards Avril persisted due to her dishonesty, the change in Johnny’s behaviour to that of a young and innocent child was both unexpected and endearing. It wasn’t his fault but didn’t want my poor growing boy to be encased in nappies for the rest of his life.

#

When we chatted last night Dave and I had decided that through no fault of his own our son had probably been grievously affected by those drugged dummies. How it had affected his brain we didn’t know but there was no denying we could see the consequences here and now. He may well have taken to the nappies and other items easily but it was up to us to protect him from the effects of the drugs that were now in his system or, and this is what we were mainly concerned with, had they permanently affected his brain. We knew the police had Avril in custody and were still questioning her about the couple’s little laboratory and just what exactly the concoction was that they’d dreamt up. According to the police, it was her boyfriend who was the boffin and brains behind the invention and she was unaware of most of the component parts he’d created. Her job, once they’d tested it out, was to help in distribution. Apparently, he had big ambitions for what he saw as a niche but welcome addition to the dopehead world. Shame he was on the run and may well have returned to his home country by now. The chances of his return, either by choice or otherwise were very slim, his country of birth was not known to cooperate well with other police forces.  

#

“There you are sweetheart all nice and tidy.” I patted, as I always did, the mound of padding hidden behind a pair of soft though robust clear plastic pants with thicker than usual cuffs and waistband. I knew it was wrong because I was thoroughly enjoying getting my boy changed and into his fresh clean nappy. I needed to get rid of my contented smile as each piece of the process was completed. A guilty pleasure? Maybe but the lack of guilt at times made me wonder what I was playing at.

During the session with Dr. Laura I had admitted as much – I liked to look after my boy. Now he was in nappies that urge to be there whenever he needed me grew stronger and stronger and I couldn’t shake it off (not that I tried that much). I remembered him as a child and again it hit me that I wasn’t able to produce a brother or sister for him though through his regression, well, I felt shame and happiness because I was able to look after my little boy again. It filled a need I didn’t even know I had until the therapist made me face the decisions, I’d taken... and why.

Even now, when we’d been through everything and I’d seen my culpability (a word I was becoming less and less happy about) I was still enjoying this dependence. When I saw him first drop into his child-like state sucking on the dummy, there were parts of me that thought how sweet and wonderful this innocence is – a lad his age not caring about image simply having fun. Of course, now we know the real reason it isn’t something to be happy about... yet...

“Any idea which toys you want to play with?”

“Mum...” he looked at me as if I was a bit deluded, “I think we need to chat.” And just like that, lying there wearing only his fresh nappy and plastic pants, John, teenage John, was back with me and appeared ready to find out what exactly was going on.

#

Although much of what Mum shared with me was familiar, this time her deep concern regarding the potential consequences (and ongoing affects) of those drugged dummies was strikingly apparent. She spoke candidly about the changes she had observed in me, detailing the episodes that had occurred most recently, including my earlier relapse. Mum explained the steps she and Dad intended to take if, or when, the situation was to arise again, emphasising their readiness to respond and support me as best they could.

“I don’t think you can take away what Doctor Laura inferred – that you really like wearing nappies - as the total reason for your wetting.” She paused and rubbed my arm as I wasn’t sure what or how I should react to this admission. “Whatever it is, and maybe the police will have an answer soon, we will take each development and deal with it sympathetically...”

“Mum,” I wanted her to know something I thought was important, “I’m not suffering any hurt or bad feelings as a result of what’s in my system...”

“Well, that’s a bonus,” she interrupted, “but we need to keep an eye on things sweetie as we just don’t know where it will end.” She looked lovingly at me and said a little more. “The problem is love, erm, we don’t know that you know when what’s happening, is happening. You seem completely oblivious and although nothing bad has happened so far... we don’t know for certain that it won’t. We need to keep a close eye on you just so we know you’re safe.”

“I don’t want to be a worry. I don’t want either you or Dad to think...” Then I had another worrying thought. What about Terry? That session we’d had not so long ago was weird but wonderful. It was completely out of character... and yet... it felt great, normal, fun. How is he dealing with his feelings, drugged or otherwise, and do his parents know... should we tell them?

That recent session was something else my parents were unaware of but the occasion, although a fantastic encounter, was perhaps disturbing because of Terry’s keenness to act like a kid... a little kid that wanted to wear a nappy. The entire experience had been brilliant and he’d entered into the spirit of the situation without any prompting from me. He’d played his part and we spent a good few hours being childish and silly enjoying every moment of it. When it was time to stop, Terry just stopped. Weird or what?

Mum hugged me, her hands gently stroking and comforting my naked back, it was then I noticed I needed to put some clothes on as I was still only wearing a thick nappy but clear plastic pants. My state of undress wasn’t unusual but was it really the right outfit for a teenager speaking with his Mum? Besides, hadn’t Dad told me he would rather I put other clothes on rather than parade around wearing only my padding.

However, I needed to speak to Terry... perhaps we needed to speak with him.

#

Terry looked surprised when I invited him in. He had responded straight away after I called him thinking no doubt that we might be having another little childish session, I didn’t tell him otherwise. Mum and Dad were sat in the living-room and our guest visibly deflated when he saw the welcoming committee.

“Ah Terry,” Mum started in straight away, “glad you could come. We wanted to bring you up to date on what we’ve learned about the drugged dummies, the police investigation and to check that you are, well, umm, okay.”

He didn’t look any more relieved than he did when he came in but I detected a slight sigh as he settled down and my parents seemed to relish telling him their latest news. Terry just sat and listened although I did notice that he was actually paying attention to what he was being told. There was very little said about my psychiatrist visit, although it was implied, and thought I’d fill him in on that after all this updating the ‘criminal’ stuff had been finalised.

For several minutes, Mum and Dad carefully explained everything they had discovered, making it clear that, to the best of their knowledge, only Terry and I had actually tried the FruitiZuckers. They stressed this point repeatedly, highlighting that according to Avril’s admission, I was the only one she had knowingly given the soothers to, unaware that anyone had also sampled them. As a result, it appeared that only the two of us had been exposed to the drugs they had been laced with.

“Have you been feeling any after effects... like... strange feelings, emotions, slips into childhood?” Mum wasn’t waiting for him to confess; she wanted answers and wanted them now. She was going after Terry and didn’t want him to have time to make stuff up. What she got was what none of us expected.

# tbc #

 

Part 14

Terry’s initial suspicious attitude slowly vanished when faced with Mum’s probing. He let out a huge sigh, almost as if he had been anticipating such an inquisition but hadn’t truly prepared for it. Before long, we discovered the thoughts that had been occupying my best friend and confidante’s mind.

“This is something my parents are unaware of and I want to keep it that way but, if it helps with Johnny’s situation, and that with the police, although I’d appreciate it if you can keep me out of their enquiries, here goes.” He gave a grimace – half smile, half shrug – we were about to learn an awful lot about him than I ever knew or suspected.

Now before I go into what he said let me just say that I have known him for most of my life. We’ve been going to school together since kindergarten, had sleepovers, camping together and generally been around each other more often than not. Where we diverged is that he was far sportier than me and as we’ve gotten older, his friends have gravitated in that more ‘jock’ direction. Not that he’s left me out of his life but our interests have differed and we are no longer in each other’s pockets. So, what does that mean?

Well, this...

#

“When John mentioned he wore a nappy because he was wetting the bed...” I started to interrupt his assumption but he just held up his hand and carried on. “Look, I’ve got quite a bit to say so I’d appreciate it if you listened first and then...” My best friend was being quite assertive.

“Sorry.” I guiltily replied. Mum and Dad as one said, “Go on.”

“When I learned of his nappy wearing, I was shocked, I wasn’t sure if he was joking or not but he’s never been any good at telling lies so I had to believe him.”

As one Mum and Dad again nodded in agreement.

“Anyway, at first, I couldn’t help myself but to take the piss...” Terry paused, perhaps to gauge whether his pun about ‘wetting’ would land, but it was clear it hadn’t. I realised I’d never seen him quite like this before. Not long ago, we’d been messing about, acting like little kids, but now there was something different about him. At first, he seemed annoyed by his reception when he arrived, but now, he was much more collected, more self-assured—dare I say it, more grown up. Still, he simply gave a slight shrug and pressed on. “I mentioned my little cousin George and remarked how much John reminded me of him. That comment got me thinking about George and, in particular, an experience from about a year or so ago. I remember it vividly: it was a wet weekend, I was upstairs in my room, getting on with homework and studying for upcoming exams, when George unexpectedly gave me one of the happiest memories I’ve ever had.”

Now we were all on the edge of our seats.

#

“I heard a lot of childish screaming coming from the garden. I went to the window and looked down on to the nicely tended area, which was absolutely soaked with the amount of rain we’d had, er, were having. However, that hadn’t stopped my then three-year-old cousin from running around the sodden lawn, jumping in puddles and sliding into the muddy flower beds. He was screaming with the sheer joy of freedom – he was also only wearing his nappy, having stripped out of all his other clothes and shoes as his mother had forbidden him to go out in the rain and ruin what he was wearing. That hadn’t stopped him.

His mother was trying to goad him back indoors but he was having too much fun in the pouring rain. Even on his own he’d found something that was absolutely the most pleasurable and exciting thing to do and he wasn't going to give that up easily. He charged around totally ignoring his mother’s pleas to come in; splashing and skipping, sliding and falling, his nappy was filthy and about to fall off when he was eventually grabbed by her and taken back indoors.”

“Kids, eh?” Dad said and we all smiled.

“But what had hit me most was – here I am, inside, swotting like an idiot, not going out, not having fun and for just a few minutes my little cousin had shown what living was truly about.”

There was a knowing nod from me but a less serious nod from my parents.

“I was jealous, not just envious, but absolutely green with jealousy because of that ability, that total lack of worry he’d exhibited and the sheer unashamed fun he had even when he slipped in the puddles. He was on a completely different level of living than I could remember ever being myself.” Terry beamed around at all of us, his face lit up with a sort of evangelical exuberance as if he’d found the answer.

#

“Of course, I don’t know how but I’d all but forgotten about it until Johnny here mentioned his need to wear a nappy. That brought the entire scene flooding back because that little tyke, wearing only a nappy, had made a memory that, when feeling depressed, as occasionally I do, I desperately wanted to emulate in one way or another.” He took a breath and checked we were still all onboard, or at least listening. “Being a toddler gives you an excuse to have fun that being a teenager... or adult... doesn’t...” he looked at mum and dad to see their reaction, they just shrugged. “So, I wanted to be a kid again... for a little while anyway.”

He paused for a few beats to see if there was any reaction. His expression made me think he was asking “Does that make sense to anyone but me?”

“Later I could hear his childish voice talking to himself coming from the bathroom where his mum had deposited him to clean up after his garden mud bath. I trooped along and she asked me to keep an eye on him whilst she went to organise his fresh nappy or whatever. The bath was full of bubbles but he was playing with a couple of bath toys which I recognised. They were a couple of boats that I used to play with when I was a kid. Where they’d come from, I had no idea.”

There was a wonderful smile on Terry’s face as he continued.

“Anyway, he was sat up in the tub. His head covered in bubbles and his pale wet little frame shining where mottled sunbeams coming in through the patterned bathroom window made him glow. There were still muddy smudges on his face so I knelt down next to the bath, got a sponge and started to clean him up. His childish speech, questions and total disregard about doing anything but enjoying the warm bath, the bubbles, his toys had enticed me into his world. He loved having his uncle occasionally splashing him and getting involved in his little action story regarding his boats... well... it was equally magical for me.”

Terry sighed at his memory.

“As I remember it... in the space of just a few extraordinary minutes my little cousin had, without any knowledge of his part in it, made a lovely stamp on my mind. That innocence, that wonder, that imagination... that absolutely wonderful play with no worries... bloody hell... it was terrific. However, all that had only been released and came flooding back after Johnny here said he had to wear a nappy because he wet his pants.”

I looked on hardly believing what my friend had got from my admission of needing such a personal item.

“Now those memories have recently taken root and I can hardly think of anything else.” Terry seemed to be both apologising and trying to justify himself. “Even my rather pitiful exam results didn’t seem to matter. Had I been concentrating on the wrong thing... things that didn’t matter?”

#

I’m not sure Mum or Dad agreed with his assessment but I could certainly latch onto his way of thinking. It hadn’t hit me the same way but there was no denying that feeling of silly, no control, no limit exuberance was somehow enhanced, and probably fed, by wearing padding. Well at least it was for me.

I wanted to shout “YES YES YES” to all that Terry had said but had probably experienced it in a different way. I instinctively ran my hand over my ever-present slinky protection and it calmed me; that feeling and comfort, that soft security my padding and plastic pants always gave me... whether a teen or tot.

Mum had a question, “But what about the drugged dummies?”

“Well,” he took a bit of time to get more of his thoughts in gear, “I wasn’t aware of what was happening at first. Johnny and me were unknowingly spaced out but it wasn’t a bad feeling. It opened our minds to possibilities, to silliness, to well, I dunno, a different way of acting, which I think was motivated by his obvious love of wearing a nappy.” He smiled in my direction.

“Are you blaming me?” I asked suspiciously but already knew the answer was Yes.

“Well yes. They were your dummies, your nappies and your plastic pants but, and this was what I found absolutely incredible - all that, and the drugs I s’pose, made for a wonderful, enjoyable experience. All these thoughts came to the surface and I thought – Why not – let’s have some unrestricted fun.

I don’t think my parents were quite sure if this was right or not but sat nodding and taking in his observations of the event while he expanded on it a little more.

“When I got home, I couldn’t believe what I’d just gone through. I couldn’t explain it to myself and when Mum saw the nappy, well, I just told her the truth, like a little kid who couldn’t lie, that you’d changed me into it.” He looked at Mum, “Sorry, it just came out and I couldn’t take it back or think of a better excuse... I felt I was still only a kid.”

“Well, it did take a lot of explaining to your mum... did she believe what I told her?” Mum wondered.

“I think she accepted it because the alternative was just too confusing and distressing. It was the best answer to a strange situation...”

“Hmmm, that’s what I thought,” Mum nodded knowing that her and Holly were still not quite on the best of terms like they used to be.

#

“So,” Dad said as if finally coming to some kind of conclusion, “as I’ve said, the police are still investigating but so far your name hasn’t been mentioned, mainly because I just didn’t know what your involvement was.”

“I’d appreciate you keeping it that way if possible...” there was a note of pleading in his voice.

“I’m not sure I can because it’s police and a criminal matter, AND, we don’t know what effect, short or long term, the drugs have or will have. It might be best to let them know... for your own safety.”

“Well please keep my name out of it for as long as possible. If it comes down to it you can say you never knew I’d had one of those dummies and I’ll back you up”

“Okay, I’ll see what I can do but you have to understand that the drugs, whatever they are or whatever they do, have had a real effect on Johnny and he is our prime concern. We will not jeopardise any possible recovery...”

I wanted to add my input which I hoped would be useful.

“I sucked on them enthusiastically... they tasted great and the feelings I got from all that sucking felt an increased normality... if I can explain it that way.” I paused letting them know how I experienced it. “I seemed to drift into a childlike stance without being aware that was what was happening but didn’t mind... in fact... quite enjoyed it.”

Terry added his own addition to the overall experience, “Can I just say that any reaction since that first time has been because it was something I wanted to do. I just wanted to repeat that Georgy moment... that lack of inhibition...”

“Yes, that’s all very well,” Mum interjected, “but it’s different for John... he needs help and treatment because of occasional lapses when he really has no idea where he is or who he is for that matter. You say you’re not affected, well good, but how can we be sure, you might not even be aware of it like John here?” She pointed, I thought unnecessarily, in my direction.

However, at that moment although swaddled in a nappy and feeling fine I was still thinking as a teen and not a tot and could still identify with everything that Terry had said.

He insisted that he’d not been affected to the same degree because he’d been well aware of the times since the dummy he’d worn a nappy and acted like a kid had only happened when with me. He’d loved how it felt and was envious of the fact that I was so happy wearing a nappy and enjoying acting a little bit childish... he wanted that for himself.

“Excuse me for saying this” Terry had a look of pleading in his eyes, “but it was like John had already found that freedom to just be a kid and enjoy... well... what being a kid offers.”

The discussion lingered for a while, gradually losing momentum as it drifted into vague assurances and unconvincing nods of agreement. Eventually, the matter seemed to settle, at least for the time being, though nothing felt truly resolved.

Afterwards, I took Terry back up to my room. He asked if he could have a few more disposables, which I was able to provide. I also offered him a couple of thick fabric nappies, but he hesitated; despite being tempted, he felt his mum would never let him get away with having them. I decided not to press the issue further.

Nonetheless, Terry discreetly tucked the ones I gave him under his jacket before leaving. I understood his decision—things had grown a bit too intense, and he was eager to retreat to the privacy of his own home.

#

During the discussion, I stayed mature and felt content with both mine and Terry's views. While I knew Mum and Dad had a duty of care and their concern was understandable, I wasn't distressed by any of it and struggled to see why they worried so much.

However, back in my room, and now that Terry had gone, I was checking my nappy and it was still relatively dry. Not for the first time I was staring in the mirror trying to see if I could detect any differences in my face or body; had I changed at all over the time since I started wearing all this stuff?

It’s funny, I’m not a vain person (well, I didn’t think so) but I was giving myself a really good scan trying to see if anything odd had appeared. Apart from the fact that at sixteen I now constantly wore padding I could see no change. The thick nappy and plastic pants just hugging my groin was how I liked it and caressed the slinky bulge with total appreciation.

I stared into my eyes as if trying to inspect my brain but got nowhere with that although it got me thinking about something Terry had said - any reaction since that first time has been because it was something I wanted to do. I just wanted to repeat that Georgy moment... that lack of inhibition... was this the same for me? Except maybe, because of the FruitiZuckers, something I’d sucked on with more than a little enthusiasm, things had been unlocked, feelings dialled up a few notches, was the drugs telling my body this is what I wanted?

There was no doubt, even before the drugged dummies, when I actually thought about it like I was now, that I’d enjoyed the idea of being childish and silly as each piece of padding and clothing Dreamtime sent captivated my attention. It also seemed that that was precisely what they were designed for; to feel at ease with such reactions. Had I been just too keen, amenable to their sales-pitch or had it just stirred a subconscious, my eager and willing subconscious, my fondness for wearing a nappy, into action?

#

There was another thing I needed to consider, my parents. I had become more of a problem than an asset to the family and they were worried because they simply didn’t know what to do. A sixteen-year-old with anxiety problems and having to wear protection as a result was one thing but, a teenager who suddenly becomes a toddler, well, I could see why that was causing more than a little concern. Although I thought none of it bothered me, it was bothering them and so I needed, or someone somewhere needed, to sort it all out. We’d all hoped that the session with Doctor Laura would do the trick and although she had managed to give us part of the answer – I liked to wear nappies – there needed to be a medical explanation for the way I now react and there needed to be a solution. I can’t let mum and dad be constantly worrying about me so... even though I was fairly comfortable with the state of affairs, I knew we needed a result from the police labs who were investigating just what had gone into those drugged dummies.

#

Dad had said that Avril had denied knowing the recipe and I was struggling to remember an edition of Silent Witness, the forensic show, where they had to ‘back engineer’ some substance found in a dead body. On TV it only took a smart young eager boffin to trace the cause in minutes... I just hoped the police in our neighbourhood had such a person on call.

“Ahem!” Dad was standing at my bedroom doorway carrying a couple of large black bin bags. “The police have returned these and, although I’m none too keen, these are things that might be useful or needed by you.”

My eyes lit up because I knew precisely these were the things we’d sent to be analysed.

“The experts have said there is no hidden substances in the material and as far as they are concerned Dreamtime are not involved in any conspiracy or trying to reshape people with the aid of hidden drugs. So, these are yours for when you feel the need.”

He plonked them down on my bed and then sat down beside me and gave me a huge hug.

“I know I don’t know what’s going on but, like I promised your mother, I promise you that we’ll get through this and I’ll do what I can to make the situation as stress-free as possible for you.”

He hugged and kissed my head.

“I love you son and I know that none of this is your fault. I’ve given both you and Mum a hard time but... that’s now changed... we’ll do what we have to do and take extra care when you need it.”

I hugged dad back as hard as I could... I don’t know why but tears were streaming down my face.

#

Dad just sat holding me. I had no idea where all this emotion had suddenly come from but I loved the fact that it was Dad who was there with me. There was something strong, firm and reliable in his manly embrace and I didn’t want it to stop. I felt like I had when a little kid and needed him to ‘make things better’ when I fell off my bike or grazed my knee. There were memories that filled my head - when he’d made everything right by just being himself and making me feel safe. I loved my dad more than I ever thought and saw just how much he loved me.

He patted my padding, “Are you wet?”

“No Dad,” I murmured into his chest, “just happy.”

He gently pulled me away and looked into my weepy eyes. “Let’s try and keep it that way shall we?” and smiled, patted my padding again and kissed my head.

Hell, those electric few moments together meant such a lot.

#

The following day there was a development, the police called and requested that I see one of their specialists to examine me. They also wanted a more detailed account of what exactly has happened to me since I first tasted the FruitiZucker. They wanted a timeline, which was difficult for my parents to piece together because not everything that happened, I’d told them about, some quite simply because I wasn’t aware of what was happening. One thing was for sure, I had regressed more often and my nappies seemed to be almost permanently soaked.

With my help, and with what I could remember, we all started to piece together the last few weeks. They only wanted to know from the first taste of the drugged dummies so we were able to focus on that. I insisted that we keep Terry’s involvement out of it until we had no option... if indeed it came to that. I did my best to contribute and Mum typed up a timeline and added her own comments and observations to each date. When we’d finished it looked both comprehensive and professional. As requested, she emailed it to the police and to a Dr. Thanakom Thongcharoen at a specialist unit which was based in the city about twenty miles away. We were told (not requested) to be at the clinic for an appointment by noon when tests and an examination would take place - a parent or guardian should accompany John - it said in bold letters. It didn’t mention how long I’d be there or what exactly the Doctor would be doing but at least, as far as Dad could determine, they were doing something.

#

It was quite a lovely summer’s morning when we set off to the Specialist Unit. Mum had got me ready after a thorough showering and made sure all areas were anointed with lotion and sprinkled with pleasantly fragrant talc. My thick disposable had an extra soaker pad included and the tight blue plastic pants held it all together. I wore my favourite dark blue corduroy shorts and a pale blue zippered sweatshirt over the pink and blue striped polo shirt... I thought I looked pretty cool.

I can’t pretend I wasn’t a bit apprehensive because I was venturing into the unknown but Mum was with me and I knew nothing would happen without her say so. Dad had said he’d take a day off from work to come and join us but it seemed a bit of an extravagance having both my parents there. He eventually gave in under the express proviso Mum kept him totally informed.

I phoned Terry the night before and told him what was happening and he wished me luck but added, “I hope they don’t change you.” I have to say that hit my heart a bit... it was such a nice caring thing to say. It was only later that night that I thought about it and wondered if it was simply because he wanted me to stay a kiddie playmate for him. Eventually, I dismissed that particular way of thinking and settled on he was being nice.

The ‘Specialist Unit’ was actually a modern wing – The Blair Wing – of the city’s main, but old hospital. The reception was all shiny and new with a very professional feel. There was artwork on the walls and soft music playing in the foyer, the receptionist, was a pleasant middle-aged lady who greeted us with a smile and efficiently took our details. After scanning her computer for a few seconds, she beamed back, “Ah yes, Dr Thana is on the second floor. If you’d like to take the lift and you’ll see his surgery on the right-hand side.” She smiled and pointed to the lifts further down the lobby and we made our way to the Doctor’s office glad that we’d made some effort to dress for this occasion. Everything about this place was definitely ‘private’ and not ‘NHS’ judging by the other elegant patrons/patients we passed on our short journey.

#

According to the plaque outside his door Dr. Thanakom Thongcharoen had a host of letters after his name, none of which either me or Mum knew what they meant. Doctor Thana, as he introduced himself, was a small, tight, Thai man with impeccable manners and a wonderful easy-going, if slightly accented speech pattern. I liked him straight away. He looked at a screen then at Mum and me with a smile on his face and complimented the detailed email we’d sent, “very professional” was his verdict, which made Mum look like the cat who’d just got the cream.

 

“As I see from your report you’ve already had sessions with a psychiatrist and she was dealing with the fact that you are still wearing and wetting your nappies, even though the initial cause was thought to be anxiety.” He saw us both nod so carried on. “Her basic conclusion was that it may have been anxiety that started you off... it is the fact that you now like the situation... hmm?” Once more, he looked at us both for any comment but we had nothing new to add. “However, the introduction of the drugged pacifiers has, as far as you are aware, made you more susceptible to regression... a development where you are not in control. Is that your take as well?”

Mum nodded, “In a nutshell, yes.”

I looked at Mum; she looked at me and we both looked at the Doctor.

“OK then,” he said, “Let’s get some blood and a few other little tests and see what we can make of all this shall we?”

I thought his attitude was much like my own, it wasn’t a big deal but, as it turned out, I was fooling myself.

The reason for this was I suddenly felt myself slipping away and started crying as I peed my nappy then, as if on autopilot, feeling scared, leaned across and sought Mum’s protection with a needy cuddle.

“Oh Doctor... he’s relapsing.” I vaguely heard Mum inform our host.

#

Part 15

I was glad Dr Thana was there. It would be hard to explain exactly what happens when John zones out but he was able to witness precisely what arose - as it occurred. What he saw was the way a confident teen rapidly dissolved into being a small child. John wanted to climb all over me but I was able to gently set him down on to the floor, whilst watching him start to crawl around and investigate the doctor’s office. Meanwhile, the doctor looked a little bemused but nodded that he understood what was happening without any explanation from me. Still, I thought I’d better say something.

“He’s okay in himself... he’s not hurting or suffering.... he likes being little. I only wished I’d thought to bring some toys with me... sorry” I added needlessly apologising.

Doctor Thana went to his desk and brought out a colouring book and some crayons and set them down for John to see. My son beamed in childish delight, grabbed at them and then chose a blue crayon to start.

“I also deal with youngsters as well as my research into chemical abuse and addiction.” The doctor offered by way of explanation.

Busy man I thought. “Oh, erm, what do we say to the nice man Johnny?”

“Erm, fank oo misser.”

His voice seemed so small and I don’t think I’ve heard him sound so babyish before.

The Doctor was studying him intently and I had to hold my tongue from trying to clarify things even more. I don’t know why but I thought everything John did, every movement he made, needed to be addressed.

“Hmmm,” the Doctor made a note on his computer, “just how often does this happen... do you think?”

He seemed aware that this might happen when I’m not around (or no one else there to witness it) but I had hoped I’d clarified this as much as I could in the earlier email.

“It seems to be getting more often but, and this is what’s really strange, he always seems incredibly happy, even if he’s wetting or messing his nappy. He loves his toys and stuffed animals and when his...” I stopped myself just in time from mentioning his friend Terry being involved. “Erm, when either me or his father are around to play with him his face lights up and he, um, giggles a lot.”

“Giggles?”

“Yes, that’s why we think he enjoys it so much... he just keeps smiling and loves his play time. As a fairly clever sixteen-year-old student, he’s passed all his exams with flying colours...” I had to get that in so the doctor didn’t think my son was just a silly little kid with no prospects or anything.

“I see. So, before the drugged pacifiers he was quite a high achiever... academically?”

“Yes”

“Did he show any leanings towards wanting to be younger or maybe even babied before then?” He ruffled John’s hair and received a huge grin in return.

“Not that we’d noticed but once we had him wearing nappies because of his anxiety incontinence he just seemed to stick to them and didn’t bother with other underwear so...” I shrugged. I left it open because I wanted to tell the truth but the truth was... we simply didn’t know. “The fact is doctor, that we thought it was just worry about his exams but that’s all over. However, his wearing of nappies has become ‘normal’, he seems to prefer them. Nonetheless, certainly since using those FruitiZuckers... his desire for, and enjoyment of, more juvenile clothes and play things has increased.”

#

I wasn’t sure if I should relate the entire Dreamtime and Avril involvement in getting John to where he is now regarding clothing preferences because the real reason, we were seeing this expert was because of the possible drugs circulating in John’s system.

“Okay,” the doctor seemed to have come to a decision, “we need to get that blood and I can then do an analysis and hopefully get you and the police some answers.”

The problem I saw now was that as he’d regressed so much would I be able to get John to let the doctor take some blood... could I somehow convince him it was a game? However, Doctor Thana got in first.

“Hey Johnny, would you like to see my lab with all its colourful gizmos and stuff?” He excitedly invited John who was lying on the floor colouring in his book. He seemed to like the idea and enthusiastically nodded his head and reached out to be helped up so he could follow the nice man.

#

The lab was quite impressive, not from size because it was actually quite a small area but from the mass of electronic screens, dials and apparatus that vibrantly blinked, flashed or sparkled as we entered. John was enthralled.

“Now then young man,” the doctor cajoled, “would you like to help me test some of these machines?”

John was looking at the screens with colourful charts and graphs and although not sure what was going on nodded in agreement.

“Well thank you.” He reached over and picked up a soft ‘helmet’ with wires attached and asked if it was okay for him to fit it onto John’s head. “When I turn this on it will begin to light up images on this screen,” he said pointing to a large display, “and it tracks signals bouncing around inside your noddle” He explained as he gently tapped my son’s head. “All that is going on in here will then appear as colourful images on the screen so you can see pretty patterns... okay?”

John’s enthusiasm seemed to grow as he watched the swirls on screen.

“Now, while you look at that, I need to take a little of you blood to put into this other machine over here,” he pointed to yet another piece of apparatus, “which should let us know what’s in your system at the moment.” He looked to see if there was any reaction from John but he was too engrossed with what was happening on screen to notice. “You’ll feel a little scratch but your mummy’s here so no need to worry and it will be over in a few seconds...okay?”

Again, John didn’t react he was spellbound by the way his brainwaves were lighting up various parts of an image of his head.

“Oooohhh.” Was all he contributed and thankfully didn’t react to the phial of blood the doctor extracted from his arm. He immediately pressed it into another piece of electronic equipment and tapped in some instructions where, after a couple of muted beeps, another screen began to show different coloured spikes on a graph.

He looked to me. “These various spikes show different factors that are in his system. His brainwaves are recording things I haven’t seen before but put them together and perhaps we can determine exactly what is happening.”

This sounded promising but as yet I wasn’t getting my hopes up. He performed a few more routine tests, one of which involved strobe lighting flashed into John’s eyes. He suddenly looked around him and asked where he was before apparently regaining his senses. John was back being a teenager.

“Now that’s interesting,” Doctor Thana observed, whilst the spikes on the brain scan showed several colours darting to other areas. “Now then... I think...” and he tweaked a couple of things that overlay information, “Ah yes, look... that might explain... erm... well... hmmmm.” He wasn’t giving much away but it appeared some doubt had flittered across the Thai doctor’s previously knowledgeable face.

“Okay, we can lose that for the time being.” He removed the wiry helmet and the image on the screen beeped and froze. “Now then John,” he used a pen light to check his eyes. “How are you feeling now.”

John shrugged and wriggled a little uncomfortably in his chair. “Ermmm!”

From the newly developing odour and expanded size of John’s shorts I knew he needed a change and asked the doctor if there was somewhere I could do that. He indicated a handicapped toilet further down the corridor. At least I’d remembered to bring a couple of spare disposables and, if needed, a fresh pair of plastic pants. We both toddled down the hallway, John’s cute little waddle was something that I’d gotten used to but perhaps, for now at least, I needed to simply be Mum and sort my son’s messy padding out. Who knows, maybe, by the end of today, we’ll have answers to everything.

“Mum, I can change myself...” but despite the return of his teenage status I wasn’t going to let him do that. I wanted to know precisely what was going on in his nappy and a particularly messy one needed my involvement to make sure the job was done correctly. He saw my look of determination and just relaxed as I removed his shorts, eased down those slippery plastic pants and got on with eliminating the smelly and well used nappy. It took a few minutes to get him clean enough by just using wet wipes. Eventually I think I had him relatively hygienic enough to replace his disposable and return him to something normal, fresh and dry. We both sighed and smiled in recognition of a job done well.

After the change and we returned to the doctor’s lab I’d hoped that before we left that he’d have some results for us. Alas he said he needed to do more tabulations and compare data from other sources, such as Doctor Answah’s previous blood test, before he could give us a definite response, which he’d also have to discuss with the police before any further steps could be taken. However, he seemed positive (well as much as he could be) and said that there was, or at least appeared to be, a chemical imbalance in John’s system but it might take a few days to sort out just what remedies could be advised. He’d be in touch as soon as he knew what action to take.

#

On the way home I asked Mum what exactly had gone on because I wasn’t sure I recalled it correctly. She explained but I just remembered colouring in and looking at multicoloured ‘paintings’ on a screen. Anyway, Mum seemed satisfied that something was being done and hoped we were a few steps nearer some kind of resolution. I just felt happy that I had a fresh clean nappy on and that was enough for me. That was the thing, no matter what was happening all that concerned me was that I was wearing a nappy that hugged me tightly and so felt protected and fortunate. Not sure Mum or Dad got that.

However, there was something that Mum noticed - the strobe lights that brought me out of my regression - she thought was interesting.

She explained that when she and Dad were at university quite a few of the visiting bands that played in the student’s union used strobe lighting and remembered quite a few of the audience reacted to the flashing, some not too well. At certain frequencies the number of flickers per second affected some the audience’s brains and they were prone to seizures or some other psychotic episode. I only know this because I heard her explaining my doctor’s visit to Dad and she brought all that up. Both of them found it interesting though I couldn’t see how it applied to me as I didn’t think I’d gone psychotic, well, at least, I didn’t think so. Anyway, back in my bedroom and with Bruce gently nuzzling my hand as I stroked my slippery bulge, I looked it up on my laptop to see why it was of such interest to them.

https://neurolaunch.com/effects-of-strobe-lights-on-the-brain/

Neurological and Cognitive Effects

Strobe lights produce rapid, intense flashes of light at regular intervals, which can synchronize with brain wave patterns in a phenomenon called the frequency following response. This can lead to altered states of consciousness, euphoria, visual illusions, or time distortion. Exposure may also influence neurotransmitter release, including dopamine and serotonin, affecting mood and cognitive function. Some people report enhanced visual acuity or “visual trailing,” where moving objects appear to leave a trail behind them due to the brain’s processing limits under rapid flashing light.

Oh, now I saw why they found it important... maybe they thought that the drug that Avril and her boyfriend had developed was somehow laced with a psychotic inducing element. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to delve further or leave it to the professionals to sort out. However, Bruce had become insistent that I gave him as much attention as I was giving my slippery protection. So, understandably, I decided to leave it to the experts and the resources they had available rather than get myself worked up over something I knew nothing about. Nevertheless, after I’d gathered all this new information, and with Bruce licking my face in appreciation, the question I found myself left with was why was it still affecting me AND more importantly, what, if any effect did it have on my nappy preference?

#

Dr. Thanakom Thongcharoen was perplexed. After taking time to observe, analyse, and compare, he realised that the spikes on his graphs—which at first convinced him that hallucinogens were present—were actually caused by something else. The levels of toxins lingering in John's system from his last FruitiZucker were minimal; Banisteriopsis caapi and Psychotria viridis, two Amazonian plants, which appeared to have been synthesised by the pharmacist’s boyfriend and, together with a blend of Ecstasy and various fruit flavourings had produced a very pleasant and easy, if subversive way of distribution – the FruitiZucker. However, what was now apparent was that John’s brain was generating its own chemical makeup. Whether this was initially triggered by the drugged pacifier or stemmed from something deep within John’s psyche or even a natural bodily occurrence remained unclear to Dr. Thongcharoen.

Nevertheless, on further investigation his spectrometers and other analytical instruments clearly indicated that whatever Amazonian exotic substances had been there were now nearly gone, and Johnny’s regression into childhood was apparently largely driven by his own mind. Those weird brain spikes on the graph and colour clusters on the synaptic scan were quite incredible. It seemed unlikely, but all the current data pointed to this conclusion. Johnny’s brain was the cause, and since the family were adamant that his bedwetting and desire for nappies began before he started using a FruitiZucker, perhaps it was during an earlier experience where everything began. Could a past or existing ‘trauma’ have affected the sixteen-year-old so profoundly? Was it a natural but as yet undetected mental aberration? Dr. Thana knew he needed to probe further, but at least he had the scientific results the police required for their prosecution, even if they weren’t the answers John’s family sought.

#

It was five days after the visit to the Blair Wing when we got a call that the doctor would like me to go in again and have further tests. Apparently, because of their suspicions (but lack of findings) I had now become something of a cause célèbre (as Mum described it) and they needed to know what exactly was going on in my head. Apparently, very few of the readings of my brain activity and chemical make-up made much sense so, they wanted to undertake a more thorough examination.

However, before that time I’d met up with Terry and told him what I knew but that we’d kept him out of the story, he was very grateful. Alas, we didn’t return to wearing just our nappies and play with our toys, instead we went and met up with our other friends and hung around with them... as teenagers. Although he’d said that he still enjoyed wearing a nappy from time to time, he thought it best to leave it be for the time being. Also, during those few days, as far as I was aware, I didn’t slip back into any regression, which was a shame... I really enjoy it there even if I wasn’t sure what was going on. Actually, I only assume I enjoyed it because I wasn’t always aware of what was happening. On the other hand, with the return of most of the Dreamtime clothing I was happy, very happy in fact, to get back to dressing in all my favourite, if childish, outfits on my own.

Anyway, now the police had their answers, Avril and her boyfriend, in his absence (absentia) were charged and the case was scheduled for a later date. However, because of my regression, and although the thinking was the drugs were only partially to do with it, they were waiting on Dr. Thanakom Thongcharoen final appraisal of my condition to know what the exact terms of the prosecution would entail.

Meanwhile, the follow up email the hospital sent included the fact that because of the nature of the extensive tests it would take more than a day to complete and said I should prepare to be kept in for at least one night and possibly two. This made me very nervous and I peed my nappy, which I’d only just changed into. Dad seemed pleased that something important was happening and hoped that they would finally get to the bottom of my need for nappies. I’d explained on many occasions it was just because I preferred to wear them but Dad as always wanted to know WHY? He still wasn’t satisfied with the psychiatrist’s assessment.

#

Mum asked the Doctor if she could stay throughout the procedures as she had for the earlier tests. Doctor Thana said she could if she wanted but there would be a great deal of movement around the hospital to various MRIs, scanners and a good deal of other specialist areas and suggested that it might be best, if I was agreeable, to just be on my own.

“We have a great deal to do and want to do it as quickly as possible but, as mentioned, it would include having John stay overnight for us to observe his brain functions and sleep patterns.”

I told Mum not to worry and that I’d be alright.

“But what if you have a relapse and want your Mummy...?” She asked wiping a stray hair from my forehead.

“Well to be straight with you Mrs Benedict... this is something we also need to monitor without you being around.” Dr Thana’s tone was definite and I think made it clear that she’d be only be getting in the way if she insisted on staying.

“Seriously Mum,” I tried to reassure her, “it’s only overnight... I think at sixteen having Mum staying in the hospital with me sends out the wrong message.” I missed the irony in that statement.

So, reluctantly Mum left me with the doctor and his assistants and I began a series of tests that started with me stripping down to my nappy and plastic pants (I was in a little room on my own to change), putting on a hospital gown and then being led to a room for a full MRI scan. I’d seen such machines on TV but to be honest, it looked bigger and scarier than I would have admitted to. I tried not to let my anxiety show and smiled nervously as they got me to lie out on the thing and began to fit various attachments. Unfortunately, I could feel my nappy warm up as I began to nervously flood it.

In the meantime, I watched as the assistants all congregated in a small room with screens and various other gadgets off to the corner of the ‘operating theatre’, or whatever they called it, and I tried to calm my nerves as one of them slipped headphones and a cover over my head.

#

Although I wasn't positive if the machine could detect my soaked disposable under the plastic pants, I knew the team were watching monitors linked to me in that little office, so suspected I probably no longer had any secrets. Despite having noise blocking head phones, the racket from the MRI was quite a surprise. Several passes just scanned my head but I became aware that the calming words being relayed to me didn’t seem to be quite as reassuring. I couldn’t see what was going on in the other room where the team were all gathered but I certainly detected some uncertainty.

I had no idea how long I was in the MRI for but no sooner was I extricated from it than I was guided into a different room, hooked up to another type of brain scanner via a soft helmet with even more wires protruding from it and told to relax. How the hell could I relax when I was sitting in a soaked nappy and being asked questions, I couldn’t think quick enough to answer. I wanted my mum but as I was being a brave teenager thought better than to ask for her. However, my nappy did need a change though wasn’t sure, if they hadn’t noticed, how to bring it up.

Although they did not share much info with me, they frequently referred to the previous results and actively compared that figure with what they were currently reading on screen. They kept looking from me to the results and then back again, their fixed smiles not hiding their confusion.

“Found something,” I eventually ventured.

“Erm, well,” This wasn’t the usually erudite Doctor Thana but one of his assistants, “you appear to have, at times, uuummm, high levels of dopamine and...”

He could tell I had no idea what he was talking about so simply said that there were some abnormalities between my earlier readings from when I first visited, the blood results they’d recently received from Doctor Answah and the ones they were seeing now. It was Doctor Thana who pointed out that the first results from five days before were when I was in my ‘regressive state’.

The group as a whole seemed to express a combined mumble of understanding. “Which is why we have Mr Benedict with us today,” The Doctor continued addressing his colleagues. “We have an opportunity to study something we haven’t seen before or calculated in our previous studies. Mr Benedict, um, Johnny here,” he smiled his approval at me, “is giving us all a rare glimpse into his head and mind, which in turn gives us these remarkable calibrations of the various protein levels that make up the multitude of neurological patterns and how they present themselves as a possible age regression pathway.”

He implied I was somehow unique or different, so I guess their attentiveness was a boost to my self-esteem. Still, I couldn't ignore the persistent discomfort of my damp and aggravating nappy.

“’Scuse me...” I tried to get someone’s attention, “but do you have anywhere where I could change.” I didn’t want to tell them I was wearing a nappy though thought they probably all knew. I need...”

“Oh yes my apologies Johnny.” Doctor Thana looked around and found one of his female assistants. “Would you be so kind as take Johnny to the changing station and help him. Oh, and please keep his wet nappy, we will need it to run some tests... well... we needn’t go into those details just now.” He said as an afterthought.

As soon as Doctor Thana had finished speaking, I was escorted away by a visibly flustered assistant. It was clear from her expression that she was uncertain about the level of involvement required in my change, perhaps even feeling slightly awkward about the task ahead. For my part, I actually preferred when someone else handled the process. There was a comforting sense of security and snugness that came from having another pair of hands take charge, so I was more than happy to let her manage everything.

Given the circumstances, I wasn’t sure when I’d have the opportunity for another change, so I resolved to make the most of this one. While the team remained focused on their screens and the ongoing study, my priority was simply to ensure I felt as comfortable and secure as possible. Ultimately, all I wanted was to be snug and settled, even as the scientific investigation continued around me.

#

“Look here,” Doctor Thana gathered his team around the dual display, “we can see that the levels of dopamine, serotonin, oxytocin... in fact, all hormone levels are out of balance.” He pointed to the sharp peaks and troughs on the coloured graph and the overlaid images of John’s brain where most of the activity took place. “We can see from the earlier tests when he was in a regressive state... they were aligned to what could be regarded as the wrong areas of his brain.”

There was the general sound of agreement and interest.

“Could that be the result of the drugs we know entered his system?” One knowledgeable voice asked.

“Well of course we have to take that into consideration but the history of John’s need and use of nappies pre-dates that occasion... and further more... now we see most of the traces of the drug have disappeared we are left with a different thought... did the drug enable these bizarre groupings of hormones to produce this strangely accepting state of affairs?”

“But surely doctor, there are any number of teenagers who like to wear nappies...”

“Indeed, there are, but, in my research into youth disorders I have never seen this combination of negative and positive displacement of the key ingredients to brain function. The makeup of one of the neural pointers is like nothing I’ve ever seen before. It is a mystery as to why this is happening, and, as there are no traumas or physical attributes reported to where Johnny is at the moment, we might be on the verge of seeing and diagnosing a rare, if not unique, event indeed.” He looked around at his entranced assistants. “We need to try and induce him to regress so we can monitor the process from start to finish and have a clearer idea of just what is happening inside the lad’s head.”

There was a murmur of excited approval.

#

Ffion was the name of the carer who came to help. She asked what I needed and I told her that normally, I’d do it myself but prefer for it to be done properly seeing as I was going to be wearing only a nappy and hospital gown for the foreseeable future, I’d like some help to make sure it was on properly and very secure.

She obviously had some nursing experience because she didn’t bat an eye as I lay out on a rather large changing table and pulled up my gown to reveal the soggy state of my padding. There was a moment of resignation I saw flit across her face, then it changed and I noticed a different scrutinization and she simply told me to lie back and she’d see to everything. I said that I was happy to help but she just told me to relax and that she was used to dealing with “wet boys”. My new young carer had a smile on her face when she said that so knew she was having fun... I just hoped it wasn’t going to be at my expense.

Ffion moved efficiently, collecting the necessary items—lotion, powder, and a disposable nappy—from the shelves nearby. It was clear she was familiar with the layout and knew precisely where everything was kept. Without hesitation, she instructed me once again to just relax.

I felt uncertain about where to direct my gaze. Although I had been changed by others before, Ffion’s presence was different. Her Welsh accent and her appearance of only being slightly older than myself, made me acutely aware of the situation. However, it was obvious she was a professional, and I was simply a patient. So, I followed her instructions, trusting her expertise.

Once my plastic pants were down, as they settled around my ankles, she commented what a good quality brand they were and after an antiseptic wipe they’d be as good as new. She patted the full and soggy material and light-heartedly told me off for not mentioning my need earlier. I was going to tell her I hadn’t had chance being guided here, there and everywhere... but I kept quiet as she gently unwrapped the offending bundle of fabric and pee.

She slipped it into plastic bag and then proceeded to use a few wet wipes on my naked skin, followed by a warm flannel she’d soaked under the hot tap in the sink. She was most thorough and I was enjoying her ministrations when quite unintentionally I made a groan of pleasure, which I reacted with complete embarrassment and flushed bright pink.

She started to giggle but then tried to rein in her mistake with a shake of the head “We’re not going in that direction at all... little boy...” she said with a flourish of powder before pulling the disposable up between my legs, “so think again”. I think, from the heat radiating from my body, I’d turned from pink to red.

Finishing off she patted my padded crotch and said that should be good enough for a few hours but then turned attention to the plastic pants still hugging my ankles. She found a different wipe, which smelled a bit medical and gave the inside of the plastic a fairly good dab around then eased them up and over the disposable. She tucked everything in and then with a smile at my obvious embarrassment pulled my gown back into position and jokingly said, in a rather nannyish way, I’d been a “very good boy”.

Not sure why but at that moment I felt myself slipping.

#

I’d just finished changing his nappy when things didn’t seem right. Only a few seconds before we were having fun with the embarrassing situation but then -wham – he looked and acted like a toddler. It was weird to witness how quickly he’d become little; his voice changed to that of a two-year-old and seemed to become that small child in seconds. I wasn’t sure what to do so I thought I’d better get him back to the lab as soon as possible.

She explained what had happened to the group.

He was still happy but asking for his teddy bear and where his mummy was. He wasn’t too sure who I was but I think, because I was an adult, he trusted me when I told him she wasn’t far away. I held out my hand and said, “Shall we see if we can find her then?” He clambered off the table and gently slipped his hand inside mine and we set off back here. He waddled and looked around each corner as we made our way back to the Doctor, thankfully he seemed to know immediately where he was when we arrived.

“Oh, hello Johnny,” Dr Thana said, “do you want to play a few more games with me?”

Johnny appeared to know who he was and seemed happy enough to be led over to another batch of equipment that Doctor Thana fixed onto his head.

“This is so much fun for my little hero,” the Doctor encouraged as he fastened the helmet into position. “Now then Johnny, we need you to look at this screen and tell me what you see... okay?”

Johnny bounced on his seat with excitement as a series of images—fruit, animals, signs—flashed by for a few seconds each. Some were familiar, some unfamiliar, and a few unexpectedly challenging though perhaps ones he should have known easily as a teenager. His brain activity was being monitored, and the team of assistants watched intently, fascinated by this unusual mental phenomenon. On the screen, sections of his brain illuminated, but the colours didn't match the expected areas. Meanwhile, the graph tracking various protein combinations faltered when a white line, representing an unknown hormone, suddenly spiked in his hippocampus.

“What the hell is that?” One confused assistant shouted in surprise.

The Doctor looked around at his bewildered group. “That is something only Johnny has... and... what we need to analyse and name. We are possibly on the verge of something new in medical, psychological and pathological terms.” He looked around again at his stunned but enthused assistants, “As far as we know young Mister Benedict here is unique. So, we need to tread carefully and exclusively... obtaining as much information as possible whilst he is in this regressive state because that,” he pointed to the white spike, “is just unbelievable... and yet...” He looked over at his seemingly infantile patient who was still gleefully involved trying to name the items on the ever-changing display of images on screen. “Whatever it is... seems to make him incredibly happy.”

# tbc #

Part 16

“There are a host of hormones that are crucial to the development and function of the brain. Some are well known for what they do and what they add in the way of mental clarity, synaptic plasticity and general cognitive roles that focuses the mind. There are areas of the brain that perform different tasks and add to the way we behave and the overall experience of each person’s life.”

Dr. Thanakom Thongcharoen invested considerable time and effort to clarify that my son possesses cognitive differences from others, with a distinct mental composition. While the cause remains uncertain, he expressed optimism about identifying it through further study of John.

“Currently, Mrs Benedict, John is demonstrating characteristics indicative of a unique and as yet undiagnosed condition.” The doctor looked both intense and happy with his analysis. He explained that as John was now, in a regressed state, which he’d apparently been in for over six hours, there was nothing normal about the way his brain, and the hormones that make it perform, were operating. He explained that this mix, this unidentified protein, seemed to be generated at the same time he relapsed because in those earlier studies, when he was his normal teenaged self, there was no indication of it at all.

“As yet we don’t know the trigger that makes this happen, nor are we able to identify just exactly what that is,” he said pointing to the white spike on the otherwise colourful graph.

#

In the late afternoon when I arrived at the hospital to check that John had everything and wasn’t asking for me (yes, I know he’d said he’d be okay but I still worried). I’d been guided to a different ward, which I noticed was called the Dolphin Wing and was obviously set up for infants and toddlers. There, to my surprise, I was met with him happily sitting in a group of tots nursing on a bottle like the rest of them.

I left him with that group of toddlers where he seemed happy to be in their company and doing what kids that age do. In the past I remembered that on more than one occasion he’d said that he’s more than content wearing just his nappy and being a kid again. The proof was how he was interacting there right in front of me. He was in the same gleeful state that I’d noticed him and Terry were when they’d both been sucking on those drugged dummies. I wondered if the doctor had administered some more chemicals to get him into that condition.

On first appraisal I was surprised to see how much he had regressed, but his joyful squeal once he noticed me and eagerly waddled over for a hug made the moment feel quite intense. After I fussed over him and asked if he'd been behaving himself, he swayed just like young children do when they're being praised or want to share something important.

“Yes mummy, Iza goo boy.” The soft, childish tone and his genuine timidity made me smile, which in turn made him happy as he returned it with his own huge grin. “Canna go back to ma fwends?”

I nodded, masking my concern with a smile, and gave him a reassuring pat on his thick padding before sending him back to join the small group as they moved toys, stuffed animals, and blocks across a soft carpet clearly intended for play.

His larger stature didn’t intimidate the younger children; they seemed equally cheerful, their voices filled with excitement—shouting, giggling, and squealing whenever something was constructed or knocked down.

#

“We’re just observing him for now because we don’t know when he’ll snap back to being his normal self.” Doctor Thana engaged me. “We’ve taken all the monitoring devises off as we wanted to see just how he manages himself in this state.”

The doctor and the assistants were around but didn’t get involved with the play. There were also a couple of nurses keeping an eye on their patients who also only got involved if invited by the kids themselves. Occasionally one would just check when they noticed that a wet or messy nappy might be in need of urgent attention, otherwise they were left to it.

This play area of the hospital was part of the Children’s Wing but purposely designed for the very young. I wondered why he’d been put here in particular but the doctor simply said that they were getting no further results from the sensors and he seemed to be getting bored. One of the assistants who’d worked on the Dolphin Wing in the past suggested he might like to join in with the other kids. So, here he was and had found an age group he was happy with, which in itself was, to the doctor at least, quite revealing.

It was at this point that Doctor Thana invited me to his office to explain exactly what they knew... and what they had no idea about.

#

Of course, over the weeks and months since John had been anxious and begun to wet, I’ve worried about him. However, I admitted fairly early on that with mine and Avril’s encouragement we had more or less badgered him into taking part in wearing (and wax lyrical about wearing) nappies. We’d bombarded him with products, and, because he turned out to be very enthusiastic indeed, continued to treat him to a barrage of the latest line of Dreamtime merchandise, which turned out to be rather fetching, if juvenile items of clothing. Although I’d spoken about all this to my psychiatrist friend it was the first time I’d spoken in depth about it to Doctor Thana.

“So, Mrs Benedict...”

“Susan please...”

“So, Susan, your son never objected to wearing a nappy once he started having nocturnal emissions before his exams... is that correct?”

“Well, not really. He’s a very intelligent boy and realised it was something that would protect the bedding and help.”

“But he didn’t protest?” The doctor queried.

“Only half-heartedly and then, once he was wearing them to sleep in didn’t protest at all. In fact, said he slept better because he wasn’t worrying about waking up to a soaked bed, just a wet nappy.”

As I spoke, I watched Doctor Thana carefully, noticing how his mind was working through the details I was sharing. He was intent on hearing the entire account, rather than just the portion we had previously provided—those focused solely on John's development after his encounter with the FruitiZucker.

Up to that point, we had only briefly touched upon John's life prior to that pivotal event. With a sense of guilt weighing on me, I paused for a moment, took a deep breath, and prepared to continue. I was acutely aware that the doctor might place more than a little responsibility on my shoulders for the role I played in supporting John’s regression to toddler-like behaviour by simply his love of wearing nappies. In my head I’d tried to justify it but the more I researched John’s problem, the more I realised that although his desire to wear nappies and stuff may well have been there all along, by our actions, Avril and I had brought it well and truly to the fore. The Dreamtime promotion had certainly helped, but didn’t cause, his desire for more and more juvenile clothing and, because he looked so damn cute, I fostered its use.

This onesie has a soft fluffiness that makes me never want to take it off.

The zip up the back means someone else can be in charge of release and when it’s time for a nappy change.

The matching-coloured fleecy nappies are thick and comfortable and once pinned on hug in the nicest possible way.

There must have been warning signs going off all the time, and although I might have asked for clarification from Avril on one or two points, the fact I didn’t stop aiding what he was doing was down to me.

#

Eventually, after the entire history was out there, Doctor Thana looked at me and nodded. I wasn’t sure whether that was one of appreciation of coming clean or one acknowledging what a hopeless mother I am. He patted my hand, “I can see it has been a stressful time for you. But now I know everything… we might have a better chance at finding out how all this came to be.”

“Really Doctor? You don’t think I’m to blame?”

“For some people Mrs Ben... erm, Susan, the comfort and safety of nappies have a very strong pull on their mental state. Some, though not all, relate it to a time of happiness and a stressless existence, for example, when mummy and daddy were their world and everything was done for them.”

I knew this already. Avril had hinted that need was real and Laura had been through it at great length but had come to conclusion that John simply loved his nappies and childish clothes.

“I’m sure I’m not telling you anything new,” the doctor continued, “but you might not realise that this feeling, this need for a sort of safety blanket, can go back years and only appear at times of immense stress. I’m sure that, although it might not have appeared so, John’s exams, which he knew were very important, had been extremely stressful, more perhaps than he let on, and kicked up a wave of anxiety he wasn’t used to. The wet underwear feasibly the first sign”

He was correct, I had heard all this before but it was confirming what Laura had said. However, what she didn’t know about was his slips into total regression. How he immersed himself in action and speech of a toddler. And then there was this graph, this significant spike that even the doctor was unsure of... so what significance was that?

#

Doctor Thana continued to explain what they did know but, when I asked him to explain that spike, he was less forthcoming because, as he’d already said, it was something he had never seen before.

“It’s a white spike simply because it’s unknown. All indicators have come up with nothing to grade it against so... we are at the point of starting from scratch and who knows where this might lead?”

I thought we were just going over old ground and not getting anywhere but he said that he needed to keep Johnny in overnight and watch how his sleep patterns fell. When he was unconscious did the spike disappear or was there further movement?

I agreed to that but when we returned to the Dolphin Ward, all the little kids were sat having a meal at a small table and Johnny was sitting cross-legged on the floor beside them nursing a bottle. He was wearing just a t-shirt and a different fresh thick nappy from when I’d seen him earlier. Obviously, the nurses had to change him but he didn’t look out of place. I was very surprised that after all this time he hadn’t reverted back to being a teenager but again he beamed when he saw me. Sucking intently, he just carried on slurping back his drink like a happy toddler.

“We need to get ahead of that spike,” I said perhaps a little unnecessarily.

“My thoughts exactly,” Doctor Thana agreed.

#

Even knowing that he was surrounded by medical staff and specialists, the fact that he’d been in this regressive state longer now than I’d known was worrying. I had to ask the question had they given him something to induce this but Doctor Thana explained that during the process of being changed by one of his staff he’d simply slipped into his current juvenile state. He supposed that the action of having his nappy changed couldn’t be the trigger because he’d had to have them changed regularly since his arrival – on this one occasion the regression persisted.

Later, when his toddler friends were taken back to their ward to sleep, John was steered towards a private room where he was put into his nighttime, extra thick nappy and attached to various pieces of electronic apparatus. The Doctor was very good at explaining to John in terms he might understand just what was happening and though it looked pretty scary to me, he seemed to keep his jolly, if childish, personality throughout.

When John spoke it was in this very childish tone, which although coming out of a teenager’s mouth, now I was used to it, didn’t seem inappropriate. We talked for a while and he joyfully explained (in a babyish way) just what he and his ‘fwends’ had gotten up to and the towers he built only for them to fall down. He giggled as he recollected each event. He looked so small and vulnerable with wires coming from the helmet on his head and various other measuring device linked to him. Eventually, I could see he was getting tired and a nurse came in with a baby’s bottle of warm milk, which he sleepily nursed on as he slowly dropped off.

Nothing.

The barrage of equipment; the bleeps of his heart monitor, the pulsing waves on each screen, nothing changed and that white spike that eluded explanation stayed exactly where it was. The screen that depicted areas of activity in his brain remained in the same colourful pattern as it had for the best part of the day. They checked to be sure everything was working correctly but still no change. Whatever information was being gathered as he drifted off looked like it wasn’t going to help solve the mystery of my son.

I stayed the night because I couldn’t possibly sleep at home knowing Johnny was still regressed. I called hubby and told him the situation and he wondered if he should be here as well but I told him I didn’t think it was necessary at the moment but I’d let him know if anything changed. I needed to be near my son and the Doctor agreed and asked me to let him know if there were any variations that I noticed. One of his assistants also hung around making notes on a chart and adjusting various sensors. We chatted a bit but it had been a long day and quickly our conversation, like Johnny, just slipped into silence.

Every now and then I’d get up from holding his hand and check the various screens myself. I had no idea what I was looking at except the one that had the white line - it was the focus of everything. Once I’d seen for myself that nothing had changed, I sat back down and held his hand again hoping my presence would make a difference – it didn’t.

#

A nurse doing her rounds came in to check Johnny was okay and that he wasn’t wet, which guiltily I thought I should have checked, but she noticed he had his thumb in his mouth. I watched as she gently withdrew it and silently slipped a large dummy in place. I looked a little shocked remembering the FruitiZuckers but thankfully I was assured this one was untainted.

“It’s simply a little bit more hygienic than his thumb,” she smiled kindly at her patient, “we don’t know where that thumb has been… do we?” I noticed the care and compassion as she watched to make sure he took to it.

I was spellbound as he began a gentle sucking rhythm and his pulse rate continued its peaceful beat on the monitor. This was my baby boy, my teenage baby boy, and there was absolutely nothing I could do to change his circumstances. I looked across at the dozing assistant and just wished that they’d find a cure pretty soon as this was no way for a sixteen-year-old, with university prospects, to live the rest of his life.

#

I’m sure it’s the same for everyone my age but I’m panicking. Mum and dad don’t realise but they are always on at me to study harder as the upcoming exams will affect the rest of my life... or so they say. I’m not sure why they’re determined that I go to university, and land myself with a huge student loan that I will then have to pay off, but they seem to think it will all be worth it.

So, here I am, frazzled and constantly tired, struggling to read and absorb the information in front of me. It feels as though I am expected to understand a vast array of things that I’m convinced will never be useful in my life. The pressure from my family is relentless; not only do my parents urge me on, but even my aunts, uncles, and cousins have joined in, offering their encouragement and support. Despite their good intentions, it’s become overwhelming, and truthfully, I am miserable with every moment of it.

When not at school, angry, frustrated and annoyed by it all, I’m back in my bedroom, books open, no social life, feeling utterly depressed about everything yet still trying to be upbeat and on-the-ball for my parents – I don’t want to let them down. However, coursing through my body is a range of hormones, again, that I just don’t understand. Whatever they are they make my mind veer off to some abstract thought or some kind of sexual (I think it’s sexual) subject. Is waking up to sticky, messy pyjamas normal?

The thing is, the more I worry about it, the worse it gets. I’ve even found myself in the middle of some dream realising that I’m about to wet the bed and have to rush off to the loo, surely that’s something else that can’t be right. A couple of times I’ve not made it and pjs or undies have found their way into an early but secret wash.

I’ve been online to see if there’s any sort of resolution to this problem, or indeed if it is a problem for anyone else, and now my browser is inundated with adverts for incontinence products. Whilst I hate the intrusion and assumption, in truth it does seem the most sensible and instant way to protect myself from piss-soaked bedding; something I’m sure my parents wouldn’t be too sympathetic about and it would just be more pressure for me to become the clever son they obviously intend for me to be. It’s all too much pressure.

How can something I do at my age now affect the rest of my life?

If that’s the case... then why?

I’m still in my mid-teens so why does what I do now mean everything for my future?

Well, that’s according to my parents, teachers and the only people I seem to meet. I hate all this tension because it’s having a detrimental effect on my mind and body. It’s doing things I can’t control. My head is full of thoughts that I don’t understand and my body is leaking in response. I have no idea why. It was so much simpler when I was a little kid - I really wish I didn’t have this stress.

Thank God for Bruce. He’s my only distraction and the only one who asks nothing more of me than a quick petting, a long relieving walk and a bowl full of food. I don’t have to hide my feelings from him because, whether this is stupid or not, I can tell him anything. My worries, my hopes, my absolute fears and how, to me at least, this is an awful age to be which are all met with a wag of the tail, a long lick of my face and eyes that say they trust me completely.

Even this morning when I wet the bed and now can’t hide that fact from mum Bruce just nuzzles my crotch as if to say – don’t worry, all is well and I’m here for you.

Maybe, once the exams are over, all this will stop and I can live a proper life without anxiety... be more dog. Yes indeed, thank god for Bruce.

#

I’d gone through a whole host of emotions as I sat through the night watching John with all the wires and devices attached to him. One minute I was concerned and wondered if I should wake up the sleeping assistant, the next relieved that he was so peaceful. Then he’d shuffle around and I worried he’d get tangled up in all the electronics but once he’d settled, I relaxed. I held his hand, wiped his brow, pushed the occasional stray hair from his forehead. I thought how sweet he looked when the nurse came and changed him but then guiltily remembered that wasn’t the aim. Still, I hadn’t detected any movement on the graph but I’m sure something must have happened somewhere.

I wonder what is going on in John’s head. I always thought I could read my son like a book but this regression has me at a loss – I simply don’t know how I can help. Ever since he was little, he’s always been a loving and amenable boy. We’ve encouraged him to be his best but don't think we've put any more pressure on him than any other parent, he always seems to want to do his best. If this illness, or whatever it turns out to be, is all down to us I’ll be mortified. I want my boy back. I want him to be who he is not what he’s become but then again, what if what he’s become is who he is?

I need to stop thinking in this way and try to stay positive.

#

Early morning and there was a sudden burst of activity. Another assistant came in, checked the monitors, made notes, chatted with the one who had stayed all night, nodded at me and began to release a sleepy-eyed John from his night’s wiry headgear. She was closely followed by a nurse who checked John over and decided that he’d filled his nappy so shooed us all out so she could change him with some degree of privacy.

She looked over at me and gave me one of those looks that said, ‘This is for your own good’ and suggested it was an opportunity to grab something from the café and ‘freshen’ myself up. I took the hint.

#

“Now then young man.” The nurse was being as gentle as she could be. “Let’s get you out of this messy nappy and into something a lot nicer, shall we?”

She’d already shuffled down the sheet and John was laid in bed but his hospital gown had ridden up and his thick, soiled nappy was on display via the slightly see-thru plastic pants. He giggled when she pulled a funny face and led him towards the bathroom.

“Is mummy coming back?” He asked in that sweet little voice that weirdly still seemed fitting even from a teenage body. All the nurses and staff who had been in contact with John loved his sweet nature, his constantly happy personality and the fact he was no trouble... a model patient. The nurse reassured him, cooed and baby talked as she cleaned him up and slipped him into a more robust disposable and thicker, shinier plastic pants.

“Fank u.” That small voice said as he hugged a stuffed doggie the nurse had passed to him. “Bwucie” he named him and joyfully jogged him up and down on his chest.

“We need to keep our special little guy all safe and secure, don’t we?” She smiled as she rearranged his hospital gown back into place. “There we go... all neat and tidy and ready for some lovely brekkie, eh?”

#

This was such a classy hospital I was able to buy new knickers and t-shirt at the gift shop and for some reason that made me feel infinitely better. I arrived back feeling refreshed having had some breakfast, a couple of very strong coffees, spoke to hubby on the phone and explained that there was no change and finally had been able to take a shower.

As I walked through the doorway, he was being fed breakfast by one of the nurses I hadn’t seen before. “Oh, hi, I’m John’s mother.” I introduced myself. “I can take over that if you have something else you need to be doing,” I offered.

Thankfully John saw me straight away and threw out his arms as if he wanted to be picked up or hugged. I wanted to do both but another heaped spoonful was being directed towards his still chewing mouth. Some missed and slipped down on to a colourful plastic bib he was wearing, so that was handy. After a quick re-scooping the nurse replied “Well that’s very kind of you but it’s a real pleasure... he’s such a sweetie...” looking fondly at John she shovelled in another spoonful of cereal. He munched and smiled throughout the procedure.

I felt a little like a spare cog but noticed that the assistant was no longer around and the machines weren’t registering anything so wondered what was happening.

“Do you know where everyone’s gone?” I enquired of the nurse.

“I think they’ve taken all the readings down to the Doctor’s office... they seemed excited about something.” She replied still giving her charge a heaped spoonful of what I thought were Corn Flakes, but I could be wrong.

“Oh, that spike on the graph I suppose,” I added letting her know I knew what was going on.

“Maybe,” she shrugged, “but it might be something else.”

“Oh!” Was my confused reply.

#

I arrived unannounced at the Doctor’s office and the entire group of assistants were gathered around the main man sounding and looking excited about something judging by the enthusiastic chatter. He looked up and saw me and excitedly called over to join him.

“There’s been a bit of a breakthrough...” he was pointing to the screen all his team were gathered around. “You know about the hormones and essential proteins we’ve discussed that go to make the brain function?” It was a question but I think he was hoping he wouldn’t have to remind me of them all. “Well, the analysis is back and what we’ve discovered is a new one... it seems to be an off shoot...” I could tell he was trying to keep it in laymen’s terms so as not to swamp me in medical babble. “It acts a little like Estrogen in the hippocampus but has formed a pact with Cortisol and with a little help... or hindrance... from a new enzyme has produced a Super Hormone which we haven’t seen before.” He looked at me hoping I was following but all the assistants were grinning because they were in at such a discovery.

Doctor Thana spelt it out. “As we thought at the beginning, John is, as far as we know, unique.” He paused and the happy grin faded when he saw I wasn’t as excited as he was. “However, as this is causing John to regress, we need to find a way of reversing or blocking that hormones development, which unfortunately means we need to keep him here so we can track it for a while.”

Despite all the happy faces around me a strange shiver ran up and down my spine and I had to ask the question I’d been dreading since I got back to John’s room. “Could this, this...” I took a deep breath. “Could this be permanent?”

The assistant’s faces as well as the Doctor’s became frighteningly serious.

“Erm, in truth Susan... we just don’t know yet.” He looked a little guilty, as if because he’d been excited at what had been discovered had overshadowed my concern. “We will try to back engineer as much as we can but at the moment, that enzyme and the way it reacts with all the other hormones... is John’s alone.”

#

This information left us no better off. However, something else happened that was quite unexpected. Terry came with me on one visit and sat with Johnny whilst I went off to chat to the Doctor. When he returned with me to John’s room Terry nervously admitted that as he’d also had a taste of the FruitiZucker that he was willing, if the doctor could keep it to himself, to undergo some tests. He felt guilty that John was going through all this on his own and hoped being checked out might help with any diagnosis.

Bless him, he was a good friend to Johnny, and despite his initial reservations after the doc told him off for not coming forwards earlier sat through a barrage of tests that confirmed one thing... Terry was unaffected by the drugs and that he didn’t have that tell-tail white spike on his graph. Our boy remained unique but now Terry was implicated, but, despite John’s still juvenile status, he spent a great deal of his time being with his friend and for that we were very grateful.

John spent a further three weeks in the hospital. In all that time, and despite the many, many tests and treatments they tried, he never recovered from being a toddler. With the assurance from Doctor Thana that they would continue to work on a solution we thought it best to bring him home.

Terry visited him in hospital and was very sympathetic to the way John was. In fact, he joined him and many of the other kids playing in the Dolphin Ward... though without wearing a nappy. He had said in confidence that when he visited him at our house, he was more than happy to wear the same as Johnny so he didn’t feel different.

To be honest… me, David and Terry had this chat the day before we brought John home and had a huge heart to heart. Terry reaffirmed his liking for wearing nappies, though kept that fact hidden from his family. He confirmed that when he and Johnny had played together after the FruitiZucker... and again after that session without the drugged dummy... how much he enjoyed his lapse into being little. He liked that escape and was pleased that our son had given him the experience and wished it to continue – if that wasn’t too weird.

#

Once John returned home, he and Terry became inseparable. Despite John's exceptional academic achievements and the bright future that once awaited him, he now spent his days with the mind and behaviours of a two-year-old. He would often be found contentedly sucking on a dummy, his large nappy visible beneath cheerful, colourful plastic pants. Terry was a devoted friend, visiting John as often as possible after school and on weekends, ensuring he was never alone. It was a comfort to know that, although John's well-earned university place was now out of reach, he had someone who truly understood and cared for him.

I tried to keep myself positive but sadly the cure wasn’t forthcoming and I found myself with days where I’d spiral down and found it hard to cope. David was more centred and spent a great deal of time and energy making him toys and stuff that any toddler would be happy with. He kept me going, well him and the fact that there was never an unhappy moment from Johnny. Changing his nappy, or outside playing, he was always smiling and giggly and wanting to help.

He and Bruce were the best of friends and was back sleeping in his bedroom like before all this began. We couldn’t let Johnny take him out on his own, even though he looked like a teenager, there were obvious problems of letting a two-year-old out alone. Thankfully, uncanny as it may seem, Bruce appeared to know what was happening and acted as defender and guide to his toddler mate. It was quite wonderful to see.

We’ve tried to treat him as a teenager but he wets his pants and doesn’t realise it. He doesn’t like wearing certain clothes and takes them off as soon as he’s put in them so, we just put him in what’s comfortable for him... a nappy and a t-shirt when at home and shorts and a jumper if we go out.

We have in our home a unique teenaged baby/toddler who has been written up in medical journals, been the subject of medical science and the source of a few new lectures that have made Dr. Thanakom Thongcharoen not only a specialist in his field but quite famous. He now has a new hormone named after him.

I have no idea what the future holds for any of us but John is our son, and despite calls from some who think he should be a permanent exhibit for research purposes, we will look after him and keep him safe. We can only hope that Doctor Thana eventually finds a cure but, in the meantime, it’s playtime and Terry’s coming round. It’s such a nice day they can go out in the garden. I’ll get the toy box ready... and changing mat... and a selection of disposables and plastic pants... plus floppy Barney.

With Johnny being in his current state I can’t tell you how incredible Terry has been and continues to interact at such a juvenile level. I know he’s also getting something from the situation but Johnny’s eyes light up whenever his best friend is there to play. Despite the circumstances I have loved to watch them both so carefree actually enjoying themselves.

So, another day (and we take things day by day) and, with his best friend’s imminent arrival, I get to have two toddlers, who both love their nappies, to look after. It’s more work but there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my little boy and it appears neither would Terry. It may seem strange but, when they are both giggling and being silly, that infantile sound seems to make things not only bearable but actually acceptable.

Who wouldn’t want to see their child happy?

#### The End ####

 

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