This Story is written by Croc
It was the morning. My dream felt like it took hours; I guess it’s the mathematical physics of space and time zone bullshit…that’s what I learned from watching a Professor Hawking documentary on YouTube.
So it was a morning like no other…a normal school day, in the damp and freezing midlands weather of England, with the soon-to-be Christmas school holidays break up…this week ending on Friday 13th! But the problem is: is that I have now woken up from that dream!
I lay in my bed on my tummy, worming around, not wanting to leave my warm bed and awake into my cold bedroom winter breeze. I tilt my head up to my bedroom side unit and I look at my alarm clock: ‘7.00am.’ it rang then I heard:
“Tom! Get up; you’re going to be late for school!” – Mum shouted from down the stairs.
When mum shouts, it’s a pure voice of command. It’s loud and very strict. When mum goes off on one, her voice can be heard from a long distance. In other words: her bark is worse than her bite.
I shut my eyes then opened them up into a quick stare; trying to wake myself up and gain strength to walk into my cold bedroom. I placed my hands onto the top of my bed mattress, as I did; I felt a cold patch where my crotch is…at first I thought it was a wet dream…but I quickly thought twice about it: I slowly placed my right hand underneath my duvet cover onto my crotch; on my boxer shorts: I had wet my bed!
“Oh no, not now, how did this happen? That dream!” – I said to myself as I pulled my duvet cover from my bed exposing my bedwetting stain. Because my duvet cover is off the bed, the smell of my urine filled my bedroom air (even with my window slightly open and air vent open). I panicked…I’ve never wet the bed before nor have I had problems with going to the toilet.
As I froze in a “what to do?” trance, I heard a knock on my bedroom door.
“Tom. Are you getting up or what?” – Mum asked behind my bedroom door.
“Er, yes mum. I’m up. I’m fine; I’ll be down in five.” – I replied, trying not to expose my problem.
“Okay darling, I’ll make you porridge.” – Mum replied before making way down stairs.
Standing in my wet boxer shorts and t-shirt I quickly took of my wet bed sheet and placed it into my washing basket; I then took a clean bed sheet and made my bed. Afterwards, I sprayed a bottle of deodorant to get rid of the urine smell. I changed into a fresh clean pair of boxer shorts. I threw my wet pair into my washing basket. I then quickly changed into my school uniform. As I left for the bathroom, I tried to go for a piss, but it was no use. I then cleaned my teeth and walked down into the kitchen.
“Here you go Tom. Here is some porridge for you.” – Mum told me as I sat at the dinner table. “Thank you mum, I love my Ready Break.” – I replied as I started to eat my porridge.
“Oh my, you’re so pale Tom. Do you feel okay?” – Mum asked me as she placed her long hand onto my forehead.
“I’m fine mum.” – I answered. Which wasn’t true: apart from wetting my bed (for the first time) I was very tired.
“You don’t look fine Tom. Maybe you should miss school today, and go back to bed.” – Mum advised me.
“Mum I’m fine, trust me. You have nothing to worry about.” – I told her as I quickly finished eating my porridge. Mum backed off to get our coats. I looked round the kitchen…and for some sixth sense I felt I was not someone else, but something else.
“Here’s your coat Tom. Come let’s go. It’s the last week of school before the Christmas school break up, and the traffic is going to be packed.” – Mum said as she gave me my coat. I put my coat on, along with my mittens, scarf, and hat.
“Let me help you. I don’t want my boy to get a cold.” – Mum told me as she zipped up my coat and tightened the buttons to my mittens and clip to my hat.
I didn’t reply to mum’s comment; I’m still stuck in a trance, a trance of “why did I wet my bed?”
Mum led the way out of our three-bedroom semi-detached home. Mum defrosted her car earlier, so it would save time on the road. I go into the front of the car and mum tightly strapped me into the car. Mum got into her driver’s seat, turning on the ignition and drove away from our quite country home towards my school: St Edward’s.
It must have been half way into our journey and again that mind and feeling of being something else took over from me. It started when I looked outside the car window looking at a woman pushing her young toddler in a stroller. Then I moaned:
“Agh…agh…mum…you’re right I’m not well, let’s turn back and go home please.” – I pleaded to mum, as I held onto my tummy.
“Sorry Tom. You had your chance of going back to bed. As you can see with the traffic; it’s hard to turn back round at the moment. You’ll be okay.” – Mum told me confidently as she continued to drive in the traffic.
“Mum please!” – I begged in a high pitched voice gasping in pain from my bladder.
“Tom. You’re 16 years old and been potty trained for 12 years: Don’t disappoint me young man.” – Mum sternly snapped at me as she drove on down the icy road.
I quickly saw our local café on the countryside road.
“Mum pull over please I need really need to use the toilet.” – I told mum as I wiggled my thighs, and holding my tummy tight with my mittens: how ironic in which I can’t use my hands!
“Tom school is not far from here, I can’t risk the traffic okay.” – Mum told me as she kept her eyes on the traffic in front of her.
Mum drove pass the café and was in near distance with my school…then…a certain odor exposed into my mums car. Mum turned to her left, and looked down to my crotch.
“Oh my god: Tom! Tell me you didn’t wet yourself?” – Mum asked me in a shocked tone as she calmly drove the car.
“What? Of course not, why would I–.” – I replied then looked down onto my crotch and noticed that I indeed wet myself. I knew I had to wee, but I couldn’t hold it in; just like wetting the bed this morning.
“Just wait till we get to school young man.” – Mum angrily told me then upped her speed to get me into school.
“Mum, please. It’s not my fault.” – I spoke to mum, trying to defend myself.
“Tom. We’re nearly at school. Then we can chat about this.” – Mum warned me as she continued to drive towards my school, which is now only a few hundred yards away.
We arrived at my school and mum – thankfully – parked in the middle of the school car park, away from other cars and incoming traffic.
“Tom, you have a problem going to the toilet. As you were eating your porridge I quickly sneaked into your bedroom and seen your wet bed sheet in your washing basket…along with your stained boxer shorts. Tell me the truth, you lie? And you’ll be in worse trouble.” – Mum spoke to me honestly and she expected the same with me in return.
“Mum I woke up this morning in a wet bed, now I’ve wet myself in your presence and on to your car seat. I can’t explain what the problem is?” – I told mum looking at her with worry and embarrassment.
“Oh sweetheart, I know why? – It’s because of your exams, your girlfriend, and being the school football team captain: there’s a lot that you’re taking on. There’s only four days left till the break-up. Let’s go home, and get your cleaned up. I won’t let my boy go to school in wet uniform.” – Mum reassured me giving me a cuddle.
“Thank you mum…I guess you are right.” – I told mum feeling better that I’m not lying to her.
“Tom. I’m your mum: I’m always right. I know what’s best for my boy. Let’s go home and get you back into bed.” – Mum smiled looking down at me. I nodded yes smiling.
Mum then turned on her car’s ignition again and drove home…with less traffic than on the other side of the road, we got home faster.
Mum parked back into our driveway, turned off the car’s ignition then looked at me:
“Now you stay here and let me unstrap you. It’s been a tough morning for you and I don’t want to stress you out.” – Mum told me as she exited her side of the car. Mum walked around her side of the car towards my side and opened my passenger door.
“Come on little man, you need to go down for a long sleep.” – Mum lightly spoke to me as she unstrapped my car seat. I got up and the piss stain on my grey school trousers was visible.
My mum placed her hand on my bottom:
“Mum what are you doing?” – I spoke in shock.
“I’m checking to see if you have a wet bum-bum sweetheart.” – Mum said as held her hand on my bottom, then placing it on each cheek, rubbing my bottom and behind my thighs.
“Now, I want you to go and have a nice bath. I want your wet uniform in your washing basket and then call me when you have finished your bath okay?” – Mum softly ordered me.
“Er…sure mum.” – I replied, taking the problem of wetting in a mature and dignified manner.
Mum and I walked back into our home. Once inside the hallway mum pulled me by my coat hood then started to undress me! She took of my hat, mittens, and scarf. Mum then unzipped my coat and placed it onto the coat hanger. Mum then took of my school blazer and looked down at my crotch:
“Tom, have a nice long bath. I have a plan in dealing with your small problem. Trust me.” – Mum smiled warmly.
“Sure mum. Thank you for understanding and being so open with my accidents.” – I told mum giving her a loving cuddle.
“Not a problem honey. Mum has all the answers. Now go and wash that cute bottom of yours.” – Mum giggled. My face turned red and I went bashful when mum said that.
I walked – well ran – up the stairs and ran myself a bath, as I did, I stripped naked in my bedroom, as mum was in the kitchen. I threw my school-uniform into my washing basket. I then sprinted into the bathroom naked, just in case mum came up the stairs sooner.
As I was in the bath, mum came up stairs and went into my room…not only (to my shock) took all my pairs of boxer shorts, but also my washing basket. Mum went down stairs as I was lying in the bath.
After having a long warm bath – like mum advised me to do – I got out and dried myself with big towels – that make me look smaller – in the bathroom. I normally have a second round of drying myself in my bedroom. I wrap a towel around my waist then placed another towel around the back of my neck and shoulders. I walked into my bedroom to find mum sitting on my bed.
“Tom. I’ve changed your duvet covers and straightened your bed sheet out. I’ve also the answer in solving this wetting problem; here in my hand. I’ve also taken the liberty to place a week’s supply of adult pull-ups and placed them into your clothing draws; where your boxer shorts used to be kept. I’ve burnt your boxer shorts in the back garden. That is why I wanted you to take a long warm bath; so I can get things into order.” – Mum softly told me.
“Where did you get the adult pull-ups? And when?” – I asked mum.
“That’s for me to know young man. Little boys should be seen and not heard!” – Mum told me.
“But my boxer shorts? I need them!” – I declared.
“I can always buy new pairs boxer shorts for you…if you stop wetting the bed!” – Mum sternly told me in her loud voice.
“Mum please, I don’t need to wear pull-ups. They are for babies!” – I whined in protest.
“Nonsense young man, babies wear nappies. Do you want to wear nappies instead? I know I’d be happy to change your nappies again…and so would the girls at school knowing they’ll have a cute baby boy to change and babysit. You’re going to wear pull-ups, either by your own doing, or by force – with an over the knee, bare bottom spanking by me with the wooden spoon. It’s only natural to discipline boys who need it. I’d hate to spank my little boy. The choice is yours Tom.” – Mum bluntly told me as I stood there. I thought hard about it but then:
“One…two…if I reach five: over my knee you go. Three…” – Mum told me looking me deep into my eyes holding this adult pull-up.
“Okay, okay! Please don’t spank me mum.” – I gave in…I just wanted to go to sleep.
“Good boy. Now come here in front of me.” – Mum said. I stepped in front of mum’s presence and she then took both towels of me.
“Mum!” – I protested as I quickly placed my hands in front of my crotch to cover up my manhood.
“I’ve seen it all before Tom. I’m your mum, don’t be shy. You’re so cute!” – Mum cooed to me (which pissed me off) as she opened the adult pull-up.
“Come on, one foot at a time…left foot.” – Mum guided me into my pull-up. I placed my left foot into the left side of the pull-up.
“Good boy, now the right foot.” – Mum again guiding me into the pull-up, to which I placed my right foot into the right side of the pull-up.
Mum then pulled up my pull-up around my waist: perfect fit. My bottom had a nice soft padded feeling around it, the same with my crotch.
“Here wear this, I’m doing your washing, and this set of PJ’s is the only type of clothing dry.” – Mum said as she threw a pair of PJ’s to me. I looked at them and they were ones that a family member brought me last year for my birthday as a joke…a teddy bear, light blue patterned PJ’s.
I bit my tongue and placed them onto my body. I got into bed and mum tucked me in tightly.
“Now if you need the toilet, call me okay. I’ll be downstairs…these pull-ups are here to help you – and to remind you – that you’re having problems with your bladder. Remember I’m trying to help you, not to punish you. I love you Tom. Now have a nice sleep for me.” – Mum softly spoke to me, kissing my forehead, Mum picked up my towels as she was exiting and then turned out my bedroom light, and closed the door on her way out.
It was only gone 8.00am in the morning, and I’m back in bed wearing a pull-up…if I can’t control my body, or explain these weird feelings…things are only going to get worse for me…
Six hours few by as I was in dream land, I woke up and I didn’t remember that I was wearing a common white adult pull-up, so when I pulled myself up from my bed, my mind remembered that I was wearing one. I looked down onto my bed and it was dry:
“Thank heavens!” – I sighed in relief.
As I left my bed, I then remembered I was wearing these child-like PJ’s, I took a long stretch and rubbed my eyes…I then placed my hand onto my crotch of my pull-up and it was wet!
“For, fuck sake!” – I moaned in humiliation. Mum then walked into my bedroom without knocking.
“Ah, I see my little boy is up. Let’s see if you wet your bed hmm?” – Mum said as she went over to my bed, pulling off my duvet cover and stared down onto my mattress as she patted her right hand across the bed sheet.
“I guess I was right to put you into that pull-up. Come here Tom.” – Mum commanded as she pointed her finger to me. I knew what was coming. I stood in front of mum and she quickly placed her index finger underneath my PJ bottoms into the front of my pull-up.
“Oh Tom, I’m so disappointed, if you wanted to use the potty – I mean toilet, you should of called me to help you, instead of wetting yourself.” – Mum softly told me in her sweet voice.
I was confused, I’m the victim of bad luck and a curse, and my mum is turning it around, so that it’s my fault.
“Mum. I was asleep, I didn’t know that I wet my…my pull-up.” – I told mum, not wanting to admit that I’m wearing a pull-up.
“Tom we can’t carry on like this.” – Mum told me looking down at my crotch.
“What? It’s not even been a day.” – I protested placing my arms out in disbelief.
“Honey, first it’s a day, then it turns into a week, then a month, then if we’re not careful: full-time. Do you want this potty problem of yours sorted or not?” – Mum said giving me a cuddle.
“Yes I do mum. I don’t know whats happening to me. Something isn’t right.” – I said placing my head deeper into my mum’s chest feeling safe and loved.
“There, there, don’t worry. Mum will sort something out.” – Mum softly spoke smirking down at me.
After a few seconds mum then said:
“Right then, let’s get you cleaned.” – Mum beamed.
“Mum I’m sixteen. I can clean myself thank you; I don’t need you for that.” – I told mum. Mum looked displeased, but then she knew that if things got worse for me, she’ll indeed be cleaning me and much more to her delight.
“Oh, okay Tom. Sorry, I had a bit of nostalgia: thinking you were a toddler again. The days of us being together were timeless, so were your nappy changes.” – Mum sighed looking up at the ceiling.
“Mum! Can you please leave my room?” – I whined.
“Okay darling, but remember your pull-ups are in your draws, you have no boxer shorts, for now isn’t the time to wear them…or in the future.” – Mum whispered to herself on the way out giggling.
I heard mum say something as she left my bedroom, but took no notice. I walked over to my draw unit and pulled the unit open; I stared down on a neat pile of adult pull-ups – plain white as the one I’ve got on. What shocked me is that there was a large pack of Huggies baby wipes; to wipe my crotch with. I rolled my eyes up in the air. I took of my wet pull-up and placed it into a new large bin that mum placed in the corner of my bedroom. After wiping myself down, which was so humiliating, I’d so hate for my girlfriend to see me like this! I picked up a fresh pull-up and placed my feet into it. I pulled it up to my waist and again a perfect fit – mum must of taken my waist size from my boxer shorts to get the perfect fit for my pull-ups…if she could do that, I’d hate it if things got worse for me.
I arrived down stairs in the front room, for some reason I forgot to wear my PJ bottoms, so I was exposed in a medium tight pull-up and boyish PJ top.
“Aww Tom, you’re so cute.” – Mum said as my eyes blinked – she took a photo on her iPhone!
“Mum, what are you doing?” – I shouted looking at mum holding her iPhone.
“Don’t raise your voice to me young man. I took a picture because I wanted one for my new album.” – Mum firmly told me as she saved her photo on her mobile.
“What new album?” – I worriedly asked.
“That’s my business. I’ll make you a sandwich, watch some TV. I’ll be in soon.” – Mum said as she left the front room for the kitchen.
I was kneeling on the big sofa, looking across the room to the TV. I watched the TV, then like that feeling I had in the car came into my stomach. This Pamper pull-up advert came up for thirty-seconds. My mind went into a infantile trance, my month began to drool as I stared into the TV watching this advert.
“Mummy wow, I’m a big boy now!” – I heard at the end of the advert. I started to feel lost, alone and scared…I had every right to be, for during those thirty-seconds, my bowels had completely dropped: I felt helpless, and there was fuck all I could do…I didn’t even make a run to the toilet…I just kneeled there on the sofa while thick lumps of poo dropped from my ass-hole into my pull-up, I cracked!
“Mummy, please help!” – I shouted in fear, with tears pouring down my cheeks and mushy poo filling up my pull-up. If mum didn’t come soon, the pull-up would leak!
“Yes Tom what is it? Christ, what on earth is that smell, oh my god!” – Mum shouted in shock as she stared at my brown stained bottom.
“Tom, what the hell have you done?” – Mum asked me sternly as her arms were folded in disappointment, still staring at my poo stained pull-up bottom.
“It’s not my fault, you have to believe me. It’s beyond my control, help me please mummy.”
– I begged to my mum still kneeling on the sofa and not moving an inch.
Mum just stared at me with mixed emotions; emotions of nurture and pity that her teenage son has just shat himself in a pull-up with no control. Mum beamed when I called her mummy.
“Tom, I guess we need to move to the next stage…I stage that I thought might happen. Firstly, pull-ups are not the answer for such enigma. Come, let mummy give you a bath, then we can talk about this in detail.” – Mum said giving me a cuddle, wiping my tears of my cheeks with a tissue, then taking my hand and leading me to the bathroom for a deep body wash.
So there I was, 16 years old being led up to the bathroom in a full shitty pull-up by my mum, and the strange and real reason for it is because of that dream. A few days ago, I was playing football (soccer in America) for the school team, I went out on a date with my girlfriend, and helped mum with the hard winter gardening…as I was thinking hard on how real and powerful that dream is having on me; losing control and going into baby trances, mum broke my concentration and I was back into the present moment.
“Okay…hmm…first I’ll need to strip you, dispose of the pull-up – your mess! Then wipe your bottom with lots of baby wipes…I get them from your bedroom don’t move an inch: I don’t want your shit on my bathroom floor. God, I can’t believe how helpless you’ve become in the space of a day: God must of answered my prays.” – Mum said as she left me standing on the bathroom mat, as she went to my bedroom to get the baby wipes. I wanted to protest, but I knew I was in no position to rebel or act like a teenager.
Mum came back with the large pack of Huggies baby wipes, a pair of scissors and two large plastic bags.
“Right Tom, I’ll need to cut the pull-up, if I pull it down with the amount of mess under your bottom; I’ll be covered in shit: and that you don’t want young man.” – Mum sternly told me. I was standing submissively, letting mum do her work and obeyed her orders. It took about 10 minutes before my bottom was cleaned and smelled of baby wipes, and the old pull-up in the plastic bags ready to go to waste. I stood naked from the waist down on the bathroom mat, as mum ran a bath for me.
“Now that’s sorted: bath time!” – Mum cheered. I was silence as a mouse. Just listening to the water…and then as mum poured the Johnston’s baby bubble bath in the bath water.
“Tom, a nice hot bath will clear your anxieties like earlier, come on sweetheart get in.” – Mum ordered as she took my hand…as I did, without my knowing; mum got a tub of Sudocrem nappy cream and with her finger tips she got a lump of it and as I placed one leg into the bath, mum then rubbed the cream into my tight, cute, and baby wiped bottom. Sudocrem is so strong that the scent drifted up into my nose. And guess what? I fell into a babyish trance again. This time half naked!
“…No…oh god…mummy…my tummy hurts” – I whined as I bent forward something was happening to my body and mind, and there was fuck all I could do.
“Nonsense honey, mummy is only making sure your bottom is protected from any type of rash. I know what I’m doing; trust me.” – Mum told me as she finished off spreading the cream into – and around – my bottom.
“Are you going to get into the bath Tom, or do you need mummy to help you?” – Mum jokingly asked me, placing her hands on her hips. I didn’t answer and I started to pee into the bath.
“Tom, sit in that bath now young man!” – Mum commanded me as she got my other leg and placed me into the bath. Some of my pee only went up onto her tiles; if mum didn’t react I guess I would’ve pee on her.
“Mum, I need help, I’m beginning to think and act babyish whenever I see, hear, or smell babyish things. I also had a weird dream last night about an angel telling me that I’ll be losing my teenage abilities and lifestyle that my life is going to change for the younger. I’m scared mummy.” – I sniffed my nose looking up at my mum.
“Look you can’t believe your dreams…you have football training tonight right? After this bath, have another nap, and go out with your friends. Get away from your bedroom and get a change of serenely…” – Mum advised me as she washed me with shower gel not taking any notice of my statement of my dream.
“I think your right mum. I guess I just need to be with like-minded people, instead of being on my own.” – I smiled thinking positive – which was short lived.
“But Tom…you’ll be wearing a nappy to football training, and I’ll be there in case you need a change.” – Mum told me in a serious look.
“I’m not wearing a nappy; no fucking way! I’m the captain of the football team; I can’t go in the changing rooms wearing a nappy. My reputation would be ruined. Plus if you’re there – It’ll be unfair to me and my school life.” – I pleaded with mum as she washed my hair, but it was no use.
“Stand up and let’s get my widdle boy dry.” – Mum cooed. To which I giggled. Mum dried me off and emptied the bath…then she led me naked into my bedroom and made me lay on my bed for a minute.
Mum came back holding a thick disposable nappy and a big bottle of Johnson’s baby powder.
“Tom, until we get to the bottom of this enigma and your loss of control, you’ll be wearing nappies. Like with what happened downstairs with your messy pull-up: you didn’t even try to make it to the toilet; so I’m pleased to announce that the toilet is off limits, and I’m bringing the toilet to you: if you didn’t bother to call me and ask my help to go to the potty, or take the adult way of thinking of going like a big boy: then nappies is the answer; now let’s get your bum-bum into a fresh, clean, soft disposable nappy.” – Mum cooed as she stepped closer.
“Please mum, please I’m not a baby, only baby wear nappies. I’m a big boy!” – I protested begging naked on the floor in tears looking up at my mum.
“Aww sweetheart, there’s lot of teenagers who wear nappies because they have potty problems, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. I got these nappies from a website called Cuddlz. There’re the only ones left online, and they only ones I could get before Christmas.” – Mum told me as she stood in front me looking down at me like a helpless toddler.
“But, they have teddy prints, it looks babyish.” – I whined sniffing my nose.
“I know, I chose them, if I’m going to put nappies onto my one and only child, then they’ll have to be the best nappies around and not the crappy common ones – a mistake I made with those adult pull-ups.” – Mum told me with in her own personal displeased mistake.
“Why did you get nappies for me, even before I had wet myself huh?” – I asked mum.
“Just a hunch, like all mums, our nurturing abilities and instincts are the best; they tell us when our babies are not well and need our help. Plus I had a dream a week ago…which was helpful. Now come along, I have to cook dinner and get you ready for football.” – Mum beamed with optimism as she tightly held the nappy in her soft hands.
“I don’t want to go to football.” – I mumbled under my breath.
“Tough I’m taking you if you like it or not. You’re their team captain and you need to show leadership; be number one.” – Mum told me as I stared at her in annoyance.
“Don’t look at me like that young man. You’re the one who needs the nappy: not me. Now lie down like a good little boy; mummy will have your nappy around your waist in no time.” – Mum smiled. I fell onto my back, naked on my bedroom carpet, mum knelt down and put me into a nappy changing position which so embarrassed me, and my ego.
“Mum can you stop talking and cooing to me like a baby please, I feel like a baby when you do that.” – I whinged to mum as she opened up my nappy.
“Well, if you stop calling me ‘Mummy’ when you have your potty problems and are in need of my help and if again you start to act like a teenage boy: then yes I will treat you like a teenager: it works both ways Tom.” – Mum told me as she sprinkled Johnston’s baby powder over my crotch, tummy, chest and thighs. The scent was getting to me; not in a trance sort of way (thank god!) but in a relaxed, homely, and cosy way…an emotion that is slowly engraving into my brain cells.
“Your bottom is well cleaned from a bath and baby wipes, also protected with Sudocrem. But, I need to powder your bottom; roll over for mummy, there’s a good boy.” – Mum cooed to me softly which pissed me off. I was on the floor naked, looking up around my bedroom which scared me, for everything seemed big. Mum powdered my bottom and patted it a few times:
“Such a good boy, mummy loves changing baby Tommy’s bum-bum: yes she does!” – Mum giggled. I turned red in the face out of humiliation. I bit my tongue (I hate being called ‘Tommy’) knowing that if I act and speak like a teenager, without any ‘Mummy’ grammar and baby attitude, then mum would return the same courtesy. Mum rolled me over, without me knowing.
“Nappy time, don’t be shy, I’ve seen it all before, let’s get your bottom nappied for the first time in 12 years, ah what joy it is for me to do this.” – Mum sighed as she placed this thick Cuddlz nappy underneath my bottom, and tighten it around my waist. I was a 16-year-old boy wearing a nappy and was put in one by my own mum.
“Time is now getting on, into bed for a nap; it’s been an emotional morning for you and for me. I wake you up when it’s dinner time.” – Mum told me standing placing the baby powder on to my side unit. I got up and walked towards my bed, wear a thick nappy. My bottom sticks out and the nappy itself makes a noise when I walk…hopefully when I wear my football shorts, and run around, no sod can hear my nappy. I got into my deep warm bed and mum tucked me in as she done hours before:
“Sweet dreams Tommy. Now if you need to go potty? Go in your nappy. I’ll come in to check on you while you’re asleep. Save your energy for football training honey.” – Mum kissed me on my forehead. I quickly drifted off to sleep as mum left my bedroom.
“Tommy time to wake up: its dinner time.” – Mum cooed lightly into my ear as she stood over me.
For the third time in one day I woke up again…and it was third time lucky. I quickly checked my nappy and it was dry! I checked my bed mattress and it too was dry. I sighed with relief.
“Mum, my nappy is dry and I didn’t wet the bed: I knew it was just the stress of my upcoming exams.” – I said proudly taking no notice of that dream.
“Well, then I guess I was wrong. Here you deserve one last chance.” – Mum said giving me a spare pair of boxer shorts.
“Great!” – I rejoiced. Mum looked sad that I didn’t use my nappy.
“I’m still coming to football training with you Tommy.” – Mum told me.
“Sure, fine whatever mum.” – I replied not taking much notice. Mum left my bedroom to see to the dinner. I got up and quickly ripped of that nappy, I felt liberated. I put on my boxer shorts and then placed on a tracksuit top and bottoms, socks and a t-shirt.
I then went downstairs into the kitchen. Mum had dinner at the ready: Pie, chips, and mushy peas. I looked at the clock, we had time to kill: So I and mum had a nice dinner. Around twenty minutes after dinner we headed off to football training. I quickly changed into my shorts, football socks and t-shirt.
“Mum where’s my bag?” – I asked looking around the hallway for my football bag.
“I’ve got it: it’s in safe hands. Now let’s get you to football training.” – Mum replied calmly smirking.
I got into mum’s car as mum placed my football bag into the car boot. Mum then got into the front began to drive us to school. It’s a cold winter’s night, but when I train I’ll get warmed up.
We arrived at school – successfully this time. My school has night lights and three football pitches for the local community teams to use as well. It wasn’t packed only the other lads mums, sisters, and girlfriends were our supporters and fan base. Mum parked her car near the main entrance – close to the training ground and dressing rooms. We both got out.
“I need my bag mum.” – I said going to the car boot.
“Don’t worry about that darling. I carry that: you go and have a catch up with the boys.” – Mum said smiling. So of I went to see my team mates; completely forgetting this morning’s events.
Mum grabbed my football bag and carried it over her strong feminine shoulder then walked over to the wife of the man who is our football manager: Sarah, also known as Mrs. Fields.
“Evening Sarah, how are you?” – Mum asked in her normal friendly tone.
“Hi Joanne, I’m okay thanks, just seeing the boys train and freeze on the side-line.” Sarah smiled.
Sarah Fields: 39-years-old, hospital nurse, short and chunky, curvy with short black hair.
“Sarah, I’ve got a problem; a big one. I couldn’t phone you in case of earwigs. I need your opinion on this matter.” – Mum trustfully spoke to Sarah.
“Sure Joanne. What’s the problem?” – Sarah smiled.
“Tommy woke up in a wet bed this morning, and he wet himself on the way to school, that’s why he didn’t come in today. Then I put him in an adult pull-up just for caution, and I was right, but…” – Mum herself is embarrassed to tell her best friend.
“It’s okay, I’m a nurse remember, I’ve heard and seen it all before in the hospital. You can trust me.” – Sarah smiled giving mum a cuddle.
“Tommy messed his pull-up.” – Mum told Sarah biting her lips.
“Messed? Oh messed in that way, wow! – I’m shocked. What is an accident?” – Sarah asked in amazement and curiosity.
“I think so, he said that something made him do it, can that be right?” – Mum asked Sarah in a naïve way.
“Joanne. I’ve been in the medical business for fifteen-years. Trust me; anything can’t make anyone do something that they don’t want them to.” – Sarah told mum.
“I see…” – Mum said looking confused turning her head away from Sarah.
“My only thought is…” – Sarah held back her thought for a second.
“What?” – Mum asked looking back at Sarah.
“Is that he wants to mess himself.” – Sarah said in a cool and open-minded manner.
“I don’t think so Sarah, he has everything going for himself: football, his girlfriend, exams etc. Next year he’ll be learning to drive. I don’t think he wants to do this on purpose.” – Mum told Sarah in a positive way of thinking, trying to blind herself from the truth.
“Joanne, what else had Tom done today?” – Sarah now asking mum questions that might help out her best friend.
“Well, after the pull-up, before I bathed him, he nearly pissed on me, I had to act quickly. Then after the bath I put him in a nappy…ironically the nappy was clean and dry, I gave him a spare pair of boxer shorts to wear.” – Mum answered truthfully to Sarah.
“Well we both know Tom is a boy scout: he doesn’t take drugs, smoke, and drink alcohol …so they can’t be the fault of his potty training. Then again…there is one other reason, but I don’t want to say it, in case I cause a scene.” – Sarah commented as she turned to her left to leave mum’s presence.
“Hold on. I want to hear this ‘one other reason’.” – Mum said as she grabbed Sarah’s hand.
“Okay, well I had a patient at the hospital one time: a teenage boy Tom’s age, but his mum was treating him like a pure toddler. Talking and acting like one. Her “Excuse” was that he was brain damaged, which was true when I checked up on his file. But before that he was healthy like Tom. The mum said that she caught him on websites to do with being an Adult Baby. She said that her son slowly regressed in all mannerisms: speech, walking, thinking, bladder and bowels. So the mum enforced her son’s wish of babyhood, but in the end he was medically and mentally fucked. He now relies on his mummy. I don’t think Tommy is that sort of lad who wants to be babied again? Is he?” – Sarah asked mum. Mum thought about her answer…
“You might be right, maybe he’s playing with my emotions…maybe he wants to be a baby when it suits him, and not when it suits me. He was drooling earlier, and was calling me ‘Mummy’.” – Mum sighed to Sarah.
“Joanne, if Tom thinks it’s funny to act like a toddler, maybe you need to tell him it’s not otherwise some damage will inflict upon him sooner or later. Look, if things get bad, I know a doctor and she has a free office before the Christmas holiday; bring him in and we’ll do some investigation.” – Sarah smiled holding mum’s hand for comfort.
“You’re a real friend Sarah, thank you for not freaking out.” – Mum thanked Sarah giving her a cuddle.
“Nonsense, I’ve know you and Tom for years, if he is ill, then that’s God’s work. Come on let’s watch our sons train.” – Sarah told mum. Both women walked side-by-side together standing near the dressing room…
This Story is written by Croc