Auntie Joan Part 6

This story is written by Les Lea

I hadn’t asked to be changed. Although it hung heavy I was getting used to having a full diaper and it didn’t bother me. It was fascinating to see just how much a disposable could absorb and even more fascinating to feel the weight as you carried it around whilst just getting on with whatever you were doing. I knew eventually someone would make the decision and I’d be put into something clean and dry but until then, I’d just have to put up with it, like all the other kids had to do. However, auntie being auntie, she seemed to enjoy our short walk home with me waddling along with a slightly enhanced wobble. Not that I was quicker, that was the last thing I was, but, with my legs held further apart, my toddler shuffle was far more pronounced.


Once back at the house we went upstairs to the nursery but I could smell the fresh paint and noticed that the WET PAINT sign from the other room had been removed. We peeked inside.
“Goshhh.” It was the only comment I could come up with.

The boys had done a fantastic job. The furniture had been painted dark blue; the walls were in grey and pale blue. A new bed had been erected and had a wonderful blue and black set of linen (that looked both grown up and sophisticated), indeed, everything about the room felt and looked tasteful. There was a huge mirror on one wall and large framed film posters hanging on the others. A desk had my computer set out and all the boxes and crates had been removed and my clothes hung up or set out in draws. I’m not sure if this was all the work of Gordon and Colin, but it looked fantastic and ready for a bright young man to occupy.

I couldn’t help it. A rush of pee gushed into my already sodden nappy as I looked at auntie and she was smiling at my reaction.
“This is for the times when you don’t want to be my ‘little boy’ but you do want to be my ‘sweet young man’.”
She hugged me as we inspected the work the boys had done and again I had a couple of emotions at the same time.
I couldn’t believe the lengths auntie was going to make sure I was happy… and I was incredibly grateful. Also, how emotionally connected I was to such care and attention that it made me excitedly wet myself. I didn’t know I had any more pee left but the warming in my nappy was only eclipsed by the way I felt about auntie.


Once we’d both completed our inspection and praised all that the boys had done we joyfully returned to the nursery, where I was stripped, cleaned and soon settled in a fresh disposable. My opaque plastic pants were once again pulled up to keep everything in place and I was left like that to play until the meal was ready. I decided to watch more cartoons. The ones auntie had started showing me the evening before had grabbed my attention simply because, being in England for so long, I had no idea what kids watched here in Kansas.
I sat on the floor, my padded bottom wriggling against the carpet as I watched with interest each short animation. They were unbelievably silly and I found myself in fits watching and enjoying the various characters’ antics. I could easily see why they had made the transition from screen to clothing and why kids identified with them… they were just so much FUN.


Meals were earlier now so when it was ready I was called through and we ate at the table. My place was set with a plastic spoon and a Disney Sippy cup filled with juice. Auntie put a plastic bib around my neck (it had toy cartoon cars with faces on them) I wasn’t expecting this change but twisted in my chair and smiled when I made that noise as my plastic pants rubbed against the slippery seat. She looked at me with a touch of disdain but was smiling so I knew I hadn’t gone too far. The food was cut up into bite-sized pieces and I think it was an encouragement to use my fingers rather than the colourful Disney spoon I’d been given.

I began by using the colourful spoon. However, after just a couple of spoonsful I thought it would be fun to feed myself as a kid did. At Rainbow we already ate most stuff with our fingers, especially those under four. There, it was funny watching some of the other kids holding a spoon, as if they were grown up, but with their other hand grab the food and shove it in their mouths. Of course, I did the same and I suppose auntie had seen this and was giving me the opportunity to do what she thought I wanted.

I alternated between the two and it was just as well I had the bib in place because I’d made such a mess. We talked and I told her about Deborah and my ‘escaped lion’ game, she was amused when I told her that the spank on the bottom had startled me and I peed myself. I confided that, because she was a big girl, we all did as she said and auntie agreed that we all should take notice of someone like Debbie, because she was a good girl who looked out for everyone.


After our meal, and having my face wiped with a damp cloth, we returned to the living room and auntie and I sat looking at another one of her photograph albums. I really did like these moments because I could snuggle in real close, the rustle of the plastic also being very comforting and she would put her arm around so I’d feel all warm and cosy. I’d quickly got into not feeling in the least bit worried about wondering around the house wearing only my protection. It stayed warm all day and most of the evening, and unless auntie put the air conditioner on, I was happy to dress that way.
So, I huddled up close as she turned the pages telling me what memory each image conjured up. There was one of two young boys with their parents I didn’t recognise.
“Ah, that’s Gordon and Colin with their parents.”
She sighed but obviously the photograph meant a great deal to her.
“They were seven and eight then and it was taken about three weeks before their mother ran off.”
The two boys looked happy. They were both wearing suits; smart jackets and matching shorts, and looked like they were on their way, or had just come from, church.
“They’d been to a wedding, really the last function the family ever attended…”
Her voice drifted off as the emotion of the day transferred itself to her.
I softly asked if they had all been friends.
“No, no, I never knew Sarah, their mother, and only knew Tom, their father, after the boys had broken into Bill’s…”
She hugged me and turned the page, partly lost in her own thoughts, but I asked her for more information so she flipped it back.


“I told you that the boys were becoming a bit uncontrollable when your Uncle Bill became aware of them.”
I nodded and burrowed in for more facts, the accompanying crinkle made me squirm with pleasure.
“When their father was on one of his drunken episodes, it sometimes wasn’t safe for the boys to be around him. He never got over his wife leaving and the boys were a constant reminder of her, which would occasionally send him into a deep angry depression. Tom blamed Colin, who is just a bit slow and a bedwetter, as the reason she left. Although, whether this was true or not, Tom used it as an excuse to beat his boys.”
I was sad with this story but hoped she’d continue as I was fascinated to find out more about Colin.
“A few times they arrived on our doorstep and Colin would be bruised and Gordon wouldn’t be much better so we’d take them in for the night hoping that, come the morning, their father would have sobered up and have sorted himself out… and often he had.”
“Why do you have the photograph?” I innocently asked.
“Well, it was the one thing that the boys remembered of the last time they were a family… and happy. They thought their dad might destroy it and it was their favourite image so, they simply brought it to us for safe keeping.”
She shrugged.
“It’s been in our album ever since.”


“I like the suits they are wearing.” I commented as I ran my finger over the print, “They look really smart.”
“Yes, they do don’t they?”
She happily reflected.
“I think their mother was quite proud of her boys but something, and even Gordon and Colin didn’t know what, drove their parents apart.”
She was lost in thought.
“I think it was much more than Tom’s drinking but… I shouldn’t speculate, time’s past…”
I could feel auntie getting a bit weepy so thought I’d change the subject a bit.
“That’s sad.” I cuddled in closer. “I wonder what I’d look like in a suit like that?”
Auntie moved to one side so she could get a better look at me.
“Are you saying you’d like a nice short suit like that for yourself?”
I cast my eyes down because I did, I thought the boys looked very boyish and handsome but was afraid to ask.
In the short time I’d been in Kansas the weather had been very hot and it seemed a good idea, if you were going to wear a suit, that shorts were an obvious addition for a young boy.
I loved having the warm breeze tickling my bare legs so that was also an attractive plus point for wearing shorts and since I’d arrived, I hadn’t worn jeans or trousers or even thought about wearing such items. Shorts, and my diapers, were to me at least, the ideal dress code.
Something else crossed my mind. If auntie thought they looked well-groomed, she might like it if I looked stylish as well. I wriggled in my nappy as mental images of me in such clothes filled my head and how I’d feel proud of being with auntie if we went somewhere special dressed in such a smart, though boyish, outfit.
However, auntie had done so much for me and couldn’t be expected to buy a suit like that, which may have been all the rage some years ago, just on a whim from me… but the boys did look nice and I wanted to look nice for auntie as well.
Auntie smiled.

“Perhaps that’s what my little boy needs, something to make him feel… distinctive… and well-turned-out. Maybe we might be able to stretch the budget a little.”
She hugged me tightly and continued with further info about when the boys stayed over.


I found out that Colin had been a bedwetter all his life. Maybe he was just a bit slow to be potty-trained but auntie said that once you got to know him, he may not have been the brightest lad in the area but he was most certainly the nicest. Gordon was his brother and protector and they were very close through the good and bad times… and still were today.
She shared the fact that the first time they stayed over, a ten year-old Colin was so scared of wetting the bed the two boys had to share, he tried to stay awake and avoid the problem. Unfortunately, when Bill and auntie looked in on them before they went to bed, the boys were both fast asleep but it was obvious one, if not both, had wet themselves. Auntie had woken them up and both boys were alarmed and afraid of the repercussions. Auntie and Uncle Bill soothed their worried expressions, repeatedly telling them not to worry, that it didn’t matter and ‘accidents’ happen.


The boys were cleaned up in the bathroom by auntie where I’m not sure if they had experienced a loving touch since their mother had left. Meanwhile, Bill stripped the bed, covered the mattress with a rubber sheet and put clean sheets ready for the boy’s return. However, back in the bathroom, auntie had told the boys that though it didn’t matter that they had wet, to avoid having a pile of washing all the time (and by this time it was obvious that it was just Colin who had the problem) she wanted to put him in a diaper. Because the nursery was up and running by then she had things like diapers, plastic pants and all the other stuff needed, or at least could be adapted, to be used for older boys.

It was with some convincing that Gordon was able to pursued Colin to accept this proviso and that was only on condition that Gordon wore one as well – the fact that neither had been beaten because of what had happened made them more agreeable to auntie’s and uncle’s suggestion. Reluctantly, and because it was getting late, and to avoid the thought of having to return to their drunken father, they let auntie put them in thick diapers and plastic pants. Come the morning the bed was dry, though Colin had soaked his diaper, but appeared happy and grateful that he hadn’t wet the bed… or his brother.
After that, whenever they stayed over, Colin at least wore a diaper to bed. Sometimes, if his younger brother appeared reluctant, Gordon would also be diapered but all-in-all, the boys settled into that routine if they stayed overnight… and seemed none the worse for it as a result.


I was fascinated by this story and wanted to know more.
“Do they still wear diapers?”
Auntie smiled a mischievous smile.
“Who’s a nosey parker then?”
I looked suitably rebuffed but I still wanted to know.
“The boys are much older now and we,” she looked down at me with a shake of her head, “don’t have that type of relationship anymore. The boys have a home of their own and I have no idea, er, what arrangements are made now.”

I thought she actually knew more than she was telling me but I realised that Colin’s secret/problem was his own business and I had no right to cross-examine auntie for my own prurient desire. I had to admit that I liked the thought of a man Colin’s age still happily wearing, and using, diapers.
“Is that why you’re happy for me to wear these…” I rubbed the front of my bloated plastic pants. “because they did?”
She looked slightly surprised at my question.

“No sweetheart. I thought you needed them because you seemed so lost and angry… and wet the bed. I hoped you would discover the comfort in them that I know some boys find in a diaper.”
Now it was my turn to look a bit surprised.
Seeing my confusion she continued.

“There are many different reasons why a boy needs his diapers. He may need one because he isn’t potty trained, he may need one for medical reasons, he may need one because that’s the only thing he can cope with or, maybe, he needs it to feel happy. You may be surprised to learn that for many boys and girls, a diaper makes them happy.”


Auntie had given me loads to think about and as she tucked me in that night, all comfy and cocooned tightly in a new cream and blue onesie, I asked if she’d minded that I’d messed my diaper the night before.
“Sweetheart, a diaper is for such things… so why would I be upset?”
“But it’s not right or nice, it’s…”
“You really must put thoughts of right or wrong out of your mind.” She interrupted and stroked my hair. “Don’t get bogged down in such thoughts as they don’t matter and more especially, they shouldn’t matter to my sweet little boy.”
I felt that love radiate from her as she continued to tuck me in. She added wistfully; “Whilst he wants or needs his diaper, for as long as that may be, I’ll be there to help.” As if this was something ‘in general’ will happen and be in no rush to change things.
I grabbed my fleecy blanket, pulled it into bed and gently rubbed it against my face. Almost unbidden my thumb slipped between my lips.
Auntie’s eyes lit up as if she’d just remembered something.
“Oh, I noticed you sucking your thumb last night when I called in.” She reached into her cardigan pocket. “Perhaps you’d prefer to suck on this?”
She revealed a white and dark blue pacifier and held it near to my mouth.
The shiny rubber teat suddenly appearing was a surprise but, as I’d taken the bottle and auntie had seen me sucking my thumb, it didn’t really seem much of a problem.
I could see she was letting me once again decide whether it was something I wanted, and as usual, she was correct because I quickly lifted my head and let her slip it between my lips. I had no idea what kind of picture I made but I was sucking and enjoying the taste of my first dummy.


I was going to bed whatever time auntie said was bedtime. It made no difference whether it was 6pm or 10pm I went when I was led upstairs to be readied for sleep. Auntie had made it such fun to be washed and dressed for bed because I never knew what exactly I’d be wearing. Oddly enough, no matter what time I went I was always tired and in need of my bed. It’s no wonder kids sleep so much, it really is quite exhausting keeping up with their ideas and games, so when there’s a break for cookies or lunch or a nap… it’s really needed… or at least I did.


Not surprisingly my dream included Colin, except, like me he was only a toddler and we were playing together and dressed the same – in the short suits I’d seen him wearing in the photograph, although with thick protection underneath. Auntie was still auntie but we two were best friends (I think I’d magically become Gordon) and did everything together. It was great having a friend like him as it was something I’d never had before. We had secrets together, we knew what the other was thinking, and we built fantastic fortresses whilst having a brilliant time coming up with games that only he and I knew how to play. It was one of the best dreams I’d ever had. Auntie was there checking our huge diapers and eventually finding we were both soaked. We laughed because we were unaware, in all our excitement and games, that we’d peed our pants.

At that moment I woke up giggling with Colin about our situation only to find auntie really checking my early morning diaper and saying it was time to get up to be changed. As I moved from my dream world into reality I realised I hadn’t only wet, I’d messed as well. Up until that moment, everything, all my feelings and emotions, made me believe it was so real but the dream had let me down because I hadn’t messed in that… well at least I couldn’t remember doing so. There was something else, I’d woken up with my pee-pee (that’s what auntie called it and I wasn’t going against what she said) stiff in my diaper and the last thing I remember was that Colin and I were holding hands enjoying spinning each other around.

As auntie set to work cleaning me up I lay there wondering why, for the second night running, I’d filled my diaper in such a way. I was also thinking what it would be like to have a friend like Colin. I wasn’t certain if I should mention my dream to her because I couldn’t be sure how she’d take that I was obsessing about one of her boys, in the end I decided to keep quiet about it.


For the next few weeks everything was going well. Well, for me at least as I continued to attend Rainbow. I never tired of the constant new play and ideas that toddlers could come up with and the sheer joy of running about aimlessly. Tag, hide ‘n’ seek, capuddle (I think this one was made up by Molly?), dress-up, singing, I learned a lot as the kids learned as they grew.

I’d come to love my time with all the toddlers and it never bothered me that I wasn’t making friends my own age. When not at Rainbow I kept myself to myself spending all my time at home or with auntie. If we went anywhere I still wore my diaper and protection except I might wear a t-shirt without a cartoon pig or such things on it. My shorts covered my protection and it didn’t bother me that I crinkled as I walked I wanted to keep the feeling of being a dependent little boy for as long as I could.

One Friday afternoon, just after auntie and I had returned from Rainbow and were getting ready for the weekend, a crate arrived addressed to me. It had been sent via the American Embassy in the UK and it was my clothes from the school there. They had hung onto it wondering, and expecting, my return to their privileged educational establishment. Once they were definite that wasn’t going to happen, they parcelled up all my belongings and sent them to the embassy not knowing exactly where I had gone or what had happened to me. The embassy in turn had eventually tracked auntie’s address and… here it all was.

I think auntie was surprised at the over-elaborate school uniform I’d been expected to wear. It was all very dressy and not very comfortable but, in that particular school, it was expected – ‘Tradition’ had been the watchword, even if it meant absolutely nothing to the students. Most of us couldn’t wait until lessons were over and we could return to the dorm and put on something a little more appropriate to our age. So, there was also the rest of my ‘civvies’ (it’s what all the boys called anything that wasn’t that damned uniform), jeans, joggers, t-shirts, shirts, trousers, shoes – in fact all the things that made staying in that god awful place, tolerable.


There were report cards, a few certificates I’d received, mostly for my success in swimming and running and a small trophy I’d accidently won on a fun quiz night we’d had in house. There was also my sportswear – running shorts, vest, trainers and a pair of shiny (house blue) boxing shorts that I’d worn for the two bouts I had whilst at school.
I’m not proud of the fact that after two bouts they banned me from the ring. The coach couldn’t channel my anger so once I got into the ring all I wanted to do was beat the crap out of my opponent. As I simply refused to do what the coach said, and after I’d followed through once too many times, the ban was imposed and that’s when I took to running, especially cross-country running, something the school was quite proud of. I liked being alone and though I didn’t take to training, I did win most of my races, much to the annoyance of the teacher responsible for developing our talents.

Auntie seemed both proud and aghast when I told her about my ‘achievements’, none of which I really wanted to acknowledge but auntie was auntie and she should know about me… I didn’t want any secrets.


Meanwhile, I’d just been put into a dry disposable and a pair of fun, nursery print plastic pants when the doorbell rang. It was a couple of people from the education department and they needed to speak to auntie. She had argued the case that I was still very traumatised by what had happened to my parents and had retreated, for the time being at least, into a protective shell that excluded other people. She claimed that it was with a great deal of patience and persuasion I’d been cajoled into even agreeing to at least mix with the toddlers at her nursery, which she claimed as some sort of victory on my part.

The examiners from the department were not completely convinced and said they would need a psychiatric report and not just her word. I was still upstairs at this point, all this took place in the kitchen and without my involvement but eventually they wanted to meet me. She said before I was led in to meet these concerned people to put some shorts over my diaper but to keep my childish cartoon shirt and act like I did at the nursery.

I acted very nervous around these people and held auntie’s hand throughout the rather stilted conversation. I even wet my diaper but as they couldn’t know that, it was more for my benefit than theirs. However, after much discussion, and with the summer recess rapidly approaching, it was eventually agreed, after a planned visit to see the school board’s child psychiatrist, that I’d provisionally start 9th Grade in the new school year.

My warming wet diaper was no salve to the knowledge that before too long I’d have to grow up and mix with my peers. I was one very unhappy little boy. The tears the visitors saw were real as I released even more pee into my rapidly filling nappy.

This story is written by Les Lea

You can find more story’s like this one posted on My ABDL Life. The only thing you need to do is to check out this page to find them.

Chapter 5

Chapter 7

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