This story is written by Les Lea
Strange to say but Rainbow and the private school in the UK had more in common than I thought. It certainly wasn’t the uniform (ha-ha) but attitude; neither tolerated bullying to take place.
At Rainbow, if there was an argument or some conflict (usually over a toddler wanting to play with a toy someone else was already enjoying) it was frowned upon by the adults who would settle the disagreement by speaking with the aggressive party and not condone such behaviour. Often the dispute would end with a “Sowwy” and both parties would end up playing happily together.
At the school in England a similar tactic was enforced (apart from the “Sowwy”), bullying was efficiently discouraged, with the older students taking it as part of their function not to allow such behaviour to go unchallenged. As a result, bullying in both institutions was not prevalent and if it happened, was quickly neutralised.
School settled down fairly quickly. I had my early morning checks with Nurse Jefferson and she would call the principal to confirm I was well-padded so, once she got the “OK” from him I was allowed to go to class.
My new, self-imposed uniform of long pants and un-tucked in shirt or long jumper, more or less hid the bulkiness from view so wasn’t a source of comment. I did smell sweet from the baby powder but I suppose everyone had their own ‘smell’ so mine wasn’t thought of as anything in particular. The crinkle and creak of my plastic pants was there but nobody appeared to be that concerned. All in all I thought I was fitting in surprisingly OK.
As I’ve mentioned, wearing diapers doesn’t worry me in the least and even after I’d told Oliver the reason he was still my friend. In fact, the more I told him the closer we became. Over those first few days, after auntie had explained that I might actually enjoy sharing with a friend, I never shut up.
Oliver was keen to hear everything and was a terrific listener and a guy who didn’t hide his own emotions. When I told him about my parent’s dramatic death he appeared more upset than I’d been. Oddly enough, his reaction set me off and I think for the first time I cried for my parents and not for myself.
This, I realised too late, was a mistake because emotionally at least, my bladder was in complete sympathy and let flow. My diaper gave me that warming glow and Oli wondered why I’d gone quiet but for some reason this felt different. I looked at Oli and realised that he was the first person I’d ever really shared such a deep moment with. Of course there was auntie but Oli was… a… friend, my first real friend, and I wasn’t sure how to react. Why I should have been nervous I have no idea but he gave me a gentle hug and smiled so I knew all was well.
I didn’t visit the nurse immediately but knew eventually I’d have to go and get changed. Despite the lotions and powder she applied, auntie had warned me about wearing a wet diaper for too long so a quick change was advised.
Oliver did say something that I found arresting. After hearing that my wetting apparently increased after my parent’s deaths, perhaps, he thought, I’d been affected more than I understood, maybe even subconsciously. Now where a fourteen year-old could get such an insight from I do not know but it certainly set me thinking.
My new best friend was a constant amazement. Because of his working class background I had assumed, very wrongly as it turned out, that he’d struggle in class. Not a bit of it. Like me he was way ahead of just about everyone else in the 9th Grade. However, unlike me his was a natural intelligence, whereas mine was bought and paid for at special private learning facilities. In those first few days he was a constant surprise and I began to rely on his friendship pretty heavily as I negotiated my way through an unfamiliar educational system.
For those first few days wearing my protection I managed to remain almost dry, what little trickled out was easily soaked up so wasn’t noticeable. However, after that emotional discussion involving the death of my parents, and Oliver’s comment, the deluge was intense and I was really glad that auntie had made sure I wore some very strong rubber leak-proof pants that day. I don’t know if she gets a sixth sense about this type of thing but she had me well protected when I needed it most.
Nurse Jefferson I think still regarded me as a little ‘special’ and treated me as such. On the few occasions I had to visit her she was all smiles and cheerfulness and definitely talked down to me but not in a patronising way. Now, you may have thought I resented this but in fact, it made me laugh. She certainly wasn’t like auntie when she changed me but she was nothing like the other ‘nurses’ who had tended to my wet diapers in the past. She was fun, helpful and sympathetic… if on a slightly different level.
She would often engulf me in powder.
“Just to keep you smelling sweet.”
And take some delight making sure I was well tucked in and my plastic pants didn’t inflate too much as she pulled them over the disposable. She was keen that I wasn’t embarrassed by anything she did. However, sometimes she added a separate thick layer of padding if I’d had a particularly thorough soaking.
“Just to be on the safe side.”
She’d say with a final pat to my cushioned bottom. I’d thank her for all the attention (my English public school politeness coming to the fore again) and she would say, “Thank you your Lordship” and chuckle to herself.
Thanks to Oliver (I hardly had much contact with Yoosuf, who, as suspected, had become a prime target for a lot of girls, which he loved), I was able to integrate a lot easier than I’d originally thought I would. A few of the other students had also been to Rainbow Rooms Nursery as kids so auntie was well known and despite my unorthodox first few months in town, once folk knew I was her nephew other people started to talk to me.
I had been noticed around town in my ‘childish’ clothes and some of my peers (and others) let their thoughts be known. They assumed I was a “retard”, or at least that was then impression I’d given. “A f*cking freak” was another observation from a tenth and eleventh Grade groups of kids. Others thought I must be a foreign exchange student because of my accent (and politeness), whilst a few appeared to know of my dramatic story and offered sympathetic looks and the occasional sigh (although that was mainly from girls). The boys tried to get me involved in their games but I was still having difficulty in applying myself to this new situation, thankfully Oliver smoothed the way and under his guiding hand I mixed relatively well.
When one boy questioned me about the short shorts he’d seen me wearing out and about in town with auntie I was a bit stuck for an answer until Oliver came to the rescue.
“Oh, yes, I need to get myself some of those,” he smiled as if he was in the know. “They are trending in Europe as the next big fashion…”
He let me add my piece.
“MTV Europe is all over it.”
I couldn’t believe I was saying this in an overly emphasised British manner.
“I may be the first to bring this style to this fair town but I doubt I’ll be the last.”
There were a few nods of approval, or at least understanding, although a few other boys sniggered, joyfully ridiculed me and said they’d never wear something that babyish. At least Oliver’s quick mind had dug me out of a hole I could so easily have slipped into… perhaps never to return?
I sighed with relief.
To begin with, after each new day of school I couldn’t wait to return to 46 Glendew Lane and resume my toddler life. I’d rush up to the nursery and pull off my school clothes and wait for auntie’s return to properly fit me in my diaper. The intimacy was all part of my happy journey back to the place I liked the best and, bless her heart, auntie was happy to oblige.
However, once I’d got to know Oliver better I’d arrive home and wasn’t quite as quick to change. In fact I’d go into the ‘other room’ and turn on the computer (something I hadn’t done for absolutely ages) and either play games or catch up on the loads of stuff that had accumulated there since I’d arrived at auntie’s house. Before I knew it auntie would be calling me down for the evening meal and I’d be still dressed as if I’d just gotten in.
She never said anything about this only asking me about the day and how teachers and other kids were treating me. I couldn’t complain. She seemed OK with this news and didn’t push for further details. After the meal, and I’d helped with some chores, I returned to the ‘other room’ to finish my homework.
I’d slept in there a few times but still regarded the nursery as my main bedroom however, as I stripped down to get ready for bed the urge to stay there was strong. I stood in front of the mirror wearing just my protection, which was bunched up but only slightly damp, and wondered if I wanted this as much anymore.
There was little doubt that, as I ran my hands over the glossy, slippery plastic surface, the bulkiness under my pants felt as wonderful as ever. The tremble of comfort they offered was there but… I wasn’t sure why but I thought, well, I didn’t know what I thought… but there was certainly some doubt in my mind. Perhaps wearing a diaper for ‘big school’ (I giggled at the very idea of that name) was not what I really wanted.
I wriggled out of my protection and slipped into the shower. When I returned I was expecting auntie to be there to make sure I was well diapered for the night but she wasn’t. With a white towel wrapped around my waist I wandered into the nursery and checked out all the things I liked so much. Touching the pile of diapers and running my fingers over the smooth array of plastic pants I caught sight of myself in the full-length mirror and saw that the towel still made it look like I was wearing a diaper. I smiled to myself… but it was decision time.
I moved over from the nursery into ‘my room’ and searched through the draws to find suitable PJs. Yes, I was giving this whole – being fourteen – a real good go and pulled on the type of nightwear I’d not worn since I’d arrived at aunties. Without the bulk of the diaper the pale blue cotton pyjama pants slipped around my waist with ease. It felt a bit strange and it didn’t seem right but, I was determined to be fourteen for the night.
I pulled the covers up and for once wasn’t surrounded by cartoon characters or stuffed toys. My thumb waivered in front of my mouth for a second but I felt really tired and was about to go to sleep when auntie came in to say goodnight.
“Are you OK Doodle?” She ran her hand through my short hair.
“Yes auntie. I’m at High School now so…”
She seemed to understand and gently kissed my head.
“Sleep tight sweetheart.”
She turned the light off and closed the door.
I didn’t remember dreaming but I must have slept very heavily because auntie was there rousing me for school.
“C’mon Doodle; you’re going to be late if you don’t get a move on.”
I lay there trying to get my slightly fuddled senses in order. Normally auntie has checked if I’m wet or not, but not this morning. She was drawing the blinds and letting in a rather grey looking morning. Gone was the sun that had been a feature of every day since I’d arrived and the clouds had gathered making the place appear very dull.
Waking up like this, in my new bedroom, which wasn’t as bright or cheery as when I woke up in the nursery, left me feeling a little down. In fact, it took me longer than usual to motivate myself to get up but then my reflexes kicked in when I realised I was soaked.
The sigh that left my throat unbidden attracted auntie’s attention. She saw the look of pained anguish on my face and rightly assumed what was wrong.
“Doodle, don’t worry.”
She was already coming over to hug and comfort me.
“We can sort it out… no worries.”
She knew I must have wet the bed but I was annoyed at trying to be a teenager without at least taking some precautions.
“But auntie,” I sobbed, “I’ve ruined a new bed. I’m sowwy”
The “sowwy” was unintentional but at that moment I felt like a silly little bedwetting kid, even though I’d done it hundreds of times, at that moment I felt I’d let auntie down.
“Don’t worry sweetheart. There’s a waterproof cover over the mattress,” she let that info sink in. “So it’s only a few sheets and your PJs,” she smiled and ruffled my hair, “so no great disaster.”
I felt useless but auntie helped me up and out of bed, stripped it and me, then sent me off to shower. When I returned, auntie had changed and remade the bed and had my school protection ready. The changing mat and all the creams and powders were waiting so I just lay out and let her get on with it.
“I suppose it’s back to the nursery for me?” I looked guiltily at her.
“It’s up to you sweetheart. I think you have to try this room and give the nursery a miss for a while… but only if you want.”
“We can always wrap you up safely in here.”
Her eyes darted around the room.
“Perhaps a pull-up… or two… to begin with?”
Her eyes raised to question if that would be acceptable.
As she finished shuffling the plastic pants into place I nodded my agreement.
“OK then, that’s what we’ll do. Come on, time’s running out and you’ll miss the school bus if you don’t get a move on.”
The first few weeks passed quickly although I was aware that it was a school enmeshed in a tense atmosphere. Unlike Rainbow and my English school, there were many cliques and divisions that appeared to flourish in such a huge and diverse environment. The school was the only High School in the region so had an enormous number of students, who were garnered from not only the town but all the smaller outlying areas. This produced a diversity of strange allegiances to various factions including; fashion, sport, clubs, family and rivalries between previous other schools.
In the senior aspect of the school it was the ‘jocks’ that appeared to reign supreme. Unlike at the school in England, there was a lot of flaunting their success, no matter how local and parochial that success was. A great deal of fuss was made about even being on a team never mind if they actually won anything (which they hadn’t). I was amazed at the attitude of these people – their strutting and self-belief was, to my mind at least, undeserved and I couldn’t help but point that out to anyone who might listen to my view.
Oliver suggested that, for the moment at least, as we were in an easily targeted age group (with absolutely no influence) I should curtail any negative opinions on the High School Broncos, or any of the other sports teams that infested the place. The football team were big and fearsome with apparently an absolute right to lord it over timid students, which was mainly everyone else.
I hated to say it but the school in the UK just would not put up with such behaviour, where modesty in achievements was thought of in a positive manner. I remembered one of the ‘Old Boys’ from that school returning with an Olympic Gold medal, which we all (yes even me) were keen to touch. I’d never met a nicer, more unassuming man (in fact he must have only been a teenager) who had thanked and praised his peers, and school, for the encouragement they’d given him.
Meanwhile… well… words failed me because I just couldn’t (without swearing) say what I thought of these unworthy, loud-mouthed bullies.
Meanwhile, at home I temporarily put the nursery ‘off limits’ on school days so my nights were spent in ‘my room’ wearing new PJs under which I wore a pair or two of pull-ups as a safety net (so to speak). A couple more times I flooded them and wet the bed but in general they seemed to work reasonably well. However, I did miss not having my slinky plastic pants on as stroking them before I dropped off both relaxed me, if I was feeling that way out, or made me hard, if my mind was working in a different direction. The thickness of the padding denying me access, which was frustrating but in a gloriously wonderful way, making the smooth outer coating seem all the more sensual.
There is something quite special about certain vinyl pants. Some can be smooth, yet unyielding, thick and offer support but little comfort. However, some of the soft, opaque pants that I wore were so slinky and pliable that I sometimes couldn’t imagine not wearing them for the sheer emotional thrill their touch gave. I looked at myself many times in the mirror and was overjoyed to see the well-padded seat of my diaper enclosed in that smooth ductile material; the elastic legs gripping and holding everything tightly in place before I slipped on a pair of shorts or trousers. The thought of what I had on under those clothes had me in a constant state of secure pleasure.
Although my wetting at school was less than what I used to do at Rainbow, I still had some accidents. The principal was adamant that I’d not be allowed out of my protection until we’d seen the second psychologist and he’d had a report that I was ‘safe’ and in fairness, although I had no intention of messing all over the school, I still was having peeing problems.
It was unfortunate that sometimes I got no warning of my bladder leaking until I was already in the process of flooding my diaper and of course by then any attempt to stop the flow was a useless act. On these occasions I’d visit Nurse Jefferson in the break and she would sort me out fairly promptly. Because it had become such a relaxed operation, and I was usually the only patient, it never occurred to me that others might use the facility.
As I lay naked from the waist down an injured jock, straight from the playing fields, came bursting in holding a bloody rag to his equally bloody nose. He was a very big senior and I’m sure it was only because he’d been told to see the nurse that he hadn’t just carried on playing, blood or no blood.
He saw this 9th Grader, me, lying out, buck naked and getting lotion rubbed into my hairless groin (I was still using the creams that auntie used in those first few days to prevent hair growth). He did a double-take as he saw the huge disposable being readied and the plastic pants waiting to be slipped up.
It was as if all his prayers had been answered to make this journey to the nurse’s office worthwhile.
He burst out laughing
“Oh sorry nurse I didn’t know you were on baby-sitting duty.”
He guffawed at his clever comment.
“I’ll wait until his diapee is all snuggly-wuggly… I’m sure my bloody dripping nose can wait until after such an emergency.”
“Now Kyle,” Nurse Jefferson responded. “I’ll only be a few more seconds so why not wait in the office and then I’ll see to you?”
He slowly backed out but not without taking in the final act of being taped into my disposable.
“Get the kindergarteners sorted first… I’m sure nap time isn’t far off.”
He was mumbling but making sure I heard every word.
I was a bit embarrassed to say the least that my diaper change had been witnessed by one of the football fraternity and although I wished otherwise, I had a feeling this wasn’t going to be the last I heard about it.
Nurse Jefferson didn’t seem to be worried, or even acknowledge the disruption and happily carried on making sure my protection was in place.
As I left the room the huge bloody hulking frame of Kyle was waiting just outside the door.
“Well aren’t you just precious,”
He delivered his words with both sarcasm and venom.
“I’m sure I’ll be seeing a great deal of my sweet little baby girlie…”
He patted my padded bottom.
“That’s thick, thick padding for a thick, thick baby. Oh yes… she’s just right to be a playmate.”
His voice was a mocking and threatening growl.
I was angry at his words and that he’d feminised me but at that precise moment I was just too humiliated to come back with a witty reply. His bulk was very intimidating and as he entered the room I’d just exited he blew me a kiss and smeared more blood on his already bloody face.
As the door slammed shut I shivered, wondering what hell I could expect from then on.
This story is written by Les Lea
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