Checks your diaper

checks your diaper
I’m a big girl. I don’t need my diaper checked. Okay, I might be messy and in need of changies, but when do you really need changies? Need is such a strong word.

Art © takottah

Coren and above text by Coren

Source: http://www.furaffinity.net/view/30286760/

Yes you maybe think that you are a big girl but your messy diaper sure have another story to tell. And you sure needs to have that diaper changed so you dont end up whit a bad and nasty rash. I sure think that is not something that you wont to end up whit.

So i think you well need to accept that a diaper change is something that you need now.

Look what I made! – OofSoggy

Wow this sure is one thick cloth diaper? Or what is it?

Auntie Joan Part 11

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.”
She smiled.
“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?”
“Sure, sure.”

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

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 10

Chapter 12

Mommy said play with the new puppy

Mommy said play with the new puppy
The new puppy knows all sorts of games. Why play fetch and roll over when you can play Pokemon?

Art © takottah

Coren and above text by Coren

Source: http://www.furaffinity.net/view/30286743/

Awww poor puppy looks like no one have time to play :( Coren seems to be more focus on playing on here Nintendo Switch right now.

Auntie Joan Part 10

This story is written by Les Lea

Auntie Joan had been working from her den at home. She’d had quite a lot of paper work regarding Rainbow and perhaps even more after what happened at school. However, she’d said that we needed to talk and I was keen to get whatever the ‘problem’ was out of the way as soon as possible.

“Ah Doodle,” she greeted me caringly at the door, “how did the rest of the day go?”
I shrugged and slipped the backpack off my shoulder and onto the floor.
“I’m sorry sweetheart, it wasn’t the best way to start a new school,” she added sympathetically.
“It’s OK.”

She put her arm around me and pulled me in for an embrace that always made me feel good. She kissed the top of my head and patted my padded bottom and asked if I needed a change.
Despite the fact that I’d been wearing them since the morning, I’d resolutely kept myself from peeing in them. I tried to control my bladder as much as possible and I think I succeeded… well to some degree anyway.
“Not yet, erm, er, you said in the nurse’s office that we needed to talk, er, can we do it now please?”
I was feeling a bit apprehensive and a little afraid. I had no idea what the psychiatrist had said in his report but, after what I’d done, I wasn’t too hopeful. Also, on the journey home I’d begun to think that, if like the nurse, the principal thought I might somehow now be a bit mentally ‘challenged’, perhaps they would put me in a lower grade.
There was a load of rubbish and doubt flowing through my mind and I urgently needed auntie to help sort it out. I needed to know what was happening.

#

She guided me through to the sofa and we sat down, my padding crinkling slightly as I made myself comfortable.
“Now then,” she cleared her throat. “Mr Thomson (the Principal) has a bit of a problem with you.”
She looked to see if that information alone would get a reaction.
“Although your school report from England was positive… the psychiatrist report was not particularly positive… and blamed me for your unconventional behaviour.”
She seemed to just cast that idea off with a ‘well he would wouldn’t he?’ shrug.
“According to his professional opinion – You…”
She raised her eyebrows as if to emphasise the point.
“…apparently reacting to my need to keep you in protection, had adopted some strange juvenile habits, which he was keen to point out might ‘flare’ up at any moment.”
I looked at her and saw a look of resignation on her face.
“They think because I run The Rainbow Rooms Nursery…” she took a deep breath, “for me to cope with the sudden arrival of a heart-broken teen ‘still bereaving the loss of his parents’ I need to see you no different from the other children I look after.”
She shrugged and raised her eyebrows again as if to say, ‘that’s what the psychiatrist thinks’.
I shook my head and mumbled that it simply wasn’t true.
She hugged me tightly.
“We know the truth but because of your reluctance to tell him everything, and be quite defensive when talking about me, they think I’m the problem.”
“Ooh.”

“I’ve tried to explain things to both the psychiatrist and to the principal but the outcome is…”
She paused and I don’t think it was for dramatic effect.
“…they want us to see a different family psychiatrist and get another appraisal.”
I still wasn’t too sure what this all meant but a sudden thought struck me.
“They can’t send me away… can they?”

The very idea sent me into a panic and the flow to my diaper was matched by the deluge of tears running down my face.
“Ohh auntie, please don’t let them send me away. I don’t want to go back to that horrible school. Please don’t let them…”
My sobbing was reaching a hysterical level as the flood of tears soaked auntie’s dress as she tried her best to comfort me.

#

At that moment I felt like a little boy who had no control over anything. I was grateful for the unconditional love that auntie gave me and anxious that I in no way compromise what she did for me. However, as I wept I couldn’t help but realise that my life now appeared to be in more than just auntie’s hands. I wasn’t old enough to take complete control. I wasn’t in a position to make demands because there would always be someone (like that damned psychiatrist), who, no doubt full of good intentions and thinking of what was only right for me, didn’t get who I was and what I wanted.

Rainbow had offered me a fun and completely different way of life. I know my education more or less stopped but I was learning something from my fellow toddlers that I hadn’t learned before… friendship. I was happy to throw myself into anything that other kids wanted to involve me in instead of being the self-centred, aloof student I’d been at any of my previous schools. I felt I’d blossomed in that environment and although I didn’t want to leave it, knew I had eventually to get back to a more conventional education.

After feeling quite good being at senior school and having a friend in Oliver, I now felt totally useless. The confidence and esteem building auntie had done tumbled around me and I wanted to retreat to where I knew I was safe. It took some time but eventually my tears dried up, alas my diaper was soaked through. Auntie noticed and recommended that we do something about it. My safe space.

#

On the changing table up in the nursery auntie got to work with her usual efficiency. As she cleaned me up she added another of the stipulations from the principal – ‘when at school I needed to wear protection at all times’. He was firm with auntie about this requirement, he said he was not going to have an ‘accident’ like the psychiatrist experienced in his classrooms or anywhere else on school property. To make sure I complied with this instruction I would be obliged to visit the nurse every morning to be checked before I’d be allowed into any class.
I didn’t know a lot about psychiatrists but thought that info about my ‘accident’ in his office should have remained confidential, why was it in a report to the principal. Apparently, word had got around from the next patients, it was a small town and gossip was at a premium.

So, despite my trying to be a fourteen year-old student they were determined to keep me in diapers. I wasn’t sure whether to be happy or sad about this news. However, as auntie wrapped me snuggly in a fresh disposable, snapped a new pair of pink plastic pants into place and guided me to the open closet filled with my toddler clothes, surprisingly, I resented that the school was insisting what I wear.

#

At school in the UK I’d only wet intermittently, although, since the news of my parent’s deaths it appeared that more often than not my mind just couldn’t be bothered sending any message to my bladder when I needed to go to the bathroom.

During the day, since auntie had tried to get me back into ‘big boy’ briefs, my toilet training had been reasonably successful because I was more aware of what was needed. However, as I slept, there was no such discipline. Almost every morning I woke up wet, and I have to say, it didn’t worry me at all; I loved it when auntie changed my soaked diaper.
That morning intimacy was something I’d never experienced with anyone else before. When I was young and wet at school the ‘nurses’ just did their job, there was no love or connection from either me or them but with auntie it was so different.

Even though I wasn’t a toddler she took time and effort in making sure I was happy. She talked and we giggled, she powdered and I’d wiggle, she slipped me into a comfy diaper and I was grateful. I was grateful because the soft, fluffy, thick, reassuring diaper was an extension of auntie’s love.
Maybe that was the trouble. Maybe I’d gotten too reliant on having that circle of love surrounding my groin. However, I couldn’t let auntie take the blame for my dependency because of her devotion in making me a complete human being. I had to explain to any new psychiatrist that because of auntie’s methods I was becoming less insular and more able to deal with the real world, even if that had meant almost restarting my development from scratch.

#

However, the more I thought about it being a terrific plan, I wasn’t sure I had the right words or attitude not to make things worse when I spoke, or worse still, nervously pee myself in that kind of official company. I knew I got angry. I’d displayed that anger in the psychiatrists office and look how that turned out. I was angry that I was feeling angry, which can’t be a good place to be but… as I wriggled in my diaper and closed my eyes briefly; I could feel the stress evaporate. There was safety in my diapers.
At Rainbow and with auntie of course, I never thought about authority. I was like the rest of the kids, the adults were in charge and decisions were made on our behalf. I never thought that those decisions were made to make anything but us toddler’s lives better and more fun. They kept us clean and happy, fed and entertained; it was strange that I felt more of a real person at Rainbow than I ever did anywhere else.

Certainly with my parents I’d never felt anything more than a visitor just passing through their lives, in England I felt detached and lonely, despite the teachers best efforts to include me in everything. I think I was too far gone by the age of ten and rejected everything but study. I had begun to shun intimacy in any form as a protection, I suppose, a bit like the protection auntie let me wear. I felt safe when I was protected.

#

I satisfied myself on the notion I was quite bright. Obviously on many levels I didn’t come close but my high grades told a different story. I’d used my inner anger for quite some time to justify why I, Dean Court, was the way I was. I thought I was an individual. I thought I was clever in my independence. I even thought my bedwetting was somehow proof that (even as a boy) I was my own man. Stupid, Stupid STUPID!

My anger would never appear valid it would be seen as a childish tantrum rather than any cogent argument I wanted to present. Somehow I needed to keep that rage under control like it was at Rainbow. I’d never once felt anything but happiness there and somehow I’d have to transfer that pleasure to my day to day existence in High School. Perhaps the diapers might be the solution, or if not, at least a helpful soft and fluffy hug when I felt my annoyance rising.

#

I grabbed a pink t-shirt and a pink and blue pair of shorts from the closet and wondered downstairs to join auntie for our meal. As always she could see I was in some kind of quandary and wanted to help, the thing was, I just didn’t want to think grown up stuff when I was in my toddler clothes. I needed them to escape from…
“Sweetheart,” She looked concerned. “I wish I could lift all this stress off your shoulders.”

I sat at the table toying with my food. I knew I shouldn’t, she’d made me a lovely meal, but I just couldn’t raise any enthusiasm for it. Again the feeling of inadequacy swamped my head… and… there was something else that came and bit me on the bum… I realised I’d become a whiney little kid who was using any excuse to justify my behaviour.
Auntie had said some time ago that there would be times when I wanted to be a toddler and there were times when I needed to be fourteen. I had to separate these two different sides of my personality and it was proving very difficult.

That night auntie and I tried, in between cuddles, to map out some kind of strategy… and I’d have to find a way to contend with any comments from other students once they found out I wore diapers. Wearing diapers wasn’t a worry for me as my general lack of concern over what anyone else thought about me, or what I chose to dress in, had armed me pretty well. I knew that if they didn’t get a rise or embarrassment out of me they would soon stop any comments. However, there were always going to be bullies and my diapers might just be like a red rag to a… bully.

#

That night I dreamed of bullies and Oliver. Well I say Oliver but at times he was both him and Colin. It was perhaps strange that at times they both melded into one; though I’m thankful that each time that happened they/he was still my friend.
The bullies had striped me naked and were running around throwing my diaper to one and other as I played an unhappy ‘piggy-in-the-middle’. Meanwhile, ‘Coliver’ was desperately trying to retrieve it but was having no luck over these older and bigger boys. Eventually, having tired of calling me names and seeing my pee-pee wobble back and forth in the middle of the playground, they left, taking with them my protection and leaving me naked below the waist. ‘Coliver’ searched around until we were alone and then surreptitiously delved into his backpack and produced a fresh clean disposable.

I was shocked but with a nervous smile he said, “I’ll always have your back.”
He helped me into it and wearing just that diaper I went back to class. It was embarrassing to some degree but, as everyone knew about my diapers by then, it wasn’t a big deal.

#

The following morning I woke up dry. Yes, one of the few occasions when this happened although my bed was a mess from all the tossing and turning I’d done during my dream. With my sheets in a tangle and pillows thrown onto the floor I’d woken up slightly disorientated and worrying about bullies lying in wait. I mistook my teddy bear, looming in the corner of the bed as a possible antagonist and thrown out my fist in a pathetic attempt at a punch. Teddy looked pretty annoyed at what I’d done and auntie came in and found me bouncing him up and down on my plastic bulge frantically apologising for hurting him.

I wasn’t sure if this was quite the way for a fourteen year-old high school student to be acting but I suppose neither was auntie stripping me from my diaper, sharing my joy at being dry and sending me off to see to my morning ablutions. When I returned my boxers had been replaced with a disposable and a pair of clear plastic pants. I suppose so that the nurse and anyone else who might need proof could see I was well protected.

“Do you want to try and do it for yourself?” Auntie asked quietly from the door.
Over the time I’d been in diapers I had made one or two attempts at fitting myself but it just seemed such an operation and far better if someone else saw to it.
“Can you do it please auntie. I, er, prefer it when you do, er…”
She smiled and did what she always did… she made me feel safe and secure both mentally and physically.

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 9

Chapter 11

A Sissy and her Plushie

A Sissy and her PlushieCrinkle crinkle squish squish.

Art © takottah

Coren and above text by Coren

Source: http://www.furaffinity.net/view/30286717/

What a good kitten we have here :) Yes let your diaper handle your potty needs your have more imported thing to do now like giving your red panda plush a big and nice hug :)

It sure is allot important that your plush receive allot of hugs :)

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