It sure seems to be a good thing to wear some good diapers if you decide to drink allot of alcohol :) Seems like his Bambino Magnifico have ended up whit a hangover off its own ;)
It sure seems to be a good thing to wear some good diapers if you decide to drink allot of alcohol :) Seems like his Bambino Magnifico have ended up whit a hangover off its own ;)
It was the sheer smoothness Jordy liked; the strangely slippery, silky, sensual feeling he got as he ran his hand over the material. His breathing changed as the glossy texture sent sensation after sensation to his already overloaded brain, all the while the tips of his fingers continued to trace around the bulge beneath. Undoubtedly, the slickness of his padded desire slipping beneath him as he wriggled in utter contentment made for the warm and snuggly world in which he found himself immersed. A deep sigh of satisfaction escaped his lips because of the way he always felt at these times when he could indulge in his greatest pleasure.
He had no idea where, when or why this desire for nappies and plastic pants had begun to manifest itself but now, at 22 years old and living on his own, it was something he was happy to indulge in. Tracing the contours of the diaper beneath caused unbelievable excitement, he could feel himself leaking his juices but held back from completing the action, after all, these days there was no rush. Since he left the family home to take up a new job in a different town he was enjoying this new found freedom that was now available to him whenever he desired it. He turned over onto his stomach and gently rocked himself against the mattress of his new bed, his hands now paying attention to his huge padded bottom. Again, the silken thrill as his feather light touches made him squirm and shudder in the act of self-gratification.
Jordy was fifteen when, on impulse, he’d obtained his first ever pack of disposables and a pair of plastic pants. On many occasions he’d past the display in the kiddie aisle of his local store, the one with all the diapers stacked up and the happy smiling faces of all those babies and toddlers looking so joyful. Obviously, they were only happy because of what they were wearing and the diapers or pull-ups or plastic pants appeared to fit the bill. At least in Jordy’s head that was the conclusion he came to and he wanted to be as happy as they were. He’d nervously wandered around the drugstore on that particular visit and timed it so that there were no other customers around to see his purchases. The old assistant beeped the items through with barely any acknowledgment but even so Jordy was out of there so fast he hardly had time to pick up his change and receipt. Once home he hid the objects at the back of his closet and waited until bedtime before he would try for the first time the thing that was now an overwhelming obsession.
He remembered that he’d had these strong urges for quite some time but couldn’t quite recollect when exactly they’d started. He’d tried to wrack his brain to see if he had any memory of wanting such things when he was a toddler or while he was at school but his memory bank was blank so probably it wasn’t then.
There was a time when he was ten years-old and very ill where his parents had nursed him gently back to health but he had no recollection of diapers and plastic pants being involved, but then again, he was in a coma for such a long time he really had no idea what arrangements had been made. Perhaps it was a subconscious thing? Perhaps he was dressed in diapers and plastic pants during that time but just never realised it, well, except on some other level?
Whatever the reason, these questions would have to wait. He was enjoying the here and now far too much to be distracted as he turned over again and slowly traced the top of his leg between flesh and plastic – GOD, that was so spine-shakingly erotic.
That first time: He’d decided to have an early night so with a yawn excused himself, kissed his loving parents goodnight and slowly sauntered up to his room. There was no lock on his bedroom door but as far as he knew, neither of his parents had ever entered without knocking first. However, he realised that the most risky time of getting caught was from when he got naked and eventually slipped himself into the disposable.
His hand shook in anticipation as he opened the package. It shook even more as he slowly unfurled the soft crinkly item and spread it out on his bed. The crinkle sounding so loud but in fact was soft and hardly audible. It took him a few moments to work out which way round it was supposed to go but eventually lined up his bare bottom with the expanded object. He sat himself down and enjoyed the first sensations as the soft fabric greeted his skin. He loved the feeling but as this was the most risky time for unexpected visitors unfortunately couldn’t spend too much time experiencing the unbelievable rush he was getting. He pulled the diaper up between his legs and again the soft, welcoming hug and satisfying crinkle sent shivers through his body. The tapes were eagerly released from their protective covers as he gently manoeuvred them into place. He was snug, very snug and unbelievably happy as he looked at himself in the mirror; he looked sensational, the bright white diaper contrasting with his slightly tanned youthful body. He quickly slipped over the plastic pants and couldn’t believe how they appeared to hold everything together in such a sexy, shimmering way. He ran his hands over it all, the texture giving him an immediate hard on and then he instantaneously shot his load. He staggered towards his bed as the extent of this unexpected orgasm sent him reeling; he felt faint, excited, bewildered and shaking with the aftermath of such a powerful release, one like he’d never experienced before.
It was a forceful initiation and one that completely wiped him out. As he sought the comfort of his bed he’d hardly been able to pull a sheet over himself before his exhaustion swallowed him and he fell into a deep sleep.
He couldn’t remember sleeping so heavily and probably would have slept on if his mother hadn’t come in to wake him for school. Thankfully the sheet had stayed wrapped around him so his secret was hopefully still safe. However, he could see his PJs hanging over the end of the bed, which his mother must have noticed but nothing was said so Jordy waited until she left the room before he dare make any move. Again he felt the vulnerability of his position and the fact that if he’d had a restless sleep his night time ‘interest’ could so easily have been discovered.
He lay there thinking and slipped his hand beneath the covers. The thick and slippery welcome was all he needed to be transported back to last night’s surprising climax and once again his cock took on a life of its own. However, his mum calling to him to get up or he’d be late meant he couldn’t fulfil his pleasure but for a brief moment wondered if he should wear his protection under his school uniform. The idea was very appealing but the practicalities meant it wasn’t possible. His tight school trousers would not hide the outline, the crinkle as he walked would be noticeable to anyone and everyone and, and this was perhaps the main thing, how was he going to get changed for sport, which was a double period in the afternoon, without his mates copping an eyeful. No, he decided, best leave this particular activity for the bedroom.
Reluctantly he stored his ‘special’ items away and got himself ready for the day ahead. Despite sport being his favourite subject at school; he played well, was quite athletic and was captain of his team, his thoughts were now totally targeted on his diaper and plastic pants and what they would be doing to him when he got home.
Throughout his final years at school and later at college, he would maintain his interest in his protection. He began to ration himself as the cost of diapers soared and he found he didn’t quite have the funds to keep up a steady supply. That all changed once he got a job, a well-paid job, that he applied for fresh out of college. Initially he thought the downside would be that he wouldn’t be able to live at home, the work being in another city a hundred and fifty miles from where he lived but the salary was better than originally stated and of course the other benefit was – total freedom.
So, now in his sixth month with a great career, a nice bachelor pad and finances to support his growing fetish, those babies on the displays in the kiddie aisle were correct – diapers do make you unbelievably happy.
Jordy wriggled in complete satisfaction, his plastic pants slipping nicely around him and his thick diaper hugging and controlling the long but inevitable release he was anticipating. He could hardly breathe such was the expectation as his hand slid smoothly over the bulge. His heartrate increased, his breathing almost stopped, the temperature rose and his body trembled.
“Yeeeeesssss, oh God… mmmmm… ooohh fu…. aAAAAAGGGHHH. Yes, yes, yes…”
Story is written by Les Lea.
To find more story written by this user or others you can check out this page to find out what story’s is posted on My ABDL Life.
Wow this diaper sure have expended well. Wounder what type of diaper this boy is wearing? It sure looks like a nice diaper to wear and try out.
You can clearly see that he have put this diaper to some good use :) What a good diaper boy he is :)
Nothing to make a cub stammer and blush like telling them that they're going to be put in their favorite, extra thick diapers for the night.
— Mr. Shadow (@DaddySnowKitty) July 13, 2017
He sure know wish button to pouch.
“Wake up sweetheart, time to get up; we’ve got a full day ahead.”
Granny was gently stirring me from such a deep, deep sleep.
Drowsily I twisted and stretched, I was so comfortable I didn’t really want to move.
Eventually my eyes began to focus and I could see granny beaming down at me.
“Well,” she said as her fingers traced the outline of one of the characters on my nightshirt, her smile broadened, “I know another sweet little bunny that needed their sleep.”
A yawn escaped as if in agreement.
Slowly she drew back the covers and I lay there slightly disorientated because I couldn’t work out what time it was. I mean, I’d fallen asleep in the afternoon and it didn’t feel that much later but, well, the light in the room made it, ermmm…
Seeing my confusion granny leapt in with an explanation.
“Sweetheart, you’ve slept right through. Its morning now and breakfast is ready when you are.”
She drew back the curtains and let in more of the fresh morning light. I could see the cloudless blue sky outside with the obvious promise of another fine day.
How on earth had I slept for so long? I must have needed it but hadn’t felt particularly tired when…
I began to wonder if in fact I had been very tired and just hadn’t realised. Perhaps it was the long walk into the village? Maybe, everything from my home life was just catching up with me? Sleep was coming particularly easy after all those months of my parent’s constant bickering, when even dozing for a short time had been a problem.
There was little doubt that since I’d been at granny’s I’d felt incredibly stress-free. Even the silly, though incredibly comforting, nightshirt had added to the cosy feeling and helped keep me calm. I may be fourteen but thoroughly loved my new PJs.
At home, my jammies hadn’t meant a great deal, I wore them if I remembered but often just slept in my underwear but now. Well. It was like cuddling up to your favourite teddy bear, all warm and fuzzy and something you could totally rely on… except, more so.
I ran my hand down over the nightshirt. I’d forgotten just how juvenile it was but it didn’t matter, the pinkness and blue rabbits made me smile. Kiddie style or not, it all seemed very appropriate for such a splendid morning – lively and adorable. And, that’s how granny made me feel anyway.
As the material slipped under my fingers once again I got the delightful sensation I was actually stroking a little rabbit, but, stranger still, that petted little bunny was me. The soft fleecy coat, the warm glow, the totally tranquil feeling… it was all so wonderful.
I remembered, even as I’d slept, stroking myself and squirming in pleasure, despite my bulky protection, nothing stopped that marvellous thrill coursing through my body. I even recalled waking slightly to feel a warm flush in my nappy but again it felt pleasurable so fell back to sleep knowing I need not worry.
As I’d slept and drifted on a cloud of utter contentment I experienced another hand slowly rubbing the fabric, which now I assume must have been gran though at the time it was all just a disjointed dream.
“There, there Sweet-pea… you just relax, sleep… just take it easy,” said a voice so soothing, so encouraging.
Now, as I thought about it, what were just phrases in my head before, was definitely granny, probably coming to bed and wishing me a goodnight. The gentle caress, the reassuring hug, the soft kiss and the tender arm that encircled my waist left me with a feeling of total love.
All these thoughts and nocturnal memories flooded my mind as granny cheerfully helped me up from the bed.
Once standing I became aware of the heavily soaked nappy clinging between my legs. I’m sure if it hadn’t been for the particularly thick and tight pink plastic pants it would have slid down my thighs landing in a sodden pile at my feet.
However, gran said that we’d sort it all out after breakfast so I cautiously (and squishily) made my way to the kitchen wondering just how much pee a nappy could actually hold… it felt like several gallons.
The thing was, fourteen or not, I now totally accepted that I had to wear a nappy. It didn’t feel babyish, it didn’t feel odd, it simply felt like that’s the way it should be. Filling the thing, either day or night, was not a problem, granny seemed to expect it. What should perhaps have filled me with horror, a soaked and drooping nappy, was normal and I was encouraged to give it no thought at all.
Granny’s total and unconditional love meant that any problem I had was no problem at all to her. In fact, she’d gone out of her way to make me feel like I did when I first used to come and visit her as a toddler. There was nothing too much trouble for her little ‘Sweet-pea’ and I appreciated that she’d gone to so much trouble to remind me of the fantastic times we had together before my parents had become emotional high-maintenance.
Breakfast was my favourite sugary cereal and a glass of milk, both of which I downed very quickly. I hadn’t realised just how hungry I was and a second bowl, followed by a large glass of apple juice, went down with equal speed.
As I sat eating and drinking my protection oozed a bit between my legs and it wasn’t very nice. I was glad that the plastic pants gran put me in the day before were sturdy enough to prevent leaks so at least I wasn’t dripping all over the cottage.
I’d noticed my ‘accidents’ were getting a little worse because each morning I’d woken up very damp, the day before I’d peed my pants and I’d even had a surreptitious dribble in the bath. Yep I was definitely ‘tinkling’ (a granny term from when I was tot) more.
As a consequence, granny had been correct in making me wear some protection because my bladder seemed to have a mind of its own and I had to admit I felt safer when I did. I’m not sure if it was security, defence or just plain preference but I liked the bolstering quality of them now and more than happy to enjoy the security it offered.
However, there was certainly something special about being back with granny. It was like stepping back in time. I suppose wearing a nappy was all part of the reinforcement of when things were good and, in her own sweet way, she was reminding me of those happier, more sentimental times.
Granny saw me wriggling in my chair and humming to myself. At first I wasn’t aware I was but, although the fullness and dampness of it wasn’t necessarily pleasing, my wriggling wasn’t because of irritation but somehow it amused me. There was an unmistakeable rustling from the plastic and a sort of ‘squish’ from the saturated cloth. As I ate I was unintentionally entertaining myself through the little noises my protection was creating.
“I think I’d better get my favourite bunny out of its wet nappy before there’s a chance of any rash, we wouldn’t want that now would we?
I giggled but shook my head like a well-behaved toddler as she guided me back upstairs to change.
Standing in the bathroom she pulled the night shirt over my head, the soft winceyette sending a delicious tingle all over my body. The plastic pants were tight and, as she eased them down, I could see the imprint of the elastic waistband and leg cuffs leaving a red mark. No wonder they didn’t leak. Then the sodden disposable slipped effortlessly to the floor where granny had me step out of it and into the bath. She ran the warm water and then instead of having a bath, I stood whilst she soaped and sponged me down like you would a toddler.
Once all that was done she led me back into the bedroom where a large disposable and enormous thick shiny blue rubber pants were waiting. I wasn’t expecting to be put back into protection, it was morning after all, but I didn’t feel able (or want) to complain. It felt like granny knew best so it was best to go along with her judgement. In fact, I really liked the way gran was looking after me and it all just seemed effortless and practical.
She always takes pride in smearing in the preventative nappy rash cream, making sure that any vulnerable area is well coated. She has fun sprinkling on the baby powder (I’m giggling more and more each time she does this) and fixing my disposable (with an extra layer of padding) correctly, which means I’m always grateful for her attention to detail.
Pulling up the rubber pants I could feel there was a bit more ‘body’ to them than the plastic ones I’d been wearing. They were denser, shinier and looked fairly impenetrable in comparison but I guess she’d looked at the nappy I’d just taken off, realised how saturated it was so decided I needed more help than usual. She appeared happy with the result, whilst I chuckled (I don’t know why but I’d been in that joyously juvenile frame of mind since I got up) as she checked and smoothed everything down, looking at the final glossy effect with a nod of approval.
Another nightshirt was pulled over my head. The cotton was as soft as the previous one except the material was blue with little brown squirrels running all over it. It made no difference, as soon as it engulfed me and tickled the back of my legs I felt so happy and cosy I thought I’d never want to take it off again, which was a strange thing to enter my head. However, many similar thoughts and questions had done exactly the same but had disappeared with the ease with which they arrived.
Uncontrollable chuckles just erupted as I stood waiting for whatever was to happen next. The nightshirt had an effect I couldn’t explain except I absolutely loved wearing it. It tickled, it comforted, it was so unlike anything else I’d ever worn. Granny was all reassuring smiles and I felt happy that she was happy.
I was dressed for night but the day had only just started.
“We’re going to a party… a pyjama party.”
Granny announced when she saw me examining the baby pattern on my daytime clothing.
Was about all I could muster at that point though in truth, once her announcement had sunk in, I was suddenly quite thrilled by the idea of a party.
Indeed, had I been a little kid I might have found myself jumping up and down with excitement.
Unintentionally, I was actually jumping up and down.
The clothing now made perfect sense and the ultra-thick protection hardly registered because of the anticipation of going to such an event. Any reluctance that I may have had regarding what I was wearing and being seen by others had completely disappeared.
Granny noticed by immature enthusiasm.
“From now on sweetheart, it’s going to be fun, fun, fun.”
She stroked my hair, smoothed down the nightshirt, which sent even more ripples of pleasure through my body and ended up patting my padded bottom.
“Well sweetie, I think you’re just about ready so… shall we go?”
She slipped a huge colourful bag over her shoulder and headed for the door.
There was no doubt about it, I was beaming from ear to ear at the prospect of the party and straining like a puppy on a lead desperate to be let off. Unfortunately, that excitement, together with the milk and apple juice from breakfast had an effect and I found myself, quite uncontrollably, filling my pristine and lovingly applied nappy.
However, I just wanted to get off and join the festivities as soon as possible so I didn’t say anything to granny, hoping that she couldn’t tell. The warmth spread around my groin and bottom… I smiled what I hoped was an eager smile to hide my guilt.
Granny didn’t tell me whose party it was she just held out her hand, which I took with barely a second thought, and we toddled down the back lanes to our destination.
For the briefest of seconds I had a touch of Déjà vu. I’d walked down this lane, holding granny’s hand before, which over the years was not an impossible thing to happen except, I was dressed exactly the same but still only a toddler. It was weird but the ‘vision’ soon passed and everything felt right again.
Thankfully granny doesn’t walk too fast so the journey wasn’t an awkward waddle trying to keep up with a soaked and bloated nappy between my legs. The blue rubber pants were very tight so kept everything quite well contained but there was a feeling in that particular area that I might be pretty well waterlogged. Then I remembered granny had fitted a thick soaker pad so that was probably what was giving me that ‘bloated’ feeling under my nightshirt. As I shuffled along holding her hand I was smiling to myself for a couple of reasons. One was that I was off to a party; the other was that again she’d known I’d need extra protection and that’s just what she’d given me.
Granny was very special indeed.
For a second time I noticed that nearly every back garden we passed the washing hanging out was very similar; nappies, colourful plastic pants, lovely designed nightshirts and various towels. It seemed that granny wasn’t the only one who needed to keep up with a messy kid.
No sooner had I noted this phenomenon than I disregarded it as anything in particular because I could hear the noise of a party in the distance. Needless to say my waddle speeded up a bit and I was almost dragging gran along behind me. However, she kept a grip on my hand so I couldn’t just rush off by myself.
Eventually we arrived at a building that looked like it was once a small village school. In fact it did have Thurswell Green Infants carved into the stone above the door but there was a newer painted sign that announced Thurswell Green Crèche. This colourful banner had happy cartoon children and baby animals all over it so I suppose it now doubled for a slightly different need in the village. Granny guided me through the doors, by-passing a couple of bright little empty classrooms and out into the back.
This was a surprise.
The large enclosed area must have once been the playground and sports-field for the school and it was still being used in a similar manner. There must have been about thirty or forty children charging about, playing on various swings and slides. Toys were everywhere; there were a couple of shallow little plastic paddling pools with boats and other objects floating about. Trampolines, a cardboard fort, huge building blocks and a host of other colourful items were peppered around the place.
My eyes lit up when I saw the large bouncy castle, which was proving very popular. It was one of those things that I’d always loved to play on but, being, er, erm… I forget now, but too old for simply jumping up and down on some inflated piece of plastic.
What I noticed most was that the children were all ages, from toddlers to teens. In fact, there were definitely other boys and girls who were older than me all running about, screaming and laughing but the one thing we all had in common was – our nightshirts. This was a very specific pyjama party.
A few toddlers were running about wearing just their nappies, whilst others like me wore their brightly coloured nightshirts. As people bounced or ran around, their nightshirts flapped in the warm morning air revealing a host of different coloured protection. Some were plain white, some didn’t wear plastic pants and others had bright and shiny pants keeping everything in. What I noticed, but it didn’t really click as anything strange, was that all the kids of every age were wearing nappies.
So, this was gran’s idea of a pyjama party… GREAT… I couldn’t wait to join in.
She let go of my hand, patted my padded bum and told me to go and enjoy myself. I didn’t need telling twice and immediately made my way to the bouncy castle. There was a short line of kids waiting and an even longer line of shoes; trainers, sandals and flip-flops belonging to the people already bouncing up and down. I looked around at the swarm of youthful exuberance and hardly anyone was wearing anything on their feet. It must be that once you’d taken them off, the grassy surface proved more enjoyable. I quickly slipped off my trainers and put them into the line with the others and I had to agree, the grass felt really fantastic tickling between my toes.
Suddenly I experienced someone slap my arm.
“Tag… you’re it”
I spun around to see the smiling face of a boy, a little bit younger than me, running away but looking over his shoulder, I suppose to make sure I was going to join in. I did. I set off after him and before long I was playing amongst a group of other kids. It was fantastic, all ages played with each other and no one was left out. As new people arrived they were just as quickly absorbed into the noisy multitude and having a brilliant time.
It appeared that a large proportion of the village youngsters, and quite possibly any that were visiting like me in the school break, were here. It was a very communal activity, which seemed incredibly well supported.
Around the edges of the playing field were gazebos and awnings offering shade and sitting chatting in those were where the adults kept themselves. Mostly the noisy kids were left to their own devices but occasionally individuals were called over to have their nappies checked. If the grown up thought they were too wet or messy, they were changed right there and then on the spot before being fitted into a fresh one and sent back out to play.
It was the same from the youngest to the oldest and no one thought it odd, mostly those being changed just wanted to get back with their friends to continue whatever it was they were doing. The noise and the screaming, the laughter and childish excitement about being with such a big group of like-minded juveniles was just so infectious. I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed myself so much or played so many different and silly games.
Granny called me over because I’d been running around for about an hour, lifted up my Winceyette nightshirt and slipped her hand down the front of my tight reflective blue pants.
“OK baby, let’s get you changed… you’ve been like since we left home and I don’t like you in this state for too long.”
I shrugged, so she had known but let it pass because of my excitement… I loved granny.
As I looked around I could see that most of the shaded areas had loungers, deck-chairs and spread out covers and most had huge holdalls somewhere nearby. Parents, aunties, uncles and grandparents or whoever was caring for the various children had come well prepared to make sure their little ones were going to be well looked after.
It never occurred to me to be shy or anxious about granny changing me in public. Indeed, only ten feet away a boy, who was probably a couple of years older than me was nonchalantly being changed and next to him was a little girl, possibly his sister, who was also being slid into a pair of nursery print vinyl pants. As soon as both of them were done they kissed their parents and charged off to join their group of friends.
As granny was fastening my shiny blue rubber pants back into place, her neighbour, Mrs Davies came over holding the hand of a little boy. He was wearing what appeared to be a very wet disposable but still had a huge smile on his face.
“Peter here has just been for a swim in one of the paddling pools,”
She half laughed and shrugged at the same time.
“He didn’t realise that his nappy would soak up all the water.” She laughed again. “What does he look like?”
With that he was plonked down beside me whilst being relieved of his flooded and drooping appendage.
He smiled across at me as Mrs Davies got to work cleaning him up and powdering his hairless little body. She introduced him as her grandson.
“Hi” I half smiled and nodded back
“Wiwl you pway wiv me?”
His big blue eyes were both smiling and searching hopefully.
Granny gave me a nod and a smile that I took as “That would be a nice thing to do”. Not that I wouldn’t have anyway but… well… I’d do anything to please her.
“Mmm, er, sure…”
Granny patted my padding then pulled the nightshirt back down to my knees.
There was something I’d noticed since the first time granny had put me back into a nappy – the padding around my bum and the thickness between my legs made me feel, er, different… no special, er, no that’s not it either. Gave me a feeling of total wellbeing, as if, being wrapped in such soft, thick material was sending messages to my brain declaring all was wonderful and I had absolutely nothing to worry about. Granny also gave me that feeling, as did the nightshirts, there was something unusual going on but it was something I embraced.
“This one will be a minute or two yet.”
Mrs Davies said as she pretended to search for something under her grandson.
His face was engulfed in a broad grin and his little giggle, as she tickled his sides and slightly tubby tummy, was quite contagious. I found myself laughing along with him for no other reason than it was fun to do. Both granny and Mrs D were also smiling as their two charges rolled around hardly able to contain their mirth. We both wriggled on the blanket in our fresh clean nappies chuckling our heads off.
So as to protect young Peter should he want to go back in the paddling pool, Mrs Davies fed a pair of tight see-thru plastic pants up his legs. His blue cartoon printed disposable was clearly squashed by the glossy material giving the effect he was somehow trapped in glass. He squirmed, beaming his childish but quite captivating smile as they were snapped into place. Once granny had made sure I was looking my best, we set off together to find something exciting to do. He slipped his hand into mine and we made our way to the makeshift cardboard fort.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d played with someone his age but I, and a couple of others, were soon involved in a fantastic game of aliens and dinosaurs. I was no stand-offish teen but an energy fuelled toddler and it appeared I wasn’t the only one. Before long we had about ten people join us making monster noises and alien sounds. I’m not sure there were any rules as such but that didn’t stop us charging around having a brilliant time.
There simply was no age barriers.
The nightshirts never seemed to hinder our play although sometimes, the colossal size of the protection underneath made running at speed very difficult. Some kids would fall over and expose just how loaded their nappies were or reveal some unexpectedly silky, shimmering covers. Some boys had equally colourful or frilly vinyl pants like the girls but no one commented. In fact, I don’t remember seeing any tears or nastiness amongst any of the children. We were all getting along wonderfully because it didn’t matter, everyone was equal and what you wore wasn’t down to you, it was the decision of the grown up supervising.
There were many styles of vinyl pants that I thought looked fantastic and mine, on more than one occasion, had little hands pawing at the very smooth glossy surface. Judging by the noisy mayhem going on around us no one seemed in the least bit inhibited by what they had to wear.
After a further couple of hours the kids started congregating at the canopied areas for some lunch. Once again, everything seemed to be well organised as the huge bags were delved into and a copious amount of food and drink produced. All the kids huddled in close to their parents, or whoever had brought them, and settled down in the shade of the very hot sun, to feast.
Granny of course had brought some of her fabulous pies and I shared them with Peter and Mrs Davies. A couple of other grown-ups I didn’t know but whose kids, Ray-Ray and Bonnie, I’d been playing with also came over and shared granny’s and Mrs D’s fabulous baking.
“Do you remember Mr and Mrs Wilkinson?” Granny asked me.
I felt a bit guilty because obviously granny thought we’d met before but I couldn’t recall when it could have been.
“Sorry but…” I shook my head slightly.
“Well don’t worry about that.” Mr Wilkinson said smiling before shaking my hand. “You seem to have made great friends with our nephew and niece.”
“Yes, we’ve had a great time…”
I started to say but the food was being spread out so the adult conversation centred on that.
“Thank you for inviting us to join you all.”
It was Mrs Wilkinson’s turn to talk.
“It really is a splendid day and…” she said looking at the fine spread granny and Mrs D had set out, “you two really have the gift for baking… this all looks simply scrumptious.”
Ray-Ray was wearing a nightshirt like mine except with a different colour combination, whilst the young girl Bonnie just crawled around in her rather bulky nappy. Again it all seemed so normal and our blanket was a wonderful place on which to spread out. As he sprawled, stretched and yawned Ray-Ray’s jammies rode up and I could see the neatly pinned terry nappy he wore under an opaque pair of plastic pants. For some reason, as I bit into a fantastic piece of pie, I began to think whether I preferred fabric or disposables and was quite captivated by the choice made for him.
However, as we all enjoyed what was on offer, Mrs Wilkinson produced a couple of drinks for the kids. To my surprise at least, both Ray-Ray and Bonnie, who weren’t toddlers, drank their milk from baby’s bottles. Even Peter, who was the youngest of our little group, drank from a sippy cup and I wondered if granny had brought one for me. She hadn’t, I drank my chocolate milk from a refreshingly cold carton which was delicious. But I was thirsty and begged for a second, which of course granny let me have with a warning to take it easy seeing as I’d wolfed down the last so quickly. Despite my best intentions and with not a little embarrassment, I still somehow managed to get a large proportion of the cool brown milky substance down the front of my nightshirt.
“It’s a baby’s bottle for you in future.”
Granny said half seriously as she looked around at the others who were slurping and nursing without making a mess.
She pulled the stained nightshirt over my head and again I giggled as the tickly fabric sent ripples of pleasure around my body.
“I’ll let you rest now and I’ll sort out something else for you later.”
Lunch certainly wasn’t as noisy as it had been earlier and, as meals and drinks were finished, things got quieter and quieter until the entire assembly had drifted off as they would at nap time in kindergarten.
All around were snoozy and worn out youngsters snuggling up to their loved ones. All the adults seemed grateful for this lull in proceedings and appeared to join them in this calm interval. On our blanket granny, Mrs D and the two other adults were sitting in deckchairs, whilst we kids huddled close together on the warm fleecy blanket. Without my nightshirt I was just wearing my shiny blue protection. As sleep was about to engulf me I felt Peter snuggle up closer and wrap his arm around my slippery protection. I heard him sigh softly as he drifted off, slip his thumb between his lips and, with the weather being so pleasantly warm; it wasn’t long before I joined him.
I woke up to see Peter facing me and sucking on a dummy that had replaced his thumb whilst he still snoozed contentedly. Mrs Wilkinson was in the final act of changing Ray-Ray by pulling up his plastic pants and Mr Wilkinson was patting down his niece’s new pink plastic pants over her large nappy. I could see both fabric nappies held in place by two huge pins with pink safety covers. At the same moment I noticed this I also became aware that I’d wet myself. The chocolate milk had gone right through me and I’d filled my nappy. Granny was just about to see to my needs.
Some of the other children were already up and about, charging around like before and bouncing up and down on the inflatable castle. I heard my name called and being waved at so, as granny slipped off my rubber pants, I shouted back that I’d be with them shortly. She peeled away my soaked nappy and set about with a host of wet wipes to clean me up.
Ray-Ray and Bonnie had already run off to join their friends and Peter was still sleeping innocently on the blanket. Mrs D checked his padded bottom and grimaced, apparently her angelic little grandson had done more than wet himself. She shrugged, delved into her bag and retrieved another, much larger disposable and some extra padding. She let him doze as she pulled down his plastic pants and released his messy blue disposable. Granny had just about finished cleaning me up and was rustling a pair of see-thru plastic pants up my legs, they looked similar to the ones Peter was wearing and I assumed meant that any ‘accidents’ could be immediately identified.
“There.” She announce proudly. “My little sweetie is all spick and span.”
She kissed the top of my head and patted my thickly padded bottom and sent me on my way so I didn’t have to be a witness to the mess Peter had made. I was thankful.
The rest of the afternoon continued much the same as the morning and even running around in the hot sun didn’t seem to inhibit anyone’s spirits. We all seemed to have a terrific time though by around four-thirty we were all pretty well tuckered out.
Slowly the fun died down.
Eventually granny folded up the blanket and packed her bag and called for me as it was home time. I had one last bounce before I regained my trainers and waddled over to her. Peter and Mrs D had already gone; the Wilkinson’s had gone a lot earlier so although I didn’t want the games to end, I knew the party was ending. Someone else was packing up all the chairs and awnings so all we had to do was to say our farewells to those still left.
Granny held out her hand and once again I was more than happy to hold it as we toddled home, I even offered to carry her shoulder bag, which she seemed most grateful for. We chatted about the day, about the new friends I’d made and how fantastic I thought the idea of the pyjama party was. I told her I was surprised to see most teens, in fact all the kids, dressed in nightshirts like mine and asked why this was.
“Oh sweetie, we’ve been wearing nightshirts for many years, there’s a clever lady who makes them specifically for us here in the village.
“But why nightshirts and not, er, you know, normal pyjamas?”
“Well sweetheart, it’s down to access.”
I looked at her a little confused.
“It’s so much easier to change our sweet babies if they wear something that is easily accessible… and over the years we’ve found these nightshirts, which everyone seems to adore, the best system.”
The fact that an entire village of youngsters was wearing protection didn’t register as anything unusual. I accepted granny’s reasoning without question. I supposed, if I had to wear a nappy there was no reason why others didn’t feel the need as well and, as I’d found out, I was glad of them now.
None of the kids charging around at the party had questioned why they were wearing what they were and nor had I. I hadn’t assumed anything it just wasn’t something I thought needed an answer.
It was what it was and we all seemed happy enough with what that was.
We arrived home and the first thing granny did was check if I was damp or not. I was, very.
“OK sweetie let’s get your clammy nappy off and you in the bath for a nice long soak.”
I smiled and run up the stairs to strip off whilst gran filled the bath with one of her famous lavender bubble bombs. I’d never experienced these before I visited her home but I actually loved the smell, the way it made the water not only bubbly but also feel all silky and nice. My skin felt like I’d been well and truly pampered and sleek with a thin layer of exotic oils.
As granny suggested I soaked for a long time I took full advantage. I skipped the need to play with the little yellow duck but kept happily submerging myself below the tide of suds. I’d surface with foam piled on my head and looking in the mirror kept rearranging it to make beards, moustaches and the like. In contrast, the hairs ‘down below’ I’d developed and which had caused some unease when I’d on that first night were no longer a problem as they’d simply disappeared. Eventually granny came in like she had on that very first day and spread a towel inviting me to get out and dried. Where once there had been awkwardness and embarrassment about being naked in her presence, now I just climbed out and let her encircle me in the soft folds of her love.
As she rubbed me dry and whispered sweet words of love and encouragement in my ear, the feeling of being fourteen all but disappeared and it was wonderful returning to a part of my childhood where I was so valued, didn’t have to worry and my life was taken care of. Indeed, age seemed to have very little meaning because I’d been happily playing with kids of all ages and none of us cared. I suppose because we were all dressed roughly the same helped but it was just nice not having to worry what others might think or say. It just hadn’t mattered.
It was still only about six o’clock, there was still plenty of the day left but granny had already spread out my nightwear. It wasn’t all that different from what I’d been wearing all day so she just guided me over to the pile of stuff I was so getting used to and lay out. She took her time with the lotion, checking to make sure I hadn’t got any more of my body sunburnt before liberally smoothing it over my entire body. She had me roll over onto my tummy and took an equal amount of time making sure my back, neck and legs were all sufficiently coated. She even rubbed some into my bottom that had me giggling like a two year-old. Once that was done came the cloud of baby powder that she freely sprinkled everywhere, which set us both howling like hyenas.
A well stuffed fabric nappy was then tightly fastened in place, which reminded me of Ray-Ray’s and once again I couldn’t believe how granny knew so easily what I wanted. The pins were exactly the same and she smiled knowingly as I wriggled in total contentment when she finally slipped a new pair of thick white nursery print vinyl pants up my legs. I was both surprised and elated at this little extra because for some reason it had been another thing I’d desired from the moment I’d first laid eyes on them at the party.
Granny was brilliant she knew everything and made me feel like the luckiest person in the world to have her in my life. She finally eased a new white nightshirt over my head. If possible, and it was, the fabric was even softer and wrapped me in a fleecy hug I found overwhelming. The white fabric had the opening lines from nursery rhymes and cartoon representations of the subject and I found myself singing or saying them out loud to my audience of one.
The shirt was a lot shorter than normal and only came down to just over my hips, which meant that my matching protection was obviously on show. At first I wasn’t too sure I thought it looked very babyish but granny was full of praise, saying how nice and special it looked and that she’d had it made specifically for me. She hugged and rocked me in her arms and I could do nothing but respond with equal enthusiasm. Granny was the best, and, as the overpowering sensation of the new ultra-soft touch material caressed the upper part of my body, I could feel the nappy and pants embrace the lower in the same way.
It must have been because I’d had such a hectic day but suddenly I felt quite tired. I’d yawned and granny had asked if I was hungry or thirsty. I wasn’t starving because we’d been snacking all day but I wanted a drink and, ever attentive gran, put me to bed, pulled up the covers and then said she’d go and get me something whilst I rested.
The thing about granny’s bed is that it was incredibly comfortable. Once you sink into its soft mattress and slide under the sheets and blankets, it’s like you’re in your own personal cocoon. It may still have been early but I wallowed in the soft comforting bedding and its wonderful overwhelming welcome.
When gran returned I was almost asleep but she came and lay by my side and propped my head in her lap. I was only half aware that something was being pressed to my lips but that was enough for me to get the taste of warm strawberry milk. With no other thought than I wanted to drink I opened my mouth and a rubber nipple slipped in and before I really knew much about it, I was sucking and enjoying the fruity warm flavour and thoroughly enjoying the sweet experience.
All the time I suckled gran was hugging and humming the nursery rhymes that I’d been singing earlier. I reached under the covers and my hand gently slid across the bulging plastic pants, which also sent ripples of pleasure throughout my body. So that shudder of pleasure, together with the tasty treat I was slurping on, seemed to empty the bottle quickly. Once I’d finished I felt her kiss the top of my head and call me her ‘sweet little baby’ before I snuggled down deeper and drifted off.
The rest of my break at granny’s followed a similar pattern; either other kids came over to our house or I visited them at theirs and we played enthusiastically without a care in the world. Even though my outfit was now more baby-like, and my protection was always on show, it didn’t matter we all happily played together.
I vaguely remember waking up from a naptime and hearing Mr and Mrs Wilkinson talking to granny.
“… I know its more work but I do enjoy seeing them like this.”
Obviously I hadn’t caught the beginning of the conversation.
Ray-Ray and Bonnie were lying next to me on the blanket, both with dummies in their mouths and snoozing heavily. I had an empty baby’s bottle next to me but the teat was still resting between my lips.
“It’s a shame they have to go back to normal when its school time… they are far more trouble then.”
There was a murmur of agreement between the adults.
“This village is fantastic, everything about it is designed to encourage kids to be kids and enjoy life as a kid.”
It was Mr Wilkinson talking.
“No responsibilities, no worries… no growing up… even if it’s all just for a short while.”
“Better than never…” Mrs Wilkinson paused and then added, “and we get to have our babies back.”
Then I heard granny’s voice.
“I worry that my silly daughter and her equally silly husband will still be arguing instead of sorting out their problems.”
Her voice went softer.
“I hate to think of my poor little Sweet-pea having to put up with all that anxiety. Some time’s I wish I could just keep…”
There was a slight pause as Bonnie woke up and looked at her aunt.
“Auntie, I’m wet.”
“I know precious,” she replied. “We’ll get you all cleaned up when Ray-Ray wakes.”
Bonnie leant over to her brother and cheekily pulled the big blue dummy from his mouth. A string of drool accompanied it but it also woke him up.
One morning I woke up and granny suggested I have a bath, which of course I happily agreed to. This time there was no bubbles or fancy bath salts and the towel was draped over the peg on the bathroom door so I even had to dry myself. I ventured back into the bedroom and although granny wasn’t there my clothes were laid out on the bed ready for use. This time it was different.
Gone was my nappy and nightshirt and in their place were my other clothes; my jeans, jumper and underwear.
Granny called up the stairs.
“Hurry up sweetie, your mother will be picking you up in a short while and I don’t want to send you off without any breakfast.”
I’d forgotten that I’d have to return to school after my two week break and I really didn’t want to. My time with granny and the rest of the people in the village had been the best time of my life. I slipped into my underwear and it just didn’t seem right, I was missing that bulk but, as I was going home I suppose I couldn’t wear a nappy for that.
I sat at the kitchen table dressed pretty much as I’d arrived two weeks earlier. I slowly ate the bacon and eggs granny had cooked and her cheerful chat tried to keep my disappointment at bay. I didn’t want to leave but a new school term called and I couldn’t get out of it. I asked granny if it would be OK to come and visit her again during my next break, she said she’d like that a lot.
I gratefully sighed and smiled back at her – she was and is totally amazing.
There was a knock on the door and mum came in. She kissed gran and then kissed me and smiled at seeing me again.
“I’ve, er, we’ve missed having you around.” She ruffled my hair in a loving manner.
As I finished my breakfast granny and mum went into the conservatory to chat privately.
“OK sweetheart, we need to get an early start we have some shopping for new school clothes and I thought I’d treat you to a spot of lunch at the mall. Would you like that?”
I nodded semi-enthusiastically. I was going to miss granny but already I was forgetting why.
At the door I kissed granny goodbye and thanked her for having me.
“Anytime sweet-pea… there’s always a place for you here… whenever you need it.”
I slung my backpack onto the back seat of the car and climbed in beside mum in the front.
As we drove away a pang of… something… I wasn’t sure what rippled through my body.
When passed the sign that said WELCOME TO THURSWELL GREEN – children please drive carefully another shiver made me go quite rigid.
“Are you OK sweetheart?” Mum sounded concerned.
“Mmmm, yes, er, I think so… just sad to be leaving… “
Mum smiled and I was left wondering why exactly it was that I felt so depressed about leaving.
“Well, what have you been up to over the past fortnight?” Mum enquired.
“Oh, nothing much. Oh I did fall in the brook,” I smiled at the memory but then remembered something else. “Unfortunately it destroyed my Ipad.”
“Well that would explain why we hardly heard anything from you.”
I wasn’t sure if mum was thankful I’d not kept in touch or relieved but either way she made my day by saying that since we were going to be at the mall, perhaps we should get a new one. This booked me up no end and I was really pleased.
“Wow, thanks mum. I promise I’ll keep it safe.”
“What else have you been up to?”
“Oh nothing much.”
I really couldn’t remember much at all.
“Well as long as you got on well with granny.”
“Do you know she doesn’t have a TV… and… get this… doesn’t even miss it.”
Mum laughed in mock horror.
“So what on earth did you do to pass the time?”
“Mmmm, oh this and that, the weather was nice so I could get out and….”
I trailed off. I couldn’t remember much about anything I’d done.
Story is written by Les Lea
At this moment Michael de Vie is probably the most famous seventeen year-old in the world. His six number one records and two best-selling albums of the past two years have rocketed this sweet natured, blond-haired, blue-eyed, good-looking, talented young singer into mega-star status.
His two sell-out world tours were seen by an estimated audience of three million, whilst any magazine or newspaper that carries his photo or a story (true or false) has the same effect on its sales. There is no doubt about it, this nice young lad from the mid-West, is the most bankable piece of pop merchandise to come along for many years.
Not for Michael the pouting brat that has earmarked other young performers, nor the cavorting in semi-pornographic videos to promote each new song. No, Michael’s image is not only that of a clean-cut teenager but one who respects his peers, adults and the world in which he lives.
This is down to his family.
His interviews always site the influence of this very important part of his life. His mother Jean is his manager, his eldest sister Ba–Ba (Barbara) is the keyboard player and leader of his backing band (The Protectors), his middle sister Mu (Muriel) is his PA and his other sister JJ (Jean Junior) runs the fan-club. Mother Jean is a ‘no messing’ type of lady who knows what she wants and generally gets just that. All her daughters are older than her son who was the last of her litter separating the first and last by thirteen years.
The girls were all products of Jean’s husband George Clarkson, Michael was the off-spring of a drunken one night stand with someone Jean couldn’t remember having sex with. In fact, it wasn’t until she was almost five months pregnant that she realised what the result of that misguided sexual encounter had generated. The unplanned foetus growing in her womb had passed the abort stage, and, with no option, she eventually looked forward to the birth of her son. George Clarkson had died two years before that drunken night and Jean had been in grieving for quite some time before the ill-conceived romp took place. However, it was George’s name that appeared on the birth certificate and not the real father’s.
So, that drunken need for sex, though for some time appeared to be the stupidest thing to have happened, now appeared to be the best. The family, thanks to Michael’s all-encompassing talent and appeal, are sitting pretty on a fortune that their bastard son and sibling has generated.
However, it isn’t all down to Michael of course. No one could have achieved what he has done without superb management. His family were quick learners, smart at what they did and their talented brother was indebted to his family for the success he was now reaping.
The baby of the family was kept just that way. All decisions were taken by the women in his life; all he had to do was perform. Even when not on stage it was his family that surrounded him and they wanted to look after that asset by making sure no one else got a look in. Little Mikey (as he was affectionately known to his family) had to adhere to some very strict rules that had governed his life since he was a born: Do exactly as told, argue and a spanking follows, diapers to be worn at all times.
This last rule started as just a way to enforce the female domination of his life. However, Jean soon noticed how keeping her son in protection made him incredibly obedient and endearingly docile, so much so that now that sweet touch of childish purity was what made Little Mikey different. His stage clothes were solely for that because once the performance was over and the well-wishers had gone, one of the females took charge and returned Little Mikey to what he was, the baby of the family.
Ever since he was an infant, that’s how the family had treated him. Mainly his young life consisted of being bottle fed, plain food, diaper changes, early nights, cartoons on TV, bedroom and bedding covered in cute animals and the constant love and attention from his ever caring family. Once out of the spotlight his diaper was checked and changed, he was put in a onesie or footed pyjamas and told to go to sleep. Mikey didn’t complain, why would he he’d never known anything different?
As he grew up he was still kept in diapers and plastic pants “For your own protection” he was always told. Even at school, when his peers were moving into briefs and boxers he was wearing thick diapers under his school uniform. Once he returned home he was immediately changed out of that and into something deemed more suitable; cute romper pants or shorts. This regime was easy to maintain because since he was a babe in his mother’s arms all his sisters loved dressing him up. No sooner had one got him dressed to her satisfaction, than one of the others had a different idea and he would be stripped where ever he was, powdered, changed and slipped into something equally sweet but undeniably babyish. This continues to this day and Michael appears quite content with the situation, well, at least he’s never complained.
His connection with anyone outside of his family is fleeting and supervised. Fans say ‘Hello’, want photographs, scream for him and at him but they only got near him when he’s on stage. Once he’s left the ‘performance’ area (as his family called it) he is theirs and the public are not allowed into that intimate and very private inner-sanctum. Little Mikey feels he’s special but not because of his undeniable talent but the love and attention of his family who do everything for him.
Michael had won a local TV talent show when he was ten. The song he sung was a self-penned little tune about his love for a cat. He never mentioned the word cat in it so it sounded just like a love song and people adored it. For a short time the local press hailed this ‘Small Town Boy’ as the next big thing. Alas, his fame never spread beyond the county although, from then on, people loved his voice and he was in demand for regional concerts and state fairs. The young singer/songwriter performed anywhere and everywhere under the watchful eye of his mother. From the family home she directed his burgeoning career and made sure at all times he had at least two of his family present. She also took the opportunity to home-school him, especially as demand for his shows was increasing and travelling meant he couldn’t attend a regular class. As he grew up and was influenced more and more by things, stories and people around him, his song writing got stronger and stronger.
However, Jean wanted to keep her boy just that, a boy. She didn’t want him in a rush to grow up and saw that his appeal was down to his childlike looks, unsophisticated attitude and general sweet demeanour. He was so unlike anyone else performing at the time; ‘innocence’ was not what the public wanted, or so it thought. However, a spot on national TV raised his profile and his self-penned and self-released single “Too Good” was an instant success on download, which in turn grabbed the attention of the big record companies. Michael was still only fourteen when it went on general release. Accompanied by a video which showed him working on a farm in a pair of dirty shorts and ripped t-shirt surrounded by loads of cute animals, proved a clever move and the public loved it. YouTube went berserk and suddenly he had a massive hit on his hands. Despite loads of tempting offers from International agencies, it was his mother’s planning and strict supervision that made it all work. She took complete command and steered her young son’s career to the success it is now.
He’s happy in the care of his family; the regular diaper changing and dressing up only reinforces that bond. He’s never worn anything but a diaper so other types of underwear for a boy have never been offered. He’s reasonably potty trained but is just as happy to use his diaper as use the bathroom and certainly it doesn’t seem the most important thing to change that dynamic. His mother, when thinking it all through, decided that part of her sons appeal is his naivety. She is of the opinion that wearing diapers and depending on them, gives him an unconscious vulnerability that people find very appealing. Not that they planned on telling anyone. In fact, it is a family secret, which they are all involved in maintaining and all take a share in the responsibility of keeping Michael clean, dry and well padded.
Now here’s a little fact; when his sister put together his backing band for tours, she picked all-female musicians and named them ‘The Protectors’ in recognition of her brother’s dependency on diapers. Clever eh?
There is purity to Michael’s voice that a studio doesn’t need to fix or mix with electronic gadgets and that had an appeal right across the board; kids and adults love him. Most boys his age hated him for his success but that still didn’t stop his first ‘star’ calendar selling millions and featuring on as many boys’ bedroom walls as it did girls.
In interviews he never tries to be clever. If the journalist or TV personality tries to ask him an embarrassing question he is simply embarrassed; he giggles, shakes his head and states publicly he didn’t have an answer. More often than not it goes in his favour; the public like his honesty, they like his unworldliness, they like him. Jean is not immune to overprotecting her baby boy and if she is crossed or thought that the questioning has been too intrusive, she happily confronts the perpetrator and takes them to task, often very publicly. Her fierce defence of her boy is seen as a positive by the public but hated by the media who see no limit to how insensitive they can be. The fact that they can’t find any dirt or humiliating little secret on this ‘little goody-goody’ is driving them nuts. They print lies and then, in huge headlines say that “… they refused to deny…” such and such. It sold newspapers and magazines but a photo shoot, organised by Jean, of her clean-cut boy, loving his family and actually helping out on a farm for injured animals, proved a better selling point.
However, just before Michael’s eighteenth birthday, Jean got wind that there was going to be a photo expose. The photographer on one shoot had caught Michael bending over and his diaper was clearly visible. There were several images that made the evidence irrefutable and the photographer had sold them to the highest bidder and raked in an absolute fortune for himself. The story was scheduled to run in the biggest circulating Sunday newspaper in the world so Jean, ever on the ball, decided to do a couple of things. First was not to deny or comment on it, the second was to quickly tie up a deal with a maker of teenage diapers.
De Vie Diapers; colourful, absorbent, fashionable.
Every photo and video that had ever featured Michael suddenly was doctored and had him wearing diapers. Some got very close to the type and style he actually wore but in general, they just wanted to humiliate him… but it didn’t. The more they pushed the diapers angle the more the YouTube clips were viewed. The brighter the diapers and frilly the plastic pants, the more hits and ‘Likes’ the image received. Suddenly, diapers were everywhere and embraced by a huge section of the youthful populace.
Yes, the hoped for backlash didn’t happen, instead fans bought diapers and pull-ups and wore them to his concerts. Those who had to wear them were suddenly released from their guilt. Letter after letter, interview after interview, were all supportive and damning of the shady and sensationalistic way the newspaper had treated the subject, which in turn led to a campaign so virulent that it cost them half their readership. Michael De Vie and his diapers were everywhere. Kids were wearing them in the street as a fashion statement and the headlines around the world were – DE VIE’S DIAPERMANIA.
Jean simply refused to enter into any conversation about why he still wore diapers and this led to a mass of speculation in the press. Late night TV programmes brought in ABDLs, as well as those who actually wore them for medical reasons, to discuss the pros and cons of this phenomenon. Of course everyone wanted to hear from Michael himself but, as he couldn’t see what all the fuss was about, he never made any statement or participated in a debate on the subject. Jean thought that his face on the diaper packaging and his latest single ‘Hug Me’ (his 7th Number One) was enough involvement for her son. He quite liked the fact that he now had an array of colourful printed animals on his diapers (Jean had been keen to direct the profits into an animal charity) and continued to wear them with all the special diaper covers that companies sent him for approval in the hope of adding his name as a sponsor.
Pretty soon he was engulfed in hundreds of such items; ruffles, lace, frills, silk, satin, plastic, rubber, you name a material, he received something made in it. Little Mikey loved these new additions to his wardrobe and, as long as it fit over his diapers, he wore with pride simply because he’d never known anything else. His mother and sisters took great pleasure in keeping their baby boy dry, clean and happy, while he in turn loved the tight loving hug his protection, and protectors, constantly gave him.
Story is written by Les