Mores news and information about the PeekABU and Simple Ultra

This sure show that they have made some good change when it comes to the potion on the diaper change. Wounder how different it going to feel to wear now whit this change?

Maybe i decide to find out someday :) I dont wear ABUniverse that match because of the expensive price. But someday i need to check out this PeekABu diaper.

DryDayz One Tape Each Side

DryDayz

  • Plain white with a pale blue wetness indiator.
  • One large fastening tape each side.
  • Clear frontal panel / landing area.
  • Highly Absorbent.
  • Super Soft feel.
  • Standing leg cuffs to help prevent leaks.
  • Plastic Backed.

The pack of 2 should fit through most letterboxes and all parcels are delivered in plain packaging.

Available in the following pack sizes – Best Value being the box of 60.

  • Pack of 2
  • Pack of 10
  • Pack of 20
  • Pack of 40
  • Box of 60

You find there new diaper here: https://www.cuddlz.com/adult-nappies-diapers/

Looks like a interesting new diaper here :) And i am not surprise if they going to lunch a printed version lather on.

Mores news and information about the PeekABU and Simple Ultra

Seems like ABUniverse forgot to mention some more improvements that they have done to the PeekABU and Simple Ultra diaper. Good thing they have a Twitter so they dont need to send out another Newsletter about this information.

Auntie Joan Part 9

This story is written by Les Lea

The night before school my mind had been working overtime. All I could think (and partially dream) about was my life at the different ‘educational’ establishments I’d attended since I was young. Alas, as I tossed and turned with each invading reflection, the thick night time diaper that held me tightly didn’t offer the soft comfort I’d come to expect.

#

At three years old I had been potty trained by my mother and then, with her part in my development done, sent off into the world. At that first ‘nursery/crèche/kindergarten’, I have no idea what it was, but what I did eventually get to know was that I was away from my ‘loving’ mommy and daddy and not a happy child. My first and main recollection from that time was that I wet myself constantly. The people looking after me seemed to focus on the fact I was wetting rather than the why and so kept me in diapers the entire time I was there.
In between brief visits from my parents, after which I would cry for days, I was kept clean and fed but for me, and the other toddlers (I was not alone), each day followed the same timetable; a diet of dynamic learning, followed by unhappiness, followed by more learning. If we played at all… that particular memory escapes me… but that austere and unloving place literally scared the shit out of me. As if to prove it, my potty training reversed and my diaper was constantly full.

#

In those half-dreams and fevered recollections I could still feel that dense rough diaper irritating with each movement. Together with the noisy crack of the thick, almost unyielding plastic pants that held it in place felt like I was encased in granite.
I wriggled unhappily under my nursery print covers, thankful at least auntie always made sure my protection was soft and comfortable, though, because of my agitated dreams, at that moment I wasn’t particularly enjoying such consideration.

#

When I reached the age of five I was moved to another private school. It took pride in the fact its ‘student’ body was prepared for senior school and so, ‘education, education, education’ was its main (and I would say only) priority. Here at least I wasn’t kept in scratchy diapers, which to some degree I eventually grew out of with just an occasional nocturnal lapse. However, the school wasn’t equipped for these little lapses and I (like anyone else who suffered a wet night) was ridiculed and ostracised and made to wear protection in class for the entire following day. The other kids never let such an opportunity pass so I was fair game for any grade to mock and be made fun of. By the time I was approaching my tenth birthday I’d learned to hide any toiletry hiccups so to all intents and purposes I’d grown out of that ‘problem’. At the same time my abilities were recognised when academically at least I easily came top of the class.
This was when my parents broke the news that I was to sit another exam in the UK to further my education. Stupidly I assumed they would be in England too, it wasn’t to be.

#

These dreams, thoughts and often unpleasant images raced through my active brain whether I was asleep or awake and by morning I was severely wet and half dead to the world.

#

The morning wasn’t helped after auntie stripped me out of my soaked protection but, after a shower, the ritual I so looked forward to was denied. Not that auntie would do anything to upset me but, this was a new opportunity that I was encouraged to take. So, no lotions or powders or soft fluffy disposable taped snugly into place. No slinky vinyl slowly fed up my legs, slipping deliciously over my thighs to grip my waist in a welcoming manner. The nursery held the clothes I wanted but the clothes I was to wear were in the ‘other room’ and I had to fortify myself from that moment – I had to get back into teenage mode.

Of course auntie had laid out my wardrobe for the day; right on top was a little pair of pull-ups that we’d spoken about. She knew I was a bit nervous about staying dry so we agreed to this little ‘help’ to be worn under my underpants. It wasn’t the same but their slight rustle and full crotch was most welcome under the rest of my school clothes.

#

I caught the bus to school like so many other kids and, apart from one or two who knew me and were whispering, looking and giggling in my direction, the journey passed off without much to report.
I’d entered the school grounds with a slight crinkle and a great deal of apprehension. I saw Yoosuf talking to a group of girls, waved and then looked around for the familiar face of Oliver but couldn’t see him.

#

There was no set ‘uniform’, social or educational, and everyone appeared to be wearing what they liked. I’d chosen a pair of fawn coloured chinos over my slight protection, a green polo shirt, trainers and had my backpack slung over one shoulder… I thought I blended in quite well. Not overly smart but not slovenly either. There were several boys wearing shorts, but nearly all wore them long and baggy so definitely not my style. The girls were a completely different story and seemed to form into groups who all dressed the same. However, that was just a first impression as I gazed around at my new school buddies. Then I spied a familiar face coming through a group of noisy students who were standing at the gate.

#

He was nodding to everyone, even folk I suspect he didn’t know, but when our eyes met he waved and made straight towards me. The thing was I was spellbound. He was wearing a pair of khaki shorts and an AC/DC t-shirt… it was a young Colin come to life from one of the images in auntie’s photo album.
Stunned by this apparition I couldn’t move. I wanted to say something, I wanted to greet my friend, I wanted to acknowledge, well, I wasn’t sure what – because for that one shocking moment Oliver looked exactly like Colin, the only difference from the photo was the logo on the t-shirt.
He came up and hugged me like a long lost friend and I was so overcome, my bladder gave way and I pissed my pants. Not just a little, but a flow so strong that it deluged my pull-up and a tell-tale stain radiated from my groin.
If it hadn’t been for Oliver’s quick action the first impression I would have made at school was as a pants wetter.

#

He was surprised that I didn’t reciprocate the hug but when he pulled back he noticed my pants. Quick as a flash, and before anyone else could see, he pulled off his backpack and held it in front of my rapidly expanding stain. To be honest, I wasn’t really aware of what I’d done and it wasn’t until Oliver was guiding me towards the main building that I realised what had happened. The spreading damp radiating from my groin was not the nicely warming experience it would have been in a diaper.
I was full of apologies but Oli just smiled and said, “Wow, nobody’s ever been that pleased to see me.”
He seemed to know his way around the school and we ended up at the nurse’s office. She came out to see who her first patient of the day was and, as the bell had just gone, dismissed Oli back to

class. I sat there trying to explain how I was taken by surprise by his enthusiastic hug but the nurse, Nurse Jefferson, wasn’t convinced.
She noticed something that no one else had mentioned. She said that I spoke like a little boy. Well, to be honest, she didn’t say that exactly but the way she responded to my words left me in no doubt. I hadn’t realised that my speech had been so defined by my time at Rainbow and I suppose, those who knew me, especially auntie, just thought that’s the way I spoke. It hadn’t bothered me until Nurse Jefferson mentioned it but now I was at High School, with wet pants and sounding like a baby… things definitely needed to change.

#

My pants were a mess and there was no way I could walk around school looking like I did. She spoke to someone on the phone, who I assumed was the principal, checked something on her computer and then phoned auntie. My pull-up hadn’t been as efficient as hoped and I could see Nurse Jefferson wondering what action to take.
Before she had chance to come to any conclusion the phone rang and she was obviously receiving further information as she kept looking up at me and agreeing to what was being said down the phone.
“Oh I see.” She listened
“Right.” There was more.

“Well that explains…” Something was said and agreed upon.
She eventually wandered over and asked in a soft cajoling whisper you’d use with an infant if I needed any help and did I want a change.
I was taken by surprise at her suggestion, and even though at that particular moment I would have loved a change, the thought of a fluffy disposable hugging my groin making me wriggle in anticipation, I said “No”. I didn’t want it to get around that on my first day I’d wet my pants, had to see the nurse and she’d diapered me. I needed to keep that a secret for a while longer… or so I thought.

#

Not long after auntie arrived with a bag of dry clothes but before I could change we were called into the principal’s office. He seemed a nice man but was obviously a little perplexed at what he was reading; it was a report from the psychiatrist.
I’d not thought this far ahead and for the second time that day I was shocked, with the result that, unfortunately, I wet myself even more. This was not going well and I couldn’t fathom where all this pee was coming from. As the dark stain on my chinos spread further the principal noticed and requested I immediately go and see the nurse while he and auntie talked.
Auntie passed me the bag with my clean clothes and I reluctantly left the room clutching it tightly to my groin for the few yards journey to the nurse’s office.

#

When I arrived she was very business-like.
“Right, let’s get you organised and into something dry shall we?”
I knew I looked like a stupid little kid, which of course I normally didn’t mind, but confronted by this particular lady, I felt feeble and inadequate. The folk at Rainbow just changed me like they would any other infant but here, at High School, I was no longer a happy, playful toddler but a teenage student who’d wet his pants.
“Take off your pants,” she paused, “or would you prefer I do it?”
There was no malice in her voice just a question.

Since I’d been with auntie I was used to doing as instructed so slowly unbuttoned the top of my chinos and let them drop to the floor.
She could see the expanded pull-up bulging out behind my underpants and indicated they needed to come off as well.
Standing there in my soggy pull-up and stained underpants it just didn’t feel real. I hadn’t been wearing any extra plastic protection so my pee had not been well contained. Being changed at Rainbow (or at home) was a process I wasn’t involved in, somebody else made the decision and it just happened. My involvement was…
She pulled the squelchy mass down.

“OK Dean, I’m going to clean you up, then rub in some lotion, powder and fit a diaper… any questions?”
I just shrugged. I was in a sort of dream world, which I knew I liked but at that moment found particularly alien.

#

She had me lie out on a low table, which I wasn’t sure could support my weight but, as she’d covered the entire thing in a loose piece of blue absorbent paper (I’d seen something similar on the doctor’s examination table), I did as I was told.
“Good boy,” she said as I climbed up, my naked lower half reacting to the cool air conditioning of her office.
“Now I’ll just check the bag and see what mommy, er, Miss Marsden has brought.”
Jeans, a clean shirt, socks and a fresh pair of boxers were laid out on another table, eventually she found what she was searching for, a fresh disposable.
“Ah, here we go.”

She slowly and meticulously unfurled it and slipped it under my bottom. There was a look of understanding on her face and it suddenly struck me that she might know of my parent’s dramatic death and was being sympathetic. She then reached for some wipes, lotion and powder, which she conscientiously applied to my hair-free pubic area before fastening me in.
I’m not sure how many fourteen year-old boys she’d had to diaper in her time as a nurse but as she cleaned me up I thought she smiled and nodded approval at my a/c shrunken pee-pee and hairless genital area.

“Mmmm sensible… and no sign of a rash… good, good.” She said half to herself and half to me.
She smoothed in the lotion and my pee-pee began to react but, like the ladies at Rainbow, it was completely ignored as she pulled the disposable into place. Any raging hormones that a healthy teenage boy might have were dismissed as I was really just a ‘little boy’ so treated as such.
Once I was tightly enclosed she delved into the bag once more and found a pair of opaque plastic pants, which she shuffled up my legs. She did it all with such care that I found myself relaxing and beginning to enjoy her attention. After that was completed she had me sit up and checked that everything fitted correctly; smoothing the plastic pants down over the diaper and making sure I was well tucked in and leak-proof.

#

She stood back to appreciate her work and smiled. Whether that was because of a job well done or the fact that my slinky plastic pants could be seen dangling below my polo shirt I wasn’t too sure.
“OK Dean,” she seemed satisfied, “put the rest of your clothes back on and put the wet stuff in this plastic bag.”
She indicated a black bin bag on another table.
“Sit over there and wait until the principal and your mommy, er, Miss Marsden finish their conversation.”
Perhaps she wasn’t being sympathetic about the death of my parents, maybe she thought she was dealing with a teenager who was somewhat ‘challenged’. She spoke to me as if I was slow, or a toddler and I moved from enjoying the process to resenting it a bit.
Although I was happier now I was padded and protected I wondered about how late I was for my first class. What excuse could I come up with? What did anyone know? Had anyone noticed? What, if anything, has Oliver said? Perhaps more importantly, would anyone notice my padded butt?
“Don’t I need to be in class?” I queried.
“Yes you do but the principal will need to have a word before you go.”
“Ohhh.”

#

Ten minutes later and auntie emerged from the principal’s office looking worried.
“Are you OK sweetie?” She was concerned about me.
I nodded and looked down at my padded crotch and shrugged.
Nurse Jefferson smiled and said that I’d been a very co-operative boy and that everything had been taken care of and, if the principal had finished with me, I needed to get to class.
There was a slight rustling sound as I got to my feet and auntie hugged me and patted my cushioned bottom. She rubbed it slightly and I felt most reassured by both the padding and auntie’s tender touch.

She looked at me and said we’d talk when I got home. I was a bit apprehensive as it looked like she had something serious to say but getting to my new class was made a priority as the principal’s secretary came out with a note I had to give to the teacher.

#

“Sorry I’m late sir,” I handed Mr Brown the note, “I’m afraid I had to see the principal first…”
I wanted to say more, to come up with a plausible excuse but he just nodded to a seat next to Oliver and thanked me for being polite.
I hadn’t realised I had been but I suppose, even after all this time, the manners and attitude of an English private school, had some effect.
A chorus of derision from a few of the students followed Mr Brown’s compliment, which thankfully drowned out the rustling noise my protection made as I sat down. Oli was all smiles as he passed me a photocopied timetable list of subjects and extra-curricular activities and again I got the impression he completely understood.

#

After such a god awful start to the day I have to say, it got better. When I say it got better, I mean nobody noticed, or if they did they didn’t say anything, so from then on, for me it was a pretty good first day.

Now I was over my initial shock of seeing Oliver/Colin I realised that they weren’t all that alike after all although they were dressed similarly. I have to say Oli looked great in his shorts, his young blond hairy legs showed he was maturing way faster than I was. In fact, because of the special lotion auntie used at bath time, all my bodily hair had vanished. Next to Oli I looked like a little immature five year-old but it didn’t seem to worry him and we spent most of the day in each other’s company.
Motioning towards his t-shirt I asked him if he was a fan of AC/DC. He just shrugged and said he liked the logo but had to admit he wasn’t keen on their music although his father was a huge fan. He confessed that he, his brother and sister grew up in a house that was filled with rock music. Even as a baby he fell asleep to the riffs of Motorhead, AC/DC and most heavy metal bands his dad played all the time. Apparently his parents had met at a rock festival in their home town and he was a result of that first drug-fuelled night of metal debauchery. Thankfully his mom and dad were “really into each other” (his words) so they married two months before he was born.
He was very enthusiastic about his parents saying that they’d never had two dimes to rub together but both worked hard and brought up him, his younger brother and sister, pretty well.

#

It was great for me to hear somebody who actually liked his parents and not only that was vocal about it. On that first day I learned so much about Oliver but every time he asked about my life I slunk into babbling and avoiding the subject apart from telling him I now lived with my auntie and that I’d moved from DC. Not quite AC/DC but halfway there, I pathetically joked!
I simply wasn’t sure what to tell him. I doubted he’d be interested in hearing about life at a private school in England, I was positive he wouldn’t want to know about my ‘super important’ parents and I definitely wasn’t sure I could share my diaper wearing ways with him. Because he hadn’t mentioned it I assumed he didn’t know, or hadn’t noticed, the bulkiness in my jeans. However, just as I was boarding my bus he patted my bottom and smiled.
“Perhaps tomorrow you’ll tell me about this?”
I was stunned but his effortless grin said I should trust him… and why wouldn’t I? So far he’d saved me from total embarrassment and he’d appeared to have kept my secret. So, my journey home was filled with thoughts about just what I wanted to explain the following day… and did I in fact want to share any of this information?

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 8

And here’s me crinkling – noni_kitten

Someone sure have ended up whit one squishy heavy diaper between here legs. Its kind of amazing that it manage to still keep here dry.

But maybe time to start thinking about changing that soggy heavy diaper.

Auntie Joan Part 8

This story is written by Les Lea

Auntie wanted me to try sleeping in the ‘other room’ with all the grown up stuff and sensible covers. This was her idea of ‘baby steps’ (I’m sure she used those words on purpose to get me to go along with it all) to feel able to identify with being fourteen. She wanted me to try not wetting during the day (although I was allowed to wear protection to sleep in), and get used, all over again, to wear ‘big boy’ underwear and to take a tinkle in a toilet. She didn’t want the kids at my new school to be able to torment me over something that I’d mastered many years ago but at that moment found a strange thing to contemplate… a diaper took care of those ‘where and when’ peeing-pressures.

However, auntie needed me to at least try and so I did.

For a few weeks prior to my return to teenage education I wore my briefs during the day and didn’t attend Rainbow quite so often. She wanted me to do what other kids my age did in their summer break and wander around the mall, go to the local pool, etc. etc. Sometimes we went together; sometimes I was on my own. I didn’t panic when alone but on a couple of occasions I saw a damp patch appear on my chinos shorts (when I went out I’d wear sensible length shorts as opposed to the short short style I preferred as a toddler)before I realised I needed to get to a bathroom. Still, I was doing what auntie asked and as a result felt slightly more confident (although confident isn’t exactly the correct word here) about the fast approaching first day of term.

#

Even though at school in the UK I was surrounded by other boys my age and we were forced into taking part in sports and extra-curricular activities together, I somehow contrived to keep myself to myself. As I say, the teachers disapproved of my independence and as far as they were concerned team work and team spirit were at the heart of a good school and an ‘included’ set of students. This didn’t suit me. I fought in my own ‘loner-ish’ way to be myself and rejected the school’s mandatory ‘all for one’ philosophy.

#

Now I was fourteen, and because auntie wanted me to be a happy teenager at my new school, we chatted more and more about my time in the UK. She listened politely whist I raged about how stupid it all was (and not just the uniform). However, I found as I explained to auntie the worst excesses of my schoolboy life that I had to admit I did learn a lot. My grades were high and despite everything I was a good student. The teachers were pretty good and were never condescending. If you had a problem or didn’t understand something, they took the time to discuss and eventually sort whatever it was out. I found it difficult to admit to the school’s positives so fell back to why I disliked the place so much.

I hated the crowned princes, the bastard children of Russian oligarchs, minor royals, foreign dignitary’s brattish kids, the privileged and the self-important… not once did I associate myself as being one of them.

It was only when auntie gently pointed out that because of my parent’s ‘political’ influence, their importance to the country and their desire for me to have the best education money could buy, is why I was there in the first place.

I have to say auntie’s grasp on my life was so much better than my own. She wasn’t saying I should be grateful, what she was saying was that the people I reviled were also there because of their family connections and influence, so at that level, we were no different.

We were having this discussion on a lovely sunny Sunday afternoon out in the garden; she in a very summery, flowery dress and me, enjoying the sun, naked apart from a pair of khaki cotton shorts (yes again influenced by Gordon and Colin’s photographs) and briefs. It’s a strange feeling when a point of view you’ve held as a plus point to your existence unravels and the folly of your behaviour becomes overwhelming.

This simple revelation made an impact. The idea I was actually no different from those other privileged pupils in the UK really hit home.
As always, auntie was mild in her reasoning, allowing me to come to my own conclusions in my own time. However, the shock that rippled through my body as I arrived at this mind-altering deduction was most dramatic. I filled my diaper, except I wasn’t wearing one so, I wet myself and at the same time broke down into the most dreadful lamentation.

I shuddered at my own foolishness; I’d been a stupid, self-absorbed kid all my life. Here I was thinking I was being self-sufficient, original, even a rebel but it was a lie. I hadn’t seen or taken advantage of any of the benefits I could have had. I’d been blind to opportunities, no wonder the teachers despaired at my attitude. I was a rebel without reason and cried for my wasted life, one that I now recognised I‘d imposed on myself. My parents weren’t the ones to blame; I’d made my life an awful experience through my own efforts.
I was in torment, what had I done? Panic gripped my body and tears flowed for quite some time.

#

Auntie hugged and consoled me but such sudden uncontrolled emotions meant I was completely out of control. Since I’d been with auntie I hadn’t had to face up to anything even remotely ‘grown up’ until the psychiatrist (and look how that went). I’d eagerly become her ‘good little boy’ but this revelation was just too much. I’d blamed my parents for depriving me of a happy childhood but in fact, I manged to engineer that on my own. I was a teenage boy and I’d just discovered something about myself that not only shocked but had reduced me to a blubbering baby in wet pants. I may have enjoyed playing the ‘little boy’ but the truth was I really felt lost and more in need of an adult’s guidance than I’d ever done before.
She rocked me gently in her arms and patted my soggy bottom and hugged my naked chest to her sweetly warm perfumed breast.
Once my sobbing had died down and I began to think more clearly she let me out of her embrace and I sat at her feet as she stroked her fingers through my hair.
“I suppose I’m going to have to grow up.” I said as much to myself as I did to auntie.
Her fingers stopped their stroking for a brief second whilst she thought.

“You are grown up sweet-heart. We can’t deny that and certainly the education department won’t let you but, and this is the main thing about my sweet little Doddle…”
She’d been lovingly calling me that since I’d explained the nickname back in the UK. Although when she said it there was always a twinkle in her eye as well as love in her voice and it made me a simpering, shy kiddie who’d just wanted to please her.
Her hand began stroking my head again and I felt the tenderness in those finger tips.
“You are in school for around 35 hours a week, what you choose to do with the rest of the 133 hours is entirely up to you.”
No doubt she could feel my brain thinking through my skull.
“I like my little boy,” she ruffled my hair, “I like my big boy as well… so no matter which he wants to be, I think that’s who he should be.”
There was a certain wistfulness to her voice as she added.
“Despite how you now feel… and I’m sure confusion is pretty high on that list… you need that connection to the nursery. You may not need it all the time, or for much longer but…” and her voice faltered slightly, “you do need it.”
I let out a huge sigh because I knew auntie was correct.
Without her teaching me, in the most wonderful way, to appreciate people (and toddlers are people too), how to interact, how to have fun and take pleasure in that fun. How to be social and not antisocial, how to enjoy simple pleasures and re-evaluate in the simplest terms all that has gone before… I would have carried around a sack full of unwarranted hate and animosity for ever.
The new location, the diapers and without doubt the unconditional love meant she’d stripped me right back to help with a new start.
I looked down at my pants and saw the huge dark wet stain almost obliterating the dry khaki colour and really wished I’d worn a diaper. As if auntie really needed me to explain and point out my accident I indicated the soaked pants.
“I’m not sure being a ‘big boy’ is going to be a success.”
She shrugged her shoulder slightly.
“So, what would my sweet wet boy want to happen next?”
I was quite embarrassed that my emotions had led me to cause such a flow.
“I don’t think I’m quite ready to be a big boy… mmm… perhaps I should be your good little boy for a while longer?” I queried hopefully.
She smiled and held out her hand.
“Maybe I should make sure my sweet boy is well protected for the rest of the day at least.”

#

We toddled off upstairs to the nursery where auntie stripped me out of my wet things. She held up my white CK trunks that looked positively yellow and shook her head. Meanwhile, I lay there happily sucking on my dummy as she cleaned up and slipped a particularly well stuffed, thick fabric diaper under my butt. She pinned it tightly into position before sliding a pair of crinkly clear plastic pants over the bulbous, though strangely comforting object. I was back to being what I wanted to be and wriggled in my own delight. All thoughts of school and my past mistakes fled at the same time as auntie took away the sodden khaki shorts and wet undies to be washed.
I wished my messy thoughts could be similarly dumped in a machine and come out all fresh and clean. Alas, I had to sort this out for myself and hope that I could maintain some kind of balance in future.
It was going to be a struggle on both our parts.

#

I appreciated auntie knew best and that I wouldn’t be able to stay a kid for ever but I can’t tell you, now I’d realised my past mistakes, how scared I was of starting at a new school all over again. I lay in bed comfortable in my protection, my hand gently rubbing the slippery surface of my billowing plastic pants but my thoughts definitely on the future. With dummy in mouth and hugging my teddy bear I hoped I’d could come up with some kind of solution to all this. The problem I had – mentally, where I was at that moment made me extremely happy. I didn’t want to change but change I knew was necessary.

You’d think being a loner for all this time meant I would have no problem because having no friends wouldn’t bother me… except now things had changed. I would do anything for auntie. I had responsibilities, daft as that sounds, I had responsibilities not to make auntie’s life difficult. We’d already seen how complicated it could get if psychiatrists and the education department decided to become more involved. I needed to find something that would keep my younger and older selves happy, or if not happy, at least functioning at an acceptable level.

#

Throughout the long school summer break auntie tried to get me to socialise with people my real age. There were a few 8th, 9th and 10th graders living nearby and she hoped that I might mix but they had seen me around and thought, because of the way I dressed, I was some kind of weirdo, so didn’t appear all that keen to have anything to do with me.
I have to say, this suited me fine but knew it shouldn’t, I had to make the effort for auntie.
The Rainbow Rooms Nursery stayed open for most of the lengthy summer school break and was packed with the young children of some very appreciative parents. I think, if they could, those fraught moms and dads would have loved to be able to dump their teenage kids there as well. I felt fortunate in being allowed to be part of this fun-loving, ego-less, noisy and un-patronising family of playful toddlers.
Auntie had a saying: “Those things you learn without joy you will easily forget.”
I had to admit, I’d learned a great deal from those kids.

#

Meanwhile, there’d been an open day for new students to have a look around the High School and auntie and I were able to chat with the principal and some of the teachers who were there to placate any fears or reservations newcomers might have. Most of the new arrivals were kids younger than me but there were two other boys my age also relocating and starting 9th grade at this place. Auntie made sure I spoke to them so that I (and they) would have at least a couple of people we knew on that scary first day.

#

Yoosuf was born three days after my birthday, came from Florida, although his grandparents were originally from Iran (left during the purge) and looked and acted like a little prince. His dark hair and huge dark eyes just drew you in and I would bet that he’d be pursued around campus by most of the girls his age. Just from the elegant way he looked I knew he must have come from a family with money but, if that was the case, why was he enrolling at the local High School and not at some private academy? No doubt all would be revealed over the coming term… then I thought of my own predicament and would I want to explain the death of my parents to anyone? I shivered at the thought that his story might be similar to my own.

There was nearly two months difference in mine and Oliver’s birthday and he was most definitely from a very poor background. His clothes were mismatched and old but he had a smile that would win him many friends. He was upbeat and positive about this new school and I found it quite endearing that he should go out of his way to make me feel included.

There was something about Oliver that I just couldn’t put my finger on. I felt an immediate rapport. He was both shy and yet confident. No, let me try that again. He looked shy. His long eyelashes, sandy blond hair and almost girlie features made him look like he needed the protection of others. However, when he spoke, and the way he acted, he was full of confidence about himself and his laugh was genuine and infectious. I liked him a lot.

Despite there being an obvious ‘class’ gap between him and Yoosuf, he wanted to be friends with everyone and his enthusiasm was irresistible. Yoosuf appeared as enamoured of Oliver as I was and it didn’t take too long before we were chatting about our favourite music and TV shows.

#

The first day of school was looming and I’d spent the last few days preparing myself for this occasion. Despite auntie encouraging me to sleep in the ‘other room’ I didn’t feel confident of not having a wet night. She’d said I could wear protection to bed if that helped but I just felt happier if I slept in the nursery surrounded by my stuffed animals and changing table. I’d become accustomed to seeing my plastic pants and piles of diapers before I fell asleep and they made me feel safe. I tried not to pee during the night but that was proving difficult as I woke up every morning with a soaked diaper.

However, there was some improvement. I was using the toilet during the day with very few ‘accidents’, which, with help from a pull-up I wore under my briefs, soaked up any dribbles. I don’t think anyone could tell I was wearing any form of padding under my chinos so hoped that would solve at least part of that problem.
I did miss the morning ritual that auntie had developed of me being diapered and put into a slinky pair of shiny plastic pants. That first view in a morning of a pristine diaper swathed in slick vinyl always made me feel terrific and ready for the day. I tried to get that same ‘rush’ when I pulled up my pull-up but it just wasn’t there, nevertheless I was grateful for this helpful padding.
I had to start thinking as a fourteen year-old and not as a needy toddler but wasn’t sure if I could pull it off.

Regardless of auntie’s attempts to make that transition un-traumatic, that first day at school proved to be a disaster as I sat in the nurse’s office, in my soaked pants, waiting for her to come and get me.

This story is written by Les Lea

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Chapter 7

Chapter 9

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