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

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 7

Chapter 9

Auntie Joan Part 7

This story is written by Les Lea

The prospect of losing my status as auntie’s little boy was more than I could bear. She consoled me as I wept long after our visitors had departed. Her reassuring words lost as all I could hear were my own heartfelt sobs.

Although my return to a lively teenager wasn’t planned to happen for a couple of months I’d really got into being a little boy with no thoughts other than to play and please auntie. Of course auntie had been as good as her word and had bought me a suit like the ones Gordon and Colin had worn in their photograph. I know it may sound strange but the fact that I was dressed like Colin when he was eight (even though I’m a lot taller than he was) and wearing a nappy underneath those shorts, pleased me no end.
I looked so dapper and I have to say, absolutely no other kids, anywhere we went, were wearing anything even resembling what I was dressed in. I got many looks, some nods of approval from older citizens and some anything but, however, I may have looked like I should be in elementary school but inside I still felt like a toddler desperately playing at looking grown up (and of course to a toddler anyone over eight looks grown up).

Meanwhile, the elastic on my plastic pants, just an inch from the hem of my short shorts (which no doubt could be noticed by anyone who showed an interest), gripped the top of my leg tightly, holding my disposable in place and keeping my desired juvenile experience going. Auntie was all praise. She thought I’d chosen the outfit well and that I looked the handsomest, most stylish boy around and that made me glow with pride when we went anywhere.
However, with the scheduled return of my teenage years, together with the thought of losing that special bond which both of us enjoyed, left me feeling very distressed indeed.

#

Since I’d taken to wearing protection all the time auntie had developed a routine that I found wonderful. It was the same for when I got up or went to bed.
Clean up – the applying of various ointments and powders to protect my skin thus prevent any irritation, rashes or reappearance of my pubic hair.
Fresh diaper – sometimes a disposable, sometime fabric that was left to auntie to decide, I happily went along with whatever she thought most appropriate.
Then it was a pair of plastic pants either pulled up or snapped into position. Again auntie made the choice about thickness, colour, pattern, size – often she just liked the clear pull-up style so she could see the diaper underneath.

This was my favourite moment, standing in front of the mirror, or even just laying out, wearing my newly fitted diaper and clear plastic pants. It was a joy to see the fluffy white material contained under the slippery, glossy vinyl and, to me at least (and I’m sure to auntie as well), this was the basis for me becoming her ‘special little boy’. It was like the first block on the Lego board and the start of whatever else was made… and what was being made… was me.

Once that was done then, depending on whether I was going out or going to sleep, she chose what, if anything was to go over it all. She loved choosing my outfits and although I liked that I didn’t have to make a decision I also felt I was giving her something back as a result.

#

I picked up from the way auntie sometimes spoke, reminisced or simply cared for me that this action, this dressing me as a child, meant something to her as well. I hoped that it brought back happy memories of when she and Bill were together; perhaps looking after Gordon and Colin as they began to grow, though needing that stabilising influence which they offered. They had no kids of their own but auntie had spent a great deal of her life devoted to looking after and nurturing the young of the town. I’m sure she saw me as another soul in need of such cherishing and I was certainly appreciative of all that she did for me. Some might have felt smothered by such attention but to me, it was something I’d missed all my life and simply couldn’t get enough of her love.

#

Sometimes, if auntie was working in the den on reports or assessments for Rainbow I’d check out the photo albums again and again. I loved that one picture of Gordon and Colin with their parents and often thought about where the photo might have been taken as it didn’t look like anywhere local. I’d fantasize about an eight year-old Colin wriggling in his diaper and plastic pants under those smart shorts and think… that’s what I do.

The smiles on the boy’s faces were genuine and even at that young age they did look incredibly handsome. Although I couldn’t see, because the photo was cropped at the knee, I imagined they wore leather sandals and little white ankle socks to complete the outfit. That one image from when they were so happy fed into my brain and I mentally produced a thousand and one scenarios that included me wearing my suit and joining them in some adventure or other.

There were a few other snaps of the boys but they were when they were that bit older and had fallen under the spell of Uncle Bill and Auntie Joan. There were shots of them working alongside Bill, looking at the camera and pleased at some completed project. The two boys in their ‘uniform’ of khaki shorts and t-shirts also showed how they had filled out and developed in the time since that early ‘wedding’ photograph. However, every time I saw Colin in one of the poses I’d let my mind wander and think about perhaps him wearing the same protection as me. There were no shots even hinting that he had a diaper on, but that still didn’t stop my imagination from working overtime and supplying him, like me, with a whole array of thick protection.

#

I’d see the boys occasionally. They had the maintenance contract at Rainbow so kept the lawns mowed and the garden trimmed. They also repaired anything that needed doing and removed the large oddly shaped graffiti penis that had been spray-painted on one of the exterior walls. I only caught sight of them for a few moments but was transfixed at how they worked so easily together. Gordon in his paint speckled brown overalls and Colin in his similarly paint streaked brown shorts and t-shirt. To me they looked a powerful couple and wondered what it would be like to join their small firm.

I wished auntie would invite them to the house for dinner or something but, they were a busy little company (remember: no job too small) so their services were always in demand. The other probability of course was that I was often in bed and fast asleep by the time they finished their day’s work. If they happened to notice auntie and I when we were out and about, they always tooted their horn and waved. This simple action had an unexpected effect and my bladder would give way with some kind of excited surge and I’d spend the rest of the day, until auntie noticed, wandering around in a GorCol Services inspired soaked diaper.

#

Since I’d been in auntie’s care I’d never once thought our relationship was odd. In fact, quite the opposite, I’d never known a more loving, understanding, empathetic person whose soul aim was to give other people all the encouragement they might need. In my case she’d provided me with the options of what I wanted and what was needed. I had the one life I was happily living; yet, on the horizon was the life I’d soon have to return to. Auntie was prepared. She’d said it might happen and wanted the trauma of such an event to impact as little as possible. So, to ease me back into teenagedom, sometimes, when we went to a restaurant or shopping, I was encouraged to dress in my ‘normal’ clothes.
Of course, ‘normal’ for me now meant my diaper and such stuff not the teen apparel hung up in the ‘other room’. Together we went through all my clothes and sorted what still fit and useful, what was awful and decided I’d need a few more things for when I went back to school. I had no desire to be trendy but auntie thought I should look like I fit in so that’s how I ended up with an almost entirely new ‘teenage’ wardrobe. In the changing rooms trying on various items seemed strange attempting to drag a pair of chinos over my thick diaper. Still, when I went to school perhaps I wouldn’t be wearing protection?

A problem auntie encountered was my reluctance to wear trousers or jeans because I was more than content in my shorts. I still had my diaper under whatever I wore because I didn’t feel confident about not peeing myself. I’d gotten out of that particular discipline and realised it was something, when I resumed senior school I was going to have to be more aware of. However, since being put in diapers after that first time I wet myself at the mall I’d never wanted to wear my boxers or briefs. I saw they were neatly folded away in one of the draws in the ‘other room’ but I’d had no desire to swap them for my diaper.

There is just something so comforting about a diaper – the way it hugs you all the time. If I’m crouching or sitting and I get up, I like the way you can feel the weight readjust its position – underpants don’t do that. If I’m watching TV I like the way I can stroke the plastic mound knowing that I’m protected and safe. I love the feel of a fresh diaper as it’s taped tightly into place and love when I pee and that warm, clammy flush fills the front and acts like a huge, spontaneous indirect smile… a smile that then stays with you until it’s time for a change and the entire happy process starts all over again.

#

I had another problem and that was, I wasn’t a very sociable person. Back at school in the UK I had tried to avoid mixing and went out of my way not to have ‘best friends’. I don’t know precisely what my thought process in those days was but my general dislike of authority, the people, the situation and the UK, in truth, I just hated everything about everything. However, one thing about the stuffy uniform was that every boy was dressed the same. There were no fashion shows going on there and education was what the school was all about, even if you did look like a reject from the nineteenth century.

Because I was just so resentful of the position I was in it never occurred to me that friends might help me through it all. Over the many years I’d been away from my parents some kids had sought a friendship but I’d been unapproachable and a loner. When I got to England, I despised and was bitter about my life – I hated the inevitability that I’d end up in this grotesque ancient institution even though I’d had to sit an exam to enter its hallowed halls.

Yes, another quandary. I was so mixed up I wanted to do my best at all times, because I thought that was for me, I didn’t want to be reliant on anyone else. If my parents felt they could do without me, then I would show them I didn’t need them. I may have been the least friendly person at school but I was diligent in my work.

#

Oh, the contradictory thoughts and feelings which go through your mind when you hit puberty. Still, I had to mix at some level but kept myself as detached as possible from my ‘house’ mates. It wasn’t always possible and that was how I came to be the recipient of a small trophy for my contribution to a ‘house’ quiz night. For some reason it was like in Slumdog Millionaire, I just knew all the answers. I didn’t know why but I did and my knowledge meant we won by a considerable margin. For two minutes I glowed in the praise of others and then returned to my uncommunicative self.
There is no doubt about it – I was a mess.

#

The chance auntie offered to start again had been some kind of salve because, although I was only mixing with toddlers, at least I was mixing. I no longer hated everyone. My parents were gone so there was no point in hating them and, I know this sounds terrible, but I had rarely thought about mom and dad since I’d arrived in Kansas. I no longer only thought of myself now I had auntie and the rest of Rainbow to think about. The kids at Rainbow had, despite my obvious size difference, accepted me completely and I was grateful to them for that. They were a great crowd who just wanted me to play and have as much fun as they did. I discovered early on that when I stopped fighting my jumbled ‘big boy’ thoughts and gave myself over completely to enjoying my life, even if that was as a diaper-clad toddler, I could… and did.

#

As the time approached for my return to senior education at the town’s High School I got to think that maybe I could reinvent myself. No one knew me here; I’d be just a new boy from Out-of-State who for some reason had to relocate. I could be who I wanted and do what I wanted. I could…
At times I’d get carried away with my thoughts but then look down and see my fluffy white diaper under the see-thru plastic pants and know I didn’t really want to change from where I was, or who I was, at all. I loved being aunties ‘good little boy’ and didn’t want to change. However, the impending visit to the education department’s child psychiatrist had me worried.

#

Auntie tried to prepare me. I’d immersed myself so deeply in being a toddler that the thought of ‘growing up’ made me anxious. However, as I say, auntie was there to help and guide and reaffirm my status. It was unfortunate that my appointment with the psychiatrist was on the same day that I turned fourteen. It was a date I couldn’t change, the psychiatrist was always well booked up so you took the appointment when they said and it wasn’t open to discussion. Birthday or no birthday I was going to be assessed for High School.
The education department was being pretty tough on auntie and I saw the welter of papers she had to fill out for school on my behalf. However, the one thing she did say about attending High School was that they didn’t have a uniform, students could, within reason, wear what they liked. After the formal regalia I’d had to wear at my last school I was quite pleased about that but wondered if I’d be allowed to wear my preferred shorts and t-shirt. Auntie suggested that, when the time came, I should check out what the other students wore and then make a decision. She encouraged me to think positive about it but I still couldn’t get over that I’d be away from my friends at Rainbow and the thought of mixing with ‘big kids’ actually scared me.

#

As I couldn’t be there to celebrate, a few days before my birthday auntie and I made cookies for all the folk at Rainbow. I spent a wonderful evening in the kitchen covering them in colourful frosting. I got a bit messy, which I really enjoyed, standing there next to auntie as she supervised and read off the names of all the boys and girls and staff as I carefully (well not that carefully) piped each name across some weirdly shaped cookie. I was dressed only in my diaper, nursery print plastic pants and a matching bib, which was just as well as I think I tasted more cookies than I should (they were delicious) and frosting ended up all over me and in to some weird places.

On the morning of my birthday I was surprised to see I had more than just a card from auntie. The staff at Rainbow had sent one and a huge, handmade one ‘signed’ by all my friends took pride of place. Auntie had bought me enough since I’d been with her and the only thing I’d hinted I might like was a huge castle I’d seen advertised on TV (aimed at children 5 and over), which had loads of dragons, knights and monsters you could add. Since I’d seen the advert, me and a couple of the boys at Rainbow who had also seen it, had been building our own imaginary castle out of boxes and foam squares. I may have been the biggest boy there but I was just like the others in my excitement of the TV programme that the castle was licensed to.
The day following each TV show, we’d all re-enact what had happened, adding our own interpretation and screaming with delight as Mikey, who was the dragon, pretended to swoop down breathing imaginary fire. It was wonderful.
I got what I wanted for my birthday.

#

I wanted to wear shorts and t-shirt to go and see the psychiatrist but, as I’d been practicing being a teenager again, it was thought jeans and a polo shirt might be more appropriate. However, as I‘d not had a dry day since I put on my first diaper, auntie made sure I still had my protection on under my jeans. Crammed against the tight denim they didn’t crinkle quite so much but I felt slightly more confident knowing I was wearing them.

The psychiatrist saw auntie first and she was in his office for well over an hour. She’d told me before we went in (I was still holding her hand when we were first greeted by Doctor Gomez) to answer honestly. After being with pre-schoolers for so long I wasn’t sure I was capable of being anything but honest, kids may lie but you can tell immediately so I wasn’t going to chance it. So, whilst Auntie Joan was interviewed by the doctor, I found myself on the carpeted floor playing with some toys aimed at the under-fives. I knew the receptionist was watching but pretty soon I forgot about her and just let my imagination run wild as I played with cars and bricks to keep myself amused. I also accidentally wet myself before being called into his office.

#

Eventually auntie swapped places with me in the reception area and I went in alone to see the doctor. It was strange because I was very nervous and yet, when I sat the exam and had the interview for school in the UK, I wasn’t in the least bit bothered, perhaps that was due to the fact I didn’t care. However, now I was confronted by the doctor and with an absolutely soaked diaper hanging between my legs, I was very tense. I wished I still had auntie’s hand to hold but Doctor Gomez tried in his way to put me at ease.
The doctor was a man younger than auntie but certainly didn’t look it. His receding hairline made his face appear long and horse-like, with thin lips that when he smiled seemed more of an evil smirk than amusement. His suit had seen better days but the office itself was bright and tidy with one wall covered by framed diplomas and photographs. I’d expected to see a black leather couch but instead I was offered a seat on a pale beige three seater sofa, which matched the pale beige swivel chair where he sat. There was a desk behind him, with an expensive looking leather chair, a phone and a small recording devise. He appeared pleasant enough but I was too nervous to speak and all I could think about was my wet diaper squashed under my denim jeans. It all seemed so tight and I wanted the looseness of my shorts back as soon as possible.

#

He had a pile of notes in front of him so I gathered he already knew most of my history. I didn’t realise he’d also have a copy of a final report that the UK school had compiled on my academic worth but he had because I could see the school emblem on the front of it.
He asked me about my parent’s death, how it had affected me. He burrowed into my younger life living away from home and how I felt about that. School in the UK and the discipline it offered (I’m not sure what he imagined went on there but corporal punishment just didn’t happen). For over an hour he cross-examined me (or that was what it felt like) about everything since I’d arrived in Kansas but I had a problem, I was getting angry, and I knew I shouldn’t. It seemed to me he wanted to hear negative things about auntie, to somehow blame her for my retreat back to childhood. For the first time since I’d been with auntie I had to think as an adult, I didn’t want to but knew I hated this doctor and what I saw as his snide, nasty insinuations.
I hated people prying or knowing too much about me, (although that huge sheaf of papers meant he already knew a great deal) and, as if sensing my predicament, my bladder just opened up and I felt the warming sensation fill my already soaked diaper. Any thoughts of being an adult vanished in that moment and I did what I thought I had to do to get out of there. So, to emphasise my toddler status, I filled my diaper with as much poo as I could force out. I was grateful that auntie had made sure the plastic pants she’d put me in had been well tucked around my diaper to prevent any leaks. But now I could feel my full and messy diaper squished up in my jeans and wanted to make sure he knew what I’d done.

#

I pulled at my jeans, yanked down my plastic pants and said. “Gone poo poo.”
The smell was horrendous and I saw the doctor back away as I crawled on all-fours towards him.
I wrinkled my nose and grabbed his leg.
“Pwease…”

I didn’t get any request out before he shrugged me off and called for auntie to come and attend to me.
I followed him and tried to grab his leg again but when auntie came in she looked down at me and I immediately sat back on my haunches with a sad expression and pet lip.
“Auntie I done a poo…” I confessed.

Auntie didn’t quite know what was going on but took her cue wonderfully.
“What have you been saying to him?” Her accusation was fierce and direct.
The doctor seemed stunned that he was under attack and could only stammer some kind of defence.
“I’ve only recently got him to engage with other teenagers and you, you quazi-psychiatrist…”
She was on top form and her anger seemed to seep into every word she uttered,
“Have set him back to his…”

Her rant went on for quite some time as I sucked my thumb, sat in my own poo rubbing the front of my engorged diaper looking sorry, weepy and scared.
Doctor Gomez was none too happy about this turn of events and tried to escape into the reception area and hide behind his secretary. She seemed horrified as a smelly fourteen year-old followed him and crawled around her office. With jeans and plastic pants around my ankles I leaked, dripping wet stinking turds onto her lovely beige carpet.
Meanwhile, not only was she not pleased but the doctor’s next patients looked on bemused and shocked in equal amounts.

#

Auntie saw the sign for the bathroom and dragged me in, she was pretending to look annoyed but I could see a slight smirk on her face.
“What were you thinking?”
She whispered as she ripped at the tapes and let my sagging diaper slosh onto the floor.
“I have no idea.” I had to admit.

As always she was prepared and her bag was full of wipes, lotion, powder and spare disposables.
“I just didn’t like him… he was trying to cause trouble…” I whispered back.
I was still wondering to myself just what great plan had formulated in my head but in truth, there was nothing.
“Sorry auntie,” I really was sorry if I’d done something that might reflect badly on her, “but he really was a complete…”
“Now now, no name calling.” She interrupted. “Good boys don’t say naughty words.”
She picked up the messy diaper and deftly rolled it up before shoving it in a rather small and inappropriate pedal bin.
“Well, I’m not sure what his report will say now but I think between us we probably haven’t done ourselves any favours.”
She said and opened a bright green canister.
I giggled as the first cooling wet wipe scraped across my bottom.
“I don’t care.”

I was angry and giggly all at the same time, those wipes really tickled.
“I’m not having him blame you for my wanting a childhood back… not even back. I never had one in the first place so… who is he to deny me one?”
I’m sure there was a tantrum brewing as I thought about screaming these simple facts at him.

#

She could see I was getting agitated and speedily sponged me clean, quickly powdered and slipped a fresh diaper into place. She noticed that because I’d crawled around on the floor with my jeans and plastic pants pulled down some of my mess had managed to stick to the rest of my clothes.
My aunt was more prepared than I would have thought because when we eventually emerged from the bathroom I had a clean t-shirt, fresh protection and a pair of elasticated pale green shorts any five year-old would be proud of.

She looked over at Doctor Gomez who was trying to placate his next patients.
“I don’t know what you said,” she accused, “but I can’t get him to wear anything else.”
She held my hand as I sucked my thumb.

“I shall be making a full report to your superiors about your… methods.”
She left the threat hanging in the air as we waltzed out of his office and climbed into the car.
“Oh Dean, I don’t know what is going to happen now but I have to tell you I felt the same. I didn’t like that man at all.”
She gently pulled my thumb out of my mouth and popped in my dummy.
“However, I think it’s time to give you the birthday you really want.”
She put the car into drive and set off.
It was just after nap time when we arrived at Rainbow so I could happily celebrate my fourteenth (or was that my fourth?), with the people I actually liked.

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 6

Chapter 8

Cute t-shirt and diaper combo – JaykeDaPup

This two combination that we have here sure looks super cute together. That t-shirt sure fits good whit that diaper :) Do you not agree?

Auntie Joan Part 6

This story is written by Les Lea

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

#

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

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

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

#

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

#

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

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

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

#

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

#

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

#

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

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

#

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

#

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

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

#

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

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

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

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

#

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

#

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

#

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

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

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

#

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

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

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

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

#

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

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

#

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

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

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

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

This story is written by Les Lea

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

Chapter 5

Chapter 7

Auntie Joan Part 5

This story is written by Les Lea

There is something about being in a thick diaper. You walk differently. Yes, a waddle of course but something else, the thicker padding causes an amble that makes you feel… ‘toddlersome’. With the extra fabric I sense, with each step, my legs being slightly forced apart, my hips swing more and I have to ‘shake’ every now and then to un-bunch the folds of material. It isn’t a big movement but one that makes me feel, well, makes me feel my diaper is an important part of me. Now I’m getting used to the warm, wet and satisfying feeling of peeing in it… I like it even more.

#

Auntie Joan was continuing her thoughts about the rooms.
“But, for as long as you want and desire your childhood, we have this room as well.”
Her hand swept over the improved nursery.
“You choose where you want to sleep and how…”
My warm diaper had transformed me to a three year-old and my mind wandered. I wriggled in the wet delight and looked over at the piles of diapers at the change station hoping I’d get to wear them all before I had to go back to being a ‘big boy’. The very thought of being anything but what I now was I found frightening. I loved being auntie’s ‘good little boy’, I felt at my most comfortable when I was well-padded and now I’d learned how to have fun, I was in no hurry to return to a school of my peers; Molly, William and the others back at Rainbow were now my peers.
I’d only just promised auntie I’d be her ‘little boy’ and now that I was, I would do anything to stay that way. I instinctively knew that she wouldn’t want me to change, that any change would be forced on her by government rules. I just hoped that she would delay the inevitable for as long as possible.

I wanted my diaper, I wanted my short shorts, I wanted colourful and juvenile clothes, cartoons, lullabies, mad bursts of energy followed by naps. I wanted to hold hands when we went out, I wanted to know that crying wasn’t seen as a sissy thing to do but what was expected from a child with limited vocabulary. I wanted to be loved as you would and should love a toddler. With Auntie Joan I got that and more… and I wasn’t going to give it up if I could help it.

#

I was sitting in the bubble-filled bath feeling a bit sad but auntie was kneeling by the side and encouraging me to play with a couple of toy boats she’d added. I half-heartedly sailed them around.
“Dean, sweetie, I want you to be a happy little boy for as long as possible.”
She squeezed the sponge over my head and the resulting warm cascade was very soothing.
“We have to face up to the fact that things change and I want it so… well… it isn’t a trauma when it happens. However, I don’t want my best little boy to worry. It’s going to be a while before any changes happen and…”

She stroked my short wet hair and looked me in the eye.
“There’s nothing to stop you being a little boy when you come home from big boy school now is there?”
She looked at me to see if there was a happy response in my eyes but at that moment I just sighed and shrugged and let auntie continue bathing me.
Once finished and dried I was again made ready for bed. The oil she spread over my body, and the obvious pleasure she got from making sure it was thoroughly rubbed in, made me smile. She was doing her best and I was coming round to accepting that we had started on a ‘relationship’ that neither of us really knew where or when it would end. I didn’t like these adult thoughts and I hoped they would be my last, but thankfully auntie was going to be there for whatever happened and more importantly, for whatever I needed.

#

I bucked up as a shower of baby powder covered my lower half and I could see she had already pre-folded my night time diaper. It had the thick pad in place and she deftly slipped it under my bum, lifted up my legs and adding more powder to my bottom and genitals before taking the huge pins and securing me in. This time she snapped me into a thick pair of bright yellow vinyl pants and pulled an equally bright yellow onesie over my head and snapped that into place.
“Where is he?”
She hid her face behind her hands before quickly reappearing.
“There he is.”
She was playing the simplest and silliest baby game going and I was giggling. It was a joke because I was laid there in the brightest yellow possible, a beacon of visibility, and no one could have lost me looking like that.

She did the same routine a couple more times before I was laughing so much I thought I might pee myself again. Auntie took my hand and helped me to my feet. There it was again, that wonderful, bulky feeling that made me feel so… special.
We waddled down stairs together and she sat me on the couch to watch more TV. This time she’d set a DVD going that was really just a parade of childish cartoons, which I loved, because I remembered that a couple of the kids back at Rainbow were wearing some of these characters on their clothes and I didn’t know who they were.

#

Auntie went off to the kitchen to get some snacks and I settled on my tummy in front of the screen to enjoy what was happening. My bulky front making me wriggle to get comfortable, I could only imagine what I looked like from behind but, I knew auntie (and I) would both approve.
She was away about ten minutes but when she returned gone were the cookies and Sippy cup I’d expected, instead was warm milk in a baby’s bottle. Auntie settled on the sofa and then patted the space by her side inviting me to join. I crawled into the crook and she immediately hugged me then turned so that I was on my back but facing her. She hadn’t said anything, just smiled and waited for me to decide if this was something I wanted. I wasn’t sure but I knew it was something else auntie had decided I needed so happily complied.
The rubber teat slipped between my lips with ease. Once she was sure I was comfy she tipped the bottle up and let me feed, sucking it down in a rhythm I didn’t know I had (perhaps it’s a natural bodily response to a nipple that never really leaves you). The drink was warm banana and vanilla flavoured milk and wonderful to taste as it slipped gratifyingly down my throat.
As she held me close I could feel the warmth of her body radiating the love I so craved. I snuggled deeper into that embrace and as I sucked I felt both small and soothed. There was nothing about this process that I didn’t find enjoyable, especially as she patted and rubbed my padding in time to the rhythm of my nursing.

The cartoon on the television was still going but auntie had reduced the sound and hummed a little tune as I finished the milk. I was so relaxed I was almost asleep but auntie still held and gently rocked me as I dozed. Her fingers were softly making patterns on my tummy and occasionally she’d pat out a tempo on my vinyl protection.

#

I’d dozed so much and come round again that I had no idea of the time as she led me up to my room. This time she drew back the cover on the new bed and invited me to climb in. I really wanted to get into the other, I liked the feeling of security and childishness that the rails offered but, I couldn’t deny it, the new bed, with my choice of covers (colourful cartoon animals) was equally welcoming. I was reluctant of this change at first but climbed in anyway and was immediately engulfed in the new, clean and fresh linen. My bare legs felt the novelty of new sheets and a shiver of cool pleasure ran through my body.

She pulled the covers up to my chin and kissed me goodnight. I wondered where my teddy was but auntie just laid the pale blue fleecy blanket I’d chosen in the shop next to my head. Its soft fluffiness tickled my cheek so pulled it in and hugged the fuzzy material close. I can’t explain how wonderful and calming it felt but my mind was suddenly empty of all those earlier awful and worrying thoughts. Now, as I slipped into dreamland, I had never been more snug, cosy or secure.

#

My tummy was full, my brain was empty and I was in the most wonderful place when auntie turned off the light and wished me “sweet dreams”. I snuggled up to my security blanket and for some reason my thumb found its way between my lips. I suppose the baby’s bottle earlier had got me thinking of sucking on something but I wasn’t even thinking of a reason as I happily suckled my own digit.

I woke up late in the night and could barely make out anything in the room. There was hardly any light coming in through the window and auntie had not fitted a nightlight, which I thought I might mention at some point. There were only vague shadows being cast and I could make out the bulky contours of the closet. Strangely, there was one part of the room that did catch what little light there was and I could see the outline of my plastic pants hung on the rail above the changing table. Oddly enough I must have found this reassuring because I soon closed my eyes and drifted back to sleep. However, this time my dream was very different.

#

Neither auntie or uncle, or mom or dad, made an appearance; instead I was in the woods where I was playing with a green beaver (like the one on my covers). We’d been chasing each other, along with a red deer and purple bird, all over the place; in and out of the dappled leafy glades, through the bracken, over grassy hills and back to the ultra-blue meandering river. However, one of the little streams that flowed into the river was blocked by logs. The beaver said he hadn’t done it but was admiring the natural dam that had clogged its course.
Unfortunately, further downstream, the water flow had stopped and large orange fish were distressingly flapping around in the tiny puddles that were left. We knew we had to do something to save them so we all pulled and pushed at the woody obstruction. The beaver was gnawing as quickly as he could, the bird was fluttering around hoping to dislodge any twigs with the beat of its wings, whilst I was straining as I took hold of a large log that seemed stuck and to be causing most of the trouble. I was sweating from the effort. I pulled and pushed, gripped and tugged, twisted and turned and eventually, with a huge, straining heave, I could feel the entire structure begin to give way. Soon the water began to trickle through the gap we’d made, which was rapidly followed by the entire dam disintegrating, releasing the water, the woody obstruction being forced apart and swiftly turning the empty stream into a raging torrent.
I suddenly woke up pleased with the success of the mission. The morning sun was already beating at the blinds trying to get in and I was lying in… in… Oh God… what had I done?

#

The feeling of accomplishment was fleeting as I realised just what had happened.
I was in shock.
I could smell, as well as feel, the mess that was occupying my night time protection and I didn’t know what to do. I was stunned that my body should betray me in such a way but I had no idea how to deal with it. I didn’t dare move in case I made matters worse. I didn’t dare look in case I’d made a mess all over my new pristine sheets, I was completely horror struck that I’d done something that I couldn’t remember ever having done before. I’m sure as a child it happened but it wasn’t something I recalled but at that moment, I was as helpless as a new-born baby.
As I lay there wondering if I should try and waddle to the bathroom auntie bowled in with her usual morning enthusiasm.
“Morning sweet…”

She obviously detected something was wrong as she pulled back the blinds and opened the window. Even a wonderful sunny Kansas morning couldn’t help the situation.
She returned to my bedside and looked down as I squirmed in my shame.
“Has my little Poppet had a bit of an accident?”

There was no anger in her voice just a question that obviously needed no response from me.
She pulled back the covers to reveal my yellow onesie and my burgeoning diaper.
I felt guilty, ashamed and scared of my own body. How could it do this?

#

Auntie was of course immediately reassuring.
“Don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll soon have my little chick,” I think she was jokingly referring to my extreme yellow outfit, “all clean and spruced up.”
She helped me from my bed. I tentatively moved, desperate not to dislodge anything that was trapped in my diaper, and was relieved to see my plastic protection hadn’t leaked.
Auntie guided me over to the new, reinforced and larger padded plastic changing area and had me lay out. I kept saying how sorry I was but she just smiled and got on with the clean-up. She cautiously released the onesie and the vinyl pants snaps, which revealed the fabric diaper looking like it had been through several muddy puddles. It was discoloured and I closed my eyes trying not to think of the horror I supposed was waiting for auntie once she unpinned the soggy thing.
“OK Poppet everything is alright. Don’t worry, auntie will see to it.”
Her reassurance was constant but the guilt hung heavily, like my diaper.
“It’s natural sweetheart. Don’t be upset, even good boys have accidents so don’t let it worry you. I’ll soon have you looking as cute as always.”

#

The stench was overpowering to me but auntie just rolled up the offending article and put it straight into the waiting pail. Thankfully, the change station was well-equipped for such emergencies and a huge carton of wet wipes suddenly became the centre of my world as she slowly swabbed the mess from my nether region. The damp, menthol-smelling wipes were cool to my skin so came as a bit of a shock as she applied the first one.
She could see I was on the verge of tears so her encouragement was most welcome. I’d always assumed that I wouldn’t ever fill my diaper in such a way, that I would be able to control that particular side of my bodily function, but now?
The fact it was of no concern to auntie and that, judging by her words and tone, it was just something little boys do, made me less anxious. However, I didn’t really want to watch so closed my eyes and let her get on with what she had to do.

She was of course incredibly thorough, bringing in a bowl of warm water and cloth to re-mop the entire area. With all the products and supplies she needed now at a more accessible height; I was daubed in more protecting cream and covered in powder. She then grabbed a couple of disposables and taped me in before finding a large pair of opaque plastic pants to drag over it all. She went to the closet and pulled out a pink and blue onesie that had an aeroplane on the front, which snapped neatly between my legs holding the bulky structure tightly together. Then she shuffled up a pair of very loose, elasticated denim style shorts to finish. It wasn’t as smart as yesterday’s outfit but looked more playful and I suppose, juvenile but I still felt happy wearing it.
Despite the horror that had been in my diaper, it had only taken auntie a few minutes to clean me up, get me dressed and ready for my day at Rainbow. I inspected my new outfit in the mirror and thought how much more I looked the part and hoped I’d fit in better now I appeared more infantile.

#

By 7.30am I was already crawling around with Simon and Kate, two four year-olds, who wanted me to join them, because of the plane on my chest, to make an airport. There were a number of different sized toy planes, some you just pushed but others that made a noise and worked with a clockwork engine. We had a long runway that we swept the planes up and down, taking off and landing and asking permission from the Lego control tower when we could take our turn. It was great fun but, as more kids arrived, our noisy, busy runway got shorter and shorter so in the end we abandoned that and went to play with some toy cars in the corner where a garage was set.
The day followed the same pattern as the day before but was completely different. I made other friends and we played different games together. We coloured in, we built, we ran around, we listened to stories, we got checked, we got changed and we napped. We laughed, we cried (well I didn’t but some did) we hugged and we pretended, we pretended we were grown up, which was… fun.

At one point I was growling like a lion and chasing around after a group of other kids pretending to be very savage and attempting to eat them for my dinner. The kids were screaming in delight as I was on all-fours chasing and roaring my complete fiercest when almost five year-old Deborah came up to me, spanked me hard on my padded bottom and said very loudly.
“Naughty kitty, you’re scaring Julie.”
I was so surprised by this intervention that I sat back on my haunches and felt thoroughly chastised by this girl.
Julie was indeed looking a bit scared but all the others were laughing and liked me chasing them around but Deborah was having none of it.
“Stop scaring people.”
She wagged her finger and though I wasn’t going to cry, she seemed so grown up in her attitude that I did feel ashamed and thought if I didn’t stop she was going to spank me again as punishment.

That authority came from the fact that she didn’t wear a diaper. She was confident and potty trained, and we ‘little babies,’ still wearing our thick protection, felt she must know best.
In fact she was very proud of the fact she was toilet trained. Like all the kids at Rainbow, because of the heat, we wore as little as possible. Her pretty little flowery dress was short, so every time she spun or bent over or just played in general, everyone could see the lack of a diaper and her silky matching little panties. She wasn’t a bully, in fact she seemed to see it as her job to look out for the younger, easily scared or upset members of the group and make it right for them. She was helpful and considerate and the staff liked her because of her empathy with other kids.
As I reeled back under her wagging finger I could feel my body try and retreat into itself and without any help from me, I wet myself.
The other kids I’d been chasing obviously thought the same of Deborah as I did because they immediately settled down under her stern words and I’m sure I wasn’t the only one to let go a fearful pee.
My diaper wasn’t checked again so I had a heavy load to carry with me all the way home.

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 4

Chapter 6

ABU PreSchool Diaper Time – bluecrinklepaws

Looks like someone have manage to get some nice and good diaper photos here :)

I hope he have a nice diaper time :)

Do NOT follow this link or you will be banned from the site!