This story is written by Les Lea
Auntie Joan had been working from her den at home. She’d had quite a lot of paper work regarding Rainbow and perhaps even more after what happened at school. However, she’d said that we needed to talk and I was keen to get whatever the ‘problem’ was out of the way as soon as possible.
“Ah Doodle,” she greeted me caringly at the door, “how did the rest of the day go?”
I shrugged and slipped the backpack off my shoulder and onto the floor.
“I’m sorry sweetheart, it wasn’t the best way to start a new school,” she added sympathetically.
She put her arm around me and pulled me in for an embrace that always made me feel good. She kissed the top of my head and patted my padded bottom and asked if I needed a change.
Despite the fact that I’d been wearing them since the morning, I’d resolutely kept myself from peeing in them. I tried to control my bladder as much as possible and I think I succeeded… well to some degree anyway.
“Not yet, erm, er, you said in the nurse’s office that we needed to talk, er, can we do it now please?”
I was feeling a bit apprehensive and a little afraid. I had no idea what the psychiatrist had said in his report but, after what I’d done, I wasn’t too hopeful. Also, on the journey home I’d begun to think that, if like the nurse, the principal thought I might somehow now be a bit mentally ‘challenged’, perhaps they would put me in a lower grade.
There was a load of rubbish and doubt flowing through my mind and I urgently needed auntie to help sort it out. I needed to know what was happening.
She guided me through to the sofa and we sat down, my padding crinkling slightly as I made myself comfortable.
“Now then,” she cleared her throat. “Mr Thomson (the Principal) has a bit of a problem with you.”
She looked to see if that information alone would get a reaction.
“Although your school report from England was positive… the psychiatrist report was not particularly positive… and blamed me for your unconventional behaviour.”
She seemed to just cast that idea off with a ‘well he would wouldn’t he?’ shrug.
“According to his professional opinion – You…”
She raised her eyebrows as if to emphasise the point.
“…apparently reacting to my need to keep you in protection, had adopted some strange juvenile habits, which he was keen to point out might ‘flare’ up at any moment.”
I looked at her and saw a look of resignation on her face.
“They think because I run The Rainbow Rooms Nursery…” she took a deep breath, “for me to cope with the sudden arrival of a heart-broken teen ‘still bereaving the loss of his parents’ I need to see you no different from the other children I look after.”
She shrugged and raised her eyebrows again as if to say, ‘that’s what the psychiatrist thinks’.
I shook my head and mumbled that it simply wasn’t true.
She hugged me tightly.
“We know the truth but because of your reluctance to tell him everything, and be quite defensive when talking about me, they think I’m the problem.”
“I’ve tried to explain things to both the psychiatrist and to the principal but the outcome is…”
She paused and I don’t think it was for dramatic effect.
“…they want us to see a different family psychiatrist and get another appraisal.”
I still wasn’t too sure what this all meant but a sudden thought struck me.
“They can’t send me away… can they?”
The very idea sent me into a panic and the flow to my diaper was matched by the deluge of tears running down my face.
“Ohh auntie, please don’t let them send me away. I don’t want to go back to that horrible school. Please don’t let them…”
My sobbing was reaching a hysterical level as the flood of tears soaked auntie’s dress as she tried her best to comfort me.
At that moment I felt like a little boy who had no control over anything. I was grateful for the unconditional love that auntie gave me and anxious that I in no way compromise what she did for me. However, as I wept I couldn’t help but realise that my life now appeared to be in more than just auntie’s hands. I wasn’t old enough to take complete control. I wasn’t in a position to make demands because there would always be someone (like that damned psychiatrist), who, no doubt full of good intentions and thinking of what was only right for me, didn’t get who I was and what I wanted.
Rainbow had offered me a fun and completely different way of life. I know my education more or less stopped but I was learning something from my fellow toddlers that I hadn’t learned before… friendship. I was happy to throw myself into anything that other kids wanted to involve me in instead of being the self-centred, aloof student I’d been at any of my previous schools. I felt I’d blossomed in that environment and although I didn’t want to leave it, knew I had eventually to get back to a more conventional education.
After feeling quite good being at senior school and having a friend in Oliver, I now felt totally useless. The confidence and esteem building auntie had done tumbled around me and I wanted to retreat to where I knew I was safe. It took some time but eventually my tears dried up, alas my diaper was soaked through. Auntie noticed and recommended that we do something about it. My safe space.
On the changing table up in the nursery auntie got to work with her usual efficiency. As she cleaned me up she added another of the stipulations from the principal – ‘when at school I needed to wear protection at all times’. He was firm with auntie about this requirement, he said he was not going to have an ‘accident’ like the psychiatrist experienced in his classrooms or anywhere else on school property. To make sure I complied with this instruction I would be obliged to visit the nurse every morning to be checked before I’d be allowed into any class.
I didn’t know a lot about psychiatrists but thought that info about my ‘accident’ in his office should have remained confidential, why was it in a report to the principal. Apparently, word had got around from the next patients, it was a small town and gossip was at a premium.
So, despite my trying to be a fourteen year-old student they were determined to keep me in diapers. I wasn’t sure whether to be happy or sad about this news. However, as auntie wrapped me snuggly in a fresh disposable, snapped a new pair of pink plastic pants into place and guided me to the open closet filled with my toddler clothes, surprisingly, I resented that the school was insisting what I wear.
At school in the UK I’d only wet intermittently, although, since the news of my parent’s deaths it appeared that more often than not my mind just couldn’t be bothered sending any message to my bladder when I needed to go to the bathroom.
During the day, since auntie had tried to get me back into ‘big boy’ briefs, my toilet training had been reasonably successful because I was more aware of what was needed. However, as I slept, there was no such discipline. Almost every morning I woke up wet, and I have to say, it didn’t worry me at all; I loved it when auntie changed my soaked diaper.
That morning intimacy was something I’d never experienced with anyone else before. When I was young and wet at school the ‘nurses’ just did their job, there was no love or connection from either me or them but with auntie it was so different.
Even though I wasn’t a toddler she took time and effort in making sure I was happy. She talked and we giggled, she powdered and I’d wiggle, she slipped me into a comfy diaper and I was grateful. I was grateful because the soft, fluffy, thick, reassuring diaper was an extension of auntie’s love.
Maybe that was the trouble. Maybe I’d gotten too reliant on having that circle of love surrounding my groin. However, I couldn’t let auntie take the blame for my dependency because of her devotion in making me a complete human being. I had to explain to any new psychiatrist that because of auntie’s methods I was becoming less insular and more able to deal with the real world, even if that had meant almost restarting my development from scratch.
However, the more I thought about it being a terrific plan, I wasn’t sure I had the right words or attitude not to make things worse when I spoke, or worse still, nervously pee myself in that kind of official company. I knew I got angry. I’d displayed that anger in the psychiatrists office and look how that turned out. I was angry that I was feeling angry, which can’t be a good place to be but… as I wriggled in my diaper and closed my eyes briefly; I could feel the stress evaporate. There was safety in my diapers.
At Rainbow and with auntie of course, I never thought about authority. I was like the rest of the kids, the adults were in charge and decisions were made on our behalf. I never thought that those decisions were made to make anything but us toddler’s lives better and more fun. They kept us clean and happy, fed and entertained; it was strange that I felt more of a real person at Rainbow than I ever did anywhere else.
Certainly with my parents I’d never felt anything more than a visitor just passing through their lives, in England I felt detached and lonely, despite the teachers best efforts to include me in everything. I think I was too far gone by the age of ten and rejected everything but study. I had begun to shun intimacy in any form as a protection, I suppose, a bit like the protection auntie let me wear. I felt safe when I was protected.
I satisfied myself on the notion I was quite bright. Obviously on many levels I didn’t come close but my high grades told a different story. I’d used my inner anger for quite some time to justify why I, Dean Court, was the way I was. I thought I was an individual. I thought I was clever in my independence. I even thought my bedwetting was somehow proof that (even as a boy) I was my own man. Stupid, Stupid STUPID!
My anger would never appear valid it would be seen as a childish tantrum rather than any cogent argument I wanted to present. Somehow I needed to keep that rage under control like it was at Rainbow. I’d never once felt anything but happiness there and somehow I’d have to transfer that pleasure to my day to day existence in High School. Perhaps the diapers might be the solution, or if not, at least a helpful soft and fluffy hug when I felt my annoyance rising.
I grabbed a pink t-shirt and a pink and blue pair of shorts from the closet and wondered downstairs to join auntie for our meal. As always she could see I was in some kind of quandary and wanted to help, the thing was, I just didn’t want to think grown up stuff when I was in my toddler clothes. I needed them to escape from…
“Sweetheart,” She looked concerned. “I wish I could lift all this stress off your shoulders.”
I sat at the table toying with my food. I knew I shouldn’t, she’d made me a lovely meal, but I just couldn’t raise any enthusiasm for it. Again the feeling of inadequacy swamped my head… and… there was something else that came and bit me on the bum… I realised I’d become a whiney little kid who was using any excuse to justify my behaviour.
Auntie had said some time ago that there would be times when I wanted to be a toddler and there were times when I needed to be fourteen. I had to separate these two different sides of my personality and it was proving very difficult.
That night auntie and I tried, in between cuddles, to map out some kind of strategy… and I’d have to find a way to contend with any comments from other students once they found out I wore diapers. Wearing diapers wasn’t a worry for me as my general lack of concern over what anyone else thought about me, or what I chose to dress in, had armed me pretty well. I knew that if they didn’t get a rise or embarrassment out of me they would soon stop any comments. However, there were always going to be bullies and my diapers might just be like a red rag to a… bully.
That night I dreamed of bullies and Oliver. Well I say Oliver but at times he was both him and Colin. It was perhaps strange that at times they both melded into one; though I’m thankful that each time that happened they/he was still my friend.
The bullies had striped me naked and were running around throwing my diaper to one and other as I played an unhappy ‘piggy-in-the-middle’. Meanwhile, ‘Coliver’ was desperately trying to retrieve it but was having no luck over these older and bigger boys. Eventually, having tired of calling me names and seeing my pee-pee wobble back and forth in the middle of the playground, they left, taking with them my protection and leaving me naked below the waist. ‘Coliver’ searched around until we were alone and then surreptitiously delved into his backpack and produced a fresh clean disposable.
I was shocked but with a nervous smile he said, “I’ll always have your back.”
He helped me into it and wearing just that diaper I went back to class. It was embarrassing to some degree but, as everyone knew about my diapers by then, it wasn’t a big deal.
The following morning I woke up dry. Yes, one of the few occasions when this happened although my bed was a mess from all the tossing and turning I’d done during my dream. With my sheets in a tangle and pillows thrown onto the floor I’d woken up slightly disorientated and worrying about bullies lying in wait. I mistook my teddy bear, looming in the corner of the bed as a possible antagonist and thrown out my fist in a pathetic attempt at a punch. Teddy looked pretty annoyed at what I’d done and auntie came in and found me bouncing him up and down on my plastic bulge frantically apologising for hurting him.
I wasn’t sure if this was quite the way for a fourteen year-old high school student to be acting but I suppose neither was auntie stripping me from my diaper, sharing my joy at being dry and sending me off to see to my morning ablutions. When I returned my boxers had been replaced with a disposable and a pair of clear plastic pants. I suppose so that the nurse and anyone else who might need proof could see I was well protected.
“Do you want to try and do it for yourself?” Auntie asked quietly from the door.
Over the time I’d been in diapers I had made one or two attempts at fitting myself but it just seemed such an operation and far better if someone else saw to it.
“Can you do it please auntie. I, er, prefer it when you do, er…”
She smiled and did what she always did… she made me feel safe and secure both mentally and physically.
This story is written by Les Lea
You can find more story’s like this one posted on My ABDL Life. The only thing you need to do is to check out this page to find them.