Auntie Joan Part 10

This story is written by Les Lea

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

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

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

#

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

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

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

#

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

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

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

#

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

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

#

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

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

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

#

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

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

#

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

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

#

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

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

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

#

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

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

#

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

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

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

This story is written by Les Lea

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

Chapter 9

Auntie Joan Part 9

This story is written by Les Lea

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

#

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

#

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

#

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

#

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

#

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

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

#

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

#

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

#

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

#

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

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

#

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

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

#

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

#

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

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

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

#

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

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

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

#

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

#

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

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

#

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

#

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

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

#

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

This story is written by Les Lea

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

Chapter 8

Chapter 10

And here’s me crinkling – noni_kitten

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

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

Soaked Morning

Soaked MorningGeez, you’re just about to sit down and play some games in the morning, and you already have to go.

Starbuck by GibsonScratch

Draw and text by Blankie

Source: http://www.furaffinity.net/view/30276221/

Awww poor Starbuck looks like he needs to take a break already for some clean up and a diaper change. This sure is one heavy leaking diaper here he have ended up whit. Wounder how the leak could ended up being this bad?

I only hope his nice carpet dont get destroyed now :(

I can sure understand how surprised he is that the diaper he is wearing have start leaking. That sure is not something fun to end up whit and you always hope that the diaper is able to handle it.

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

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

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