Auntie Joan Part 5
This story is written by Les Lea
There is something about being in a thick diaper. You walk differently. Yes, a waddle of course but something else, the thicker padding causes an amble that makes you feel… ‘toddlersome’. With the extra fabric I sense, with each step, my legs being slightly forced apart, my hips swing more and I have to ‘shake’ every now and then to un-bunch the folds of material. It isn’t a big movement but one that makes me feel, well, makes me feel my diaper is an important part of me. Now I’m getting used to the warm, wet and satisfying feeling of peeing in it… I like it even more.
Auntie Joan was continuing her thoughts about the rooms.
“But, for as long as you want and desire your childhood, we have this room as well.”
Her hand swept over the improved nursery.
“You choose where you want to sleep and how…”
My warm diaper had transformed me to a three year-old and my mind wandered. I wriggled in the wet delight and looked over at the piles of diapers at the change station hoping I’d get to wear them all before I had to go back to being a ‘big boy’. The very thought of being anything but what I now was I found frightening. I loved being auntie’s ‘good little boy’, I felt at my most comfortable when I was well-padded and now I’d learned how to have fun, I was in no hurry to return to a school of my peers; Molly, William and the others back at Rainbow were now my peers.
I’d only just promised auntie I’d be her ‘little boy’ and now that I was, I would do anything to stay that way. I instinctively knew that she wouldn’t want me to change, that any change would be forced on her by government rules. I just hoped that she would delay the inevitable for as long as possible.
I wanted my diaper, I wanted my short shorts, I wanted colourful and juvenile clothes, cartoons, lullabies, mad bursts of energy followed by naps. I wanted to hold hands when we went out, I wanted to know that crying wasn’t seen as a sissy thing to do but what was expected from a child with limited vocabulary. I wanted to be loved as you would and should love a toddler. With Auntie Joan I got that and more… and I wasn’t going to give it up if I could help it.
I was sitting in the bubble-filled bath feeling a bit sad but auntie was kneeling by the side and encouraging me to play with a couple of toy boats she’d added. I half-heartedly sailed them around.
“Dean, sweetie, I want you to be a happy little boy for as long as possible.”
She squeezed the sponge over my head and the resulting warm cascade was very soothing.
“We have to face up to the fact that things change and I want it so… well… it isn’t a trauma when it happens. However, I don’t want my best little boy to worry. It’s going to be a while before any changes happen and…”
She stroked my short wet hair and looked me in the eye.
“There’s nothing to stop you being a little boy when you come home from big boy school now is there?”
She looked at me to see if there was a happy response in my eyes but at that moment I just sighed and shrugged and let auntie continue bathing me.
Once finished and dried I was again made ready for bed. The oil she spread over my body, and the obvious pleasure she got from making sure it was thoroughly rubbed in, made me smile. She was doing her best and I was coming round to accepting that we had started on a ‘relationship’ that neither of us really knew where or when it would end. I didn’t like these adult thoughts and I hoped they would be my last, but thankfully auntie was going to be there for whatever happened and more importantly, for whatever I needed.
I bucked up as a shower of baby powder covered my lower half and I could see she had already pre-folded my night time diaper. It had the thick pad in place and she deftly slipped it under my bum, lifted up my legs and adding more powder to my bottom and genitals before taking the huge pins and securing me in. This time she snapped me into a thick pair of bright yellow vinyl pants and pulled an equally bright yellow onesie over my head and snapped that into place.
“Where is he?”
She hid her face behind her hands before quickly reappearing.
“There he is.”
She was playing the simplest and silliest baby game going and I was giggling. It was a joke because I was laid there in the brightest yellow possible, a beacon of visibility, and no one could have lost me looking like that.
She did the same routine a couple more times before I was laughing so much I thought I might pee myself again. Auntie took my hand and helped me to my feet. There it was again, that wonderful, bulky feeling that made me feel so… special.
We waddled down stairs together and she sat me on the couch to watch more TV. This time she’d set a DVD going that was really just a parade of childish cartoons, which I loved, because I remembered that a couple of the kids back at Rainbow were wearing some of these characters on their clothes and I didn’t know who they were.
Auntie went off to the kitchen to get some snacks and I settled on my tummy in front of the screen to enjoy what was happening. My bulky front making me wriggle to get comfortable, I could only imagine what I looked like from behind but, I knew auntie (and I) would both approve.
She was away about ten minutes but when she returned gone were the cookies and Sippy cup I’d expected, instead was warm milk in a baby’s bottle. Auntie settled on the sofa and then patted the space by her side inviting me to join. I crawled into the crook and she immediately hugged me then turned so that I was on my back but facing her. She hadn’t said anything, just smiled and waited for me to decide if this was something I wanted. I wasn’t sure but I knew it was something else auntie had decided I needed so happily complied.
The rubber teat slipped between my lips with ease. Once she was sure I was comfy she tipped the bottle up and let me feed, sucking it down in a rhythm I didn’t know I had (perhaps it’s a natural bodily response to a nipple that never really leaves you). The drink was warm banana and vanilla flavoured milk and wonderful to taste as it slipped gratifyingly down my throat.
As she held me close I could feel the warmth of her body radiating the love I so craved. I snuggled deeper into that embrace and as I sucked I felt both small and soothed. There was nothing about this process that I didn’t find enjoyable, especially as she patted and rubbed my padding in time to the rhythm of my nursing.
The cartoon on the television was still going but auntie had reduced the sound and hummed a little tune as I finished the milk. I was so relaxed I was almost asleep but auntie still held and gently rocked me as I dozed. Her fingers were softly making patterns on my tummy and occasionally she’d pat out a tempo on my vinyl protection.
I’d dozed so much and come round again that I had no idea of the time as she led me up to my room. This time she drew back the cover on the new bed and invited me to climb in. I really wanted to get into the other, I liked the feeling of security and childishness that the rails offered but, I couldn’t deny it, the new bed, with my choice of covers (colourful cartoon animals) was equally welcoming. I was reluctant of this change at first but climbed in anyway and was immediately engulfed in the new, clean and fresh linen. My bare legs felt the novelty of new sheets and a shiver of cool pleasure ran through my body.
She pulled the covers up to my chin and kissed me goodnight. I wondered where my teddy was but auntie just laid the pale blue fleecy blanket I’d chosen in the shop next to my head. Its soft fluffiness tickled my cheek so pulled it in and hugged the fuzzy material close. I can’t explain how wonderful and calming it felt but my mind was suddenly empty of all those earlier awful and worrying thoughts. Now, as I slipped into dreamland, I had never been more snug, cosy or secure.
My tummy was full, my brain was empty and I was in the most wonderful place when auntie turned off the light and wished me “sweet dreams”. I snuggled up to my security blanket and for some reason my thumb found its way between my lips. I suppose the baby’s bottle earlier had got me thinking of sucking on something but I wasn’t even thinking of a reason as I happily suckled my own digit.
I woke up late in the night and could barely make out anything in the room. There was hardly any light coming in through the window and auntie had not fitted a nightlight, which I thought I might mention at some point. There were only vague shadows being cast and I could make out the bulky contours of the closet. Strangely, there was one part of the room that did catch what little light there was and I could see the outline of my plastic pants hung on the rail above the changing table. Oddly enough I must have found this reassuring because I soon closed my eyes and drifted back to sleep. However, this time my dream was very different.
Neither auntie or uncle, or mom or dad, made an appearance; instead I was in the woods where I was playing with a green beaver (like the one on my covers). We’d been chasing each other, along with a red deer and purple bird, all over the place; in and out of the dappled leafy glades, through the bracken, over grassy hills and back to the ultra-blue meandering river. However, one of the little streams that flowed into the river was blocked by logs. The beaver said he hadn’t done it but was admiring the natural dam that had clogged its course.
Unfortunately, further downstream, the water flow had stopped and large orange fish were distressingly flapping around in the tiny puddles that were left. We knew we had to do something to save them so we all pulled and pushed at the woody obstruction. The beaver was gnawing as quickly as he could, the bird was fluttering around hoping to dislodge any twigs with the beat of its wings, whilst I was straining as I took hold of a large log that seemed stuck and to be causing most of the trouble. I was sweating from the effort. I pulled and pushed, gripped and tugged, twisted and turned and eventually, with a huge, straining heave, I could feel the entire structure begin to give way. Soon the water began to trickle through the gap we’d made, which was rapidly followed by the entire dam disintegrating, releasing the water, the woody obstruction being forced apart and swiftly turning the empty stream into a raging torrent.
I suddenly woke up pleased with the success of the mission. The morning sun was already beating at the blinds trying to get in and I was lying in… in… Oh God… what had I done?
The feeling of accomplishment was fleeting as I realised just what had happened.
I was in shock.
I could smell, as well as feel, the mess that was occupying my night time protection and I didn’t know what to do. I was stunned that my body should betray me in such a way but I had no idea how to deal with it. I didn’t dare move in case I made matters worse. I didn’t dare look in case I’d made a mess all over my new pristine sheets, I was completely horror struck that I’d done something that I couldn’t remember ever having done before. I’m sure as a child it happened but it wasn’t something I recalled but at that moment, I was as helpless as a new-born baby.
As I lay there wondering if I should try and waddle to the bathroom auntie bowled in with her usual morning enthusiasm.
She obviously detected something was wrong as she pulled back the blinds and opened the window. Even a wonderful sunny Kansas morning couldn’t help the situation.
She returned to my bedside and looked down as I squirmed in my shame.
“Has my little Poppet had a bit of an accident?”
There was no anger in her voice just a question that obviously needed no response from me.
She pulled back the covers to reveal my yellow onesie and my burgeoning diaper.
I felt guilty, ashamed and scared of my own body. How could it do this?
Auntie was of course immediately reassuring.
“Don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll soon have my little chick,” I think she was jokingly referring to my extreme yellow outfit, “all clean and spruced up.”
She helped me from my bed. I tentatively moved, desperate not to dislodge anything that was trapped in my diaper, and was relieved to see my plastic protection hadn’t leaked.
Auntie guided me over to the new, reinforced and larger padded plastic changing area and had me lay out. I kept saying how sorry I was but she just smiled and got on with the clean-up. She cautiously released the onesie and the vinyl pants snaps, which revealed the fabric diaper looking like it had been through several muddy puddles. It was discoloured and I closed my eyes trying not to think of the horror I supposed was waiting for auntie once she unpinned the soggy thing.
“OK Poppet everything is alright. Don’t worry, auntie will see to it.”
Her reassurance was constant but the guilt hung heavily, like my diaper.
“It’s natural sweetheart. Don’t be upset, even good boys have accidents so don’t let it worry you. I’ll soon have you looking as cute as always.”
The stench was overpowering to me but auntie just rolled up the offending article and put it straight into the waiting pail. Thankfully, the change station was well-equipped for such emergencies and a huge carton of wet wipes suddenly became the centre of my world as she slowly swabbed the mess from my nether region. The damp, menthol-smelling wipes were cool to my skin so came as a bit of a shock as she applied the first one.
She could see I was on the verge of tears so her encouragement was most welcome. I’d always assumed that I wouldn’t ever fill my diaper in such a way, that I would be able to control that particular side of my bodily function, but now?
The fact it was of no concern to auntie and that, judging by her words and tone, it was just something little boys do, made me less anxious. However, I didn’t really want to watch so closed my eyes and let her get on with what she had to do.
She was of course incredibly thorough, bringing in a bowl of warm water and cloth to re-mop the entire area. With all the products and supplies she needed now at a more accessible height; I was daubed in more protecting cream and covered in powder. She then grabbed a couple of disposables and taped me in before finding a large pair of opaque plastic pants to drag over it all. She went to the closet and pulled out a pink and blue onesie that had an aeroplane on the front, which snapped neatly between my legs holding the bulky structure tightly together. Then she shuffled up a pair of very loose, elasticated denim style shorts to finish. It wasn’t as smart as yesterday’s outfit but looked more playful and I suppose, juvenile but I still felt happy wearing it.
Despite the horror that had been in my diaper, it had only taken auntie a few minutes to clean me up, get me dressed and ready for my day at Rainbow. I inspected my new outfit in the mirror and thought how much more I looked the part and hoped I’d fit in better now I appeared more infantile.
By 7.30am I was already crawling around with Simon and Kate, two four year-olds, who wanted me to join them, because of the plane on my chest, to make an airport. There were a number of different sized toy planes, some you just pushed but others that made a noise and worked with a clockwork engine. We had a long runway that we swept the planes up and down, taking off and landing and asking permission from the Lego control tower when we could take our turn. It was great fun but, as more kids arrived, our noisy, busy runway got shorter and shorter so in the end we abandoned that and went to play with some toy cars in the corner where a garage was set.
The day followed the same pattern as the day before but was completely different. I made other friends and we played different games together. We coloured in, we built, we ran around, we listened to stories, we got checked, we got changed and we napped. We laughed, we cried (well I didn’t but some did) we hugged and we pretended, we pretended we were grown up, which was… fun.
At one point I was growling like a lion and chasing around after a group of other kids pretending to be very savage and attempting to eat them for my dinner. The kids were screaming in delight as I was on all-fours chasing and roaring my complete fiercest when almost five year-old Deborah came up to me, spanked me hard on my padded bottom and said very loudly.
“Naughty kitty, you’re scaring Julie.”
I was so surprised by this intervention that I sat back on my haunches and felt thoroughly chastised by this girl.
Julie was indeed looking a bit scared but all the others were laughing and liked me chasing them around but Deborah was having none of it.
“Stop scaring people.”
She wagged her finger and though I wasn’t going to cry, she seemed so grown up in her attitude that I did feel ashamed and thought if I didn’t stop she was going to spank me again as punishment.
That authority came from the fact that she didn’t wear a diaper. She was confident and potty trained, and we ‘little babies,’ still wearing our thick protection, felt she must know best.
In fact she was very proud of the fact she was toilet trained. Like all the kids at Rainbow, because of the heat, we wore as little as possible. Her pretty little flowery dress was short, so every time she spun or bent over or just played in general, everyone could see the lack of a diaper and her silky matching little panties. She wasn’t a bully, in fact she seemed to see it as her job to look out for the younger, easily scared or upset members of the group and make it right for them. She was helpful and considerate and the staff liked her because of her empathy with other kids.
As I reeled back under her wagging finger I could feel my body try and retreat into itself and without any help from me, I wet myself.
The other kids I’d been chasing obviously thought the same of Deborah as I did because they immediately settled down under her stern words and I’m sure I wasn’t the only one to let go a fearful pee.
My diaper wasn’t checked again so I had a heavy load to carry with me all the way home.
This story is written by Les Lea
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