Auntie Joan

Auntie Joan Part 13

This story is written by Les Lea

The note I delivered to auntie from Principal Thomson was a demand that she would make sure I didn’t arrive at school without protection. He was now stipulating that I also wear thicker and more ‘odour neutralising’ diapers, plus thicker and more robust rubber pants to ensure that nothing (urine or smell) leaked out. There was also the added threat that should this not be complied with he would have no alternative but to ban me from school property. My act of rebellion had really rebounded back on me and I was forced to go to school wearing a much more noticeable diaper regime than ever before.

With the appointment at the psychiatrist rapidly approaching auntie thought it best to submit to the principal’s demands (although really we had no choice). She desperately wanted to have words with him but I begged her against a confrontation. She was well aware of what I was being subjected to at school on an almost daily basis but I told her it was nothing more than what half the school had to put up with all the time… it was just the way High School operated.

I’m sure this action by Mr Thomson wasn’t a callous way of putting me in my place but the result was that this previously reasonably confident fourteen year-old student was transformed in to an embarrassed waddling fourteen year-old baby. Any self-assurance I had about wearing my protection before had been turned into something else now I had to carry a heavy and noisy display of palpable fortification around my crotch.
It had all been so different at Rainbow.

There it hadn’t mattered how big the diaper was, or who knew, or who was wearing what… you simply got on having fun. Here at High School it was an excuse for a different kind of ‘fun’ – the verbal and physical assaults were constant.

#

Something I couldn’t explain also happened at this time. Although I was well diapered for school, at night I only wore a pull-up as protection for bed and I was waking up dry. In fact, for seven days in a row I woke up to a dry pull-up yet had no idea why. Perhaps I was peeing so much at school from stress and heavily enforced protection that I just didn’t have anything left whilst I slept. Whatever the reason it was welcome.

On the weekend I thought I’d try sleeping without pull-ups. It was a strange feeling not having any thickness between my legs but I was happy that my PJs didn’t display a dark wet patch in the morning. Things were changing gradually and naturally although I can honestly say I wasn’t aware of the transition. My visits across the landing to the nursery had decreased except when auntie occasionally got me prepared for school there instead of my bedroom, which had become the main place for me to sleep or spend any time.
However, whenever I went into that colourful room I still got that same wonderful feeling in my stomach. It was like… it was like when I used to do cross country running in the UK. You know, after you’ve finished a particularly long and demanding bit of exercise, that moment when you slump down aching and exhausted relieved it’s all over. But soon that fatigue passes and a sense of achievement takes over so you’re pleased you’ve done what you’ve done and a touch of euphoria fills the body making everything worthwhile. It’s that kind of ecstasy I get on each visit.
Perhaps that’s only a good explanation to me.

Even though I wasn’t using the childish content of the nursery as often, I was still glad it was there. Auntie had returned the crib from her room so it looked even more ready for a group of kiddies to occupy at any moment. I knew my childish clothes hung in the closet, I knew the pile of diapers had all been used by me at some point over the last few months. I loved the smell of the powders and creams that were suspended in the atmosphere of this wonderful place. The array of patterned and cute plastic pants on view still lifted my spirits each time I saw them. A spark of excitement rippled across my nerve endings when I ran my fingers over their glossy surface – that vinyl charge was highly bewitching.

#

The confidence that Rainbow gave me was now hanging heavy between my legs. Bulk was the order of the day and when Nurse Jefferson changed me – I didn’t like the idea of smelling of pee all day – she made sure everything would be absorbed by the super extra padding she slipped into my new, thicker disposable. I know she had been told exactly what to do by the principal but I’d often leave her office hardly able to waddle back to class. Any progress was slow and noisy drawing more attention to my circumstances so a barrage of ‘witty’ comments followed my every step.
I was mentally beaten. I’d tried my best to withstand the daily torment but the bravado I started out with had diminished so that I was even being picked on by the juniors who saw me as an easy target. I may have hated it at the time but the private school (uniform and all) back in the UK wasn’t so bad after all.

Oliver noticed my retreat because I didn’t even try to find his company, instead I’d try and hide away as much as I could. He wasn’t having any of it and tried to get me to respond to the non-stop taunts with clever comebacks or witty responses, neither of which I felt able to do. The anger that in the past I’d been able to summon up to repel people and their ‘personalities’ had been chipped away leaving me a pathetic version of myself.
There were moments when I thought it’s what I deserved. Why would a diaper-wearing pants-wetter warrant any better treatment?

#

With only a day to go before auntie and I had to meet up with the psychiatrist things at school took a turn.
Kyle and his gang had taken a back seat as they saw everyone else piling into me. Of course it didn’t stop them but they were happy that my life was being made a misery in general so didn’t seek me out for torment, although nasty things happened when our paths did eventually cross.
It was obviously something that he and his bunch of goons had been planning for some time and at lunchtime, in the big hallway where everyone was loitering before going to the canteen, Kyle struck.

Armed with a bunch of nettles and holly leaves he rammed me up against the lockers and as his two friends held my arms so I couldn’t fight back, he pulled down my baggy pants, yanked at the thick plastic covering and grabbed the back of my diaper. With a fearful grip he pulled them back to reveal my naked bottom and shoved the nettles between my skin and the material. Then he groped around the front and proceeded to do the same to my naked genitals.

All the time he was mocking my manhood, calling me a girlie and little baby, saying how much nicer my diaper would feel once I was sat down or crawling around. His mates let me go and he pushed me to the ground, all the time laughing and taunting me. The majority of those watching were engrossed but still offering no help. I couldn’t see Oli or Yoosuf anywhere and all dignity left me as I felt the sting of the nettles piercing my soft flesh.
“Crawl for dada.”

It was not a cute expression; though his voice was filled with undisguised hate. He was certainly enjoying my discomfort and inability to do anything about it. He saw me as a defeated little baby who wet and pooped itself and shouldn’t really be in the same school as a man such as he.
He mocked my screams and tears as I sat wearing just my thick and now even thicker, torturing diaper. I was utterly defeated and could only cry as he and his cronies laughed at my dejection. No one came to my aid but as a final act he lifted my face and looked straight into my eyes.

“You’re just a piece of shit,” his words were whispered but clear. “A fucking useless little baby who thinks she’s somebody but isn’t.”
I could feel his anger through his eyes and I trembled and wet myself at the same time. I didn’t know where this was going to end and as no teacher seemed to be coming to my defence I knew he could do anything he wanted without penalty… and he knew it too.

“Get back to fucking England… we don’t want a piece of effeminate crap like you around this place.”
I had no idea where all this venom was coming from or why he’d singled me out but as he hissed out his disgust at me he was pushing down on my genitals making sure the nettles did their work.
Finally he let go laughing as if he’d just completed the best prank ever. His mates and he were high-fiving each other as they sauntered away deliriously happy with what they’d achieved.
I was stinging and hurting and wet and… and… angry.

As I slowly pulled myself up the reference to England had reawakened something which I’d been keeping locked away. The stinging nettles were somehow banished as an even greater sensation took control and, though only wearing a diaper, I launched myself down the hallway towards the posse of bullies.

#

Dr Jayne Barrows was a very affable woman. She was perhaps a shade younger than auntie but had a warmth and smile that radiated trust and, above everything else, competence. Both auntie and I were settled together on a white leather sofa and the doctor was sitting in an easy chair opposite. Auntie had done her own research online and knew a bit about Ms Barrows, there appeared to be some kind of mutual respect because the doctor seemed to know all about The Rainbow Rooms Nursery.

This time I desperately didn’t want my diaper to be a distraction so I was wearing normal underwear and normal clothes. No matter what happened I was determined that I wouldn’t do anything ‘silly’ and that if I needed to pee I would seek out a bathroom somewhere. I wasn’t very comfortable, though auntie had done her best to put me at ease, suggesting that perhaps a pull-up might be advantageous under my boxers.

No, I wanted to do this differently from the last time we visited a shrink and besides, I think I had more to worry about than just possibly wetting myself.
After a few minutes of general chat the doctor got down to the business in hand.
“So Dean, why did you try to suffocate Kyle Connersby?”

#

The anger that gripped me was like nothing else I had ever experienced. Even the time when I was banned from the boxing ring didn’t come close to what was seething in my head and my mind was only focused on one thing – revenge.

The speed that I attained as I ran down the hallway towards my victim was surprisingly fast considering I had a huge and full diaper to contend with but at that point the three were still unaware of my speedy approach. A shriek of warning came too late as I pulled back my right leg and with all the force I could muster, together with my hurtling forward momentum, I kicked out at the back of Kyle’s knee. He’d turned slightly when he heard the belated alert as my deployed rigid leg made contact and a satisfying yelp of pain followed an even more satisfying ‘crunch’.
The shock was obvious and the pain even more so as he rolled forward screaming in agony holding his injured leg. But as I got to my feet Smithy (one of his posse) was already advancing on me with a fist ready to knock my brains out. Whatever adrenalin was coursing through my body had made me quick-witted and I was able to parry his punch. As he stumbled forward to lash out once more I succeeded in using my elbow to deliver a stinging blow to his nose that made the big man stagger back in hurt surprise.

Wilko Wilkinson, his other goon, was a bit slower but had eventually managed to get his thoughts together and, seeing his team mate down and injured, launched himself at me. At that precise second Oliver inserted himself between him and me and his flailing hands managed to get caught up in the straps of Oli’s backpack, which he just happened to be holding up at that moment. Wilko’s hands were quickly entangled so Oli shoved the bag back sending the angry but confused footballer flying to the floor. It was followed through with a surreptitious knee to the groin and the warning not to get up again if he didn’t want something worse. By then he had been surrounded by other unhappy kids baying for blood. I was unaware of this and only pieced it together from what I was told later.

#

Now I knew boys from this particular sport were not afraid of pain but the fact that a junior had perpetrated this assault I think had not only surprised them but un-nerved them a little. Yoosuf was making sure that Smithy didn’t get up anytime soon and Oli had miraculously neutralised Wilko. Some who surrounded the fallen teammates saw this as an opportunity to assert themselves and angrily lashed out.
Where there had been a deathly hush in the hallway all hell had now broke loose not least of all as Kyle lay screaming out for assistance and holding his battered (and possibly broken) leg. Through his scrunched up and tearful face I saw the hate in his eyes as he yelled how I’d pay for what had happened but I just pulled down my full diaper and walked over to the prone and angry senior.
“Here,” I shouted over his groans of pain, “you’ve been obsessed by my diaper you may as well have it.”
I threw it into his face, nettles and all.
I followed through, launching myself bodily (and naked) across the space between us, winding him as I landed heavily on his chest.
“You’ve been desperate to get into my pants since I arrived at this awful place well, this is what’s in them, they’re yours now.”
I spread the soaked contents into his face forcing it into his mouth as he tried to regain his breath, rubbing delightedly as I heard him choking on the contents.
It was at this moment that a teacher intervened and hauled me off the stricken star footballer.
I stood naked, hairless and unapologetic as I shook the teacher’s hands off and turned to see who it was. Yes, the one who’d made himself scarce when I was being assaulted all those months back. The look of utter contempt I gave him was withering and for a moment he was a little afraid of what might happen next.
Meanwhile, I noticed all the camera phones (that were forbidden on school property) were out and filming the proceedings so, before the authorities could do anything about what had taken place, those images were already out in the public domain… they trended rapidly.
‘Bully gets diapered’
‘Suck on this’
‘Football captain gets retrained’
Some of the headlines on social media were disgusting but the outcome was the same…
I was immediately suspended.

#

The weather in Kansas had only changed slightly from being very hot to being hot. However, as we sat in Doctor Barrow’s office the clouds were gathering and promised a deluge. I didn’t know if this was some kind of prediction, though I wouldn’t have been surprised. She had informed auntie not to interrupt whilst I told my side of the story and I nervously fidgeted wondering just what my fate was going to be.

After the event at school, and I’d been unceremoniously marched naked to the principal’s office, I sat waiting for the furore that seemed to have blown up to die down. An ambulance arrived to transfer Kyle to hospital, whilst Nurse Jefferson had her work cut out tending to the wounds of Wilko and Smithy, not all of which had been inflicted by me. In fact I’d heard that one or two other bullies had been attacked by groups of fed-up kids inspired by my actions. Again, I had no proof of that it was only something Oliver mentioned when he returned some of my ripped clothes as I waited.

The principal’s secretary had ushered my friend away pretty quickly, I’m sure she was worried that we might be plotting something else. However, though I had my pants and jumper back, I felt good being naked so despite the secretary asking me to cover up I remained that way. I could hear her on the phone summoning auntie and calling one or two other families, although I wasn’t sure exactly who. A couple of teacher’s looked in with faces creased in anger and amazement, whilst the football coach screamed abuse at me for injuring his star player and threatening all manner of reprisals. I looked at him in total derision not allowing his bullying tactics to work on me. However, I kept my counsel and sat quietly not believing what had just happened.

#

When things had died down a little but before auntie arrived, the principal rushed past into his office and told me to get dressed. I took no notice of him, for some reason I thought being naked was more of a statement than being clothed. When he saw that I wasn’t doing what he said he summoned the nurse to bring diapers and fit them before he would speak to me.
For the first time since I’d met her Nurse Jefferson seemed ill at ease around me. She came armed with disposables and padding but was nervous about putting them on. As she approached I looked her right in the eye and said “NO”, perhaps more forcefully than I’d intended. The result was she shuffled back out of the office as auntie arrived.
Having nodded to me on the way through, and told to put some pants on at least, she breezed into the Mr Thomson’s office, brushing aside his secretary and launched into a damning indictment of his leadership at the school.

Auntie very rarely raises her voice but she wasn’t going to allow the principal to shout her down on this one. She knew all that had previously happened because I’d told her of my run-ins with the bullies. However, she didn’t know that my actions had sent a senior to hospital so that came as a bit of a surprise. Still, even with this news she continued to harangue the principal and the culture of victimization he’d appeared to foster.

#

When she came out she was obviously very angry but then again, so was Mr Thomas. She saw the nurse hanging by the door with a thick disposable in her hand and looked at me, I was still naked, and she asked if I needed a diaper. Surprisingly, after all that had happened, I hadn’t wet myself so shook my head.
“Thank you Nurse Jefferson but I don’t think we’ll need your services today.”
Auntie was polite.
Her look of unease drifted into a thankful half-smile as she made her exit.
“Put some pants on Dale, you’re not impressing anyone showing off your genitals.”
It was a defining moment. Auntie was having a joke at my expense and we giggled together as I slipped on my pants and struggled into the jumper. Once I’d finished this operation she hugged me tightly and ran her hand through my short hair and said it was time to go home.
“What did he say?” I enquired as we walked through the now empty hallways.
“Well, you’re suspended and I’m banned from ever setting foot in his school again.”
“But, but… didn’t he summon you?”

“Yes, well, he’s a little upset at the moment. Apparently there’s a big game coming up this weekend and they’ve lost their star player… someone has nobbled him.”
I wasn’t sure if auntie wasn’t taking this all too lightly, especially when she added.
“I think their opponents might well be sending you a gift basket.”

#

Dr Jayne Barrows sat stoically taking in my side of the story, occasionally writing something down on her pad but generally just listening. I was surprised just how much I opened up but I think my actions had been so severe I needed to make a case for doing what I did. I was glad auntie was there because I felt safe when she was around.
Of course, the incident wasn’t the only thing she wanted to know about and once again I found myself reliving my childhood (or lack of it).
“…and just how did that make you feel ?”

Which appeared to be the standard response to anything I said, so, I had to explain my various bursts of anger, reclusiveness and… denial.
However, after the previous psychiatrist I didn’t want to make matters worse and continued to explain my feelings and thoughts. My anger at my parents, their stupid death (which I now realised wasn’t just the result of some arbitrary bomb but that they had been targeted because of the government job they did).

#

At the time the powers in Washington had laid it on pretty thick that my parents had been the innocent victims of a terrorist attack. They had been on vacation and just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. However, through what auntie had told me and the number of high ranking people at their funeral I could now make a slightly different judgement about what exactly happened.

Something else that auntie had recently told me was that, via an intermediary, the ‘White House’ had offered to send me to one of the most prestigious private schools in Washington to complete my education. This had been raised at the time of the funeral but my hate for the British private school and auntie’s dislike of privilege made the offer a none-starter.
However, auntie had disclosed this piece of information because of the bullying and in case I wanted a way out. The fact it would mean me leaving her, something I couldn’t even contemplate, sent me once again into a bit of a panic wondering if they could just send me away without her approval. She said as my legal guardian nothing could or would be done without her say so, and more importantly, that any decision made would be down to me.
She wanted to give options.

#

Dr Barrows was already well briefed and knew exactly the right questions to get me going. There were times when I held auntie’s hand, cried into her shoulder as she held me so as to ease the pain. She was my strength and comfort and I loved her all the more for the emotional ride I was on and her constant unquestioning support. At times I missed not having my diaper wrapped snugly around me as I delved into some poignant aspect of my life. There were times when I had to hold back the flow that I could feel building as I also built to some revelation or other. I excused myself a couple of time, desperate to use the bathroom and not wet the front of my khaki pants.

Then, as I zipped up glad I’d managed such a little part of my life I also realising I was missing something I enjoyed… my diaper. It made me wonder if, after this process was complete, would I be missing much of what I’d come now to enjoy. The principal thought I needed to expunge those ‘angry demons’ but I wondered – at what cost?
Fortunately, Dr Barrows seemed to understand where auntie was coming from with her initial course of action to give me a loving home where I could experience some kind of childhood. She appeared to understand my anger and my belief that I was better off without other people. I saw on her face there was an empathy I wasn’t expecting.

She thought my wetting from an early age had been symptomatic of so much stress, self -imposed or otherwise that it bubbled (we chuckled at this use of the word for some reason) to the fore at moments of inner psychological anxiety. There may have been no obvious reason for it but deep within, there was a problem and urination was the outward expression of it, a ‘safety valve’ was the way Ms Barrows described it.

#

Of course I am paraphrasing the doctor’s report because she was also damning about the culture at High School that allowed such a situation to arise. No one came out of it with any credit; well, that is, apart from auntie. Her part in my life had definitely been for the better and I was glad that she was recognised for it. However, as no local school would take me as a pupil I had to rethink the offer about going to Washington. Auntie put in a call and found a school, perhaps not so well thought of, but a private school nonetheless, in the state. With ‘Washington’ picking up the bill and letters from some very important people qualifying my entrance to that establishment; I started mid-term at a new boarding school.

#

The court case High School and the Connersby’s attempted to bring regarding the assault was dropped because of a counter claim my high-powered Washington legal team threatened to retaliate with. They pointed out that once they’d finished with the publicity and media coverage about how a school senior tormented and tortured a 9th grader who, incidentally, had just lost his parents under extremely tragic circumstances, Kyle would be lucky if he got accepted into any sports programme or institute of further education. Seeing how they were out-gunned, and that I’d no longer be a student at the same place as he was, they felt it in everyone’s interest to forget the entire thing.

#

The new school was different to the one in the UK. It was less bound by its centuries of tradition, being only in existence for around fifty years, and appeared more involved in students expressing themselves in a myriad of technical and social ways. Even though I was a boarder, I never felt the constraints or unhappiness I’d experienced in the UK.I wasn’t the most sociable person around but at least I’d learned to mix with others now. I also didn’t mind the uniform, which was smart without being over-the-top and I felt much more at ease and able to fit in more.
I knew I could now re-invent myself, well, in truth; the kids at Rainbow had made sure I could do that. I’d found a friend in Oliver and realised I liked having a friend and went out of my way to see if I could make more.

Also, and probably most importantly, I was relaxed about it all. I think this was because I knew auntie was relatively nearby. I was boarding only about two hundred miles away so… she was a loving beacon for me to go to if I needed her and she continued to be my motivation for everything I did or wanted to do. I hadn’t wanted to leave her but auntie being auntie she saw this as a terrific opportunity and convinced me it was one I’d regret if I didn’t at least try it.

However, I did miss Oliver and Yoosuf but we kept in touch via social media so it wasn’t too bad. Oliver had been voted leader of the student body under the new regime that the authorities had brought in after Principal Thomson was fired. The school was changing although I wasn’t going to be there to enjoy that positive action.
I never took my desire for diapers to the new school. I’d miss them but found I was a lot more involved in other activities to give them much thought whilst there.
The other thing was – I no longer wet.

Thankfully, I returned home as often as I could, even some weekends and head for my favourite place. After stripping out of my teenage gear in my room, I’d then move over to the nursery and wait for auntie to come change and dress me as she knew I wanted.
A weekend in a thick diaper and kiddie clothes always had us both giggling in pleasure as well as it setting me up for what lay ahead.
It also made attending school as a teenager more bearable and the link with my loving auntie… unbreakable.

This story is written by Les Lea

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Chapter 12

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Auntie Joan Part 12

This story is written by Les Lea

Auntie Joan had received confirmation that our appointment with Dr Jayne Barrows, another psychologist, would happen in four weeks. Why it had taken so long to arrange I wasn’t sure (I suppose it showed the mental health of the state) anyway, that meant that for the next month at least I would have to continue to wear my protection for school.

The principal insisted that I was still checked every morning and that any changes (should I wet) would be supervised by the nurse on duty, I was not to be allowed to change myself. I assumed this was some fear the school had of being sued should I develop a rash (or something worse) whilst in their ‘care’. I didn’t mind, I was used to having others take charge of my diaper change and I quite liked the fuss that surrounded this particular action.

#

Auntie had made it into an art. The care and attention paid to each part of the process always left me wriggling in pleasure. I know at fourteen I should be over that but in truth, it was the one thing that held me completely under its spell. The clothing… the childish clothing… was all well and good but the consideration auntie gave to my wellbeing with each wipe of the cloth, each tender touch as she applied the creams and lotions, the gentle loving sprinkle of the baby powder over my genitals and bum, were the things that made it all so special. The final firm fitting of the diaper was all part of a bonding experience I particularly enjoyed and so… was in no hurry to forego.

#

From the start Auntie Joan had let me go at my own pace, though I hadn’t realised it at the time, and to make my own decisions. She knew what I wanted, what I needed, and let me, with her encouragement, find what worked. The few months I’d spent as a little kid in her charge had been a complete revelation. I began to see things in a completely different way. My anger decreased, my self-imposed exile from the rest of the human race was broken and I’m sure I’d grown in such a way that my mind had been recalibrated. If this was what being ‘born again’ felt like, no wonder religious people praised it so much. Now I wasn’t religious in the least but this ‘glow’ from within was undeniable and it did indeed feel like something very special had happened deep inside.
For me, auntie was the best psychologist in the world, even if she didn’t have a bunch of diplomas and degrees after her name.
She’d rebuilt a fairly damaged boy and given him a future that wasn’t on a path of anger, isolation and possible self-destruction. I now found I had options that I would never have considered only

a few months back. The diapers, as a simple wetting precaution at first, had proved to be the catalyst for my regeneration and I owed that simple piece of clothing everything I did now… and perhaps would do in future.

#

I’d worried about Kyle, the Hulk (as I thought of him) and the pleasure he’d taken in seeing my juvenile and diapered status, I began to ponder how he would set about using this to his ends. At the time, and despite just being changed into a fresh and dry disposable, the confrontation in the nurse’s office had un-nerved me and I’d wet myself instantly. So, for the rest of the day I was walking around with a very bloated diaper between my legs and decided I’d just put up with the inconvenience rather than return to Nurse Jefferson. I certainly didn’t want to meet him or any of his team buddies in that state of wetness.

I’d had few ‘run-ins’ with this type of person and wasn’t sure how to react. In England, if you felt threatened by anyone or anything at school, you simply discussed it with a senior or teacher (whoever you were more comfortable talking with) and the problem would be resolved. Over those first few weeks at High School I hadn’t detected that type of intervention. Intimidation seemed rife and it appeared it was up to the individual to sort it out, make themselves invisible or just put up with it, whatever that ‘it’ might be. I knew jocks were a closely bonded group and they would mindlessly support each other so expected ‘The Hulk’ wouldn’t be the only one I’d have dealings with in the coming days.

#

I discussed what had happened with Oliver. Like me he saw possible problems ahead but was of the firm belief that telling a teacher or the principal was not the way to proceed. Because of what I’d experienced in the UK I couldn’t believe that a principal, or anyone else in a responsible position, wouldn’t want to nip such intimidation in the bud. However, Oliver just told me to “Look around”.

He was right to underline what I’d already established; it was going on everywhere, openly and with no interference from anyone. If you defended some poor picked on junior, pretty soon you also became the object for intimidation. So far Oli and I had flown ‘under the radar’ (Oli’s words) but we did notice that Yoosuf had to cope with a great deal of jealousy from various groups of boys.
He was good-looking, dressed well, confident and, with his dark looks, had a mysterious air to him that many at the school found both scary and exciting. For many generations his family had been part of the ruling classes in the Middle East, now there were barbed comments and graffiti calling him a ‘terrorist’. He tried his best to laugh these excesses off but I could see that at times he was struggling. He was subject to quite a number of personal provocations from seniors and junior thugs alike.

#

Typical of Oliver he was well aware of what was going on and despite the fact he was no ‘hard case from the block’ he hovered in Yoosuf’s proximity in case he needed any kind of support. He still maintained that our small group of three newcomers should stick together and that we should support one and other. On more than one occasion I saw him deftly insert himself between Yoosuf and some adversary and gently, almost as if it wasn’t planned, ease Yoosuf away.

For some reason Oliver didn’t attract a negative reaction. He was friendly with everyone and despite being quite clever, never flaunted his superior knowledge and abilities over others. I suppose it helped that he never looked afraid of anybody, no matter how big or threatening they might appear. His humour, quick and clever talk and incredible affability made him instantly likeable. Also, he held his ground so as a result was not pushed around or picked on. Those who crumbled became victims.

Whereas, Yoosuf and I were obviously different – his Persian looks and my ‘English’ accent, Oliver just mixed in well with the locals. Even after a very short time he was already well-liked by his classmates and had new friends who sought his company. I think when he hung around with either Yoosuf or me it put some people off a little, although I was still socialising and interacting more than I’d ever done before.

#

The day after my encounter with the Hulk it started… and it started with a grope to my padded bottom.
“She’s well diapered… but probably wet… so no doubt needs to be.”
He was talking to a couple of his equally hulking mates when we passed in the hallway and as I was retrieving some books from my locker.
“She’s the little baby I was telling you guys about…”
The molestation was forceful and I ended up being pushed up against the lockers as he patted my bottom and continued his vulgar juvenile comments.
“Hairless and diapered… just like my shitty baby sister.”
Those around looked on wondering what all this was about.
“Yes siree, she sure has a fine ass…” He continued his fondling of my diapered bum.
His mates found this hilarious and were laughing as if he’d just told the funniest joke ever.
“Perhaps she’ll show us her little diapee when she goes bye-byes… or our little baby here gets nursey to change her?”
With one final swat I was left half crammed into my locker and feeling shocked at what had taken place and that I hadn’t had chance to respond. When I finally extricated myself he and his mates were already gone and there was a look of both pity and pleasure from the assorted group who’d witnessed the event.
I looked around the assembled faces and saw that there wasn’t one of them who would have intervened on my behalf and I even saw a teacher, who obviously having witnessed what had taken place and seemed embarrassed that I’d noticed him looking on, quickly made himself scarce.

#

Other than in the boxing ring at school in the UK I don’t think I’d ever had to fight anyone. Especially after a few months at Rainbow I simply wasn’t equipped to combat aggression. In my head I thought I’d be fearless but in truth, I was shaking like a leaf. The other result of this altercation was that I’d severely wet my diaper but once again didn’t want to give him the satisfaction (whether he was aware of it or not) that’s how my bladder reacted to such confrontation. I could feel the very bloated disposable filling out my pants but would have to wait until break to do anything about it, for now I still had class.

At break, instead of going to the nurse I went to the principal’s office to lodge a complaint about Kyle’s behaviour. I got the brush off with an “I’ll speak with him”. There was nothing more I could do and the principal seemed to want me out of his office as quickly as possible. Whether that was from being worried I’d poo all over the place or that he just didn’t want bothering with, to him, such trivial matters, I’m not sure but I was speedily dismissed.

#

However, once home and in a safe environment the more I thought about it I was sure I’d be able to cope. I was in two minds whether to let auntie know but she had been fretting since I’d gone to High School that something like this might happen so I decided I should mention it… I hated keeping secrets from her.
“Well, my diapers are no longer a secret.” I announced with a shrug.
“Oh Doodle I am sorry… hope it wasn’t too traumatic…”
I shrugged again and told her exactly what had happened.
As always she listened carefully and I could see various emotions passing over her face and began to wonder if I’d done the right thing in bringing it up.
“Oh darling, that’s a terrible experience. Do you want me to speak with the principal?”
“No auntie it’s… fine… I’m sure all kids have to go through this type of thing and, if The Hulk wants to use my diapers as ammunition,” I smiled at the idea of my diapers being used as ammo, “there’s going to be very little anyone can do about it.”
“Well dear, keep me informed, I need to know what’s going on with my sweet Doodle.”
She gave me a hug.

“Besides, you have a legitimate reason for wearing them and I say… screw anyone who has a problem with that.”
I was surprised at auntie’s use of such a word and it set us both off giggling like three year-olds.

#

Now I could see certain aspects of my life in perspective, the idea of anyone ridiculing me for wearing diapers was not going to gain any embarrassment at my expense. If needed I would let the entire school know I wore protection… and even more so… was not in the least bit troubled by that fact. So, if he, or anyone else, thought they could benefit from any attempt to humiliate me in front of others I would have to play things on my terms and not theirs.
Alas, the whole team seemed to now be in on the ‘joke’.

I hardly went anywhere without one of them patting my bum or pulling at the rear of my pants “Just checking baby’s still dry” and gleefully saying babyish things as they passed by. Of course, their actions meant that it was a signal for others to act the same way and before long I could hardly step in the hallway or move to a different classroom without a barrage of comments and assaults. The name ‘diaper boy’ followed me everywhere; unfortunately it was never said as if referring to a Super Hero.

#

What started out as ‘playful’ banter got turned up several notches after the Bronco’s worst defeat of the early season. It appeared that I was the person the wounded team could lash out at and those ‘playful’ thumps became much more painful and the attacks more humiliating.

Despite my continuing complaints the principal just didn’t want to know and, although he’d had a word with Kyle, nothing changed apart from him getting more and more aggressive. This had a knock on effect because I was continually wetting myself and every time I went to the nurse’s office, one of the team seemed to be ready to ridicule me in front of her. Nurse Jefferson took absolutely no notice of them but there again, she just didn’t seem aware of the damage their actions were doing to me and so, resentment settled in and I stopped going to her. My diaper would be full and leaking by the end of the day, through natural causes and through my distressed bladder.

#

My impotent anger was building and although I asked auntie to make sure my diaper had extra padding each morning I wasn’t sleeping well at nights and would wake up in the same state as when I returned home – soaking and irritable. She was adamant about speaking to the principal but I begged her not to intervene as I desperately wanted to sort this problem out for myself.
After one particularly aggressive de-panting that left me wearing little more than my drenched diaper and ripped plastic pants (and perhaps could have been a lot worse if Oliver and Yoosuf hadn’t

come to my rescue) I was quite devastated. There were looks of derision and sympathy from those who witnessed the event but no one of any authority stepped in to stop it.
As I stood in the main school hallway in an obviously soaked diaper anyone who didn’t know before were now left in no doubt that ‘weird English kid’ wears pissy diapers. My pants had disappeared with the football team and I had to scramble around trying to find something else to cover my shame. Some girls offered me a skirt, but whether this was out of kindness or a further opportunity to embarrass me I was in no mood to find out. Thankfully Oliver arrived with a pair of gym shorts that I gratefully pulled over my demonstrably swollen diaper.

My anger had returned. That anger that had me thrown out of the boxing club back in the UK and the one I’d reserved for my ‘thoughtless’ parents was bubbling in the pit of my stomach. It wasn’t helped by the fist that had connected there earlier from one of Kyle’s goons and, as there wasn’t going to be any adult intervention, I was going to have to sort it out for myself. Somehow I didn’t think that a polite note, or even a confrontation of the principal by auntie, would produce results so I decided that this diaper-wearing little baby was going to seek revenge.

#

Throughout my time at Rainbow I’d never been angry. I’d had toys taken from me by other toddlers and felt occasionally petulant but these feelings passed surprisingly quickly as I’d immerse myself (with the help of the staff) in some other enthralling game. However, my Rainbow time was now definitely at an end and although I still wore protection to sleep in I was determined to be a clever fourteen year-old student and not a wimpy, fourteen year-old victim.

As auntie changed me and got me ready for bed she could tell I had something on my mind. I wanted to discuss it with her but was afraid that she would try and talk me out of my course of action. I also didn’t want her worrying, but of course she would. I slipped a pair of baggy boxers over my night time diapers and crawled into bed determined not to let Kyle and his cronies continue to infect my dreams. Auntie waited a few extra seconds at my bedroom door. I knew she knew that I had things on my mind and hoped that I would share them but this time I needed to do it without her help.

#

My dream was not quite what I anticipated. Indeed, not a sign of Kyle and his gang appeared but a potted history of my time at 46 Glendew Lane rolled out before me. The first time I wet myself in public, the first time auntie suggested I return to diapers, the quick way I embraced the entire idea of a return to some kind of positive childhood…
The dream continued and at every turn I saw how reliant on auntie I’d been, how I was determined to be her ‘best little boy’, why I had taken to diapers so easily and come to rely on them for

comfort and safety. The dream was an endless procession of why I had become what I’d become and the love that had guided that entire journey.
Auntie Joan.

Towards the end of my dream things got a bit more confusing. A few figures from my past began to interrupt proceedings. The feeling of happiness was being disturbed by teachers and pupils I had known in the past and who, despite their best intentions of friendship, I had snubbed. A tangle of emotions, and as it turned out, anger at myself, was eating fiercely into my subconscious and draining any comfort I’d been experiencing up until the moment when I awoke with a start.
I wasn’t in the nursery, I hadn’t actually slept in there for a couple of weeks, but, as I woke up I desperately needed all those comforting signs that I associated with ‘happiness’. At that moment my bedroom felt austere and unwelcoming. The blues, greys and blacks echoing my mood and I wanted sunshine, colour, cartoons and fluffy animals. I threw back the covers and discovered a different sensation, I was dry.

I didn’t quite believe it as I hadn’t had a dry morning for some time. I slowly pulled down my boxers and tentatively ran my hand over the slick plastic cover, it definitely didn’t feel bloated. I slipped them down and was surprised to find that, although the diaper had bunched up a little, it was completely dry. Shocked, I unpinned it and set it on my desk before wandering to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

#

My spirits rose as I showered and I thought about not wearing protection to school. I knew that I had to be inspected but I thought about ignoring that particular instruction and not visiting the nurse before attending class.
Back in my room I searched for a pair of boxers and decided not to even wear a pair of pull-ups under them. When auntie came in and saw me wearing underwear and not protection I could see from her look she didn’t think it was a wise move.
“I want to try a day without protection.”
I was both explaining my stance and appealing for auntie’s understanding.
“OK Doodle… but you know that Mr Thomson has already said you need to be protected…”
“Yes, but, er, I don’t intend to see Nurse Jefferson, er, or the principal, I’ll just go straight to class.”
She raised her eyebrows and left the final decision to me.

#

Half way through the first period of English I was summoned to the principal’s office.
“Court.” Mr Thomson looked fatigued and annoyed.
“Yes sir.” I maintained my composure and politeness.
“Did you see the nurse this morning… as per my instructions?”
“No sir.”
“Why not?”
“Because sir, I’m fed up with being treated as a child and it’s affecting…”
“So,” he interrupted my flow and I could see he was heading towards a showdown “you have decided, unbidden by me, to take the rules I have set down and what, just ignore them?”
“My wearing diapers to class sir has resulted in bullying and…”
“Tell me Mr Court why you were wearing diapers in the first place.”
He had me and he knew it.
Reluctantly I had to give him the answer he already knew.
“Because I occasionally wet myself sir.”
It was a reply without the bravado I would have liked.
“Wet… and MORE,” He emphasised the more.
“And do you no longer wet yourself Mr Court?”
“Erm, er, not as much… er, “

This was a complete lie because since Kyle and his chums had adopted me as their punch bag I’d been wetting constantly.
“Well let me tell you Mr Court, I get complaints in here every day about you smelling of urine…”
This took the wind out of my sails.

He watched as my face flushed, it was something I hadn’t noticed but obviously others had.
“… but I knew that was something you couldn’t help because of your ‘problem’ and you were doing your best, by wearing protection, to limit such a dilemma.”
He explained as if he was defending my predicament.

My argument about being bullied had just flown out the window as I tried to think of why I never thought about the smell of my wet diapers.
My eyes were searching his carpet for some escape. I wasn’t expecting this and I felt stupid, inferior and at a huge disadvantage.
I shuffled my feet.

I’m sure he could recognise my uncertainty but firmly laid down his rules once more.
“Now you have a choice. Go to the nurse immediately and get yourself appropriately protected or go home and explain to your aunt why I will not allow you back into my school.”
I certainly didn’t want to alarm auntie, besides she had more or less inferred this might happen so I didn’t see I had an alternative.
“Yes sir.” I whispered.
“Yes sir what?” He wanted me to spell out his instructions.
“I’ll go to the nurse sir”.
“And?”

He was determined I should know who was in charge.
“I will not come to school again without the appropriate protection.”
“Now get out and don’t waste my time… again.”
He was obviously referring to my other complaints as well.
I was in no position to protest against that comment so just had to accept his decision.
“If I don’t hear from Nurse Jefferson every morning you will not be allowed to enter this school again. Do you understand?”
I nodded. “Sir”.
As I left his office I felt the tears and my crushed rebellion fill my heart like a dead weight and grudgingly made my way to the nurse.

#

Nurse Jefferson was just finishing on the phone when I knocked on her door. She had a look of disdain that is normally kept for silly little kids who should know better but still do something stupid.
“Well young man.”

I was expecting a lecture about my non-attendance but she just pointed towards the changing bench and told me to take off my pants and boxers.
Thankfully I’d remained dry all the way through the principal’s speech and had managed to visit the toilet before I arrived at the nurse’s office. I was hopeful I’d remain dry for the rest of the day.
“Last week Miss Marsden left some things for you, just in case of emergencies but I am under strict instructions from Principal Thomson to make sure you are well padded, leak-proof and… smell like a daisy.”

I’m not sure if “smell like a daisy” were his words but I got the meaning that the thin plastic pants auntie had left with the nurse were going to be changed for the thicker, more robust rubber pair she was holding.

#

After all the preliminaries she fitted me in a very generous and extra padded disposable before adding the super smooth but inflexible rubber pants, it felt like I’d been concreted into my protection. I’d like to say it was a comforting sensation but it wasn’t, the elastic cuff held the top of my thighs tightly and irritated me because they were old and worn. Some of the rubber was slightly cracked so it nipped at my bare skin when she made sure none of my diaper showed past the seal. The waistband was equally tight and despite the white rubber being very glossy the durable material creaked with even the slightest movement. I sounded like I needed oiling.

As I stood up but before I’d been able to put my pants on the principal’s secretary walked in unannounced and gave me a letter with the instruction that I had to deliver it to auntie. As she left the door was wide open and it was just my luck that a couple of seniors were there for some reason and saw my newly diapered state. Despite my protests Nurse Jefferson didn’t seem in a hurry to close it, whilst insisting I put my pants on and return to class immediately. You can probably guess the names I was subjected to as I eventually left her office. So, although I’d intended not to be embarrassed by wearing diapers, the fact was, at that moment I was extremely self-conscious and ashamed.

I think a great part of that shame was because I knew I’d brought this on myself by refusing to wear my diaper as instructed that morning. The nurse’s attitude had been correct, I had been a silly little kid who should know better but still did something stupid.

#

Walking at normal speed produced a very obvious rustling sound but slowing down made it look like I’d had some kind of accident as my legs were slightly bowed by the thick padding. I was awkward and I’d never felt that my protection looked so noticeable before. I was uncomfortable so it may have been that I was just too aware of what I was wearing but I noticed that Oliver’s mates suddenly found better things to do when I appeared on the scene.
Oliver was very supportive as expected and even tried to make a joke about my ‘special containment’ (as he referred to it). Unfortunately, everyone else, and not just the football team, decided that I was now total fair game and I received a barrage of comments and abuse. Even though the nurse had covered me in baby powder and “sweet smelling oil” (Nurse Jefferson’s words), quite a few people either could, or pretended, that they could smell pee… my pee and poop.
Now everyone knew about my diapers I wished they didn’t.

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 11

Chapter 13

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Auntie Joan Part 11

This story is written by Les Lea

Strange to say but Rainbow and the private school in the UK had more in common than I thought. It certainly wasn’t the uniform (ha-ha) but attitude; neither tolerated bullying to take place.
At Rainbow, if there was an argument or some conflict (usually over a toddler wanting to play with a toy someone else was already enjoying) it was frowned upon by the adults who would settle the disagreement by speaking with the aggressive party and not condone such behaviour. Often the dispute would end with a “Sowwy” and both parties would end up playing happily together.
At the school in England a similar tactic was enforced (apart from the “Sowwy”), bullying was efficiently discouraged, with the older students taking it as part of their function not to allow such behaviour to go unchallenged. As a result, bullying in both institutions was not prevalent and if it happened, was quickly neutralised.

#

School settled down fairly quickly. I had my early morning checks with Nurse Jefferson and she would call the principal to confirm I was well-padded so, once she got the “OK” from him I was allowed to go to class.
My new, self-imposed uniform of long pants and un-tucked in shirt or long jumper, more or less hid the bulkiness from view so wasn’t a source of comment. I did smell sweet from the baby powder but I suppose everyone had their own ‘smell’ so mine wasn’t thought of as anything in particular. The crinkle and creak of my plastic pants was there but nobody appeared to be that concerned. All in all I thought I was fitting in surprisingly OK.

#

As I’ve mentioned, wearing diapers doesn’t worry me in the least and even after I’d told Oliver the reason he was still my friend. In fact, the more I told him the closer we became. Over those first few days, after auntie had explained that I might actually enjoy sharing with a friend, I never shut up.
Oliver was keen to hear everything and was a terrific listener and a guy who didn’t hide his own emotions. When I told him about my parent’s dramatic death he appeared more upset than I’d been. Oddly enough, his reaction set me off and I think for the first time I cried for my parents and not for myself.
This, I realised too late, was a mistake because emotionally at least, my bladder was in complete sympathy and let flow. My diaper gave me that warming glow and Oli wondered why I’d gone quiet but for some reason this felt different. I looked at Oli and realised that he was the first person I’d ever really shared such a deep moment with. Of course there was auntie but Oli was… a… friend, my first real friend, and I wasn’t sure how to react. Why I should have been nervous I have no idea but he gave me a gentle hug and smiled so I knew all was well.
I didn’t visit the nurse immediately but knew eventually I’d have to go and get changed. Despite the lotions and powder she applied, auntie had warned me about wearing a wet diaper for too long so a quick change was advised.

#

Oliver did say something that I found arresting. After hearing that my wetting apparently increased after my parent’s deaths, perhaps, he thought, I’d been affected more than I understood, maybe even subconsciously. Now where a fourteen year-old could get such an insight from I do not know but it certainly set me thinking.

#

My new best friend was a constant amazement. Because of his working class background I had assumed, very wrongly as it turned out, that he’d struggle in class. Not a bit of it. Like me he was way ahead of just about everyone else in the 9th Grade. However, unlike me his was a natural intelligence, whereas mine was bought and paid for at special private learning facilities. In those first few days he was a constant surprise and I began to rely on his friendship pretty heavily as I negotiated my way through an unfamiliar educational system.
For those first few days wearing my protection I managed to remain almost dry, what little trickled out was easily soaked up so wasn’t noticeable. However, after that emotional discussion involving the death of my parents, and Oliver’s comment, the deluge was intense and I was really glad that auntie had made sure I wore some very strong rubber leak-proof pants that day. I don’t know if she gets a sixth sense about this type of thing but she had me well protected when I needed it most.

#

Nurse Jefferson I think still regarded me as a little ‘special’ and treated me as such. On the few occasions I had to visit her she was all smiles and cheerfulness and definitely talked down to me but not in a patronising way. Now, you may have thought I resented this but in fact, it made me laugh. She certainly wasn’t like auntie when she changed me but she was nothing like the other ‘nurses’ who had tended to my wet diapers in the past. She was fun, helpful and sympathetic… if on a slightly different level.
She would often engulf me in powder.
“Just to keep you smelling sweet.”

And take some delight making sure I was well tucked in and my plastic pants didn’t inflate too much as she pulled them over the disposable. She was keen that I wasn’t embarrassed by anything she did. However, sometimes she added a separate thick layer of padding if I’d had a particularly thorough soaking.
“Just to be on the safe side.”

She’d say with a final pat to my cushioned bottom. I’d thank her for all the attention (my English public school politeness coming to the fore again) and she would say, “Thank you your Lordship” and chuckle to herself.

#

Thanks to Oliver (I hardly had much contact with Yoosuf, who, as suspected, had become a prime target for a lot of girls, which he loved), I was able to integrate a lot easier than I’d originally thought I would. A few of the other students had also been to Rainbow Rooms Nursery as kids so auntie was well known and despite my unorthodox first few months in town, once folk knew I was her nephew other people started to talk to me.
I had been noticed around town in my ‘childish’ clothes and some of my peers (and others) let their thoughts be known. They assumed I was a “retard”, or at least that was then impression I’d given. “A f*cking freak” was another observation from a tenth and eleventh Grade groups of kids. Others thought I must be a foreign exchange student because of my accent (and politeness), whilst a few appeared to know of my dramatic story and offered sympathetic looks and the occasional sigh (although that was mainly from girls). The boys tried to get me involved in their games but I was still having difficulty in applying myself to this new situation, thankfully Oliver smoothed the way and under his guiding hand I mixed relatively well.
When one boy questioned me about the short shorts he’d seen me wearing out and about in town with auntie I was a bit stuck for an answer until Oliver came to the rescue.
“Oh, yes, I need to get myself some of those,” he smiled as if he was in the know. “They are trending in Europe as the next big fashion…”
He let me add my piece.
“MTV Europe is all over it.”
I couldn’t believe I was saying this in an overly emphasised British manner.
“I may be the first to bring this style to this fair town but I doubt I’ll be the last.”
There were a few nods of approval, or at least understanding, although a few other boys sniggered, joyfully ridiculed me and said they’d never wear something that babyish. At least Oliver’s quick mind had dug me out of a hole I could so easily have slipped into… perhaps never to return?

I sighed with relief.

#

To begin with, after each new day of school I couldn’t wait to return to 46 Glendew Lane and resume my toddler life. I’d rush up to the nursery and pull off my school clothes and wait for auntie’s return to properly fit me in my diaper. The intimacy was all part of my happy journey back to the place I liked the best and, bless her heart, auntie was happy to oblige.
However, once I’d got to know Oliver better I’d arrive home and wasn’t quite as quick to change. In fact I’d go into the ‘other room’ and turn on the computer (something I hadn’t done for absolutely ages) and either play games or catch up on the loads of stuff that had accumulated there since I’d arrived at auntie’s house. Before I knew it auntie would be calling me down for the evening meal and I’d be still dressed as if I’d just gotten in.
She never said anything about this only asking me about the day and how teachers and other kids were treating me. I couldn’t complain. She seemed OK with this news and didn’t push for further details. After the meal, and I’d helped with some chores, I returned to the ‘other room’ to finish my homework.

#

I’d slept in there a few times but still regarded the nursery as my main bedroom however, as I stripped down to get ready for bed the urge to stay there was strong. I stood in front of the mirror wearing just my protection, which was bunched up but only slightly damp, and wondered if I wanted this as much anymore.
There was little doubt that, as I ran my hands over the glossy, slippery plastic surface, the bulkiness under my pants felt as wonderful as ever. The tremble of comfort they offered was there but… I wasn’t sure why but I thought, well, I didn’t know what I thought… but there was certainly some doubt in my mind. Perhaps wearing a diaper for ‘big school’ (I giggled at the very idea of that name) was not what I really wanted.

I wriggled out of my protection and slipped into the shower. When I returned I was expecting auntie to be there to make sure I was well diapered for the night but she wasn’t. With a white towel wrapped around my waist I wandered into the nursery and checked out all the things I liked so much. Touching the pile of diapers and running my fingers over the smooth array of plastic pants I caught sight of myself in the full-length mirror and saw that the towel still made it look like I was wearing a diaper. I smiled to myself… but it was decision time.

#

I moved over from the nursery into ‘my room’ and searched through the draws to find suitable PJs. Yes, I was giving this whole – being fourteen – a real good go and pulled on the type of nightwear I’d not worn since I’d arrived at aunties. Without the bulk of the diaper the pale blue cotton pyjama pants slipped around my waist with ease. It felt a bit strange and it didn’t seem right but, I was determined to be fourteen for the night.
I pulled the covers up and for once wasn’t surrounded by cartoon characters or stuffed toys. My thumb waivered in front of my mouth for a second but I felt really tired and was about to go to sleep when auntie came in to say goodnight.
“Are you OK Doodle?” She ran her hand through my short hair.
“Yes auntie. I’m at High School now so…”
She seemed to understand and gently kissed my head.
“Sleep tight sweetheart.”
She turned the light off and closed the door.

#

I didn’t remember dreaming but I must have slept very heavily because auntie was there rousing me for school.
“C’mon Doodle; you’re going to be late if you don’t get a move on.”
I lay there trying to get my slightly fuddled senses in order. Normally auntie has checked if I’m wet or not, but not this morning. She was drawing the blinds and letting in a rather grey looking morning. Gone was the sun that had been a feature of every day since I’d arrived and the clouds had gathered making the place appear very dull.
Waking up like this, in my new bedroom, which wasn’t as bright or cheery as when I woke up in the nursery, left me feeling a little down. In fact, it took me longer than usual to motivate myself to get up but then my reflexes kicked in when I realised I was soaked.
The sigh that left my throat unbidden attracted auntie’s attention. She saw the look of pained anguish on my face and rightly assumed what was wrong.
“Doodle, don’t worry.”
She was already coming over to hug and comfort me.
“We can sort it out… no worries.”
She knew I must have wet the bed but I was annoyed at trying to be a teenager without at least taking some precautions.
“But auntie,” I sobbed, “I’ve ruined a new bed. I’m sowwy”
The “sowwy” was unintentional but at that moment I felt like a silly little bedwetting kid, even though I’d done it hundreds of times, at that moment I felt I’d let auntie down.
“Don’t worry sweetheart. There’s a waterproof cover over the mattress,” she let that info sink in. “So it’s only a few sheets and your PJs,” she smiled and ruffled my hair, “so no great disaster.”

#

I felt useless but auntie helped me up and out of bed, stripped it and me, then sent me off to shower. When I returned, auntie had changed and remade the bed and had my school protection ready. The changing mat and all the creams and powders were waiting so I just lay out and let her get on with it.
“I suppose it’s back to the nursery for me?” I looked guiltily at her.
“It’s up to you sweetheart. I think you have to try this room and give the nursery a miss for a while… but only if you want.”
She smiled.
“We can always wrap you up safely in here.”
Her eyes darted around the room.
“Perhaps a pull-up… or two… to begin with?”
Her eyes raised to question if that would be acceptable.
As she finished shuffling the plastic pants into place I nodded my agreement.
“OK then, that’s what we’ll do. Come on, time’s running out and you’ll miss the school bus if you don’t get a move on.”

#

The first few weeks passed quickly although I was aware that it was a school enmeshed in a tense atmosphere. Unlike Rainbow and my English school, there were many cliques and divisions that appeared to flourish in such a huge and diverse environment. The school was the only High School in the region so had an enormous number of students, who were garnered from not only the town but all the smaller outlying areas. This produced a diversity of strange allegiances to various factions including; fashion, sport, clubs, family and rivalries between previous other schools.
In the senior aspect of the school it was the ‘jocks’ that appeared to reign supreme. Unlike at the school in England, there was a lot of flaunting their success, no matter how local and parochial that success was. A great deal of fuss was made about even being on a team never mind if they actually won anything (which they hadn’t). I was amazed at the attitude of these people – their strutting and self-belief was, to my mind at least, undeserved and I couldn’t help but point that out to anyone who might listen to my view.
Oliver suggested that, for the moment at least, as we were in an easily targeted age group (with absolutely no influence) I should curtail any negative opinions on the High School Broncos, or any of the other sports teams that infested the place. The football team were big and fearsome with apparently an absolute right to lord it over timid students, which was mainly everyone else.
I hated to say it but the school in the UK just would not put up with such behaviour, where modesty in achievements was thought of in a positive manner. I remembered one of the ‘Old Boys’ from that school returning with an Olympic Gold medal, which we all (yes even me) were keen to touch. I’d never met a nicer, more unassuming man (in fact he must have only been a teenager) who had thanked and praised his peers, and school, for the encouragement they’d given him.
Meanwhile… well… words failed me because I just couldn’t (without swearing) say what I thought of these unworthy, loud-mouthed bullies.

#

Meanwhile, at home I temporarily put the nursery ‘off limits’ on school days so my nights were spent in ‘my room’ wearing new PJs under which I wore a pair or two of pull-ups as a safety net (so to speak). A couple more times I flooded them and wet the bed but in general they seemed to work reasonably well. However, I did miss not having my slinky plastic pants on as stroking them before I dropped off both relaxed me, if I was feeling that way out, or made me hard, if my mind was working in a different direction. The thickness of the padding denying me access, which was frustrating but in a gloriously wonderful way, making the smooth outer coating seem all the more sensual.
There is something quite special about certain vinyl pants. Some can be smooth, yet unyielding, thick and offer support but little comfort. However, some of the soft, opaque pants that I wore were so slinky and pliable that I sometimes couldn’t imagine not wearing them for the sheer emotional thrill their touch gave. I looked at myself many times in the mirror and was overjoyed to see the well-padded seat of my diaper enclosed in that smooth ductile material; the elastic legs gripping and holding everything tightly in place before I slipped on a pair of shorts or trousers. The thought of what I had on under those clothes had me in a constant state of secure pleasure.

#

Although my wetting at school was less than what I used to do at Rainbow, I still had some accidents. The principal was adamant that I’d not be allowed out of my protection until we’d seen the second psychologist and he’d had a report that I was ‘safe’ and in fairness, although I had no intention of messing all over the school, I still was having peeing problems.
It was unfortunate that sometimes I got no warning of my bladder leaking until I was already in the process of flooding my diaper and of course by then any attempt to stop the flow was a useless act. On these occasions I’d visit Nurse Jefferson in the break and she would sort me out fairly promptly. Because it had become such a relaxed operation, and I was usually the only patient, it never occurred to me that others might use the facility.

As I lay naked from the waist down an injured jock, straight from the playing fields, came bursting in holding a bloody rag to his equally bloody nose. He was a very big senior and I’m sure it was only because he’d been told to see the nurse that he hadn’t just carried on playing, blood or no blood.
He saw this 9th Grader, me, lying out, buck naked and getting lotion rubbed into my hairless groin (I was still using the creams that auntie used in those first few days to prevent hair growth). He did a double-take as he saw the huge disposable being readied and the plastic pants waiting to be slipped up.
It was as if all his prayers had been answered to make this journey to the nurse’s office worthwhile.
He burst out laughing
“Oh sorry nurse I didn’t know you were on baby-sitting duty.”
He guffawed at his clever comment.
“I’ll wait until his diapee is all snuggly-wuggly… I’m sure my bloody dripping nose can wait until after such an emergency.”
“Now Kyle,” Nurse Jefferson responded. “I’ll only be a few more seconds so why not wait in the office and then I’ll see to you?”
“Sure, sure.”

He slowly backed out but not without taking in the final act of being taped into my disposable.
“Get the kindergarteners sorted first… I’m sure nap time isn’t far off.”
He was mumbling but making sure I heard every word.
I was a bit embarrassed to say the least that my diaper change had been witnessed by one of the football fraternity and although I wished otherwise, I had a feeling this wasn’t going to be the last I heard about it.

#

Nurse Jefferson didn’t seem to be worried, or even acknowledge the disruption and happily carried on making sure my protection was in place.
As I left the room the huge bloody hulking frame of Kyle was waiting just outside the door.
“Well aren’t you just precious,”
He delivered his words with both sarcasm and venom.
“I’m sure I’ll be seeing a great deal of my sweet little baby girlie…”
He patted my padded bottom.
“That’s thick, thick padding for a thick, thick baby. Oh yes… she’s just right to be a playmate.”
His voice was a mocking and threatening growl.
I was angry at his words and that he’d feminised me but at that precise moment I was just too humiliated to come back with a witty reply. His bulk was very intimidating and as he entered the room I’d just exited he blew me a kiss and smeared more blood on his already bloody face.
As the door slammed shut I shivered, wondering what hell I could expect from then on.

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 10

Chapter 12

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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

Chapter 11

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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

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Auntie Joan Part 8

This story is written by Les Lea

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

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

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

#

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

#

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#

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

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

#

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

#

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

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

#

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

#

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

#

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

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

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

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

#

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

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

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

This story is written by Les Lea

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

Chapter 7

Chapter 9

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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

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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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