Draw and above text by pichu90.
Yes now when this cute little Pichu is getting powder all over his butt he is soon ready for his nice and cozy diaper :) That i bet he is looking forward to :)
He sure seems having a pretty fun time right now :)
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Ixi finds herself in an automated babying contraption with robot hands, conveyor belt, and everything else much like previous ponies before her. However, unlike them she prefers to go through the whole process by her own hooves. Ixi pauses the robot hands in their advance. She then proceeds with powdering, diapering, and even changing into a Taokaka-like outfit before jumping into a crib nearby. After waving to the robot hands that she’s all good, one of the hands seems baffled and decides to call it a day.
Ixi © nekonekodiamata
Draw and above text by ArtieCanvas
Some sure seems to be pretty happy to be back in diapers and wear some cute baby cloths :) Looks like the machine find the perfect object :)
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Draw and everything by Skelbely
Looks like this little wolf boy get some help when it comes to changing his diaper and during the baby powder episode it seems like his pee pee get some special attention :)
Looks like someone maybe going to have a little hard time to put the diaper on soon. I bet that pee pee have manage to grow big bye then. Or what do you think?
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Original Underlines by tato
Inking and Coloring by Rogeykun
Look who finely have come down :)
That kangaroo sure dont miss anything. Making sure this sharks butt is cowed in plenty of baby powder. This sure look super cute :)
Maybe she finely have learn that diapers is going to be part of here new life from this point :) I sure hope this is the case. It sure going to make things allot easier for the kangaroo.
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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.
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?”
“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”.
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.
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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.”
“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?”
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.
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This story is written by Les Lea
There is something about being in a thick diaper. You walk differently. Yes, a waddle of course but something else, the thicker padding causes an amble that makes you feel… ‘toddlersome’. With the extra fabric I sense, with each step, my legs being slightly forced apart, my hips swing more and I have to ‘shake’ every now and then to un-bunch the folds of material. It isn’t a big movement but one that makes me feel, well, makes me feel my diaper is an important part of me. Now I’m getting used to the warm, wet and satisfying feeling of peeing in it… I like it even more.
Auntie Joan was continuing her thoughts about the rooms.
“But, for as long as you want and desire your childhood, we have this room as well.”
Her hand swept over the improved nursery.
“You choose where you want to sleep and how…”
My warm diaper had transformed me to a three year-old and my mind wandered. I wriggled in the wet delight and looked over at the piles of diapers at the change station hoping I’d get to wear them all before I had to go back to being a ‘big boy’. The very thought of being anything but what I now was I found frightening. I loved being auntie’s ‘good little boy’, I felt at my most comfortable when I was well-padded and now I’d learned how to have fun, I was in no hurry to return to a school of my peers; Molly, William and the others back at Rainbow were now my peers.
I’d only just promised auntie I’d be her ‘little boy’ and now that I was, I would do anything to stay that way. I instinctively knew that she wouldn’t want me to change, that any change would be forced on her by government rules. I just hoped that she would delay the inevitable for as long as possible.
I wanted my diaper, I wanted my short shorts, I wanted colourful and juvenile clothes, cartoons, lullabies, mad bursts of energy followed by naps. I wanted to hold hands when we went out, I wanted to know that crying wasn’t seen as a sissy thing to do but what was expected from a child with limited vocabulary. I wanted to be loved as you would and should love a toddler. With Auntie Joan I got that and more… and I wasn’t going to give it up if I could help it.
I was sitting in the bubble-filled bath feeling a bit sad but auntie was kneeling by the side and encouraging me to play with a couple of toy boats she’d added. I half-heartedly sailed them around.
“Dean, sweetie, I want you to be a happy little boy for as long as possible.”
She squeezed the sponge over my head and the resulting warm cascade was very soothing.
“We have to face up to the fact that things change and I want it so… well… it isn’t a trauma when it happens. However, I don’t want my best little boy to worry. It’s going to be a while before any changes happen and…”
She stroked my short wet hair and looked me in the eye.
“There’s nothing to stop you being a little boy when you come home from big boy school now is there?”
She looked at me to see if there was a happy response in my eyes but at that moment I just sighed and shrugged and let auntie continue bathing me.
Once finished and dried I was again made ready for bed. The oil she spread over my body, and the obvious pleasure she got from making sure it was thoroughly rubbed in, made me smile. She was doing her best and I was coming round to accepting that we had started on a ‘relationship’ that neither of us really knew where or when it would end. I didn’t like these adult thoughts and I hoped they would be my last, but thankfully auntie was going to be there for whatever happened and more importantly, for whatever I needed.
I bucked up as a shower of baby powder covered my lower half and I could see she had already pre-folded my night time diaper. It had the thick pad in place and she deftly slipped it under my bum, lifted up my legs and adding more powder to my bottom and genitals before taking the huge pins and securing me in. This time she snapped me into a thick pair of bright yellow vinyl pants and pulled an equally bright yellow onesie over my head and snapped that into place.
“Where is he?”
She hid her face behind her hands before quickly reappearing.
“There he is.”
She was playing the simplest and silliest baby game going and I was giggling. It was a joke because I was laid there in the brightest yellow possible, a beacon of visibility, and no one could have lost me looking like that.
She did the same routine a couple more times before I was laughing so much I thought I might pee myself again. Auntie took my hand and helped me to my feet. There it was again, that wonderful, bulky feeling that made me feel so… special.
We waddled down stairs together and she sat me on the couch to watch more TV. This time she’d set a DVD going that was really just a parade of childish cartoons, which I loved, because I remembered that a couple of the kids back at Rainbow were wearing some of these characters on their clothes and I didn’t know who they were.
Auntie went off to the kitchen to get some snacks and I settled on my tummy in front of the screen to enjoy what was happening. My bulky front making me wriggle to get comfortable, I could only imagine what I looked like from behind but, I knew auntie (and I) would both approve.
She was away about ten minutes but when she returned gone were the cookies and Sippy cup I’d expected, instead was warm milk in a baby’s bottle. Auntie settled on the sofa and then patted the space by her side inviting me to join. I crawled into the crook and she immediately hugged me then turned so that I was on my back but facing her. She hadn’t said anything, just smiled and waited for me to decide if this was something I wanted. I wasn’t sure but I knew it was something else auntie had decided I needed so happily complied.
The rubber teat slipped between my lips with ease. Once she was sure I was comfy she tipped the bottle up and let me feed, sucking it down in a rhythm I didn’t know I had (perhaps it’s a natural bodily response to a nipple that never really leaves you). The drink was warm banana and vanilla flavoured milk and wonderful to taste as it slipped gratifyingly down my throat.
As she held me close I could feel the warmth of her body radiating the love I so craved. I snuggled deeper into that embrace and as I sucked I felt both small and soothed. There was nothing about this process that I didn’t find enjoyable, especially as she patted and rubbed my padding in time to the rhythm of my nursing.
The cartoon on the television was still going but auntie had reduced the sound and hummed a little tune as I finished the milk. I was so relaxed I was almost asleep but auntie still held and gently rocked me as I dozed. Her fingers were softly making patterns on my tummy and occasionally she’d pat out a tempo on my vinyl protection.
I’d dozed so much and come round again that I had no idea of the time as she led me up to my room. This time she drew back the cover on the new bed and invited me to climb in. I really wanted to get into the other, I liked the feeling of security and childishness that the rails offered but, I couldn’t deny it, the new bed, with my choice of covers (colourful cartoon animals) was equally welcoming. I was reluctant of this change at first but climbed in anyway and was immediately engulfed in the new, clean and fresh linen. My bare legs felt the novelty of new sheets and a shiver of cool pleasure ran through my body.
She pulled the covers up to my chin and kissed me goodnight. I wondered where my teddy was but auntie just laid the pale blue fleecy blanket I’d chosen in the shop next to my head. Its soft fluffiness tickled my cheek so pulled it in and hugged the fuzzy material close. I can’t explain how wonderful and calming it felt but my mind was suddenly empty of all those earlier awful and worrying thoughts. Now, as I slipped into dreamland, I had never been more snug, cosy or secure.
My tummy was full, my brain was empty and I was in the most wonderful place when auntie turned off the light and wished me “sweet dreams”. I snuggled up to my security blanket and for some reason my thumb found its way between my lips. I suppose the baby’s bottle earlier had got me thinking of sucking on something but I wasn’t even thinking of a reason as I happily suckled my own digit.
I woke up late in the night and could barely make out anything in the room. There was hardly any light coming in through the window and auntie had not fitted a nightlight, which I thought I might mention at some point. There were only vague shadows being cast and I could make out the bulky contours of the closet. Strangely, there was one part of the room that did catch what little light there was and I could see the outline of my plastic pants hung on the rail above the changing table. Oddly enough I must have found this reassuring because I soon closed my eyes and drifted back to sleep. However, this time my dream was very different.
Neither auntie or uncle, or mom or dad, made an appearance; instead I was in the woods where I was playing with a green beaver (like the one on my covers). We’d been chasing each other, along with a red deer and purple bird, all over the place; in and out of the dappled leafy glades, through the bracken, over grassy hills and back to the ultra-blue meandering river. However, one of the little streams that flowed into the river was blocked by logs. The beaver said he hadn’t done it but was admiring the natural dam that had clogged its course.
Unfortunately, further downstream, the water flow had stopped and large orange fish were distressingly flapping around in the tiny puddles that were left. We knew we had to do something to save them so we all pulled and pushed at the woody obstruction. The beaver was gnawing as quickly as he could, the bird was fluttering around hoping to dislodge any twigs with the beat of its wings, whilst I was straining as I took hold of a large log that seemed stuck and to be causing most of the trouble. I was sweating from the effort. I pulled and pushed, gripped and tugged, twisted and turned and eventually, with a huge, straining heave, I could feel the entire structure begin to give way. Soon the water began to trickle through the gap we’d made, which was rapidly followed by the entire dam disintegrating, releasing the water, the woody obstruction being forced apart and swiftly turning the empty stream into a raging torrent.
I suddenly woke up pleased with the success of the mission. The morning sun was already beating at the blinds trying to get in and I was lying in… in… Oh God… what had I done?
The feeling of accomplishment was fleeting as I realised just what had happened.
I was in shock.
I could smell, as well as feel, the mess that was occupying my night time protection and I didn’t know what to do. I was stunned that my body should betray me in such a way but I had no idea how to deal with it. I didn’t dare move in case I made matters worse. I didn’t dare look in case I’d made a mess all over my new pristine sheets, I was completely horror struck that I’d done something that I couldn’t remember ever having done before. I’m sure as a child it happened but it wasn’t something I recalled but at that moment, I was as helpless as a new-born baby.
As I lay there wondering if I should try and waddle to the bathroom auntie bowled in with her usual morning enthusiasm.
She obviously detected something was wrong as she pulled back the blinds and opened the window. Even a wonderful sunny Kansas morning couldn’t help the situation.
She returned to my bedside and looked down as I squirmed in my shame.
“Has my little Poppet had a bit of an accident?”
There was no anger in her voice just a question that obviously needed no response from me.
She pulled back the covers to reveal my yellow onesie and my burgeoning diaper.
I felt guilty, ashamed and scared of my own body. How could it do this?
Auntie was of course immediately reassuring.
“Don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll soon have my little chick,” I think she was jokingly referring to my extreme yellow outfit, “all clean and spruced up.”
She helped me from my bed. I tentatively moved, desperate not to dislodge anything that was trapped in my diaper, and was relieved to see my plastic protection hadn’t leaked.
Auntie guided me over to the new, reinforced and larger padded plastic changing area and had me lay out. I kept saying how sorry I was but she just smiled and got on with the clean-up. She cautiously released the onesie and the vinyl pants snaps, which revealed the fabric diaper looking like it had been through several muddy puddles. It was discoloured and I closed my eyes trying not to think of the horror I supposed was waiting for auntie once she unpinned the soggy thing.
“OK Poppet everything is alright. Don’t worry, auntie will see to it.”
Her reassurance was constant but the guilt hung heavily, like my diaper.
“It’s natural sweetheart. Don’t be upset, even good boys have accidents so don’t let it worry you. I’ll soon have you looking as cute as always.”
The stench was overpowering to me but auntie just rolled up the offending article and put it straight into the waiting pail. Thankfully, the change station was well-equipped for such emergencies and a huge carton of wet wipes suddenly became the centre of my world as she slowly swabbed the mess from my nether region. The damp, menthol-smelling wipes were cool to my skin so came as a bit of a shock as she applied the first one.
She could see I was on the verge of tears so her encouragement was most welcome. I’d always assumed that I wouldn’t ever fill my diaper in such a way, that I would be able to control that particular side of my bodily function, but now?
The fact it was of no concern to auntie and that, judging by her words and tone, it was just something little boys do, made me less anxious. However, I didn’t really want to watch so closed my eyes and let her get on with what she had to do.
She was of course incredibly thorough, bringing in a bowl of warm water and cloth to re-mop the entire area. With all the products and supplies she needed now at a more accessible height; I was daubed in more protecting cream and covered in powder. She then grabbed a couple of disposables and taped me in before finding a large pair of opaque plastic pants to drag over it all. She went to the closet and pulled out a pink and blue onesie that had an aeroplane on the front, which snapped neatly between my legs holding the bulky structure tightly together. Then she shuffled up a pair of very loose, elasticated denim style shorts to finish. It wasn’t as smart as yesterday’s outfit but looked more playful and I suppose, juvenile but I still felt happy wearing it.
Despite the horror that had been in my diaper, it had only taken auntie a few minutes to clean me up, get me dressed and ready for my day at Rainbow. I inspected my new outfit in the mirror and thought how much more I looked the part and hoped I’d fit in better now I appeared more infantile.
By 7.30am I was already crawling around with Simon and Kate, two four year-olds, who wanted me to join them, because of the plane on my chest, to make an airport. There were a number of different sized toy planes, some you just pushed but others that made a noise and worked with a clockwork engine. We had a long runway that we swept the planes up and down, taking off and landing and asking permission from the Lego control tower when we could take our turn. It was great fun but, as more kids arrived, our noisy, busy runway got shorter and shorter so in the end we abandoned that and went to play with some toy cars in the corner where a garage was set.
The day followed the same pattern as the day before but was completely different. I made other friends and we played different games together. We coloured in, we built, we ran around, we listened to stories, we got checked, we got changed and we napped. We laughed, we cried (well I didn’t but some did) we hugged and we pretended, we pretended we were grown up, which was… fun.
At one point I was growling like a lion and chasing around after a group of other kids pretending to be very savage and attempting to eat them for my dinner. The kids were screaming in delight as I was on all-fours chasing and roaring my complete fiercest when almost five year-old Deborah came up to me, spanked me hard on my padded bottom and said very loudly.
“Naughty kitty, you’re scaring Julie.”
I was so surprised by this intervention that I sat back on my haunches and felt thoroughly chastised by this girl.
Julie was indeed looking a bit scared but all the others were laughing and liked me chasing them around but Deborah was having none of it.
“Stop scaring people.”
She wagged her finger and though I wasn’t going to cry, she seemed so grown up in her attitude that I did feel ashamed and thought if I didn’t stop she was going to spank me again as punishment.
That authority came from the fact that she didn’t wear a diaper. She was confident and potty trained, and we ‘little babies,’ still wearing our thick protection, felt she must know best.
In fact she was very proud of the fact she was toilet trained. Like all the kids at Rainbow, because of the heat, we wore as little as possible. Her pretty little flowery dress was short, so every time she spun or bent over or just played in general, everyone could see the lack of a diaper and her silky matching little panties. She wasn’t a bully, in fact she seemed to see it as her job to look out for the younger, easily scared or upset members of the group and make it right for them. She was helpful and considerate and the staff liked her because of her empathy with other kids.
As I reeled back under her wagging finger I could feel my body try and retreat into itself and without any help from me, I wet myself.
The other kids I’d been chasing obviously thought the same of Deborah as I did because they immediately settled down under her stern words and I’m sure I wasn’t the only one to let go a fearful pee.
My diaper wasn’t checked again so I had a heavy load to carry with me all the way home.
This story is written by Les Lea
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.
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