Messy underwear

Kenny Part 3

This story is written by Les Lea

Sunday morning was always a big breakfast morning! At the table mum didn’t even notice the switch. If she did she never mentioned it or gave a look of disapproval as we tucked into the filling meal. She hoped that Kenny had had a goodnight’s sleep, I think she was trying to find out if he’d wet or not, but I got a nudge and a smile from Kenny for me to answer, after all, I was now Kenny! Mum was busy and had her back to me as I answered nervously that it was a dry night so… no leaks. She nodded in acknowledgement and carried on with her washing–up or whatever she was doing at the sink. It was a strange feeling being padded at my own table and I had to wriggle in my seat to try and get comfortable, I felt sorry for Kenny if this was how he felt all the time when he was diapered even though he said he was used to it. However, despite that initial feeling, there was something, a connection, that I liked and the special bond we had was growing as I became more at ease in my new underwear.

Throughout breakfast he had a huge grin on his face… bigger than usual… he looked so happy. We managed to answer my mum’s questions and as often as I could I’d answer as Kenny and he answered for me, Jake had no idea what was going on. After breakfast we played outside and had a game of kick about. We had a decent sized garden and we backed onto some fields so had plenty of space. Kenny was a very good soccer player he was even in the school team. Unfortunately, I liked the game but had no skill so it was more kick and run for me and Jake… although he was slightly better at it than me. Some of my brother’s school friends arrived and soon we had a bunch of kids kicking and screaming their heads off as we charged around after the ball. The thickness between my legs was a constant reminder I was wearing something of Kenny’s but it seemed less uncomfortable when I ran about than when I had been sitting down. Kenny (or perhaps that should be Simon) was very attentive and often seemed to be checking and stroking my bottom as we tackled each other or even just coming into contact as we went for the ball. He looked to be enjoying the fact that I was padded and in his worn diaper because, with his wonderful smile, he kept asking me how I was feeling. With all the constant running around I had to keep jerking my shorts up as they kept sliding down the plastic pants. Often the diaper bunched up and needed to be hoisted back into a more comforting position but I just did these things automatically. All the kids must have seen my ‘protection’ but no one reacted; perhaps they were waiting until they were out of earshot before they commented.

Neither mum nor the neighbors seemed to be bothered about the noise as more kids from the estate appeared from nowhere and got involved. We’d never had this many people at our house, even if Jake did seem to know everyone, and it was funny that some of them were calling me Kenny and calling Kenny Simon because that’s what we were shouting to each other. I know it stupid but we laughed every time someone got our name wrong (or should that be right?).

***

Towards lunchtime the gang began to thin out and even Jake disappeared with a couple of his friends over to a neighbors house. Despite the big breakfast we were both hungry after the hectic game and made our way to the kitchen to see if mum had prepared anything. Just as we got to the door a car pulled up and it was Kenny’s mum coming to collect him. He waved to her and she waved back and within moments she was hugging and kissing her son and asking if he’d been a good boy. I noticed that as they spoke she patted his bottom, to check his diaper I suppose, but he whispered something to her and she smiled and kissed the top of his head. My mum came out to greet her and whilst they chatted we went off to my room to get his things.

Mum had already re-made my bed so the place was pretty tidy consequently, all he had to do was roll up his unused sleeping bag and shove a few of his things away in his backpack. I checked in the bathroom to make sure he hadn’t left anything in there. The only thing was the baby powder was still out from when I’d diapered him the day before so I put it back in the cabinet. I guess mum left it out in case he needed it again and I was thankful that she’d cleaned up the powdery mess we’d made the day before… without telling us both off. Back in my bedroom he made no move to change out of my clothes so I guess I was going to be wearing his in future, which after a morning of activity, I’d gotten used to anyway. His mum had told him she was in a rush so we didn’t have much time for good-byes but he hugged me and said that he would check with his ‘mummy and daddy’ but hoped to have me over to his place before too long. As a ten year-old I found calling his mom ‘mummy’ a bit childish but it didn’t seem to bother Kenny. In some ways he was very young but in others, he was so grown up. We’d had so much fun I was really sorry that he had to go but we’d be seeing each other at school the following morning so it wasn’t that bad.

***
I was a bit down after Kenny left and riding my bike on my own wasn’t that much fun. In fact, the diaper was really bunched up so I went up to my room to change. I stripped down to just the diaper and plastic pants and looked in the mirror. The plastic pants had moulded themselves to my body and looked shiny and tight but there was no denying that there was a disposable hidden underneath. I turned so I could see my reflection from all different angles and the slightly bulky outline I found I didn’t mind at all. I thought of how Kenny had to wear this type of thing on a regular basis and I could see why he liked doing so. My experience was really only for a few hours but I did like the look, and, I had to admit, as I smoothed my hands over the padded area, that the glossy softness of the plastic was particularly nice.

I was in two minds; should I keep wearing them or change into something else? If I kept wearing them there was a chance that mum would notice and start asking questions I didn’t think I could answer and besides that, I thought I’d be more comfortable wearing a pair of my white gym shorts around the house like I often did when the weather was hot. Alternatively, if I kept the padding on, no one would be in any doubt about the fact I was diapered. So, that decision was made and I slowly peeled down the plastic pants, neatly folded them and put them in the draw near Kenny’s soiled diaper I’d hidden earlier. The disposable I was wearing was a bit far gone to keep. It was lumped together, very wet (although I don’t think I’d peed in it) and I doubted if it could have been worn again, after all Kenny had worn it all night and I’d worn it for most of the day. I pulled on my little white gym shorts and a clean white t-shirt and joined mum and Jake watching TV, though not before I’d hidden the very used diaper deep in a garbage sack and, with a slight regret, thrown it into the bin outside.

***

Mrs Morrison had left a nice big box of chocolates for my mum as a little ‘thanks’ for coming to her ‘emergency’ rescue. So, later in the evening, as we all sat watching TV, Jake and I helped mum demolish each yummy layer. As it was school the following day, we were both ordered to take a bath and have an early night. Mum got it ready for Jake to go first but once he was in and playing with his toys I thought I might as well get in as well. We hadn’t taken a bath together for quite some time but I suppose, with the closeness I’d experienced with Kenny, I was happy to share with my brother. He didn’t seem bothered as we managed to play a rather convincing war game with his plastic boats and submarines. A lot of noise and splashing later and mum came in to dry Jake off. He looked so sweet as mum wrapped him in a huge towel and dried him down. She had his clean PJs waiting and got him dressed all ready for bed as I still lounged in the tub. She escorted him to his room, tucked him in, kissed him goodnight and I heard her say that it was “straight to sleep… no reading or games”.

I was just about to get out and dry myself when mum came back in. “I like Kenny,” she said with a smile on her face. “He’s very grow-up, despite his slight problem. He seems to be able to manage it very well.”

I didn’t know whether to get out of the bath or stay where I was while mum chatted but she got another huge towel ready and inferred that she was going to dry me the same as she had done Jake. This again was something we hadn’t done for what seemed like ages and I really loved the attention. Mum kept saying that she hoped we’d see more of Kenny and that I could invite him around again sometime if I wanted. She seemed glad of the diversion from her bank work as she went on about what a nice lady his mother was and what a fine looking man his dad was… I couldn’t speak or reply much because I was being jogged up and down as my mum vigorously rubbed me dry. Eventually she stopped and left me wrapped in the towel. She was very enthusiastic about the entire weekend but, she confessed, she was glad it was back to school for us in the morning.

***

Back in my room and wrapped only in the towel I sat at my desk and got my books ready for class. All the work I’d been assigned (which amounted to keeping a diary of the weekend) was done, my school clothes were pressed and waiting on the chair… when I suddenly thought about Kenny’s used diaper. I nervously went to retrieve it from its hiding place, a little worried that mum might come in and discover it and I still hadn’t thought of a decent excuse to explain how or why I had it. I lost my nerve and decided it could wait until I felt a bit more confident about bringing it out and perhaps, with a bit of time, mum would have forgotten all about it.

I noticed that mum had left my clean PJs on my pillow; a blue t-shirt and blue satin boxers with Disney character all over them. I remembered when I got them, I was so pleased I must have worn them nonstop for a month before I’d wear anything else. They were still up there amongst my favorites, if you can have a favorite pair of boxers that is. I shucked off the towel and slipped into my boxers… they felt soft, silky and wonderful. I pulled back my sheets ready to climb into bed and was surprised to see a couple of pairs of disposable diapers and a pair of clear plastic pants. I don’t know why but a shiver ran up my spine as I picked them up to be examined more carefully. Thankfully they were the same brand that Kenny wore so I assumed they had been left by him as a present and it wasn’t some clever move on my mum’s part to get me back into diapers. I wasn’t sure whether to put them on or not but decided against that for the time being, wishing instead to luxuriate in my satin boxers and think about how nice it had been to be rubbing up against Kenny.

***

Another thought entered my head and it was of the first time that Jake had appeared by my bedside in the middle of the night crying and scared by a storm. He was carrying his teddy bear, had a little white cotton undershirt on and was wearing a thick diaper. Why he hadn’t gone to my parent’s room, dad was with us in those days, I wasn’t sure. Perhaps, with them arguing all the time…? However, the storm had frightened him so he sought refuge with me. He was 2 and I was a grown-up 4 so I pushed back the blanket as a huge roar of thunder, which seemed to be right next door to us, crashed around the house and he burst into even more tears. I didn’t like to see my baby brother in distress (I still don’t) so he and his teddy climbed in and I held him while he settled down and his sobbing gave way to sleep. His little padded bottom rested comfortably in the hollow of my stomach as I hugged him close. Meanwhile, the flashes and noise slowly moved away and I was eventually able to fall asleep myself clutching his warm little body for comfort and reassurance.

***

My parents divorced less than a year later because dad went off with a woman from work. Mum found it quite difficult to begin with. Having two youngsters to cope with (I gather dad didn’t want to be bogged down with such responsibilities) must have been hard but we had my Auntie Rose, mum’s sister, staying with us and she helped out. Once she got Jake off to school mum went back to her job at the bank full time and, perhaps surprisingly, came up with a plan that saved it loads of money. She got promoted and was doing very well when head office wanted her to take the lead at a new branch, in another state. Mum said it was going to be an adventure when she told us we were moving but I guess… I didn’t expect it to lead to this.

***

I lay on my stomach and wriggled my hips against the mattress just as I had snuggled against Kenny. The feeling was awesome. I ran my hands over my satin boxers and the sensation was something I hadn’t expected. My little penis was reacting to something and my whole body shook in a pleasure I didn’t understand. Ohhh, this was something else, what was going on? I had no idea but, and don’t ask me why because I cannot give you a reason, I went to my draw, unfurled Kenny’s plastic pants, put them on, pulled my boxers over the top… and did it again. I kept up this action against my mattress until I fell asleep but I knew it would be something I wanted to try again.

***

The morning saw Jake and I waiting for the school bus to arrive. He looked like a smaller version of me as we both wore similar clothes; grey shorts, maroon blazer, school tie etc etc. Some of the other kids who went to different schools didn’t have to wear a uniform and we were occasionally the butt of some jokes. To begin with the taunts worried me but, as all the kids at my particular school had the same uniform it was less of a problem. However, on this day a much older boy accused the small group of us sitting together of looking like ‘a bunch of babies in our little short pants’ (if he only knew about my weekend wearing diapers) it did make me feel a little ashamed about my sudden, Kenny inspired, willingness to wear this particular form of protection. So, I squirmed in my seat but glad I had on my briefs under my school shorts, having decided that diapers, and anything else, might be best left to wearing at home and for ‘special occasions’.

The school year appeared to get more intense and class was becoming more difficult. I saw Kenny every day and when we could we’d play together but somehow our weekends never matched up as either he was doing something or I was. Thankfully, I had my disposables and plastic pants (which I am sure is why he gave them to me) as a constant reminder of him, so even when he wasn’t there, he was in some form. Almost every night I’d do the ‘rubbing thing’ that I’d taught myself and fall asleep having experienced a tingling sensation that flowed through my body. I couldn’t explain it, even to Kenny, but I decided that the next time we had a sleepover, I’d show him what to do.

***

Life in school continued and it appeared that Kenny wasn’t wearing any protection for a good number of weeks. He told me that he’d been dry now for longer than he’d ever been and wondered if his wetting episodes were now over. Night time protection was still there but he woke up every morning to a dry diaper so mummy and daddy (his words) were very pleased with him. He’d even been to the store with his mum and bought new underpants like the ones he got from me when we exchanged clothes. At lunchtime he showed me them, and although I was enthusiastic about them, I was also a little disappointed as I now regularly wore his plastic pants under my boxers to sleep in and he seemed to have moved on.

However, all that changed one morning when I got to class. Kenny was sat on the floor working with a group of other kids on a project and I could see that his shorts were almost bursting with the size of a huge diaper. There was no getting away from it Kenny was back in diapers and what a diaper it was too, every time he moved it could be seen. If he sat down his shorts rode up and the shiny plastic, holding back the thick diaper, was very visible. If he bent over it was on show for all to see but Kenny being Kenny, just carried on as if nothing had changed. I asked him what had happened and he told me that the night before he’d woken up during the early hours with his PJs full of pee and poo. It was the one time he had felt able to try to spend the night with no protection but it had… as he said… ‘explosive consequences’ (I think that must have been a term either his mum or dad had used). His parents assumed he must have eaten something to have caused such a reaction but he confided in me… swearing me to secrecy… as to what had actually happened.

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 2

Chapter 4

(Visited 256 times, 4 visits today)

Billy’s Fault Part 7

This story is written by Les Lea

The recent success at work and the elation at a job brilliantly executed had had an effect on Sandra. She felt confident and secure in her judgement, after all, hadn’t what she’d accomplished benefited the entire company? Many people owed their future prospects to her skilful negotiating. Sandra was on top of the world and now, with this ‘personal’ project underway, there was a feeling of euphoria and that anything could be accomplished if she set her mind to it.

Sandra found her work colleagues giving her a great deal more respect and admiration. Another thing that happened was… she wasn’t always tired and grumpy. In fact, she was now unexpectedly rejuvenated, enjoying and coping with everything being sent her way. Nothing was too much trouble or problem insurmountable. It was if she’d been born again.

Before this success, her work life and family life had all been a bit of a burden but now, now she relished the opportunity to fix a problem or find a solution and saw she was able to do both with relative ease. With work sorted she was certain that her home ‘dilemma’ was also soon to be another thing successfully accomplished.

The thing was… her success had literally gone to her head. That victory had set off a number of neurons, chemicals and synapses acting in a way they never had before.

#

Sandra was pleased with the way her boy looked in his new outfit. Strangely a sudden rush of empathy ran through her nervous system as she was reminded of Billy as a toddler. It was a time when he was just so cute and lovable and hadn’t yet got into the habit of lying or causing trouble. Now she saw him dressed as he was she sighed… that was a time Sandra recognised she missed terribly.

Even though he’d been wearing a nappy now for quite number of days, this weeping, chastised little boy in his shiny plastic pants resonated in her head. Perhaps, all the piss, shit and dirty nappies had led to this moment of realisation and that was why she was so keen to continue with things as they were. Whether she was truly out to humiliate him or not, the truth was, she loved the way he was now and didn’t want things to change.

His big eyes, glassy from all his crying and his sad face made her forget the terror he’d become and remember the sweet innocent he used to be. Then he’d loved his nappy, even after he was potty trained he still held a terry nappy square as a sort of security blanket and silently sucked on its corners when worried.

With her boy now nervous and completely subjugated such memories flooded her hippocampus. She hugged him again hoping to make him feel less unsure about what he was wearing.
“You look so… so cute Billy… I… I…”

She hugged him again and kissed the top of his head, whilst patting his plastic protection in what she hoped was a reassuring way. She wanted him to accept the situation and the punishment for what he’d done and realise this was all for his own good.

Not too long ago she would have thought up this idea of punishing Billy and immediately rejected it as stupid and far too labour intensive. However, now, it seemed like the best thing she’d ever planned; the detail, the inclusion, the eventual outcome all appeared to be the obvious solution to her problems. She was in no doubt whatsoever she was on the right track.

There was a possible bonus, and that was getting back onto some kind of social level from which she’d been shunned for far too long. She thought she deserved to be accepted and, whilst getting Billy back as a functioning part of the family, had come up with this unusual ‘failsafe’ plan to make that happen.

Billy had been quite the little angel when a baby. He looked cute and was just so loving and sweet natured. Where ever or whenever it went wrong… that moment had to be found and rectified so, in amongst everything else that was going on in her head, the re-set button on Billy had to be pressed. Starting over seemed a brilliant place to begin and, as he was already wearing a nappy, thought the time and opportunity were there for the taking.

To begin with he would feel it was a continuation of the protection from his illness but later, when realising this was all he was being allowed to wear, she knew he’d start to lash out.

However, she was going to be firm but sympathetic, loving but controlling and see how long he could go without throwing a tantrum. Although, if or when he did, it would quickly be dealt with.

No outburst was going to be tolerated, nor would damage to any of his protection, both grounds for a severe paddling.

Sandra made the rules and consequences abundantly clear. She made the threat one he could not ignore.

She hugged Billy in a tight, loving embrace and whispered it was now up to him, his behaviour would be under close scrutiny and she hoped that the wooden spoon (or any other unspecified implement) wouldn’t need to be used again.

A shiver of fear ran through Billy’s already wracked body. He also didn’t want to feel the sting of that particular implement of punishment again and the idea there was something even worse really worried him.

The throbbing of his well chastised bottom was calming a little thanks to the heavy cushioning he now wore but the sudden thought of it happening again brought an unexpected flush as he wet his new soft pristine nappy for the first time.

#

The family appeared to be going through some kind of transition.

The microbes destroying Billy’s organs.

Hormones messing with Lizzie’s mind.

Neurons giving Sandra a strange euphoria.

Only Dee-Dee was unaffected by all this internal mayhem but was in no position to influence any of it. She looked on and occasionally hid behind her own protection when it all seemed to be getting a bit much. She’d happily been involved in planning and conspiring with mummy and Lizzie against Billy but now saw she was being asked to be grown up as Billy once again became the centre of attention.

Lizzie had told her that now Billy was the baby of the family, he needed looking after, he needed to wear protection and (Lizzie had said this in a conspiratorial whisper), he needed his two big sisters to help him come to terms with it all.

Dee-Dee wasn’t sure if she could do all this; after all, she quite liked her own protection now and didn’t want her moments with Lizzie to end if Billy was going to be getting all the attention… again.

Meanwhile, Billy was finding it difficult to believe his mother would do something like this. He knew it was well within the bounds of something Lizzie would dream up, but his mother?

It wasn’t fair. Why was she being so cruel? He thought she was being so understanding about his illness, but it was all a charade, he felt deceived.

He was very much in denial by simply not seeing his massive contribution to this whole scenario.

He looked down at the huge padding between his legs, the shiny plastic armour that gripped everything so tight – why would his mother think this was a good idea? He should be out with his mates climbing trees, camping, swimming in the… well, perhaps not swimming…

He shouldn’t be treated as a baby and the tantrum that was building changed to yet another deluge of sobbing… the warmth of his pee spreading in his protection making him think twice about the potency of his objection.

#

Sandra was content.

She’d set out the rules so he could be in no doubt what the consequences were if he disobeyed her and, as she was very busy with her much more prestigious job, knew she would have to rely on Elizabeth to keep him to them.

Should he want to go out with his mates, he could do as long as he was wearing his infantile fortification and had someone suitable supervising. Other clothing was optional but only at her or Lizzie’s discretion.

He wouldn’t be allowed to just smooch around the house or avoid his friends. Family outings and people visiting would not be an excuse for him to hide away; he’d have to face society dressed in his thick protection. How he handled it would be up to him but should he make a scene, Sandra made it very clear that she would punish him in public and wouldn’t spare his embarrassment.

She also made it clear that for his ‘benefit’ she’d bought very strong and heavy see-thru plastic pants. She’d made it abundantly obvious that he would be only wearing such clothing at home… and in public should he not behave.

They were tough and quite watertight but revealed the nappy underneath.

However, should an accident occur, it could be noticed immediately and the appropriate action undertaken.

They creaked and noisily crackled when worn but were an absolute deterrent to any accidental faecal or urine accidents; the pharmacist had been very resolute about the quality of the product.

Billy was going to have a constant reminder, through the sound and feel of his protection, just why he was being punished in this way.

To be in a position to be able to hide even part of this childish stuffing he would have to earn the right to shorts by being on his best behaviour… all the time.

He’d simply brought the entire thing down on himself. It was entirely his own fault.

Yes, Sandra was quite content in how she was dealing with her wayward son.

#

He would be wearing a nappy and soft vinyl pants to sleep in but his daywear would consist of this new formal protection. He wasn’t going to like it one bit but Sandra planned on getting him used to the idea by being consistent. Any dissention had to be nipped in the bud fairly early on so, after a few attempts she came up with a surprising schedule. A schedule that would make sure he was up and dressed appropriately before she went to work. No more lie-ins and more especially, so she could make sure he started the day as she intended he finish it, well protected and under firm supervision.

His life would take on a very strict regime and for which she produced a timetable.

7.00. Get up, toilet and morning change.

7.15. Breakfast

7.30 – 10.00. Play

10.00 – 10.15. Juice and snacks

10.15 – Noon. Play

Noon – 12.30. Lunch

12.30 – 1.30. Nap time

1.30 – 1.45. Change

1.45 – 4.30. Play

4.30. Evening Meal

5.00 – 6.30. TV and family time

6.30 – 7.00. Bath time

7.00 Bedtime and story (the story was added by Lizzie when she saw the timetable, she thought all babies liked a story at the end of the day).

All nappy changes would have to be supervised; Billy could not be trusted to do it properly himself. The only thing he was allowed to do for himself was play and often even that would be directed by Lizzie.

Sandra had to agree with Lizzie that it was all very juvenile but, as she was at pains to point out to her ‘thoughtful’ daughter, his action had led to him having to wear nappies, so it was only right he should just carry on wearing them.

To Sandra this just seemed to make perfect sense. He’d brought it on himself and, as they’d found out over the past few days, his behaviour was better when wearing protection. They had better control over his life the less control they allowed Billy to have even if that meant removing everything that pointed to him being an eleven year-old boy.

This of course was music to Lizzie’s ears.

#

Now she had her boy and her system in place Sandra asked the other three boy’s parents for their input. She’d heard them complaining about their lack of respect, and although each boy was slowly recovering the overall result had been a huge strain on the families concerned.

Sandra offered a possible respite should any of the other parents feel they needed it; a readymade babysitter and a chance to be temporarily free from their obnoxious, untrustworthy sons.

When Sandra had discussed her thoughts with Lizzie her daughter couldn’t believe what was being asked, it was all so perfect. If there was a word for when all ideas and plans mesh together to produce a satisfying result, Lizzie didn’t know it but what her mother was suggesting must be it.

Lizzie had come up with the idea of making her brother and little sister babies for the holiday simply because the idea amused her. She liked the idea they’d be totally reliant on her but now, well, sheesh, what a cosmic turn up. Providence had proved – be careful what you wish for… but in this case… well!

She was quite astounded that her mother wanted to enforce almost exactly the regime she had planned on executing for her own entertainment, and was going to be well paid for taking on such responsibility. Not only that, but she would possibly be in charge of Billy’s little posse of friends who were in need of the same discipline.

She was overwhelmed by the hugeness of the project but already her mind was working on ways to make it fun… for her at least. The thought of having total control over four eleven year-old boys was mind blowing. As her motherly thoughts towards Billy gave way to the more embarrassing aspects of his and his friend’s new situation, she giggled to herself, full of the fun she anticipated.

Although Sandra would be home some of the time, she made it clear to the other parents that during the day Elizabeth would be supervising Billy and that, for a reasonable fee, had agreed to act as babysitter to anyone else who cared to join him. Thus relieving them of the worry of finding their own babysitter and having the confidence in the abilities of her daughter (she’d waxed lyrically about how fantastic Lizzie had been during the worse aspects of Billy’s illness), they all seemed impressed.

#

Dave, Mitch and Aaron had all, at one time or another, complained in general about Billy’s big sister.

They moaned about how pushy she was and how often she’d show Billy up by making him do things he didn’t want to do. They complained how she spoiled the fun the boys would be having by her aggressive and demanding nature.

After many secret phone calls between all parents, and to the total ignorance of their boys, Sandra’s plan was eagerly pounced upon with surprising fervour. It appeared that she’d come up with a strategy that solved a number of concerns, her recent successful negotiating skills for her job definitely working in her favour.

Between all the parents it was agreed that until they thought their boys were trustworthy enough to observe the rules they would be treated as toddlers. Sandra had gone out of her way to explain what she intended doing to her son and why. She hoped the other parents would join her in the enterprise seeing as how the problems the boys now endured were self-inflicted. She wanted Billy at least to learn a very specific lesson – ‘listen to your mother’ and argued that it was an opportunity to retrain them all at a very basic level.

Despite one or two small worries her overall plan was accepted and, as the boys, like Billy, were already wearing nappies to cover the occasional night time accident, there was no reason not to start immediately.

Part of this ‘quick acceptance’ was because what Sandra was offering meant that the other parents would be relieved of many of their own worries. Their boys had been a huge problem before their illness dictated their messy bedridden life and the idea that they didn’t have to worry about a babysitter was a huge bonus. Lizzie’s hard won reputation was about to used and the boys’ lives were going to change quite dramatically.

It was decided that now Billy had all but recovered Dave, Mitch and Aaron could visit. In fact, what was actually being arranged was for them all to be left at the Southall residence each week day where Lizzie would babysit the four boys for the duration of the long school break. This would give the other families freedom to get on with their lives, whilst the disruptive and argumentative element was kept busy elsewhere.

Although the Southall home was originally meant as a drop off and pick up venue on a daily basis arrangements could be made for one or more of the boys to stay over. Sandra would be home on an evening to supervise, so if the parents and family wanted a break for a few days, they could go off and leave the troublesome part of the family in the responsible care of the Southall’s.

Sandra jokingly called it a ‘The Canal Boys Summer Camp’ so his mates were under no illusion that the cause of their strange and shameful situation was all Billy’s fault.

This proposal appealed greatly to all the stressed parents and Sandra’s standing in this very specific little community soared as a result of such a generous offer.

Lizzie would be well paid for taking on the responsibility of looking after such a boisterous group but her charges would have restrictions placed upon them and it would be up to her to enforce the rules that, in the past, they all seemed so at ease breaking.

#

From the tentative and dismissive way they had referred to Lizzie to their parents, it was already noted that they were fairly fearful of her. They thought she was a bit of a tyrant and her reputation at school had also filtered down to some of the parents.

She was a bit of a bully, very authoritative, sure of her abilities and so wasn’t going to be a push over. Only a few older students at school challenged Lizzie, whilst the younger kids tried to keep out of her eye-line.

Her reputation was such that, perhaps she wouldn’t have to work so hard to make sure the boys were kept in line.

The ‘summer camp’ meant no unsupervised activity without a grown-up or other designated responsible person being around. It would be made clear that any infringement of the rules would mean punishment, and not just the threat of punishment.

Sandra’s timetable was to be the basis for what was to take place.

Strict bed times would be enforced; protection would be worn at all times, so nappies would become the main clothing and were there to be used. Soiled nappies would only be changed by the ‘responsible’ other person or their delegated helpers. No boy was allowed to change himself, any attempt to do so would result in severe punishment, which didn’t mean the loss of TV privileges, it meant a trip over the knee and a firm spanking.

The boys had to know that through their own actions they had gotten themselves in to nappies so it was going to be through wearing their nappies they would be able to get out of this punishment. They were to be left in no doubt it was a punishment and the more they fought it, the longer they would have to wear them. If their behaviour improved then perhaps more favourable attire would be found. However, if it didn’t, the threat was… they would be wearing protection into the new school term until it did.

Lizzie liked these rules and wanted to take them a little further.

She came up with a chart where her ‘babies’ would earn stars or spanks for being good or naughty. If they achieved a certain number of stars they were to be given a treat, if they got a certain number of crosses on the chart, then a good spanking was what they could look forward to. When no adult was around she would be in complete and total control of their lives from the moment they arrived in the morning until they were taken home again.

In getting everyone to agree these terms Sandra used the same argument Lizzie had used when Billy and Dee-Dee had begun bedwetting. She suggested, quite forcefully, that to get the best results from this plan of action all parents needed to be on the same page.

It was no good if, once the boys got home, the rules were changed. A united front would have a better chance of success and any weakness in one party would probably mean the undermining of the entire project.

Sandra thought it only fair to those who did agree shouldn’t be destabilised by anyone who didn’t. To this end she emailed the timetable and chart info and wanted complete accord before things were finalised. She was adamant that if any parent didn’t subscribe to this ‘manifesto of action’ she’d rather they didn’t take part than disrupt the entire thing.
Perhaps surprisingly, all the parents thought the scheme worth a go and decided, in relatively quick time, it was an endeavour worth pursuing.

#

The boys were being railroaded into something they had no say in, or knowledge about. The parameters of the ‘summer camp’ had been set without consultation on their part and so it was a done deal.

They didn’t know it but with a promise that they’d be seeing their friends in the very near future, the first part of the plan was put into action.

When the other three boys were sleeping their closets, just like Billy’s, were emptied and clothes removed. They had no idea what was about to happen but as they were all still wearing night time protection, because of the few bugs still running rampant in their system, the first part of their new morning ritual was underway… with relative simplicity.

All the parents had been given time to prepare for this day so had already, from various sources, accrued those items needed; nappies, disposables, plastic and rubber pants, t-shirts and shorts.
When they woke up each boy was greeted with a firm parent who would brook no argument. Aaron and Mitch found themselves having to eventually conform to the new dress code after a sound spanking from their fathers, whilst Dave was already in the dog house and dare not defy his mother.

Like Billy he’d been acting up and had become quite an annoyance to his parents and especially his slightly younger sister who he constantly picked on. His arrogance and feeling of superiority was only brought slightly down to earth when he first filled his pants.

Realising their part in letting their son get to have such an overbearing attitude his bottom had received many beatings since the start of his ‘troubles.’ He’d found fairly quickly that sympathy was in short supply when it came to an ill-disciplined boy who defied his parents. Now, with much of his haughtiness knocked out of him was fearful of more to come if he didn’t do exactly as instructed.

His parents, Jean and William Thomas had been at the forefront of supporting Sandra’s plan and it had been their enthusiasm that helped get the other parents to so quickly agree.

David didn’t like wearing the thick disposable and nursery print plastic pants under his cotton shorts because no matter how he tried to pull them up, they still revealed the thick padding. He was mortified when told he was going somewhere that morning but found a quick slap soon had him towing the line without any further defiance. There had been a strap which had efficiently got the message home. The over-bearing youngster was now a very timid little boy scared of doing the wrong thing.

#

Mitch’s parent, Anna and Douglas Baker, were far more easy-going but had come to realise that it was their free and easy attitude that had led their son to become such a self-centred and obnoxious little bastard.

When he’d come down with his problem, the soaked bed being quite a surprise, they had been very sympathetic. Even when he’d filled his pants during the afternoon, they’d still been compassionate but, again like Billy, he hadn’t told them the truth. So, when they eventually found out… that benevolence ran out. He had simply been told too many times about the dangers and they realised he might influence his two younger brothers by his thoughtless action so steps had to be taken.

Although the antibiotics had proved successful there were still some lingering problems. This was the reason that all the boys were still wearing protection at night as a complete recovery had yet to happen. Mitch hated wearing his protection in front of his younger brothers and was very annoyed, often threatening or hitting them, if they so much as giggled at his embarrassment.

Sandra’s possible solution was the clarion call to the Bakers for them to fix something, or at least to try and make things better. It was amazing the speed in which they were soon on-board.

Mitch woke up to find a nappy, thick blue rubber pants and a blue t-shirt ready for the day ahead and despite his blubbing and threats, was finally dressed for his trip. He had no idea where he was going, and didn’t like the way he was dressed but had no say in what was going to happen. The threat of a life time wearing a nappy if he acted up was enough to eventually quell his disobedience.

#

Aaron’s father, Steven, had taken his only son on a hiking expedition into the hilly countryside, which was something the two bonded over. Steven was a very outdoorsy type of guy and his son loved to be tramping the hills, walking the dales or camping next to a lake with him whenever he could. He was the apple of his father’s eye.

They did everything together and Steven was clear about Aaron always being aware by planning ahead; explaining how to keep safe, taking precautions against inclement weather, always having the correct equipment and clothing. It was under these conditions when Aaron, miles from anywhere, but thankfully on a well-trodden track, felt the first pain in his tummy. A couple more stabs, and a few feet further on screamed in agony as his bowel gave way and filled his undies and shorts.

The pain was so intense that, like Billy, he rolled around in torment as his body tried to expel everything that was in him. He rolled on the grass verge with streams of brown liquid filling the seat of his pants and dribbling down his legs. It was a mess and unfortunately one his father hadn’t thought to provide for.

Under the circumstances there wasn’t an awful lot they could do. However, thankfully another passing walker, a lady pushing a pram and watching over a couple of kids, stopped to offer help. She seemed better equipped for such an accident as she produced wipes, a cloth and soothing words for the distraught boy.

However, she also had a couple of large plastic rubbish bags and spare disposable nappies, which had been destined for her kids should they have an accident out in the wilds. She suggested to Steven that he strip his son out of the filth, do his best to clean him up and put him in one of the disposables until there was something better. She even fashioned a sort of plastic shirt from one of the bin bags that he could put his arms and head through so he wasn’t completely naked.

The rustling walk back (his disposable and plastic sack swished together noisily with each step) was slow but mercifully uneventful as Aaron, led by his father, sorrowfully completed the trip; his eyes misted in tears so he didn’t take much notice of just how he looked. The black bin bag only reached down to his crotch so the drooping disposable could easily be seen as he and his father hesitantly manoeuvred themselves back to the car.

Steven slowly led his son to the car park which was next to a large café hikers and lorry drivers used. There he was able to clean him up a little better but thought it best to get him home with some urgency.

With just two miles to go before their house, Aaron had felt that pain again and filled his disposable. It did it’s best to contain as much as it could but there was a disaster on the front seat.

Steven was perplexed on what was happening to his son but knew it appeared more serious than a simple gastro-intestinal upset.

In the meantime Aaron’s mother Julia had discovered the wet sheets from the morning so was already on the war-path for when he returned.

Once through the door the shitty little boy was in big trouble, but after a thorough clean up his mother, unprompted by anything other than preventing further mess, slipped him back into an old nappy and plastic pants. These had been left over from his ‘difficult early school problems’ so once he was well protected sent him to bed, where, apart from a trip to the doctors, he stayed, suitable encased.

It was just as well as he had several terrible experiences before they were able to get the doctor to prescribe something. Meanwhile, Julia was determined that any mess would be contained with Aaron, it was his crap and was damned if it was going to interfere with the running of the household. She fortified his nappy with large thick white rubber pants so that nothing could leak and all would be held safely until time for a change.

Steven was a little more sympathetic than Julia though both were unsure of the cause of his problem. His mother hated the fact that he’d tried to hide his bedwetting incident; she saw it as a lack of trust. She’d noticed other things that Aaron had done or said that later proved untrue or simply a downright lie and no longer trusted her son.

Both were worried he was fast becoming a secretive liar and that wasn’t how he was brought up. So, when they found out about the boys swimming in the canal, and that they were all suffering from intestine problems that were giving them the ‘squirts’, they knew something had to be done.

Word had spread between the affected parents quickly but it was ‘that Southall woman’ who, though not flavour of the month, had crystallised them together with a plan of action.

No one thought the way Sandra did, but with encouragement from their friends Jean and William Thomas, and the knowledge that Aaron’s other school mates, Dave, Billy and Mitch were going to be part of this ‘experiment’, Steven and Julia were soon equally involved in the enterprise.

He was made ready for ‘summer camp’ wearing very thick protection and voluminous white rubber pants, he cried, kicked and screamed and begged not to have to go as his father forcefully led him to the car.

Aaron felt the humiliation grow as they headed to an unknown destination. His dad was trying to be cheerful and upbeat saying he was going to be with his friends, which didn’t help the panic that swept into Aaron’s nappy in a huge unfettered spurt.

#

Billy had had a very strange and fitful night. The spanking had scared and scarred him and every time he slipped into slumber he relived the powerful beating he’d endured. That was all his mind could come up with, his mother really setting his butt on fire with that awful spoon. The spoon was featuring heavily in his thoughts and dreams.

Even though he’d spent the last few days desperate to be relieved of his infantile nappy, he’d woken up messy and soaked. His bottom felt sore from the spanking but, whereas before he might speak and have some attitude, he was deathly silent as his mother cleaned him up and changed him for the day ahead. He was fearful of saying or doing the wrong thing and so, without so much as a murmur, saw himself fitted into his new, daily uniform.

To Billy the nappy felt thicker, his mother having added extra booster soak pads simply because he’d had such a messy night. He saw it as further punishment; she saw it as a simple precaution. However, with the heavy plastic see-thru pants covering it all… everyone could make up their own minds.

He was at an all-time low. His mother’s accusatory words and heavy hand had done a great deal to knock his usual spirit. Never in all his life had he been so frightened of what was going to happen. When his father had been handcuffed in front of him and taken off to jail, it hadn’t worried him but this… this was something he hadn’t bargained for and was fearful where it might end.

His normal grumbling was also very restrained as he felt the tightness hugging his groin, the t-shirt he’d been given to wear was one of Lizzies – white with a large blue smiling bear on the front. It had been one of her favourites when she was six and it fitted Billy perfectly. He’d also noticed that there was a pair of very small matching shorts, which he assumed rightly, would be to wear should he venture out anywhere.

He sighed and sobbed at his predicament but that was all he could do, the threat of a severe spanking making him hold his tongue. He felt the anger build up but yet another sudden spurt of pee into his bolster soak-pad stifled any thought of an outburst.

It was over an early subdued breakfast that he was informed that he would be having visitors; some of his school friends were coming over to spend some time with him.

He was horrified that his mates would see him dressed like he was and began to cry. He pleaded with his mother for it not to happen but she took no notice and merely reminded him that any argument would mean a visit from ‘the spoon’… or worse.

Leaving the threat there she turned her attention to her youngest.

After many reassuring conversations with Dee-Dee, Sandra had partially convinced her she had no need for protection. She was sat at the table in her little pink skirt and glittery top but with no sign of her usual plastic pants peeking out from beneath. She was back, for the time being at least, to her big girl princess knickers, which of course made Billy feel even more like the baby of the family.

Of course Dee-Dee and Lizzie were both on board with what their mother had planned so were very encouraging, saying, after all this time being on his own it was about time he had some friend over to play with. From the silent tears streaming down his face that didn’t look likely but he had no option.

#

Everyone arrived at the Southall’s within minutes of each other. The three cars unburdened themselves of their reluctant cargos as each boy stood apprehensively wearing just their t-shirts and protection, although Dave at least had a thin pair of cotton shorts covering up his thick padding.

A scared and embarrassed Billy was there to ‘greet’ them dressed in his childish armour, also there in welcome was his mother and sisters.

“Hi boys,” Sandra smiled, “welcome to summer camp – The Canal Boys Summer Camp – a camp designed just for those boys who take no notice of their parents to the dangers of swimming in filth.”

Aaron and Billy weren’t the only ones who’d already wet because both Mitch and Dave had, thanks to nerves and unrestrainable pee, felt their nappies grow warmer during the trip over.

They stood uncertainly each trying not to stare at the others thick protection but failing miserably as a feeling of dread and embarrassment filled their bodies. Their already damp nappies were joined by even more leaking piss as each wondered just exactly what their parents had signed them up to.

“You can thank Billy for encouraging you all to go swimming and ending up in nappies but, as you all seemed happy to follow him in this reckless pursuit… we thought you might like to follow him with his punishment.”

At this point she ran her hand over Billy’s thick protection, his hard shiny plastic pants glowing radiantly in the warm morning sun; the metal of the two huge nappy pins sparkling as if to draw attention to these items of total infantilism, his bulky fabric nappy easily discernible through the glossy plastic.

Billy was surprised to see his friends dressed in much the same fashion as he was and for some reason he was both pleased and grossed out by it. However, the snarl on the faces of the other boys was definitely not one of brotherhood.

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

(Visited 165 times, 1 visits today)

Billy’s Fault Part 5

This story is written by Les Lea

Billy’s mind was overflowing with anger at the way he’d been conned into wearing a nappy. It was they who’d spiked his food to make him shit himself; it was they who’d somehow made him wet the bed. None of this was his fault. He would be wary of anything they said or did from now on but the first thing to do was get out of this stupid nappy.

He rushed upstairs to his room and, out of sight of Lizzie, yanked off his plastic pants, ripping the vinyl in the process, and dragged down the weighty nappy. The soaker pad was yellow and bloated with pee but he left it on the floor and headed to the bathroom to sponge down.

Even though his tummy cramped and his penis burned at times, he was just too angry to care.

A quick damp scrub and he headed back to his room, found a pair of briefs and slipped them on. He pulled off his t-shirt and put his favourite football shirt on, then grabbed a pair of jeans and quickly zipped himself in. He immediately felt better. Socks and trainers were next before he stood in front of his mirror and looked back at an eleven year-old boy and not some supersized toddler.

His throat was still parched and, as he made his way back to the bathroom, past the discarded ripped vinyl pants and urine soaked nappy to get a glass of water, his confidence grew now such clothing was no longer part of his life.

As he quenched his thirst he surveyed the scene and it was with a sense of achievement that this act of independence, which he knew was a long time in coming, had been needed to reaffirm his self-worth.

Billy was satisfied that the thick, restrictive padding was where it should be, in a messy pile on the floor and not gripping his groin. He’d let himself be coerced into believing they were necessary but all they did was make him into a big baby. No more would he allow his mum, sister or anyone to make him wear a nappy… they wouldn’t con him again, of that he was sure.

His stomach was rumbling in all the excitement but he was glad to be out of his stupid baby clothes.

He was a boy on a mission and that was to be as far away from his suffocating family as possible.

All he had to do to be free was to stride out the front door and go and see his friends. There was no intention of returning to play with his silly sister or being subjected to Lizzie’s authority.

The exhilaration he felt now he was wearing his own clothes, the stuff he liked, and not subject to Lizzie’s or his mother’s views, made him feel strangely elated. A shiver of freedom rippled through his body but, there was another pang in his stomach that he tried to avoid as a brief spurt of hot pee shot into his clean underpants.

It was typical of Billy to not yet to piece together what the doctor had said with his current situation… and that situation was his own fault. He had swum in the canal but still the connection of these strange and painful tremors evaded him. He was now full of blame, and that was squarely centred on his ‘scheming’ family.

Just as he made for the front door Lizzie caught him and demanded to know what he was doing.

“I’ve had enough of all this fucking baby stuff. I’m off out to be with my friends and…”

“Don’t you swear at me you little fucker…” Lizzie was in her no messing motherly attitude “Mum says you have to stay here, and the doctor says…”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, blah, blah, blah… I don’t bloody care.”

Foul language poured from Billy’s lips as he continued to complain loudly about being treated as a baby, how it was all their fault and how he wasn’t going to put up with it anymore… he was off to meet up with his mates.

Although Lizzie was livid at this act of defiance she was also surprised at how he knew she had something to do with him wetting himself. However, she had other things to worry about at that moment so tried to reason with him saying it was the doctor’s instruction to…

Not believing a word of her explanation, Billy stormed out the door and made his way quickly down the path.

Now convinced she needed to act, Lizzie was about to give him a crack and drag him back indoors but he turned on her and yelled.

“Touch me again and when I’m bigger I’ll beat the fucking crap out of YOU.”

The malice in his voice as he delivered this line made Lizzie do a double-take. It was the first time he’d threatened her in such an aggressive way and it took her by surprise.

Noticing her hesitation he turned and speeded up his exit.

He was right in his opinion, girls ruined everything. They were controlling and had all ganged up on him… he needed to be with his mates.

Having had a quick think about his threat, Lizzie dismissed it and was about to haul him back in when he suddenly grabbed his stomach, doubled over and fell to the ground. Less than five seconds later he was violently filling the seat of his jeans with another messy purge.

The agony was brief but intense as Billy eliminated a disgusting, smelly concoction of waste from his body. Without the thick protection he’d been wearing the mess went everywhere. He rolled around in his own filth trying to make the pain go away, which it did in a matter of moments but by then the damage was done. Billy lay exhausted in a disgusting soggy mass unable to comprehend what had just happened.

His sisters looked on in surprise but didn’t rush to help. Lizzie had no idea why he was crapping his pants the way he was but thought her shitty little brother deserved all he got. Dee-Dee was just shocked. Shocked at the way her brother was oozing stuff through his clothes. Unconsciously, but gratefully, she hugged her own protection hoping the same thing wouldn’t happen to her.

However, their mother had told them all to stay at home because of what the doctor had ordered and to keep Billy in protection. He’d defied them, thinking he could do what he liked, so, as far as Lizzie was concerned, had received his comeuppance.

Lizzie looked down at the pained expression on Billy’s face.

“The doctor says you’re still infected and need to wear protection… what on earth got into you, you, you – STUPID FUCK HEAD?”

#

Billy was just a weeping messy heap hugging his stomach and not daring to budge. He was afraid that any further movement would cause him to explode in his pants as another searing pain shot along the length of his penis and cramp grabbed at his stinky bottom. Another stream of burning pee burst through his already sodden jeans, whilst a stabbing pain forced him to release yet move foul liquid into the steaming stinky seat of his pants.

For those brief spasms he could do nothing to contain anything that wanted out of his body although, once they passed, he wailed in mortified shame for help.

Lizzie had a good mind to leave him there but realised she’d been put in charge and this would reflect badly when her mother got home. Reluctantly, she helped her brother up and guided him to the back garden. Billy just wanted to get cleaned up and go to bed, the misery of his situation taking away all his strength and ability to offer resistance.

However, Lizzie didn’t want to trail the shitty boy through the house so took him into the back garden where she helped him strip out of his messy garments. His clothes were a foul-smelling disgrace; from underwear to jeans, to shirt, to socks, everything was just a filthy brown soaked mass.

Once naked, she hosed him down with freezing cold water, the shock of which sent him into hyperventilation as he struggled to catch his breath.

Billy put up a slight, though ignored, protest as Lizzie instructed him to turn around so she could flush all the crap from his body. She asked Dee-Dee who was standing looking stunned at her naked brother (who was shivering under the constant flow of cold water), to go and get a couple of old towels from the pile they kept in reserve for ‘accidents’.

“Not the good towels,” Lizzie emphasised. “The old ones we use to mop stuff up with.”

This was the same pile she’d fashioned his towel-cum-nappies from which he’d had to wear for his trip into town.

She could see her brother shivering but every crevice had to be sluiced out to make sure no crap remained. She decided to hose his clothes down later and leave them to soak overnight in a light bleach solution… but they were in quite an awful state and might not be redeemable.

Billy’s teeth were chattering and he was also shivering with trepidation. The fact that he’d removed his protection, shit so violently and messed his clothes was sure to bring down untold wrath from his mother.

Dee-Dee returned with a bundle of grainy old rags which Lizzie then used to dry off her still blubbering brother.

“Mum’s going to go ballistic.” She shared her thoughts with an already fearful Billy.

Billy knew this wasn’t an understatement. If indeed all this had been planned to keep him in a nappy he couldn’t see how it was going to go well when she got home. However, at that moment he was just trying to keep warm as his older sister frenziedly rubbed him dry.

Once satisfied he was clean she guided him back up to his room where she deliberately made sure he knew his place.

“I don’t want any argument or you’ll get a crack… understand?”

Billy was already panicked so didn’t need her to threaten violence, he nodded weakly.

She picked up the cast-off, well used nappy and ripped plastic pants and looked at Billy with contempt.

“You’re a bloody stupid arsehole,” she shook the rejected items under his nose.

“You’ve ruined a new pair of pants and look… look… LOOK,” she was angry, “your nappy’s soaked and you still thought you didn’t need one.”

There was more than anger in her voice as she berated him for being a selfish, self-centred big baby who shit and pissed himself and still thought he was a big boy. Her remarks were meant to hit home and hit home they certainly did. Her malicious words scored a bull’s eye… he was left feeling useless and inconsequential.

A few minutes earlier he thought he was in control. Now, as Lizzie cleaned him up, he realised that any power he had was expelled from his body along with the crap. He was a very contrite eleven year-old who was about to be returned, with some degree of force and resignation, to a nappy wearing eleven year-old toddler.

Lizzie was in a ‘no messing’ mode as she applied a very thick layer of anti-rash cream. She piled it around his genitals and over his bottom, resisting the temptation to give his hide the promised spanking. She knew her mother would probably want first go at that particular target once she knew what had happened.

Gathering a huge disposable, she added a couple of heavy soaker pads and fastened him in. Billy had remained passive all the way through the operation; he really was very scared of both his sister and the thought of what his mum would do when she got home.

He’d literally and figuratively made a mess of everything.

The resentment of being put back into a nappy was not augmented by his usual belligerence just the simple knowledge that there was no alternative and he’d played his hand very badly. He was so shattered and frightened his body shook as he unprotestingly let Lizzie pull the tapes tightly together, the thickness of the padding forcing his legs wide apart.

He wanted to accuse her. Blame her and mum for all that was happening to him but, now in the state he was in, it seemed such a stupid allegation.

Worried that he may well shit himself again Lizzie pulled up a pair of clear vinyl pants, but not content with only that thin layer of water-proofing, she then covered them with a pair of much thicker rubber ones she’d shop-lifted. These were roomier but gripped much tighter, their dull creamy colour offering no access, or exit, at all.

“There… just to be on the safe side… an extra level of protection.”

The new, firmer fortification clutched his waist and legs in a vice-like grip. Any thought of protest died on his lips as he was ordered to stay in bed, she didn’t want to bother about him whilst she had to attend to his filthy clothes and keep an eye on Dee-Dee.

Thoroughly rebuked, a weak and forlorn looking Billy settled under a thin sheet, the room was warm from the day’s heat and sun was still coming in through the window. Wearing only this ‘extra level of protection’, his clean, thick, secure padding offered some comfort from his recent experience.

Although his teeth were still chattering he wasn’t sure if this was from the cold water or his fever had gotten worse. He was just too weak to think properly. Eventually, totally exhausted, he slipped into a deep but troubled sleep.

#

Sandra Southall had a terrific morning. The negotiations at work had gone very well and resulted in the customer signing a rather lucrative contract for the firm. Not only had she brought in this particular client but by getting him to invest in the future of the company, it guaranteed the workforce’s livelihood for several years to come. Sandra received a huge cash bonus and promotion, all of which meant that the Southall family would no longer be worrying about their finances.

That was the good news.

Unfortunately, this also meant the workload increased, although now Sandra would at least be getting a reasonable salary for her efforts, it still meant she wasn’t able to give her kids the time and effort needed.

However, once those negotiations were complete and everything was signed off, yet before she launched herself with gusto into her new position, she decided it was time to give her attention over to her son – her lying, rule-breaking little boy.

For quite a while now Billy had been disruptive. Even before his father had been sent to prison he’d been a little sod to everyone. Sandra was exasperated by his lack of respect to her and his often nasty asides to his younger sister. Although he seemed scared of Elizabeth, he still tried to undermine her at every opportunity and be difficult over every request.
It was time to fix that attitude… permanently.

She didn’t want to appear vindictive but also didn’t want her son thinking he could do what he liked. As she was more and more convinced Billy was on the wrong trajectory she was determined he was not going to turn out like his father – he had to know there would be consequences for every decision made or action taken. It may be a terrible load to put on an eleven year-old but she’d been letting things slide for ages, now she had to do something.

After what the doctor had said about food poisoning not being the cause of his problem she realised that he’d been lying to her. This was nothing new but for some reason it incensed her more on this occasion. She’d hoped that with her being busy and their father in prison her children would somehow have pulled together and helped one and other, in fact the opposite happened.

She resented the fact her son showed little or no respect and seemed to delight in making difficulties. He’d never quite grasped that they were in dire straits, or that life would be nicer if they all got along. No, he was a belligerent, narcissistic young man who needed firm discipline before things got totally unmanageable.

It seemed that the occasional spanking had made little difference to his attitude. Often, after such an event, he’d be on his best behaviour but all too soon he reverted to form. It had been a short-term solution, and not a very good one, but now her work life had changed for the better, it was time to do the same for her wayward son. She worried she may have left this action too late.

However, his illness had made a change. Lizzie said that once he’d been put in nappies there was a remarkable lack of his usual insolence. She’d noticed herself that the usual defiance had subsided and the only thing that had changed was the fact he was now wearing a nappy. Sandra wondered if through those babying items his rehabilitation could start.

#

A few calls to the parents of his friends and the full picture quickly emerged. Only three boys were suffering from a similar ‘tummy bug’ as Billy and she knew these three to be his closest schoolmates. Having said that, under cross-examination his fellow pupils were content to let it be known it was all Billy’s fault because he was the one whose idea it was to go swimming.

She was a bit peeved (although maintained her politeness) that none of the other parents had thought to contact her but, since her husband had been incarcerated, Sandra had been kept at arms-length by almost everyone – sympathy or understanding not being part of this town’s motto.

However, she was thankful they were grudgingly able to fill her in but got the sense that because it was ‘Billy’s fault’ their kid was ill; by extension they blamed her as well.
Somehow she needed to change this opinion.

The bug that the boys caught had made them all very sick and as a result were all laid up in bed at home. The spontaneous ‘accidents’ had been so messy and spectacular that similar precautions were taken, namely, the wearing of thick absorbent protection. So, like Billy, the three boys were wrapped in thick nappies which their parents hoped would at least contain the messy impact of their bacterial infestation.

As it turned out, like Sandra, each parent had been fully sympathetic until the truth became known and it seemed that they were all in agreement, now their boy had to wear a nappy for ‘safety’ reasons… that was how they’d stay for a while at least.

Although the antibiotics the doctor prescribed would clear up their problem, constant full protection was deemed a suitable chastisement for their reckless disregard of the rules for visiting the canal.

It was unexpected that all the parents were of the same mind for punishing their errant child.

Now she knew the full account of why Billy was shitting himself, to say Sandra was irritated with him was an understatement. Although it was sad that the poor boy was going through such a messy and distressing business, it was self-inflicted.

The fact that he hadn’t admitted his involvement when he had the opportunity rankled more and more and it was in this frame of mind she set about coming up with a plan to teach him a lesson. A lesson he wouldn’t forget and know that any future disobedience would have serious penalties.

Before she went home from work that afternoon Sandra picked up the doctor’s prescription and did a little more, specialist shopping. Now, with the knowledge of cash in her bank account, she didn’t have to worry too much about money anymore, she was able to indulge her plan and Billy would be the main beneficiary from her retail excursion.

#

In just the few hours since his anal disaster and being put to bed, a fever had taken hold of Billy as he writhed in semiconscious pain. Had anyone been in his bedroom as he tossed and turned they would have heard the crinkle and rustling of his protection squeaking in protest as he thrashed around. His bladder shooting agonising pain along his throbbing cock as spurt after spurt of burning pee filled the thick padding.

He may have been asleep but his body and brain were actively making sure they left him broken and irrational. Strange dreams grabbed hold and sent him twisting in fear, pain and suffering. His teeth chattered together yet his temperature soared. Sweat poured from him and soaked his bed as much as if he’d pissed himself, which he continued to do.

Had anyone been watching they would have seen a boy possessed, whilst his slinky cushioned protection inflated and stretched under a seemingly never ending stream of piss. Billy was no longer in the real world as those nasty little microbes invaded and occupied every aspect of his body and he passed into a state of near delirium.

#

Sandra arrived home full of intent on teaching her son a lesson he wouldn’t forget. In her head she had planned that once his illness was under control and he was getting back to his confident self she would hit him with his punishment. However, that wasn’t to be because she was met at the door by a very anxious Lizzie who said she’d phoned for the doctor.

Whilst waiting for Dr Harper Lizzie brought her mother up to speed on the events of the day. She told her about the swearing, the disregard of her instructions, the bolshie attitude and the final disastrous outcome in Billy’s pants and how she’d checked in on him and his temperature was soaring.

Sandra took all this in as she tried to comfort her incapacitated son. He did look in a bad way but oddly enough, the protection that Lizzie had wrapped him in was working fine and made Billy appear more like a wriggling toddler than a possessed sixth grader.

The doctor arrived and after administering a powerful antibiotic gave the family instructions on how best to treat Billy. She was convinced that the virus would be kept under control with regular doses and that he’d soon be back to his usual self. She smiled as if offering a happy solution to his recovery but both Sandra and Lizzie felt a shiver run down their spines at the suggestion of his ‘normality’.

Meanwhile, the doctor suggested that hygiene was paramount and that if possible he should be kept in disposables and, when they were full… she didn’t need to finish off the sentence they were aware of what needed to be done and nodded their agreement. They needed to keep themselves clean to prevent the spread. She gave them a list of things to do and a further list of how the treatment should continue from there on.

Not too much food in one go, a little and often rather than all at once.

Keep him hydrated but avoid dairy products like milk.

After the diarrhoea he would need to rebalance his electrolyte intake, so further instruction was given there.

Sandra confirmed that, after she’d checked with other parents, Billy had been swimming in the canal so the doctor had been correct in her diagnosis.

She explained that for the next few days the family were going to be busy looking after Billy as he would be very weak and vulnerable to other infections. She emphasised again how important hygiene was until he was back to his robust self.

The doctor left to a calm and sleeping Billy. Meanwhile, the family had a little talk about what to do next.

Dee-Dee insisted that she should keep wearing her nappy as the incidents of the day had scared her into thinking that the same thing could happen to her and she’d mess her pants. Lizzie and her mother agreed that it seemed, for the time being at least, a reasonable precaution, which was a relief to the youngest.

Once plans had been made on how to look after Billy Sandra was able to share her good news about the promotion. She also had gifts for them; Dee-Dee got a doll she’d been hoping for whilst Lizzie got her own mobile phone – Billy would have to wait for his.

As the antibiotics began to fight those invading microbes, an unconscious Billy peed out more fluid filling his already saturated nappy. It was Lizzie who suggested that the best way to feed him whilst in that state was to use a baby’s bottle full of the electrolyte and let him suckle on it. Sandra wasn’t convinced but when Lizzie went ahead and tried it anyway, she had to admit to its success, Billy was automatically feeding so this became the way to get fluids into him.

#

Once the initial fuss had calmed down Elizabeth shook her head. “So all this is self-inflicted?”

A murmur of repressed anger escaped her lips, which was echoed by Sandra.

“Yes, the bloody fool brought this entire thing on himself and the fact that he didn’t admit to it… well…”

She was a little lost for words.

For Lizzie it was a strange feeling. She’d wanted her annoying brother in nappies but wanted to be the cause of his embarrassment and not because he was just too stupid and had caused it himself. She felt cheated.

A hundred things were going through her mind at that moment but what she didn’t know was that similar thoughts were passing through her mother’s.

Later that night, as she was getting ready for bed, Dee-Dee was really insistent she should have similar thick protection like Billy. Although her mother said it wasn’t necessary the fear of something happening to her, and the sobbing that occurred until she was suitably encased, made for a strange new ritual. After witnessing the disaster in Billy’s pants she was simply terrified of messing her bed. Quite simply the baby of the family was terrified of having any more accidents.

Meanwhile, Billy had been changed into a thicker night time disposable and given a bottle containing the elements the doctor had advised for a full recovery, which he drowsily suckled on. Sandra was surprised to see how easily he took to it but his thirst needed quenching and as this was what was on offer, his automatic responses took over.

Once he’d emptied the bottle Lizzie took it away but replaced it with a dummy, which again she was pleased to see he sucked on with the ease he had the baby’s bottle.

Sandra came and stood next to her daughter looking down on the patient. Now he was resting she saw just how grown up her daughter was in making sure his bedding was straightened, he was tidy and how she checked to make sure he was still dry. The dummy seemed to settle him after the bottle so thought it must have been one of the many good ideas her eldest had.

They looked at each other and smiled.

Once more, when like this, a little angel emerged to take the place of Billy, it was only when he was awake and being a boy that he became such a pain.

His temperature was falling even if he was still more than a little out of it but there was obvious improvement. So, once these two operations were complete, getting the two youngest to bed, the two ‘women’ chatted about the last few days.

Sandra was still buzzing about the way her day at work had gone and now she had been promoted, hopefully things would get better… financially at least. Elizabeth was full of praise for her clever and hardworking mother and the mutual support was enmeshed with each appreciating the work of the other. Sandra didn’t like having to rely on Lizzie to the extent she did but her daughter never once complained, and for that, Sandra was eternally thankful.

Billy’s act of stupidity became the focus of their discussion and when Sandra explained that he wasn’t alone, his three best friends were also in the same position, they cheerily deliberated over what punishment would be suitable for the lot of them.

In amongst the easy banter a few ideas were voiced that Sandra had actually already considered, and when she found Lizzie in agreement smiled a knowing smile, whilst letting them develop in their own right.

In this cheerful, gossipy, confidential atmosphere it was agreed that there was something about Billy wearing a nappy that made him seem less troublesome, arrogant and more… normal. His bluster disappeared and that vulnerability his thick protection projected made his seem more a ‘loving’ little brother/son than the irritating brat he’d turned in to.

Enjoying this ‘girls only’ situation, and giggling like teenagers (even though only one of them was) they tried to outdo each other in one outrageous suggestion after another.

“No, no, no…” Lizzie laughingly interrupted one of her mother’s proposals, “he should be made to wear the nappy permanently. After all, he got himself into it… snicker … so… chuckle … it should be his reward until next school term.”

Of course this had been her plan since Billy’s first bedwetting incident and it had been going well so far, she really didn’t want it to stop. What was even better now Dee-Dee was a little paranoid about having a messy accident, it would be easier to keep them both under wraps, so to speak.

“We should take away all his clothes,” Lizzie continued jauntily as she made her proposal, “that way he couldn’t wear what he wanted… only… giggle… what he was given.”
Sandra confided that one of the things she’d given serious thought to was that her darling son would indeed be confined to nappies for some time, even to the extent she’d already bought further nappies and a set of thick plastic pants, which she intended would be his daywear. This was to be the present he received to mark his mother’s promotion… and an indication of how annoyed she was with him and this entire fiasco.

Now both were of a similar mind Lizzie was happy to go along and encourage her mother in her plan, even insisting that not only did he deserve it but as a punishment for the fear he’d induced in Dee-Dee. Lizzie was adamant that he had to pay for his reckless behaviour and all the trouble and upset he’d caused so added, as if to emphasise the point, she would include his mates in the punishment as well.

Sandra didn’t realise that Lizzie’s enthusiasm for such a punishment for Billy was already something she had envisioned on her own. However, the thought of his mates joining him in such a punishment got her mind thinking in a slightly different way and wondered if the other parents might share her ‘initiatives’.

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 4

Chapter 6

(Visited 173 times, 1 visits today)

A bit of mess – part 1

A bit of mess - part 1Looks like Trebor has woken up in a bit of a mess, thats really not a fun way to wake up.

Order by NoxVulpes

Draw and text by BabyStar

Source: http://www.furaffinity.net/view/30197636/

Yes it sure seems like someone have ended up in a very blushing situation here :( this sure is not something that you want to wake up whit :( I can sure understand way he is so terrify.

How and way did this happen? That i am sure he is thinking about now. Do you don’t think so to?

(Visited 194 times, 1 visits today)

Messy morning

Messy morning

Kohaku wants going potty in his bed

Kohaku belongs to thehidden

Draw and text by ConejoBlanco

Source: http://www.furaffinity.net/view/28296543/

To me it looks like Kohaku wants to go back to be wearing diapers again. Special now when he decide to do something like this. I dont think his mommy is going to like this when she found out what he has done.

(Visited 49 times, 1 visits today)

The baby business part 9

Copyright (c) 1995 by Babydoc.

Mrs. Warren held out the clipboard for Doug to read, But Doug had no interest in reading the contract. It didn’t matter what it said: he had to sign it, and with any luck he wouldn’t have to honor it. It was immaterial what it said.

“I’ll sign it. It doesn’t matter. Just give me the pen, and let me out of here,” he said irritably.

Mrs. Warren smiled, and found a pen in her purse. She’d had a couple of boys like this. She certainly didn’t care whether they read the contract. For her it served as one of her backup weapons, in the unlikely event that her right to punish her boys as she saw fit was ever questioned. But in her three years at this job, through many hundreds of spankings and other punishments, she’d never had a boy seriously question her authority. Not after he understood about the pictures, and had thought through what making a formal complaint would mean. She knew that the police would have a hard time believing the story, and would likely end up harassing her client more than they would her. The newspapers, Mrs. Warren knew, would love to get a story like this one, and if they did, her career would be over, certainly, but so would the lives of her clients. Imagine an adult male allowing himself to be diapered and spanked repeatedly, allowing himself to be tied in his bathtub until he soiled his pants, allowing himself to be photographed in that state, even going shopping for diapers in the first place. Her clients had all considered the possibility, she was sure, and once they saw the absurdity of their case, and realized the implications of pressing charges, they swallowed their pride and behaved themselves like good little boys.

The contract was so that in the event that she enrolled a stupid or crazy client into her program (someone who *couldn’t* comprehend how damaging “coming out” would be to their lives), she could protect herself legally when he made the insane choice to sue. And it was another tool for her to use in coercing her boys: “Yes, I think you WILL bend yourself over my knee. I’ve got a signed agreement which I could have enforced by law if I wanted. Would you like the police to help me spank you?” It was as vain a threat, of course, as her boys’ threats to sue, for none of them, including Mrs. Warren, really wanted that much attention focused on their activities. But perhaps her boys didn’t know that.

At any rate, she simply smiled as she held the clipboard and pen so that Doug, in his bound state, could sign, which he did without so much as glancing over the page.

“I knew you’d be a good boy eventually,” Mrs. Warren said sweetly. “You will want to read that, perhaps after I’ve left. I will also leave a more detailed summary of the rules of the program with you so you can start learning, and obeying, them tonight. I advise you to read through it carefully, as you will be held accountable for all the numerous rules of your ICP, and I will start punishing you even tonight if you break any of them.”

Doug wasn’t really listening. Just nod at her, he thought to himself. Pretend like you care, and then she’ll leave, and you can figure out what to do to get out of this mess.

“Now, I just need to go over a couple of things with you before we get you cleaned up and into a nice, fresh diaper. I’ve had a look around your apartment, so I’m pretty sure of my facts, but I always like to confirm them with new clients. You work in the grad school’s lab in preparation for applying for their program next year. Is that right?”

Doug, as distracted as he was, was still shocked. This lady had been through his private things! He felt even more violated and vulnerable. What business was it of hers? Was there any limit to her intrusiveness?

Mrs. Warren *was* actually sure of her facts, and went through this presentation simply to scare her young charges. She wanted them to think that she knew everything and couldn’t be fooled. The reality, actually, wasn’t that much different. She took Doug’s expression of disbelief as evidence that she was having the desired effect.

“And you grocery shop every Sunday at `The Grocery Place?'” Doug could only nod dumbly, wondering how she could possibly know so much about him. (In fact, Mrs. Warren always marveled at how much could be learned about a person who kept receipts, as Doug did…)

She went on to `check’ with him about where he banked, rented videos, dry-cleaned. He simply nodded at each revelation, accepting this as evidence of how smart she was and how difficult getting out of this situation would be. He would have argued with her about her right to rifle through his apartment, but as he was still tightly bound, this wasn’t really the time.

This, of course, was all information she needed in order to keep track of Doug during his initial probation period. She would require him to let her know where he was at all times when he left the house, and she was adept at arranging for surrogate “babysitters” to keep eyes on him all over town. She didn’t need to ask about his drugstore, since he would now be shopping exclusively at The Drugstore, her employer.

And when she had gone over everything, she did finally release him. She undid his cuffs and removed the rope to the back beltloop of his jeans. Doug lowered his arms and just spent a moment savoring the feeling of blood in his hands again. Then he stood, and felt some not-quite-dry effluent slide down his pants leg and drop out onto the bathtub floor. Mrs. Warren made him remove his pants in the tub while she watched. Doug didn’t care. He assumed she wanted to watch in order to embarrass him some more, but he was past being embarrassed today. So he was caught off guard when he glanced up after pulling his filthy jeans off and saw a flash go off. Mrs. Warren was recording this moment with a small automatic camera, and had captured him as he stood in his brown-stained underpants with semisolid brown goo caked on his legs, and with his soaked jeans at his feet. He cared a little more about this, but not enough. It was done. He just wanted to shower.

She kept watching and got several more pictures as he peeled off his disgusting underpants, soaked socks, and his relatively clean shirt. She had him put his underpants in one small clear plastic baggy, and all the rest of his clothes into another larger one. She told him the larger bag would be available to him if he wanted to wash the contents later. He would not, however, see his abused underpants again. He was told he wouldn’t need to.

Then she observed his shower, and handed him a towel with which to dry himself. He felt much better, but still felt dazed as he followed Mrs. Warren into his bedroom, where he looked around as he stood there naked. He saw two large bags of disposable diapers and several other containers of what he took to be the stuffer pads. On his dresser were neatly stacked the contents of yet another bag of disposables, with shorter stacks of the stuffer pads next to them. His underwear drawer was slightly open, and he could see that it no longer contained his underwear, but was stuffed full of plastic panties. On his queen-sized bed was spread a large changing sheet, and a diaper and pad were already laid out on it, with lotion, vaseline, oil, and powder standing by and ready for his use. While he was still absorbing the transformation his room had undergone, Mrs. Warren instructed him to climb up on the changing pad and put on the diaper.

“I’ll just watch to make sure you do a good job. We don’t want leaks.”

As he walked to the bed, his hands attempting to hide his genitalia, his felt his face turn red. This was obviously more embarrassing than with Mrs. Sheffield in the store, not only because he was being watched, but because the observer had seen him wet and soil himself, and knew he needed to be in the diaper. *He* knew that he didn’t, or at least he thought he didn’t. And putting this diaper on felt to him an awful lot like giving up, which his pride made it difficult to do. But his practical side started talking, too: Look, it said. You’re not giving up. You’re actually tricking her by making her THINK you’re giving in. In fact you’re just trying to get her to leave, so that you can think clearly enough to figure a way out of this mess. You’ll win this game later, but to make it work, you’ve got to make her think you’re a “good little boy” by gritting your teeth and putting on this diaper.

So Doug slowly walked over to the bed and gingerly crawled up onto the changing pad, next to the open diaper. He looked doubtfully at the arrangement of powders and lotions next to him.

“It’s up to you,” Mrs. Warren said, reading his mind. “You have to care for your own skin. These are just possibilities. The only thing I require is that you use powder. Because I like the smell. You’ll appreciate it, too, once you get a little more experience with dirty diapers. So pile that on, but feel free to experiment with the rest of the stuff here.”

Doug didn’t want to use anything at all, but he obediently picked up the powder and sprinkled some on the open diaper, then set the bottle down next to it.

Mrs. Warren shook her head. “Nice try. Keep going with the powder. I want you to put it on yourself AND in the diaper, and I’ll tell you when to stop.”

Doug crinkled up his nose, but he obeyed. He shook out a lot of powder into his crotch, and onto his thighs, then onto the diaper. She made him rub it in, and add several more handfuls to his bottom and stomach. When he was covered in powder, and nearly choking from the sweet perfume, she told him to put the diaper on. He carefully slid it under himself. She showed him how to center it and then fasten it lying down, so it fit best. He stood up carefully and noted with dismay how bulky the diaper felt now. Mrs. Sheffield had been right: this was way too much diaper for him. He could hardly bring his legs together, and there was no doubt that it would show clearly under any of the clothes he presently owned. This could be very bad. He’d never be able to hide it. But he was chagrinned to recognize that he only had himself and his libido to blame.

Mrs. Warren, however, seemed pleased. She stuck fingers into his waist and legs, testing the fit, and patted him on the rump, pronouncing him well-diapered. “I knew you could do it yourself. You know, Mrs. Sheffield thinks you’re something of an imbecile, or at least a little slow. She thought you’d need a lot of help.” She winked at him. “But I know better. So I’m going to be watching you very carefully.”

Doug got a chill down his spine. She was on to him. She knew he would be scheming. It was eerie the way she seemed to read his mind. He’d have to be very clever. Perhaps he’d even have to play along for longer than he’d thought before trying to escape, so that she’d let down her guard.

“Now, come downstairs and see what I’ve got for you.” Mrs. Warren led him downstairs wearing only his diaper. In the kitchen, she opened the refrigerator door, revealing a gallon jug of what looked like milk. She pulled it out and poured him a large glass.

“The diaper juice from before is very mild, but it is very long-lasting. It would ordinarily keep you rather…runny, for several days. So I want you to drink some special milk I have made to help slow your bowels down and to replace your electrolytes. The quicker you drink this milk, and the more of it you drink, the quicker your diarrhea will stop. So if the diarrhea gets worse, you need to drink more milk to fight it. Okay? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. If you can manage to drink this whole gallon by tomorrow, that ought to do the trick, and tomorrow you’ll get back to normal. Some people, I should warn you, though, do take a little longer to readjust.”

She set the glass in front of him. “Go ahead and drink this first glass now so I can make sure you at least get started.”

Doug nodded wearily, and drank it quickly down. He was disappointed that the diarrhea would last a while, and he was willing to try anything that would help. If it would help, he’d try to drink the whole gallon before dinner. It didn’t taste quite like milk; it was chalkier and slightly bitter. But since he had never had Milk of Magnesia, he didn’t recognize the taste, and assumed it was the extra medicine and electrolytes that made it taste funny.

In fact, this additional concoction of Mrs. Warren was designed to keep him very loose, out of control, and essentially diaper-dependent for at least the next few days. It would help get him started on the right track, and it amused her to think of Doug drinking this stuff to get rid of the very diarrhea it was causing. The more he drank, the worse it would be, and the more he’d drink. She’d check on him to make sure he didn’t really get dehydrated, and the game would stop after he was securely in the program and ran out of “milk.”

After he’d drained the glass, Mrs. Warren handed Doug a copy of the contract he’d signed, and a longer list of rules he’d be expected to follow. Doug thought that perhaps he’d read them tonight or tomorrow, just to satisfy his curiosity, but her told himself that it didn’t really matter.

Mrs. Warren then gave him his last minute instructions. “I’d advise you to use the rest of the day to explore your apartment and notice the changes I’ve made. Also, it would be wise to pore over those rules, because I’ll be checking on you often. I’ll definitely be back tomorrow, and I’ll probably be back overnight. I had keys to your apartment made, so I can check on you while you’re sleeping.” Doug looked a little shocked. “Oh, it’s perfectly standard. You told me I could do this in your contract. It’s a good little contract; perhaps you should read it sometime. And read the rules. You have some homework to do before I see you tomorrow.”

She winked at him as she was gathering her things to leave. “Promise me you’ll be a good little boy for me.”

“Okay,” Doug said unconvincingly.

“Now be nice. I see we’ll have to work on your manners. I’m trying to be kind, so you won’t get too many spankings right here at the beginning. But my kindness, you’ll find, only goes so far. So promise me you’ll be good.”

Doug swallowed. “Yes, Ma’am. I promise.”

She patted his diapered bottom. “Yes, Doug. I’m sure you’ll be a very good boy for me.”

Then she left, and Doug waddled upstairs to his room, carrying his rules and contract with him. He collapsed on his bed, exhausted from the physical ordeal and from mental fatigue. He had a lot to think about, but it would have to wait.

Copyright (c) 1995 by Babydoc.

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.

(Visited 82 times, 1 visits today)

The baby business part 8

Copyright (c) 1995 by Babydoc.

As the time dragged on, Doug became more uncomfortable than he could ever remember being. His arms burned, his hands were numb, his back was stiff, and his bottom and legs were cold, wet, and squishy. This isn’t at all the way he thought things would turn out. He watched as his clock crept toward the three hour mark, indicating that his test was over, and at the exact instant it read three hours, he heard a key turn a lock in his front door downstairs. Damn, he thought, she’s good.

He listened to the sounds of Mrs. Warren climbing the stairs, whistling to herself. He saw her enter the bathroom with her clipboard in her hand.

“Whew!” she commented. “Smells like there’s a little boy who has some stinky pants that need changing.”

He lowered his eyes in silence. Words couldn’t describe how humiliated he felt as he sat tied up in his bathtup with very messy and wet pants. She made it worse by laughing when she looked closer at him.

“Well, I hope you don’t mind my pronouncing judgment BEFORE we look at your underpants, but I think it’s quite safe to say you didn’t exactly pass this test.” She chuckled again. “I mean, I’ve seen other little boys fail, but not with so much enthusiasm.” She leaned over to inspect him. “You certainly did quite a number on those pants, and it’s porbably a blessing that you won’t be needing to wear those underpants again at any time in the near future. I don’t even WANT to know what color they are now. Deal?” she asked cheerfully as she packed her timer and monitor into her little black bag.

He couldn’t speak. He was simply mortified. That this could happen at all, that anyone would see him, that she would make fun of him. It was all so terrible.

She sat on the toilet lid to talk to him, then saw his expression and knew his feelings. “Oh, don’t worry, little boy,” she said, reaching over to stroke his hair maternally. “As I said, I’ve had lots of boys fail my test. You weren’t the first. And likewise, you won’t be the first to wear diapers for me, either. It doesn’t have to be a big deal at all, if you just accept it. Life goes on, even if you have an accident, and even if you’re wearing diapers.”

“But…” Doug tried to speak for the first time. “But I really don’t NEED to wear diapers,” he insisted, nearly in tears. “I’m NOT incontinent.”

“Uh, huh, of course you aren’t,” Mrs. Warren said with a patronizing lilt. “But your pants might want to argue with you. Maybe we don’t understand what incontinent means,” she suggested gently.

“No,” he said acidly. “I know exactly what it means. I’m just saying that I had horrible luck today. I’m sick, I think, and I had a lot of beer last night. I…I never have accidents normally,” he sputtered with exasperation.

“No, you’re not sick,” she replied. “Part of it was the diaper juice.”

“What?”

“The diaper juice,” she repeated. This was always tricky. “It wasn’t Gatorade you drank, though it is very similar. It had a touch of a mild laxative in it,” she lied. Giving a hint of the truth often helped her credibility. But she found it best to keep him doubting his ability to stay clean and dry. He’ll be easier in the short run if he wonders whether he actually needs the diapers.

“I like to call it diaper juice because it helps me decide who needs diapers. You see, it doesn’t make everyone soil their pants, just those with some underlying incontinence. If your sphincters are a little weak anyway, this stuff will tip you over the edge, and you’ll have an accident. Or two,” she added, noting the wetness in his pants as well.

“My company has spent a lot of time testing this drink, and we’ve found that the vast majority of people are a little `challenged’ by the test, but that they stay clean and dry with no real problems. Only those we know by other tests to be incontinent had a soiling problem. It turns out to be quite a valid test,” she concluded. She had phrased that well. He ought to believe that story. “Of course, that doesn’t reeally explain why you wet your pants as well. The diaper juice doesn’t have anything in it to cause that. You did that on your own,” she lied.

As Doug heard this, Mrs. Warren’s words made his head spin. So, it had been a laxative, but he should have been able to hold it. But he didn’t, so was he really incontinent? And he had peed in his pants, too, so that juice wasn’t entirely to blame. He didn’t know what to think. He had to admit, it sounded like he had legitimately failed this test. But…but he simply wasn’t incontinent. He mumbled this again, since it was his only line of defense.

“That’s simply denial,” she responded easily. “And I don’t blame you for using denial as a defense mechanism. Bladder and bowel control are some of our most elemental skills. It’s embarrassing and a little scary when we discover somehow that we have lost it to some degree, even if it’s just temporary. I know that you are scared and embarrassed. Now, I can’t tell you why you are incontinent, only a doctor can. And Mrs. Sheffield says you’ve been to see a doctor already about it, so I’ll take your word for it, and we don’t need to address the reasons WHY you’re incontinent. Our job is to deal with it.”

Doug cursed himself for having mentioned a doctor in his made-up story about needing diapers last Saturday. But he never thought it would be used against him.

She went on. “But whether you choose to accept it or not, or whether you were aware of it or not, today we have proven that you have a problem with incontinence.”

He still felt dizzy. She sounded so reasonable. “But if I AM incontinent, I should have known about it. Right?”

“And I’m sure you did, on some level, but you chose to ignore it, or not to believe it. Perhaps we can find some other earlier clues. Think back. I bet you can remember wetting your bed, or having daytime accidents when you were very little. Right?”

He nodded. He could. But couldn’t everyone?

“Studies we have done have shown that our incontinent clients have specific memories like that more often than people with good control. And this makes sense. If you can remember such incidents, you were probably older than most people by the time you gained control, and late bloomers often have trouble throughout life with bladder and bowel control.” This was a fabrication she had practiced many times, and it usually had the desired effect. It did here. She could see that it had made him think. Time to hit him with more lies.

“Here’s another clue. Another subtle sign of an underlying incontinence problem is if after you pee (and I mean intentionally, in the toilet) you ever have a little problem dribbling into your underpants once you’re finished. Normal people don’t have this problem, but all of my other little boys do, and it’s another pretty sensitive sign.” Of course, Mrs. Warren chuckled to herself, how could this boy know that was a lie? Most men didn’t examine other men in public restrooms. And indeed, Doug looked shocked. He had thought that a little dribbling was normal. Mrs. Warren smiled. Time to hit him with the big one.

“Finally, psychologists tell us that we sometimes deeply desire things we know we need but which we can’t admit we need, out of embarrassment or fear. These desires appear in different ways, but one way incontinent people manifest the desire for additional bladder protection is a sexual attraction to diapers. You mentioned something earlier about this, so I’ll bet that’s the case with you, and I bet that from an early age you’ve had a fetish for diapers. It may seem perverted to you, or embarrassing, so you probably haven’t told a lot of people. But the fact is that this is your unconscious telling you that you have a serious problem, and that if you aren’t going to fix it consciously, your unconscious will help you fix it automatically. It’s true, isn’t it? You’ve secretly worn diapers before, haven’t you?”

She was looking at him with such a knowing expression. Doug nodded slowly as she nodded with him. Yes, of course he’d worn diapers. Was this why he liked them?

Mrs. Warren smiled. That was one thing she could count on. All of these poor boys wanted to know why they liked diapers, and they tended to believe any credible reason you gave them.

“You see, you’ve always had this problem, and you’ve always wanted help, but have been too afraid or embarrassed to get it. Not anymore. From now on, you’ll get the help you need, Doug. And to make it easier on your ego, I’m not going to give you a choice. Sometimes we can’t admit what we need, but we still need it. You may not be able to tell me you need to wear diapers, but you have all the symptoms of incontinence, and we proved today that you have a problem.

“Now, it would be nice if you could admit you have a problem, so that we can work together to fix it. Working together is so much nicer than struggling with each other, and my experience is that it helps you more to admit your problem and cooperate with me. But I must tell you that it is hardly necessary for you to help me. It’s far more pleasant for you if you cooperate, but one way or another you’ll be wearing your diapers like a good little boy.”

She reached into her black bag, drew out a camera, and before Doug could object, she took several pictures of him as he sat in his obviously wet and messy pants in the tub.

“What are you doing?” he cried. Evidence of his experience today was the last thing he wanted. He thought of his job, his grad program application.

“Now just relax,” she cooed, replacing her camera. “These pictures won’t find their way anywhere important if you behave yourself. They are more as an insurance policy for me. As I said, I’m not going to give you the option of not participating in this program. I know your tendency is to avoid the issue of your incontinence, but I’m very serious about forcing you to confront it, or at the very least, to control it. The pictures will just help me make sure you’ll stay in my program.”

That was bad news indeed. This woman was arming herself with more and more weapons, Doug saw. How could he avoid this catastrophe?

“Okay,” Mrs. Warren said, noting that the pictures had the desired effect. She would take more pictures later, and they would be her trump card for this fellow. “The next order of business is signing a contract for your personal incontinence control program, or ICP. After we do that, we can get you a little more comfortable.” With that, she showed him her clipboard, which had on it an official-looking document with a space to sign his name. Doug got a sudden feeling of panic. He couldn’t sign. This was it, the last nail in his coffin. If he signed this, he’d never be able to get out of this program thing.

So he shook his head. “I’m not signing,” he said defiantly.

Mrs. Warren took the clipboard back and shook her head. “Your choice,” she clucked. “You don’t have to sign now.” Doug was relieved. Maybe there was some way out of this. “But I will tell you that you don’t move from that tub until I have your John Hancock on this page. As long as you’re comfortable, you don’t have to sign. You want to sit for a while?”

Doug grimaced. He couldn’t bear sitting here any more. But…

When he didn’t answer immediately, Mrs. Warren stood. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll check back in a little while, after I’ve prepared your apartment. If you’re not ready to sign by then, I can leave you until tomorrow morning. I’ve certainly got plenty of time, you won’t starve before then, and you don’t exactly need special bathroom facilities. And if you get thirsty, I’ve always got some Gatorade you could have.” He heard her chuckling as she went downstairs.

When he was alone he lifted himself up a little and relieved himself once more into his pants. He had had cramps throughout that conversation but had held on until she left. That would have been way too embarrassing.

Now what could he do? She had him by the balls, he knew. She had blackmail material, and he couldn’t sit here forever. He was so stiff and sore and generally uncomfortable that even a dry diaper sounded like a dream to him. This lady was too good, and right now she had him right where she wanted him. He had to sign the paper. There was no way around it. He dejectedly accepted this over the next few moments.

More disturbing was the thought she had planted in his head about actually being incontinent. It didn’t sound possible, but she made it sound obvious. And if it was true, did he have any business objecting to this ICP thing?

But his bladder and bowel control was fine, he thought. He never had an accident. He’d never needed diapers before. And yet, why did he always want them? His head spun with the implications, and he was far too hungry and uncomfortable to sort it all out. He’d be best off if he signed the damn paper, got out of this tub, and got her out of his house. Then he could think about it all he needed to, and devise some way to get out of this whole mess. He couldn’t think of any ways now, but there had to be some escape.

He listened to the sounds of the house while he waited for her to return. He heard the front door open and close several times, and Mrs. Warren made several trips up and down the stairs as well. He heard bags ripping, and the downstairs toilet flush. He had no idea what was going on. And honestly, he didn’t care. His mind was set on getting out of here. So when Mrs. Warren finally reappeared in the bathroom and asked if he was interested in joined her ICP, Doug nodded vigorously.

“Good,” she said, and held out her clipboard.

Copyright (c) 1995 by Babydoc.

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.

(Visited 121 times, 1 visits today)

The baby business part 5

Copyright (c) 1995 by Babydoc.

It was another second before he realized that he’d better start explaining fast, or within about two minutes she’d probably expect him to be wearing one of the infantile gifts she’d brought. He rushed out the door and out to the pink and blue diaper van. She was around back, opening the rear doors.

As he reached her she was examining a clipboard and appearing to compare it to contents in the back of the truck. He looked inside and got distracted by her cargo. Her van was literally crammed full of packages of disposable and cloth diapers. In addition there were smaller packages of plastic and other (rubber?) panties, bottles of powder, oil, vaseline, lotion, and lots of other nondescipt items he thought must be pads and soakers. There were also many items he could not identify: jugs of liquid, assorted clothing. Half of him wanted to go through it all and see what he liked, but the rational half of him realized he’d find out all too soon if he didn’t start talking now.

“Um, Mrs. Warren?” he started hesitantly. When she didn’t answer or even look up, he just went on. “We REALLY need to talk.”

She half snorted derisively in response but didn’t otherwise say anything. He realized he’d better just spit out the essentials.

“There has been a huge, embarrassing mistake. You see, in real life, I don’t NEED to wear diapers at all. I’m totally continent. This is all a big mixup because, um, well…” He stalled out, summoning the courage to tell someone the truth for the first time ever. “I, um, sometimes like to, you know, wear diapers, just as a kind of fantasy. But it’s just a funny little thing, it has nothing to do with reality…” He was watching her face, which never changed expression. She just kept checking over her list. Finally, as he trailed off, unsure of what to say next, she smiled slightly, and though her eyes never left her clipboard, she murmured,”

“Well, your fantasy is about to become your reality, little boy.”

That was NOT the response he expected. He started to panic a little. She wasn’t listening or didn’t get it. He grabbed her elbow frantically and said, “No, you don’t understand. I DO NOT need diapers. I am completely continent.”

THAT moved her eyes to him, and the fierceness with which she glared at him startled him. He let go of her elbow.

Her eyes narrowed, and after a long pause, she said slowly and distinctly, “I think I just heard you ask for a continence test.”

He just stared blankly at her. The words made no sense to him.

“Is that true?” she demanded.

“I…I don’t know,” he stammered. “What is it?”

“Just what it sounds like. It’s how we find out who can and can’t control their bladder and bowels. Sounds like you’re claiming to be continent. I can’t accept that claim unless you can back it up by passing a continence test. That’s only fair, right?”

He absorbed this. “You mean you want proof?”

She nodded, her eyes penetrating into his. “Better believe it. You wouldn’t believe the number of my clients who try to avoid wearing the diapers they so obviously need. This test is simply a reliable way of telling who does and who doesn’t need my…services. Now, I’m sure you would never try to mislead me,” she said rather sarcastically, “so you can just consider this test as a formality.”

“Well, I don’t know. What would I have to do?” he asked uncertainly.

“Oh, it’s easy,” she replied, “If you’re continent. Just keep your pants all clean and dry for three hours after you drink a glass of Gatorade.”

That didn’t sound so bad. “That’s it?”

“That’s it. But it’s not so easy if you’re at all incontinent. And judging by your pants, I don’t know how you’d do.”

He followed her gaze down to the spot on his crotch from the bathroom. He blushed heavily, cursing himself for his poor timing. Nice way to make an impression, he thought. “Oh, that’s nothing, just an accident.”

She smiled. “They all are.” She went on: “But if you want to try to stay dry for three hours, that’s fine. I’ll give you an excellent chance to prove to me that you don’t need to wear diapers. Otherwise, you can help me carry in your things now.” She pointed to a pile of disposable diapers.

He stared at them, wishing he could have them and use them on his own terms, at his convenience. It was tragic to be confronted by this opportunity and not use it. But he couldn’t. This situation was way too threatening.

“I guess I’ll do the test.” There didn’t seem to be much of a choice. She wanted proof. He could certainly provide that, and three hours seemed like a worthwhile time investment if he could nip this whole diaper debacle in the bud. “What do I have to do again?”

She smiled. This would be fun. “As I mentioned, it’s very easy. You drink a glass of Gatorade and sit in the bathtub for three hours.”

“The bathtub?” Didn’t sound too comfortable.

“Yep. It’s easier to clean up puddles and messes that way. Also, in case you do have a problem, I’ll have you wear older clothes. That should be fine,” she said, indicating the jeans and old tennis shoes he was wearing from last night. Mrs. Warren slammed shut the rear doors of the van and went up to the front end, where she retrieved from the passenger side a small sack of heavy black cloth.

“Oh, yes,” she said, smiling at him, “I ought to tell you, just so you won’t be shocked when we get upstairs. Since I won’t be there to watch you during your test, I need some way to secure you there in the tub so I know you didn’t cheat. That’s the reason for these.” And she held up the bag for him to see the contents.

He peered in curiously and saw several well-worn leather straps and cuffs in a tangled bunch. A chill ran down his spine. “You mean you expect me to let you tie me up?” That didn’t seem wise at all. She was a stranger, and a weird one at that. He’d heard stories about poeple who got themselves into S and M situations and never gotten out. “No offense, but I don’t know you at all! Why should I trust you?” His imagination started working as he remembered how she wanted to spank him earlier, and his anxiety level jumped a notch. (Sure, he’d fantasized about spankings, but fantasies were pleasurable, and he’d always been unsure of how it would translate into reality. Maybe someday he’d try it, but now, with an angry stranger, was definitely not that time. Plus, there was a lot on the line here.)

But she shook her head. “Don’t worry. I won’t physically harm you. I know I could, but the purpose is just to make sure you don’t use the toilet if I’m not there.”

She pulled out a piece of paper that look like a legal document. “Here, look. This is a binding promise I’ll sign stating that I will not physically abuse you while you’re tied up. It will protect your rights, and you can hide it somewhere for use later if necessary. Or complain to the store. You’re protected in a number of ways.”

This “promise” was a scam she’d only recently started, and it seemed to work well. She had to be careful of the promises she made, but of course most of it was true. She wouldn’t actively harm the boy, but she would use the situation that developed to her advantage. Anyway, the form was bogus. It just looked good, and most people didn’t know the difference. It was simply useful to reassure her brand new clients that they would be safe. And they would: in several hours, they’d be safely in a nice, clean diaper.

She had other ruses to use if this didn’t work, but this boy seemed relieved when he saw the “document,” so she didn’t go any further. He was sadly naive, this one. That made it easier, but no less fun. Mrs. Warren made a big show of signing the document, giving it to him, and telling him to hide it somewhere safe.

Then she told him to go upstairs and sit on the edge of the bathtub and wait for her. She saw him swallow hard, nod, and turn to go inside.

She smiled again. He would be fun.

Copyright (c) 1995 by Babydoc.

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.

(Visited 137 times, 1 visits today)