This story is written by Les Lea
Mum woke me for school in the morning. Still half asleep I wasn’t fully aware of what I was wearing but I knew I’d had a rough night. To begin with I could still detect the aroma of mum’s baking session, the sweet warm smell being very comforting. However, there was a distant-dream at the back of my mind that had disturbed me but I couldn’t quite remember any of the details. Still, once the drowsiness had lifted and I grasped I was in my own room, in my own bed, my unintentionally exploring fingers made me realise that underneath the smooth rubber… I’d wet myself. I gave a huge sigh of resignation just as mum came in to make sure I was up and I recognised another, not so delicious, aroma.
As I sat with my legs dangling over the bedside she could see the slight pained expression on my face and, typical of mum, had deduced the problem.
“Are you wet?”
I gave her a self-conscious nod and she came over and sat by me. I’m sure the smell alerted her to just how big the problem was.
“I had a terrible dream…” she hugged me close, “I guess I must have been scared.” I reasoned. “I’m sorry mum… it won’t happen again… I promise.”
At that moment Jake appeared at the door. Not being awake when I arrived home he wanted to know all about my weekend and to tell me about his sleepover. He saw me sat there in thick rubber pants and mum hugging me… the tears in my eyes were through sheer embarrassment, although now my younger brother knew about my soiled diaper I felt even more humiliated.
After being comforted by mum for a while I eventually went to the bathroom to remove my night time protection. At least the bed hadn’t been ruined so I felt some relief that mum didn’t have to do any special washing. I slipped out of my rubber pants, pulled off the nasty disposable and climbed into the shower. As I let the soothing spray ease my shame mum came in, gathered up the mess and removed it without me being conscious that she’d even been in the room.
As she did every day, mum had got my school uniform ready. My shirt was ironed, my shorts pressed, my tie pre-tied and my blazer checked and sponged clean of any stains, it was all waiting on the chair next to my desk. She had put my underpants on top of the pile, as they are the first things I climb into when getting dressed. I paused a moment, wondering if I wasn’t taking too much of a chance about not having any more accidents. I knew the odds of me wetting at school were minimal but… my confidence had suffered a serious blow and I didn’t want to take any risks. I knew I didn’t have any diapers left but none-the-less I checked my secret hiding place (where I’d hidden Kenny’s wet diaper all that time ago) just to make sure I hadn’t missed any he’d bequeathed on that visit. I knew I had secretly used them already, so it was silly to check but, and I don’t know why I had this need, I thought it would be safer to wear a diaper to school. I went over to my underwear drawer and thought about putting several pairs of those on over each other. To my surprise mum had washed and dried my plastic pants from my dirty accident a few days earlier and had put them away with the rest of my briefs.
I wasn’t sure what to make of this turn of events except, well, to be truthful, I was so happy to see them there and thankful that mum hadn’t just thrown them away in error… or disgust. I thought perhaps she knew I wanted to keep them but at that moment, all I really knew was that I’d put a couple of extra pairs of undies on and then wear the plastic pants over them… that way… I’d feel relatively protected and safe.
Sat at the breakfast table eating my cereal I could hear a slight rustling every time I moved but neither mum nor Jake seemed to pick up on it. I thought I might just get away with it.
It felt strange. Well it felt tight really. The extra briefs I was wearing, topped by my plastic pants made me constantly aware that I had added this protection because I was terrified of wetting myself in public. I know I’d only accidentally done so a couple of times so far but I didn’t want it to happen again and until I was more confident of my bladder, I wanted to take this simple precaution. However, Kenny was in class and he was back in diapers, I could see the bulge under his shorts and when he bent down or over to do something, his plastic pants were very obvious. I didn’t realise how obvious mine were until Gregg Wilson poked his finger up my shorts leg hole, hooked it under the elastic cuff of my plastic pants and pulled at the slippery material. He laughed as he exposed my not so secure security revealing to all part at least of what I was wearing.
As I flushed a deep shade of red, Miss Pendle told Gregg off saying that we (that meant all the children in class) don’t go around trying to embarrass other pupils. However, the cat was out of the bag (a saying I’d heard my mum use) so there was no point in denying it I just had to battle through any ridicule or insults. It didn’t happen. Kenny came and put a comforting arm around my shoulder and there was a general hiss of annoyance at Gregg’s actions. I couldn’t believe it. In fact, more boys were offering their support and it was Gregg that was teased. He didn’t take it very well and started to cry his apologies but he was, well at least until the lunch break, the one made to feel embarrassed.
At lunch I told Kenny what had happened that night and how I’d had a bad dream, which had ended up with my ‘accident’. I explained that, as I didn’t have any disposables left I had to make do as best I could. As we walked to the lunchroom together I could hear both of us softly rustling in our plastic pants. I felt really close to my best friend again, we now had this connection and, perhaps oddly enough, I would have been just as happy with more bulk on show like he had. As I told him of my search that morning for protection he nodded in agreement, smiled then tucked into his lunchbox and produced a couple of cookies.
“Your mummy makes the best cookies,” and he handed me one. “I ate two this morning at breakfast, even mummy and daddy had some, and they loved them as well.”
As I took the one offered the memory of my dream came flooding back.
I was in what appeared to be a hospital. It was a circular room and there were beds all around, like a clock face. The beds had people from the lake in them, well the kids at least. Buddy and Tim and another I couldn’t quite identify were face-down, naked and with the bottoms looking very red as if they had received a very harsh spanking. All the other kids were facing upwards and were naked apart from wearing huge diapers and blue plastic ruffled pants. Everyone was stuck, they couldn’t move, though I didn’t know if they were tied down or if something else was holding them, but all they could do was move their heads. Faceless nurses came in and gave every one a cookie and a bottle of warm milk, which they had to suck like a baby because they couldn’t move their arms. Meanwhile, Buddy, Tim and the other boy had their spanking resumed, so no cookies for them. As the nurses fed all the other patients the milk and cookies, I was left on my own with a blue pacifier stuck in my mouth, which for some reason, as I took in the scene, I was sucking on furiously.
I was wearing a blue short-legged onesie (but it didn’t have a duck like the one Kenny had dreamed about), it was however, very tight around my crotch. I could see a huge bulging diaper, which was covered by a pair of enormous plastic pants with cartoon characters all over them. I realised they were the same style as the toddler by the lake had worn. However, these were massive and obvious because the onesie, which was fastened between my legs, pulled it up and that just emphasised how colossal my padding was. Then Kenny arrived, wearing a white footed onesie that made him look like a rabbit. He had a huge cookie in his hand and he was offering it to me.
I guess that was the trigger to my memory.
The problem was, as I ate the cookie it got bigger and bigger but I had to keep eating it. The baby bottle full of warm milk I was sucking on between each bite was also getting larger and my belly was getting fit to burst. Kenny was insisting that I finish it up so we could go and play, but my belly began to cramp and I could think of only one-way to ease the pain. I reluctantly did a giant poop. The relief was fantastic and it seemed to release all the other patients from their immobility and they walked… or more precise… faded away. However, the bulging diaper had also expanded and I was worried about how I would be able to walk, never mind play out, with Kenny. He was telling me not to worry, it would all be OK and that we would have some fun at school…
A distant command to wake-up…time for school, brought me out of the hospital and into my own bed.
Kenny didn’t seem put off by my dream. As we munched on our cookies he tried to help me understand it. Well, understand is perhaps too big an idea, he suggested possible reasons for it. The weekend had been full of experiences and events, the like of which had never happened to me before. The biggest thing in my past was the actual move we’d made for my mum’s job. I did find that a bit traumatic, especially the new school with the uniform and all its rules, but it hadn’t given me nightmares or even a dream of any kind.
It was terrific listening to Kenny, he was full of ideas, and sat next to him, with our bare knees touching and knowing we were both wearing our protection, his more so, lifted my previous feelings of embarrassment completely. As always, when I see his diaper I just want to touch, stroke and feel its bulk and get a thrill from fondling his silky plastic pants. As he talked I tentatively ran my fingers up the leg of his shorts and tickled his inner thigh, whilst also stroking the plastic cuff. He spread his legs a little wider to give me better access but carried on talking about all the possibilities… as he saw them.
All too soon we were back in class but, joy of joy, I got my first straight ‘A’ for my composition “A Fantastic Weekend” that I’d written that morning. Miss Pendle liked it so much she asked me to read it out and because I was so proud of what Kenny and I had done, I lost all my natural shyness to address the class and happily shared our experience with them all. It was great to see 20 faces all taking an interest in what we’d done. The fact that I was standing in my school shorts and they all knew about my plastic pants didn’t seem to make any difference, and the occasional comment of “wow”, “fantastic” or just the sound of an intake of breath from my audience (and the appreciative smile from Kenny because he was mentioned all the time) filled me full of a confidence I didn’t know I had. I even got some applause when I finished… though I didn’t mention in my story what we’d had to wear to sleep in.
School was actually proving really good for me. At my other one I’d not been a very successful student and (according to the teacher’s report to my mum on Parent’s Evening) my early grades were very poor. So, when I got home with an ‘A’ on my story my mum was so pleased she put it up on the fridge as a reminder. In fact, during my relatively short time at Oakland, my grades had improved dramatically and I was now, like Kenny, in the top stream.
Once home I stripped out of my uniform and, as we were still experiencing a warm spell, slipped into my thin white gym shorts and t-shirt. I put my layers of underpants to wash and returned the plastic pants to the drawer. Over our evening meal, which consisted of some of mum’s fantastic cooking, I read my ‘A’ rated masterpiece to my audience of two and again it was received very well. I know mum is a fabulous baker but somehow, because there was praise from Kenny and his family, it all tasted so much better and I was full of compliments for mum’s efforts. Jake seemed to have forgotten about his sleepover as he bombarded me with questions about the lake. He tried to make mum promise that we’d all go up to stay sometime soon. Mum nodded and said it was a great idea and that we probably would manage it … at some point. This seemed good enough for Jake and he came to my room to find out more of what to expect… ‘Did I think they’d have fireworks?’… ‘Did I think the jets would be still around?’ The questions were almost nonstop until mum, said it was time for bed.
She took Jake off to the bathroom to supervise his washing and teeth cleaning regime; sometimes he was very sparse with his toothbrush and even less thorough with the wash-cloth. Once he was ready and in his PJs, like she does for me, she organise his school clothes so that there was no last minute panic in the morning. Once she’d settled and kissed him goodnight she came in to me and said she thought we should ‘talk’. I was immediately apprehensive and felt a chill run up my back.
She told me she’d been speaking to Mrs Morrison about the trip and they’d talked about the protection Kenny and I had worn on a night. She saw the worried look on my face so put her arm around my shoulders to comfort me. I couldn’t look her straight in the face as I realised what I thought was a secret was now known to everyone… everyone being my mum. She tried to keep the conversation light but with each mention of the thick fabric diapers and rubber pants, my eyes became fascinated by what was on the ground. Even my bare toes appeared to be curling up in shame.
Mum, as always, was fantastic. She saw what had happened as a sensible precaution and that I should have nothing to worry about but she wanted to know if I was happy wearing such things. I was reluctant to admit anything but I eventually nodded and sobbed with relief. Mum held me tightly and said:
“In that case… I have something for you… should you decide it’s something you want to do.”
Mum took my hand and we moved over to my big closet. She opened it up and there was a huge package on one of the shelves. She asked me to open it. It was a pack of pull-ups for older boys. I didn’t know what to say. Part of me wanted to reject the idea of going back into such childish items of underwear, whilst the other side of me desperately wanted to slip straight into a pair.
Mum said that after the morning’s ‘messy’ experience she had sought some advice from Kenny’s mother and she had suggested that I be given free rein to choose for myself what I wanted to do… if ‘indeed anything’. Mum made it clear that she wasn’t forcing anything on me but, as she noticed the plastic pants missing, and had realised I was wearing more underwear than usual that morning that perhaps, just perhaps, I was worrying over something that I need not have to.
I cried. Mum was so loving and understanding. She wasn’t angry, she didn’t think there was something wrong with me, she just… knew. I was so grateful to her right then and sobbed in gratitude and, I suppose, relief. She held me close stroking my hair and let me get my young emotions under control before she said that I should get ready for bed. I felt worn out and was desperately in need of sleep but she left my room, letting me decide for myself what I thought I needed to wear.
I toyed with just wearing my usual t-shirt and boxers, did I really want to be wearing pull-ups, would I be admitting to something I wasn’t ready to admit to? These were questions I was afraid to answer, however, I pulled apart the folded pull-up, it had a cartoon racing car on the front, and examined it.
It appeared to be thinner than the disposables I’d worn and considerably thinner than the fabric diaper I’d worn at the lake. I slipped it on and looked at myself in the mirror. Although it was slightly bulkier than my briefs, they looked just the same. I thought that I could wear these to school if I had to and no one would know but I realised that if I did have another accident, on the scale of my last one, these wouldn’t help much.
I was feeling sleepy so I just pulled my plastic pants over them and crawled into bed, I didn’t even bother with my boxers.
In the morning I was horrified – I’d done it again. Despite my promise to mum that I wouldn’t, my pull-up was soaked and messy and the plastic pants had offered little protection. My bed was in a state and I couldn’t blame it on a nightmare because I couldn’t remember having one, I must have just… done it. I knew I couldn’t hide it from mum but I also had no idea how to tell her without alerting Jake to what had happened. I didn’t have to worry. Jake came into my room and, wrinkling his nose, wanted to know what the smell was. He called out to mum that “Simon’s pooped himself” and once she arrived he hung around in the doorway to see what would happen next.
Mum shook her head in disbelief although she could see that I’d taken some kind of precaution but that the pull-ups weren’t going to be good enough for such accidents. Jake was standing in his shorty PJs and didn’t quite know what to make of his older brother covered in poop and crying about it. Mum told him to go and get ready for school but he was fascinated at what had happened. Mum insisted that he “move or else”, which sent him scurrying off, but she appeared to be at a loss as to what to do next.
I didn’t help as I was lost in sobbing and in my apparent disgrace – I had done something which I hadn’t since I was a baby and failed at being her grown-up son. As I cried I wondered if it was something I’d ‘caught’ from Kenny. Was I now going to be a big baby, wondering around in diapers and protective pants for the rest of my life? What was I to do?
Jake had to catch the school bus on his own, with a stern warning from mum not to speak or discuss what had happened to me with anyone… not even a teacher. She put in a call to school telling them I was unwell and that she was keeping me home and then put a call in to Kenny’s mum. I didn’t hear all the conversation, just little bits from what mum said but I could tell mum was worried.
It was lucky that Mrs Morrison was on late shift that day and came round to help mum with me. She brought diapers, disposables, plastic and rubber pants and an assortment of lotions, creams and powders and set them out in the living room. Although mum had cleaned me up before she arrived, I was sitting at the table in my boxers and t-shirt terrified I might wet or poop again. Mum could see the worry on my face and my constant apologising at putting her out and missing work didn’t seem to be helping.
Mum and Mrs Morrison decided that to help allay my obvious distress I should be put into a thick cloth diaper and heavy duty rubber pants, just so I would stop worrying (and in case the worst happened). Of course Mrs Morrison had changed me recently and wouldn’t have batted an eyelid at doing so again but she obviously didn’t think it was her place with my mum there. However, she encouraged mum to take charge and to get on with the job in hand. As usual, mum was very cheery as she stripped me out of my clothes, wiped and oiled the relative part of my body and then jokingly sprinkled loads of powder all around it. Mrs Morrison passed her a thick cloth diaper and within seconds I was tightly pinned in and covered in a substantial pair of rubber pants. Strangely, I did feel less panicky once I was dressed that way and felt able to move about the house. I went to my room to play, whilst the two women in my life discussed what was to be done.
Again, I wasn’t in the room for that conversation but, after about two hours, Mrs Morrison left and mum gave the impression of being a bit more certain about what was to be done. I waved Kenny’s mum off and she told me that he’d call me when he got home from school. I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to know but I suppose he (and the Morrisons) had become like family, so maybe there was no need for secrets.
The rest of the day passed without incident; mum worked at her desk, while I played on my Xbox in my room or watched TV. The thick diaper was a constant reminder of what I’d done but even the bulk between my legs that hindered my walking… or cute waddle as mum put it (I think she was trying make the experience easier for me to cope with) didn’t depress me like I imagined it would. I suppose in some way the experience of having to wear such thick diapers and pants up at the lake had prepared me for just this event. I did feel a lot safer knowing that if I did have an accident… it would all be contained… and that was a relief.
In fact, suddenly I realised what Kenny had been telling me; that all the extra care was really very nice. The hugs, the cleaning, the kisses, the constant attention and words of approval, I could happily get used to. What I looked like mattered less and I found more and more comfort dressed in my diaper, which was probably just as well as I couldn’t find any of my pants or shorts with enough room to contain it all. The bulk I could see in a positive way, the texture of the rubber I enjoyed getting used to and my mum looking at me with concern but love in her eyes… made me very grateful.
This story is written by Les Lea
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