This story is written by Les Lea
Kenny led me to the nurse’s office. I felt silly, as well as wet, and I didn’t understand why it had happened but my shorts and underwear was soaked and I definitely needed a change of clothes. Nurse Gibbs was an elderly, no-nonsense type of lady who had, according to Kenny, been at the school from before it was built. She knew who most of the kids in her care were but this was my first visit.
“Hello Kenny,” she said on recognising him but immediately realised it wasn’t him that needed attention. “Who have you brought to see me today?”
“Hello Miss Gibbs… erm… this is my friend Simon… erm… he’s had a bit of an accident…”
“He certainly has,” she smiled, “let’s get you out of those and into something … drier.”
Although I would have liked for him to have stayed, she dismissed Kenny as class had started so he had to get back.
“OK Simon, take off your pants.” She was standing right in front of me and I hesitated for a second. “Don’t worry, lots of boys have accidents… I’ll have you fixed and back in class in seconds.”
She moved forwards and unbuttoned and unzipped my shorts and, together with my wet briefs, pulled them to the floor. I thought it was all a bit embarrassing but I had little choice and Nurse Gibbs didn’t seem a lady to mess about. She grabbed some paper towels and roughly dried me down then said that she could see I was getting the beginnings of a rash. She grabbed some lotion and rubbed it in between my legs, around my penis and across my bottom, then took me over to a small table and told me to lie out.
I knew it was a changing table but had no option but to do as I was told and after the thorough way she had applied the lotion, she also made sure that I was amply powdered before she put me in a very tight-fitting disposable. When I stood up she could tell that it only just fit and decided, to be on the safe side, that I needed a bit more protection for the rest of the day. She searched through a draw and produced a pair of cream-colored plastic pants that had pop studs up the sides. She fastened me in them and they were also tight but she was happy that they would keep everything in place. I liked them and the fit… they seemed different to what I’d worn before. Next she searched in a nearby cupboard and produced three pairs of grey shorts for me to try on. The first two were way too small. She said that usually she only deals with smaller children who have accidents so didn’t have a selection for boys my size. It didn’t seem that she was telling me off for being older and wetting myself, just as a sort of apology for not having shorts that fit. However, the third pair, although very tight and very short, I could at least get over my diaper… between us we settled on them.
She put my wet clothes in a plastic bag and, along with them, gave me a note to take home for my mother to read and another to give to my teacher. As I wandered back to class, thankfully I was dry, but everything felt very tight. I hadn’t realised just how short my emergency school shorts were and my plastic pants and diaper could easily be seen bulging out and hanging down at the back. It was too late to do anything about it so I returned to my class, handed Miss Pendle the nurse’s note and took my seat. No one was in any doubt as to what had happened, because, those who hadn’t been there could at least see the diapered proof as I moved around. For a few minutes I was very self-conscious but once we started to do things I forgot all about it and nothing was said.
On the bus home Jake wondered why I’d changed shorts and I told him about having an accident at lunchtime in the cafeteria and I had to go to the nurse to get cleaned up. He thought I must have spilled something and I didn’t correct him… although he thought the bulging diaper was a bit much. A few of the other kids on the bus who didn’t go to our school commented but, I was so used to wearing them by then, their snide comments didn’t worry me. However, one much older boy kept going on and on and I saw that Jake was getting a bit worried. I turned and said something to the bully… in fact I called him a c…. I know it’s a naughty word but I’d heard older kids say it, even though I didn’t know what it meant.
He angrily came charging down the bus aisle and dragged me to my feet. He was very big and I realised I’d better apologise as quickly as possible but before I had chance he began mocking me for using such a word and said:
“The big baby thinks it’s grown up.”
He must have been about 14 or 15 and very large. I was terrified that he might hit me but he ripped down my shorts and jeered at my plastic pants and diaper in front of the entire bus.
“Look,” he screamed to all the kids who were watching, “the baby has already wet itself… no doubt it’s crapping itself as well.”
I could see Jake was crying and I didn’t know what to do. I was very, very scared and to make things worse, I actually had filled my entire diaper.
I just stared at the bully. I couldn’t do anything as I was paralyzed with fear but the driver pulled the bus over and ordered the kid to get off. It was only once the bus had set off again and I’d pulled my damaged shorts up that I could feel that my diaper was very warm… and very messy. I didn’t tell anyone I just hoped that the plastic pants would contain the problem but, the smell became overpowering and some of the kids were complaining… and pointing at ‘Stinky Hudson’. I tried to hug Jake but he just pulled away and I felt terrible. It got worse, because of all the complaints, about half a mile from home the bus driver pulled over and ordered me off as well. Poor Jake also had to get off and as the bus drove away, we could see some of the kids laughing, holding their noses and pulling faces. The long walk home was awful. I was trying to keep my shorts up as the zip had been broken by the bully, Jake wouldn’t speak and I could feel the mess squishing around in my diaper with each step.
Once home, Jake told the story to Auntie Rose, while I went straight to my room. I could hear that she was annoyed that such things happen on a school bus but because of my dejected manner must have known that something else had gone on. I stood in front of my mirror and looked at my reflected image and became very angry. There was such a pain in the pit of my stomach that I didn’t know if I was about to fill my diaper again or that my entire body would explode. The mirror showed me just what the bully had seen, a stupid kid, in a stupid uniform, in stupid shorts, wearing a stupid diaper… I looked like a little kid… no wonder he thought of me as a ‘Big Baby’.
I furiously pulled off my jacket, tie and shirt. My damaged shorts fell to the floor and I angrily kicked them away. The reflection of me showed I was just a Big Baby… wearing a diaper and plastic pants… what else could I be?
Suddenly, I wanted to reject all the things that had plotted to make me that way. I hated my school uniform. I hated the short shorts. I didn’t want to wear diapers again. I didn’t want to go near a pair of plastic pants. I hated the fact that we’d moved to this awful town. I hated mum for not being here and auntie for encouraging me. I hated the onesie and the easy way I’d let auntie feed me with a bottle….uuuurgggg. I hated my recent dreams and, in my head, I blamed Kenny for involving me in all these baby things. It was all Kenny’s fault and I didn’t want to have anything to do with him again. The photo of us at the lake with an arm around each other’s shoulders and smiling just seemed to be mocking me, I swept it off the table and it smashed to the floor. He was no longer my friend. I hated him and his babyish ways.
I was angry and upset. My best friend had betrayed me… making me something I wasn’t… my world was spinning out of control and I didn’t know what to do. Still wearing just my messy diaper and plastic pants I threw myself down onto my bed and cried into my pillow.
I’d only been weeping for a little while when there was a gentle knock on my door and auntie came in. She saw how upset I was but told me I couldn’t lie around in a full diaper and led me towards the bathroom. I didn’t really want to move and I was angry at her as well, but she was correct… even for me the smell was getting too much.
She guided me to the bathroom and started to un-pop the plastic diaper but I pulled away and angrily shouted that ‘I’ll do it… I’m not a baby’.
She looked shocked at my outburst but left me to deal with it. My plastic pants fell to the floor and the full disaster in my diaper was revealed. The mess, the smell, the unpleasantness suddenly made me feel sick and I rushed to the toilet to vomit. I was clinging on to the side of the bowl crying and being sick all at the same time feeling totally dejected.
I was crying for my ‘mummy’. Not something I had called mum for a long time but now I wanted my ‘mummy’ and became inconsolable that she wasn’t here with me. Auntie did her best by stroking my hair and trying to make me feel better but it just wasn’t working and if anything, I was getting more and more hysterical about… everything. The tears were flowing hard and I was screaming incomprehensible things through my huge sobs. I was acting like a baby but had no way to control the desperate feeling that had overtaken me. I sat on the floor, with my head resting against the cool toilet bowl and wept.
Auntie eventually coaxed me into the shower where she sprayed and sponged me until I was clean. My belly was still feeling like it was going to burst but at least the sobbing had stopped. She dried me off and steered me back to my bedroom where she went to my cupboard and started sorting through my pull-ups and diapers. She’d just grabbed a pair of pull-ups, which she didn’t realise made me very angry, and I shouted ‘No’ at her. I strode over to my drawer, pulled out a pair of tightie-whities and put them on, determined that my days of diapers, pull-ups and all the things that Kenny loved now had no place in my life. For the past few months, because it was so hot, I’d lived most of my time in just shorts but now I made a determined effort to find my jeans and wear those from that moment on.
The evening meal was a very bad-tempered affair. When auntie tried to bring up the subject of the bully I screamed at her, which upset Jake but I wasn’t bothered, I was too angry to think about anyone but me. I didn’t even thank auntie before I left the table and returned to my room. I turned on the Xbox and was determined to get to a high level before bed time but I kept making stupid mistakes. I angrily threw the controller down in frustration and tried to find something else to occupy my mind. My school backpack was the next to feel my anger because when I opened it I found the plastic bag with my shorts and briefs, which just reminded me of what a terrible day it had been. I threw them and the note at the ripped shorts that were already in a heap in the corner, then noticed the ‘baby’ stuff in my cupboard and dragged all that to the floor.
It was morning when I woke up and auntie was gently shaking my shoulder and telling me to get ready for school. I told her I didn’t want to go but she very firmly told me it wasn’t an option and to get myself ready immediately. A great deal of the anger had left me and I knew that auntie wouldn’t let me get away with being rude a second time so I meekly began to change out of the clothes, which I had apparently slept in. At some point in the night auntie must have come in, tidied up all the mess, and got my stuff ready for the day ahead. My jacket was spotless and pressed, a new, freshly ironed shirt hung over the chair, my shorts were all clean and dry and a pair of my white briefs topped the pile. I really didn’t want to get dressed but auntie was shouting we were late, and with the memory of my shouting at her last night, I felt a little guilty and knew I had no alternative.
I pulled on my briefs and wandered to the bathroom where Jake was just finishing his morning routine. He was already dressed but looked worried as he asked if I was OK. I nodded that I was and gave him a half smile, which was greeted by an even bigger one from him as he rushed past me to breakfast. I looked in the mirror and saw dark circles under my eyes… I looked awful but a quick dunk under the cold water tap and a cold-water wash instantly relieved my pastiness.
Auntie had repaired the broken zip on the shorts, washed and dried the plastic pants and gave them to me to return, ‘with thanks’, to the nurse. As we were running a little late she said that she would drive us to school to make it a bit easier but I really think it was to make sure I went. I really wished I could have worn my jeans I just wasn’t comfortable in shorts any more but school rules meant that all students, certainly of my year, had no option. However, throughout the day I kept avoiding Kenny and any conversation about my ordeal on the bus and just wished I could get home soon and change into something more ‘age appropriate’ and less childish.
At lunchtime, when Kenny suggested we go up to the playing fields to eat, I made some excuse and went off to speak to someone else. In fact, every time he came near me I tried to ignore him or moved away or found something I just had to get on with. His usually smiling face and bright eyes changed throughout the day and I could see he was getting a bit worried about my attitude. I was glad I was hurting him. It was his fault I was bullied and his fault I had so easily slipped into being a big baby… yes my problems were the result of him being my friend. No more would I be fascinated by his diapers… in fact… if I never saw another diaper again, it would be too soon. My interest in them was now zero and my interest in Kenny was the same.
The following day the pattern was repeated as I went out of my way to make it clear I was totally ignoring him. There was a sad look in his eyes and at recess I saw him talking to Jake. I wanted to go over and break that up but that would have meant talking, or at least, being in Kenny’s company and I wanted to avoid that. In gym I had noticed that Kenny was back to wearing briefs and there had been no hint of padding for a couple of days but, he had told me he wanted to be a baby, so, I didn’t want him as a friend.
He tried several times to talk to me about the bully but I moved away or talked about something else. I was doing my best to ignore him but in a class of 20 it was impossible to not be close at some point. In one lesson we were paired up by the teacher for a project and Kenny kept asking… what he had done to upset me.
Through clenched teeth I told him: “You… and your baby thing… are ruining my life.” He looked bewildered. “You’ve made me like stuff… and I don’t want to any more… I don’t want to be your friend.”
The last comment really hit home and I saw the concern in his eyes change to real hurt. He was looking at the ground when, after a few seconds, he replied “I’d be your friend even if you didn’t like those things…”
I didn’t let him finish, I got up and told the teacher I felt ill and needed to see the nurse. I left Kenny looking very sad and confused.
That night mum arrived back from her trip to the capital very tired but with some ‘special news’. Both Jake and I made a huge fuss of her and I think auntie was pleased she had someone else to share my moodiness with. Over our evening meal mum told us that the conference and the meetings had all gone well but that there was something she needed to discuss with us.
“Would you boys like to live in the capital?” She said with a hint of worried excitement.
Both Jake and I looked at her and wondered what she meant. “Permanently?” I asked.
“I suppose. They’ve offered me a promotion to Head Office… so we’d have a nice big place…”
Jake was concerned. “What about my friends?”
In the time we’d been at Oakland he’d proved to be very popular. For much of the time we’d only see him for meals and bedtime as he’d be out on his bike, skateboard or playing some game with his group of other 3rd and 4th Graders.
“Well,” mum started to say “you’ll be able to make new friends… you did when we came here… and they…”
“But I don’t want to leave,” Jake whined. “I like it here.”
Mum looked over at me to add something. “I don’t care. Here, there… where ever…” and shrugged my shoulders.
“What about your friends? Kenny…?”
“I don’t have any friends here so…” I made a face trying to show I was disinterested.
Mum looked across at her sister for some kind of explanation but auntie just made a face of resignation.
Jake was getting more upset and started to sob. “… but… I don’t want to go anywhere. It’s not fair.”
Mum tried to console him but he burst into tears. “It’s not fair. It’s not…”
I suppose mum knew this might happen so looked at me for some kind of response but I just sat there totally unsympathetic to Jake’s pain. She told him that it was a great opportunity for her and that we’d be in a lovely area… and at a new school, which was a lot larger than Oakland so there would be more kids his age to meet and make friends with. It was having no effect on Jake who ran off to his room and slammed the door.
I asked if I’d have to wear shorts at this new school but she looked annoyed at my question and said she didn’t know but why did it matter? I was silent and just looked down at my empty plate as my reply. Mum knew that there was something going on and as I wasn’t very forthcoming asked me to go to my room as she wanted to talk to auntie in private. I shrugged and went to play on my Xbox.
Mum and auntie were talking for a long time and as it was late I got myself ready for bed, the onesies and pull-ups forgotten as I put on my t-shirt and boxers. I think mum came in at some point as I felt her kiss my head but I was too drowsy to say anything. However, that night I had the worst dream I ever had and it concerned Jake and Kenny. There were both in trouble and I just watched, deciding to do nothing rather than help. When, in my dream, they were being dragged to their deaths, I screamed out in terror as I knew I could have prevented it.
Mum and auntie both came in to my room roused by my shriek of horror, I was crying, very agitated and my bed was wet through. Mum held me as I tried to settle down but I was overcome with emotion because of what I did… or didn’t do. Eventually mum got me settled but decided that both the bed and I needed changing. As auntie stripped the bed and put on new bedding, mum took me to the bathroom to help me change. I wasn’t in a state of mind to be worried as mum stripped me, dried me off, powdered me and was about to put me in pull-ups when I screamed “NO” at her.
“Simon.” She said sternly. “You can stop that now.” She looked determined. “You’ve wet the bed and this is just a precaution… and whether you like it or not… this is what you are going to wear.”
I kicked and squirmed and screamed my defiance. “Stop that now.” She must have told me loads of times but I wasn’t going to be put into diapers or pull-ups ever again so I fought and made more noise. Mum warned me several times that if I continued I’d be punished but I still wouldn‘t let her put me in the pull-ups. Eventually, and out of shear frustration she pulled me over her lap and delivered half a dozen swats with her hand to my naked bottom.
I’d never been spanked in my life and was completely shocked by what had happened. My tantrum stopped to be replaced by real tears as the effects of my smacked bum kicked in. I froze, and in those moments mum tugged the pull-ups into place then hugged me tightly. It was strange because although I was crying at my stinging bottom, my defiance had left me and I just wanted to be cuddled by my mum. She held me and rocked gently until I calmed down and then she carried me back to my freshly made bed.
“Simon,” she said as she tucked me in and stroked my hair, “you have had a terrible experience with a bully.” So auntie had told her all about that incident, “but you are a good boy. You’re thoughtful and a good friend. Don’t let a nasty boy change who you are.”
She continued stroking my hair and speaking in a very quiet voice. “I was worried when we came to Oakland that it would all be too much of a disruption for you and Jake but, you have both thrived here. You’ve both made terrific friends and you’ve both improved at school and I couldn’t be more proud of the way you’ve turned out.”
Mum’s soothing words were lodging in my head… it was the same as auntie had said; “Don’t change… be a free spirit”, that’s when it hit me and I realised that the bully had made me ‘change’. It wasn’t about being a baby or anything else for that matter, it was about me being who I was… and I liked who I was. With mum back and in charge and, despite my sore bottom, I felt safe. I forgot she’d put me back into pull-ups because I was feeling relaxed, comfortable and padded so soon fell into a deep sleep.
I woke up wet. Not very wet but my pull-up was more than a little damp and I was glad I’d worn it to soak up my leaking. After I’d showered and returned to my room all my school clothes were arranged on the chair as usual except my underwear. Mum was letting me decide what I wanted to wear to school and for the first time in a few days, I wasn’t anxious about it. I went to my underwear draw and saw that the plastic pants were there as well as my usual briefs and boxers. I looked in my cupboard and, although I’d chucked them all over the floor earlier, the pull-ups, diapers and assorted other things were neatly stacked up. Even the cloth diapers were all washed and arranged ready for use, if and when, they might be needed… or wanted. I decided, since I had wet twice overnight that a little bit of protection might be a good idea so I pulled on two pairs of pull-ups and my plastic pants. It felt really good to be padded and snug as I pulled on my shorts.
At breakfast I wasn’t checked and nothing was said about my antics the night before, apparently Jake had slept right through it all, and auntie offered to drive us to school again. Jake looked across at me but I said that I’d rather catch the bus if it was alright by everyone. Both mum and auntie smiled, while Jake gave a little worried grimace. Oddly enough, when some of the other kids mentioned the stink from last time I made a joke about it and, with everyone laughing, the problem seemed to have passed. The bully wasn’t a passenger so that made it a bit easier and we arrived at school none the worse for the journey.
Next I noticed Kenny wearing a rather thick and obvious diaper under his shorts. As I approached he looked half scared but I pulled up the leg of my shorts to show him my plastic protection and shouted as loud as I could “Snap.” He giggled his infectious giggle and his face lit up like before.
“Bad night?” he beamed.
“The worst,” I replied returning his smile. “Wet, spanked, cried and diapered.”
“Sounds like a good night to me.” He laughed, then realising exactly what I had said he questioned, “Spanked?”
“Yep…” I said as we were entering the classroom, “I’ll tell you all about it at recess.”
This story is written by Les Lea
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