Baby Dick Part 4

This story is written by Les Lea

In the morning I was extremely wet but realised I’d have to see to myself as no one had volunteered to change me. As I waddled to the bathroom mum noticed and said that it was fine for me to wear what I liked at home but suggested that for school I wear something more appropriate to my age. I hadn’t been planning on wearing a nappy to school, I thought it would be just too inconvenient, but with mum’s words ringing in my ears there was no doubt I’d be wearing my white briefs under my uniform… they were similar to what about 50% of the boys wore anyway.

Once at school I was still getting comments but the novelty of the poster campaign, and the vigilance of the teachers, had calmed things down. It wasn’t until last period that, as I walked from one classroom to the next past the boy’s toilets, that I was accosted by Archie Simmons. Archie was one of Cuddy’s nastier henchmen, some sort of demented cousin who most teachers were scared of and who dragged me forcefully into the empty room.

Toilets, especially boy’s toilets, have a particular smell and a foreboding atmosphere at the best of times but being held by the lapels by this brute really scared me and I knew any scream for help wouldn’t be answered. It was a generally known fact that if Cuddy and his gang was inside… the toilet was the last place you wanted to be so had the place to themself.

Over some time he’d managed to make the boy’s washroom a ‘no go’ area for teachers who used to check in on them to make sure there were no smokers or anything untoward going on. He’d complained about some innocent teachers hanging around the toilet and complained to the headmaster that he didn’t think it right that perverts should be employed by the school. The ructions that caused meant that he and his gang had free reign when it came to occupying the toilet block with little or no supervision from a patrolling teacher.

He smiled a most cruel smile and with a cold stare that would instantly solidify steam he said that Cuddy had noticed I wasn’t wearing a nappy, even after he’d gone to such lengths to provide me with one. That kind of disrespect could only lead to some “…unpleasant consequences” (I thought Cuddy must have given him the line because I knew he wasn’t capable of coming up with such a phrase) and that in future I’d be expected, as per Cuddy’s instructions, to wear what a Baby Dick should wear in the company of grown-ups.

“A fuckin’ nappy.”

His threat was chilling but the fact that I didn’t get punched at the end of it (he just sort of rearranged my lapels as if he was doing me a favour smartening my clothes up), left me a jittering wreck. This was a new move; no violence just verbal menaces that left you in no doubt as to the consequences of inaction.

However, I thought I’d got off pretty leniently because Archie had a reputation of hitting first and then not bothering to ask the question… that was until I felt the warm glow around my crotch and noticed the wet stain grow. I’d been so terrified my bladder had reacted to the threat. I couldn’t spend any more time in the toilet but splashed some water all down my front. It looked like I’d been caught in a rainstorm by the time I got to class but my excuse of a faulty tap was accepted by the teacher, although there were comments of disbelief from some of my classmates.
“Looks like he really needs a nappy,” I heard being whispered between some of the lads.

By the time I got home I was almost dry and as I stripped off in my room I saw that my pristine white briefs were now a mucky pale orangey colour. It was quite weird really because such a stain in my nappy never produced the disgust I felt at that moment… and I wondered how I’d get mum to let me wear nappies to school. Not that I was scared… I was terrified if I didn’t comply. I didn’t know what to do next, whether to try and find an alternative, use what had been left in my locker or beg mum to get me some disposables. I slipped into a pair of gym shorts and set about doing my homework.

#

I think mum sensed that something was wrong when she called me down for tea. I’d not spoken to anyone other than a grunt of acknowledgement when Helen asked if I was okay. However, mum came in and noticed my dirty briefs and guessed I’d had an accident. I didn’t tell her what really happened but said that I’d just left it too late to get to the loo and…

I said I was sorry but she had a package with her and opening it up revealed she’d bought me several fabric nappies and plastic pants, plus all the creams and lotions that I associated with having to wear a nappy.

“These,” she said displaying everything on my bed, “are for when you’re feeling little and need the comfort of a nappy.”
She was very matter of fact.

“I’ll help you put them on to begin with but you’ll have to learn yourself because I don’t intend on doing it forever.”

I nodded.

“If you feel the need tonight I’ll come up and supervise when you go to bed but for the moment, your gym shorts will do, so come down for tea.”

I looked at the stuff she’d bought and I was very happy. Despite her saying she wasn’t delirious about me wanting to be little, mum realised that I needed something and if she could make me happy, then she would.

“Mum, I want to wear protection at school.”

I didn’t explain the most recent threat and she arched her eyebrows as if to say “Tell me why”.

“I peed my pants today and… and it shocked me… because I didn’t know I was doing it.”

It was a lame excuse and I’m not sure she believed me but I insisted.

“Look, I think I can get to the boys room if and when I need to but… I like the idea of protection just in case I can’t. Today I had to pretend that a fast flow from the tap had taken me by surprise and soaked my pants, I don’t think that excuse would work again.”

#

In my head this all sounded convincing but mum looked at me wearily.

“Well,” she eventually said, “it’s up to you. If you think you can cope with that and the comments from your classmates…”
She changed tack.

“Are you sure you’ve thought this through sweetheart? I’m not sure the teachers will be on-board with it.”

“I’d rather folk didn’t know I’d wet my pants rather than worrying about anything else.”

I whined in my best whiney voice.

“Well okay then… it’s your school friends but if any teacher has reason to speak to me or your father… it has to come to a stop… okay?”

What I didn’t know at the time was that dad and mum had already discussed all of this and dad was of the opinion that as soon as I had to do everything for myself (including washing nappies and plastic pants every morning) I’d soon tire of the entire thing and revert back to normality.

I nodded my agreement because my spirits began to rise as I thought about the new stuff she’d bought I’d so soon get to wear. It was only later that it hit me that Cuddy and his mates would be on at me straight away and I’d have to prove I was wearing the ‘proper’ protection.

#

I didn’t sleep much and even the comfort of a thick disposable didn’t help. All I kept thinking about was Cuddy, and worse still, Archie setting about me because I was wearing the wrong thing. I thought about telling a teacher but knew in the past that they only reacted to something happening, not what a pupil ‘imagined’ might happen. In the meantime, I hoped that the nappy and plastic pants I’d decided to wear would be enough to stave off the humiliation I hoped to avoid but I hadn’t banked on how nasty (or cunning) Cuddy could be.

#

I got ready for school myself. I was apprehensive but knew I couldn’t escape what was to happen so hoped that by meeting it face on I’d be better prepared. What I had envisioned being a pleasurable experience, putting myself into thick protection, was a nervy experience. I couldn’t quite get the nappy to fold correctly or the pins to hold it firm, in the end I had to ask mum to come and help, which thankfully she did.

However, she complained that I’d forgotten the golden rule and that was to use copious amounts of anti-rash cream and powder first off before the nappy was applied. Then she took fastidious care in how it was put on and showed me the secret of a tight fit; it was all down to the pinning. As promised mum had bought me some plastic pants and they were a thick, shiny white style that hugged everything in place. I was then ready for the rest of my uniform and I was surprised to see that the bulge wasn’t as evident as I thought it might have been.

Strangely, that first day in a nappy at school, although anxious, it wasn’t Cuddy and his chums that noticed. In fact, they didn’t bother me at all and it was only Jeremy and his mates in my class that mentioned I looked like I was wearing a diaper (yes, they called it a diaper) and, like everyone I’ve ever known, continually patted my padding whenever they were in range. They weren’t nasty about it, just sort of acknowledging it was probably a sensible precaution with Cuddy on the warpath.

No one was in any doubt that it had been Cuddy who had forced me into a disposable and taken those photos to embarrass me, but no one saw it happen so couldn’t come to my defence. Of course there were those who loved to see others in distress or being humiliated because it meant it wasn’t they who were on the end of such cruelty. They even cheered the demise of the weaker element and ganged up a bit themselves, safe in the knowledge that they were at least stronger than someone else. There is a lot of bullying goes on at all levels of education and it’s not always done by the pupils.

#

In fact, on the fourth day of my nappies-to-school regime I learned that Cubby and his mates had been suspended for a week owing to a ‘disagreement’ with one of the teachers. So, I hadn’t needed to wear them at all, which was a shame because, I could have enjoyed wearing them if I hadn’t been in constant fear about a sudden Cuddy confrontation.

However, I was wearing them 24/7 and was getting used to the feeling they gave me. I’d taken on-board mum’s suggestions and process and found that it did leave me feeling very secure indeed.

I was also getting used to wearing plastic pants over the nappy and thoroughly enjoyed that extra layer of protection.

Dad was surprised at how easily (and well) I took to washing my own stuff, hanging it out to dry and wandering around the house wearing nothing else. My brother and sister smiled and patted my padded bum as I passed but no negativity… it was in its own way quite thrilling.

At home I wasn’t on edge and my nappies gave me the feeling I thought I wanted. However, the fact that I wasn’t being treated as a toddler was frustrating and none of my family would play the game. The ridiculous thing; and it didn’t occur to me straight away, was that Cuddy and his mates were quite intent on treating me as a ‘no dick toddler’ and was so scared of what they might do… I neglected this important piece of data.

#

The following week Cuddy was back and just before the bell went at school on Monday morning, Archie cornered me and marched me into the boy’s urinals. There Cuddy stuck his hand down the back of my pants and was gratified to feel the silky rubber pants and padding.

“Well there’s a good little Baby Dick.” His voice was slimy but he thought he’d won a victory over me and I’d had no alternative than to do as he commanded. I didn’t put him right.
“Plastic pants as well… my baby brother wears these… you look pretty much alike.”

He nodded to his friends as if he was in total control of the situation.

“Okay Baby Dick… every morning there’ll be an inspection by one of us… so you’d better keep that baby padding on… or there’ll be trouble.”

I think that last bit was for the benefit of his gang, just to make sure his threat was noted and of course to prove that all the kids in school were pretty terrorised by him. For the first time I relaxed a little because I had no intention of wearing anything else. He wasn’t to know I wore these at home and if he thought I was under his influence and so scared I would wear a nappy just because he said so, well, I, erm, um, well, I might be a little scared but I wore because I wanted to. I convinced myself of that.

#

Although I desperately wanted to pee in my nappy, at school I thought it better to rush to the boy’s toilets when I needed to go. Although it was a bit of a faff to wriggle my fingers up the leg hole and release my willy I thought it better than changing myself there. Despite the constant patting from Cuddy and his mates (and one or two others who knew) the system seemed to be working and for a week things were going as planned.

The following Monday morning at my inspection Cuddy was very aggressive when he plunged his hand down the front of my trousers. He could feel the plastic pants and padding but there was something missing.

“You’re not wet.”

For the first time in over a week I got scared.

“I gather you’ve been using the boy’s toilets,” he snarled in my face. “That’s not a place for little baby dicks like you. It’s out of bounds from now on…” he paused. “I have eyes everywhere so don’t

think for a moment I won’t know if you try to change your new rule.”

The smile returned to his face as he smirked his latest command.

“From now on…. you’ll go in your nappy like the little baby dick you are.”

He pulled down my pants to reveal me standing there in just my protection.

“You’d better start now.”

#

I was flummoxed. I didn’t know how to respond except that I didn’t want to wet myself there and then. However, the decision wasn’t mine, he wanted me to pee my pants but I begged him not to make me.

He threatened and smacked the back of my head and I knew his warning was about to take on a more physical stance.

I willed myself to pee and after a few more smacks to my head I eventually squeezed out a spurt.

“Ohh more than that baby,” he chuckled, “I want to see this thing filled.” He patted my padded bottom.

Surprisingly, after that first laboured spurt, the rest flowed with no trouble and I could feel the warming glow as he squeezed my nappy and felt its growing sogginess.
“That’s a good baby… now you’ll be checked more regularly and that nappy better be soaked every time or… I wouldn’t like to be you.”
The threat was uncompromising and I felt tears spring to my eyes.

He seemed satisfied he’d made me wet myself, his friends had witnessed the power he had and, to top it all, I’d cried. He swaggered off completely pleased with what he’d done and boasting to his mates that they should inspect my sopping padding at every opportunity. I’m not sure that anyone wanted that particular task but they did as Cuddy said… they didn’t want to be made to pee their own pants on demand.

#

I was left with my trousers around my ankles and a full and wet bloated nappy I now had to contend with. I knew with the departure of the gang that the braver elements of the school would soon be using the facility and I had to react quickly. I didn’t have anything to change into so, with the warmth still spreading around my genitals, I speedily hauled up my pants and got out as soon as I could.

What I didn’t think about was there’d be an audience waiting to use the toilet, too scared to enter whilst Cuddy was conducting ‘business’ but a loud whisper began to circulate that I’d wet myself even though I didn’t think anyone could see. Perhaps I was naive enough to believe Cuddy and his mates would have kept my secret – alas, no.

To begin with the plastic pants kept it all contained but as the day progressed, and more pee was added to the sodden material, so the seepage began. I arrived home and both the nappy and my trousers were wet through. I was embarrassed because so many people knew I wore a nappy… and still I wet my pants.

I hid all this from my family. I thought I could deal with it myself and I didn’t want mum and dad creating at school. Dad had already said that if there was any comment from staff and it was brought to his attention ALL my nappy exploits would come to an end.

#

The following day I didn’t want to go to school but decided I’d double the thickness by inserting a soaker pad or two and wear the most robust rubber pants I had in my collection. The problem this caused was the bulk was now incredibly visible and there was no getting away from my pronounced waddle. A couple of teachers asked me about it but I said I was experiencing a bout of incontinence , so mum had insisted I wear proper protection… she didn’t want me to miss any classes. This seemed to allay any suspicions, which I was pleased about.

Cuddy took it as a personal triumph that I now had to wear double thickness to collect a day’s pee and he and his mates took great delight in making sure I was wet all the time. When Archie got me alone one time he even insisted I filled my nappy just for him. This was one guy I didn’t dare refuse, which, judging by his maniacal laughter once I’d done so, was the correct decision.

“You are such a fuckin’ baby aren’t you Smith?”

I knew it was a rhetorical question but nodded anyway.

“Wearing a nappy and fuckin’ pissin’ yerself… fuck… you should be in a toddler group not here.”

I couldn’t have agreed more. The wet thickness of my nappy was testament to my juvenile status and it was only when Archie had said what he had that I realised that Cuddy and his gang were, perhaps without meaning to, giving me that babyish element I was missing. Outwardly I was being forced to do what I was doing yet inside… well… just let me say my feelings were a little more complex.

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 3

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Auntie Joan Part 12

This story is written by Les Lea

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

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

#

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

#

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

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

#

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

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

#

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

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

#

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

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

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

#

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

#

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

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

#

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

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

#

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

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

#

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

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

#

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

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

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

#

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

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

#

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

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

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

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

#

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

#

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

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

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

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

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

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

#

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

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

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

#

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

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

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

#

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

This story is written by Les Lea

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

Chapter 11

Chapter 13

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Auntie Joan Part 4

This story is written by Les Lea

Monday morning and I was nervous. It was to be my first day at Rainbow Rooms and, as Auntie had pointed out the day before; I would be treated just like all the other kids. I would dress the same, I would eat the same, I’d play the same and I would nap when told to. I was not going to get any special privileges except, at the end of the day, I’d be returning home with auntie.

#

We’d spent an awful lot of Sunday chatting and I discovered a great deal about my parents that I never knew. Like, for instance, they had met at university and both had been Math Majors, apparently, they fell for each other over a discussion on Calculous. This meant nothing to me accept auntie informed me that they married early and tried, as soon as Uni finished, having a family. Alas, they were thwarted in their efforts and ended up immersing themselves in their careers, which were both spiralling to greatness in their chosen fields.
As it turned out, dad became a government analyst, whilst mother was headhunted for her code-breaking research, so both ended up working in the same ‘state’ department in the capital. Both mom and dad stopped discussing their work with family and were often away on special assignments around the globe. Then, as an unexpected career-ender, I came on the scene. I was such a surprise that mom never even knew she was expecting until two months before I arrived.

To say I was a shock to my parents system was a bit of an understatement and although they appeared on the surface to be incredibly happy at this ‘wonderful’ event, I arrived at the wrong time in their lives. According to auntie both of them tried to be good parents but such were the demands on them and their specialised knowledge, they shoved me off for others to look after.
“Your parents were both incredibly clever,” she said this as if, in some way, she was proud of their achievements.
“Alas, I’m afraid their parenting skills had left them completely by the time you were almost out of diapers. However, they wanted what they thought was best for you, even if they couldn’t actually be there to make it happen, so… you were handed over to people they thought could bring you up better.”
I wanted to interrupt. I wanted desperately to ask why she hadn’t taken me in; I never gave it any thought that perhaps she had her own ambitions that didn’t include me.
“Education, learning, achieving… these were your father’s edicts on life in general.”

She looked a bit sorrowful at me and to be honest I was feeling more than a bit sorry for myself as she continued.
“What it was like to be a parent completely passed them by… and to be honest, from the little we could glean from their hectic lives, the government needed their abilities more and more. So, they sent you off to where they thought you’d be best educated and I presume, because of their increasingly important work, safe.”
I know auntie wasn’t trying to be unkind but I felt like I was a burden to my parents and found that upsetting. Knowing I was the problem and not my illustrious parents was not what a thirteen year-old boy can quite grasp and I was feeling very sick in my stomach at the thought. I felt hopeless, useless and I wept not knowing what or who the tears were for, my head found it hard to cope.
That Sunday was a complete and utter revelation. However, as I listened (and sobbed) at least I gained more info about my parents in those few hours than I had in the rest of my life.

#

She also showed me photographs of her and my Uncle Bill, who I didn’t remember at all, and the glass trophy they had won for their dancing. Apparently they had met twenty years ago just as auntie was building The Rainbow Rooms Nursery. He had been an odd-job man and there to put the finishing touches to the building; painting, plastering, doing any of the little bits of carpentry that were left. She had been entranced by his easy going and affable nature, the fact that he looked great in his overalls also had a big say in her pursuing him.
They had struck up a conversation, found they both enjoyed dancing and in what appeared to have been a whirlwind romance, were married within six-months. He continued his odd-job work, she saw her nursery flourish, which he thought was amazing as he loved children as much as his wife, and they lived happily ever after. Well not quite.
It was strange as I looked in her album and saw all the happy photos of this rather handsome man I felt I’d missed out on so much again. What would it have been like to have a family, a family who loved me, a family who was there? My eyes filled up and I began to softly weep, which set auntie off and between us we hugged each other in comfort.
However, every time auntie patted my padded bottom I knew all was now well and I was secure; the soft rustling of my plastic pants a gentle reminder of that rather basic fact.

#

At around 6.30am auntie had come into the nursery to wake me up for my first real Rainbow day. My night had been filled with confusing dreams of my parents, except Auntie Joan and Uncle Bill were them, my real mom and dad were just passing people who appeared to have very little to do with me… apart from wave from a distance. I know at one point I got pretty anxious and shrieked out because I noted that in the morning I was hugging a teddy bear, which hadn’t been with me at the start of the night.
It was extraordinary, after I’d screamed, although I can’t remember if it was in fear for something to do with me or terror about someone else, a voice calmed me, telling me everything was going to alright, not to worry and go back to sleep. In my dream a teddy was placed in my outstretched arms and I loved the feel of his soft fur against my skin. The effect was instant. Everything was just as the disembodied voice had said, I was snuggly and relaxed and had my teddy for security.
“How is my best little boy this morning?”

She beamed as she moved around, dropped down the rails and pulled back my duvet.
I was grinning in happiness at being called her ‘best little boy’. All this sweet talk and cheeriness was having an impact on the way I woke up; excited and in high spirits.
“I see my little boy had a fright in the night,” she felt down my diaper, “let’s get you washed and changed as you have a big new day today.”

#

The fact that my thick night time fabric diaper was absolutely sodden was taken for granted – no big deal because the rest of the bed was bone dry. Although when at school I had wet the bed only occasionally, since the funeral it had become a nightly thing. I was grateful for the nappy, I didn’t like waking up to a soaked bed and it made me feel better knowing I hadn’t wet anything other than myself. She popped the studs on the onesie, pulled off my plastic protection and unpinned the diaper, helped me out of bed and patted my bottom towards the bathroom.
“Everything thoroughly washed and dried,” she said ruffling my short hair and gently slapping my bum once more in fun.
I was naked and toddled off to shower myself for what promised to be the start of an exhilarating day.

Showering appeared to be the only grown up act that I was allowed to do for myself because when I returned, everything was laid out and ready for the day ahead. Auntie inspected that I was dry and wiped any areas that I’d missed. She oiled and lotioned my entire body making sure that no rash or roughness had appeared on my delicate, newly exfoliated skin.
Once again my penis began to get engorged but auntie quickly powdered and applied a very thick soaker pad to my fresh clean disposable and taped it into place. This made access to my genitals almost impossible so I wouldn’t be seeking relief anytime soon. This time the diaper was covered in a pair of white rubber pants that gripped the top of my legs and waist tightly but added a slick, shiny look to my outfit. I had loved the nursery print pants I’d worn previously, and when we were alone I hoped to do so again, but I was glad that auntie had gone with a more neutral, if bulkier, look for my first day.

She’d found a loose fitting blue and green striped t-shirt from one of my unopened crates in the other bedroom and a pair of elasticated shorts, which hung loosely around my hips, from somewhere else. They didn’t hide my protection but at least they didn’t emphasise it either. I slipped into a pair of blue trainers to complete the first day in my ‘Rainbow Rooms Nursery Collection’.

#

I knew that Rainbow operated from 7.30am to 4.00pm and as it was now 7.35 realised that she was letting a few more of the usual kids get there first before I was introduced to them all. She had called Julie, her No. 2, the day before to explain that I’d be attending and that we’d be in about 8am. She also told her my age but said that owing to the tragedy that had recently befallen me, I was really not able to deal with any situation a boy my age would normally be expected to be able to cope with. This gave her the perfect excuse to introduce me to the other children as someone who was just like them, the staff already being pre-informed of my ‘problem’.
As I finished my breakfast cereal auntie was on the phone making arrangements for later that day.
“Hello Gordon.”
She listened for the reply.
“Yes it is… pause… Yes I’m back… pause… I have some jobs for you and Colin if you are available?”
She walked through to the den to finish her call and I could no longer hear what was being said.
However, I’d found a new thing to occupy myself with; my slippery bottom and loose fitting shorts made an ideal padded, rustling sound as I slid against the chair. It felt funny, and sounded funny, and I was really quite absorbed in the strange sensations it created as I wriggled more and more in my seat. I was enjoying the completely silly experience of being silly and making a noise just because I found it entertaining. I didn’t realise that auntie had finished her call and was smiling as I bounced around making strange noises thanks to my padded bottom, rubber pants and slippery chair.

#

As we walked the short distance from the house to the nursery (auntie had told me she liked that term better than kindergarten or crèche) I was nervous. Nervous of being out where people could see me dressed as I was, happy that I was dressed as I was, loving the warm morning air as it swirled around my bare legs and incredibly happy that I was holding auntie’s hand as she led me into the reception area of her business.

All the small faces looked up for a few seconds and then got back to whatever they were doing. Obviously, seeing a taller toddler around the place was nothing new but the staff was quick to welcome me and feel part of the session.

Auntie had advised me to take my time to get involved. She pointed out that as a thirteen year-old my language skills were way ahead of the toddlers so, to listen and get their speech patterns, listen to how they describe or ask for things and then do things at their level, otherwise she said laughing, “They’ll think you’re just another member of staff.”
As usual, auntie made sense and I watched for a while. All the staff were engrossed with the children; there were four under 12 months, babies really, but the rest were from two and a half up to five years old.

It was fascinating watching what they did and how they went about it but Molly and William came and grabbed me and wanted to play – they were sort of the toddler welcoming committee.

#

I got down on all-fours and followed them to a play area which had huge cubes and shapes made out of colourful plastic backed foam. We set about creating a building of some description (and to Molly’s design) and had a great deal of fun watching the towers we built fall on top of us. There was a lot of laughter and squealing with delight involved.
My shorts rode up over the glossy white cushioned diaper so it could be clearly seen by anyone who might be interested I was just as padded as some of the other kids. Actually, there were about half who looked protected and others who’d made the grade to potty training, so wore normal underwear. However, Molly and William and a couple more of their friends were definitely like me because at one point I had two of them sitting on my tummy, another balancing on my knees and Molly’s little padded bottom wriggling on my head.
I’m not sure how to describe the sensation of having a plastic clad, damp and diapered little bum rubbing itself, with not a care in the world, into your face but it was quite overwhelming. The other diapered kids were equally unrestrained as they bound around and bounced up and down on my own well-protected and padded groin.
Occasionally one of the staff might ask if one of the boy’s or girl’s particularly droopy nappy (that’s my English education coming out again – ‘nappy’?) might need changing and if so, they were whisked over to the diaper station and quickly attended to.

#

Well into the morning and I was having fun. We stopped and sat around in a circle having milk and cookies whilst one of the interns, a pretty girl of about seventeen, read us all a story. Some of the kids drank their milk from Sippy cups or a baby’s bottle; although some were more than keen to show off they were grown up and didn’t need such childish things. I was given a Sippy cup like Molly and William for my milk and I couldn’t have been happier. The cookies were sweet, crumbly and definitely yummy.
My nappy was damp but I didn’t know if it was from sweating with all the running about or, if in my excitement, I’d let loose a flow. However, when a hand pulled at my shorts and felt down the front, I was led off by one of the main staff to be changed. I wondered if auntie would come and sort me out but it was left to the hand-owner to strip me down, wipe me clean, spread some cream around, powder and eventually slip me into a fresh clean disposable then back into my white rubber pants.
She then smiled, patted my dry padded bottom and said I could go back to play with my friends.

#

It was amazing! I wasn’t treated any differently to the other diaper wearing pre-schoolers. I was worried that my ‘emotions’ would mean I’d have a difficult time containing my excitement and that my de-pubed genitals might react. However, they were ignored, pushed to one side and the job of making sure I was sanitary and tidy was the obvious priority… it was almost as if I didn’t have a penis at all.

When diapered, and the bulge in my shorts seemed to accentuate my groin, I loved the fact that it didn’t allow access. Despite the fact that all this protection had become a major influence on my moment to moment existence, the potty was definitely out of the question and all my instinctive actions were that I could and should use my nappy. The urges that normally lingered ‘down below’, were of little to no importance.

#

Screaming in delight as we ran around the garden (I on all fours), flitting from one shaded area to the next, all of us in bare feet enjoying the tickle of grass between our toes, we spoke in very childish terms. They asked how old I was but I said I didn’t know though hoped I was the same age as them as they were my new friends. They liked that answer because both William and Thomas cuddled me. These little padded kiddies, with no ulterior motive, hugged and patted me as if I was a new found pet and that was simply wonderful. I felt accepted, so when Molly, Elizabeth and Corey, with whom I’d also been playing did the same… I was in my element.
Most of the nappy wearers smelled slightly of pee and poo and I wondered how long before I did… or did I already?

#

After lunch, ‘quiet time’ was announced so we all toddled to a little mat and lay out. It was too hot to need a blanket but I thought no one would be able to fall asleep after such an exciting morning. I was wrong. Not only did the blinds at the windows make the room nice and dark, there was a lilting piece of atmospheric music gently playing in the background, which appeared to push all other thoughts from the mind and let you quickly settle down. To my complete surprise I woke up with all the others about 45 minutes later. My other surprise, I was completely soaked and joined the queue to be changed. This time it was one of the interns, a nice, softly spoken Irish girl called Gwen who had the honour of cleaning me up.
She, like the rest of the staff, was quick and efficient and I was soon back, lying on my tummy crayoning with a few other kids. Normally I’m reasonably OK with art projects but on this occasion I let Molly and another quietly spoken and nervous-looking girl called Beatrice help me choose each colour I should use. Beatrice was wearing a cute little tutu style dress with her thick padding in matching pink plastic heavily on show. She decided to sit on my padded bottom to watch what I did and make noises of approval; well I hoped that’s what they were. Eventually she got up and wondered round to my head and I could see her diaper was hanging even more heavily than before and she had more than a faint odour of poo. Two seconds later and Doreen, one of the main staff, saw he sagging diaper and whisked her off with a smile and jolly words about being a lovely princess who should meet the ‘diaper fairy’.

#

Four pm came around far too quickly. Parents started to arrive and collect their offspring and there was a lot of chatting and discussion about… well… what do parents talk about? For once, I wasn’t really all that interested. It could have been about the cost of living, some political furore or me, I just did not care. I’d spent the best part of the day in nothing but play and I felt brilliant. I was only saddened that it had come to an end so soon but that feeling of despair soon was turned into one of elation as I realised that I’d be doing it all over again the following day. Being a tot was certainly a lot of highs and lows in pretty quick succession but I loved it.

I’d played, made new friends, been changed, made more new friends, screamed, squealed, charged around, napped, ate and wet myself and I wanted more of it all. As a thirteen (almost fourteen) year-old this was absolutely the most fun I’d ever had and it topped my computer games as a way of entertainment, like a million to one.
Other than at the start of the morning I hadn’t seen much of auntie. I suppose she was busy organising, arranging and doing what principals do but I know she kept an eye on everything that was happening. When a little later, after all the other kids had been picked up and she offered me her hand saying, “Let’s go”, I felt like I’d just had the best day of my life and I couldn’t stop squeezing her hand and thanking her for giving me so much.

#

Once we arrived back at 46 Glendew Lane I could see a young man just packing up a truck, it had GorCol Services written on the side and in script underneath, No job too small.
“Good afternoon Mrs Marsden, hope your day was fine?”
“Yes, thank you Gordon, hope all the little jobs weren’t too much for you and Colin?” She asked with a smile.
“No ma-am, we can come back tomorrow to give it all another coat of paint… if that’s OK with you… meanwhile, I think Colin is just finishing off upstairs. He’ll be down in a minute.”
“Fantastic, you boys certainly work hard… and fast, tomorrow will be fine but…” and she pushed me forward to meet this tall, blond-haired twenty something man, “this is Dean my nephew, and the reason for all the changes, he’ll be living here from now on.”
He reached out his large firm hand.

“Pleased to meet you Dean, your aunt is a fine lady…”
Whilst holding on to my rather juvenile handshake he looked me up and down, obviously taking in my bulky diaper and childish clothes. For the first time that day I felt uneasy under his gaze and wanted to hide just what I was wearing.
“…seems like you’ll fit in just fine around here.”
The smile was one of shear friendliness and my initial reserves disappeared as an equally good-looking young man joined him in his greeting.
Gordon introduced him.
“Dean, this is my brother Colin.”

He also shook my hand and nodded an acknowledgement but I could see he was as reticent as I was on this first meeting.
They climbed into the cab of their truck and, waving to us both, said they would be back in the morning to finish things off.
“Come inside,” auntie said, “I’ll tell you who they are over some food … you must be famished… you’ve never stopped all day.

#

“Gordon and Colin Hudson were two boys your Uncle Bill took under his wing when they were kids.”
I munched down on the pie auntie had supplied, fresh from the oven, together with mashed potatoes and veg. I don’t know how she knew it but had also made thick onion gravy, which I got a taste for back in the UK. I was half expecting to be eating baby food but this was wonderful and in between mouthfuls, she continued with whom these men were and what they did.
“They were just ten and eleven year-old, Gordon being the eldest, when they came to Bill’s attention as a couple of hooligans. Their parents had split up, dad was a drunk and they were left to fend for themselves.”

I continued tucking into my meal as she smiled at the memory.
“Somewhere in the course of their loutish behaviour they smashed down some doors at a property where Bill was working but he caught them.”
She could tell I was engrossed.

“He gave them the option of him calling the police, after which they would no doubt be spending time in a kid’s detention home, where they might possibly be split up, or they could help him repair the damage they’d done. Colin, the youngest started to cry at the very thought of not having his brother around so they reluctantly agreed to help.”
She looked at me as if revealing a huge secret.
“Bill discovered, that even at that young age, they had incredible carpentry skills. They fixed the damage and continued to help Bill on a few of his projects. Colin had problems when alone but as long as his brother was around he’d be fine. So, we ended up occasionally giving them refuge if their father was on one of his benders but all-in-all encouraged them to develop their talents.”
She went into slightly more detail but was smiling all the way through remembering the impact that Bill had on all their lives. How easy going, non-judgemental and positive he was. Gordon and Colin were his legacy.

“They have become one of the most reliable little firms in the area, and, are my number one guys to go to if I ever need anything doing.”
I was smiling because she was smiling but it did make me wish that I’d known Uncle Bill, he seemed a genuinely nice guy.
I wriggled in my damp diaper as she finished what she was saying and I swallowed the last piece of pie. I knew I was wet but seemed to just let it flow at the table without even thinking about it. I wasn’t sure if I should feel guilty or not but, well, it happened.
She looked over at me as I thanked her for the lovely meal and put her head to one side.
“Sweetie… are you messy… or just wet?”
It was as if I had no secrets or maybe the pleasure of a soaked diaper was just so apparent. However I nodded.
“Just, er, a little, erm, wet.”
So auntie held out her hand and led me upstairs.

#

My bedroom door was closed and had a sign that proclaimed WET PAINT. Meanwhile, the nursery door was open and I noticed there’d been a few changes in there as well.
“I’ve had the crib taken into my room.” Auntie confirmed. “Meanwhile, as you can see the bed you’ve been sleeping in has been moved over… I’m not sure it is all that comfortable for you as you are growing all the time…”

“No it’s perfect. I really like it.” I interrupted suddenly panicking in case I was going to be forced into the other room now.
“As you can see, I’ve had another bed installed, with your choice of covers and the fleece you wanted, which I hope will be slightly more comfortable for you.”
The room looked terrific. The dresser had been made higher, the shelves of all the diapers and stuff were also raised. Everything looked tidier and the two beds looked fit for a couple of sweet toddlers to have a great night’s sleep in. There was even a rubber mat with play areas and characters marked out all over it, any kid would enjoy. It looked ideal for where a toddler, or someone like me, could have a really good time. At the side of that was a huge box with the word TOYS stencilled across it and hanging off the rails above the diaper station were a selection of colourful plastic and rubber pants. I checked in the closet and a whole new bunch of onesies, sleep suits and toddler clothes were all hanging ready for… me.
“Ohh auntie.” I cried “It looks wonderful.”
I hugged her and she hugged me back.

“This is now your room, although, should you have a sleepover, or I have to babysit, you will be sharing this with any guest… understand?”
I nodded enthusiastically taking in the simple wonders that auntie had produced, well, Gordon and Colin I presumed had produced. The entire nursery just felt even more special and I could feel myself shaking in happiness that I had somewhere like this.
“What’s happening in the other room?” I innocently asked.

“Well, this is something we have to think about. You see, eventually you will have to go to school.”
I could feel the tears building desperately not wanting that to happen after my first day at Rainbow.
“Dean, I have to face facts. At some point the Education Department is going to start asking questions about why you’re not in school. Don’t worry, I shall keep them wondering for as long as I can but, it is inevitable that it will happen.”

My eyes misted over thinking about all I currently had, gone.
“Dean.”

She took me by the shoulders so I was facing her as she explained further.
“This other room is going to be for a boy of your real age; your clothes, computer, everything that a boy your age needs will be there as you grow. There will be times when you are at the next stage in your education that you won’t want to be a toddler, you’ll want to be a teenager, you’ll want other things and they’ll become important to you.”
I didn’t want responsibilities but I knew that, unfortunately, as always, auntie was probably correct.
I’d just gotten used to my diaper and all the other stuff that made me feel, well, protected and like a child again. I’d loved these feelings of unabashed childishness – the liberty to act like a little kid and love every minute of it. To discover such simple and basic pleasures of having no stress because others took charge and made the decisions. My entire body left to enjoy the fun of play and not have to compete or meet anybody else’s expectations.
As I sadly thought all this I felt the slow, warming at the front of my diaper.

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 3

Chapter 5

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Let it… flow (Nothing to do with Frozen)

This story is written by Les Lea

I was looking at some old photographs the other day and one of them was of my dad holding me outside our terraced (and somewhat dilapidated) old house.
The caption, obviously written by my father, read – 9 month old Popsi and me taking the morning air.
Apparently, my nickname as a baby was Popsi and, from the image at least, my sex indeterminate, which I suppose is OK for a baby, as it really doesn’t matter. As it was, I was dressed in a grey looking smock but my large white nappy was clearly visible resting on dad’s arm. I was giggling about something, and dad was smiling, so it must have been a fun occasion for all concerned but the thing was, I never remembered ever being called Popsi.

Now you may be wondering why I’m telling you about this. In fact, I have no idea why I’m sharing this little titbit of my life except as a reminder of the things you forget or aren’t aware of. I’m sure I was called Popsi (by my parents at least) for quite some time although as far as I know, I’ve never had a nickname at school or throughout my adult life.
So, although that early part of my life has been forgotten, there is one thing I do remember because in one way or another it continues to this day.
*
Like I remember, I must have been about six years old and having a bath on my own. I was enjoying playing with my little plastic boats and suddenly I needed a pee. Of course I was already in the bath so it seemed silly to get out and then pee in a different ‘bowl’ of water so I just relaxed and let it flow. I was completely transfixed by the small yellow plume that emerged from my little ‘pidge’ and found that it was something I ended up doing every time I had a bath. Quite simply it was fun and felt good to do.
The problem was, even though my potty training had lasted until I was four and I hadn’t wet the bed for over two years, I suddenly started again. These days I can see a link between the two incidents but at the time, well I was only a kid and it never occurred to me.

The warmth of the bath and the warmth of my bed both perhaps working on my brain to give me a similar feeling of relaxation; the two experiences were becoming one and the same.
However, the connection between the two wasn’t made because no one knew I peed in the bath, all mum saw was that one morning I woke up to a soaked bed. That was followed by further wet bedding and jammies so after a week of such accidents, mum said that I had to return to nappies until I was “over it”.
To say I wasn’t happy about this announcement was a bit of an understatement as I threw a tantrum and became very angry. The very idea of being returned to a ‘baby’ had me screaming the house down in protest, which didn’t help my case.

Now mum had never been a fan of disposables, I’m not sure if that was a result of worrying about the environment or because of the expense, either way, she never had them in the house. As babies we were always put in thick cloth nappies covered in a rather milky white pair of rubber or plastic pants. I have to say they seemed to do the job remarkably efficiently and mum never seemed bothered about colour or fashion.

She is also a no nonsense type of woman. She’s very loving but once her mind is set on a course of action nothing is going to change it. I think dad liked that spark in mum and that’s why he married her (also my oldest brother was on the way).

So, once she’d decided on what needed to be done to protect my bed and bedding, her damp little son was going to be well-wrapped at night whether I liked it or not and, as I said, I did not.
Besides, I had two older brothers and they would just take the piss (so to speak).
They did – as soon as they saw the plastic under-sheet being fastened over my mattress. I was now fair game being referred to as the ‘baby of the family’ and spoken to as if I was still a toddler. My brothers didn’t tire of ‘diddum’s this’ and ‘diddum’s that’ or be constantly checking my padded night time nappy and telling me it was time all babies should be in bed… at 6.30 or earlier.
Anyway, it wasn’t something you could talk to a six year old about so my parents just assumed I was being lazy, which may have been part of it, or that I’d probably grow out of my bed-wetting problem soon enough. In the meantime, nappies were the most obvious solution.
On that first night mum put me in them I was furious but had no option, both mum and dad said it was for my own good and that the sooner I stopped wetting the bed the sooner I could return to my normal PJs.

That initial night was hell, I couldn’t get used to them. They were hot, bulky, uncomfortable and sweaty, which made me squirm around in bed until they were so loose they ‘accidently’ wriggled off. This was a bad move on my part as in the morning my bed was soaked but not the nappy so it was obvious to mum that I hadn’t been wearing it. I got a couple of quick swats to my bare bottom for both lying to her about how it came off and for wetting once again.
The following night she pinned me in, added plastic pants over them and made sure I was under no illusions that if everything wasn’t exactly as she had left it (I.e. me in my protection) I’d be feeling more than the little ‘taps’ I’d received as punishment earlier. She had also made it very clear that I wasn’t to take it off, only she and dad were allowed to do that, so I was to stay in my nappy until told otherwise.

It was still a damned uncomfortable night but I dare not wriggle free of them this time. My crinkly plastic pants and under-sheet adding to my awkwardness but in the end sleep did visit and so did the pee fairy because in the morning my nappy was soaked. Thankfully, as mum saw it, everything else was dry so her precautions had been a huge success.
It felt really awful sitting at the breakfast table with my brother’s giggling at my bloated nappy and plastic pants. Mum said she’d change me when it was time for school. This really worried me because I thought she meant I’d have to wear a nappy to class but in the end she didn’t mean that at all and I went to school in my normal undies … and uniform. What a relief.
I didn’t have accidents during the day it was only when I was asleep or in the bath… but then the ones in the bath weren’t accidents… I really liked the feeling and watching the almost invisible pale yellow trails disappear into the rest of the water. I also discovered that if I peed near the surface, and my boats were somewhere near the flow, I could get the current to make them sail in a particular direction. I got pretty good at keeping a load of pee for when I was scheduled for a bath so I could spend more time on this incredible discovery.
However, protection at night became a regular feature of my bedtime and eventually my brothers got used to seeing me being wrapped in terry cloth and fitted into rubber pants before I went to bed

I shared a room with my two brothers, Leo, the eldest was nine and Gary who was eight shared a big double bed, whilst mine was a small single bed pushed up against the far wall. When all three of us were up or in the room at the same time, like when getting ready for school, it was a very cramped space. With draws, a wardrobe and of course the beds, we had no room for play, it was strictly a place for sleep and changing. This meant that when mum changed me into my night time protection, this was dealt with on my bed and became a bit of a ritual before my brothers needed to get ready. Otherwise there simply wouldn’t have been the room for us all to be changing at the same time and the bathroom was quite small, so there wasn’t much space in there either. We coped but it had to be done to mother’s precision organisation.
She liked to apply the various oils and powders and though I resented being put into nappies, that resentment was getting less and less every time. The thing was I was enjoying peeing in my nappy. On more than one occasion I’d woken up and could quite easily have made it to the toilet in time but enjoyed the warm surge. My nappy, like the bath, became the place to let it flow.
Mum was slightly annoyed that her washing line was once again filled with my flapping nappies and rubber pants; she thought she was over all that, but as the alternative was fluttering bed sheets and jammies, she let it go.

My night time toilet arrangements became quite a topic of conversation between mum and the neighbours who commiserated with her on my immature return to nappies. As far as I knew, and certainly mum never led me to believe otherwise, I was the only six year-old on the estate still needing night time protection.
Mum made sure if I was staying up to watch TV or we were doing something else, she always wanted to make sure I was in my protection well before bedtime. She dreaded that I might nod off when not in protection and shame myself by leaving a pool of pee that someone else might notice. I couldn’t understand this as I never arrived home from school in wet pants so why she thought I couldn’t be trusted I wasn’t so sure. Although I suspected it was just the normal amount of gossiping and conclusions drawn that went on between ‘concerned’ neighbours.
If mum or dad were going to be busy, on more than one occasion I’d arrive home from school or from playing out and I’d be taken upstairs and made ready for an early night. So, quite often I’d be in my nappy for ages before actual bedtime. So seeing me totter around the house wearing just a t-shirt and nappy was not unusual. I’d try and disguise my padding by choosing a brightly coloured t-shirt, which to me at least, drew attention away from the bulky material between my legs.
However, the urge to fill it then was strong, but I was sure that if they knew I could’ve made it to the bathroom and yet didn’t, then I would be in a great deal of trouble. If they thought it was accidental, and I did it in my sleep, that was acceptable.

Sometimes I’d have an early night just so I could pee in my nappy as soon as I got into bed. The feeling was wonderful and I’d often fall asleep almost immediately after the event. Mum once or twice checked me when she came to bed and, finding me wet would change me into a clean and dry one only for that to be soaked by morning.
There was no doubt I was peeing in my nappy more and more and both Leo and Gary started to complain about the overpowering odour of these ‘mishaps’. As I didn’t seem to be in the process of stopping (and there was nowhere else for me to sleep) her solution was thicker nappies, thicker soak pads and very robust rubber pants. Mum claimed that nothing would get out of this fortified prison and all my changes were to be performed in the bathroom from then on. It was far more cramped and uncomfortable but I couldn’t complain (although I did a little bit).
Mum was giving me more and more responsibility for my own changes. I was left to put it on myself, after suitable instruction and supervision from her, and I got quite adept at pinning myself into multiple folds of soft white (now slightly yellowing) fabric.
The doctor I went to see told dad there was nothing wrong with me and after giving him the third degree about how I was punished, and satisfying himself I wasn’t being abused, said that I’d probably grow out of it pretty soon.

Dad was annoyed that the doctor assumed it was his fault I wet and as a result, I was constantly under dad’s scrutiny and encouraged to improve my night time toilet habits. I did try. I hated that dad was so upset with the disgusting insinuation he was abusing me, so I did get dry for a week or so. Eventually, the strain of staying dry gave way to the pleasure of being wet so nothing changed. Although the outcome of all this was, because of his inquisition dad refused to let me see a doctor again regarding my nightly ‘accidents’.
Even when I reached my seventh, eighth and ninth birthdays I was still wearing my night time armour (as I’d jokingly come to call it) but that changed when dad got promoted and transferred to a different town. A change of house, school and friends suddenly had me more interested in that than my wet habits and miraculously (as mum and dad called it) I suddenly found I was dry and the toilet was not an alien place for me to visit at night. Pretty soon, after almost three years I was back to proper nightwear and a dry bed.
From then on I hardly ever thought about my ‘golden flow’ and certainly didn’t miss the thick nappy.

#

Here I’m going to do a potted history of my life then until now, simply because what happened during these years from when I stopped has no bearing on what I want to tell you about (well I don’t think so).

I had been working since I left school at eighteen though I never went to college, but found myself at a new firm that had ambition and a workforce that functioned very well together. I was one of their go-getters and the firm was in the right place at the right time for the technical facilities it offered. It was a great place to be and we all did fairly well sharing in the company’s successes.
At twenty-one I inherited money that my grandparents had put in trust for me. It was quite a considerable amount and enabled me to put the deposit down on a place of my own.
By twenty-four I was married to a nice girl but my sex drive, which had never been prolific, eventually drove her into the arms of another man (a workmate) and I was divorced by the time I reached twenty-seven.

During in all that time, I never thought about nappies or wetting and those two thoughts have only just recently surfaced, and that has taken me to a place I wished I’d found earlier.
Let me explain.

#

It’s several months since my divorce and I now live alone. Recently I was taking a shower – don’t get me wrong, I’d taken many showers since the decree absolute, it was just this one was sort of a turning point.

It was early morning and as I let the warm jets pulsate against my head and back I let my night time bladder build-up go in the cubicle. Now I’m sure I’d done this more times than I remembered but on this occasion something actually happened.
As the stream of bright yellow pee joined the river of warm water I watched in wonder and my mind was immediately transferred back to the moment when I was six and peed in the bath for the very first time. Then it was pale yellow and in volume hardly much at all but now I witnessed a yellow torrent mixing and mingling with a clear water flow and disappear in a swirl down the plughole.
It was magical.

It brought back that instant over twenty years earlier, when a shiver of excitement, wonder and sheer pleasure led to that most joyful of discoveries – peeing was fun… and not only in the bath.
I’d been in a little bit of self despair because I felt useless and it wasn’t just because of the break up. The divorce hadn’t hit me hard because I more or less knew it was coming from the moment I married Penny. We were more friends than lovers and we’d let ourselves fall into the trap that friends could be lovers. Alas, after just a few short, frustrated years (for Penny) it was over.
Since then my self-imposed depression meant I wasn’t the bundle of fun I used to be and quite a few of my ‘friends’ took the opportunity to let our friendship slide. I can’t blame them I wasn’t much company but it was all a mask for something… though at the time I hadn’t realised what that might be. However, a stream of pee and a delightful memory had had the most amazing effect and I bounced into work a new man.

For the first time in absolutely ages I felt happy. There was energy to my attitude and a zing in my step. I was, to put it mildly, amazingly focused on ME. Not in a depressed state of mind, not self-destructive, not in a negative way at all. In fact, I was all the things I used to be before I got tangled up in growing up. It was surprising how liberated I felt. I could do my job, I could function around others, and the divorce I realised meant a great weight of a lifetime of responsibility had been lifted from my shoulders. THANK YOU GOD… or whoever is in charge of such things.
Now, as I live on my own, I saw no reason not to indulge once again in a physical reminisce and went out to purchase a bag of Abena Abri-Form M4 disposables and a couple of pairs of thick shiny plastic pants (they were in packs of two).
This was an incredible, life-changing decision.

From now on, when not at work (and occasionally when I was, though not as thickly) nappies, disposables and plastic pants would be my underwear of choice. I have once again begun to appreciate that soft rustling sound of a slick pair of vinyl pants, the bulk between my legs, the smooth rounded front to my genital area and wondered why had I let these feelings go?
Powder, lotion and a return of baby pins that help make my fabric nappies fit tightly and look so special was like finding old and much missed friends.
Now I was older peeing in the bath had more force. I watched the few suds being swept into the current and being destroyed, much to my juvenile enjoyment. I began to drink more liquid in the hope that my bloated bladder made the length of pee last much longer. I now try to hold off from going to the toilet wanting to keep it for my bath time ritual… or later. When bed time comes I just let nature take its course and I find filling my disposable immensely satisfying.

I don’t want my complete childhood back but there are things I do that make me giggle like the little kid I once was. The little kid who peed in the bath and enjoyed the sensation of letting go… and letting it flow… a newly warm wet nappy is a thing of immense pleasure.

This story is written by Les Lea

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

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He Who Gets Hosed, Grows!

He Who Gets Hosed, Grows!Squeakybunny is extra squeaky now. Someone had stuck a hose in his rubber pants and fully opened the valve. First he meeps, then he leaks. His clothes are in pieces and if those rubber pants keep inflating for much longer . . .

The bunny and text belongs to Squeakybunny

Draw by catmonkshiro

Source: http://www.furaffinity.net/view/27499888/

Yes i sure wounder how match air this rubber pants can handle before its go BOOM.

But the cloth diaper sure look pretty cute on him :)

(Visited 8 times, 1 visits today)

Stuck

StuckSome extra-tough extra-secure locking plastic pants

for extra-naughty babs

Draw and everything by ludisluteo

Source: https://inkbunny.net/s/1630972

Awww poor cubs he sure trying weary hard and desperate to be a big boy and dont use his diaper. But his tummy and this special locking plastic pants sure dont going to give him any choice then to use the diaper like a helpless little cub.

(Visited 38 times, 3 visits today)

Latex Rubber Adult Diaper Covers Overview

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Overview of latex rubber adult diaper covers.

These diaper covers are used for adults with incontinence.

Ebay link for these here: http://www.ebay.com/usr/myinnerbaby?_trksid=p2047675.l2559

The review is created by diaperman89

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Locked in a Rubber Pants 1 and 2

Locked in a Rubber Pants 1
I got a brand new type of diaper that is supposedly made up of an unbreakable and uncuttable rubber. I decided to put it on and add a padlock to it. I locked it tight around my waist. Now it should be impossible to escape from without the key. To stop me from unlocking myself too early, I swallowed the key. Now all I have to do is wait ’till I get it back, but I forgot one thing…

Source: http://www.furaffinity.net/view/13882442/

Draw, text and Pikachu: Poke-anima

Awww wounder what he is going to do now when the key for the lock to the rubber pants is inside him now and we know what is going to be lather. Yes it is going to end up inside the locking pants. But how is he going to get it out?

Locked in a Rubber Pants 2After four days of being stuck in my diaper, it started to get soaked and very messy. The lock held tight, and the smell was starting to really get to me. Plugging my nose didn’t help either. They were right when they said the diaper was indestructible. As far as the key goes, I have it, just not in the place I want it…

Source: http://www.furaffinity.net/view/13882747/

Draw, text and Pikachu: Poke-anima

Yes i agree this diaper most smell weary badly now when it have been on for 4 days now. Wounder how he is going to unlock this locking rubber pants now when the key is inside his weary messy diaper?

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