Wet bed

Billy’s Fault Part 2

This story is written by Les Lea

One thing Liz wasn’t aware – Billy’s sodden nappy was not only down to her sabotage. He had, quite unknowingly, wet himself during the night and, had she checked him first before doing her ‘squeezy’ thing, would have noticed he was more than a little damp already. With the amount of liquid his make-do nappy then had to soak up it was no surprise it leaked all over the place.

He’d woken up to a wet bed, a saturated towel-cum-nappy and an itchy crotch. He was angry with himself because he just couldn’t understand why he was doing such a thing.

He was uncomfortable, irritable and embarrassed and reached down to feel the dirty, saggy towel between his legs with a great deal of disgust.

He blamed his mum, Lizzie and somehow even Dee-Dee for his current predicament and hated the lot of them for making him dress so, so, so…

The problem was he irritated with himself because he’d wet yet again and couldn’t deny what happened, therefore, couldn’t really complain about the consequences of his ‘actions’. He knew it wasn’t his fault because he didn’t know he was doing it. Other than that could offer no explanation or come up with a better course of measures than a nappy to prevent worse after-effects… a wet bed was very unpleasant.

His anger was more out of frustration than directed at anyone in particular, except, well, it was easier to blame everyone other than himself.

Despite the fact that his make-do nappy had, to some degree, prevented a worse soaked bed he wanted rid of the soggy mass as soon as possible. However, his mother insisted she didn’t have time and he should get down to breakfast where he’d be sorted out after they’d all eaten.

She watched him get up and sigh at the obviously sopping nappy that hung down between his legs.

The bedding was a mess, all damp and creased, whilst an air of urine was beginning to make the room smell less than pleasant.

He fought to pull up his jammy bottoms which helped a little but didn’t hide the evidence of a very wet boy.

Under his mother’s watchful eye, he slowly made his way down to the kitchen feeling every soggy step, the rough fabric irritating his thighs with even the slightest movement. His mother, gathering up the dirty bedding, was more than a little annoyed that he’d wet again and knew something had better be done soon.

She wasn’t happy with her son and he wasn’t happy about his nappy… there was bitterness and resentment building on both sides.

His favourite morning cereal wasn’t improving the difficult situation he was now in and wished he was allowed to change himself but mum insisted it had to be supervised by Lizzie, and that really irked him.

He was very upset about everything and banged and crashed his bowl, spoon and cup around as he sulkily ate breakfast. The mess and noise he created just added to Lizzie’s firm belief that he should be wearing a nappy permanently… so that’s how he should be treated.

This attitude didn’t help the situation; he looked like a petulant little baby sat in a soggy nappy.

#

Once breakfast was finished Lizzie took Dee-Dee off to be changed. She told a protesting Billy to wait his turn and stop bellyaching, she’d soon be back. He had no option but to do as he was told and sat fidgeting in his scratchy towel, while he desperately needed a pee.

Although there were some protests from the baby of the family, Liz stripped Dee-Dee out of her wet stuff, cleaned her up, spread the anti-rash lotion and had her powdered very quickly. The youngest had been surprised at waking up wet and although she didn’t like all the fuss, at least the protection had worked.

However, much to Dee-Dee’s disgust and resentment, her pleas for normal knickers were ignored as Lizzie re-pinned her into a clean nappy and fed those old, but useful, plastic pants up to enclose the thick material.

Her older sister took a firm hand and used guilt to make her comply with what she was doing.

“Look, you’ve wet and I have no intention of cleaning you up again should you have another accident. So, this will act as a reminder and a safeguard… just in case…”

She left the thought hanging in the air.

Dee-Dee’s protests were in vain as Liz pointed out that she had a choice, either she put up with it under her dress, or walk around wearing only a nappy for the rest of the day. And, as Lizzie planned on going into town shopping, she’d have to toddle around as she was and everyone would see her protection. It was her choice.

Dee-Dee’s mood changed a little when Liz also pointed out that her brother would be given the same choice so she wouldn’t be the only one wearing such an item.

Six year old she may have been but every bit as bright as her older sister so knew that it would come down to the lesser of two evils. Reluctantly, she agreed with everything her big sister suggested. The girls then spent what seemed to Billy waiting downstairs, an eternity choosing just what else to wear.

Dee-Dee was looking for something to cover the entire thing but Lizzie, after letting her search around for some time, eventually pulled a short summer skirt from her wardrobe. She knew exactly how she wanted her ‘baby’ sister to look… and the nappy and plastic pants would be taking centre stage.

“You’ll look lovely in this.”

Lizzie was enthusiastic about what she’d found.

“But, but, it won’t cover anything… I … I…ummm.”

She must have known her protest would be in vain as Lizzie was already pulling the skirt up and over her protection. Part of the shiny plastic bulk could just be seen hanging below the hemline, which was precisely how Lizzie had planned it… cute and very juvenile.

Nevertheless, and this was what made it reasonably okay for Dee-Dee to wear what had been designated, Lizzie convinced her that when she stood up it was barely visible. The thick rough material also gave the youngster a strange feeling between her legs, whilst the rubbing of the plastic on her thighs sort of tickled a bit. It was more unwieldy than her knickers but not totally unpleasant and after a few minutes getting used to her new underwear, Dee-Dee forgot all about it.

Lizzie liked the look and wished she could get Billy into something similar. That sneaky peek of plastic pant was very babyish and her mind lit up with possibilities of them both sucking on baby’s bottles and dummies. To her, plastic pants and nappies always visible would keep them both in check and at the same time look completely adorable.

With her two young siblings already looking alike, to her at least it would be wonderful to have them dressed alike. She had a vision of them together playing in their nappies; Billy slightly taller of the two but still enthralled with a childish game his smaller but more confident sister had devised. Setting off the scene to perfection would be the rustle of their glossy plastic pants adding a shiny, cheerful but babyish note to their pleasure.

#

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, in his desperation to pee, Billy came up with the obvious solution, he’d simply soak his towel that bit more and no one would be any the wiser.

Even though his jammy bottoms were already soaked he slipped them off and stood wearing just his flooded protection. The rough material was looking decidedly discoloured and beginning to smell but in Billy’s mind he was just using it as a mop-up cloth, which was what it had been used for in the past.

Unfortunately for him, he took the wrong moment to fulfil his biological need so, as he filled his waterlogged nappy to saturation point, the fabric leaked out onto the tiled floor.

There was a slight stinging as he peed but, in truth, it was remarkable just how easy it was to go into his towel and feel such relief.

Standing in the doorway to observe the incident were his sisters who he had not heard returning to the kitchen.

Such an opportune moment was quickly seized on by Lizzie who loudly proclaimed it was a deliberate act of wetting. Conspiring with her witness Dee-Dee, they berated their brother for being nothing more than “a thoughtless little boy”, a “nappy wetter” and when he teared up, nothing but a “big cry baby”.

A red flush covered his body but the pee just kept flowing and dribbling down his leg to pool on the tiles. He couldn’t stop. Even with his sister’s watching and their mocking, his burning bladder just kept the stream coming as his body slumped in humiliation and tears fell.

In his shame and anger he swore and cursed them but it didn’t help… he was guilty of this terrible act.

Perhaps they were right; maybe he was nothing more than a pissy little baby who had no control.

When he finished the look on Lizzie’s face told him he was in deep trouble. He had no defence, they’d witnessed what he’d done and he knew he was for the high jump. Lizzie grabbed his hand and dragged him upstairs and into the bathroom.

Billy stumbled and quickly grabbed the heavy wet nappy as it slipped down his thighs. To be seen naked was the worst so pulled up the thick and sopping item to preserve his modesty.

He didn’t know it but modesty was soon to be a thing of the past.

Angrily (although really pleased at the wonderful turn of events) she pulled off his soaked make-do nappy and told him emphatically that from now on, as he acted like a little baby, deliberately peeing his pants, then that’s how she intended treating him.

A sorrowful “Nooo” and an “It’s not my fault” didn’t help as he tried desperately to stop Lizzie seeing him naked.

“You purposely kept me fucking waiting… you wanted me to fucking wet my…”

A stream of expletives and angry accusation followed which Lizzie stood and took. She didn’t mind, she’d use it against him later if need be. She knew their mother hated swearing and would take the paddle to his bare bottom if/when she found out.

He carried on swearing at his older sister, blaming her for his soggy hanging shame. However, he’d been warned many times by his mother that he should not swear, and certainly never in the house.

Lizzie just batted his flailing hands away and let him carry on being his usual self-obsessed centre of attention but taking no notice of his protests.

This was typical him… you try to help but he just ends up being difficult.

Lizzie let him struggle for a while, part of her wishing he was a girl and then they wouldn’t be having all these problems that raucous boys seemed to carry around with them. She thought all boys Billy’s age were the same annoying little sods.

However, now she had him in a nappy, and to a certain extent Dee-Dee as well, she was quite content… her plan was moving on nicely.

#

Her heart had beat faster when she’d come up with this novel idea, it had gone into overdrive when she’d collected the stuff from the attic. The simple act of handling the old fabric nappy squares and plastic pants had sent more than a shiver through her core.

The urge to have them both dressed as babies became more and more powerful the more she caressed those small soft items of childhood. She was only fourteen but there was something that just clicked as she held up one of Dee-Dee’s sweet little baby onesies. Her body flushed with excitement as her mind raced at the thought of what she planned to do with her siblings.

As she’d sorted through the old baby clothes, toys and other stuff all she could imagine was them both having to surrender to her instructions. She was growing up fast and all manner of hormones and inspiration were careering through her system. She would be ‘mummy’ and have a couple of real babies to play with, to dress, feed and clean.

However, to begin with she hadn’t thought about the work her plan would involve; the constant changing and washing. For her to see them both contained in such a juvenile way, and the way such padding reduced the wearer immediately to a toddling tot, was as far as her vision stretched.

With Billy now struggling in her hands as she changed his soaked nappy she grinned knowing that her plan was already working so well. The wet towel was not very nice to have to wear, and this is what made it so much fun, her brother hated it.

When a knowing and cunning look appeared on Lizzie’s face he knew he’d overstepped the mark.

A sudden gulp of resentment and fear stuck in his throat and he lost the ability to explain or defend himself.

Billy was so embarrassed and guilty about what he’d just done, and had been witnessed by both his sisters; all he could do was blub as Lizzie furiously set about getting him cleaned up.

She could have left him in his present state but was playing the long game so decided that for the moment, a little ‘understanding’ might be more appreciated.

He cried but knew he’d been caught red-handed (or wet-nappied), and had been foul-mouthed, so couldn’t pretend his innocence.

#

Lizzie was thorough in her ministrations but kept tut-tutting and shaking her head as if she found the situation quite unbelievable.

Billy tried to pretend it wasn’t happening by squeezing his eyes tight shut whilst she wiped his genitals. Alas for Billy, his culpability made him less rebellious than he would normally have been so the process became a lot less fraught.

She noticed that his groin was very red and explained that all the wetting had given him a nappy rash, which set him off wailing all over again.

“Mum said this might happen and I’d have to cover the area with this.”

She held up the white ointment that had already been applied to Dee-Dee but, knowing Billy’s embarrassment was only just beginning, took even greater delight in the application process.

To have his sister, who was only three years older than him, rubbing in the cream with such vigour was more than a little disconcerting but couldn’t object because he felt so guilty.

There was no denying that he’d been itching since he’d woken up and wondered why it felt so uncomfortable sitting at breakfast. Now he knew, he had to suffer the ignominy as she smeared on the antiseptic balm like he was a baby.

However, he hadn’t realised just how ‘personal’ that treatment would be when she heavily coated it around his genitals and then made him turn over so she could cover his tender red bottom.

His rash actually needed the attention Lizzie was giving it but she was really pleased at the way he wriggled awkwardly as her fingers massaged the greasy stuff into his boy parts.
Billy wanted to be indignant about the procedure. He wanted to tell her again to ‘FUCK OFF’ and use a stream of hurtful invective at her but at that moment thought it better to remain tight-lipped.

He didn’t even know there was such a cream in the house, or what the rash was, so would never have thought to use it.

He hated being treated like a toddler but really would have no idea how to have gone about it on his own.

Reluctantly, he had to concede that on this point, his sister knew best.

Whilst in that position, and showering his upturned inflamed bum cheeks with powder, she mentioned that if it was up to her his bottom would be red from a damn good paddling (mum had delivered them in the past). As far as Lizzie was concerned… he was a very naughty, foul-mouthed and inconsiderate little boy, purposely wetting himself for some dubious ‘attention seeking’ reason.

Lizzie knew that by intentionally making Billy believe he was solely culpable for what was happening, he was in no position to object to her plans and, a little fear made him far more acquiescent.

She said she was surprised that mum hadn’t spanked her two naughty ‘babies’ for giving her even more to worry about and that both he and Dee-Dee should think about their over-worked mother more.

She laid it on thick how she thought they were doing it on purpose just to annoy mum and give her even more stress.

She laid the blame squarely at her thoughtless brother for being the main culprit, accusing him of actually enjoying wetting his bed as she’d just seen him deliberately wet his nappy. Billy had no defence so Lizzie was able to make him feel more guilt-ridden, whilst actually enjoying the fact he had no idea what was going on.

However, she had no idea what was really going on in Billy’s bladder.

#

Billy knew she wasn’t joking and was relieved that he managed to turn back without her carrying out her threat to spank him. His relief didn’t last long as she soon pushed the other thick, adapted old terry towel under his bottom and began to fasten it in place. She deliberately made it double thickness so its huge, cushiony size would prevent Billy from finding any clothes to fit over it.

His screams of indignation could have been heard across the street but he had no defence from the strength of his sister as she attempted to pin him in. He tried to pull it off but he got a smack for his pains together with a very severe warning if he continued to mess about worse would follow.

She was adamant, for his own protection he was going to be wearing a nappy whether he liked it or not. Lizzie was happy to list the number of times he wet and that she wasn’t taking any chances on her ‘pissy little brother’ leaving a trail of pee wherever he went.

So… he had a choice; either stop fighting and wear it, or fight, get a spanking and still have to wear it?

He fought as best he could but there was a slight problem, she was far too strong and had become adept at holding him immobile whilst she did what she wanted. In the past that had ranged from tickling, through to just beating him up. She was very strong and knew that he’d have to obey or be hurt.

Eventually, both the over-powering sense of guilt and the inevitable fight drained from him. He realised the futility and she took the opportunity to continue his change into the huge, dry, modified towel.

“Don’t you dare take it off,” Lizzie screamed at him as she pulled the thick towel up between his legs. “I’ve just watched you piss yourself on purpose and if you think I have nothing better to do than run around changing and washing stuff after you mess up, you’re sadly mistaken.”

To emphasise her point she indicated, with a slight tap to his head, the washing line outside that held the billowing results from two days of wet bedding.

In Lizzie’s mind this was evidence to anyone with eyes to see that she was looking after her baby brother and sister. If she planned it right, the sheets wouldn’t need so much attention as they’d be both wearing nappies on a night and then, she got excited at the thought, it would be just a row of fluttering nappies proclaiming the return of babies back at the Southall residence.

Why this pleased her so much she wasn’t sure… it just did and even the thought of changing wet nappy after wet nappy didn’t appear to deter her from her aim… it was a price worth paying… well for now at least.

The warning smack to the back of his head had surprised but not hurt him, although it made him realise defying her was a stupid move. She was at her most determined so any protest would have been useless. So, as the final large pin held him tightly in his make-do nappy he had nowhere to go for support or anyone to defend his position.

Also, she had indeed just watched him fill his already bloated protection so couldn’t argue that point, even if the reason was because she’d taken so long with Dee-Dee. However, her final threat was what made him simmer down as best he could.

“If you carry on like this I’ll make you wear a nappy when your friends come over.”

The look she gave him made him believe she wasn’t kidding.

#

He didn’t know it but two of his friends themselves were wearing protection having shit the bed on a couple of occasions; their parents taking the necessary precautions to prevent further mess and stinky pants. The two boys, Dave and Mitch, like Billy, had put up a fight but faced with the alternative (shitty pants) had grudgingly acquiesced to their parent’s solution. They, like him, had not linked their canal dip with their problem, but in both cases a thick nappy had been the temporary solution.

Meanwhile, his other friend Aaron who had wet himself during the night had been able to hide the evidence from his parents so, for the moment at least, was wearing normal underwear. Although he wasn’t feeling too well, his dick burned when he peed, he tried to maintain his usual adventurous spirit and had gone off with his father walking in the hills. It was a day that wouldn’t end well for him.

Billy continued to squirm uneasily in the thick homemade defence but wasn’t trying to remove it merely get comfortable. The cream his sister had spread over his rash had an immediate affect so wasn’t itching as much. So there was an air of inevitability to the procedure as he meekly let his sister finish getting him ready.

Leading him by the hand as he waddled to his bedroom they went through the dresser and wardrobe trying to find something for him to wear that covered his protection but, as Lizzie knew only too well, it was far too thick for any of his clothes to fit. However, as she’d told Dee-Dee, they were going shopping in town so he had to find something as she wasn’t going to leave him home alone.

Again he started to whine and complain but she simply told him to find something otherwise she’d dress him in some of her old clothes, which she held out for inspection. She really wished she could get him into a skirt like Dee-Dee was wearing but knew that was probably not something he’d do willingly. The flowery skirt and lacy top she held out doubling Billy’s efforts.

#

A few years earlier Billy had been forced into wearing some of Lizzie’s clothes when she and a group of her friends decided he was to be their dress-up doll for a game they were playing. Poor six year-old Billy didn’t get a chance to complain as grabbing prepubescent girly hands ambushed and easily pulled off his clothes. Distressed and crying for help he had little resistance as he was introduced to the realm of girly dresses and make-up.

His juvenile embarrassment only came to an end only when his father arrived home, saw his painted face and told him to get cleaned up. Lizzie received no reprimand from either parent and even at that young age Billy was fostering a great deal of resentment. He was always punished if he did anything wrong and was upset at the injustice when his older sister wasn’t. Lizzie was the apple of her daddy’s eye, very like him in so many ways, and nothing a young shy boy searching for love and acceptance in the family could ever usurp.

No mention was made to the fact he was wearing his sisters clothes, right down to her panties, or that he’d protested against being involved or that they’d bullied him into wearing it all. He was a boy and hadn’t wanted anything to do with their little game but it looked like he was the one held responsible even though he was only six at the time. Even with his father around it appeared the girls could do no wrong. For young Billy, life was unfair.

Once Dee-Dee was a little older, she became the dress-up doll for their games. However, he never forgave his parents because they hadn’t punished Lizzie believing her side of the story that he’d asked to play with them and, much to his irritation, her friends supported that story. What was worse, they still mentioned the incident whenever they visited.

It was in that one act of humiliation that young Billy had decided to rail against the rest of the family. He couldn’t change them but he would make sure they knew of his existence. He argued, got into trouble, fought for his place against the rest of the world as much as a young boy could. However, Lizzie, through sheer oppression, kept her little brother firmly at the bottom of the family pecking order.

#

Despite his protests Lizzie was adamant that she wasn’t going to leave him at home and that he had to go with them for some urgent shopping. She made him feel responsible by insisting it was because he was pissing the bed that they had to shop in the first place. She was fed up with his stalling so simply gave him one last warning and if he didn’t comply she’d “spank him raw put him in a dress and drag him kicking and screaming around town”.

Wearing only a t-shirt and his make-do nappy Billy was panicking as he searched in vain for something, anything to wear. He knew Lizzie wasn’t joking and he’d die a thousand times of humiliation if he was seen by any of his friends wearing girl’s clothes.

In the end, all he could find were a pair of thin but baggy white polyester shorts he wore to play footie in. If he pulled them up then the hem of his towel could be seen drooping down his leg hole, and if he pulled them a little way down, the thick, pinned waistband was clearly visible. In the end he settled on a jumper to cover the top part and hoped that his protection wouldn’t be too obvious under his shorts.

Under Lizzie’s careful instructions Dee-Dee promised that his ample and very evident protective cushion wasn’t really all that noticeable. Lizzie had gleefully pointed out to her little sister that no one would notice her protection, which was just visible below her skirt, as they would all be looking at Billy. She’d been able to convince her that the protection was necessary… just to be safe, a line she used over and over again. All she had to do was pretend it hardly showed under his shorts and convince him that no one would be any the wiser.

Lizzie was pleased with herself at having both of them wearing nappies to go into town… although she wished that Billy’s was more obvious. She didn’t have to worry.

Once on the bus and well on their way to town it became evident to Billy that everyone knew he was wearing a nappy because that was all he could feel as he wriggled about in his seat. At one point the white terry material poked down both leg holes at the same time and he only noticed that fact when a small boy pointed it out to his mother.

The young boy had apparently just been potty trained as he said rather loudly that he was a big boy now and didn’t need his ‘bah-bahs’ anymore. Giggling and pointing at the offending item it became plain just what his ‘bah-bahs’ were and all eyes looked towards Billy who tried to shrink away as he pulled at his pathetically useless shorts.

The entire bus seemed to be smiling at his distress as he writhed in disgrace.

Lizzie whispered to her reddening brother. “Don’t worry we’ll get you something to hide all that when we get to the shops.”

Dee-Dee was making funny faces back at the outspoken toddler, who was happily giggling at her facial expressions. Meanwhile, his mother seemed embarrassed by her son’s loud declaration and was pointedly looking out of the window trying to avoid making eye contact with any of them. Despite that she had a slight smile in the corners of her mouth at a boy his age unmistakeably still wearing such a huge nappy.

Lizzie also had a smile, and though she was attempting to put Billy at ease with his predicament, she was actually very pleased the young boy had noticed. She knew her brother well enough to identify how mortified he’d be feeling right at that moment and couldn’t wait to increase that shame.

#

Leaving the bus, Billy reluctantly followed his two sisters around. He’d noticed that Dee-Dee was also wearing her protection and wondered why she was wearing such a short skirt that revealed quite a bit of it. However, he then realised Lizzie had supervised her outfit like she’d done his so perhaps, like him, had no say in it. They’d both wet so this was Lizzie’s solution. He grumpily thought about the options he was given; either the pair of revealing shorts he was wearing, or some of Lizzie’s old clothes. He was certain he’d made the right choice.

Once in the main shopping area it was busy enough for him not to worry too much about anyone noticing his thick padding but he was still on the lookout in case any of his school mates were around. So intent on spying for his friends he simply followed his sisters into a shop. Relieved to be away from the crowds he realised too late he was in the disposable and accessories aisle in one of the big pharmacies.

A shiver ran down his spine when he understood they were there to buy more ‘baby’ items. He’d hoped that his and Dee-Dee’s accidents would be regarded as only temporary and they weren’t in need of extra supplies.

He didn’t know about the good job Lizzie had done convincing their mother it was better to be safe than sorry. When the enormity of the situation dawned on him he was in for another surprise, a spurt of pee was just the herald for an absolute flood that suddenly filled his customized terry towel.

There had been a brief stabbing pain just before he spurted into his nappy, which shocked him.

He didn’t say or do anything as that jolt took control of his body. He didn’t hear a nearby lady asking if he was okay, or the fact that his white shorts now had a yellowing patch down the front.

He just stood completely transfixed as he emptied his aching bladder without effort or advanced notice. It was as if his body had gone into automatic and he had no control.

It was only the sudden thud to his chest that drew him out of his mesmerised state. Unaware of what was happening Lizzie had chucked a huge package of disposables for him to hold but he’d been so out of it he hadn’t noticed what she was doing. Lizzie, being ill-tempered at the best of times, simply forced the colourful bag into his hands and told him they were now his responsibility. It was only then that she noticed the tut-tutting of the lady and saw her eyes looking at the growing damp patch.

“Oh Billy, not again.”

She couldn’t believe what her brother was doing and surprised at his complete lack of understanding about the event. It was only a few seconds later it seemed to register on his face and the look of pain, embarrassment and fear gripped his features. He started to snivel.

With an audience looking on Lizzie went into ‘Nice Lizzie’ mode and was immediately attentive to her little brother.

“Don’t worry little fella.” She said as if talking to a toddler. “I’ll have you cleaned up and changed in seconds.” She was playing to the few people watching on. “Let’s find a place to get you sorted.”

Dee-Dee stared in wonder as to what was happening but couldn’t help herself from patting her brother’s padded bottom and letting him know just how wet everything was looking back there.

She’d gotten used to her own slippery protection and had been glad the night before for her plastic pants when she woke up soaked again but her bed was dry.

She was really grateful they had prevented damp sheets, even if she hadn’t understood why she’d wet in the first place. However, the plastic pants had stopped her soaking everything else, so had been a good addition to her present wetting difficulty. They would have certainly helped Billy had he been wearing any.

Lizzie just couldn’t believe Billy had publically wet himself. Apart from that first time a few nights ago when he’d wet the bed himself, she thought she’d been responsible for all his other little accidents but this… well this was nothing to do with her.

#

She left Dee-Dee and Billy sitting on a chair whilst she very quickly finished her shopping and then, armed with all her purchases, asked the sales assistant where the nearest changing facilities were. Luckily they weren’t very far away so she gathered them and everything up and made her way to the baby changing area.

By this time Billy was feeling guilty, stupid and utterly humiliated by the entire event. His nappy had swollen and filled out his shorts, which were also very wet and discoloured. All three clambered into the changing room and locked the door.

The look Lizzie gave Billy made him feel like an absolute baby. Without using any baby words she still managed, by her mocking tone alone, to make him feel nothing more than a toddler.

Luckily she had bought enough items now to at least make sure he was cleaned up and put into something dry.

“You see,” she pointed out, “you didn’t want to wear a nappy and now look… “

She left the insinuation in the air.

Billy was on the verge of both another outburst and bursting into even more tears. He wanted to argue and put up a fight but the incident had knocked most of the stuffing out of him and he didn’t have the willpower.

Lizzie made him lie out on the changing table, which even though wasn’t designed for someone Billy’s size seemed to fit. She pulled away the sodden shorts and discoloured towel and checked the redness that now surrounded that area. She could instantly tell that he would be getting an even more severe rash if further precautions weren’t taken.

With a whole bunch of wet-wipes she cleaned him up and applied copious amounts of anti-rash cream plus loads of talcum powder. She pulled out a couple of soaker pads and inserted them into a freshly unfolded colourful disposable.

“I’m not wearing that.” He protested.

“And I’m not having you piss all over the shop, the bus or me… so yes… you bloody well are.”

He wriggled trying to get away but Lizzie gave him a very powerful slap to his naked thigh and he immediately stopped, finding tears more of a diversion than the fact she was taping him into a very thick disposable. His eyes were bleary from weeping so didn’t notice that she also started to role a pair of thick white plastic pants over it all.

“I don’t want to… I don’t wanna… wear … bbbaby pantsss…” Billy struggled with his emotions and inability to do anything about it once Lizzie was in one of her moods.

“Maybe not, but we don’t want you leaking all over everyone… and besides…” Lizzie mocked, “you’ll want something to hide your nappy.”

With a final yank they were over the bulge and an unhappy Billy sat sobbing. The colourful pattern of the disposable could faintly be made out behind the gloss of his new semi-transparent vinyl pants.

“How about you Dee-Dee, do you need a change?” Lizzie asked.

Looking at how big her brother’s protection now was… she shook her head.

“Okay, let’s go.”

“But what about sssome pants?” Billy stammered through his tears.

“We don’t have any and you can’t wear the ones you came in as they’re wet and stained.” She shook her head at him. “You’ll just have to make do.”

“But, but…” Billy tried to object but it was no use. “Can’t we bbbuy something…?”

Lizzie sounded concerned and convincing when she said they had no money for anything else and that unfortunately there was no alternative so he’d just have to put up with it, at least the nappy was now hidden.

She pulled him to his feet and even Dee-Dee gulped at just how big his padding now appeared.

The white shiny plastic appeared to glow as it strained around the bulk. There was a loud rustling sound as he moved because he was having difficulty walking. He really was in a very awkward situation and Dee-Dee wriggled, thankful that her protection wasn’t nearly as obvious. She involuntarily reached beneath her dress, smoothed her own nappy down and sighed in relief.

Billy didn’t detect his little sister’s gasp of concern as he was being instructed by Lizzie that, as there was nothing they could do about it, and, so as not to draw attention to the problem, he should carry the large pack of disposables in front of him and they would walk behind. It wasn’t the best solution but it would give him some privacy.

Tears flooded down his cheeks as she opened the changing room door and led her charges out and back into the store. A couple of people who had heard him crying were looking on but once they saw he was physically alright they went about their business.

#

Lizzie gave him the biggest bag to carry so he could hold it in front of his huge puffy crotch, which was now encased in shiny white vinyl and reflecting the light. It became like a flashing beacon to everyone as he passed.

Lizzie was overjoyed at the spectacle of having both her charges wearing obvious plastic pants which barely disguised the nappy underneath. This was her plan and it had all come together at remarkable speed. Dee-Dee’s glossy baby pants would flash occasionally as she walked or gave a childish hop, whilst Billy, with a certain glistening rustle, strode disconsolately and awkwardly ahead of them both.

Sniggers and comments were hardly muted as Lizzie guided her grumpy brother and sister towards the bus stop.

“Can’t we get a taxi? Please let us get a taxi…” He pleaded with his big sister but she just shook her head and told him they weren’t made of money.

A miserable and nervous Billy was the centre of attention for everyone, not just those passengers on the bus. His shame was complete when, with still a couple of bus stops left before home, and after a brief but severe stabbing pain in his gut (more excitable microbes were now happily playing in his bowel), he filled his disposable with more than pee.

Elizabeth noticed his sudden change of attitude as he sat there with the huge package of disposables on his lap. His constant complaining stopped; his face went a bright red and his eyes misted over as silent tears ran down his cheeks. An unpleasant sneer, as if he’d witnessed some diabolical event, slid over his face before he cast his eyes down to the floor, ashamed of what he’d detected.

Thankfully for Billy, the huge protection he was wearing absorbed all he’d discharged and the plastic pants, tightly hugging everything together, prevented any embarrassing smell or leakage.

Lizzie didn’t know precisely what had happened but knew something had.

The way he was grasping the huge package of colourful disposables so tightly against his protection, meant something drastic and critical had taken place.

However, completely out of character, she sympathetically put her arm around her little brother.

It wasn’t that she particularly felt sorry for Billy, but instinctively knew that if she came across as caring, she’d be able to manipulate him a lot more easily when needed.

She squeezed her brother and whispered that he shouldn’t worry because accidents happen, they’d be home soon and she was there to help.

The walk from the bus stop back to the house was slow and disgusting for Billy as he tentatively waddled, aware of the lumpy wet stinking mess filling the rear of his protection. Although, he’d hated being made to wear all the thick padding, he was grateful that he’d not leaked in public. It wasn’t Lizzie’s fault he’d pissed and now crapped himself and for once she wasn’t ridiculing or shouting at him.

His misery compounded he really was reliant on Lizzie to help him through this. He had no idea why he now shit his pants but that stabbing pain must have been some indication that something was wrong. In spite of this he never thought about his swim in the canal and simply surmised it had probably been something he’d eaten.

It was as if, for the first time in his life, Lizzie actually understood he was in need of a few nice words to lift him from the pit of despair he was in. Despite himself, he was happy that his big sister was looking after him.

Dee-Dee slowly became aware of what her brother had done and cheekily slapped his bulging, squelchy bottom as a joke. Billy wasn’t in any mood for such ‘playful’ antics and complained bitterly to Lizzie that it wasn’t fair.

He was now sounding like a whiny little toddler and she couldn’t have been happier. She hugged him close and told him not to worry it would be fine; all the time thinking her plan couldn’t be going any better.

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 1

Chapter 3

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Billy’s Fault Part 1

This story is written by Les Lea

There were three things in life Billy Southall hated; his younger sister Dee-Dee, his older sister Elizabeth (Lizzie) and his mother, Sandra. His father, Eddie, was serving a ten year custodial sentence for ‘Criminal Fraud’ so eleven year-old Billy was left under the influence of the bossy and difficult female side of his family.

Even the baby of the family, six year-old Dee-Dee, seemed to have a demanding attitude like the rest of them. Billy was the one constantly blamed for any mishaps; the one who had to run errands, the one who was put upon most… when not at school he hardly had a moment to play with his mates.

No matter what he did, or where he went, there was always one of ‘them’ hanging around. If he wanted to go off with his friends, there was always one of his sisters who would insist (or be insisted upon by his mum) in tow. Trying to be a typical boy with his other eleven year-old mates was difficult if you had a six year-old sister dragging at your heels or an older, more demanding fourteen year-old sister insisting you play her version of a game. His schoolboy friends didn’t often come over to play as they hated all watered down games and the girly stuff they had to endure. It was difficult being a boy in the Southall family household.

As far as the female side of the family were concerned it would be a lot better if Billy was a girl and then they’d be no problems at all.
As far as Billy was concerned, girls ruined everything.

#

Billy was quite small for an eleven year-old. At four feet four inches he was the second smallest boy in class, but, as with all children, he didn’t let it worry him because everyone told him a growth spurt would be along any minute. At school he was a lively, if not particularly bright student but seemed to get on with most people his age.

The days when he was taunted or set upon because of his criminal father were few and far between. His floppy brown hair was no longer pulled or his brown eyes being occasionally blackened after a rumour circulated around school that the ‘criminal underworld’ had put a bounty on anyone giving little Billy grief.

His younger sister Dee-Dee was also small for her age. Her long brown hair and brown eyes made the two youngsters look remarkably alike, although both would object noisily when anyone made such an observation. Dee-Dee took after her sister in that she was always just slightly ahead of anyone else in class and enjoyed organising and regimenting her toys. She also thought all boys were ‘stoopid’ and her brother the ‘stoopidest’ of them all. They were always at each other’s throat but mum and Lizzie always took her side so, between the two, she always won any argument.

Billy hated it when his mother dressed him and Dee-Dee similarly. Not that Billy wore a skirt or anything it was just that at times they seemed to wear colour-coordinated outfits that Sandra liked. She thought it made them look like a family, whereas Billy thought it made him look like a girl. He hated it and rebelled as much as he could but really he had no weapons to fight back with apart from being disagreeable and, as they were all used to that now, had no defences at all. He may have screamed and fussed but in the end, a spanking would soon get him back in line and his mother wasn’t above using this action as the first line of battle rather than the last, “It saved time” she often used to say.

Elizabeth took after her father. She was tall, dark, had a very quick mind and at times could be quiet devious (it was her that set the rumour doing the rounds at school about the contract from the criminal underworld). She’d seen a problem, and without doing a great deal, had found a solution of sorts, the outcome being that her younger brother was rarely in fights anymore. She didn’t like the idea of him being picked on, that was her job. She was a great deal cleverer than her teachers thought but deliberately held back in lessons. She knew she was bright, yet for some reason known only to her, had no intention of showing that side of her character. At fourteen years old she was almost as tall as her mother and, as dad was no longer around, behaved as if she were her equal.

#

One morning, in fact the first day of the summer holidays, Billy woke up to find his pyjamas and bedding absolutely sodden. At first he thought there must have been a leak in the ceiling and then wondered if someone had spilt something but eventually it dawned on him that he’d had a rather wet accident. He didn’t know what to do. His mum would need to wash everything and he wasn’t bright enough to think that he could hide the fact and pretend nothing had happened. No, he would just tell her, apologise, look a bit dejected and hope that she wouldn’t shout or scream… or worse.

Since his father was jailed four years earlier he’d had no male influence in his home life. Not that Eddie was anything but ‘illusive’. He didn’t seem to notice how much his son hated being dominated at home. How much he felt inferior to his sisters or how little support he received from dad.

Eddie was just too easy going for his own good and that lethargy was what led to his eventual capture by the authorities. When he had been home he always took the ‘girls’ side in any argument, often with a small humorous aside to Billy that it was “…easier in the long run to simply agree”. That aside also carried with it a sort of “Get used to it” which Billy found infuriating but true.

Even the relations when they came to visit were mostly female (from his mother’s side) and Billy would end up besieged in his room by girly cousins and kissy aunts. Thankfully, he had mates at school so at least he had male company there, though they disappeared once the school day ended.

Unfortunately, Billy had chosen the wrong day to start wetting the bed as his mother was already fraught with what she was going to do with her kids now the school year had finished. Work had become intense and long hours were needed almost all the time. Because of this she was working all hours god sent to keep food on the table and a roof over their heads.
She had to come up with an answer as soon as possible.

#

Her solution was simply to put Lizzie in charge. She was already ruling the roost so it wasn’t a huge jump to let her take total responsibility for her younger siblings. Of course, Elizabeth being Elizabeth extricated an increase in her allowance for taking on such responsibility. There wasn’t a great deal of spare money about the house so everything was put on the ‘necessary’ and ‘within budget’ list should anything other than food be needed.

When Eddie had been around money seemed to be fairly plentiful. He earned a reasonable amount at his place of work so between them, the two adults were managing okay. However, now he was inside the breadwinner was Sandra and, as her job was becoming more and more demanding, so the kids were suffering as a result. No spare cash for treats or anything special and on top of that, they were seeing less and less of her as she had to work long hours to make ends meet.

Sandra had hated that the handsome man she loved had a criminal side and, as justice was served, he’d been locked away after a long court case. However, she decided the rest of the family would not benefit from, or suffer as a result, of his activities.

His criminality had been discovered just before the final part of his ingenious plan to de-fraud the large conglomerate he worked for was instigated. It would have netted a few million which stupidly he thought was worth the risk. Unfortunately, now he wasn’t able to look after his wife and children properly, his plan looked very flimsy indeed and although it was him behind bars, it was they who, from lack of cash and stability, were suffering.

With Eddie was in jail Sandra wanted her children to respect the law and not be influenced by their father’s deeds. The problem she had was that her kids were too young to really understand the relevance of him getting such a long jail sentence. How it made finances a problem and, just to keep their heads above water, how much harder she would have to work.

However, the fact that she even had to think this way made her an angry, short-tempered and severe woman. She loved her kids but at times could have drowned the whole lot of them. Thankfully, they were getting to an age where they could look after themselves, and, with the hassles of her job, she was thankful that Elizabeth could take some of the strain.

Sandra saw this constant conflict between her son and daughters and often wished she’d had three girls and then, she assumed, life would be so much easier. In her head she remembered how well she and her three sisters all got on together as they grew up. She happily reminisced about the support sisters gave each other and how disagreements were few and far between.

Although not completely true that’s how she remembered her youth and wished the same for her kids. The constant bickering, screaming, arguments, moodiness and plain aggravation was too much when she had other things to worry about. With her patience at an all-time low and stress at an all-time high she needed calm and serenity at home, which she knew wasn’t going to happen. She saw Billy, thanks to the regular negative comments from her daughters, as a disruptive and annoying influence, the cause of all disorder, so sided with them over everything.

Billy was not happy about his elder sister being given such influence because he knew it meant only one thing, total control over everything he wanted to do. He knew she loved nothing better than to impose rules and issue restrictions… she was very power-hungry for someone so young. He also knew that she was larger and stronger than he was so he’d have no alternative but to comply otherwise she’d just hurt him. He’d tried to stand up to her before and had the bruises for almost a week afterwards to prove it. She was tough and uncompromising, in other words, a bully.

The problem was that now he’d wet the bed – and he didn’t know why or how – what would happen next?

#

His mother was angry at his wet accident. “Typical of a lazy, thoughtless boy,” was how she saw it.

Nonetheless she decided it was probably a one off but made it clear to the scared lad that if it happened again, more drastic action would be taken. She didn’t spell out exactly what that meant but his older sister kept making baby noises and implying that’s how he’d end up.

Billy’s stress level accelerated as he worried about such consequences. He had no idea why he’d wet in the first place, it was something he hadn’t done since he was four. However, now that he’d had this nocturnal accident it was all he could think about.

This was no way to start the school break and yet, somehow he knew it would be the only thing that mattered. It would be the main conversation. He knew his sisters wouldn’t let him forget it and wasn’t sure how his mother would deal with it either. With Elizabeth and Dee-Dee taunting and calling him a baby (and when he wasn’t looking, pulling at the waistband of his pants to check he was still dry), he really wished he’d not had such a disastrous accident.

His mother briefly speculated if he was ‘stressed’ about something at school but other than that thought, appeared not to be all that interested. It was just one of those silly and inconvenient ‘accidents’ that kids had. Mind you, she’d also accused him of being too lazy to get up and go to the bathroom now that the holidays had started but again, this was just a dismissive rant at her ‘thoughtless’ son.

Billy tried to think why it might have happened but came up with nothing. There were no problems at school, in fact, now they were on summer break he was looking forward to getting out and spending more time with his friends away from his annoying family. He hoped that as he was getting a little older he’d be given more freedom to explore and be with his friends. He didn’t think that his excitement at such a prospect would have caused any kind of reaction. He was at a loss because the only thing he knew for sure was he’d woken up to a flooded, urine soaked bed.

He had another secret which was; that morning once he’d washed and dressed he’d accidentally peed himself again, whilst thinking about why he’d peed at night. Without warning a sudden hot spurt of urine dampened his clean white underpants before he had chance to clamp down on his bladder and finish the job at the toilet. He was thankful that the surprise and embarrassment had been his alone and there were no witnesses. He quickly changed and rinsed out his stained briefs hoping no one would be ever the wiser.

He was eleven years old and about to go up to big school so knew he shouldn’t be having such accidents. But that was twice now and he was worried, although he didn’t know what exactly it was he should be worried about. The pee that had just soaked his briefs had sent an uncomfortable tremor through his body just moments before it happened but he didn’t equate the two things to the outcome.

Because he saw it as his own fault he fretted that his friends would find out and was convinced that, at the earliest opportunity, one of his sisters would reveal such a night time misfortune to all his mates. Thankfully there was no school for any gossip to run rampant but he was still anxious.

He’d have been even more worried if he knew his little accident had given his big sister an idea on how to keep her siblings under control during the school break.

#

Had he called his friends he might have been able to see where the root of his problem lay. Two days earlier, he and a few of his mates had taken full advantage of a wonderful hot summer’s afternoon. On their way home from school and making plans for things to do during the long break they had taken a slight detour and ended up down by the canal. Feeling hot and sticky from their walk they dared each other to jump in because they’d seen other kids splashing about on the bank further along the towpath.

Ever since Billy was little his mother had continually emphasised that although it looks a peaceful stretch of water, he should never go into the canal as it was a dangerous place for a young boy to play. She knew at times it looked inviting but made him promise he’d never do what she’d seen other children do, and go for a swim in it. She told him it was full of hazards like submerged supermarket trolleys that had been thrown in and weeds that could easily entangle a person. It was full of unseen and unspecified dangers. She warned him that it was a very unhealthy place to even dangle his feet but, in the excitement of a hot afternoon and the fast approaching end of school, that was all forgotten.

He’d been warned yet chose that moment to play leader and show his friends he wasn’t afraid of a bit of water. He pulled off his school clothes, apart from his underpants, and launched himself into the almost still water. His friends, Dave, Aaron and Mitch, not to be outdone, joined him and soon the group of four eleven year-old boys were splashing about and gratefully cooling off from the afternoon’s heat.

They were caught up in the euphoria of adolescent dare-devilment, bravado and simply disobeying parents so, since no one was around to witness the event, they assumed there’d be no consequence.

Of course he never mentioned this illicit swim to his mother because he was able to dry himself before returning home. However, had he remembered the dire warnings his mother had given him in the past, he might have known that the canal had other invisible jeopardies.

If he’d made a call to any of those mates he’d swum with he would have found that two, Dave and Mitch had bad diarrhoea and Aaron, like Billy, had contracted a bladder infection. However,

Billy hadn’t connected as relevant the trip to the canal with the bedwetting. In fact, he was keeping completely quiet about that little adventure. He knew he’d be in very serious trouble if he admitted to his mum he’d been in the canal and was desperate not to be grounded for the summer.

Over the years the other three boys had also received similar dire warnings about the hazards of swimming in the canal so they had also decided to keep quiet about what they’d been up to. That meant their parents, like Billy’s mother, were equally baffled when their offspring suddenly started messing the pants (or beds) in one way or another.

Meanwhile, unknown to Billy was that loads of little nasty microbes were using his bladder as their own personal playground and, without treatment, were going to make life hell for their host… and a wet bed was only the start.

#

Elizabeth, having been given the responsibility to keep her brother and sister in check for the entire break, needed something during that period to amuse her. Her brother’s accident and subsequent shame had got her mind ticking and, after some thoughts being championed before being dropped, settled on a plan she decided would be both fun… and a challenge.

That night, whilst Dee-Dee and Billy slept, Lizzie took a small empty squeezy bottle and attached a length of plastic tubing to it. She filled it with a mixture of her own urine and warm water and then, as they slept, surreptitiously doused it over both their groins. She was very careful and took the entire process slowly making sure that they were both well soaked by the time she’d finished. In the morning mother was none too happy about seeing her two youngest children returning to their childhood problems.

On cue mother hit the roof, her mystified and crying wet children only adding to her annoyance. She had enough to cope with without all this ‘silliness’ and extra work. Even Dee-Dee came in for a stern telling off and the threat of a severe spanking for them both if it continued. Mum was just too pre-occupied to delve any deeper and hoped this was just a passing phase.

Sandra was used to difficult situations; since she’d met him her husband Eddie had dropped her in ‘it’ on many occasions. His free-wheeling way of dealing with life and the law, meant that she’d had to learn quickly to deal with his disastrous shortcomings. Fortunately, despite Eddie’s transgressions, she hadn’t turned her hand to criminal activity and was very well thought of in her high-pressure (if lowly paid) job as head of marketing for a local manufacturer.

However, her husband’s history was always at the forefront of her mind when she dealt with colleagues and customers. She knew she had not only to be above suspicion; she had to be better than anyone else and so had grown a very tough hide, which made her imperious in negotiations. She was very good at her job so demand on her work time was always there and, as she had to keep three kids in food, clothes and a roof over their heads, she worked almost nonstop.

Dee-Dee had been as shocked as her brother when she woke up to her wet nighty and bedding. She screamed it was Billy’s fault for ‘infecting’ her but even so was quite humiliated by the incident. She hadn’t wet the bed since being a toddler and was convinced it had something to do with her ‘stoopid’ brother. She’d just had her first year at school and was regarded as one of the brightest kids of the year; she didn’t now want to be thought of as a ‘stoopid’ baby bedwetter.

However, her own trauma seemed as nothing compared to the hysterics Billy was going through on his personal discovery. He couldn’t explain it, had no recollection or reason for doing it and dreaded what would happen as a result.

He cried and begged his mother not to punish him but to no avail. She was on the warpath over her ‘thoughtless’ kids seemingly doing everything they could to make her life that much more complicated.

She didn’t want excuses, she simply saw it as yet another thing to cope with and one she shouldn’t have to. After all, her kids were old enough not to piss themselves. She wasn’t thinking about the whys or wherefores of her children’s wet trauma, she was finding it difficult in keeping her temper under control.

In the past, when Billy had been naughty or just plain annoying, she’d deliver a quick couple of spanks and that would be it – a hot bottom but instant. However, at that moment, she had breakfast to arrange and herself off to work so didn’t have time. Nevertheless, running late as she was and about to storm out the door she left the threat that Elizabeth was in charge, so, their bedding had better be washed and everything back to normal when she returned home. The implied menace was that there would be worse to come if things hadn’t been achieved.

At least she hadn’t paddled them for their ‘accidents’ but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t later on. Both were petrified about being punished for something they couldn’t control and worried that their mother was so overwrought, she might just spank them even harder.

“It’s all your fault, you big baby.” Dee-Dee sulkily complained to her brother.

Billy had soaked the bed for a second time, together with accidentally wetting his briefs it was now a problem but didn’t know why. This was worrying but even more worrying he knew that Lizzie would use it against him. She’d made it clear what she thought of her ‘pissy little brother’ and feared the worst. He was very surprised that Dee-Dee also had an accident. To him at least, this was highly suspicious, although, for the moment at least, she was in the same sorry boat as him so wasn’t as unpleasant or uppity.

#

Meanwhile, as the two youngest sat guiltily eating breakfast Elizabeth privately suggested to her fraught mother that because they’d both wet like babies, perhaps that was how they should be treated.

Although Sandra wasn’t sure if that was the best course of action, she realised action needed to be taken. As her eldest pointed out, because she’d been put in charge, she didn’t want to be cleaning up their wet bedding every morning.

She had a point, so Sandra agreed that they should wear protection at night and see how things went. She was a bit troubled as to why both her youngest should suddenly start wetting again but really couldn’t give it enough thought as she was just too busy with work.

Since her husband had been sent to jail four years earlier she had come to rely on her eldest daughter to help out and be the one to keep the other two in line. As it turned out, it wasn’t a job she needed to be given because from a very early age Elizabeth had adopted the role for herself.

Elizabeth and Dee-Dee, despite the age difference seemed to get on, it was just their brother who was always moaning and arguing about something and nothing. Sandra just wished her kids would get along. There was absolutely no doubt that she would be at her wit’s end had it not been for Lizzie stepping up and taking on such responsibility.

So, as discussed, come night time, and no doubt huge protests, it was decided that for the time being at least, they would both wear protection to sleep in. To back this up, and prevent any further protests, there would be another threat from mother hanging in the air; if they acted up they would be sent to bed at 6pm with a well-tanned bottom. This would make objecting very difficult because mum wasn’t to be messed with. Once she’d made up her mind it would take an act of God to change it and the kids knew that from past experience. Lizzie was pleased with these provisos and, as she always did told her mother not to worry as she would have it all sorted before bedtime.

#

Sandra had stowed all their old baby things in the attic so Lizzie took great delight in bringing the stuff down to inspect for possible reuse. Very little of it would fit but she saw it more as inspiration than anything else. She liked the tiny little outfits but knew none of them would fit. However, the thick cotton nappy squares would be immediately pressed into service and the cute plastic pants might be of some use.

In her head Lizzie saw just how her younger siblings should, and would, be treated during this ‘anxious’ time for them. With just a little ‘encouragement’ from her, and the blind approval of mum, she saw them as puppies being trained. She saw Dee-Dee as easy to influence but also wanted both to know that everything from getting up and going to bed would be down to her… and that included how they were dressed.

She’d already made her worries known to her mother about the possibilities of either Billy or Dee-Dee having daytime accidents but hoped they would be able to go potty as normal. Lizzie chose her words carefully using babyish phrases to subliminally imply that her siblings were really just toddlers having a hard time and that they needed to be helped as much as possible.

She expressed her distaste at having to change nappies, whilst secretly making sure that was just what was going to happen. She’d even gone to the extreme of shanghaiing a couple of old thick towels into making suitable larger nappies for Billy, should he not fit into the ones she’d already requisitioned from the attic.

Her siblings were going to be her little babies for the foreseeable future and, she convinced herself, it would make the long boring holidays fun and bearable… well… for her at least.
Whilst she acted innocent as to the cause of this sudden wetting phenomenon, Lizzie impressed on her mother the fact that between them they needed to maintain a unified front to make sure, whilst they had their ‘problem’, night time protection was a must. Perhaps, she suggested hopefully, a couple of nights in nappies might embarrass them into getting to the toilet on time.

However, if it really was the start of some unknown wetting dilemma, well at least they were already protected for the occasion.

She insisted that any relenting would be seen as a weakness sending the wrong message to the messy duo. She pretended to be understanding of her sibling’s difficulty, after all, she just wanted them to be spared the worry of lying in a soaked bed at night.

“The little brats might object but it is for their own good.”

For a fourteen year-old she put up a convincing and ‘caring’ argument and, as her mother was far too busy to get involved, received the nod of approval.

A plan was formulating in Elizabeth’s mind as she realised she could exert more control over them both if they wore what she planned all the time, and, as mother would be out working and have very little time to supervise, she decided that’s just what she’d do. However, first she had to get them both in nappies, and not only at night.

#

Mother supervised the night time and made sure, despite weepy and angry protests, that both her youngest were well protected. Sandra got to nappy Billy, whilst Elizabeth saw to Dee-Dee. One of the pairs of plastic pants still fit little Dee-Dee so she was extra enveloped but Billy’s nappy looked too tight and ill-fitting. It was obvious that the plastic pants were far too small even for his small frame so his mother didn’t even try to use them.

He complained and had a little tantrum but his mother pointed out, with very little compassion, that as he’d pissed the bed twice she had no option. All through the process he cried and wailed and tried to be as uncooperative as possible, it didn’t help his case. In the end the nappy she was trying to get him to wear was way too small so had to resort to the towel that Lizzie had adapted earlier. This was a great deal thicker and forced his legs well apart once she’d pinned him in.

Although Sandra was annoyed at having to go to these extremes, she couldn’t help but smile at the thick nappy that made her son look younger and more juvenile than normal. The bulky, towelling material was huge and sagged making him look like a destitute little toddler.

A sudden memory filled her head as she recollected quite a few years ago putting him in nappies, which Lizzie had worn when she was little but were too large. She’d been a much larger toddler than Billy at that age so her hand-me-down nappies were way too big and like now, engulfed him in too much fabric.

She would have laughed out loud if Billy wasn’t squirming in humiliation. However, there was recognition of happier times and a delighted thrill ran through her body recalling when he was that small, dependant little boy. This memory continued as she tucked the soft cotton material under to make the legs a little less baggy and more leak-proof. For the briefest of moments she saw him back as he was at two years old. Strangely, after the infuriating day she’d had, this reminiscence improved her spirit no end and smiled tenderly at her nappy-clad little boy.

Billy wasn’t happy; his tears had dried up and his mother had finished with her struggle but to him it all felt heavy and uncomfortable. He knew it was his fault having wet but he hated the fact that his mum and sister were making him wear this bulky mass of material between his legs. He really had no option. He had woken up soaked twice and to prevent further damage to bed and bedding he saw the reasoning behind the nappy, even if he didn’t like it.

The scratchy old towel wasn’t what he’d hoped for, but neither was a puddle of pee, so he just had to put up with it. However, what made him stop his moaning was the threat that if he didn’t cease his whining, bedtime would be at 6pm for the rest of the school holiday. That shut him up and once his PJs were pulled up it just looked a little unwieldy but otherwise his shame was hidden.

Both kids had another thing to be thankful for because their mother had so many other problems on her mind, they’d escaped without punishment. So, albeit reluctantly, and not wishing to stir up her wrath, they went quietly to bed before she remembered her other threat.

Dee-Dee said she felt hot and uncomfortable but her mother kissed her goodnight and whispered she’d better not take it off until morning, and then only if she or Lizzie were there to supervise. Hearing the implied warning to his sister, Billy fidgeted but said nothing as she also kissed him goodnight. It took a while but eventually both were sound asleep, which was when their sister once more did her rounds.

#

Dee-Dee, with her extra plastic protection was going to be more difficult but didn’t wake up as Lizzie, armed with a torch and her ‘baby wetting’ bottle, pulled back the covers and inserted the tube down the front of her plastic pants. A nice long squeeze and half the bottle was soon being soaked up by the thick material. Her brother was a lot easier to dowse. Billy had wriggled around so much he had no bedding over him at all and even his PJs had slipped down revealing the top of his nappy. A second long squeeze and both the front and back of Billy’s defence was sodden and, because he wasn’t wearing plastic pants leaked onto his sheets.

In the morning Lizzie made sure it was mother who was first on the scene to see for herself just how wet they were. Both kids were crying at what they’d discovered, partly out of being confused and secondly in the hope to gain some sympathy and deter their mother from carrying out her threat to paddle them if it happened again.

Billy looked the most dejected. Has nappy sagged heavily between his legs and his PJs were doing nothing to hide that fact. At least the plastic protection Dee-Dee wore had done its job and could be seen to be a positive item as her bed was completely dry. It didn’t take much effort to draw the conclusion that they were obviously something needed with the current damp state of affairs.

Exasperated at her wet kids, the previous night’s thoughtful and understanding mum was replaced by the irritated and dissatisfied mum. She asked Elizabeth to see to them because, once again, she was in a rush and had no time to attend to what needed to be done. She also demanded that Lizzie made sure after they were washed and well dried, they received a coating of anti-rash cream (she still had some left from when Dee-Dee had needed it as a tot), and that plenty of baby powder was applied before being allowed to put on underwear.

“Can’t risk them getting a rash… so… make sure they’re well protected.” She said as she careered around gathering her things.

With a pretend look of horror at the very idea Lizzie added in mock disgust that she might just keep them in ‘protection’ all day as it would be so much easier. And to add emphasis to her argument, declared she was damned if she was going to be washing their pissed in clothes every few hours.

Sandra looked at her eldest as if to say “Now don’t go making any extra problems” but knew she relied on her to carry out what was necessary. Despite being the parent she wasn’t in a position to argue so rather gratefully left her eldest to do whatever she saw fit.

Seeing the sorry and very damp state her brother was in Lizzie suggested that they should get some vinyl pants for him as well as other extra items that might come in handy. Sandra noted that her son’s mattress might be getting too many soakings for it to be healthy and agreed that would be an expense too far. She handed over her credit card and told Lizzie to get what she thought would be best. She trusted her not to break the bank but realised that the kids needed something a little more substantial than the pathetic old and well-used cotton nappies they were wearing.

Billy and Dee-Dee didn’t hear this final instruction but had been left in their saturated protection whilst the two women discussed things. Chatting to her stressed mother as she dashed from room to room finally collecting her bag, coat and keys before departure Lizzie was able to gain more concessions from her, quite possibly concessions Sandra didn’t really know she was giving.
Mother’s final words as she blew a kiss and exited towards her car were: “Do as Lizzie says, I don’t want to hear of any bad behaviour when I get home this evening. Bye sweethearts and be good for your sister.”

With that she was on her way to work and the two dishevelled kids sat at the kitchen table still in their wet nightwear, awkwardly eating a bowl of cereal.
Meanwhile, Elizabeth was searching around for more items she thought might come in useful. The bathroom cabinet already contained talcum powder, wipes and other odds and sods, which the fourteen year-old was keen to press into service.

She giggled to herself in delight at the plans envisaged for her brother and sister. She hadn’t really thought about why she was doing this, just that she could. She liked the idea of being in control and better still, she loved the prospect of embarrassing them… especially her noisy, and now, pissy little brother.

As far as she was concerned, thanks to his wet inspiration, this was going to be the best summer holiday of them all.

This story is written by Les Lea

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

Chapter 2

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Subliminal Baby Part 2

This story is written by Elfy

Just like the previous day, Steven spent the day in his room waiting for Ritchie to go out. Ritchie would have football practice today, he was a formidable goalkeeper, and that would be in the evening so Steven knew that he would have time to plant a new message in Ritchie’s game. Steven knew just what to put, a message that would humiliate Ritchie, a message that would make sure that Steven was no longer seen as the baby of the family.

Eventually, similarly to the previous day, Steven saw Ritchie walk past his open door. This time Ritchie was sipping on another bottle of cola, clearly Ritchie had been playing his game because the message that Steven planted seemed firmly stuck.

As soon as the front door open and closed, Steven grabbed his USB stick and hurried into Ritchie’s room again. Booting up the computer he went straight into the subliminal program and deleted the previous message. Steven typed in a new sentence, a sentence that, if the programme was successful, would cause a very embarrassing problem for his older brother.

“You will wet the bed.”

Steven clicked save and closed the programme. Taking his USB stick he walked back to his own bedroom. He felt a few pangs of guilt about what he had done, perhaps he should forget the whole thing. Then he remembered Ritchie’s taunting, remembered all the things Ritchie was allowed to do and he wasn’t. Steven’s resolve got harder and he walked into his bedroom to play his own game. A small smile crept across Steven’s face as he thought about what would happen the next morning. He couldn’t wait!

The rest of the evening was filled with anticipation of what the morning would bring. Steven struggled to concentrate through dinner as he couldn’t help but get excited at the prospect of what the next morning would bring. He found himself looking over at Ritchie a lot as he was eating, Steven wondered if the message had already stuck in his brother’s brain.

When Steven went to bed that night he tossed and turned as he struggled to relax. He knew what was going to happen in his brother’s room, the thought that as he laid there Ritchie was soaking his bed was strangely exciting to him. Steven felt butterflies in his stomach even, he eventually fell into a restful sleep whilst Ritchie was still playing his game. An hour later Ritchie laid down and fell asleep without any trouble or any inclination that anything was wrong.

As Steven woke the next morning his thoughts went straight to his brother. He knew he had woken up earlier than everyone else in the house, he always went to bed early, so he knew Ritchie was likely still asleep. Steven quickly got dressed, opened his bedroom door and waited.

It took an hour before something happened and when it did happen it was very quick. Steven heard quick footsteps before his brother almost ran past his door, he was clutching his bedclothes. Steven ran to his door and watched his older brother hurry down the stairs to the laundry room.

Steven was shocked. He knew the cola suggestion had worked but this was a big step up and the fact it worked in one evening actually surprised him somewhat. Steven made a move to head downstairs and confront Ritchie but he stopped himself before he left his room. He had a better idea, best not to rush things. He was interested to see what happened next.

The next few days played out in the same way. Each morning found an increasingly distraught Ritchie doing his own washing to hide the fact that he was wetting the bed. Steven noticed that at dinner Ritchie seemed more withdrawn and distracted each night. The cocky and arrogant brother he had known had disappeared in just a few short days. Steven loved it.

On the fourth day that Steven watched Ritchie run past he decided to follow him. Steven walked down to the laundry room where he found his older brother, red in the face, stuffing his bedsheets into the washing machine. Steven leant against the door frame and watched his brother for a second before clearing his throat theatrically.

“You’ve been doing a lot of washing recently… Always bedsheets too by the look of it.” Steven said casually. He had a small smirk which suggested to Ritchie that Steven knew what was going on.

“GET OUT!” Ritchie yelled. He strode over and shoved Steven out of the door. Steven tripped and nearly fell, fortunately the wall opposite the door kept him upright.

“What’s going on?” It was mom. Karen came striding over to the doorway where all the drama was taking place. Karen looked from Steven who was rubbing his shoulder and grimacing over to Ritchie and his laundry that was half in the machine and half on the floor.

There was silence for a few seconds as everyone took in the scene in front of them.

“Steven, go to your room please, I need to speak with your brother.” Karen said quietly to Steven.

Steven had no problem complying with the request, this was an interesting development. He hadn’t figured on his mother finding out about his brother’s nocturnal problems, not yet anyway.

Steven had a plan, whilst Ritchie was speaking to his mom Steven hurried upstairs and into Ritchie’s bedroom. Now that their mother was finding out about what was going on it seemed like a good time to escalate things further. This was initially supposed to be Steven getting some small revenge on Ritchie but Steven found the power he now had intoxicating. He couldn’t help but push the envelope further.

Steven logged into the software and deleted his previous message and replaced it with a new message.

“You will wet yourself when excited.”

Steven wasn’t sure if the bedwetting message would stick. Ritchie’s sudden need for cola disappeared after a day or so, Steven wondered whether being exposed to the bedwetting suggestion for a few days would make the effects last longer. Ritchie had fast become Steven’s guinea pig as he experimented with the power of suggestion.

Steven hurriedly left the room after adjusting the message, eager to see where the new suggestion would lead.

“It’s not what it looks like!” Ritchie said as soon as Steven left the room.

Karen stayed silent and walked forward. She pulled one of the sheets out of the washing machine and held it up. The sunlight coming through the window showed a very clear and very large wet spot on the otherwise clean sheet.

“It’s OK honey.” Karen said with a smile, “This is nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Ritchie felt his eyes watering. What was going on? Why was he suddenly wetting the bed like he was nothing more than a toddler failing at potty training?

Karen dropped the sheet and stepped forward into a tight hug with her son. Ritchie sobbed slightly as he allowed himself to be embraced.

“Don’t worry honey, it’s probably just stress. I will get something that will help in the short term, I’m sure this is temporary.” Karen said in her son’s ear. She pulled herself away from her son’s grasp to see him wiping the tears from his face. She quickly grabbed her keys and headed out of the house.

The rest of the day passed by normally. Steven did some coding on the computer but found himself constantly distracted by his experimentation on his brother. What had started as petty revenge had now become a fascination as Steven had started reading up on subliminal messaging. He spent a lot of his time now researching different suggestion methods and what kind of messages would stick more than others. His new interest quickly became something closer to an obsession.

Ritchie was abnormally quiet. He would normally be out with his friends or playing games and music noisily in his room but all he seemed to be doing today was sit in his room quietly. Steven walked past once or twice to head to the bathroom and saw he was playing his game, very quietly, for most of the day. Each time Steven saw this he felt his heart jump as he realised the message was being planted as he watched, he was very careful to avoid looking at the screen himself.

Steven was lying in bed in his pyjamas when he heard footsteps walk past his door moving towards his brother’s bedroom. Steven heard a knock on the door followed by the door opening. His curiosity getting the better of him, he stood up and tiptoed along the landing to the other bedroom himself. He noticed the door had been left slightly open and he got low to the ground and peeked around the door. He could see his mother with a plastic bag and his brother, who was sitting at the computer looking at her.

“Honey, I have something for you, something that will help with… Your little problem.” Karen said towards Ritchie.

Ritchie looked nervous and didn’t respond.

“Well, I don’t think you will like it but I think it will help.” Karen reached into the bag and pulled out something that both boys instantly recognised, “Now, it’s not a diaper…”

“A diaper!?” Ritchie exclaimed. Even in the darkly lit room Steven could see Ritchie going a bright red.

Steven covered his own mouth with his hands to keep from giving himself away from laughing.

“Not a diaper, sweetie.” Karen corrected her son softly, “It is a pull up, they are made for older boys who have trouble keeping the bed dry.”

“I’m not wearing a diaper!” Ritchie said loudly as he jumped to his feet in indignation. He immediately winced and turned his voice down, the last thing he wanted was for his brother in the room next door to hear.

“Come on, look I will help you into it.” Karen said. She stepped forward and before Ritchie could react she had grabbed his trousers and underwear and wrenched them down.

“MOM!” Ritchie yelled out as he was suddenly exposed.

Steven quickly shut his eyes before he saw anything and carefully moved away from the door. The last thing he wanted was to see his brother naked.

“Oh, come on! It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” Karen said. She held out the pull up and pulled open the waistband for Ritchie to step into.

Ritchie whimpered slightly and, whilst doing his best to cover his crotch with his hand, he stepped forward into the pull up. Karen quickly pulled it up and over Ritchie’s privates.

“There we go.” Karen said as she stepped back and looked at the plain white pull up, “It fits nicely. Normally it is for teens slightly younger than yourself but it should do the job.”

Steven peeked around the door again when he heard his brother wasn’t exposed anymore and, again, had to cover his mouth to stop from laughing loudly at his brother in a very infantile pair of absorbent underwear.

Steven cut short his eavesdropping. This was going so much better than he could ever have hoped, he thought. He quietly and hurriedly went back to his own room and got back into bed. He had a huge grin that he couldn’t hide, his plan was working perfectly and would only get better. The sight of Ritchie in a pull up only inspired Steven to push his plans even further.

Ritchie slowly opened his eyes. The alarm next to his bed was buzzing loudly. He rolled over and sleepily groped for the button and as he shut the alarm off he suddenly realised his bed wasn’t wet!

Ritchie grew a broad smile and jumped out of bed celebrating his success, as he did so his smile rapidly disappeared. He remembered the pull up and as he looked down and felt the pull up with his hand he realised that the soft padding had swelled up and was very obviously used. They had done their job, the bed was dry, but Ritchie wasn’t.

Ritchie sat back down on his bed and put his head in his hands. This couldn’t be happening, he thought, wetting his pull up like this proved that he did indeed need them which was the last thing he wanted to admit. At least this was a night time only problem, Ritchie thought. Nobody outside of the house needed to know, it wouldn’t affect him to badly.

“Ritchie, you are going to be late!” It was mom calling from downstairs.

It took Ritchie a few seconds to work out what she meant. Suddenly he realised that today was the day he played football and that he had to get a move on or he would be late. All of the stress of the previous few days had pushed his football playing to the back of his mind but now he was suddenly reminded of it all as he realised his mother and brother were probably waiting downstairs for him. It was exactly what Ritchie needed, a chance to take his mind off of his problems for a while.

Ritchie ripped the sides of the pull up off and it fell to the floor with a heavy thud. The pull up was absolutely soaked and any more urine would probably have caused a leak. Ritchie got dressed in the closest things to hand and grabbed his kit bag. He charged out of the room and down the stairs. Karen opened the door and the three of them piled in for the short drive. They could have walked to the pitch, which was only just around the corner, but because they were running late and they needed to carry Ritchie’s kit it was just easier to drive.

As Steven got in the back seat behind his brother and the car pulled off he was gratified at the faint smell of urine that seemed to be coming from his brother.

The game was in its closing minutes and Ritchie’s team were winning 1-0. Ritchie played as a goalkeeper and he had very little to do in this match, in fact he had spent most of the game just watching as his team dominated the match.

Steven was watching from the side lines and he was very bored. He had never liked sport but his mom always made him come to the games because she didn’t like him being home alone, despite him being old enough to look after himself, and thought this would allow the two brothers to bond.

Suddenly, and totally against how the game had gone up until this point, one of the opposing strikers took advantage of a defensive slip and ran through on goal.

Ritchie quickly got into position as he rushed towards the edge of the box to close down the striker. He felt his heartbeat racing and adrenaline surged through his veins as he realised this was his moment to win the game for his team.

Ritchie set himself and just as the striker went to shoot, Ritchie stood totally still. It was a poorly hit shot that would have been an easy save but Ritchie was suddenly staring into the middle distance in horror. As the ball trickled into the net and the other team celebrated something else was trickling from Ritchie.

Steven looked more interested all of a sudden as he watched his brother just let the ball roll into the net. He went from being disinterested and looking forward to going home to very interested in events on the field.

Ritchie grabbed his crotch as he felt a wetness spreading and ran towards the side lines and towards the changing rooms. As he ran he felt the wet spot getting bigger and bigger until he felt a small stream of pee running down his leg. He heard his bewildered team mates asking what was going on, the game wasn’t over yet.

Without stopping Ritchie ran straight into the changing room in a panic. He couldn’t believe that his night time problem was now happening here and now. He had a small puddle around his feet when he finally felt himself stopping the flow, it seems that until his bladder was fully empty he couldn’t stop himself wetting like a baby.

“What the hell is going on?” Ritchie’s coach came round the corner into the dressing room to find his star player standing in what was clearly his own piss.

Ritchie felt tears running from his eyes as he saw the look of revulsion on his coach’s face. His crotch was starting to feel cold and uncomfortable as the air cooled his wet clothes.

“Get yourself showered and go home.” The coach said as he turned to leave the room. He looked embarrassed for Ritchie who was now sobbing.

Ritchie, deep in shame, just picked up his things and ran out of the building and towards the alleyway back to his house. He sobbed the entire journey terrified that his night time problem was now a daytime problem.

Meanwhile, back in the stands, Steven felt a combination of excitement and shock. The new command had worked and at a moment of adrenaline Ritchie had wet himself like an overexcited toddler. As Karen anxiously grabbed her things and started ushering Steven towards the car she saw, from the other side of the field, her older son running back towards home. Perhaps her eldest son’s problem was more serious than she thought.

This story is written by Elfy

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 1

Chapter 3

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A bit of mess – part 1

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

Order by NoxVulpes

Draw and text by BabyStar

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

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

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

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Auntie Joan Part 1

This story is written by Les Lea

I watched as the latest terror attack was reported in graphic detail by the TV news. Over ninety people so far dead in an explosion in Mumbai that was obviously aimed at the bus full of new army recruits who were on their way back to base. The huge car bomb was so intense that it obliterated the bus and everything within a hundred metre radius, what I didn’t know was that my parents just happened to be passing in their taxi at the time.
My name is Dean Court.
Yes I know it sounds like a venue – ‘Could you book the reception at Dean Court please?’ or ‘Dean Court, the ideal place for your aging parents to live out the rest of their lives in a safe and secure environment’ or more likely ‘Dean Court, oh yes they do a wonderful seafood and champagne brunch’.
However, I’m thirteen, nearly fourteen, and go to a private school in the UK, even though I’m from Washington DC originally. Both my parents work for the government, though I have no idea what they do, but I hardly know them as I was packed off to school the minute I was of the correct age – I was three. Since then I have spent more time away from home and my parents than I have with them. They were quite old, late forties, when they had me but there was never a close bond. I can honestly say I hardly know them and obviously I was some kind of hindrance to their busy careers. I suppose that’s why I ended up at a school I absolutely hate in England but which was well away from them back home in the USA.

#

I had no idea why my parents should have been in Mumbai, but when two men and a woman from the embassy arrived at school and I was removed from class to be informed of their deaths, I honestly didn’t know what to think. I was stunned. I asked the agents what mom and dad were doing in India in the first place but they said they didn’t know. I could tell they knew more than they were saying but they were ‘agents’ so weren’t going to tell me anything. None of it made any sense, but whether it made sense or not, the main point was that both my parents had perished in a terrorist attack, in a foreign country and I had no idea why. Perhaps the sad thing was, I didn’t cry, I hardly knew them. I hadn’t even know they were in India that’s how invested they were in me. They may have thought I was getting the best education available but I was an unhappy American, in a school riddled with class and discrimination. It may well have been number one for educating the elite of ‘Ye Olde England’ but for me it was a constant and unhappy trial.

The school’s philosophy of keeping their students busy and involved backfired with me. I hated games, I hated my fellow students, I hated being away from home, I hated the teachers that tried to involve me in the way the ethos of the school operated. I hated the over-prissy school uniform along with the fucking UK and all it stood for.
My nickname was ‘Doodle’, they chirpily informed me, as in ‘Yankee Doodle Dandy’ but I never responded to it. The school ‘house’ system annoyed me so much, I couldn’t understand (or want to be involved) in anything that bonded a group of kids, as diverse as we were, over something so stupid as ‘playing for the benefit of the team’ or house in this case. No, I was a very unhappy boy in an institution I couldn’t escape. I resented every second I was there and even more the parents who, without asking or even considering my opinion, sent me to such a prestigious hell hole.
I felt cheated out of my childhood. I’d been handed from one institution to the next since I was three and always with the expectation of the betterment my parents no doubt wanted for or from me. Even when I was home the contact between us was minimal and I’d spend a huge amount of time in my room, playing on the computer, reading and waiting to be shipped back to school. Not once do I ever remember my father suggesting we should go to a theme park together, or go swimming, or camping together… or any damn thing that parents do with their kids.

#

Of course I had everything I wanted… except a family or friends. At school I hated being forced to be friends with people I detested. I wasn’t stupid and my grades were quite good, but I objected to being made to live with people I found objectionable, shallow, self-obsessed and entitled. In return they found me pathetic, dumb, withdrawn and not worthy of any consideration at all. I absorbed more than I showed but gave out very little. Teachers tried to chivvy (God at times I come over so English) me into various pursuits but gave up when my apathy began to corrupt others. I think they didn’t really want me contaminating the other students and I’m sure dad got regular reports on my attitude to school fellowship and all that rubbish entails. On several occasions I’d be called into the house master’s study or the school shrink’s office for a ‘friendly chat’ but I could see their prying ways and offered nothing back. I may have detested my parents but I wasn’t going to give this bunch of ‘professors’ that kind of ammo. I said very little, offering one word answers or subliminal contempt, all though I’m not sure just how subliminal I was.
So, my parents being blown to smithereens was a turning point in my life because I was shipped back to Washington DC for a funeral that was attended by some bigwigs from the government. It was so high profile that even the TV companies and press were there but I still couldn’t get a straight answer to my question – ‘what did my parents do?’ It was then I realised that mom and dad must have been pretty important. Although this revelation didn’t make me think any less of them (I was so angry I don’t think I could have thought any less of them), as far as I was concerned they had abandoned me in favour of the state and left for others to bring up… they also did a terrible job.
As both coffins were ceremoniously lowered into the grave I realised I was now an orphan and knew that as a thirteen year-old I still had no say in my future. I dreaded being returned to school in England to ‘finish my education’ but looked around at the mourners and wondered who, if any of those assembled, would be bothered at what became of me.
I believe that people within the government had tried to find my next of kin. My grandparents were old and unable to take me in, my parents being in their forties when they had me, and the only person they tracked down was dad’s estranged sister Joan who lived out in the mid-west. I hadn’t seen her for over ten years and could hardly remember what she looked like so when the black-clad lady approached with her condolences I had no idea she was to be my future guardian. However, she put an arm around my shoulder and for the first time since the deaths, well, in fact, for the first time in many years; I felt that someone actually cared.

#

For the next few days she and I lived in my parent’s house as their business was put into some kind of order; the house, their banking details, the compensation from the government for my loss, were all sorted by the family lawyer and my aunt. A trust fund was set up and several other financial, legal and administrative problems overcome. It came as no surprise to me that Aunt Joan was the only person who, albeit reluctantly, was thinking what was best for me.
As I said, I was dreading being punted off back to the UK but thankfully Auntie Joan was dead against it. She didn’t like their privileged educational system and I think more importantly, she detected my complete distaste for the place. I loved her immediately for her insight into what made me tick. It may not seem such a big thing but I can tell you, for the first time in my entire life, I thought I was on the same wavelength as another person.
One night she asked me if I was happy. A simple question and not imbued with any deep meaning but it was the first time I’d been asked about anything and, I’m sad to say, I broke down and cried. I’m thirteen and this was the first time I’d openly cried for as long as I could remember. That one spark of interest in me and my welfare meant the world and I cried and cried whilst being gently consoled by my dad’s estranged sister.
The tears weren’t at the loss of my parents but, as I saw it, the loss of my life that had me so emotional. Again auntie offered comfort and explained she was going to look after me and to forget the pompous school in England… she hoped I’d be OK with that decision. As far as she was concerned I was going to join her back at the little town she called home and where, she assured me, I would have a better life. She said quite deliberately that she would never abandon nor leave me to someone else to bring up; I was too precious to put in other people’s hands. I can’t tell you what a relief her few words were and I felt a whole heap of anger, frustration and entrenched hate suddenly evaporate.

#

However, her now being my guardian she was also privy to the fact I had another, more personal problem. When I was at the school in the UK, I occasionally wet the bed. I wasn’t even sure if I was doing it on purpose or not, although I certainly didn’t like the name calling or my wet mattress, for some reason I didn’t actually mind wet PJs and the little rebellion it kindled in my head. However, that night time problem persisted whilst back home and even after the funeral I had woken up every morning drenched in a pool of piss. Everyone appeared very understanding knowing the pressure I was obviously under, coming to terms with everything though I didn’t tell them it was an ongoing problem that I’d had for some time. I had no idea if the school had reported back to my parents; however, I felt I should speak to my aunt about it.
I was nervous bringing up the subject but she came into my room one morning and I was just coming to terms with another wet set of PJs. The dark huge damp patch was obvious spreading across my pale blue cotton bottoms. It had even reached my jacket and I couldn’t be sure but I think my room smelled of pee. Luckily, I’d already managed to put a rubber sheet down to protect the mattress so it was only me and the sheets that were wet. I was embarrassed. Normally, if I’d been at school I would have looked defiantly at anyone who thought to make a comment, as if daring them to say something, but at that moment I felt like a silly little kid who couldn’t last a night without pissing himself.
Tears seemed to be something I did now as I guiltily revealed to her what had happened. I don’t cry, well I didn’t cry before, so why they came so easily I wasn’t too sure.
“It’s OK Dean, don’t worry.”
She put her arms around me and gave me a cuddle.
I stifled the sobs that were left.
I explained that this wasn’t a one off, that I’d been a bed-wetter, off and on, for a long time now. I knew I should have grown out of it but, well, I hadn’t and I was sorry if that was going to be a problem for her.
“Don’t be silly Dean, nothing you do will be a problem to or for me, but let’s get you cleaned up and packed, as I think it’s time I… we… went home.”
She smiled the most endearing smile. Like mom and dad she was at least 50 years-old but still had the skin the texture of a woman in her thirties. Under her mop of faded blonde hair her face radiated warmth and understanding and again I felt protected and safe when Auntie Joan spoke.
“Doesn’t it bother you?” I queried as I looked down at my sodden bedding.
She laughed out loud.
“Sweetie, back home I run a children’s nursery so if a bit of pee or poo worried me, I’d definitely be in the wrong business.”
She urged me to get up, take a shower and dress as she’d booked us on a flight home.

#

HOME?
I had no idea where in the mid-west I was going to call home but auntie had organised everything, she’d packed up most of my things and had already shipped them out together with one or two mementos and pieces of furniture. She said there was little point in taking too much as she didn’t need it and I didn’t appear that bothered about keeping anything so, my clothes and computer had been dispatched and we travelled with minimal luggage.
However, once I was out of the shower and deciding on what to wear for the flight auntie asked me a strange question.
“Will you be OK to travel as you are or would you prefer to wear protection?”
She said it so matter of factly, as if it was something I might have considered in the past but in truth I hadn’t.
“Er, er, no, er I’m OK,” I was still adding up the ramifications of what she’d just asked. Did she expect that I needed to wear some kind of protection when I travelled?
“OK Sweetheart…”
That was a new term of endearment and one that instantly sent a shiver of pleasure through my body. Nobody, not even my parents, had ever used such a term of endearment… and I loved it.
“…dress for comfort because when we get there it will be in the 80s and we don’t want a sweat drenched suit to be your first experience of your new home.”
I didn’t have much choice; some stuff was left for the final packing crate so I ended up wearing my undies, a t-shirt, a blue sweatshirt and a pair of knee-length navy blue shorts and navy blue sneakers. Auntie said I looked like a local, which I suppose she meant those I was going to meet for the first time.
She was all smiles and joviality and determined that my parent’s deaths were consigned to history and that I should be treated as a boy about to embark on a new life that I had some control over.

#

During the flight, and again on the journey from the airport to her… our… home, the fact that she’d asked if I needed protection kept resurfacing in my brain. It wasn’t that I was offended, though I was surprised, but the thought of what that might be like just wouldn’t go away. She was telling me about the town where she, sorry, we called home, a place of just twenty thousand inhabitants in the south-west corner of Kansas. She explained that ‘The Rainbow Rooms Nursery’ (hereinafter called The Rainbow) was her business and where she and a staff of four permanent and four temporary looked after children from babies up to pre-schoolers at five. She explained that sometimes older kids also joined the youngsters in class because that was the age they identified with. I assumed she was being polite and meant that they were slow or had mental problems but, as she didn’t speak that way, I kept those thoughts to myself.
My new home was a two story house comprising off; three bedrooms and two bathrooms upstairs, a kitchen, a living room, a den and large utility room (with toilet and shower facilities) downstairs and an even larger basement. All this was set on a decent plot of land, which auntie had made into a very nice garden with flowers and bushes to all sides and a lawn that swept down to the sidewalk. The street was a mixture of small homes like ours and larger, three story places designed for rich folk or big families. There was quite a selection but the area felt safe and clean and all the exteriors appeared well maintained. We lived at number 46 Glendew Lane and the homes on either side of us were built exactly the same as ours.

#

Auntie’s room was the largest and at the front of the building whereas mine was one of the two rooms that faced the back garden. The packing cases had already been magically transported to my room although the bed had yet to be constructed. I sighed a little at the prospect of fixing up my bed because in truth, I was hopeless at anything, even that basics, by way of construction. However, the other bedroom was already set up as a nursery because auntie said that occasionally she babysat or looked after kids whose parents had to go somewhere in an emergency and they needed someone to look out for their child.
Most of the children she babysat were of an age where a nursery was more appropriate than a bedroom, so she kept it prepared for any such crisis. There was a crib and a small bed, both already made up and ready for a little person in need of a place to stay. The crib was all childish fleecy blankets and stuffed animals and I felt a sudden pang in my chest and I wasn’t sure why. The bed was covered by a duvet with Disney characters all over it and a matching pillow. Again, it was stacked with several teddy bears and other stuffed animals. I swallowed hard, standing in the doorway wishing I could just curl up with them and go to sleep. For some reason I couldn’t get my breath and my heart was pounding, I thought I was having some sort of panic attack or delayed response to my parents death and I started to cry.
God damn it, what is wrong with me?

#

Unaware of her presence auntie seemed to know I was struggling with something and came and put her arms around me. The roar that left my chest as I bawled like a two year-old was quite uncontrollable and I wept into auntie’s bosom just like that toddler would. She soothed my distress and stroked my hair, it was a feeling that was alien to me and I couldn’t get enough of it. Eventually, she guided me towards the bed and we sat to talk. The bed had rails around to stop a child from falling out but on one side the rail was down so we made ourselves comfortable there. In due course I was able to get my tears under control and we chatted like we hadn’t done before.
To get things rolling she explained the function of the room, even though it was pretty obvious; the toys, the piles of diapers, plastic pants, wipes and lotions, ointments and powders. What I hadn’t noticed though auntie had, was that I’d wet myself whilst being so affected by the room. There was a damp stain on my trousers, enough to flag my wet situation but she just patted my back and asked if I’d mind if she sorted me out. I wasn’t completely sure what that meant but I was too emotional to think straight and in truth I was tired and just glad I didn’t have to concern myself with any of it.
She told me not to worry; she’d done this a thousand times and with boys my age so not to be embarrassed. She stripped me out of all my clothes and lay me out naked on the bed. She asked if I thought I needed to go to the toilet but I think it was too late for that, so shook my head. She then wiped my damp pubic area and towelled me dry before applying a scented lotion and rubbed in some baby powder. None of this bothered me I was now so relaxed in her caring hands I needed it to continue, I’d never felt so wanted. Once she was satisfied I was happy and not anxious about anything she reached up and grabbed a large disposable. She unfurled it as I watched, and although part of me was saying ‘no’, another part was hoping she’d just tape me in and I’d have no say in the situation. This was exactly what she did.
I was clean, warm and snug as she juggled a pair of opaque plastic pants up and over the diaper. She then reached for a blue cotton t-shirt and fed my arms and head into it before rolling it down my body. I hadn’t noticed the snaps at the bottom as she fastened me in.
“I think Dean you are just one tired little boy… so why don’t you just climb into bed,” She pulled down the duvet cover and invited me in, “and get a good night’s sleep?”
It wasn’t a question, I was exhausted and at that moment I yawned and felt that sleep was just what I needed. She stroked my hair for a few moments before slipping a teddy into my arms, which I snuggled tightly. My eyes were closed but I could hear the rails being pulled up and click into position but I was too sleepy to think any more about it. I heard her say night-night from the door and then I was alone.

This story is written by Les Lea

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

Chapter 2

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Celebrating a (mostly) dry night!

Celebrating a (mostly) dry night!One of Bosky’s Twitter pal’s likes to celebrate the mornings he’s had a dry night! I wanted to draw him doin’ that!

And Bosky’s been known to have not-so-dry nights, so that’s what happened here. X3

Bosky’s border collie pal is named Austin! ( )

Draw by Bosky

Source: http://www.furaffinity.net/view/29505512/

Awww seems like one of them did dent woke up dry this morning and have something to celebrate :(

Maybe they should switch underwear now? It seems like the wrong furry is wearing diapers here.

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Bedwetting dragon – Satuki_rabbit

Aww poor dragon it seems like he have ended up whit a pretty big wet spot in his bed. Poor thing looks like its maybe its time to put him back into diapers?

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Wet Undies Again? Looks Like it’s Back to Diapers

Wet Undies Again? Looks Like it's Back to Diapers

Looks like someone’s getting put back into diapers after soaking their big boy pants.

Characters belongs to ALittlePrince and lulukitten

Text by ALittlePrince

Draw by Wen

Source: http://www.furaffinity.net/view/27716354/

Awww poor looks like ALittlePrince have woke up whit another night time accidents and this time his mother think it is time for him to get back into diapers again. Special during his sleep so the diaper can handle his bedwetting problems and the diaper helps his bed to stay dry and soft instead of being wet and cold. That most be match more nicer :)

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