Wet cloths

Billy’s Fault Part 11

This story is written by Les Lea

Now that first communal change was out of the way Lizzie was of the opinion, which she shared with the other girls, that all a boy needed to feel good about himself was a dry nappy. Her friends sniggered in agreement. She’d been in her element, controlling and capable and, after dealing with Aaron’s little rebellion, pleased at just how quickly the other boys came to heel.

But things were changing… again… and not just nappies.

Once the boy’s wet padding was transformed to dry, and with their obvious embarrassment behind them, they seemed a little more at ease. Whereas Billy and Dave had been fairly quick to realise they had little option, it was now dawning on Mitch and Aaron that this was how things were going to be from now on… or until their parents had a massive re-think.

Although they’d been terrified of others seeing them dressed in such a fashion, now they were all together it didn’t seem too bad. As the boys were all in the same boat, reduced to wearing protection and nothing else, it was amazing just how quickly they began to accept the situation.

Any thought of rebellion from this small group of heavily nappied boys was already fading as they saw the inevitability of what was going on around them. With their parents all of a similar mind and nowhere they’d feel safe running off to, ‘summer camp’ was all they had.

Yes, they’d hated being changed by strangers but had to swallow any pride (and modesty) because they simply had no choice. The way Lizzie had dealt with Aaron had chastened them all and the fact that these girls were a lot stronger than they appeared had come as a surprise; tantrums and acting tough were not the answer. Lizzie had certainly surrounded herself with friends who weren’t to be messed with and could hold their own in any fight – all three were quite formidable.

The feelings of awkwardness around each other was gradually disappearing and the fact that they’d all soaked their nappies whilst napping had made it a level playing field for humiliation. Even Dave’s messy one had been dealt with without so much as a scrunched up nose by the rest of the gang.

They’d all been in a similar situation over the past few days.

#

Dee-Dee had gone off to play more with Beth so Dave had to join in with the lads. He was still very sheepish but Billy made that extra effort to make him feel he wasn’t alone.

“I think Aaron and Mitch think there’s a way out of this…” Billy indicated his plastic pants to a nodding Dave. “I’m not so sure as I’ve never seen mum, or Lizzie for that matter, more intent on anything.”

Dave’s constantly weepy-looking eyes and submissive shrug meant he understood. He should do as he and Billy had definitely suffered the worst retribution for their misdemeanours. With very powerful and unyielding females taking the lead they really had little alternative but to do as directed if worse wasn’t to follow.

Once all the boys had been changed and were back together in their small group it was Dave who quietly suggested that to get through this punishment without too much aggravation, perhaps it would be best to cooperate. Although there were murmurs of discontent he pointed out that whilst all their parents were ardently supportive of what was happening, without making matters worse, they were in no position to defy anyone.

“But it’s just fucking ridiculous.” Mitch hissed through his teeth, aware he didn’t want the girls to hear him cussing. “I’m not going to let them do this to me… it’s not right… it’s illegal… I’m….”

He saw Nancy looking suspiciously over at him so immediately stopped his quiet, if intense tirade.

The heat from Aaron’s spanked bottom was just beginning to ease so although he agreed with his friend, he didn’t want to take up the fight.

Dave countered the argument saying that someone else changing their nappies was better than wondering around in a messy one and, after what had happened to Aaron, his contention was: did they really want to continually get spanked?

He was of the opinion they should just suck it up and try to get through the ordeal as quickly as possible and, more importantly, with the least amount of physical abuse.

Although there was no bright side to their situation he did also advance that it could be worse – at least they were together in private and not out where anyone could see them. So, perhaps for the sake of just getting through it all, they should knuckle down and do just that. A nappy wasn’t so bad, was it?

However, sniggering and baby talk from the girls had set them on edge so they wanted to put as much distance between them as possible.

#

This wasn’t going to be that easy because, almost immediately, the girls were enjoying their incredible power so were constantly checking for wet nappies. According to the timetable they had no intention of changing them (unless they’d messed) but were happy to make the boys feel uncomfortable, which they succeeded in so doing.

Despite this attention soon the boys were playing a game of Shilpha’s suggestion and the girls were joining in. Even Beth and Dee-Dee abandoned their dolls so they could be involved.

What they were all unaware of was the pharmacist’s contribution and just how keen he was in spreading this new punishment inspired ideology. The drink they’d had at lunchtime had released a chemical which was still in their system; it hadn’t all been peed out during naptime.

It was Dee-Dee who wet her knickers first. Without any warning she suddenly found pee streaming down her legs. She had no control and was extremely embarrassed by what was happening.

She stood, horrified to the spot as her socks, as well as her knickers became completely sodden by the sudden flow.

Beth looked on in astonishment as her friend lost control and burst into tears. Dee-Dee had no idea why she wet but it was one of the reasons she’d been wearing her own protection in the past, to prevent such a calamity. She’d seen it happen to Billy in those early days and it had scared her into believing the best prevention was protection. Now, and for no reason, it had happened, in front of her friend and this group of well-padded boys. She rushed off red-faced back to her own room with Lizzie in pursuit.

#

The pharmacist, Edward Swinton had big ideas. He’d loved Sandra’s suggestion of the ‘Summer Camp’ for naughty or rebellious children and was letting this idea percolate amongst some of his new customers. He realised that the long break meant many arguments and disruption in families with parents and children at odds.

Determined to make as much money out of this idea as possible he launched an online chat group discussing such things as – disruptive children, punishment, regressive behaviour and a host of other thoughts. He added a ‘What If’ feature, where he set out, without naming any such programme existed, the very things Sandra was doing with her unruly son and his friends.

It was soon obvious that had Sandra launched her idea citywide she would have been swamped by the response, many of the respondents to the feature begging for such a ‘Summer Camp’ to exist. Some desperate for a place to unload their troublesome offspring, even if that meant them spending the entire break in nappies.

If Sandra wasn’t going to take up this golden opportunity Edward was of the opinion that where there was a market, a fortune could be made so had every intention, one way or another, to make this ‘rehabilitating’ concept available to all.

#

Meanwhile, the mad summer break that all of them, in some form or other, had hoped for only a short time ago was now a different prospect. Lizzie had been grateful for what had happened. It was her scheme to have her brother and sister in nappies after all, but, even she was surprised at how intense it had gotten and so soon. She was actually indebted that on this first day, her friends had arrived to help (take the piss?) only to find they had so quickly got involved.

The girls were part of a little clique at school which had Lizzie at its head; an already highly intelligent group who knew how to control situations way above their age definition. They had succeeded in doing so both at home and at school, often without the target being any the wiser after the event. Smart, informed, enthusiastic, adaptable but ultra-confident in their abilities to manipulate most situations to their own ends… they were more than a little intimidating.

Lizzie was confident that her friends would enjoy the process of taking a group of pubescent boys back to babyhood if for no other reason it would help alleviate the boring bits of a long summer holiday.

Perceptions were changing almost by the minute. What was fun and humiliating one moment was something to be cherished and protected the next. All those involved were amazed at how Sandra’s idea, and the execution of that idea, affected each of them. For some it would be the beginning of a completely new way of life, whilst for others it would point to a different direction to the one they were planning.

All the girls were growing up and with that came a change in their hormonal make-up so, it might not have been as drastic a change as it appeared. Surprisingly, none of the girls realised the changes that were going on with each other and, not dissimilar to the boy’s attitude, kept these minor personal revelations to themselves.

#

Within twenty minutes of each other all the boys had wet their nappies again. None knew it was their ‘special’ lunchtime drink to blame but all could now feel that same drink sloshing warmly around their genitals. As if a pact had been drawn up, none of them said a word, although each had suddenly felt a slight pang in their bladder before the deluge.

As they were embarrassed about wetting themselves so soon after being changed the boys kept quiet and carried on as if nothing had happened. Stupidly, they didn’t realise their plastic protection tightened around the expanding mass underneath so when Lizzie returned, with her well-padded sister, she took one look and ordered them to line up in front of her.

Dee-Dee felt a lot better now she was dry and well protected. Beth, who could now see with her own eyes, the amount of padding her friend was wearing thought she looked like a big toddler.

Dee-Dee didn’t mind the comment; she was just grateful that Lizzie had given in and let her wear her insurance in case it happened again.

Beth stroked the slippery plastic cover and marvelled at the thickness underneath but other than that, they simply got on playing together. Although, at the back of the visiting six year-old’s mind she wondered if she might need similar treatment. She didn’t want it, she was a big girl, but her friend looked so happy so it was inevitable her mind should ponder the prospect.

Meanwhile, the boys didn’t want to go through the embarrassment again. Lizzie was quite happy to leave them until their nappies were even more soaked but Shilpha argued that it was ‘unkind’ to leave them like that, especially as nappy rash was a real possibility. She explained how her younger brother and sister had problems because of being left for too long.

Off course none of this was true she just wanted to make her case so that they could change the boys again and watch them squirm in humiliation as they got to work. She got her way.

There was a mumble of discontent from some whilst others, Dave and Billy, just went ahead and let themselves be changed. This time it was a different girl who saw to their needs.

#

Over the last few days there had been a definite change in Billy’s attitude to what he was being subjected to. Whether this was some mental appreciation of his involvement in it all, or he had simply been beaten down??? Now there was no argument, just simple acquiescence.

It was no longer purely Billy’s fault.

His lifetime’s rejection of any female authority and his fight to prove his own predominance had, in such a short time, been crushed. The bugs in the stomach, the sodden nappies and his childish outbursts had proved he needed his mummy, Lizzie and to a certain extent Dee-Dee, more than he would ever have previously acknowledged.

When he was at his lowest, it was they who had tended keeping him clean and dry and now, well now, he just thought it was the way it ought to be. He was no longer the leader of his little band of eleven year-old tough guys, he’d become what his mother and sisters had intended, their little, cooperative, baby boy.

The humiliation just wasn’t there anymore.

It wasn’t so much he liked it or approved of it; it was just the way things had turned out. It was what it was and his thick nappy and sheer plastic pants merely emphasised that simple fact.

Rebellion, anger and frustration had got him nowhere but now, as he slid his hands over the bulky shiny protection, he had to admit – he didn’t have to fight any more.

Dave of course had been beaten into submission so he wasn’t going to fight what course of action others decided. He knew conflict was a bad and very painful cause to pursue.

Both were changed efficiently but had to bear the childish baby talk the girls inflicted on them (and between themselves) as the jobs were undertaken.

“Whose little pee-pee needs a good wash?” “Who needs his plastic panties then… mmm?” “Who’s a good boy? Yes he is, yes he is.” “Where’s that sweet little Davey? There he is.”

Plus an assortment of other such infantile comments directed at them didn’t raise so much as a frown. In fact, it has to be said that both Dave and Billy had nervously giggled throughout and seemed not to care any more about whom did what, why, when or how.

#

Nancy had taken to Billy and admired his thick protection. She, like Shilpha, thought he looked adorable. With him being so much smaller than the others, his babyish style of dress only emphasised just how cute he looked.

She reflected on how much it suited him and wondered why Lizzie had complained about her noisy and annoying brother in the past. He was a little sweetie and looked every inch as if he should be wrapped in protection on a permanent basis. She enjoyed the process of fitting a clean and dry, but well-padded, nappy in place, tickling his tummy and repeating her puerile cooing as she did so. She only wished she had a dummy or a teddy to give him to play with. Perhaps on her next visit she’d bring a few extra things that might keep her… him amused.

Shilpha had taken to Davey. Out of the four boys he had the aura and façade of a mistreated street urchin. Not that he was dirty or anything, it was just his big brown eyes and worried expression made him a particularly sensitive looking character.

Shilpha loved having complete authority over this eleven year old; to be able to wipe his naked body clean, smear in the various protecting creams and lotions and apply powder to his badly striped bottom (the painful process of how he got to be so subservient was still pretty obvious) made her feel sorry for him. She paid attention to his well-disciplined bottom, making sure the correct rejuvenating and antiseptic cream was applied to those tender looking bruises.

Not that she would ever admit it because despite the girls having all the power, and loving that power, she was more sympathetic than she thought she’d be. Now the reality of them being treated as babies and the work that involved, the actual embarrassment quotient was not quite as important. Perhaps it was their total vulnerability, and now she was charged with care of that vulnerability, it had somehow changed her perceptions.

#

“Mitch, Aaron,” Lizzie said in a very authoritative voice. “I don’t want to put any more black marks against your names today but, if you don’t come over here immediately I shall have no alternative.”

She peered over at Aaron with a concerned look.

“I’m sure your daddy… and mummy,” she made it sound very childish, “will not be happy to see that you were the only one of the group to get so may black marks. I’d hate to think what they’ll do…”

She left that threat hanging there just long enough for Aaron to move over and lay out on the changing mat in front of her.

“That’s better. Just do as you are told and everything will go well.” She swept her hand over the boys. “I don’t want to have to remind anyone again.”

Whatever comments were going through the boy’s minds at that moment can only be guessed because no one said a word.

“Unless of course you prefer a soggy nappy and enjoy walking around in your own wee.”

As the boys wriggled uncertainly, she seemed satisfied at her comments.

“We’re here to help keep you clean and dry so it’s in your best interest to cooperate fully. Do you understand?”

They may have been reluctant to reply but she wanted them to admit who was in charge. Eventually she got a “Yes Lizzie” from all of them.

#

The rest of the afternoon of this first day passed off without any further disruptions. In fact, Summer Camp was all going relatively brilliantly so when the first parent arrived, Aaron’s mum Julia, to take her boy home, she was intrigued to watch for a few moments as her son was smiling and having a pretend tea party with the rest of the group.

It had been a little game that Beth had suggested and so as to keep on Lizzie (and the black marks) good side, all of them had indulged the six year-old. The problem was the older girls were enjoying the silliness of the situation. They all adopted snooty accents pretending they were aristocracy and looking down on the riff-raff before them. The thing was, despite everything, it was all very funny and some of the comments were hilarious and had the boys rolling around in hysterics. It was a great game, which everyone was having fun with.

The thick padding and rustling plastic pants had all but been forgotten as laughter filled the air. It was strange because, the humiliation the older girls had wanted to instil in the boys had also taken a place on the back-burner. Although they were definitely in charge, they were enjoying the occasion as much as the boys were doing. Even their constant inspection didn’t seem to be an intrusion any more. In fact, the boys appeared to like the girls running their hands over the smooth plastic and slipping fingers inside to check. Well, that is except for Mitch who was still a little apprehensive about the entire thing.

As soon as Aaron saw his mother watching he froze. He didn’t want his parents to think he was enjoying the situation and was holding secret thoughts that perhaps, on the drive home, he could convince them to exact another, different punishment.

“Don’t stop sweetie,” she called out to her suddenly sullen looking boy. “I have to speak to Lizzie so you finish your game first.”

She smiled and waved him on as Lizzie and her broke away from the others for a chat.

Aaron looked scared. He’d been disciplined by Lizzie and he knew what that meant, he’d been told enough times.

He saw his mother look over as she spoke to Lizzie and her expression change from one of happiness to one of disappointment.

#

“I’m afraid Mrs Carter that to begin with Aaron didn’t settle in very well. He accrued several black marks for his attitude and swearing and I had to take action. I spanked him.”

Mrs Carter just nodded and looked over at her son.

“I have to say that after that incident he, and the rest of the boys, calmed down and although he wet at nap time, which was expected, he’s been as good as gold since.”

Lizzie finished her update with a reassuring smile but it was obvious that Aaron’s mother had other thoughts in her head.

“He calmed down once he’d been disciplined you say?”

“Yes ma’am. He was very well behaved.”

“OK, his father and I will see that he is no further trouble to you, erm, girls… er… I didn’t know others would be involved…”

“Oh yes. The Summer Camp has a few of my friends volunteering to help and it seems that the boys have reacted well to them.”

“Ohh I see.”

Lizzie wasn’t exactly lying but it also wasn’t quite the truth.

“Yes, we’re all excited about the weeks ahead.”

Julia nodded and gave her a weak smile.

“OK Aaron, time to go. Say good bye to your friends and thank the girls for looking out for you.”

Nervously he got up and made his way over to his mother. His nappy was soaked and the plastic covering bloated out. Oddly, he’d peed in his nappy the moment she had arrived and he could tell from her current expression she was not happy with him. Perhaps he wouldn’t mention a different punishment until he was home and his dad was around.

In silence they set off.

As Aaron wriggled uncertainly in his squishy nappy his mother was glad she had pinned up the timetable on the fridge and his bedroom door. She was determined that he would obey each and every bit of what was set down and, after his 7pm bath, his bottom would be that teaching pad.

#

Lizzie saw her mother arrive and greeted her with a hug.

“How’s it all gone sweetheart?”

Lizzie smiled.

“Not bad for a first day…”

They walked over to where the rest of the group were still playing and Sandra looked down on the array of swollen rubber pants. The three remaining boys looking in a much better mood than when she left them and marvelled at how Shilpha and Nancy had got involved.

The smiles on everyone’s face told her it was a job well executed and as she thought this, Billy ran over to give her a huge loving hug.

“Mummeee.”

Dee-Dee followed and said, almost mimicking her brother.

“Mummy.”

Sandra patted both their padded, silky bottoms and kissed the top of their heads.

Mitch and Davey looked up and nervously grinned.

“Hello Mrs Southall.” They chorused.

They were obviously still a little embarrassed by their predicament but appeared to be simply getting on with making the most out of their situation. Besides that, the girls were keeping them occupied and they didn’t want to disappoint them.

Sandra nodded to her eldest. “Well you seem to have everything under control, well done sweetheart.”

Lizzie shared the secret of her success with her mother as she whispered. “All a baby really needs to be happy is a dry nappy”.

Sandra raised her eyebrows.

“Ohh, and a strict routine… just so they know there are limits.” Lizzie added.

Sandra patted her son’s and daughter’s padded bottoms once more and sent them back to play with the others.

Billy’s thick plastic pants identifying his ‘little boy’ status and even the bigger boys appeared to have accepted much of their punishment, crawling around on hands and knees wearing just their thick protection. The entire scene of grown up girls and juvenile boys playing together filled her full of pride.

She sighed in satisfaction.

She hoped it wouldn’t be too long before the girls, Lizzie’s team (she smiled at the thought), would soon be leading the small group of contrite boys on outings into town and beyond. She didn’t want them cooped up in the house and garden for the rest of the school break, that wouldn’t be fair. She also had an idea that they might not be too keen on being out and about wearing their nappies. However, the way things were going, it wouldn’t be too long before the boys realised they didn’t get a say in proceedings and conceded their eleven year-old lives were a thing of the past.

A feeling of accomplishment swept through her body.

She had been right to do what she’d done and, with the continued help of Lizzie and her friends, knew the boys were in firm but understanding hands. Nappies and plastic pants had been the solution to reining in unsocial behaviour and it didn’t hurt that they looked so innocent and sweet as a result.

She looked across at the washing line and saw Billy’s nappies and plastic pants flapping in the late afternoon breeze and couldn’t help but think it was a price that had been worth paying. She’d got her little boy back.

She didn’t get the opportunity to question for how long when her phone rang.

Edward the chemist informed her that a fresh batch of innovative protection had arrived and… wanted to meet up as he had some exciting new proposals.

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 10

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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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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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The baby business Part 16

Copyright (c) 1995 by Babydoc.

Doug stood quietly and watched as Mrs. Warren pulled out of her large black purse what looked like a changing pad. He had to admit to himself that this woman was always prepared. She must have known that she’d catch him, and had come with everything she’d need to put a diaper on him, he thought. And if he was going to have to lay down on this bathroom’s floor to be changed, he was actually pleased at the prospect of using a changing pad.

But she didn’t spread it out on the floor. He grew sort of confused as he watched her smooth it out on her lap. He’d never heard of being changed on someone’s lap, but it *was* a small bathroom, and he *was* new to this. When the pad seemed well-smoothed out, Mrs. Warren addressed him sharply.

“Alright, little boy. Get those pants down around your ankles.”

Doug said, “Yes, Mommy,” trying to stay on her good side. She didn’t seem to be getting any less angry, which worried him a bit. He obeyed quickly, telling himself this was obviously a necessary step before he could be diapered.

“Come face me,” she said shortly. He shuffled over to her. How was this going to work?

“Hand me the diaper now, Doug.” So he held it out to her with his left hand. She’ll clearly need that, he thought.

“The *other* hand,” she said, annoyed.

That’s odd, he thought, as he obediently switched the diaper to his right hand and held it out to her. Why should that make a difference?

He found out very quickly. Mrs. Warren reached out with her left hand and took the diaper from his right, as she simultaneously reached across her body with her other hand to grasp his outstretched wrist. In a smooth, strong, and practiced motion, she yanked on his right arm, turning him, throwing him off balance, and directing his fall across her lap perfectly. In the space of two seconds Doug was surprised to find himself suddenly staring at the bathroom floor. He saw Mrs. Warren set the diaper aside, and it dawned on him that she had something else entirely on her mind. It became clearer why she wanted the changing pad on her lap… But this shouldn’t be happening, he thought. They’d had a deal.

“Hey!” he yelled in frustration. “That’s not fair! I took the bet!”

“And you lost, little boy. So you get a spanking. Don’t you remember your rules? By taking the bet you simply prevented this from happening out there in the aisle where you wet your pants. Would you rather we do this out in the store where everyone can see what a bad baby boy you’ve been?”

Pause. SMACK! Oops. He’d thought it was a rhetorical question. “No.”

SMACK! “No, what?”

“No, Mommy. I’m sorry.”

“That’s better. Now let’s have a little discussion about your behavior today. Why don’t you start by explaining to me what you’ve done wrong since the last time I saw you.”

He hated her. She was going to draw this out and make it even more humiliating than it already was. But he wasn’t really in a position to argue. So he told the floor in front of him. “I, um, took off my diaper, Mommy.”

“Yes, and what else?”

“I, well, I went out without telling you.”

“That’s right. And does that make you a good little boy or a bad little boy?”

“Bad.” SMACK! “I’m a bad little boy, Mommy.”

“That’s true. And what do little boys like you need when they’re bad?”

“They need a spanking, Mommy.”

“So what do *you* need right now, Doug?”

“I need a spanking, Mommy.” He was embarrassed and angry. Never in his wildest dreams did he ever think he’d hear himself say something like that.

“That’s also true. And how many spankings do you think you need?”

Doug’s blood ran cold. What!? She ought to be kidding, but so far, Mrs. Warren hadn’t kidded around very much. “I think I’d like *one* spanking, Mommy,” Doug said hopefully.

SMACK! SMACK! Guess not, he thought. Damn. “I need two spankings, Mommy,” he said, aware that he’d begun to whimper a little. This was worse than he could have imagined. If that spanking last week was “one,” what must “two” be like?

“That’s right, Doug. You need two spankings because you broke two different rules today. For my convenience, I’m just going to combine them into one long spanking, though. Now, just as a reminder, after our spanking, do we get to rub our bottom with our hands?”

“No, Mommy.” Shit. He’d forgotten about that.

“Why not?” Mrs. Warren asked with a little sadistic glee.

“So it will hurt more,” Doug answered obediently. This was so horrible. And worse, his appreciation grew for the fact that he could never, ever tell anyone what he’d been through. It was too embarrassing almost to think about. No one would believe him. How would he get his real life back?

“That’s a good boy. I know you can’t hold on to chair legs here, so just keep your hands down and out of the way. Any questions?”

Yeah, he thought. What did I ever do to deserve this? To her, he managed a weak, “No, Mommy.”

And his bottom tingled with expectation as he remembered vividly the pain from last week. He cursed himself again for having tried such an unnecessary prank. Never again, he promised himself as the spanking began. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! The pain was unbearable right from the beginning, and the knowledge that it would not soon stop and the humiliation and stress he’d already endured caused Doug to start crying almost immediately. Unfortunately, Mrs. Warren actually seemed annoyed by this, and she redoubled her efforts to paddle his bottom. He sobbed, and she spanked mercilessly, until they were both out of breath. When it had lasted longer than Doug thought possible, Mrs. Warren stopped and stood him up.

Tears streaming down his face, Doug’s hands immediately and instinctively made their way to his red, hot bottom. He rubbed it as he cried, trying to overwhelm the searing pain that still raged through his rear end. Mrs. Warren reached over, grabbed one of his arms, now limp as spaghetti from his ordeal, swung him around and swatted him several times again.

“No touching, little boy,” she fumed. “Do it again and we can start over from the beginning.”

Doug fought through his tears to find the energy to say “Yes, Mommy,” and to obey, but he managed by holding his arms stiffly down at his sides. All he could think about was how much his bottom hurt, how miserable he was, and how much he hated Mrs. Warren. He was oblivious to Mrs. Warren as she now spread out the changing pad on the floor and laid his diaper out on top of it. She gently guided him down to it, positioned his abused bottom over the back of the diaper and had him lay down. He allowed her to lift his legs, rub some lotion on his hot skin, and sprinkle him with a generous amount of powder before lowering his legs, pulling the diaper through, and taping him up tightly.

He was beginning to stop crying as she stood him up. But he still had no energy to resist her as she did something intended to embarrass him even further once they left this room: she tucked his shirt deep inside his diaper, and pulled the diaper’s waist up as high as it would go. When she pulled his still-wet pants back up and buckled them, about two inches of diaper were clearly visible above his jeans. Doug didn’t even notice.

Mrs. Warren folded up her changing pad and put it away, then brushed off her strong hands. That had been exhilarating and, as always, excellent exercise. But she wasn’t done with Doug today.

Doug was close to getting his sniffles under control as Mrs. Warren unlocked and opened the door. Several employees who had apparently been hovering just outside, entertained by the sound of Doug’s spanking, dispersed rapidly. Doug stepped out into the service hallway and was acutely aware of how his diaper insulated his still-hot bottom, so that the heat amplified the continued pain he felt. His legs, on the other hand, were ice-cold and wet from his soaked jeans. He felt completely miserable. But he had another embarrassing ordeal to withstand, if he didn’t want another spanking, so Doug dutifully took the mop and bucket he saw waiting in the hall, and slowly wheeled them toward Aisle #3, where a small “SLIPPERY WHEN WET” sign had been placed near the puddle he’d made not half an hour ago.

People he passed whispered and stared, but Doug almost didn’t care now. He tried to shut out the outside world, though his inside world wasn’t any more comforting.

Mrs. Warren followed at a short distance, keeping a watchful eye on her charge, but he was behaving well. It was then that she knew that while he obviously had an enjoyable little rebellious streak in him, he also would probably end up being one of her best clients. He had a little fight in him, to make it fun, but he also had some common sense, too, and knew when to quit.

Doug mopped quietly. The first time he looked down, he caught sight of the diaper protruding so blatantly from his pants, and it didn’t take much to realize that it had been done on purpose. He glanced at Mrs. Warren, who had observed his discovery, and she smiled at him slightly. He took a deep breath and kept mopping. There was simply nothing he could do about it. His bottom hurt more than enough already.

When he’d finished and returned the mop and bucket to the back hallway, Mrs. Warren guided him back to the manager’s office. On the way she told him what she wanted him to say.

“Ma’am,” Doug started politely, when the manager came over with an amused smile on her face, “I just wanted to apologize for wetting myself here in your store, and for making that puddle over there. I, um, cleaned it all up. I, um, just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“That’s good,” the manager observed. “I heard quite a racket back there in that bathroom where you two were. Do you think you learned a lesson?”

Doug coughed with embarrassment, and looked toward Mrs. Warren, who returned his glance with a questioning look. “Uh, yes, ma’am. I, um, promise it will never happen again.” He was sure of this.

“And how can I be sure of that?” the manager inquired.

“Well,” said Doug, “I’m wearing a, um, well, a…diaper now.”

“Oh, yes, I see,” she replied, pretending to notice for the first time. “Note quite ready for big boy pants, are we?” she said, as if to a three-year-old.

This was so degrading, being treated like this. But he had no choice but to humor these women. “Uh, no, ma’am, I guess not.” He noticed Mrs. Warren giving him a meaningful glance.

“Oh, and I wanted to ask you if I might be allowed to finish grocery shopping now,” he remembered to ask.

“I guess that would be alright,” the manager said, looking to Mrs. Warren, who was nodding at her, for her answer, the way strangers will often do with a child and his parent. “As long as your Mommy thinks you’ve learned a lesson, and are wearing a diaper like a good little baby boy.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Doug murmured, his bottom and face burning from the spanking and the embarrassment. “And may I please have permission to shop here in the future?”

“Hmmm,” the manager said thoughtfully. “Yes, you may, if you come wearing a diaper which is at all times visible, such as you’re wearing now, so that my employees and I can tell the big boys from the little ones like you. Also, I’d like for you to check in here when you first get here so that I can tell an employee to keep an eye on you. Any puddles, misbehavior, or even so much as a wet spot on your jeans will be dealt with very harshly, young man. My children will tell you that I can warm a fanny with the best of them.” She smiled warmly at Mrs. Warren, who smiled back appreciatively.

“And one more thing. I want you to bring a spare diaper with you, in case there is a leakage problem. I can find one of my staff to change you, or I can certainly do it myself. Okay?”

Doug nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”

“That’s a good baby,” the manager said, and winked at Mrs. Warren, who was deeply impressed. She’d actually never been to this store or met this woman before, but this stranger seemed to have a natural understanding for what was going on. Mrs. Warren began to think more of her boys would shop here in the future. What a pleasant surprise.

Doug resumed shopping grimly. The rest of the trip was excruciating, and dreadfully slow, so he had time to consider what had just happened. He’d just set himself up for weekly humiliation and public embarrassment, and had thanked the lady for it. The manager’s attitude had shocked and disappointed Doug as much as it had pleased and surprised Mrs. Warren, and he was now questioning whether everyone would approve of how he was being treated if they knew about his situation. It was weird that one of these people didn’t object to his being spanked and diapered. (Doug had no way of knowing that he’d simply had the misfortune of encountering another relatively unusual woman; his ignorance made him begin to wonder whether there was more of this kind of thing going on than he had previously been aware of. Any uncertainty about this on Doug’s part simply made Mrs. Warren’s job easier, so she would have been pleased.) Well, he thought, thank goodness for the fact that this store is out of the way. He’d never seen any of his friends shopping here, and that was the only aspect of today’s experience he was happy about.

One thing was for sure, thought, he knew. He wasn’t soon going to try to disobey Mrs. Warren again. His bottom throbbed with the heat and pain from his spanking, and the various glances of curiosity and disgust from the other shoppers continued to drive home how misguided this attempt at rebellion had been. Well, he was reformed now, out of necessity more than desire, and he was going to be a good little boy for as long as he could help it, no matter how embarrassing it would be. Embarrassment was better than embarrassment *and* pain. He would do anything to avoid living through another day like today.

Which was exactly what Mrs. Warren wanted, of course. And she had been doing this long enough to recognize the determined look that now shone in Doug’s eye. She smiled. This had been a successful venture today, and one that would probably carry her new client through several good weeks of what she considered diaper-training for the future. The next thing she’d probably have to deal with from Doug were his hormones. She smiled. Mrs. Warren could handle that, too.

Copyright (c) 1995 by Babydoc.

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

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Luxe bedwetting – Satuki_rabbit

Poor Luxe looks like he is going to need to start wearing some protection here. He sure have one big wet spot on his bed and cloths now.

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The baby business part 9

Copyright (c) 1995 by Babydoc.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay,” Doug said unconvincingly.

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

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

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

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

Copyright (c) 1995 by Babydoc.

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

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Could Have Been Avoided

Could Have Been AvoidedI… uh… didn’t notice I was pissing. I loved these Jammies.

Avian, draw and text by ZuAgo

Source: http://www.furaffinity.net/view/17609126/

Poor boy it looks like he have been using his diaper to match so it have starting to leak pretty bad. Maybe he should get up and change the diaper and the bed sheets before they get to wet and he maybe end up whit another wetting accident and the diaper dont seems like it can handle more accident now.

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