Wet pants

Kenny Part 10

This story is written by Les Lea

Kenny led me to the nurse’s office. I felt silly, as well as wet, and I didn’t understand why it had happened but my shorts and underwear was soaked and I definitely needed a change of clothes. Nurse Gibbs was an elderly, no-nonsense type of lady who had, according to Kenny, been at the school from before it was built. She knew who most of the kids in her care were but this was my first visit.

“Hello Kenny,” she said on recognising him but immediately realised it wasn’t him that needed attention. “Who have you brought to see me today?”

“Hello Miss Gibbs… erm… this is my friend Simon… erm… he’s had a bit of an accident…”

“He certainly has,” she smiled, “let’s get you out of those and into something … drier.”

Although I would have liked for him to have stayed, she dismissed Kenny as class had started so he had to get back.

“OK Simon, take off your pants.” She was standing right in front of me and I hesitated for a second. “Don’t worry, lots of boys have accidents… I’ll have you fixed and back in class in seconds.”

She moved forwards and unbuttoned and unzipped my shorts and, together with my wet briefs, pulled them to the floor. I thought it was all a bit embarrassing but I had little choice and Nurse Gibbs didn’t seem a lady to mess about. She grabbed some paper towels and roughly dried me down then said that she could see I was getting the beginnings of a rash. She grabbed some lotion and rubbed it in between my legs, around my penis and across my bottom, then took me over to a small table and told me to lie out.


I knew it was a changing table but had no option but to do as I was told and after the thorough way she had applied the lotion, she also made sure that I was amply powdered before she put me in a very tight-fitting disposable. When I stood up she could tell that it only just fit and decided, to be on the safe side, that I needed a bit more protection for the rest of the day. She searched through a draw and produced a pair of cream-colored plastic pants that had pop studs up the sides. She fastened me in them and they were also tight but she was happy that they would keep everything in place. I liked them and the fit… they seemed different to what I’d worn before. Next she searched in a nearby cupboard and produced three pairs of grey shorts for me to try on. The first two were way too small. She said that usually she only deals with smaller children who have accidents so didn’t have a selection for boys my size. It didn’t seem that she was telling me off for being older and wetting myself, just as a sort of apology for not having shorts that fit. However, the third pair, although very tight and very short, I could at least get over my diaper… between us we settled on them.

She put my wet clothes in a plastic bag and, along with them, gave me a note to take home for my mother to read and another to give to my teacher. As I wandered back to class, thankfully I was dry, but everything felt very tight. I hadn’t realised just how short my emergency school shorts were and my plastic pants and diaper could easily be seen bulging out and hanging down at the back. It was too late to do anything about it so I returned to my class, handed Miss Pendle the nurse’s note and took my seat. No one was in any doubt as to what had happened, because, those who hadn’t been there could at least see the diapered proof as I moved around. For a few minutes I was very self-conscious but once we started to do things I forgot all about it and nothing was said.


On the bus home Jake wondered why I’d changed shorts and I told him about having an accident at lunchtime in the cafeteria and I had to go to the nurse to get cleaned up. He thought I must have spilled something and I didn’t correct him… although he thought the bulging diaper was a bit much. A few of the other kids on the bus who didn’t go to our school commented but, I was so used to wearing them by then, their snide comments didn’t worry me. However, one much older boy kept going on and on and I saw that Jake was getting a bit worried. I turned and said something to the bully… in fact I called him a c…. I know it’s a naughty word but I’d heard older kids say it, even though I didn’t know what it meant.
He angrily came charging down the bus aisle and dragged me to my feet. He was very big and I realised I’d better apologise as quickly as possible but before I had chance he began mocking me for using such a word and said:

“The big baby thinks it’s grown up.”

He must have been about 14 or 15 and very large. I was terrified that he might hit me but he ripped down my shorts and jeered at my plastic pants and diaper in front of the entire bus.

“Look,” he screamed to all the kids who were watching, “the baby has already wet itself… no doubt it’s crapping itself as well.”

I could see Jake was crying and I didn’t know what to do. I was very, very scared and to make things worse, I actually had filled my entire diaper.

I just stared at the bully. I couldn’t do anything as I was paralyzed with fear but the driver pulled the bus over and ordered the kid to get off. It was only once the bus had set off again and I’d pulled my damaged shorts up that I could feel that my diaper was very warm… and very messy. I didn’t tell anyone I just hoped that the plastic pants would contain the problem but, the smell became overpowering and some of the kids were complaining… and pointing at ‘Stinky Hudson’. I tried to hug Jake but he just pulled away and I felt terrible. It got worse, because of all the complaints, about half a mile from home the bus driver pulled over and ordered me off as well. Poor Jake also had to get off and as the bus drove away, we could see some of the kids laughing, holding their noses and pulling faces. The long walk home was awful. I was trying to keep my shorts up as the zip had been broken by the bully, Jake wouldn’t speak and I could feel the mess squishing around in my diaper with each step.


Once home, Jake told the story to Auntie Rose, while I went straight to my room. I could hear that she was annoyed that such things happen on a school bus but because of my dejected manner must have known that something else had gone on. I stood in front of my mirror and looked at my reflected image and became very angry. There was such a pain in the pit of my stomach that I didn’t know if I was about to fill my diaper again or that my entire body would explode. The mirror showed me just what the bully had seen, a stupid kid, in a stupid uniform, in stupid shorts, wearing a stupid diaper… I looked like a little kid… no wonder he thought of me as a ‘Big Baby’.

I furiously pulled off my jacket, tie and shirt. My damaged shorts fell to the floor and I angrily kicked them away. The reflection of me showed I was just a Big Baby… wearing a diaper and plastic pants… what else could I be?

Suddenly, I wanted to reject all the things that had plotted to make me that way. I hated my school uniform. I hated the short shorts. I didn’t want to wear diapers again. I didn’t want to go near a pair of plastic pants. I hated the fact that we’d moved to this awful town. I hated mum for not being here and auntie for encouraging me. I hated the onesie and the easy way I’d let auntie feed me with a bottle….uuuurgggg. I hated my recent dreams and, in my head, I blamed Kenny for involving me in all these baby things. It was all Kenny’s fault and I didn’t want to have anything to do with him again. The photo of us at the lake with an arm around each other’s shoulders and smiling just seemed to be mocking me, I swept it off the table and it smashed to the floor. He was no longer my friend. I hated him and his babyish ways.

I was angry and upset. My best friend had betrayed me… making me something I wasn’t… my world was spinning out of control and I didn’t know what to do. Still wearing just my messy diaper and plastic pants I threw myself down onto my bed and cried into my pillow.


I’d only been weeping for a little while when there was a gentle knock on my door and auntie came in. She saw how upset I was but told me I couldn’t lie around in a full diaper and led me towards the bathroom. I didn’t really want to move and I was angry at her as well, but she was correct… even for me the smell was getting too much.

She guided me to the bathroom and started to un-pop the plastic diaper but I pulled away and angrily shouted that ‘I’ll do it… I’m not a baby’.

She looked shocked at my outburst but left me to deal with it. My plastic pants fell to the floor and the full disaster in my diaper was revealed. The mess, the smell, the unpleasantness suddenly made me feel sick and I rushed to the toilet to vomit. I was clinging on to the side of the bowl crying and being sick all at the same time feeling totally dejected.

I was crying for my ‘mummy’. Not something I had called mum for a long time but now I wanted my ‘mummy’ and became inconsolable that she wasn’t here with me. Auntie did her best by stroking my hair and trying to make me feel better but it just wasn’t working and if anything, I was getting more and more hysterical about… everything. The tears were flowing hard and I was screaming incomprehensible things through my huge sobs. I was acting like a baby but had no way to control the desperate feeling that had overtaken me. I sat on the floor, with my head resting against the cool toilet bowl and wept.


Auntie eventually coaxed me into the shower where she sprayed and sponged me until I was clean. My belly was still feeling like it was going to burst but at least the sobbing had stopped. She dried me off and steered me back to my bedroom where she went to my cupboard and started sorting through my pull-ups and diapers. She’d just grabbed a pair of pull-ups, which she didn’t realise made me very angry, and I shouted ‘No’ at her. I strode over to my drawer, pulled out a pair of tightie-whities and put them on, determined that my days of diapers, pull-ups and all the things that Kenny loved now had no place in my life. For the past few months, because it was so hot, I’d lived most of my time in just shorts but now I made a determined effort to find my jeans and wear those from that moment on.

The evening meal was a very bad-tempered affair. When auntie tried to bring up the subject of the bully I screamed at her, which upset Jake but I wasn’t bothered, I was too angry to think about anyone but me. I didn’t even thank auntie before I left the table and returned to my room. I turned on the Xbox and was determined to get to a high level before bed time but I kept making stupid mistakes. I angrily threw the controller down in frustration and tried to find something else to occupy my mind. My school backpack was the next to feel my anger because when I opened it I found the plastic bag with my shorts and briefs, which just reminded me of what a terrible day it had been. I threw them and the note at the ripped shorts that were already in a heap in the corner, then noticed the ‘baby’ stuff in my cupboard and dragged all that to the floor.


It was morning when I woke up and auntie was gently shaking my shoulder and telling me to get ready for school. I told her I didn’t want to go but she very firmly told me it wasn’t an option and to get myself ready immediately. A great deal of the anger had left me and I knew that auntie wouldn’t let me get away with being rude a second time so I meekly began to change out of the clothes, which I had apparently slept in. At some point in the night auntie must have come in, tidied up all the mess, and got my stuff ready for the day ahead. My jacket was spotless and pressed, a new, freshly ironed shirt hung over the chair, my shorts were all clean and dry and a pair of my white briefs topped the pile. I really didn’t want to get dressed but auntie was shouting we were late, and with the memory of my shouting at her last night, I felt a little guilty and knew I had no alternative.

I pulled on my briefs and wandered to the bathroom where Jake was just finishing his morning routine. He was already dressed but looked worried as he asked if I was OK. I nodded that I was and gave him a half smile, which was greeted by an even bigger one from him as he rushed past me to breakfast. I looked in the mirror and saw dark circles under my eyes… I looked awful but a quick dunk under the cold water tap and a cold-water wash instantly relieved my pastiness.


Auntie had repaired the broken zip on the shorts, washed and dried the plastic pants and gave them to me to return, ‘with thanks’, to the nurse. As we were running a little late she said that she would drive us to school to make it a bit easier but I really think it was to make sure I went. I really wished I could have worn my jeans I just wasn’t comfortable in shorts any more but school rules meant that all students, certainly of my year, had no option. However, throughout the day I kept avoiding Kenny and any conversation about my ordeal on the bus and just wished I could get home soon and change into something more ‘age appropriate’ and less childish.

At lunchtime, when Kenny suggested we go up to the playing fields to eat, I made some excuse and went off to speak to someone else. In fact, every time he came near me I tried to ignore him or moved away or found something I just had to get on with. His usually smiling face and bright eyes changed throughout the day and I could see he was getting a bit worried about my attitude. I was glad I was hurting him. It was his fault I was bullied and his fault I had so easily slipped into being a big baby… yes my problems were the result of him being my friend. No more would I be fascinated by his diapers… in fact… if I never saw another diaper again, it would be too soon. My interest in them was now zero and my interest in Kenny was the same.


The following day the pattern was repeated as I went out of my way to make it clear I was totally ignoring him. There was a sad look in his eyes and at recess I saw him talking to Jake. I wanted to go over and break that up but that would have meant talking, or at least, being in Kenny’s company and I wanted to avoid that. In gym I had noticed that Kenny was back to wearing briefs and there had been no hint of padding for a couple of days but, he had told me he wanted to be a baby, so, I didn’t want him as a friend.

He tried several times to talk to me about the bully but I moved away or talked about something else. I was doing my best to ignore him but in a class of 20 it was impossible to not be close at some point. In one lesson we were paired up by the teacher for a project and Kenny kept asking… what he had done to upset me.

Through clenched teeth I told him: “You… and your baby thing… are ruining my life.” He looked bewildered. “You’ve made me like stuff… and I don’t want to any more… I don’t want to be your friend.”

The last comment really hit home and I saw the concern in his eyes change to real hurt. He was looking at the ground when, after a few seconds, he replied “I’d be your friend even if you didn’t like those things…”

I didn’t let him finish, I got up and told the teacher I felt ill and needed to see the nurse. I left Kenny looking very sad and confused.


That night mum arrived back from her trip to the capital very tired but with some ‘special news’. Both Jake and I made a huge fuss of her and I think auntie was pleased she had someone else to share my moodiness with. Over our evening meal mum told us that the conference and the meetings had all gone well but that there was something she needed to discuss with us.

“Would you boys like to live in the capital?” She said with a hint of worried excitement.

Both Jake and I looked at her and wondered what she meant. “Permanently?” I asked.

“I suppose. They’ve offered me a promotion to Head Office… so we’d have a nice big place…”

Jake was concerned. “What about my friends?”

In the time we’d been at Oakland he’d proved to be very popular. For much of the time we’d only see him for meals and bedtime as he’d be out on his bike, skateboard or playing some game with his group of other 3rd and 4th Graders.

“Well,” mum started to say “you’ll be able to make new friends… you did when we came here… and they…”

“But I don’t want to leave,” Jake whined. “I like it here.”

Mum looked over at me to add something. “I don’t care. Here, there… where ever…” and shrugged my shoulders.

“What about your friends? Kenny…?”

“I don’t have any friends here so…” I made a face trying to show I was disinterested.

Mum looked across at her sister for some kind of explanation but auntie just made a face of resignation.

Jake was getting more upset and started to sob. “… but… I don’t want to go anywhere. It’s not fair.”

Mum tried to console him but he burst into tears. “It’s not fair. It’s not…”

I suppose mum knew this might happen so looked at me for some kind of response but I just sat there totally unsympathetic to Jake’s pain. She told him that it was a great opportunity for her and that we’d be in a lovely area… and at a new school, which was a lot larger than Oakland so there would be more kids his age to meet and make friends with. It was having no effect on Jake who ran off to his room and slammed the door.

I asked if I’d have to wear shorts at this new school but she looked annoyed at my question and said she didn’t know but why did it matter? I was silent and just looked down at my empty plate as my reply. Mum knew that there was something going on and as I wasn’t very forthcoming asked me to go to my room as she wanted to talk to auntie in private. I shrugged and went to play on my Xbox.


Mum and auntie were talking for a long time and as it was late I got myself ready for bed, the onesies and pull-ups forgotten as I put on my t-shirt and boxers. I think mum came in at some point as I felt her kiss my head but I was too drowsy to say anything. However, that night I had the worst dream I ever had and it concerned Jake and Kenny. There were both in trouble and I just watched, deciding to do nothing rather than help. When, in my dream, they were being dragged to their deaths, I screamed out in terror as I knew I could have prevented it.

Mum and auntie both came in to my room roused by my shriek of horror, I was crying, very agitated and my bed was wet through. Mum held me as I tried to settle down but I was overcome with emotion because of what I did… or didn’t do. Eventually mum got me settled but decided that both the bed and I needed changing. As auntie stripped the bed and put on new bedding, mum took me to the bathroom to help me change. I wasn’t in a state of mind to be worried as mum stripped me, dried me off, powdered me and was about to put me in pull-ups when I screamed “NO” at her.


“Simon.” She said sternly. “You can stop that now.” She looked determined. “You’ve wet the bed and this is just a precaution… and whether you like it or not… this is what you are going to wear.”

I kicked and squirmed and screamed my defiance. “Stop that now.” She must have told me loads of times but I wasn’t going to be put into diapers or pull-ups ever again so I fought and made more noise. Mum warned me several times that if I continued I’d be punished but I still wouldn‘t let her put me in the pull-ups. Eventually, and out of shear frustration she pulled me over her lap and delivered half a dozen swats with her hand to my naked bottom.

I’d never been spanked in my life and was completely shocked by what had happened. My tantrum stopped to be replaced by real tears as the effects of my smacked bum kicked in. I froze, and in those moments mum tugged the pull-ups into place then hugged me tightly. It was strange because although I was crying at my stinging bottom, my defiance had left me and I just wanted to be cuddled by my mum. She held me and rocked gently until I calmed down and then she carried me back to my freshly made bed.

“Simon,” she said as she tucked me in and stroked my hair, “you have had a terrible experience with a bully.” So auntie had told her all about that incident, “but you are a good boy. You’re thoughtful and a good friend. Don’t let a nasty boy change who you are.”

She continued stroking my hair and speaking in a very quiet voice. “I was worried when we came to Oakland that it would all be too much of a disruption for you and Jake but, you have both thrived here. You’ve both made terrific friends and you’ve both improved at school and I couldn’t be more proud of the way you’ve turned out.”

Mum’s soothing words were lodging in my head… it was the same as auntie had said; “Don’t change… be a free spirit”, that’s when it hit me and I realised that the bully had made me ‘change’. It wasn’t about being a baby or anything else for that matter, it was about me being who I was… and I liked who I was. With mum back and in charge and, despite my sore bottom, I felt safe. I forgot she’d put me back into pull-ups because I was feeling relaxed, comfortable and padded so soon fell into a deep sleep.


I woke up wet. Not very wet but my pull-up was more than a little damp and I was glad I’d worn it to soak up my leaking. After I’d showered and returned to my room all my school clothes were arranged on the chair as usual except my underwear. Mum was letting me decide what I wanted to wear to school and for the first time in a few days, I wasn’t anxious about it. I went to my underwear draw and saw that the plastic pants were there as well as my usual briefs and boxers. I looked in my cupboard and, although I’d chucked them all over the floor earlier, the pull-ups, diapers and assorted other things were neatly stacked up. Even the cloth diapers were all washed and arranged ready for use, if and when, they might be needed… or wanted. I decided, since I had wet twice overnight that a little bit of protection might be a good idea so I pulled on two pairs of pull-ups and my plastic pants. It felt really good to be padded and snug as I pulled on my shorts.

At breakfast I wasn’t checked and nothing was said about my antics the night before, apparently Jake had slept right through it all, and auntie offered to drive us to school again. Jake looked across at me but I said that I’d rather catch the bus if it was alright by everyone. Both mum and auntie smiled, while Jake gave a little worried grimace. Oddly enough, when some of the other kids mentioned the stink from last time I made a joke about it and, with everyone laughing, the problem seemed to have passed. The bully wasn’t a passenger so that made it a bit easier and we arrived at school none the worse for the journey.

Next I noticed Kenny wearing a rather thick and obvious diaper under his shorts. As I approached he looked half scared but I pulled up the leg of my shorts to show him my plastic protection and shouted as loud as I could “Snap.” He giggled his infectious giggle and his face lit up like before.

“Bad night?” he beamed.

“The worst,” I replied returning his smile. “Wet, spanked, cried and diapered.”

“Sounds like a good night to me.” He laughed, then realising exactly what I had said he questioned, “Spanked?”

“Yep…” I said as we were entering the classroom, “I’ll tell you all about it at recess.”

This story is written by Les Lea

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 9

Chapter 11

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Auntie Joan Part 9

This story is written by Les Lea

The night before school my mind had been working overtime. All I could think (and partially dream) about was my life at the different ‘educational’ establishments I’d attended since I was young. Alas, as I tossed and turned with each invading reflection, the thick night time diaper that held me tightly didn’t offer the soft comfort I’d come to expect.


At three years old I had been potty trained by my mother and then, with her part in my development done, sent off into the world. At that first ‘nursery/crèche/kindergarten’, I have no idea what it was, but what I did eventually get to know was that I was away from my ‘loving’ mommy and daddy and not a happy child. My first and main recollection from that time was that I wet myself constantly. The people looking after me seemed to focus on the fact I was wetting rather than the why and so kept me in diapers the entire time I was there.
In between brief visits from my parents, after which I would cry for days, I was kept clean and fed but for me, and the other toddlers (I was not alone), each day followed the same timetable; a diet of dynamic learning, followed by unhappiness, followed by more learning. If we played at all… that particular memory escapes me… but that austere and unloving place literally scared the shit out of me. As if to prove it, my potty training reversed and my diaper was constantly full.


In those half-dreams and fevered recollections I could still feel that dense rough diaper irritating with each movement. Together with the noisy crack of the thick, almost unyielding plastic pants that held it in place felt like I was encased in granite.
I wriggled unhappily under my nursery print covers, thankful at least auntie always made sure my protection was soft and comfortable, though, because of my agitated dreams, at that moment I wasn’t particularly enjoying such consideration.


When I reached the age of five I was moved to another private school. It took pride in the fact its ‘student’ body was prepared for senior school and so, ‘education, education, education’ was its main (and I would say only) priority. Here at least I wasn’t kept in scratchy diapers, which to some degree I eventually grew out of with just an occasional nocturnal lapse. However, the school wasn’t equipped for these little lapses and I (like anyone else who suffered a wet night) was ridiculed and ostracised and made to wear protection in class for the entire following day. The other kids never let such an opportunity pass so I was fair game for any grade to mock and be made fun of. By the time I was approaching my tenth birthday I’d learned to hide any toiletry hiccups so to all intents and purposes I’d grown out of that ‘problem’. At the same time my abilities were recognised when academically at least I easily came top of the class.
This was when my parents broke the news that I was to sit another exam in the UK to further my education. Stupidly I assumed they would be in England too, it wasn’t to be.


These dreams, thoughts and often unpleasant images raced through my active brain whether I was asleep or awake and by morning I was severely wet and half dead to the world.


The morning wasn’t helped after auntie stripped me out of my soaked protection but, after a shower, the ritual I so looked forward to was denied. Not that auntie would do anything to upset me but, this was a new opportunity that I was encouraged to take. So, no lotions or powders or soft fluffy disposable taped snugly into place. No slinky vinyl slowly fed up my legs, slipping deliciously over my thighs to grip my waist in a welcoming manner. The nursery held the clothes I wanted but the clothes I was to wear were in the ‘other room’ and I had to fortify myself from that moment – I had to get back into teenage mode.

Of course auntie had laid out my wardrobe for the day; right on top was a little pair of pull-ups that we’d spoken about. She knew I was a bit nervous about staying dry so we agreed to this little ‘help’ to be worn under my underpants. It wasn’t the same but their slight rustle and full crotch was most welcome under the rest of my school clothes.


I caught the bus to school like so many other kids and, apart from one or two who knew me and were whispering, looking and giggling in my direction, the journey passed off without much to report.
I’d entered the school grounds with a slight crinkle and a great deal of apprehension. I saw Yoosuf talking to a group of girls, waved and then looked around for the familiar face of Oliver but couldn’t see him.


There was no set ‘uniform’, social or educational, and everyone appeared to be wearing what they liked. I’d chosen a pair of fawn coloured chinos over my slight protection, a green polo shirt, trainers and had my backpack slung over one shoulder… I thought I blended in quite well. Not overly smart but not slovenly either. There were several boys wearing shorts, but nearly all wore them long and baggy so definitely not my style. The girls were a completely different story and seemed to form into groups who all dressed the same. However, that was just a first impression as I gazed around at my new school buddies. Then I spied a familiar face coming through a group of noisy students who were standing at the gate.


He was nodding to everyone, even folk I suspect he didn’t know, but when our eyes met he waved and made straight towards me. The thing was I was spellbound. He was wearing a pair of khaki shorts and an AC/DC t-shirt… it was a young Colin come to life from one of the images in auntie’s photo album.
Stunned by this apparition I couldn’t move. I wanted to say something, I wanted to greet my friend, I wanted to acknowledge, well, I wasn’t sure what – because for that one shocking moment Oliver looked exactly like Colin, the only difference from the photo was the logo on the t-shirt.
He came up and hugged me like a long lost friend and I was so overcome, my bladder gave way and I pissed my pants. Not just a little, but a flow so strong that it deluged my pull-up and a tell-tale stain radiated from my groin.
If it hadn’t been for Oliver’s quick action the first impression I would have made at school was as a pants wetter.


He was surprised that I didn’t reciprocate the hug but when he pulled back he noticed my pants. Quick as a flash, and before anyone else could see, he pulled off his backpack and held it in front of my rapidly expanding stain. To be honest, I wasn’t really aware of what I’d done and it wasn’t until Oliver was guiding me towards the main building that I realised what had happened. The spreading damp radiating from my groin was not the nicely warming experience it would have been in a diaper.
I was full of apologies but Oli just smiled and said, “Wow, nobody’s ever been that pleased to see me.”
He seemed to know his way around the school and we ended up at the nurse’s office. She came out to see who her first patient of the day was and, as the bell had just gone, dismissed Oli back to

class. I sat there trying to explain how I was taken by surprise by his enthusiastic hug but the nurse, Nurse Jefferson, wasn’t convinced.
She noticed something that no one else had mentioned. She said that I spoke like a little boy. Well, to be honest, she didn’t say that exactly but the way she responded to my words left me in no doubt. I hadn’t realised that my speech had been so defined by my time at Rainbow and I suppose, those who knew me, especially auntie, just thought that’s the way I spoke. It hadn’t bothered me until Nurse Jefferson mentioned it but now I was at High School, with wet pants and sounding like a baby… things definitely needed to change.


My pants were a mess and there was no way I could walk around school looking like I did. She spoke to someone on the phone, who I assumed was the principal, checked something on her computer and then phoned auntie. My pull-up hadn’t been as efficient as hoped and I could see Nurse Jefferson wondering what action to take.
Before she had chance to come to any conclusion the phone rang and she was obviously receiving further information as she kept looking up at me and agreeing to what was being said down the phone.
“Oh I see.” She listened
“Right.” There was more.

“Well that explains…” Something was said and agreed upon.
She eventually wandered over and asked in a soft cajoling whisper you’d use with an infant if I needed any help and did I want a change.
I was taken by surprise at her suggestion, and even though at that particular moment I would have loved a change, the thought of a fluffy disposable hugging my groin making me wriggle in anticipation, I said “No”. I didn’t want it to get around that on my first day I’d wet my pants, had to see the nurse and she’d diapered me. I needed to keep that a secret for a while longer… or so I thought.


Not long after auntie arrived with a bag of dry clothes but before I could change we were called into the principal’s office. He seemed a nice man but was obviously a little perplexed at what he was reading; it was a report from the psychiatrist.
I’d not thought this far ahead and for the second time that day I was shocked, with the result that, unfortunately, I wet myself even more. This was not going well and I couldn’t fathom where all this pee was coming from. As the dark stain on my chinos spread further the principal noticed and requested I immediately go and see the nurse while he and auntie talked.
Auntie passed me the bag with my clean clothes and I reluctantly left the room clutching it tightly to my groin for the few yards journey to the nurse’s office.


When I arrived she was very business-like.
“Right, let’s get you organised and into something dry shall we?”
I knew I looked like a stupid little kid, which of course I normally didn’t mind, but confronted by this particular lady, I felt feeble and inadequate. The folk at Rainbow just changed me like they would any other infant but here, at High School, I was no longer a happy, playful toddler but a teenage student who’d wet his pants.
“Take off your pants,” she paused, “or would you prefer I do it?”
There was no malice in her voice just a question.

Since I’d been with auntie I was used to doing as instructed so slowly unbuttoned the top of my chinos and let them drop to the floor.
She could see the expanded pull-up bulging out behind my underpants and indicated they needed to come off as well.
Standing there in my soggy pull-up and stained underpants it just didn’t feel real. I hadn’t been wearing any extra plastic protection so my pee had not been well contained. Being changed at Rainbow (or at home) was a process I wasn’t involved in, somebody else made the decision and it just happened. My involvement was…
She pulled the squelchy mass down.

“OK Dean, I’m going to clean you up, then rub in some lotion, powder and fit a diaper… any questions?”
I just shrugged. I was in a sort of dream world, which I knew I liked but at that moment found particularly alien.


She had me lie out on a low table, which I wasn’t sure could support my weight but, as she’d covered the entire thing in a loose piece of blue absorbent paper (I’d seen something similar on the doctor’s examination table), I did as I was told.
“Good boy,” she said as I climbed up, my naked lower half reacting to the cool air conditioning of her office.
“Now I’ll just check the bag and see what mommy, er, Miss Marsden has brought.”
Jeans, a clean shirt, socks and a fresh pair of boxers were laid out on another table, eventually she found what she was searching for, a fresh disposable.
“Ah, here we go.”

She slowly and meticulously unfurled it and slipped it under my bottom. There was a look of understanding on her face and it suddenly struck me that she might know of my parent’s dramatic death and was being sympathetic. She then reached for some wipes, lotion and powder, which she conscientiously applied to my hair-free pubic area before fastening me in.
I’m not sure how many fourteen year-old boys she’d had to diaper in her time as a nurse but as she cleaned me up I thought she smiled and nodded approval at my a/c shrunken pee-pee and hairless genital area.

“Mmmm sensible… and no sign of a rash… good, good.” She said half to herself and half to me.
She smoothed in the lotion and my pee-pee began to react but, like the ladies at Rainbow, it was completely ignored as she pulled the disposable into place. Any raging hormones that a healthy teenage boy might have were dismissed as I was really just a ‘little boy’ so treated as such.
Once I was tightly enclosed she delved into the bag once more and found a pair of opaque plastic pants, which she shuffled up my legs. She did it all with such care that I found myself relaxing and beginning to enjoy her attention. After that was completed she had me sit up and checked that everything fitted correctly; smoothing the plastic pants down over the diaper and making sure I was well tucked in and leak-proof.


She stood back to appreciate her work and smiled. Whether that was because of a job well done or the fact that my slinky plastic pants could be seen dangling below my polo shirt I wasn’t too sure.
“OK Dean,” she seemed satisfied, “put the rest of your clothes back on and put the wet stuff in this plastic bag.”
She indicated a black bin bag on another table.
“Sit over there and wait until the principal and your mommy, er, Miss Marsden finish their conversation.”
Perhaps she wasn’t being sympathetic about the death of my parents, maybe she thought she was dealing with a teenager who was somewhat ‘challenged’. She spoke to me as if I was slow, or a toddler and I moved from enjoying the process to resenting it a bit.
Although I was happier now I was padded and protected I wondered about how late I was for my first class. What excuse could I come up with? What did anyone know? Had anyone noticed? What, if anything, has Oliver said? Perhaps more importantly, would anyone notice my padded butt?
“Don’t I need to be in class?” I queried.
“Yes you do but the principal will need to have a word before you go.”


Ten minutes later and auntie emerged from the principal’s office looking worried.
“Are you OK sweetie?” She was concerned about me.
I nodded and looked down at my padded crotch and shrugged.
Nurse Jefferson smiled and said that I’d been a very co-operative boy and that everything had been taken care of and, if the principal had finished with me, I needed to get to class.
There was a slight rustling sound as I got to my feet and auntie hugged me and patted my cushioned bottom. She rubbed it slightly and I felt most reassured by both the padding and auntie’s tender touch.

She looked at me and said we’d talk when I got home. I was a bit apprehensive as it looked like she had something serious to say but getting to my new class was made a priority as the principal’s secretary came out with a note I had to give to the teacher.


“Sorry I’m late sir,” I handed Mr Brown the note, “I’m afraid I had to see the principal first…”
I wanted to say more, to come up with a plausible excuse but he just nodded to a seat next to Oliver and thanked me for being polite.
I hadn’t realised I had been but I suppose, even after all this time, the manners and attitude of an English private school, had some effect.
A chorus of derision from a few of the students followed Mr Brown’s compliment, which thankfully drowned out the rustling noise my protection made as I sat down. Oli was all smiles as he passed me a photocopied timetable list of subjects and extra-curricular activities and again I got the impression he completely understood.


After such a god awful start to the day I have to say, it got better. When I say it got better, I mean nobody noticed, or if they did they didn’t say anything, so from then on, for me it was a pretty good first day.

Now I was over my initial shock of seeing Oliver/Colin I realised that they weren’t all that alike after all although they were dressed similarly. I have to say Oli looked great in his shorts, his young blond hairy legs showed he was maturing way faster than I was. In fact, because of the special lotion auntie used at bath time, all my bodily hair had vanished. Next to Oli I looked like a little immature five year-old but it didn’t seem to worry him and we spent most of the day in each other’s company.
Motioning towards his t-shirt I asked him if he was a fan of AC/DC. He just shrugged and said he liked the logo but had to admit he wasn’t keen on their music although his father was a huge fan. He confessed that he, his brother and sister grew up in a house that was filled with rock music. Even as a baby he fell asleep to the riffs of Motorhead, AC/DC and most heavy metal bands his dad played all the time. Apparently his parents had met at a rock festival in their home town and he was a result of that first drug-fuelled night of metal debauchery. Thankfully his mom and dad were “really into each other” (his words) so they married two months before he was born.
He was very enthusiastic about his parents saying that they’d never had two dimes to rub together but both worked hard and brought up him, his younger brother and sister, pretty well.


It was great for me to hear somebody who actually liked his parents and not only that was vocal about it. On that first day I learned so much about Oliver but every time he asked about my life I slunk into babbling and avoiding the subject apart from telling him I now lived with my auntie and that I’d moved from DC. Not quite AC/DC but halfway there, I pathetically joked!
I simply wasn’t sure what to tell him. I doubted he’d be interested in hearing about life at a private school in England, I was positive he wouldn’t want to know about my ‘super important’ parents and I definitely wasn’t sure I could share my diaper wearing ways with him. Because he hadn’t mentioned it I assumed he didn’t know, or hadn’t noticed, the bulkiness in my jeans. However, just as I was boarding my bus he patted my bottom and smiled.
“Perhaps tomorrow you’ll tell me about this?”
I was stunned but his effortless grin said I should trust him… and why wouldn’t I? So far he’d saved me from total embarrassment and he’d appeared to have kept my secret. So, my journey home was filled with thoughts about just what I wanted to explain the following day… and did I in fact want to share any of this information?

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 8

Chapter 10

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Auntie Joan Part 8

This story is written by Les Lea

Auntie wanted me to try sleeping in the ‘other room’ with all the grown up stuff and sensible covers. This was her idea of ‘baby steps’ (I’m sure she used those words on purpose to get me to go along with it all) to feel able to identify with being fourteen. She wanted me to try not wetting during the day (although I was allowed to wear protection to sleep in), and get used, all over again, to wear ‘big boy’ underwear and to take a tinkle in a toilet. She didn’t want the kids at my new school to be able to torment me over something that I’d mastered many years ago but at that moment found a strange thing to contemplate… a diaper took care of those ‘where and when’ peeing-pressures.

However, auntie needed me to at least try and so I did.

For a few weeks prior to my return to teenage education I wore my briefs during the day and didn’t attend Rainbow quite so often. She wanted me to do what other kids my age did in their summer break and wander around the mall, go to the local pool, etc. etc. Sometimes we went together; sometimes I was on my own. I didn’t panic when alone but on a couple of occasions I saw a damp patch appear on my chinos shorts (when I went out I’d wear sensible length shorts as opposed to the short short style I preferred as a toddler)before I realised I needed to get to a bathroom. Still, I was doing what auntie asked and as a result felt slightly more confident (although confident isn’t exactly the correct word here) about the fast approaching first day of term.


Even though at school in the UK I was surrounded by other boys my age and we were forced into taking part in sports and extra-curricular activities together, I somehow contrived to keep myself to myself. As I say, the teachers disapproved of my independence and as far as they were concerned team work and team spirit were at the heart of a good school and an ‘included’ set of students. This didn’t suit me. I fought in my own ‘loner-ish’ way to be myself and rejected the school’s mandatory ‘all for one’ philosophy.


Now I was fourteen, and because auntie wanted me to be a happy teenager at my new school, we chatted more and more about my time in the UK. She listened politely whist I raged about how stupid it all was (and not just the uniform). However, I found as I explained to auntie the worst excesses of my schoolboy life that I had to admit I did learn a lot. My grades were high and despite everything I was a good student. The teachers were pretty good and were never condescending. If you had a problem or didn’t understand something, they took the time to discuss and eventually sort whatever it was out. I found it difficult to admit to the school’s positives so fell back to why I disliked the place so much.

I hated the crowned princes, the bastard children of Russian oligarchs, minor royals, foreign dignitary’s brattish kids, the privileged and the self-important… not once did I associate myself as being one of them.

It was only when auntie gently pointed out that because of my parent’s ‘political’ influence, their importance to the country and their desire for me to have the best education money could buy, is why I was there in the first place.

I have to say auntie’s grasp on my life was so much better than my own. She wasn’t saying I should be grateful, what she was saying was that the people I reviled were also there because of their family connections and influence, so at that level, we were no different.

We were having this discussion on a lovely sunny Sunday afternoon out in the garden; she in a very summery, flowery dress and me, enjoying the sun, naked apart from a pair of khaki cotton shorts (yes again influenced by Gordon and Colin’s photographs) and briefs. It’s a strange feeling when a point of view you’ve held as a plus point to your existence unravels and the folly of your behaviour becomes overwhelming.

This simple revelation made an impact. The idea I was actually no different from those other privileged pupils in the UK really hit home.
As always, auntie was mild in her reasoning, allowing me to come to my own conclusions in my own time. However, the shock that rippled through my body as I arrived at this mind-altering deduction was most dramatic. I filled my diaper, except I wasn’t wearing one so, I wet myself and at the same time broke down into the most dreadful lamentation.

I shuddered at my own foolishness; I’d been a stupid, self-absorbed kid all my life. Here I was thinking I was being self-sufficient, original, even a rebel but it was a lie. I hadn’t seen or taken advantage of any of the benefits I could have had. I’d been blind to opportunities, no wonder the teachers despaired at my attitude. I was a rebel without reason and cried for my wasted life, one that I now recognised I‘d imposed on myself. My parents weren’t the ones to blame; I’d made my life an awful experience through my own efforts.
I was in torment, what had I done? Panic gripped my body and tears flowed for quite some time.


Auntie hugged and consoled me but such sudden uncontrolled emotions meant I was completely out of control. Since I’d been with auntie I hadn’t had to face up to anything even remotely ‘grown up’ until the psychiatrist (and look how that went). I’d eagerly become her ‘good little boy’ but this revelation was just too much. I’d blamed my parents for depriving me of a happy childhood but in fact, I manged to engineer that on my own. I was a teenage boy and I’d just discovered something about myself that not only shocked but had reduced me to a blubbering baby in wet pants. I may have enjoyed playing the ‘little boy’ but the truth was I really felt lost and more in need of an adult’s guidance than I’d ever done before.
She rocked me gently in her arms and patted my soggy bottom and hugged my naked chest to her sweetly warm perfumed breast.
Once my sobbing had died down and I began to think more clearly she let me out of her embrace and I sat at her feet as she stroked her fingers through my hair.
“I suppose I’m going to have to grow up.” I said as much to myself as I did to auntie.
Her fingers stopped their stroking for a brief second whilst she thought.

“You are grown up sweet-heart. We can’t deny that and certainly the education department won’t let you but, and this is the main thing about my sweet little Doddle…”
She’d been lovingly calling me that since I’d explained the nickname back in the UK. Although when she said it there was always a twinkle in her eye as well as love in her voice and it made me a simpering, shy kiddie who’d just wanted to please her.
Her hand began stroking my head again and I felt the tenderness in those finger tips.
“You are in school for around 35 hours a week, what you choose to do with the rest of the 133 hours is entirely up to you.”
No doubt she could feel my brain thinking through my skull.
“I like my little boy,” she ruffled my hair, “I like my big boy as well… so no matter which he wants to be, I think that’s who he should be.”
There was a certain wistfulness to her voice as she added.
“Despite how you now feel… and I’m sure confusion is pretty high on that list… you need that connection to the nursery. You may not need it all the time, or for much longer but…” and her voice faltered slightly, “you do need it.”
I let out a huge sigh because I knew auntie was correct.
Without her teaching me, in the most wonderful way, to appreciate people (and toddlers are people too), how to interact, how to have fun and take pleasure in that fun. How to be social and not antisocial, how to enjoy simple pleasures and re-evaluate in the simplest terms all that has gone before… I would have carried around a sack full of unwarranted hate and animosity for ever.
The new location, the diapers and without doubt the unconditional love meant she’d stripped me right back to help with a new start.
I looked down at my pants and saw the huge dark wet stain almost obliterating the dry khaki colour and really wished I’d worn a diaper. As if auntie really needed me to explain and point out my accident I indicated the soaked pants.
“I’m not sure being a ‘big boy’ is going to be a success.”
She shrugged her shoulder slightly.
“So, what would my sweet wet boy want to happen next?”
I was quite embarrassed that my emotions had led me to cause such a flow.
“I don’t think I’m quite ready to be a big boy… mmm… perhaps I should be your good little boy for a while longer?” I queried hopefully.
She smiled and held out her hand.
“Maybe I should make sure my sweet boy is well protected for the rest of the day at least.”


We toddled off upstairs to the nursery where auntie stripped me out of my wet things. She held up my white CK trunks that looked positively yellow and shook her head. Meanwhile, I lay there happily sucking on my dummy as she cleaned up and slipped a particularly well stuffed, thick fabric diaper under my butt. She pinned it tightly into position before sliding a pair of crinkly clear plastic pants over the bulbous, though strangely comforting object. I was back to being what I wanted to be and wriggled in my own delight. All thoughts of school and my past mistakes fled at the same time as auntie took away the sodden khaki shorts and wet undies to be washed.
I wished my messy thoughts could be similarly dumped in a machine and come out all fresh and clean. Alas, I had to sort this out for myself and hope that I could maintain some kind of balance in future.
It was going to be a struggle on both our parts.


I appreciated auntie knew best and that I wouldn’t be able to stay a kid for ever but I can’t tell you, now I’d realised my past mistakes, how scared I was of starting at a new school all over again. I lay in bed comfortable in my protection, my hand gently rubbing the slippery surface of my billowing plastic pants but my thoughts definitely on the future. With dummy in mouth and hugging my teddy bear I hoped I’d could come up with some kind of solution to all this. The problem I had – mentally, where I was at that moment made me extremely happy. I didn’t want to change but change I knew was necessary.

You’d think being a loner for all this time meant I would have no problem because having no friends wouldn’t bother me… except now things had changed. I would do anything for auntie. I had responsibilities, daft as that sounds, I had responsibilities not to make auntie’s life difficult. We’d already seen how complicated it could get if psychiatrists and the education department decided to become more involved. I needed to find something that would keep my younger and older selves happy, or if not happy, at least functioning at an acceptable level.


Throughout the long school summer break auntie tried to get me to socialise with people my real age. There were a few 8th, 9th and 10th graders living nearby and she hoped that I might mix but they had seen me around and thought, because of the way I dressed, I was some kind of weirdo, so didn’t appear all that keen to have anything to do with me.
I have to say, this suited me fine but knew it shouldn’t, I had to make the effort for auntie.
The Rainbow Rooms Nursery stayed open for most of the lengthy summer school break and was packed with the young children of some very appreciative parents. I think, if they could, those fraught moms and dads would have loved to be able to dump their teenage kids there as well. I felt fortunate in being allowed to be part of this fun-loving, ego-less, noisy and un-patronising family of playful toddlers.
Auntie had a saying: “Those things you learn without joy you will easily forget.”
I had to admit, I’d learned a great deal from those kids.


Meanwhile, there’d been an open day for new students to have a look around the High School and auntie and I were able to chat with the principal and some of the teachers who were there to placate any fears or reservations newcomers might have. Most of the new arrivals were kids younger than me but there were two other boys my age also relocating and starting 9th grade at this place. Auntie made sure I spoke to them so that I (and they) would have at least a couple of people we knew on that scary first day.


Yoosuf was born three days after my birthday, came from Florida, although his grandparents were originally from Iran (left during the purge) and looked and acted like a little prince. His dark hair and huge dark eyes just drew you in and I would bet that he’d be pursued around campus by most of the girls his age. Just from the elegant way he looked I knew he must have come from a family with money but, if that was the case, why was he enrolling at the local High School and not at some private academy? No doubt all would be revealed over the coming term… then I thought of my own predicament and would I want to explain the death of my parents to anyone? I shivered at the thought that his story might be similar to my own.

There was nearly two months difference in mine and Oliver’s birthday and he was most definitely from a very poor background. His clothes were mismatched and old but he had a smile that would win him many friends. He was upbeat and positive about this new school and I found it quite endearing that he should go out of his way to make me feel included.

There was something about Oliver that I just couldn’t put my finger on. I felt an immediate rapport. He was both shy and yet confident. No, let me try that again. He looked shy. His long eyelashes, sandy blond hair and almost girlie features made him look like he needed the protection of others. However, when he spoke, and the way he acted, he was full of confidence about himself and his laugh was genuine and infectious. I liked him a lot.

Despite there being an obvious ‘class’ gap between him and Yoosuf, he wanted to be friends with everyone and his enthusiasm was irresistible. Yoosuf appeared as enamoured of Oliver as I was and it didn’t take too long before we were chatting about our favourite music and TV shows.


The first day of school was looming and I’d spent the last few days preparing myself for this occasion. Despite auntie encouraging me to sleep in the ‘other room’ I didn’t feel confident of not having a wet night. She’d said I could wear protection to bed if that helped but I just felt happier if I slept in the nursery surrounded by my stuffed animals and changing table. I’d become accustomed to seeing my plastic pants and piles of diapers before I fell asleep and they made me feel safe. I tried not to pee during the night but that was proving difficult as I woke up every morning with a soaked diaper.

However, there was some improvement. I was using the toilet during the day with very few ‘accidents’, which, with help from a pull-up I wore under my briefs, soaked up any dribbles. I don’t think anyone could tell I was wearing any form of padding under my chinos so hoped that would solve at least part of that problem.
I did miss the morning ritual that auntie had developed of me being diapered and put into a slinky pair of shiny plastic pants. That first view in a morning of a pristine diaper swathed in slick vinyl always made me feel terrific and ready for the day. I tried to get that same ‘rush’ when I pulled up my pull-up but it just wasn’t there, nevertheless I was grateful for this helpful padding.
I had to start thinking as a fourteen year-old and not as a needy toddler but wasn’t sure if I could pull it off.

Regardless of auntie’s attempts to make that transition un-traumatic, that first day at school proved to be a disaster as I sat in the nurse’s office, in my soaked pants, waiting for her to come and get me.

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 7

Chapter 9

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Auntie Joan Part 2

This story is written by Les Lea

I had a fitful night’s sleep; the same dream kept occurring time and time again.
I was uncomfortable because my diaper had become bunched up and annoying. In my dream I kept trying to pull it down and rearrange it but my tiny hands couldn’t actually grasp anything because of the covering thick glossy plastic pants. I became frustrated and grumpy and began to cry. Auntie came in, soothed away the tears and in her gentle embrace the diaper didn’t seem to be a problem so I could relax. Strangely enough I managed to slip into the crook of her arm like I was just a baby.
To help settle even more she handed over a teddy bear, which was wonderful to touch so I cuddled that, as she cuddled me, and eventually we all dropped off together. However, sometime later the exact same dream would occur and I’d begin to feel irritable and try to lose the diaper all over again, and with the same outcome. It was no surprise then when I did awake (I think it was the sound of the rail being unclicked and eased down) to see Auntie Joan beaming down at me.

“Hello sweetie, hope you slept well, I didn’t hear a peep out of you all night so I reckon somebody needed his sleep.”
It was wonderful waking up to a smiling, friendly face and as I yawned and stretched myself into wakefulness, she drew back the blinds to reveal a lovely sunny morning.
I lay under the warm duvet feeling happy and that was a feeling I hadn’t woken up to for such a long time.
“Now sweetie, don’t take this the wrong way,” she raised her eyebrows in a most comical way, “but are you wet?”

I was smiling myself and shook my head at first but then became aware of just exactly what I was wearing. Up until that moment I’d completely forgotten that I’d been put in a diaper the night before. However, I didn’t feel wet like I had when at school or more recently at home. Nevertheless, as I gave it some thought and ran my hand over the bulge at my groin I realised that it was definitely bigger and smoother under my, er, what was that, I touched the metal snaps under my crotch, a onesie?, that I must have done something.
I made a face, which I hoped looked like I wasn’t actually admitting to anything but also that I might have done.
She said, “Well it doesn’t matter we can sort it out later.”
She pulled back my cover to reveal my bulky groin.

“Let’s have some breakfast and then we’ll decide what to do for the rest of the day.”
The room was already warming up because it looked and felt like it was going to be another glorious sunny, hot Kansas day. My pale (English) bare legs stuck out from this huge swelling diaper but, and I strangely found it reassuring, there was no tell-tale stain on my blue onesie, whatever I’d done was all contained.


My undignified waddle down stairs and into the kitchen was a little disturbing, well, disturbing in a way I wasn’t quite expecting because I simply didn’t mind. Auntie had dressed me appropriately for bed just in case I wet, and now that I knew I had, I thought how brilliant it was that she’d had such foresight to know precisely what was needed for my comfort. I loved my auntie even more at that moment; she was interested in me and cared. So, as we sat and ate breakfast, with me perched on top of a very thick diaper; I wondered what other surprises this woman had up her sleeve.
I asked why she and my father had not been on speaking terms for so long and it was the first time I saw her radiant smile fail.
“Well you’ve asked, so I’m going to tell you but I’m not sure you’ll understand my reaction.”

A shiver of worry slipped down my spine as I wondered if I’d crossed a line and so quickly ruined something that had seemed so wonderful.
“Bill, your Uncle Bill, who I doubt you’ll remember, was on his way to an interview that your father had set up.”
I sat nervously waiting for the story to unravel and I began to wish I’d never asked. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to know, I was just worried things would change between me and Auntie Joan.
“It was a job I’d begged Bill not to pursue but your father, my big brother, had taken it upon himself to push Bill into at least going for an interview.”
She looked over at me to see how I was reacting.

“Unfortunately, on the freeway to Kansas City a fuel truck spun out of control, off the highway and across into oncoming traffic. The truck exploded and took out another truck and four cars travelling in the opposite direction. All the occupants, including my husband were consumed in the fireball…”
She gulped back tears and I swallowed hard as another shudder passed through my body. It was weird that I felt more sympathy for man I didn’t remember dying in such a dramatic and awful manner than I did with my own parents. This was not the story I’d expected and was desperately sorry I’d made auntie relive the experience. I wanted to comfort her. I got up and shuffled round until I had my hands on her shoulders and I could feel her body shaking with grief.
“Ohh, I’m so sorry.” I muttered in a whisper. “I didn’t mean to…”

My words seemed stupid and useless at that moment so I just continued stroking her shoulder and offering my chest for her to weep into.
After a few seconds she calmed herself and continued.

“I’d begged Bill not to go and more importantly, to me at the time, I’d begged your father to keep out of our affairs. I know he thought he was trying to help but, I’d already told him I didn’t want Bill working for the government, and I certainly didn’t want to move to Kansas City had he got the job. But my brother, as always, knew best and was so controlling.”
She reached up and gently touched my hand.

“I don’t know if you remember, but you, you were about three then, your mom and dad came to the funeral…”
I did have a vague recollection of travelling somewhere but thought it was a party of some kind. I’d forgotten that I’d actually, very briefly, visited this town before.
“Henry, your dad, was most apologetic because I hadn’t known exactly how hard he’d pushed Bill into accepting the interview. Once I did we had an enormous row… and I told him and your mother… that I blamed them completely for interfering in our life. As a result I ordered them, and that included an innocent toddler… you… to get out and that I never wanted to see any of you again.”


I was crying in sympathy for my aunt’s loss and I remembered how ‘domineering’ my father always was. I could imagine him pressuring someone else into accepting his decision so I hugged my aunt and we sobbed together.

Eventually she came up for air and finished her account.
“I wasn’t going to come to their funeral, even after all this time I was still so bitter about it, but the man who came to tell me what had happened in Mumbai also told me about you and that, as your only real family member, they hoped I’d take care of you.”
She looked me in the eye and told me straight.

“To be honest… I wasn’t sure… but when I met you I couldn’t get over what a wonderful boy you were. Even though you were detached from the entire ceremony I detected an inner vulnerability I just couldn’t ignore. After we’d spoken, and I got the impression of your own thoughts about your parents, I desperately wanted to take you away from people I reckoned didn’t understand you. I detected a lot of built up anger… just like me… and I knew we needed each other to, well, start again”
She added almost apologetically.

“I’ve never had kids of my own, Bill and I never got around to it but I’ve immersed myself in Rainbow. I love children, I offer them a safe place to grow and play, so why on earth would I turn my back on my own flesh and blood?”
She hugged me tightly.

“I wanted desperately to look after you and give you what your parents failed to deliver, a loving and supportive environment in which to grow.”
She held me at arm’s length, this was getting very intense and I wasn’t sure I could cope with it all.
“However, I wonder if I’m too late. I see the rage you have kept bottled within and the upset at the childhood I think you feel you’ve lost, would you trust someone else? I wasn’t sure until I saw your reaction to the nursery and how keen and desperate you were to find some comfort in such a simple place.”
She smiled through her red, tear stained eyes.

“You looked the same as any child I’ve had at the nursery… happy to be in a place where you are supposed to be safe and have fun.”
I couldn’t say anything because she was correct. That room had made me feel safe. All I wanted to do was stay there and sleep because I knew it was a room where I could feel happy and content. Even the pile of diapers and the smell of baby powder hanging in the air were offering me a feeling of, of, joy and satisfaction. But it was the sensation of pure euphoria I experienced as auntie diapered and put me to bed, that just added the final dimension to my feeling of being home.
She thought for a few seconds.

“How would you feel if I could give you back some aspects of your childhood?”
I didn’t know what to say to that but oddly a spurt of pee escaped into my sodden nappy. I was more aware of the fact that I was dressed as a toddler already and wondered if that was what she meant.

“Do you mean, er, all this?”
I indicated what I was wearing.
“Do you want me to be a baby?” I asked with more than a touch of disbelief.
She held my hand tightly.

“That would be up to you but what I can offer is a place for you to learn to be a kid again. To play, make friends, laugh, cry… but all in your own time. “
She seemed convinced she could make this happen even if I was unsure.
“The offer is there should it be something you feel you’d like to at least try?”
My head was buzzing with mixed emotions. How could I possibly be a toddler again, it just didn’t make sense? You can’t go backwards, the school in the UK, even though it was stuck in some kind of time warp itself, was very progressive in its teaching methods.

“We are constantly moving forwards, we need to make the future our priority.”
I could almost hear Mr Cartwright’s lesson, he was all about developing strategies for the betterment of man.
“We learn the lessons of the past but we march into a future we help create.”

He was one of the few teachers that I had any time for but… well… it wasn’t what I needed at that particular moment.
Wondering if I could live my childhood all over again seemed a foolish notion even if I was sitting in a wet diaper. I was nearly fourteen for heaven’s sake and worldly wise in so many ways. Besides, wouldn’t I be required to go to school in my new home town?


There’s no doubt about it, Kansas is hot this time of year. Even though we were indoors the heat of the day was already quite oppressive as I wondered back upstairs. I entered my bedroom and again the packing cases and literally unmade bed sent a shiver of apprehension down my spine. I went over to where I’d slept the night and the calming atmosphere of the place, or maybe it was the smell, but something immediately made me feel at ease. I was standing in a soaked diaper and a tight-fitting onesie but yet felt at peace, even more so, when I wondered over to the Disney bed I’d slept in and hugged the teddy that comforted me throughout the night. There was something about this room that I didn’t understand. Why was I drawn here and why was I so happy to be in a place where a baby would normally sleep? I was perplexed.

Auntie had of course followed me and gently asked if I needed help changing. It was weird that whilst in that room, that was precisely what I needed. Auntie took my silence as acquiescence and immediately came over and began to un-pop the studs around my crotch. She lifted the soft onesie over my head (which tickled and I let out a very childish giggle) and then eased my plastic pants over the thick diaper and down my legs, making me lift them one at a time as she pulled them off. I was just transfixed at the gentle way she went about her business, very obviously in control but with a touch that spoke to me more than words alone could do. The retaining tabs were broken and my sopping diaper was lightly guided away as auntie held it so as not to mess anything else. She tapped my bottom and headed me to the shower.

As I wriggled under the warm jets, enjoying the soft massage they offered, I gave more thought to auntie’s offer. I wasn’t sure what exactly it would entail but I knew for definite that I liked, no, make that LOVED, what auntie had said and done so far. In just a few days she had gained my confidence and I was more than happy to go along with any and all her suggestions because even then, I knew she would not steer me into doing something I disliked. I trusted my auntie completely and that was something I’d never done with anyone else.


I wrapped a towel around myself and headed for my shambolic bedroom where all the boxes with my clothes in were. I arrived in the doorway full of dread at having to eventually sort it all out when I heard auntie call me from the nursery.
“Dean baby, come here for a moment please.”
She stood at the side of the low bed, which she’d already remade (although I suppose just straightening a sheet and duvet wasn’t going to take long) and indicated that she’d got my clothes ready for the day.

“I hope you don’t mind but I thought these would be appropriate for the day as they are loose and light and I think you’ll feel more comfortable wearing them in our…” she said it with a huge grin as if she was a travel spokesperson for The Kansas Tourist Board, “welcoming heat?”
I laughed and shrugged, at least it saved me time rummaging around in various boxes trying to find what was where.
“Now then sweetie, a bit of a decision time.”
I looked at her with a slight scowl wondering why she was making me make a decision at all; she’d done pretty well so far.
She held up a pair of my white CK trunks.
“These,” she said wafting them around for a couple of seconds, “or these?”
In her other hand she held up a fresh clean disposable.


I was dumbfounded. I’d happily slept in the disposable but I wasn’t sure I would feel comfortable wearing a diaper during the day, when I was out in public, I mean, what would people think?
I voiced these concerns as I wrapped the towel more tightly around my body, wishing I really didn’t have to make up my mind.
“OK Dean, how about this? Today you wear your pants, but tonight you’ll wear these.”
She waved the disposable at me.

“In the morning I’ll ask you again and then you’ll make a decision and we’ll go with that. OK?”
I nodded my agreement but she still indicated for me to lie out on the bed.
“Look you’ve spent the night in a damp diaper so I think you still need some lotion and powder to prevent getting a rash.”
I could see the sense in what she was saying so, without any reluctance, I dropped my towel and lay out. As she set about rubbing in some rather nice oil she mentioned that if I was going to be wearing diapers regularly I might have to think, for hygiene reasons, to lose the pubic hair I was now sprouting in abundance.
She smiled as she said this and I was so enthralled by her slippery fingers coating my genitals I put up no resistance and murmured my agreement. I wasn’t really thinking just happy in the moment as my lower body enjoyed a sensation it had never experienced before. I know some of the boys at school had ‘experimented’ in such a way but I suppose my fierce and unfriendly attitude had precluded me from such ‘games’.

Once she had finished I was sporting a boner which she just flicked, smiled and mumbled something about “Oh you boys” before pulling up my white trunks. I was a little sad it ended there and then a sudden feeling of horror rippled through my body as I thought how disgusting I must be to have thought my auntie was going to ‘finish me off’. I could see and feel my entire body glow with the red of shame.

However, auntie seemed unconcerned about my sordid body and handed me a pair of soft khaki cotton twill shorts and a white t-shirt. I was so ashamed I hurriedly pulled up the shorts and got myself in a tangle as I tried to put my head through the arm hole of my t-shirt. To say I was embarrassed would be the least I was feeling but auntie checked me out and said what a smart boy I was and suggested she show me the Rainbow Rooms Nursery, which wasn’t very far away.


The shorts I wore was a pair that I’d stopped wearing because I thought they were too short but, with the sun bearing down, I appreciated that auntie had given me a chance against the heat. Besides that, I really wanted to get my legs a better colour than the pale white pallid hue they’d become thanks to the British climate. We walked less than two hundred yards down the road and around a corner to auntie’s business.

The Rainbow Rooms Nursery was in a low, single story building, which had been specially constructed for Auntie Joan quite a number of years earlier and had become something of a mainstay and useful edition to the facilities of the area. Auntie told me that she was always busy and could have expanded to twice the size and still filled the place had she wanted to. However, building regulations and practicalities meant she knew what was manageable and liked what she had. Kids she’d looked after before were now bringing their children for her to look after and liked the friendliness and continuity she was able to offer.

Because it was the weekend there were no children in the place and as she showed me around I began to get that same feeling I’d had when I first went into the bedroom nursery, a feeling of calm and pleasure. It had the same atmosphere of sweet smelling powder and… babies. There were shelves of books, activity areas, toys nicely stacked in huge clear boxes or hanging on the walls held together by nets. Bigger toys, which the kids could ride, were dotted around the main room, whilst the walls were decorated with the alphabet, numbers and joyful furry animals with balloons of speech coming out of their mouths. “Be nice”, “Think of others”, “Have fun”, “Joey the Giraffe says: Let’s grow together” and other such sweet sayings. In my head I could almost ‘see’ the children playing and wondered if their carefree essence now permeated the entire building? In another, quiet room, there were a host of little mats laid out on the floor for after lunch naptime. Again I almost caught myself curling up and settling down for an afternoon nap, well, in my mind at least.


Auntie said that the number of kids who wet themselves when they were napping is incredible so they were always at their busiest straight after they had all woken up. The queue for a diaper change was long but efficiently handled by her and the staff. She smiled as she showed me the changing area with its piles of diapers and stuff, not dissimilar to the one back home in the third bedroom. Outside there were other activities like a Jungle Gym with slides and climbing frames, swings and all manner of fun things for kids to enjoy. There were toys and objects available for smaller kids, babies, who could sit in a huge playpen and safely play away from the older, more energetic, members of the group.
I was impressed. The whole ambience of the place was uplifting and I could see why auntie had chosen this as her business. I couldn’t think of anything more rewarding than to watch and encourage little kids to play and grow, have fun and enjoy life.
God how I wished I could have had all that.


From ‘The Rainbow’ we picked up auntie’s car and drove into town where she showed me around. The centre wasn’t massive but seemed nice and to have all the stores, restaurants and other necessities a place this size needed. We parked up and went for lunch in the main mall. I was surprised just how well known auntie was. Almost everyone nodded and smiled as we passed.
“Hi Miss Marsden” was followed by a nervous giggle from both boys and girls, whilst “Good Morning Joan” was followed by a little bit of gossip from the grown-ups. I was introduced to a few of her friends but without the history lesson, I didn’t want them to feel sorry for the poor kid who’d just lost his parents to terrorists. As it was she introduced me as her nephew who was now living with her but without any further explanation. That left a few people with bemused looks on their faces and you could see they desperately wanted to know more about this ‘mysterious youth’. I think auntie was enjoying keeping the full story to herself and watching the features on some straining for more facts.


We had, what I can honestly say, was the best pizza I’d ever had. In the UK I was never overly happy with what they described as pizza, and although I loved the ones our cook in DC made, this was by far superior. I was delighted to sit in that air-conditioned paradise and stuff my face, whilst sucking up gallons of soda, until my belly felt fit to burst. Auntie Joan gave the impression she was pleased that I’d got at least some of my appetite back and encouraged me to finish off with a huge ice cream sundae. I was in heaven.
After lunch, as we walked around, I appreciated even more the lightweight outfit that auntie had chosen for me to wear. It felt nice as air circulated with each step, which gave a very pleasant feeling around my groin.

We went to a store to buy new bedding for my ‘proper’ room but for some reason all the styles I liked were particularly childish. Auntie didn’t seem perturbed by my choice.
“It’s you who’ll be sleeping in them so… the choice is yours.”

She wasn’t that bothered either when I chose a particular fleecy looking blanket that, in my mind at least, I hoped would settle me down on a night as I hugged something so soft and gentle. She did point out that we had plenty of similar items already back at the house but understood why I might want my own.


We went to a couple of clothes stores because she thought I might need a completely different set of fashionable items to fit in with the ‘locals’ and to suit the extreme weather. However, I’d stupidly been holding in my desperate desire for a pee. My bloated bladder was calling out for release but I held on hoping that I could last until we finished shopping before I needed to go. Alas, a sudden pain shot from my bladder to the end of my dripping cock and forced me to rush off to find a toilet. Unfortunately, it was out of order, and the one thing I was keen to avoid in public… happened.

What started as a small dark stain suddenly erupted into a huge ever-growing splurge as I couldn’t control the flow. My CK trunks did the best they could but they were no defence from the torrent that suddenly decided to gush forth. I was both embarrassed and terrified as I bent over to try and hide the developing accident and the yellowing trickle down my legs and onto the floor. Thankfully, auntie saw the situation arising so was already guiding me out to the car and soon we were safely on our way home. I could hardly speak I was so humiliated at what had happened and just hoped that I hadn’t shamed auntie.
She seemed completely unconcerned about the fact that I’d wet myself but more bothered about my feelings.
‘Was I OK?’

‘I wasn’t to worry; we’d soon be home where she’d sort me out.’
I was in tears.

I felt guilty about sitting on her car seats, the front of my khaki shorts now dark and damp, but she told me I shouldn’t worry it was easy to wipe clean. As my blubbing quietened I simply felt uncomfortable (and stupid) wearing my soaked pants. At the back of my mind I couldn’t help but think that this wouldn’t have happened if I’d worn a diaper, or if it had, I wouldn’t look like I did… a big wet baby.

Once home I quickly ran upstairs casting off my wet pants as I went and threw myself down on the Disney bed feeling self-conscious and silly. However, auntie came in and applied baby wipes to clean me up. The sweet scent filling my nostrils and making me feel at peace again. Once more she offered me a choice of briefs or diaper. This time I accepted the diaper. She powdered and taped me tightly in and then without asking slipped up a pair of thick blue vinyl pants to keep it all contained. She then disappeared into my room and returned with my navy blue shorts and guided me into them. It wasn’t that I was too numb to do this for myself it was just nice that auntie was there to help.

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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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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Babyfur Comic: Make a Wish

Babyfur Comic: Make a WishOrder by toyapup

Draw by tato

Source: http://www.furaffinity.net/view/30182793/

Support tato on Patreon https://www.patreon.com/tato

I sure wounder what the original wish was?

But the adult in the last square sure dont going to be able to find any parents for this two cubs. I sure wounder what is going to happen when he relies that? Is he going to be this two new cubs daddy?

It sure is allot of questions here. But i dont think we are going to get any answer here so it is up to us to fantasize about what is happening next :)

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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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The baby business part 8

Copyright (c) 1995 by Babydoc.

As the time dragged on, Doug became more uncomfortable than he could ever remember being. His arms burned, his hands were numb, his back was stiff, and his bottom and legs were cold, wet, and squishy. This isn’t at all the way he thought things would turn out. He watched as his clock crept toward the three hour mark, indicating that his test was over, and at the exact instant it read three hours, he heard a key turn a lock in his front door downstairs. Damn, he thought, she’s good.

He listened to the sounds of Mrs. Warren climbing the stairs, whistling to herself. He saw her enter the bathroom with her clipboard in her hand.

“Whew!” she commented. “Smells like there’s a little boy who has some stinky pants that need changing.”

He lowered his eyes in silence. Words couldn’t describe how humiliated he felt as he sat tied up in his bathtup with very messy and wet pants. She made it worse by laughing when she looked closer at him.

“Well, I hope you don’t mind my pronouncing judgment BEFORE we look at your underpants, but I think it’s quite safe to say you didn’t exactly pass this test.” She chuckled again. “I mean, I’ve seen other little boys fail, but not with so much enthusiasm.” She leaned over to inspect him. “You certainly did quite a number on those pants, and it’s porbably a blessing that you won’t be needing to wear those underpants again at any time in the near future. I don’t even WANT to know what color they are now. Deal?” she asked cheerfully as she packed her timer and monitor into her little black bag.

He couldn’t speak. He was simply mortified. That this could happen at all, that anyone would see him, that she would make fun of him. It was all so terrible.

She sat on the toilet lid to talk to him, then saw his expression and knew his feelings. “Oh, don’t worry, little boy,” she said, reaching over to stroke his hair maternally. “As I said, I’ve had lots of boys fail my test. You weren’t the first. And likewise, you won’t be the first to wear diapers for me, either. It doesn’t have to be a big deal at all, if you just accept it. Life goes on, even if you have an accident, and even if you’re wearing diapers.”

“But…” Doug tried to speak for the first time. “But I really don’t NEED to wear diapers,” he insisted, nearly in tears. “I’m NOT incontinent.”

“Uh, huh, of course you aren’t,” Mrs. Warren said with a patronizing lilt. “But your pants might want to argue with you. Maybe we don’t understand what incontinent means,” she suggested gently.

“No,” he said acidly. “I know exactly what it means. I’m just saying that I had horrible luck today. I’m sick, I think, and I had a lot of beer last night. I…I never have accidents normally,” he sputtered with exasperation.

“No, you’re not sick,” she replied. “Part of it was the diaper juice.”


“The diaper juice,” she repeated. This was always tricky. “It wasn’t Gatorade you drank, though it is very similar. It had a touch of a mild laxative in it,” she lied. Giving a hint of the truth often helped her credibility. But she found it best to keep him doubting his ability to stay clean and dry. He’ll be easier in the short run if he wonders whether he actually needs the diapers.

“I like to call it diaper juice because it helps me decide who needs diapers. You see, it doesn’t make everyone soil their pants, just those with some underlying incontinence. If your sphincters are a little weak anyway, this stuff will tip you over the edge, and you’ll have an accident. Or two,” she added, noting the wetness in his pants as well.

“My company has spent a lot of time testing this drink, and we’ve found that the vast majority of people are a little `challenged’ by the test, but that they stay clean and dry with no real problems. Only those we know by other tests to be incontinent had a soiling problem. It turns out to be quite a valid test,” she concluded. She had phrased that well. He ought to believe that story. “Of course, that doesn’t reeally explain why you wet your pants as well. The diaper juice doesn’t have anything in it to cause that. You did that on your own,” she lied.

As Doug heard this, Mrs. Warren’s words made his head spin. So, it had been a laxative, but he should have been able to hold it. But he didn’t, so was he really incontinent? And he had peed in his pants, too, so that juice wasn’t entirely to blame. He didn’t know what to think. He had to admit, it sounded like he had legitimately failed this test. But…but he simply wasn’t incontinent. He mumbled this again, since it was his only line of defense.

“That’s simply denial,” she responded easily. “And I don’t blame you for using denial as a defense mechanism. Bladder and bowel control are some of our most elemental skills. It’s embarrassing and a little scary when we discover somehow that we have lost it to some degree, even if it’s just temporary. I know that you are scared and embarrassed. Now, I can’t tell you why you are incontinent, only a doctor can. And Mrs. Sheffield says you’ve been to see a doctor already about it, so I’ll take your word for it, and we don’t need to address the reasons WHY you’re incontinent. Our job is to deal with it.”

Doug cursed himself for having mentioned a doctor in his made-up story about needing diapers last Saturday. But he never thought it would be used against him.

She went on. “But whether you choose to accept it or not, or whether you were aware of it or not, today we have proven that you have a problem with incontinence.”

He still felt dizzy. She sounded so reasonable. “But if I AM incontinent, I should have known about it. Right?”

“And I’m sure you did, on some level, but you chose to ignore it, or not to believe it. Perhaps we can find some other earlier clues. Think back. I bet you can remember wetting your bed, or having daytime accidents when you were very little. Right?”

He nodded. He could. But couldn’t everyone?

“Studies we have done have shown that our incontinent clients have specific memories like that more often than people with good control. And this makes sense. If you can remember such incidents, you were probably older than most people by the time you gained control, and late bloomers often have trouble throughout life with bladder and bowel control.” This was a fabrication she had practiced many times, and it usually had the desired effect. It did here. She could see that it had made him think. Time to hit him with more lies.

“Here’s another clue. Another subtle sign of an underlying incontinence problem is if after you pee (and I mean intentionally, in the toilet) you ever have a little problem dribbling into your underpants once you’re finished. Normal people don’t have this problem, but all of my other little boys do, and it’s another pretty sensitive sign.” Of course, Mrs. Warren chuckled to herself, how could this boy know that was a lie? Most men didn’t examine other men in public restrooms. And indeed, Doug looked shocked. He had thought that a little dribbling was normal. Mrs. Warren smiled. Time to hit him with the big one.

“Finally, psychologists tell us that we sometimes deeply desire things we know we need but which we can’t admit we need, out of embarrassment or fear. These desires appear in different ways, but one way incontinent people manifest the desire for additional bladder protection is a sexual attraction to diapers. You mentioned something earlier about this, so I’ll bet that’s the case with you, and I bet that from an early age you’ve had a fetish for diapers. It may seem perverted to you, or embarrassing, so you probably haven’t told a lot of people. But the fact is that this is your unconscious telling you that you have a serious problem, and that if you aren’t going to fix it consciously, your unconscious will help you fix it automatically. It’s true, isn’t it? You’ve secretly worn diapers before, haven’t you?”

She was looking at him with such a knowing expression. Doug nodded slowly as she nodded with him. Yes, of course he’d worn diapers. Was this why he liked them?

Mrs. Warren smiled. That was one thing she could count on. All of these poor boys wanted to know why they liked diapers, and they tended to believe any credible reason you gave them.

“You see, you’ve always had this problem, and you’ve always wanted help, but have been too afraid or embarrassed to get it. Not anymore. From now on, you’ll get the help you need, Doug. And to make it easier on your ego, I’m not going to give you a choice. Sometimes we can’t admit what we need, but we still need it. You may not be able to tell me you need to wear diapers, but you have all the symptoms of incontinence, and we proved today that you have a problem.

“Now, it would be nice if you could admit you have a problem, so that we can work together to fix it. Working together is so much nicer than struggling with each other, and my experience is that it helps you more to admit your problem and cooperate with me. But I must tell you that it is hardly necessary for you to help me. It’s far more pleasant for you if you cooperate, but one way or another you’ll be wearing your diapers like a good little boy.”

She reached into her black bag, drew out a camera, and before Doug could object, she took several pictures of him as he sat in his obviously wet and messy pants in the tub.

“What are you doing?” he cried. Evidence of his experience today was the last thing he wanted. He thought of his job, his grad program application.

“Now just relax,” she cooed, replacing her camera. “These pictures won’t find their way anywhere important if you behave yourself. They are more as an insurance policy for me. As I said, I’m not going to give you the option of not participating in this program. I know your tendency is to avoid the issue of your incontinence, but I’m very serious about forcing you to confront it, or at the very least, to control it. The pictures will just help me make sure you’ll stay in my program.”

That was bad news indeed. This woman was arming herself with more and more weapons, Doug saw. How could he avoid this catastrophe?

“Okay,” Mrs. Warren said, noting that the pictures had the desired effect. She would take more pictures later, and they would be her trump card for this fellow. “The next order of business is signing a contract for your personal incontinence control program, or ICP. After we do that, we can get you a little more comfortable.” With that, she showed him her clipboard, which had on it an official-looking document with a space to sign his name. Doug got a sudden feeling of panic. He couldn’t sign. This was it, the last nail in his coffin. If he signed this, he’d never be able to get out of this program thing.

So he shook his head. “I’m not signing,” he said defiantly.

Mrs. Warren took the clipboard back and shook her head. “Your choice,” she clucked. “You don’t have to sign now.” Doug was relieved. Maybe there was some way out of this. “But I will tell you that you don’t move from that tub until I have your John Hancock on this page. As long as you’re comfortable, you don’t have to sign. You want to sit for a while?”

Doug grimaced. He couldn’t bear sitting here any more. But…

When he didn’t answer immediately, Mrs. Warren stood. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll check back in a little while, after I’ve prepared your apartment. If you’re not ready to sign by then, I can leave you until tomorrow morning. I’ve certainly got plenty of time, you won’t starve before then, and you don’t exactly need special bathroom facilities. And if you get thirsty, I’ve always got some Gatorade you could have.” He heard her chuckling as she went downstairs.

When he was alone he lifted himself up a little and relieved himself once more into his pants. He had had cramps throughout that conversation but had held on until she left. That would have been way too embarrassing.

Now what could he do? She had him by the balls, he knew. She had blackmail material, and he couldn’t sit here forever. He was so stiff and sore and generally uncomfortable that even a dry diaper sounded like a dream to him. This lady was too good, and right now she had him right where she wanted him. He had to sign the paper. There was no way around it. He dejectedly accepted this over the next few moments.

More disturbing was the thought she had planted in his head about actually being incontinent. It didn’t sound possible, but she made it sound obvious. And if it was true, did he have any business objecting to this ICP thing?

But his bladder and bowel control was fine, he thought. He never had an accident. He’d never needed diapers before. And yet, why did he always want them? His head spun with the implications, and he was far too hungry and uncomfortable to sort it all out. He’d be best off if he signed the damn paper, got out of this tub, and got her out of his house. Then he could think about it all he needed to, and devise some way to get out of this whole mess. He couldn’t think of any ways now, but there had to be some escape.

He listened to the sounds of the house while he waited for her to return. He heard the front door open and close several times, and Mrs. Warren made several trips up and down the stairs as well. He heard bags ripping, and the downstairs toilet flush. He had no idea what was going on. And honestly, he didn’t care. His mind was set on getting out of here. So when Mrs. Warren finally reappeared in the bathroom and asked if he was interested in joined her ICP, Doug nodded vigorously.

“Good,” she said, and held out her clipboard.

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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