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Nappies                                                                                                                                      by Les Lea

Part 1

Ian stood in the kitchen doorway overlooking the back garden and took a deep breath. He loved the early morning freshness. The sun had just decided to creep above the bushes that surrounded the well-manicured lawn and a few birds were twittering in the nearby trees. It was all just so perfect.

There was still a slight chill in the air, his shoeless feet tingling slightly as if to remind him it still wasn’t quite summer.  A gentle breeze ruffled his hair, the dappled sunlight making him squint slightly so he closed his eyes to let those initial dawn rays dance across his face. He shivered in delight and felt so unperturbed and at peace with the world he let his body completely relax. A moment later a warm glow generated around his groin and trickled down his leg forming a pool by his right bare foot. This quickly brought him out of this morning reverie when he realised he no longer wore a nappy and he’d just pissed all down his clean jeans.


The rule had been simple and effective - whilst he wet, he retained his nappy.


He’d gone the required month without any ‘incidents’ so was now free of all that night time protection he’d had to wear before. For the past week he’d been so pleased with himself, having just passed his eighteenth birthday, to finally be done with nappies. The relief in eventually defeating his ‘problem’ and being able to wear normal underwear made him feel that he was at last a grown up and not the ‘big baby’ he sometimes felt.

Unfortunately, his soaking wet pants and the yellowing pool of piss at his feet meant he was destined to return to nappies for the foreseeable future. The glorious start to the day had taken a turn and, as he stood there wondering what to do, his mother noticed the steaming puddle.

“Oh Ian.”

It was all that was said as she gently put her arms around her suddenly gloomy son for comfort.

Even though she hadn’t yet seen his face she could tell from the quiver of his body that the accident had hit him hard and he trembled with emotion. Tears caught the corner of his eyes but he tried to hold back the anguish that was building in his chest.

He was eighteen for Christ’s sake. He didn’t want to cry, that would have made matters worse, but the rapidly cooling wet patch was a reminder that he would very shortly be returned to being the nappy-wearer he thought he’d just outgrown.


Like her son, Susan, his mother, looked out over the back garden and thought what a wonderful start to the day it would have been. Alas, now she had to get him back in the house and changed. She reached around the front and unbuttoned his jeans. Ian knew better than to fight her, and besides, he was so crushed by what had happened any protest would have been half-hearted and useless.

“We don’t want a wet trail now do we?” She explained as the zip was fully opened.

The sodden denim flopped to the ground. Susan felt sorry for her boy but tugged at the elastic waistband of his underwear, soon his extremely soaked briefs pooled at his feet and he stood, bare-arsed, feeling shame building up inside.

He stepped out of the sopping pile, his slim body fighting back the emotion that was bubbling so near the surface. It was difficult, his face contorted a little as he thought about what was to come and what he’d been through to get where he was. He looked down at his damp shrivelled cock wondering why it had chosen this fine morning to betray him.


Over the years he’d tested all kinds of things to try and stop his urinary problem; physical, mental, even mechanical but nothing stopped his bladder from releasing piss when it felt like it. Gaining control over that particular part of his body had been impossible until fairly recently, when, as if by magic, he’d found that he was waking up dry and achieving wet-free days.

He’d gone a month without day or night time incidents so the entire family had celebrated the end to his urine leakage. Alas, he remembered the rules that had been set right at the start of his problem – so now he’d have to prove all over again that he didn’t need any protection and that meant at least a month wearing protection 24/7… and keeping it dry.

The new boxers and briefs that had both filled his draw and him with a hope for a better, less damp future would now be there just to mock him. He sighed at the inevitability of what was coming and though he’d gotten used to it in the past, he’d hoped he was over his wetting problem for good.


His younger brother and sister had appeared in the kitchen ready for breakfast and witnessed their older brother being led, all but naked, back to his room. Nothing was said as they both averted their eyes as he walked past knowing that the next time they saw him, the thick nappy and plastic pants he’d had to wear in the past would be back in place. They loved their brother and felt sorry for him and weren’t going to make him feel worse than he obviously already was.

The family had been so pleased for Ian when they thought the daily routine of washing nappies and plastic pants was history. Ian felt really guilty that he still had such a juvenile problem, especially when his ten year-old sister Tess, and fifteen year-old brother Gary had been out of their nappies since the age of two but unfortunately he had no control over that particular bodily function.

It had been a problem since Ian was a toddler; he just couldn’t keep his pants dry. This dilemma had meant that all through school and growing into young adulthood, he’d had his nappies to safeguard him from any public (or private) accidents. He and his family had just grown used to it so wasn’t a problem. Both his brother and sister defended him should anyone think to make fun of the nappy-wearing teen. He himself regarded his constant protection with barely a thought, it was just something that was… and he couldn’t do anything about, even though he never stopped trying.


Nights had been worse; Ian seemed completely unable to control his bladder when asleep. It wasn’t spurred on by dreams or nightmares, so, no matter how badly or how well he’d slept, he’d still be thoroughly soaked come the morning. Doctors could find nothing wrong and the family weren’t stupid enough to believe he was doing it on purpose (why would anyone?) so knew he had a physical difficulty. It was something that Ian had always had to live with so the family were very supportive, it wasn’t an issue. It had been something that was part of Ian, like his dark brown hair and big brown eyes, so no one made a fuss. Besides, other than that, he was a fantastic son and brother.

There’d been a rubber sheet on his bed since he was a child and sensibly he had retained its services even when he thought those wetting days were behind him. Other than that his room was that of a normal teenager but it just happened to have nappies, oil, powder and the ubiquitous plastic pants where his underwear should be. Thankfully, all those things did their job so at least his room never smelled too much of piss. It had, and this was down to the scented talcum powder he used, the aroma of a nice upmarket candle shop.


His girlfriend Paula, who was two years older than him had, if truth be told, enjoyed having a boyfriend who still wore a nappy. At first, when he explained his condition wasn’t sure she wanted to be that involved but, there was definitely something wonderful about Ian’s character. The more she got to know him the less his nappy mattered as he was so unlike all the other teenage boys that kept bothering her. He wasn’t pushy, braggy or intent on trying to impress. He was polite, thoughtful, understanding and a great listener.  There was something else that Paula found attractive – he was totally oblivious of just how gorgeous he was. At first she thought it was his big puppy dog eyes but it was more than that, she’d never met anyone who was so considerate of others. She wasn’t sure if it had been the nappy wearing that made him that way but she certainly approved of having a boyfriend who was so distinct from other boys.

One day she accidently caught him in the last throes of changing himself. His pristine white fabric nappy was just being engulfed in an equally white pair of rubber pants. She saw the pins that held it all together disappear under the vinyl cover as he checked to made sure everything was concealed under the waterproof protection. She thought that not only did he look endearing, sweet and innocent in them; she loved the blush that came to his face when he noticed her looking - it added to his overall cuteness.


He’d been wearing normal underwear for about a week, and although she was pleased that he’d defeated his wetting enemy, she really missed having her ‘baby’ boyfriend, even though there was nothing babyish about what they did. She didn’t refer to him as ‘baby’ but there was an aura around him that made her want to protect him, even if that was something he didn’t need. Over time she found herself reacting to him in a completely different way as her hormones drove her in an unusual direction.

What turned her on, and she had no idea why, was the sight of Ian, wearing his nappy which stuffed out the front of his jeans. The soft, but obvious, bulge had an allure that she couldn’t explain. It was both genderless and yet fascinatingly sensual so couldn’t leave it alone. She was always pawing at it and getting him aroused, even when he’d rather not be. Untypical for a teenage boy, Ian didn’t always want sex, whereas she just wanted to fondle and play with his cushioned groin. Even when she got him out of his pants, the silky, smooth plastic cover seemed to set off some chemical in her brain that meant she just rubbed her hand, her face (and any other part of her body that was naked at the time), up against it. Ian had spent many hours being at the mercy of her sexual dominance as he, or more accurately his nappy, became her erotic, slippery playground.


Susan guided her son back to his bedroom and, although she hadn’t actually changed him for quite some time, thought he might appreciate her tender loving attention. Over the years he’d gotten quite adept at pinning himself in with the required amount of pads to satisfy any worries. Sometimes, and he never quite knew when, but the flow from his bladder was a raging torrent and it took more than a piece of terry fabric to hold it back. Thankfully, the leak-proof rubber pants could contain the deluge but a single nappy couldn’t, so, he made sure he was heavily padded at all times.

As his mother had already stripped him out of his wet clothes it seemed only natural for her to finish the job. To Susan’s eyes, at that particular moment, her son looked so vulnerable. He’d always been a sweet and sensitive boy and as he grew older that sensitivity never left him, the only problem was it left him looking like a little kid. His slim frame and shockingly good, though some would say effeminate, looks gave him a doll like quality in need of protection.

The on-going cost of disposables had meant that, although he preferred them, he only got to wear such a ‘luxury’ item when away. When at home, where laundry was available, he had to wear the fabric ones either doubled or trebled if the supply of soaker pads had run out. This amount of protection was mainly only used at night and he’d gotten used to having his genitals firmly ensconced in layers of fabric before he went to sleep. Still, a thick pair of rubber pants (over the years he’d accumulated many in a variety of colours) were still needed to guarantee a dry mattress and bedding.

His surprise wetting simply wasn’t seen as a one off and that he’d be able to control himself in future, it acted like a re-boot with everything being reset to zero. With his freedom from the nappy only being a week old, it wasn’t a huge burden to have to return. He was more like a sad, beaten boy who simply needed more time to manage such a huge problem. He’d tried but it defeated him and although expectations had been high, he was in no way blamed for his return to being the one in the family to be safeguarded in such a way.


The rash cream and talcum powder weren’t far away, nor were the supply of nappies and plastic pants which had temporarily been pushed to one side. Ian was just too distraught at what had happened to be aware as his mother grabbed the items needed and set them back on his dresser. Her son obviously needed something to happen and, realising this and thinking back to when he was just a little kid, Susan took command and eased the fresh thick protection back up between his legs.

“Don’t worry sweetheart… we can start to defeat it again… you know you can do it…”

She was trying to sooth her devastated son as the final pins were fastened tightly into place. She rolled a pair of thick blue rubber pants up his legs, and by reflex, lifted his bottom so she could pull it all the way up over the taut white fabric. The familiar bulky feel was comforting and for the first time he looked at his mother and spoke.

“Sorry mum.”

The tears had not actually lasted too long even though he knew he was back to square one.

His mother smiled and hugged her boy.

“I really will beat it one day.” He whispered in her ear as the tight embrace continued.

“Don’t worry,” she whispered back as she stroked his plastic protection, “we all support you… and we’re there for when you need us.”

“I thought I was eventually over it mum, this is a bitter blow… dad is going to be so upset…”

“Now don’t you think about dad, he only wants what’s best for you and if that means you wearing nappies, then so be it.”

“Yes I know but… I feel I’ve let him… everyone down…”

She pulled him out of the embrace and looked into his eyes.

“Look, you don’t have to prove anything. You have a problem that you manage very well from what I, and the rest of the family, can see. So, don’t be so hard on yourself. A nappy, as we’ve always said, is just another style of underwear… so… if that’s what you have to wear, that’s what you wear.”

He sighed.

His mother had always known what to say to make him feel better and even if he was just being hugged wearing a fresh clean thick nappy and plastic pants, he didn’t feel as bad as he had when he wet his jeans. In fact, now he was back in such tight security he could get on with his day. As the morning promised so much, he found a pair of shorts that could easily accommodate his bulky armour and joined the rest of the family at the breakfast table.


To be continued…



Part 2

Things were back to ‘normal’, even though ‘normal’ meant the eldest child of the family still had to wear a nappy. Ian had quickly resigned himself to the ‘status quo’. The short escape from such thick protection had, in some ways, been a relief but in others didn’t quite provide the freedom he was expecting. Over all these years of being confined to nappies it was quite an upheaval when he eventually found he might not need them anymore. Not that his life was turned upside down or anything, it just took more adjustment to the lack of what he was used to than he thought it would.

Although it had only been a relatively brief time (no pun intended), just over a week, when he’d slipped into his first ever pair of underpants, he’d found them strangely… unfriendly. Being dressed in nappies all his life, the thick fluffy fabric had always felt like it was giving him a hug even when he’d had to pin himself into them. Even slipping over a pair of plastic pants had been an act which was both necessary but mainly pleasurable. A pair of briefs just hugged everything snugly but didn’t offer that cuddlesome component.

Now back in a nappy and robust pair of dark blue vinyl pants (they matched his shorts) the smile he’d had as he watched the sunrise returned. The day seemed back on course and, as he ate his breakfast surrounded by the rest of his loving family, out of sheer devilment he surreptitiously filled his nappy on purpose, this time only he knew what he’d done.


The warm glow spread around his genitals and inwardly he sighed because of the secure feeling that gripped him down there. He decided to wear the soaked nappy for a while longer before going back upstairs to change. Then, as per the old schedule, he’d have to throw all his damp, urine infused clothing into the soak-tub for a few hours before eventually putting them in the machine for a “…damn good wash”.

His plastic pants needed to be rinsed separately so he did those by hand and pegged them out on the line. He was used to doing his own laundry, especially when it came to his protection. His mother had long since given him that responsibility and it was one he took very seriously, making sure everything would be pristine for when next needed. It had been a week since such things fluttered in the light wind, but he was really quite thrilled to see their colourful return.

What had started the morning as an awful experience (he hated that he’d so obviously peed his pants), was now all sorted and once again he felt the day was his. The rule was still simple and effective - whilst he wet, he retained his nappy. So, now he was wet and in a nappy he couldn’t have been more content now things had regained some ‘normality’.


That night Ian had a strange dream that left him wet and hyperventilating as he woke up.


He was a toddler, no more than three years-old, and was in hospital undergoing tests. He remembered being in hospital as a child but had managed to forget most of the time he’d spent there. He’d had some chronic illness in those early years which confined him to hospital for over three months. However, something happened in his dream whilst receiving treatment he had no recollection of.

In the children’s wing all the patients, from toddlers to pre-teens, wore nappies under their PJs. In the evenings, before bed some were put into even thicker protection than during the day (him being one of them) but everyone had to wear them. Despite the many tantrums that would kick off when it came to ‘nappy time’ those were the rules so even older boys and girls who were toilet trained and who objected had no alternative - the hospital insisted so there was no way around it.


In his dream, and he never actually remembered this happening, during the night when everyone was asleep, a nurse and doctor did the rounds checking on their sleepy patients. In the ‘fantasy’ (because he wasn’t sure what it was), the evening drink had been maybe laced with some potion that meant that everyone fell asleep roughly at the same time so by eight, the place was quiet apart from the noises a ward full of snoozing kids make.

The dream also revealed that the nurse and doctor patrolled the ward shining and flashing a torch into each child’s face to see if they were asleep or just pretending.  There was a soft low soothing tone emitted from somewhere and whispered words of encouragement to relax and enjoy wetting their nappies… if they did they would feel wonderful.

The whole idea, according to Ian’s dream, appeared to get all the kids to need changing at the same time each day so that the nurses didn’t have to interrupt the rest of their work, changing individuals all the time - just one big morning session and everyone was sorted until evening.

For some reason, even if this did make any sense (which it didn’t), to Ian it seemed a little sinister, especially as it happened night after night. The torch being shone into their eyes, together with the softly spoken words of reassurance, seemed to instil a command deep in each patient’s subconscious. Especially, when all the kids, no matter at what age they really were, all started acting, talking and responding like each other.

The tantrums disappeared, arguments over bedtime evaporated, simple basic toys in the play area kept even the eldest occupied, whilst the older kids, like the youngest, swiftly accepted their thick protection and the innocence to use them.


Now he was awake, heart pounding, a little breathless and with the dream still emblazoned in his mind Ian began to wonder about his time in hospital. As he lay there he had, like every morning when he was in that ward, woke up in a soggy nappy.

Now he vaguely remembered the light shining in his face (not only in his dream but when he was an actual patient) but had been too sleepy and docile to respond. But the sudden brightness, then being plunged into sudden darkness meant something, if only he could remember what was said.

As he pondered the dream/recollection he realised the effect of the torchlight was not unlike the way the dappled sun had affected his eyes the morning before when he’d suddenly wet himself. However, he dismissed that idea as being stupid, he was out in sunshine all the time and wasn’t forever soaking his nappy as a result… well at least he didn’t think that was the cause.

For some reason he wondered if this dream had exposed something he’d not pondered about for many years, although why it should suddenly have sprung into his night time subconscious he had no idea. He was half excited by some possible discovery and another part of him thought it was only a dream and he was grasping for meaning when there wasn’t any. After all, he was only three at the time so would have no real awareness of what was going on.

As he sat in the back garden, enjoying the strong afternoon’s hot rays he let his mind drift and began to try and piece together bits from his early life in hospital.


First he asked his mother if she remembered his time in there.

“Of course darling, we were very worried because you had a problem with your ‘waterworks’… your kidneys.”

She indicated a line below the belt and had a slight but reassuring smile as she gazed at her eldest.

“Why do you ask?”

He took a deep breath.

“Well last night I dreamed I was back there and although I remember very little about it, I wondered if that was when I started to wet myself?”

“No sweetheart. You were in there because you couldn’t control your bladder. They diagnosed you with an infected kidney and it took quite some time, tests and eventually an operation to sort out the problem.”

“But I wonder is that why I still wet so much?” It was a question he’d asked many times and always got the same answer.

His mother sighed.

“After the operation the doctors gave you a complete clean bill of health free from any problems.”

She put her hand on his shoulder.

“Alas, even though they said you were cured, the wetting continued and even after many tests they couldn’t figure out what the problem was but, they were sure it wasn’t your kidneys”


None of this was news to Ian. He’d had this explained to him time after time and he knew the story from his mum never changed. However, the dream had forced some thoughts to the surface and he needed answers, even if he already knew them.

“Mmmm, mum…” He thought about his question before he asked it.

“Was the hospital a good hospital?”

He saw her look quizzically at him.

“I mean, er, did they look after the kids properly, er, were you and dad happy with my, er, care?”

“What kind of dream did you have sweetie?”

The look of concern was underlined as she gently brushed hair from his eyes.

“Just a confusing one,” he shrugged. “I just wondered…”

“No, everything seemed fine. All the kids were happy, the place was always full of happy children… even the oldest seemed happy to play with the youngest… it was such a very happy environment.”

She thought for a few seconds and then reminisced a bit more.

“Even the hard pressed staff seemed happy and always had time to talk to anxious parents about their children. They often said how grateful they were you were all such a well-behaved group of patients and a pleasure to look after.”

She hoped this last piece of info would put his mind at rest because that was how she remembered his months in the ward… everyone seemed cheerful. However, it only added to Ian’s suspicions.

He nodded to reassure her that he was OK and that her words had set his mind at rest but of course they hadn’t.


Like the day before the weather was wonderful and the late Spring warmth was most welcome. He moved his sun-lounger around a little bit to get a better position and an early start on his tan. With his shirt off and his slim pale body desperately in need of a sun-fix, his bulging shorts indicated that his daily protection was happily in place, he settled down. His head wrestled with the dream’s implications for a while until he felt his eyes slowly closing and he dozed peacefully for an hour.

However, during that time the sun altered its position and a slight breeze had risen. The nappies out on the line were caught by the wind and began to flap in the retreating sunlight.  Meanwhile, the shadows of those fluttering nappies now covered Ian’s face and he woke up to realise he’d just wet again.

He looked down feeling the dampness of his nappy and sighed. He’d hoped to have a solution to his problem instead he’d fallen asleep and soaked his pants. He didn’t link the flapping nappies shadows and the wetness as he toddled to his room to change; to him it was just the usual inability to control his bladder.


Later, Paula was surprised and, if truth be told, quite happy to have her boyfriend back in nappies. Although she often said they didn’t matter she really did prefer to have Ian at his bulkiest. Of course her hormones were triggered the moment she recognised the tell-tale bulge. He may at times look innocent and childlike and dress in a nappy but she couldn’t wait to get him stripped down and initiate sex. Thankfully, Ian was in an equally receptive mood and felt in need of a distraction, which he was more than happy to let sex provide. Since his dream his mind had been confused to say the least so appreciated Paula’s demand for some fun in bed.

Her fondling and licking his plastic pants, and moans of pleasure as each part of her naked body made contact with his slippery cushion drove them both ever on. Ian eventually slipping out of his protective glistening vinyl, easing off his damp, but not soaked, nappy and letting his horny girlfriend writhe herself to the ultimate pleasure.

At the moment of orgasm she clutched the plastic pants to her cheek, smearing the damp, glossy texture across her face and inhaling deeply. The shudder of total fulfilment resonated in every part of her body as Ian nipped at her lovely pert little tits and urgently thrust for a final time as deep as he could.


As they both lay exhausted, and perhaps not using the most conventional post-coitus line of chat, Ian began to tell her about his dream and wondered if she had any ideas. He explained as much as he could but also added that it might just be a dream and therefore have no particular explanation, although he suspected it was something subconsciously nagging at him.

Paula listened fascinated. She hadn’t known about him being in hospital as a child and wondered if all his problems still had something to do with his dodgy kidneys. He told her exactly what the doctors had told his parents.

‘The kidneys are now working perfectly and are in no way responsible for your son’s present incontinence’.

Paula expressed the same thoughts that he and his family had, they must be wrong. However, test after test had come back negative and the real cause was unknown.


Over the years Ian just had to accept a life in nappies. He’d tried alternatives but when it came to it, there was nothing quite as efficient (but mainly as cheap) to hold his tidal flood as a few folds of thick absorbent fabric and tight fitting rubber pants.

In fact, he could never remember ever being worried about having to wear them. Nappies had literally been around him his entire life and he’d never seen them as particularly babyish or an embarrassment. He had a problem and nappies were there to ease the burden so, if anything, he was grateful for them.

When he thought about it, since his kidney trouble and possibly before, nappies had always meant comfort and security. Even in hospital, where all the kids had to wear them, seeing kids running around, or crawling around in some cases, their bulky bottoms encased in thick fluffy nappies and plastic pants, they all appreciated the freedom that the garment offered.

Though there was a general reluctance to wear nappies when new kids arrived in the wing, pretty soon they complied and the place was filled with well-protected children full of fun and joyfulness.

Meanwhile, Paula suggested he backtrack a little and see if anything he did, said or experienced might have added to his pants-wetting.  Like her boyfriend, she wondered if the dream had triggered some deep-seated memory and thought it worth pursuing. After all, he had managed to stop from peeing in a nappy for a month or so… how had he accomplished that?

That night, as he lay in his own darkened bedroom he began to think about how he’d managed to stop and have completely dry nights and days only a few weeks back. What had changed?


To be continued…

Part 3

Well, for one thing, he’d re-furnished his room.

It had been looking a bit young teenage boyish; not age appropriate posters and decoration in general needing a bit of an update. He was reluctant to change because the room had been his since he’d returned from the hospital as a nappy-wearing toddler. He’d been given it because he had a baby brother (Gary) now to contend with, so his parents had kitted out the attic so he had his own space. He loved it. He remembered when he first entered the room and being excited at just how large an area it was. All his toys, clothes and little bed had been transported up into this newly organised bedroom and for a three year-old it was a great place to play as well as sleep.

Ever since he’d had the room he’d always liked looking out of the large window that overlooked the back garden and the fields beyond. He rarely drew the blinds because from his bed he loved to view the heavens and count the stars or watch as the occasional beam from a car’s headlights raced across the ceiling as it drove along the nearby country road. Those brief flashes illuminating the room before it being plunged back into darkness as tree after tree disrupted the shaft of light.

The shadows formed shapes and even in his sleep those bright flashes would take him on imagined journeys. Despite regularly waking to a wet nappy his room was a place of youthful wonder, which held a great deal of fascination and one he’d been hesitant to alter. However, he was eighteen and it was time for a bit more of an ‘adult’ appearance and, should he have Paula over, have less of a look (and smell) of a pubescent boy about the place.

He and his father redecorated the entire room, changed the childish single bed to a double and altered the angle away from the window. His nappies and the rest of the stuff he needed were hidden behind a large, newly built closet that easily housed everything as well as his clothes. He purchased new and much classier bedding (although kept a rubber sheet over the mattress), added subtle lighting and, at his mother’s insistence (she was paying), enhanced the entire look by including some new long dark velvet curtains for that ‘sophisticated’ effect.


That night he tried to remember the sequence of events. The room had undergone a remarkable transformation and it had only just struck him that it was after all this work that his wetting stopped. He still slept in his nappy but morning after morning he woke up dry.

Could it have been the result of the new paintwork; perhaps the refined accents to the room or maybe the angle of the bed?

It was in that moment of ‘maybe’s’, and thanks to his dream, that he began to tie some of the loose threads together and realised something intrinsic had happened within the room.

He was still speculating about what elements he hadn’t thought about when he slipped into a deep sleep. Not surprisingly he found himself back in the children’s wing of the hospital only this time not as an actual patient… he was just observing.


All the kids were asleep and he could see the clock above the main door showing the time at just after ten when the nurse and doctor commenced their rounds. At each bed they’d flash their torch into the patient’s face and whisper some words. He couldn’t quite make out what they were saying but he had become more aware of the soothing musical tone and whispered words that accompanied it.

They appeared to be comforting phrases you’d offer a baby: How sweet they were, how happy they should play, how marvellous their friends were and how joyful it was to be a baby and to be looked after. Deep in the background there was also a resonant voice that repeated the mantra that their nappy was wonderful and should be used.

The effects of the flashing torch were obvious to see as each child seemed to relax further into their dreamworld and a smile would appear on their faces.

Ian tried to remember if this happened to him when he was in hospital and had a vague recollection that it had. He was also suddenly aware that at these moments he felt a warming glow throughout his body as he was comforted by it all.

Once the rounds were complete the doctor and nurse nodded to each other seemingly pleased with the way things were going.

“Look at all these sweet kids, fast asleep and unaware of the commands they’re being given.”

The doctor was smiling at the nurse who was on duty.

“If we can bring order to the wards so easily with these,” he spread out his hands to indicate the entire room, “innocent little boys and girls… we might be able to adapt it for all patients… which should help with organising treatment a little better.”

He smiled at his co-conspirator and at the success of his illegitimate psychological trial.

As the dream continued, Ian, still only an observer, realised it was indeed a very clever and complicated accomplishment but one that hadn’t been sanctioned by anyone except the doctor himself. The kids were guinea pigs for whatever psychological little game the doctor had formulated and were oblivious of what he planned to do next.

Whatever the ‘command’ was the doctor seemed to think he was already onto a winning formula.

Ian’s dream now made sense and explained quite a lot, except, he still wasn’t sure if his brain was filling in the spaces to give him an imagined solution or revealing the true answer.


If it was true the dream revealed an overlooked psychosomatic element to his problem, something that was left in his subconscious and was triggered by… by… by what?

He was no longer subject to the music, the subliminal words or the doctor’s schemes. On top of all that, this happened fifteen years ago so how on earth could it be affecting him now? He had to dismiss the dream as his overactive imagination desperate to explain his problem simply because the ‘evidence’ just didn’t make any sense. Besides, he kept reminding himself, he was only three when all this happened so how come he was now an observer?

The plot (if indeed there was a plot) thickened.

As he lay awake in his pitch-black bedroom he ran his fingers over the silky bulge and realised his nappy wasn’t soaked. Surrounded by darkness he closed his eyes again and relaxed in the comfort of his warm bed and surprisingly dry protection. With all that had been going through his head as he slept he was sure should have resulted in some kind of reaction, a flooded nappy at the very least. However, to prove the point, his fingers ranged under the plastic and over the soft fleecy fabric and it was definitely arid.

At that moment his mother came into his room and flicked the light switch. The room was fully illuminated by the main light but she realised that Ian may well have still been asleep and quickly switched it back off. However, her sudden doubt about whether to rouse her son meant that she nervously fumbled the switch a couple of times. On the second flicker of brightness, Ian was engulfed in a sudden feeling of elation and, untroubled; his bladder released the morning load into the soft folds of his parched nappy.


Up until that moment Ian hadn’t made any real connection concerning the doctor’s flashing torch in his eyes as a sleepy youngster, the dappled early morning sunshine or the flapping shadows of his wind-blown nappies. It was a few minutes later that he connected the dots to the car headlights flashing in his room that he assumed had brought on, albeit subconsciously, his nightly soaking.

He was elated at this revelation. The dream had led to a conclusion about what had happened and lay there, hand rubbing the front of his bloated nappy, and feeling relieved at finally having a motive for his continual ‘accidents’.

From being a small child he had made it a feature of his room that he hardly ever closed the blinds and he felt foolish to realise that those shadows zipping erratically across his ceiling at all hours of the night could have been the trigger to his problem.

He lay there soaked but taking in this momentous discovery. If true, all these years of wetting could be the result of undrawn blinds or simply walking down the street where shadows played tricks sending subliminal messages to his pre-programmed younger mind.

He ran his fingers more fervently between the plastic pants and the warm damp material of his night time nappy.  A shudder ran throughout his body. There was no doubt that he felt comfortable, content even, his wetness never causing him too much dismay. At that moment the dampness was actually getting him aroused. He wished Paula was lying next to him. He thought how much she would enjoy his warm, steaming, damp protection; her eager naked body sliding erotically over his bloated plastic mound. Meanwhile, he’d be lying there, enjoying the unrestrained actions of his lithe and horny girlfriend.


However, the glow of the day was seeping into his room. The pitch-black was turning into a sort of dull grey radiance and his horniness soon passed so re-focused on his findings. Could this be the real reason, and if so, why had he made the discovery now and, more to the point, how could he get rid of this trigger?

However, nappies had been, for good or bad, a very direct influence on his eighteen years. Over that time he must have worn, wet and changed thousands of them.  The recent brief respite when he wore briefs had been welcome but also strange. Loads of different thoughts and emotions ran through his mind, where one moment he was pleased to be rid of the bulky things, the next desperately missing their comforting embrace. Then, unannounced, another thought entered his head; did he actually want to lose this particular part of who he was?


This was a stupid thought. This was ridiculous. This was just plain daft… but what would it mean to just stay in his thick, welcoming, secure protection?

His mind clicked into “Don’t even think about it” mode, which was difficult as he ran his hand even more salaciously over his puffy plastic bundle.

“You’re eighteen for Christsake.”

The voice in his head was angry.

“You have to grow up, make the change, become a man and stop relying on your freakin’ nappies.”

The argument persisted.  

The desire to be ‘normal’ - to wear something that didn’t bulk out his pants, something that didn’t rustle or crinkle with each step, something  any other teenager would be long past accepting. Bloody hell, his fifteen year-old brother and ten year-old sister hadn’t worn nappies since they were two, now was an opportunity to be like everyone else, ‘normal’.

‘NORMAL’ - That was the word that shouted out more than any other.

‘NORMAL’ - Meant that his family didn’t have to put up with a ‘baby’ as the oldest son or brother.

‘NORMAL’ – Also meant the end of his lifelong problem; a problem that he’d gotten used to instead of resenting every day.

The problem was… ‘NORMAL’ surrounded his genitals at that moment; damp but friendly, thick but dependable, sexy and alive.


For the many reasons he could think of to lose the bulky wet fabric engulfing his cock and balls, he could think of an equal number of objections to retain it. However, at that particular moment, his horniness was the main contributing factor.

His rapidly moving fingers between the plastic and the wet material gave him a hard-on that Paula would have relished. He wriggled and writhed against his hand and the heavy damp textile, groaning in pleasure and anticipation at what he was about to achieve. He’d never before really felt this involved with his nappy and found it exhilarating. Paula had always got off on what he wore, providing it was bulky and covered in plastic, so this was a bit of a departure for him. However, he was quickly nearing orgasm when he heard his mother calling from downstairs.

“Ian, hurry up Paula’s on the phone… and your breakfast is on the table.”

He gulped back as the fury of his hand dragged him to the point of explosion.

“Ian, IAN,” she shouted more urgently. “She hasn’t got all day.”

“Coming,” he breathlessly screamed back.

And he was.


To be continued….


Part 4

This was something new for Ian, standing in the kitchen chatting on the phone to Paula, whilst wearing only his soggy and greasy protection and it made him feel a little anxious. With all his family sitting around the table he didn’t know if they realised what he’d just done. However, he could feel, with each small movement, his cock sliding in the milky slick he’d just deposited amongst the earlier piss. His plastic pants appeared to disguise his wet towelling and also keep any smell from being released into the atmosphere. Well at least that’s what he hoped.

As he spoke to his girlfriend making arrangements for seeing her after work, he could feel his dick reacting once more - his full nappy winning over any debate as to whether to keep wearing it or not. At one point he found himself rubbing carelessly up against the doorframe as he spoke, the sensual feeling in his inflated package being at a heightened state. He stopped the moment he recognised what he was doing in front of his family as they continued with their meal. They appeared oblivious to his writhing. Perhaps of more interest to the group than his soggy nappy was the pile of crispy bacon, the heap of scrambled eggs and the mountain of toast his mother had prepared.


This was something else that was new, the feeling of sexiness and shame. He was eighteen and should have all these pubescent emotions under control, or so he thought. However, as he sat in his overstuffed protection with the rest of them enjoying the large cooked breakfast he couldn’t help but wonder why such thoughts had now entered his head.

For years he’d never given a moment’s consideration to how he was dressed at the table, or anywhere else for that matter. The family knew about his nappies so there was little point in trying to hide the fact and, if truth be known, there were times when wearing just his protection felt freeing.  However, there was something else happening in his pants right now and he couldn’t fathom out what or why. He was ultra-aware of the thickness, the tightness and the wetness surrounding his groin and it was as if he was wearing a nappy for the very first time.

He shuffled in his seat. The plastic gave a deafening rustling sound which attracted his attention, but the rest of the family took no notice as he looked up red-faced and ashamed. He couldn’t work out why no one noted the noise, the smell or that his bloated nappy seemed to be getting bigger. Not only that but he could feel his cock getting harder and the desperate need for relief was growing at an equal rate.

Skipping his breakfast he plunged his hand down the front of his protection and felt the stiffness throbbing in his hand and, right there at the table, brought himself off to a superb thrilling climax.

“IAN,” his mother was standing at the bedroom door. “She can’t wait for ever. Come on, get up… and your breakfast is stone cold.”


Groggily he dragged himself from the strangest and most definite dream he’d ever had. In what must have been just a few short minutes between her first calling him to then appearing at his bedroom door, he’d fallen back asleep after his first orgasm and had, well, the wettest and most embarrassing dream he could ever remember.

Then, as he pulled back the covers to reveal his inflated and soaked night time fortification, he wondered if he’d just done what he’d dreamed about and, if so, how long had his mother been standing in the doorway? As he waddled shamefully down stairs to the phone he could feel the warm slickness surrounding his dick and knew he would be more than a little embarrassed if his mother had witnessed any of what he’d done.

Thankfully, his family were not waiting at the table. In fact, there was only a single plate of cold cooked breakfast and cup of rapidly cooling coffee. When he reached for the phone all he could hear was the tone, obviously Paula had grown tired of waiting.

He was relieved; none of this scenario matched his dream. However, a shiver of humiliation ran down his spine when he noticed the look his mother gave him… she’d clearly observed what he’d been up to.


With having two teenage sons Susan was used to them occasionally being a little free with their libido, so it hadn’t come as too much of a shock to see Ian pumping away under the covers. She’d had to wash enough sheets, PJs and underpants to know that her son’s had found something that gave them pleasure, and therefore indulged pursuing it quite often. However, she was more annoyed at Ian for keeping Paula waiting on the phone and letting his breakfast, which she’d cooked especially for him, get cold. Still, now she knew what he’d been up to she chuckled to herself that perhaps the urge to eat wasn’t quite as powerful as the urge to…

“Boys.”  She thought, shrugged and returned to her washing up.


Ian was in a bit of a quandary. If his dream had revealed the truth (and he was beginning to believe more and more it had) because of the actions of the children’s doctor, and some psychosomatic command had been deposited deep in his mind, he’d need another psychiatrist to find it and flush it out.

He had no idea who the doctor was all those years ago… he had no name or anything. He’d had several doctors in the hospital but according to his mother, Mr Patel had been his consultant and as far as the dream was concerned it wasn’t an Indian doctor doing the nightly rounds.

As he ruminated about it none of the doctors and nurses he vaguely recalled looked anything like the one in his dream. However, as he was asleep as a three year-old he couldn’t know if a changed team was on a different shift. He wondered if he should take his ‘findings’ and talk them over with his psychiatrist.

He hadn’t actually been to a session with Dr Ivy Crawford for a few years now. She’d been the one he’d seen when they were trying to get to the bottom of his wetting problem but had no luck. For a couple of years he’d had, together with his mother, visited her practice but each time he’d still come away wrapped in a nappy… the sessions were not that successful. However, he reasoned, she actually knew his case so wouldn’t have to bring her ‘up to speed’ on his condition as she’d already have all pertinent notes.

He decided to talk things over with Paula first.


The erotic energy that had started his day continued. Ian had never, and he meant never, felt so horny in his life before. It was as if his thick protection was driving his thoughts and he could see why Paula was so keen on it all. He spent the day on the verge of explosion, with a dick that was hard, often leaking and uncomfortably trapped in the folds of his nappy… but still raring to go.

As he walked, talked or sat the bulk between his legs just reminded him how horny he really was. The heaviness, the slippery cover as it rubbed against his jeans, the slight adjustments he had to keep making pulling and arranging the nappy as it bunched-up in some way – everything made him feel unbelievably sensual. His mind drifted to the new closet full of nappies, plastic and rubber pants, powders and lotions and he thought how fantastic it was that he was still able to access such things at his age.

His girlfriend liked the red snap-on plastic pants the most; she thought they looked “well sexy”. They were thicker than his pull-on pants, shinier, slicker and quite a deal thicker but decided he’d wear the white vinyl pants with the little teddy bears all over them. He’d had them since he was a kid but, even though they were really too tight on him, he liked their sweet juvenile look so much he just didn’t want to stop wearing them. She hadn’t experienced these rather babyish pants and he wondered, for a laugh, if she would appreciate a bit of sexy silliness.


Paula was surprised that he was waiting outside her home when she arrived back from work and further surprised at what followed.

Ian, rarely, if ever, initiated sex but his dick had been throbbing all day and now tightly packed behind his ‘teddy’ protection he wanted some action. Paula thought it wonderful that he should be so hot and horny as she opened the door and let them both in. They went straight to her bedroom and Ian wasted no time in taking down his jeans to reveal his childish surprise.

She loved just how cute they looked on him. She’d never seen them before and smiled that her baby boyfriend looked even more endearing in his slick teddy panties. Of course, as anticipated, she couldn’t keep her hands off the glossy cushion and quickly stripped naked herself to experience Ian’s slippery offering.

Ian’s mind had been set on S.E.X. since he woke up that morning. He’d never experienced such a carnal drive before and he found it strangely empowering. Not only that but, instead of Paula taking the lead, he found various new ideas of his own that led to some very surprised squeals of pleasure.


What started out as ‘a welcome home from work’ shag developed much further and they were still banging away into the early hours of the morning.

Her alarm clock beeped at 7.00am, though she’d only managed two sporadic hours of any proper sleep. Ian had seemed passionately possessed and although Paula was grateful for her boyfriend’s sudden urges and ideas, she really did have to get up for work.

After the hectic night of love making she was relieved to get to the shower and let the warm jets soothe her sore and aching body.

It had been several hours of enthusiastic and innovative sex but after only a few minutes sleep Ian had woken up stiff and raring to go again.

He slipped naked in behind her, caressing her warm glowing skin and tweaking her firm little nipples. His stiff cock weaved its own design on her pert bottom as they swayed together in the showers hot and welcoming embrace. Despite her feeble protest that she was running late and had to get ready, she actually loved her ‘baby’ demanding such unorthodox sex. There wasn’t a part of the body or an orifice that hadn’t seen some action and probably more than once. Ian had been a revelation and had done things that neither had experimented with before.

He’d worn his nappy and plastic pants almost throughout, although by the sixth and seventh time, they were getting more than a bit distressed. Such had been the unrestrained activity that the little terry and plastic pile which sat dirty and abused in the middle of her bedroom carpet couldn’t be salvaged. However, after the shower Paula, noticing the time, managed to get Ian safely into a disposable (she’d bought for just such an occasion) before any further sex could take place.


His girlfriend’s pre-planning for his possible disposable needs was impressive. Ian appreciated that she’d actually gone out and obtained some rather high-end thick nappies just in case he wet himself whilst staying with her. He was overwhelmed that she’d even acquired the various powders and lotions that he had at home to make sure he was kept comfortable whilst he wore them.

For the first time in their relationship she changed him, it all was just a continuation of their sexy games. No matter how much his cock begged for attention she ignored it and got on with the ‘other’ job in hand.

He’d been amazed how much she’d appeared to enjoy fitting him into a clean disposable and how at ease he was to let her get on with it. They both looked sad when the pair of bear covered plastic pants were ripped and couldn’t be reclaimed but she assured him the current protection would be enough to at least get him home.


Once he was fully enclosed and Paula had managed to get herself dressed for work, over a cup of shaky morning tea (her body hadn’t stopped trembling since the start of the long night session), he asked what she thought of him going to see his psychiatrist about his dream and conclusion.

Paula could have done without this conversation. She was worn out and not really fully awake to make any serious responses. In the end her opinion… it was up to him.  If he wanted a solution, and he thought he’d found one, then probably he needed Dr Ivy to help sort things out because neither she nor Ian had any idea how to go about it.


As he walked her to the bus stop they discussed it even more and he began to think how things had changed so quickly. He wondered why he’d suddenly got this incredibly sexual desire and was surprised at how it had manifested itself so awesomely into his recent performance. It was so unlike him and even though there was a part that was pretty thrilled with what they had done, another part; the easy going, unassuming, bedwetting little guy he’d always been, was appalled.

That scared him.

How could he be both?

He saw Paula take her seat on the bus and waved his goodbye, whilst mentally making the decision to see Dr Ivy… and then it happened.

As the bus pulled away, the sun shining through its windows created a flickering shadow effect and he immediately felt a warm flush fill his nappy. He could feel the tell-tale weight increasing as the disposable got to work doing its job but he worried that without plastic pants he might leak. However, the absorption of the thicker-than-normal disposable Paula had obtained soaked up everything, leaving Ian with an obviously bloated nappy under his jeans but no betraying wet stains.


For a few moments he stood mesmerized to the spot. It seemed this was further proof that what he now believed to be the reason for his wetting was indeed fact. However, this realisation just brought on further complications. For instance: Why now? Why the dream? Why was he so sexually adept? Why had his life changed so dramatically in what was just a few hours?

To Ian, none of this seemed real.

There were other thoughts: How could he use Paula like he’d just done? It wasn’t really passion, it certainly wasn’t love. It seemed more an overpowering need and that need had been instigated by his nappy… but that’s just illogical, stupid and utter hogwash!

Despite a growing mood of guilt and confusion, behind the swollen disposable his cock was leaking once again. Indeed, it had hardly gone down since the morning before and was making Ian uncomfortable simply because he had no explanation for it. The need to speak to someone who might help was becoming crucial; he needed answers because the answers he thought he had made no sense.

That tell-tale shiver of uncertainty rippled through his body but oddly, when it reached his lower abdomen, and the top of his soaked disposable, his mood changed. The bulky load between his legs offered support, whilst the tightness of the well-taped item made him feel secure. He believed no matter how heavy they became… he could always rely of his nappy to guide and keep him safe.

As he slowly waddled home his mind was filled with thoughts of all his wonderful nappies.


To be continued…


Part 5

Nappies, nappies, NAPPIES…  To guide and keep you safe.

Why this refrain was running around in his brain like some kind of mantra he didn’t know but it was difficult to think of anything else.

NAPPIES - Nappee, nappi, nappendum…

Hell, his brain was trying out mock Latin now.


His mind swam with information overload as it seemed like every nappy he’d ever worn was now forcing itself into his head. The colour, the texture, the wetness, the dryness, the thickness, how much each absorbed, which vinyl pants went best with what, etc, etc, etc… all this data became ‘significant’.

More facts and figures from his eighteen years of ‘wearing’ erupted like an active volcano over and over again. It was as if his brain was running some kind of programme, delivering facts, or more specifically, downloading info so it was all readily available.

Ian had no control over his thoughts or his bladder as once again it let loose a stream – warming and absorbing - around his testicles. This action brought a different set of statistics and he remembered every time he’d filled his nappy; what he was doing, what he was wearing and where he was going.

It was getting oppressive and way too much.

Suddenly, whatever part of his mind usually supervised his bowels had been usurped into a different area and he let go; his soggy wet disposable greeted a messy alternative info dump.


The sunny start to the day gave him no hiding place as he trudged back towards home.

The journey was a messy affair. It was a good job he was wearing jeans because the liquid excess rolled down his legs; the dark blue denim offering some camouflage but not much. With each cautious step the grossness surrounding his genitals was a reminder of just how thankful he should be for nappies.

Just think of the mess you’d be in without us.’ They appeared to say - well in his head anyway.

Unfortunately for Ian he didn’t slip by unnoticed. The trail of confused, gagging and disgusted faces on each pedestrian he passed was testament to just how bad things were. He was ignorant of the fact that he was the cause of the smell and such universal revulsion, but alas, his bulging jeans and obvious wet patches gave the game away.

He’d never had to suffer such a horror in his pants like this before but although his feet propelled him onwards; his mind was busy with other nappy related thoughts. He needed reinforcement because a disposable on its own just wasn’t sturdy enough to cope with any such disaster. His brain was telling him ‘more, more, and even more still’.

As he made his way forward, mentally at least he was already in his room, sorting through the various different fabrics and deciding how many layers of nappies he’d need and which strong plastic pants would be able to contain such much needed bulk.


Eventually, mind absorbed in the minutiae of his ‘world of nappies’, he arrived home seemingly oblivious of the smell, the fullness and graininess that was rubbing into every part of his disposable covered lower half. The waddling gait he’d assumed made him look like a two year-old who hadn’t quite learned the basics of walking with a full nappy. As he’d absent-mindedly wandered up the garden path his mother noticed his detached look before discerning his inflated waistline and the dark streaks on his pants.

Stopping him at the door he appeared surprised that she was barring his way.

“Oh Ian.”

It was the same lament she’d made when he’d pissed his pants just a few days earlier.

“Let’s get you out of these before we, er, leave a trail all over the place.”

It was as if, for the first time since it’d happened, he became aware of the mess in his nappy.

“Oh yer... er… I seem to have had an accident. I… er…”

Both now aware of the smell it was evident that he needed to strip outside and get cleaned up before being allowed in. This time he didn’t need his mother’s help he just pulled at the buttons on his jeans and let them drop before stepping away. His disposable was a filthy soaked mass that hung suspended from his slim hips for a few seconds before flopping unaided to the ground leaving Susan staring at her shit and piss covered teenage son.

She went and grabbed a bowl of warm water and a cloth and despite Ian saying he could do it, decided she’d take on the task herself. He just shrugged and let her get on with it. Meanwhile, as she scraped, sponged and wiped, he was able to think of more important things like… how many is too many layers of nappies?

Susan saw there was something else going on in Ian’s head that she found a little discerning. It wasn’t just the dream he’d had, it wasn’t the return to nappies, it was, it was…?

Perhaps it was a mother’s intuition but decided the moment she’d cleaned him up to seek help and advice.


Doctor Ivy Crawford was surprised to hear from Susan after such a long time. When younger, Ian had been a regular visitor, but alas, she hadn’t been able to find any cause for the young lad to still be wetting and wearing nappies well past the time he really should be out of them. Her initial diagnosis was simple - Ian liked them and, as far as she could see, preferred to be in rather than out of them. However, since it had been quite some time since they last spoke, she assumed Ian was no longer dependent on such safeguards and had simply outgrown that desire.

After a long phone call, where she gave the doctor as much information she knew about, Susan was able to make an urgent appointment for the following evening. Doctor Ivy had agreed to see Ian outside her normal office hours because she was intrigued as to why, after all this time, it appeared to be a problem again. Especially as Ian’s mother had said that up until just a few days ago it wasn’t one.

The psychiatrist was fascinated by the news that he’d had a month of dryness, followed by a week of wearing normal underwear, before plummeting back into the need for a nappy. To her this only served to demonstrate that her original diagnosis had probably been correct, although Ian’s current bizarre behaviour might need a little more exploring.


Susan tentatively went to break the news of the appointment, not too sure if Ian would be angry at her seeking help. She was a little shocked to find him in his room surrounded by the mass of fabric that made up his huge assortment of nappies. He was busy trying different combinations of materials and thickness, together with soaker pads for what he saw as the safest and most secure.

He’d just finished pinning, with difficulty, the optimum amount of protection he thought was needed around his groin and busy looking for a pair of rubber pants to fit over the immense bulk when she told him of the arrangement with Doctor Ivy.

His weird behaviour only confirmed what Susan thought, her son was having some kind of breakdown. However, she pretended all was well, even offering her opinion on which rubber protection she thought would work best - the clear thick voluminous vinyl pants. Ian nodded in agreement and struggled into them.

However, despite her misgivings, Ian was delighted that she had read his mind, knew he wanted to discuss his revealing dream with his therapist and had gone ahead and made arrangements. What a thoughtful and understanding mother he had and, furthermore, didn’t mind the fact that she’d be accompanying him to the appointment. He had a lot to talk over with Doctor Ivy and was looking forward to the meeting and telling her of his hospital discovery.


For the rest of the afternoon, and most of the following day, Ian spent in his room with his nappies. He sorted and re-sorted them, changed the piles, refolding them, changing them around… over and over again; matching them with different plastic pants - deciding on rubber and vinyl preferences.

He had masses going back over many years, even those that obviously didn’t fit anymore, he’d kept. There were tiny disposables, colourful cartoon covered pull-ups, nursery print plastic pants and he wished he could still wear them all. It became an obsession that he couldn’t quite settle on, which he liked best because, they were all so fantastic.


That afternoon Susan had taken a call from a rather confused and worried Paula. She wouldn’t normally discuss her sex life with her possible future mother-in-law but, in retrospect, had realised that Ian’s behaviour wasn’t quite… normal.

They’d discussed his dream and wondered if there could be any truth to it but Susan was adamant that as far as she could remember the hospital had been fine. She didn’t think that all the kids had to wear nappies, in fact, as she remembered it, only Ian and two others with different kidney problems wore them. Her recollection wasn’t the same as his at all; even the lay out of the ward was different.

Eventually Paula had got around to telling her of the night they’d just had. She didn’t go into precise detail, other than to say it was unlike anything they had ever done before. It was as if he was trying to prove something to… someone? She wasn’t sure who but she was convinced that his nappy and plastic pants played an important part in what took place.

She couldn’t really explain why she was worried other than to say it was so out of character that although it was fun, terrific even, it was, with hindsight, intimidating.


Dr Ivy Crawford:  MD, DClinPsy, MSc, BSc was a most amiable woman. She was early forties, plump, motherly, and had an expression of helpfulness, diligence and understanding. She’d gained an extra Master’s degree whilst simultaneously looking after her two babies and enjoyed her job as it, like her children, gave her total satisfaction. Her husband, who personally made bespoke wooden furniture from the workshop in their back garden, had been her childhood sweetheart and was still the total love of her life. Between them there was not an ounce of pomposity or hubris even though both were exceptional in their fields of work.


She was quite surprised when Susan and Ian turned up for their appointment because it was a bit like déjà vu. Susan looked worried but as well turned out as she always did for such appointments, whilst Ian looked like he had when the last time she’d seen him as a ten year-old, except maybe now he was a little taller. However, there was still the nappy.

Unlike some of her other patients who still wore nappies for one reason or another, Ian didn’t mind the material lying thickly between his legs or the obviously telling bulk. It was what caused most of the therapists other teenage clients the most embarrassment, that and the sheer desperation that none of their friends should ever find out about their ‘predicament’.

This was definitely not a worry as Ian was wearing much heavier protection than he did in those pre-teen days and the only thing he could find to cover his revealing plastic pants was a pair of baggy loose cotton shorts, which hardly did the job.


Ian greeted her like a long-lost friend and she did him.

“Hi Doctor Ivy,” he smiled and shook her hand, “how are you?”

Much to everyone’s surprise he then gave her a long hug.

When he’d been younger he’d spent so much time with the psychiatrist that Dr Ivy felt like a friend to him and as such, friends were always hugged. Even now he liked to hug and his family and friends who had gotten used to this very friendly way of saying ‘hello’ or ‘farewell’ because of the way Ian gently rocked and squeezed as he did so.

His mother looked on slightly embarrassed but pleased that the doctor had responded well to her son’s enthusiastic greeting.

“Well,” the psychiatrist said, “you seem pleased to be back.”

She patted his bulging cushioned bottom.

“And I see you are still comfy in your protection.”

He smiled and looked her straight in the eye.

“Yes, and I now know why.”

There was a knowing and excited look on his face. One that transmitted a “You’re not gonna believe this” expression because he now knew exactly what had affected him for all these years.

She indicated the sofa and they all sat down.

“Perhaps you’d like to tell me why.”

Susan didn’t get a chance to add anything to the conversation as Ian launched into his dream and the way things had transpired since.


The psychiatrist found the dream fascinating and of course Ian’s interpretation of what it all meant. She let him excitedly recount the various stages of his detection and how he’d been convinced by the shadows affecting his eyes and acting as some deep-seated trigger for his wetting since he was a toddler.

Susan looked on amazed at all that had gone on in her son’s head but kept quiet as he continued to explain how and why things had developed the way they had.


Dr Ivy made notes and listened intently to what her patient had to say. She also noticed that as he spoke so excitedly about what he’d discovered, he’d also soaked his nappy but didn’t appear aware of it. She could see part of the huge clear plastic pants holding the thick yellowing fabric peeking below the leg of his loose fitting shorts and she was thankful that his safeguard was sturdy enough to protect her sofa. She could tell he was very wet and must have peed himself on more than one occasion to get his nappy into such a state.

He continued to tell her of all the things that had happened that drew him to his final conclusion, of being coerced into wetting at a very early age by a rogue doctor intent on some research on captive kids in hospital.

“I need you to find that trigger and, well, pull it out of me, er, if that’s what you can do.”

He looked hopeful, and at the same time, a bit down now he’d finished his argument and waited for the good doctor to do her stuff.

She responded that it was a hell of a tale, one that warranted further investigation.


Susan looked surprised at this verdict thinking that Ian’s mind had gone completely gaga and that perhaps the doctor should be looking for a different answer. Then she caught a little look that crossed between the two ladies and she knew that the psychiatrist didn’t think Ian’s explanation was real, even if he thought so, but that perhaps other influences might be at play.

The fact that he was sitting in his soaked nappy without any of the other so called ‘influences’ coming into play; no flashing lights, no subtle shading, no sleep or dreams, no anything, to Dr Ivy this denoted more doubt on his claim. But of course she didn’t voice her reservations, instead she smiled and nodded enthusiastically and said that she’d do what she could for him.

Meanwhile, she wanted to know what was happening in his life at the moment; any major changes, any new friends, new job… anything worrying or exciting on the horizon.


After such a major breakthrough, Ian thought the therapist would be all over it and keen to find the trigger that had been the bane of his life for so long. He wanted action, he also wanted some kind of approval from Dr Ivy that he’d done a great job in what he’d self-discovered and the fact she wanted to talk about other stuff he found a bit of a come down.

However, she was smiling and from her attitude didn’t doubt what he had told her and from experience knew that she always wanted more and more information… it’s just how psychiatrists operated.

As he settled back into the sofa he realised for the first time just how wet he was. Even he could not only feel the immense dampness but see the yellowing fabric that peaked down his shorts leg.

“Oh, er, mum, er, I think I need…”

Although she’d been aware for quite some time she asked her son what the problem was.

“I’m very wet and I haven’t brought any…”

“Sorry sweetheart but neither have I.”

They both looked at the doctor but, even though she had such supplies in her office, decided to let Ian sit like he was until she was ready to let him change.

She had an idea that his sopping wet nappy was just about to reveal its true meaning to Ian.


To be continued….


Part 6

Doctor Ivy wanted to re-cap, not about Ian’s dream but about what had led up to it.

Because of what she already knew from his mother the therapist was able to lead the conversation and ask Ian questions that on the surface appeared to have little or nothing to do with his problem.

“Your mother tells me you have a lovely girlfriend… Paula isn’t it?”

Ian was a bit exasperated with his mum for making it easy for the psychiatrist to change the subject but noticed how proud she was he actually had a girlfriend. They’d always liked each other and appeared to get on really well whenever in the other’s company. He didn’t know about the phone call from Paula to his mother and he didn’t know how much Dr Ivy already knew so answered her questions as blandly as he could.

He wanted to get on with what he perceived as the main reason he was there, to get rid of the ‘trigger’ that was making him wet his self.

However, the therapist’s approach to each question didn’t feel like she was probing just friendly interest.

Eventually he talked about Paula in glowing terms and said what a great girl she was, even his mother chipped in with a few positive comments that Ian appreciated.


Paula and Ian had made the move from just friends to being girlfriend and boyfriend after they were the only two left together at a party. They had liked each other for a while but neither had made the move or even suggested they take things further.

She knew about his nappies, everyone did, and was reluctant to make a move on him… considering his prettiness and innocence, together with those nappies, a bit too much to take on-board. That was until that moment…

That moment when talking changed from just amiable chat to deep interest. Smiles and giggles turned from friendly nonentities into meaningful exchanges. But the main thing was that innocent flirting actually led them to that first kiss and rapidly to having sex. Paula’s surprising acceptance, and then rapid desire of, his plastic pants – led to something that has become a fundamental part of their relationship.

She loved his naivety, he loved her experience … she loved his slippery pants, he loved her nakedness.


“Well, what does Paula think about you wearing a nappy?”

For some reason Ian hadn’t seen this most obvious of question coming and hesitated in response.

In her own inimitable style the doctor pushed for an answer and he had to admit that Paula didn’t mind, in fact she liked that he was ‘different’.

This gentle interrogation carried on for a while and Ian felt less and less sure about why he was there. Doctor Ivy then asked him about his earliest recollection of his time in hospital. Ian started reeling off what he thought were facts…

“No, no, no,” the psychiatrist gently admonished, “not from your dream, but when you were three… what do you remember?”

Caught off guard Ian began to stumble over his words because he suddenly realised that he might well be confusing memory and dreams. However, the doctor was good at her job and didn’t let Ian feel he was being put on the spot, or accused of anything, she just wanted him to relax and remember what it was like in the hospital with all those other kids.


When he thought about it, the Children’s Wing wasn’t that big, it only had about eight beds, although, in his dream it had been a place at least twice that size. In reality, his ward was full of children younger or around his age. He remembered now because he recalled the beds had rails up to stop the restless ones falling out, there may even have been rails up around all the beds. There weren’t in his dream.

His mother chipped in that the children’s wing of the hospital was quite large but the Dolphin Ward, (where Ian was) was a small paediatric ward for children with urinary problems and that she didn’t think she saw any patient over the age of five all the time he was there.

Now that his mother had voiced what she recollected it became clear that what he thought of as real was in fact a false (though intense) memory that had been supplanted by his dream. He would have sworn on oath about all the other older kids running about in their thick nappies but now…?

Ian slipped back further into his wet nappy as he began to realise that his dream had explained nothing but merely given him excuses. He felt his ‘definitive’ argument as to why he wet begin to grow feeble and become utter nonsense.

How stupid it had been to think that ‘being an observer’ had explained everything. How could he have been an observer? He was only three.

The next set of questions by the psychiatrist made him even less sure.

“Tell me about the month you stopped wetting.”


“I, uh, we, erm…”

The psychiatrist pushed him a little.

“What happened for you to stop wetting for a month. It must have been something fairly major don’t you think if for eighteen years you’d wet and suddenly you didn’t?”

“Um, er, well, I changed the room. Dad and I redecorated, er, changed the bed…”

He was confused because up until that that moment, and because of his ‘discovery’, he hadn’t thought that his room was anything but the shadowy cause of his nightly wetting.

His mother chipped in.

“It was still looking like a young teenager’s bedroom,” she smiled at her son, “the changes made it more… adult.”

“I see,” said the therapist, “and how did you feel about that?”

“Erm, I suppose it was about time. It had been like that for ages and I, er, I’m eighteen so I needed a bit of… er… sophistication.”

“Sophistication.” His mother mouthed the word at the same time Ian spoke it but the therapist was having none of it.

“Yes, but I asked how you felt about it. Were you happy with all the alterations, did you feel sad that a place you’d had since you were little was now somewhere different?”

She pursued the point.

“Ian, it’s your room so you must be attached to it in some way. You’ve spent most of your life living and sleeping in that place and, if I remember from our previous sessions, it was a place you loved.”

Ian shrugged.

“I still do, but, well,” he looked across at his mum wondering what she’d think. “I was sad to see my childhood go… I mean… I liked all the new stuff but it seemed an end to an era, or something, and I was…”

His voice had grown small and timid. He really didn’t have to say anything else because the look on his face said it all. He looked glum and upset.

Ian wriggled uncomfortably in his wet protection as yet another flush of pee joined the already thick saturated material, his miserable expression making him appear even younger.


“Tell me about the month rule.”

Dr Ivy knew she was getting through to Ian but needed just a little more info for him to realise what she’d suspected all along.

“The month rule?” Ian queried.

“Yes. Who decided that you had to go a month dry before you could change out of your protection and start to wear underwear?”

“I dunno, I suppose either mum or …dad perhaps? I really can’t remember.”

“Actually Ian, that’s not quite true.”

Both her son and psychiatrist turned to look as his mother continued.

“After the last time we’d visited Dr Ivy you moved up to a new school. You were so pleased with your new school uniform and excited at starting that you actually stopped wetting for days on end.”

She was unambiguous in the way she recalled the event.

“You’d go the entire school week without an accident either during the day or at night but at the weekend, well, you’d wake up soaked.”

She shrugged as if no further explanation was needed.

“We didn’t know whether to let you out of your nappy and put you into briefs like the other kids in your class, but it’s you who suggested the time scale.”

Ian looked quizzically at his mother, not quite believing the way she described the sequence of events.

“It was you who said that you thought if you could go an entire month without wetting then you would feel confident about wearing underwear all the time.”

She looked up and saw that Ian was finding this hard to comprehend.

“But didn’t dad say…”

“You father has always supported your decisions. He’s never pushed you in or out of your protection. He’s always been of the mind that you’ll finish with them when it suits you and, only you could make that judgment.”

“But, I, erm, I…”

“Sorry sweetheart but the entire family support you in or out of nappies but no one has ever put any restrictions on you… only you.”


She looked at him with love and understanding but thought he needed to realise just who made the decisions.

“Love, you took responsibility for all your protection from quite an early age.”

She stroked his arm in reassurance.

“When Gary and Tess were toddlers and still in nappies, you would be just as happy in their clothes as your own. You still wet at night and your father and I thought it was cute the way you loved your little brother and sister and joined in their games, often dressed just like them.”

Suddenly, suspecting that after all perhaps this was her and her husband’s fault she grimaced weakly.

“When they grew out of them, but you remained, we happily continued with things as they were but, and I think it was after one of our visits here to see the doctor here, you said you didn’t want to be a burden… well words to that effect.”

She looked across at the therapist for confirmation.

“You decided that you’d wash all your nappies and rubber pants as you said, and we thought this was very grown up of you for a ten year-old, that you didn’t want to give anyone any extra work because of your problem.”


Despite the thickness of the padding in his protection the entire thing was already filled to capacity when yet more pee escaped his bladder. It was no wonder that what had started life as a spotless white terry nappy was rapidly changing into those Autumnal colours.

The pale yellow was turning a darker shade though Ian appeared unaware of the transformation. However,but the two women could observe the see-thru, slippery plastic pants stretched tightly holding it all together as the entire bulky object slowly expanded.


Ian was in a quandary, he didn’t know what to think. Had he just wanted to stay wearing nappies all his life and if so… why? Surely as he grew up he’d want to be rid of the cumbersome things and yet, and yet…  

He remembered very recently, in fact just after his mother had cleaned him up after the sunny morning wetting, that he then soaked his fresh dry nappy on purpose. This sudden realisation, and the fact that he’d liked doing so, brought his entire dream scenario tumbling down around his head.

No longer was it showing him the reason why he wet, it was giving him the excuse to wet.

His sudden sexual prowess was to show Paula, and perhaps even himself, that his nappy didn’t stop him from being a man.

The nappy was not a hindrance to do anything… his nappy… his nap…

All those thoughts about nappies; the obsessive counting and matching them up to vinyl pants had simply been him indulging in his need for them. The fact was that over the years he’d had to wear them he’d never knowingly got rid of any even when they no longer fit or could be useful. He’d never thought about it before but he still had both his brothers and sisters old protection in his cupboards. He’d clung onto and used them in his head if not in a practical way.

He loved nappies and everything to do with them.

He loved how they felt; how they gripped him, how the vinyl slid up his legs and encased the fabric… he loved…


It was quickly becoming clear that Doctor Ivy Crawford had known this all along and the fact that he’d been sitting quite contentedly in his sodden nappy for a couple of hours seemed to add to her conclusion.

Ian wasn’t sure if a huge weight had been lifted from, or had landed on, his shoulders. If what Dr Ivy had reasoned was correct, and now he could see it was, it had been him all along who wanted to stay in nappies. It was he who made all the excuses and fought to retain them, even if, so it seemed, at any time he could have happily worn briefs or boxers.

“Nappies are just another style of underwear.” He’d heard his father say this whenever Ian had felt guilty and thinking that perhaps his dad was embarrassed by his eldest son still wearing them. Never once could he remember him, or the rest of the family, being anything but positive about his choice of ‘underwear’.

The revelation was both crushing and enlightening and Ian wasn’t sure which way this was all going to go. He searched the faces of both his mother and Doctor Ivy for some direction but although they were smiling and encouraging, it looked like he’d have to find his own way with this one.

“I don’t know what to do.” He sniffled. “Am I a bad or weird person for preferring to wear…” and rubbed the front of his engorged bulge.


Ian’s mother got up and put her arms around her confused son.

“Look sweetie, it doesn’t matter to us, to anyone in the family what you choose to wear, it never has. Your new room, your lovely girlfriend, your recent coming-of-age birthday all seem to have conspired to make you re-think your situation.”

The psychiatrist took over.

“You panicked.”

She shrugged, smiled and put her comforting hand on his arm.

“You’ve had a severe panic attack which has left you more than a little confused.”

Ian looked up at the psychiatrist as if the say – surely it’s more than that.

“Growing up can be quite traumatic and I suspect for someone like you, who still prefers wearing a nappy, something that is ultimately too big a load to carry. The mind is a wonderful thing but it can also be a devious little so and so at times.”

She patted his shoulder.

“Perhaps you aren’t prepared yet to wear boxers or briefs, and the ‘adult’ connotations those items mean to you, but the pressures over the last month or so to be, and do, something you aren’t ready for has been, simply overwhelming.”

The therapist looked down at the engorged package that was even more visible below his shorts and tried to be encouraging.

“I would say that you have a ‘fetish’ for nappies.”

Both Ian and his mother looked shocked at her words.

“I know that word often has negative implications but I would say in this case it doesn’t. If you substitute that word for ‘passion’ then perhaps you’ll see it isn’t bad at all.”


Despite the growing soggy mass between his legs Ian was pulling all the information into place and beginning to understand his position in this entire experience.

“Tell me,” the therapist said, “how did you think I’d be able to remove the ‘trigger’?”

“I s’pose I thought, as the doctor had used… sorry… I thought he’d used hypnosis that you’d be able to do the same.”

“Now you see things differently… what do you want to happen?”

Ian shrugged and sighed heavily not really knowing what to do or say next.

The psychiatrist examined the yellowing nappy that was becoming more and more obvious with every minute.

“You’ve been sitting around in that very sodden nappy for a couple of hours now so… I have a room where you can change.”

“We haven’t brought anything for me to change into… so…”

He shrugged again, more or less accepting that he’d have to wear the water-logged bulk home.

Doctor Ivy pointed to a small ante-room further down the hall.

In there you will find all you need to get cleaned up.


With some difficulty he shuffled to his feet but there was no hiding the flooded mass hanging between his legs as he ambled towards the door. Even his shiny plastic pants looked like they were on the verge of bursting as he waddled forward.

For a second he stopped. He was wondering if either his mother or Doctor Ivy wanted to change him.

However, it was as if the psychiatrist had read his mind.

“Don’t think you are getting any help from us… this is your decision so, as always, it is up to you.”


As he disappeared behind the door Susan and Doctor Ivy had a private chat.

“Is he going to be OK? I mean, well, he’s eighteen and we’ve always wondered if we should do more to stop him…”

Susan was confused and full of personal blame which the therapist was quick to alleviate.

“Look, Susan, Ian made his decision many years ago and I think you and the family have handled it all very, very well. Don’t beat yourself up over something that is really harming no one.”

Susan smiled weakly.

“It seems to me that with Paula by his side, a supportive family and a new awareness about what he enjoys… things might well change but if not… “

The psychiatrist shrugged with a smile as if to say it was not the worst problem in the world.


In the ante-room Ian found a supply of wipes, creams, lotions and several packs of disposables, one of which was his size. He also saw a pack of paper disposable panties and a couple of pairs of medical cotton briefs that would also fit.

He slipped the shorts down but struggled out of his plastic pants and unpinned the soaked material. There was no doubt about it the pants had been doing a fine job holding it all in because trickles turned into a river as he slid the entire mess down his legs.

He took time cleaning himself up making sure that he was thorough, wiping every crevice before applying the lotion. For a few seconds he stood naked wondering what his next action should be. His hand wavered over the disposable panties, the disposable nappies and the cotton briefs before making a decision.

He was still deliberating over the options as he sprinkled the powder over his crotch and rubbed the soft, sweet-smelling chalky substance into his raw bottom. Sitting around in wet terry cloth for too long was not a good idea. He scooped up the sodden mass, pushed it into a black bin bag and then sighed a huge sigh.

Typical of Ian he looked around the small room making sure he was leaving it tidy, straightening the piles of disposables and lining up the powder and lotion.

When he’d finished that procedure he smiled to himself and looked down at his crotch – the rule was simple - whilst he wet, he retained his nappy.

The End

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