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Baby Dick                                                                                                                      By Les Lea

I’m sitting in the doctor’s office stripped down to my underwear awaiting his arrival and I’m feeling cold and vulnerable. The thin cream nylon curtain that separates me and the plastic padded bed I’m sitting on from his surgery still allows me to hear him whispering to a nurse, whilst tapping away at his computer keyboard. I wish he’d hurry up and start his examination as I’m bored of looking at the blue hygienic paper sheet that covers the bed and the rather large, scary-looking chrome implement that I can just see through the crack in the flimsy drape.

Even though I’m expecting it, the sudden noise as he pulls back the curtain makes me jump.

“Don’t be scared Michael, I’m only going to examine you.”

His words are gentle but I’m still on edge as he places a stethoscope against my chest and begins.  He weighs, measures, taps, pokes, and peers into every part of my anatomy though it’s a worry when he shuffles down my underwear and cups my genitals.

I look over at mum and dad who are sitting on plastic chairs only a few feet away watching this process.

The doctor addresses them rather than me whenever he has a question or makes a comment.

“He’s very undeveloped for a thirteen year old.”

He continues the examination by feeling my penis and searching for my balls.

He looks over at my parents and tells them I may be suffering from something, but he says it in doctor-speak so I have no idea what he means. However, the word ‘micropenis’ is in there somewhere and I understand that.

Eventually he stops his prodding and poking and pulls up my underwear, which is a thick fabric nappy and tells me that I should relax. I lay out on the paper covered padded bed and he pops in a large dummy that has suddenly appeared on a ribbon around my neck. He then pulls a soft, fleecy baby blue blanket up over me and tells me again to relax whilst he speaks to my parents.

“Is there anything that can be done for him?” I hear mother say.

“An operation or drugs?” Dad adds.

“Look…. Mr and Mrs Smith… it’s perfectly simple… your boy doesn’t want to grow up. His tiny baby sized penis is him trying to tell you… he wants to stay a baby.”

“Really?” Both my parent’s chorus.

“It’s perfectly normal for a boy his age. What with the pressures of becoming a teenager… it’s too much stress, so he wants to go back to being looked after… not have to make decisions… to be without responsibilities. His baby sized penis, lack of pubic hair and his soft babyish features… well; it’s his way of telling you this.”

I’m shocked by what the doctor is saying but my nappy is hugging me tightly, the fleecy blanket is very comforting and so is sucking on my dummy. I feel myself drift off as my parents continue their discussion with my GP.


I wake up and I’m back in my own bedroom. It’s the smallest room in the house and whilst my older brother Paul and sister Helen have larger rooms, this one suits me as it’s mine… and it’s very, very cosy. I’ve made it my fortress; with all my favourite popstar posters pinned up on the wall. My white closet and chest of drawers keep my clothes nicely stored away, whilst the shelf that runs around three of the walls hold a few books but also my favoured toys and stuffed animals (I have quite a menagerie) who look on and keep me company.

It must be getting near morning as I can see a glow around the window frame but checking the clock shows it’s not time to get up for school yet. I sigh in relief although know that this Monday is going to be a bit of a trial for me.

I lay there warm and cosy under my covers, though a sudden thought made me check myself. Thankfully, I hadn’t had an accident and my PJs were dry so I wriggled, wondering why, for the second night in a row, I’d had such a similar weird dream.


Actually, I guess I know why - the Friday before I was walking home from school when Cuddy Cudthorpe and his gang of bullies ambushed me near the local park, bundled me through some bushes and stripped me naked. Well, not completely naked, they left me wearing a thick disposable with ‘Baby Dick’ written in thick black letters across the white material, front and back.

I tried to fight them off but five burly fifteen year olds had the upper hand, especially as I’m thirteen and a bit of a wimp, physically and mentally. Ever since it became public knowledge, well amongst the school, that I was under endowed, he’d made it his job to terrify and belittle me at every opportunity.

Of course, like most bullies, he does his nasty deeds when only he or he and his friends are present, so it’s difficult to prove any of my allegations. But it is true that I have a smaller than perhaps normal penis, certainly a great deal smaller than my older brother, unfortunately, mine had been noticed in the showers after gym and swimming lessons by my class. I got a load of ribbing from my class mates but then it got to the ears of Cuddy and since then he seemed to take great delight in never missing an opportunity of referring to me as ‘Baby Dick’.

He’s gone out of his way to leave those two words emblazoned on my locker, my books and on the walls of the toilet. Now loads of the school refer to me by that name, which has pleased him no end. However, being embarrassed at school obviously just wasn’t enough for him so he decided to go public. That’s why the attack; he wanted to publicly humiliate me, which he did. I had to walk home wearing a loose fitting, soaked diaper (I was crying and scared) and it must have made his day as he held me down and in fear began to pee myself.

He and his mates took photos, cheered about the ‘fun’ we were all having but left me crying in a heap and I still had to find my way the mile and a half home wearing what I had on and looking like I did. It was a warm afternoon but it didn’t seem to faze anyone that a boy my age should be crying and wearing a sagging nappy; although, at that time of day it was mostly school children on their way home and not many grown-ups. No one stopped to offer me help. Even other pupils from the school crossed over the road or giggled at my distress, no doubt knowing it was Cuddy’s doing and not wanting to be the next in line for his ‘practical jokes’.

When I arrived home my school uniform was strewn around the garden, everything that is apart from my underpants. I got the message - they thought I was a baby and didn’t need ‘big boy’ pants. Cuddy’d whispered this at school and also while he bundled me into my current disposable that, with a dick like mine, I should always wear nappies.


Although more than a little traumatised there was no one else at home when I arrived so didn’t have to explain anything to anybody. I picked up my clothes and let myself in and waddled up to my room, the wet disposable sagging dangerously low as I climbed the stairs. I stood in front of the mirror and surveyed myself. My eyes were dark rings, tearstains ran down my cheeks and yet, those two words ‘Baby Dick’ emblazoned on the now pitifully full disposable didn’t hold any horror for me. In fact, since my situation had become common knowledge, the taunting and comments had strangely made me more popular… well, perhaps what I mean is, more people knew who I was - ‘Baby Dick’.

I’d never been popular at school, not that I didn’t have friends but to be popular you had to be someone, or have done something, and that just wasn’t me. I excelled in being the very opposite of astounding.

However, back to my mirror image - I haven’t worn a nappy since I was three years old, and, although my penis hadn’t grown a great deal since, the doctors said that my small penis is just nature – some people have massive ones, others small, whilst most are just normal. Its size had never really bothered me because until the comments at school, it wasn’t an issue. However, with all the name calling and references to me being a baby I began to think more and more about what it would be like being a toddler again and not have to put up with all this aggravation… and surprise, surprise, I didn’t mind the idea.

This was probably why, in my dreams, the doctor was telling my parents my small penis was my way of saying I wanted to be a baby – that dream (and the hundred or so times a day ‘Baby Dick’ was shouted at me across the school yard) had a strange effect on me. It sort of instilled that idea deep in my conscious and subconscious.

However, and here’s the strange part, I’d had similar dreams before the Cuddy incident. These last two nights hadn’t been the only ones where I was a toddler. The difference was, in the current dreams it was me insisting on being treated as a little kid. Before, in fact way before, I’d had thoughts and dreams where I was a baby, and it wasn’t just my family insisting that’s what I should be, it was everyone. These mental images would just swamp in and for a few seconds it would be like... real... but then I’d come to my senses and just get on with whatever it was I was doing... and more or less tried to ignore it all.


I was standing still looking at myself in the mirror when I peed a little more. The full disposable warming slightly but under the extra weight finally gave up hanging on and collapsed to the floor leaving me staring at my mini penis.

To me it didn’t look that small, except in comparison to my brother Paul; who has quite a large one. I know he’s sixteen and more developed than me but he and my sister take after my father’s side of the family, whilst I take after mum. So, whereas dad is tall and strong, mum is blonde and petite and that’s who I get my slim physique and blue eyes from.

I suppose in other ways I haven’t kept up to my classmates in maturity- for instance, I still haven’t sprouted much in the way of pubic hair, my voice doesn’t appear to have broken and the things I like on TV are more likely stuff that a seven or eight year old might prefer. Oh yes, you know the menagerie I spoke about, I take it in turns sleeping with them all. I love cuddling my stuffed animals and have never once thought it odd doing so even at my age.

Mum has had me at the doctors on several occasions and tests have indicated that there is no growth problem, it will all sort itself out and that I’m quite normal, just developing at a different rate to everyone else.

Being the youngest in the family has always meant that I’m treated as the baby, someone who needs looking after. Both my brother and sister have always been very supportive and loving. As a tot I was always hopping from my bed and creeping into theirs if I got scared or had a bad dream. I was never thrown out. I remember Paul once saying he enjoyed these times because he could protect his little brother. Helen remarked that she loved it because I was like a warm, wriggly little teddy bear. Even as I’ve gotten older they seem to still think of me in this way – I’m still their baby brother. Both they and my parents are highly protective of me and I’m so glad to live in such a loving household.


Monday and another school day; I arrived and everyone was laughing and pointing at ‘Baby Dick’. Even my close friends were smiling and nodding as if they were in on some fantastic secret. I was soon to find out what they all knew and I didn’t.

Posters of me wearing the disposable, with a very yellow front, which I’m sure had been photo-shopped, had been erected around the school yard as well as on some noticeboards in school. It took the teachers sometime to collect them all and then the inquest started.

Of course I accused Cudthorpe but he and his friends denied everything, even saying that I’d been spreading lies about them and that they wouldn’t be surprised if I hadn’t done it myself to gain some kind of notoriety. Of course no teacher believed this accusation but, without evidence one way or the other, they couldn’t go any further with mine.

However, come break time I was surprised how many people were sympathetic to my situation and thought how brave I was to remain in school. Of course there were still those who were glorying in my embarrassment but because of those who were more supportive I didn’t let them bother me as much.

There was a school full of kids now aware that I’d been wearing a nappy, whether they thought it was voluntary or not I don’t think mattered to them. So, as each passed they patted my bum to see if ‘Baby Dick’ was wearing one to school. It got pretty annoying but I was powerless to stop it. I think they were very disappointed when they couldn’t feel any padding.

“Baby Dick, why aren’t you wearing your nappy?”

Some accused as if they’d been cheated of the opportunity to see for themselves this baby in their midst.

“Baby Dick should be in a nappy” was whispered when some people passed by, other times it was hollered across the playground so ignoring it was more difficult.


However, one boy in particular was very sympathetic; his name Quentin, Quentin Timothy Farron to be exact, who was the butt of everybody’s nastiness. He was around the same age and size as me, except where I was blond he was dark, but he’d accrued the accolade of being the school’s BIG SISSY.

“Sissy” was spat at him at every opportunity but he didn’t appear to mind, if he did he hid it well. He was gently spoken, unassuming and impeccably dressed... three points that made him definitely, as far as the rest of the school was concerned, a huge certified sissy.

Although I knew him as we were in the same class, we weren’t particular friends even though we did have quite a bit in common. Neither of us were good at sport, we couldn’t throw a ball to save our lives, and gym was a constant torture. We were scared of swimming and clung to the floats as if our lives depended on it, which as far as we were concerned it did. We were both unhappy about appearing naked (apart from swimming trunks) in public and always wrapped a towel around us when we changed. We preferred our own company but were frequently disturbed by other kids and older bullies venting their hostilities on us.

Quentin had a good way of scaring his adversaries off... he just screamed as loudly as he could until, a teacher came. Usually by then his aggressors would have run off so he was left to explain himself to the grown-ups. He would just shrug and go about his business.

When I was in a similar position I usually got verbally and physically abused... often punched by these macho bullying kids... but I stayed painfully silent and intimidated. Although few people laid a finger on Quentin, I don’t know if that was because his dad was a cop or what, but even though he was constantly being picked on, he didn’t suffer the bruises I often came away with.

Quentin Timothy Farron (or Quite The Fuckup as it said on his monogrammed school bag once) saw the wounded look on my face as everyone around was laughing at the poster-sized images of me in a disposable.

“This is awful,” he whispered as he nervously approached. “I hope those bullying cunts die.”

I was shocked by his language (it was a word I’d heard but never used and in fact I wasn’t sure what it meant). His mother was well known in the church group and his father was high up in the police force, so it came as a bit of a surprise he even knew such an expression.

He patted my shoulder. “I hope you’ll be okay...”

And that was it as he drifted off to class.

For a bullied sissy he certainly carried himself well; no cowering, trying to hide away. He had a certain elegance; from his pristine school uniform and well-polished shoes, right through to his quiet but determined personality. He was the only one who actually seemed genuinely upset on my behalf and I appreciated his bravery in even speaking to me at that point.


That night I wasn’t sure if word about the incident would get to my parents so I decided to get it out in the open and tell them what had happened. They were suitably angry with the victimization and the cruel ‘prank’ that had been played on me. They wanted to make a big deal about it, threatening to complain to the school and taking issue with Cuddy but I begged them to let it drop. Paul wanted to beat Cuddy up but as much as I love my big brother, I don’t think even he would come off better between Cuddy and his gang. Cuddy was a bully but he was also an out and out thug.

All I could see was things getting worse and Cuddy being pleased with himself for thinking he was making my life a misery. He was the type of person, from that type of family, who revelled in their own controversial reputation. No one liked them, and everyone gave them a wide berth, they delighted in their notoriety.

The following day and my locker and desk were stuffed full of disposables and an assortment of baby gear.  It seemed that a few ‘jokers’ had stolen their baby brother’s and sister’s trappings and loaded it on me. I nearly threw up when I discovered a shitty and soaked disposable shoved in my locker but I didn’t want to give the audience that had gathered the satisfaction.

Once again what was meant as humiliation had a very strange effect. I gathered up all the baby products (except the soiled nappy) and piled them into my locker with every intention of sorting through them at home because an idea was fermenting in my brain.

I was desperately trying to look hurt and hard done by. I attempted to appear careworn and upset by it all but the truth was, all these things had given me an opportunity; it was an opportunity I was keen to exploit.

Once I got home (I walked with friends now) I let myself in and, armed with a backpack full of baby stuff, headed up to my room. I knew it would be an hour or so before anyone else got in so I spread out the contents to examine precisely what my ‘school mates’ had left by way of a ‘joke’.

Four Disposables

One thick terry nappy

One pair of see thru plastic pants

2 Dummies

1 Rattle

Set of four large safety pins

A toy duck

And lastly a bib that had ‘Mummy’s messy girl’ written in white on a pink background (it still had the remains of some child’s meal crusted into it).

What a witty lot my fellow students were.



Part 2

I stood pondering for a little while, wondering if at thirteen what I was planning on doing was a good or bad idea.

There was no doubt about it, certain things had been buzzing around in my head for some time now. Whether this was made more apparent because of the ‘Cuddy incident’, or because that merely seemed to confirm something else, I wasn’t too sure. What I did know was that the last few dreams I’d been having all pointed to me wanting to wear a nappy... to be a baby.

Oddly, this desire didn’t seem to be that much of a ‘big deal’ to me. Although I hadn’t worn a nappy since I’d been potty trained, my dreams indicated that I wasn’t averse to the idea. Indeed, it could be argued (possibly) that I’d simply been putting off the inevitable.

I stood for a few moments naked in front of the mirror. I ran my hands over my soft juvenile body and cupped my balls. I have small hands so my genitals felt the right size; warm, smooth and soft resting in my palm. I ran my other hand over my bottom and turned slightly to see what I looked like. It was as if I was looking at myself for the first time with any degree of judgement. In the past it was simply my body and though I lived with it, I had never either inspected it or given it much thought... but now?

When I mentally conjured up thoughts of my friends at school I could see the difference in our developments, or rather, my lack of such. Kevin, my best mate, although the same age as me was hairy, well-developed and very much a boy; I, on the other hand, was very much an underdeveloped version of myself and still maintained the supple outline of a child. Perhaps surprisingly, my small, immature physique didn’t worry me… it was just the way I’m made but, nagging away in some dark recess, was an urge… and an urge I was about to explore.


I reached for the terry towel square and folded it like I thought was appropriate. I had never done this before so it was only through having seen such things done on TV that I thought I had an idea about how these things worked. I lay it out on my bed and grabbed a couple of the pins. Pulling it up between my legs I thought the material felt quite rough and couldn’t really imaging a baby liking such a thing pinned around its bits and bobs.

I suddenly thought how much more comfy the one I was forced to wear by Cuddy just a few days earlier had been. Despite the trauma at the time I was now comparing that scary and forced incident onto what I was doing myself. It felt really odd, even briefly, to be thinking in such a way but the forced disposable felt a lot softer than the fabric one I was trying to fit into.

Eventually, after several unsuccessful attempts, I finally managed to pin it into place. The material felt coarse but, as I lay on the bed, my reflection looked fine. I sat up and slowly waddled over to the mirror for a better inspection. There was no huge bulkiness to it, although I thought the big pins made it look suitably childish, but was very loose and immediately sagged around my hairless knees.

I bent down and shimmied it back up my thighs, grasping tightly to the material and wondering how to make it stay up.

“The plastic pants help hold it in place.”

It was Helen my sister at my bedroom door. Obviously I’d been daydreaming for longer than I’d thought and time had simply slipped by without noticing.

I was a little stunned to hear her words, and although I was slightly anxious at what she might be thinking, I really wasn’t that worried about her discovering what I was doing.

“I’m not sure I want that…” I said as I ran my hands over the fabric, “these feel really rough.”

She came up behind me and looked at all the items laid out on the bed.

“More stuff left by the school jokers...” I tried to explain.

She nodded and examined the plastic pants.

“Not sure if these will fit but…”

She picked them up and stretched them as wide as they’d go and spread them out for me to attempt to climb into.

They were tight but she shuffled them up my legs and the nappy was gripped firmly and held in place. It was as if she thought a nappy wasn’t a strange thing to see me dressed in.

She stood back and inspected her handiwork.

“Mmmm, not sure…” she smoothed them out and pushed any of the exposed material behind the plastic cover. “Well, are they comfortable?”


It didn’t even occur to me that Helen had not found any of this process strange. She had seen I needed help and simply pitched in as she’d always done if I was in difficulties or needed a problem solved.

She stood behind me and we saw each other in the mirror. Even though she was only a couple of years older than me, she looked so much more mature. I was smaller than her and, with her youthful breasts more than adequately filling the front of her school blouse she looked like a girl bursting into womanhood. On the other hand, the image that stared back at me was that of an immature boy who didn’t look out of place wearing a nappy.

The thing was, at that moment, and with my big sister in charge, I wasn’t unhappy about my situation.

“I guess all this has something to do with last Friday?” She whispered in my ear.

I nodded but added. “Yes but, erm, well, it’s something more… I mean…”  I shrugged suddenly unable to voice my concerns.

“What is it Mikey… you know you can talk to me about anything.”

It’s true I could. In fact, our family didn’t like secrets and more especially didn’t like to see anyone suffer if they could help.

My head was a jumble of things to say, though I’m not certain if I could have put it into any semblance of thought.

Was I trying to reclaim my independence by showing ‘them’ that they couldn’t intimidate me?

Was I using ‘their’ joke back against them by wearing it to prove their little japes had no effect?

What was the reason...?

 “Well,” I pointed to my reflection again, “what do you see?”

Helen smiled, “Just my favourite little brother.”

She hugged me.

“Exactly… little… L.I.T.T.L.E. I’m not growing up…”

“But you will Mikey; we all grow at different speeds and…”

I know she was trying to be sympathetic but that wasn’t what I wanted to say to her.

“Helen, that’s not it. I… I… erm… I… ummm…”

She waited patiently whilst I got my thoughts into some kind of order.

“Erm… when Cuddy and his friends forced me into that disposable… umm… although I was terrified by it all…errr… when I thought about it… ummm… it wasn’t so... bad.”

I was watching Helen in the mirror to see how she reacted to what I was saying.

She sighed and then ran her hand over my plastic pants.

“Are you saying that you think you might like… this?”

“I don’t know. What I do know is that for quite some time now I’ve… I’ve felt like Peter Pan… you know… never gonna grow up.”

“Has it been worrying you?”

“Well, erm, what has been worrying me is that I’m thinking about it all the time.”

As I was saying this I could hear “Baby Dick”, “Baby Dick”, “Baby Dick” being chanted in my head.

“I don’t know what to say Mikey.”

Nor did I.  All I really knew was that Cuddy making me wear what he did seemed somehow to make sense. Although I cried all the way home and was embarrassed by the event… it wasn’t the actual nappy that caused it. It may have been the realisation about me.

I looked down at my feet in shame at what I’d just told my sister and I could see my toes awkwardly curling up in the carpet. The dreams I’d been having recently also filled my head and all I could think about were the doctor’s words “He wants to be a baby.” At that same moment, and totally unannounced, I felt a spurt of pee shoot into the front of my nappy.


Where that action came from I have no idea although seconds later remembered that I’d peed in the disposable last Friday without giving it much thought.

I felt my nappy grow warm and there was no disputing what I’d done as the front of the coarse fabric began to absorb the liquid and turn a slight off-yellow colour.

Helen looked on astonished.

“Oh Mikey… have you just wet yourself?”

With a shiver of recognition I just sadly nodded.

“Did you realise…”

I shrugged my shoulders and shook my head.

Ever practical, my sister was immediately on the ball.

“Look, you can’t stay wearing this…”  Again she stroked the front of my slippery plastic pants. “You aren’t wearing any nappy rash cream and if you stay in it too long it will begin to irritate.”

Those nights of babysitting the neighbour’s kids were really paying off.

She was already pulling the tight-fitting plastic pants down and with them came my soaked nappy.

I was like a statue – I just let it happen. I was too stunned to say or do anything but Helen eased me out of the wet things and grabbed a towel from on top of my drawers. She wiped me down and sent me off to the bathroom to sponge myself clean.

When I arrived back Helen had found some cream and powder and had a disposable unfurled and ready for me.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” I said in a quiet voice as I peered out from behind the thick towel I was drying myself on.

As usual my sister was determined and matter-of-fact.

“Mikey,” she raised her eyebrows so I knew she meant business. “You appear to be going through some strange shi… er… problems at the moment and if you don’t even realise when you piss your pants, you need to take some precautions until you can work out…”

“No, no I’ll be okay it’s just…”

“You’re not okay Mikey. Something is happening in your head and until you… or we… can work out what it is… you need to stay protected.”

By this time she’d taken me by the arm and led me over to the bed where everything was laid out.

“So, for the time being at least let’s get you sorted so we have some degree of control...”


She didn’t finish what she was saying as a look of determination came over her face and started rubbing cream into my tiny penis and balls. This was followed by a blanket of powder (which had me giggling there was so much of it) and finally she taped the disposable into position.

Feeling the soft thick disposable being pulled up between my legs reminded me of when Cubby and his mates had done the same – thankfully, there were no slaps or punches. Helen was much gentler. However, the fit was a lot tighter and I could get up off the bed without feeling it was going to fall down at any moment… also I wasn’t crying.elen had sorted out some powderH


She tossed me my pyjamas and indicated I should put them on and even though it wasn’t yet 6pm, I did as suggested.

Luckily my pjs were fairly loose and the bottoms easily pulled over the slightly more bulky underwear. However, there was no denying the bulge that now occupied that area. Whereas my usual small genitals hardly produced a tiny lump, now with the padding I’d gained a profile of some distinction.

Yep, the baby padding had given me a bulge where I hadn’t had much of one before; I snickered to myself at this apparent contradictory revelation.


Meanwhile she was ploughing through the rest of the items I’d brought home.

She tossed aside one of the disposables and the dirty bib.

“These will be way too small.”


She shrugged as she checked the toys and dummies but after looking at the array of stuffed animals surrounding the room tossed them back on the bed.

She picked up the wet nappy and plastic pants and said: “These will need washing and you’ll need a bit more padding so that it doesn’t feel so rough.”

I shrugged and nodded, I wasn’t sure what to think but I quite liked my reflection – standing in just my pjs with the obvious lump at my crotch. I ran my hand over it and it felt so smooth; I was grateful for that soft, yet flattering, large bulge.

Helen watched as I teased the fabric under my pjs and in all honesty I was enjoying the surprising comfort it offered. I stroked my padded backside and loved the squashy cushion that now made up my rear.

“Helen, is it wrong… you know… to… ermmm… like…”

“Mikey, we all like different things… I can’t say how mum and dad will react but…”

I pulled my pyjama bottoms down and looked more closely at the way Helen had fastened the disposable. I liked the way the tapes dragged the material in tightly over my tummy, I liked the smoothness of the white, shiny, plastic-looking fabric holding me in such a comfortable embrace.

My head was full of strange thoughts. Was all this baby stuff from school planned? Was I being led into a state of mind I had no control over? Was I letting my imagination run away with itself?

There was no denying liking what I was seeing in my reflection. My small frame seemed to compliment the disposable and a sense of the inevitable shuddered through my body. Why was I so happy about all this?


The nappy and plastic pants had looked good to me but this looked better. I wondered if plastic pants would improve the look but as Helen had them in her hand, and they were on their way to be washed, I didn’t get a chance to check. However, I was very pleased with what I was wearing and couldn’t stop stroking myself and watching my mirror image. The expression on my face was one of wonder and pleasure.

Helen watched my reaction for a few seconds before adding.

“When everyone is home you need to tell them your thoughts and what’s happening to you.”

I looked her in disbelief.

“Can’t I just…?”

“Look Mikey, this…” and she indicated not only my padded outline but the rest of my room, “is who and what you are now” She paused before she went on. “But, you might feel different in a week, maybe a month or so… and I think you’ll appreciate the family being with you on whatever you decide.”

My sister speaks so much better than my mind works. I’d never be able to find the correct words. I’m hopeless at getting my point of view over even in class. I just tend to go along with what everyone else decides but, this was about me and I’d never got anything less than total support from my family. Of course I wasn’t going to argue with Helen; I didn’t argue with anybody, I’d do as I’m told.

“I’m off to start making dinner… mum and dad will be home in half an hour,” She heard the door slam downstairs. “Sounds like Paul’s home … I’ll put these on to wash as well” She said as she exited the room waving my wet nappy.

I was alone with my reflection. I saw the rattle on the bed and was drawn to it. I’m not sure why a baby should find such entertainment in the noisy thing but after a couple of shakes I grew bored.

I picked up a dummy and wondered about trying that out. It looked clean enough but I had no idea where it had been so passed on that for the time being. However, surprisingly I found as I was looking around and thinking I was sucking my thumb.

I lay out on my bed and found it incredibly easy to relax; there was definitely something about wearing a nappy that made me feel ‘different’.  I sucked my thumb more, closed my eyes and just let go. Without any effort on my part I filled the front with a slow warming pee before I drifted off to sleep.


Mum was home first and Helen had a quick chat explaining what she’d discovered with Michael.

“I think that incident last week with the school bullies has had more of an effect than he’s letting on.”

“Really dear, why do you say that?” She replied whilst taking off her coat and hanging it up in the hallway.

She told her about the conversation and what Mikey had said then beckoned her upstairs to see for herself.

She was surprised to see her youngest, fast asleep, with his thumb slick between his lips and wearing what was obviously a disposable peaking over the top of his jammy bottoms.

After what she’d just been told she was shocked but her heart went out to him.

“Poor little mite… he looks so vulnerable.”

“Yes,” Helen slipped her finger under his waistband, “and he’s wet again.”





Part 3

“Wake up honey.”

I hadn’t realised I’d dropped off yet here was mum smiling down and encouraging me to ‘wake up’.

“Oh sorry, must have dozed off.” I mumbled an apology. “What time is it?”

“It’s not late but,” she patted my padding, which I suddenly grasped I still had on and was wet. “I think we need to sort something else out first.”

I looked across at Helen wondering if she’d said anything. She was just smiling and nodding in an encouraging way.

Mum’s voice was pleasant, she didn’t appear cross or anything, but I think she could tell I was a bit embarrassed and worried.

I was left wondering... I wasn’t sure what to make of this development.  However, there was no concealing the fact I was wearing a wet nappy.

I wasn’t sure if mum meant me to go down as I was or change and then go down but my thoughts were a little cockeyed so I thought I’d better get a move on and go as I was.


I arrived at the table where mum, dad, Helen and Paul were already seated. I hung nervously in the doorway not sure what to say or do but dad just smiled and told me to come and take my seat.

I did but crinkled as I sat down and was sure someone was going to laugh... in fact they all did but it wasn’t mocking laughter, more a ‘share your joke’ type of thing.

“Well son,” dad started, “this is quite a development.”

Mum took up the discussion.

“You’ve had a terrible few days sweetheart, and we all know it must be very disturbing and, we want to support you in any way we can...”

“I’d like to beat the crap out of him...”

“I don’t think violence is the answer”. Mum and dad said as one but my brother held his defiance.

Mum continued. “We can see it’s had an effect on you.”

I wriggled in my thick wet disposable which crinkled softly now I was sat on it.

“Mum, dad,” I looked around the table, “there’s, erm, um, more to it than Cuddy and his gang.”

I knew this next bit of the conversation was going to be hard but I was desperate to get it out of the way before mum started bringing food to the table. Besides, I’d been thinking about it for some time even if I hadn’t realised it... the dreams?

·         The dreams had planted a thought.

·         The dreams had been most definite.

·         The dreams showed the way.

My small, undeveloped penis (my baby dick) was making itself known. The dream in the doctor’s office wasn’t a one off, similar dreams had plagued me for many months, and I just hadn’t grasped what they were trying to say.

Meanwhile, as if to make itself more noticeable, my tiny member had been observed and commented on in the gym changing room, had been cartooned in the boy’s toilets, had appeared graphically on my school books and then Cuddy and his mates made sure I knew everyone else knew what they knew - I was a baby pretending to be a teenager.

How such a bully knew before I did I’m not sure but one thing was for sure – I didn’t disagree with that assessment? The punches, trips and kicks followed me around, as if I was being told it would only stop when I admitted my failing – Yes, I was a baby pretending to be a teenager.

It was as if my willy, my micro-penis, was mocking me for wanting to be anything other than a sweet, loving little baby who needed to wear a nappy rather than a pair of underpants... they were for Big Boys.

Cuddy had whispered as much as he and his gang had stripped me and laughingly ripped off my briefs and replaced with a disposable.

“There, that’s much more appropriate,” he said through a sly but vicious grin.

“That’s what a baby should be wearing.”

He couldn’t help but adding to the amusement of his friends.

“My baby brother has more of a dick then you... and he’s three months old.”

Although the slaps to my belly that followed hurt, now I was wearing a nappy, they didn’t seem to carry the same intensity. I don’t know why but I think it was the group all taking shots of me with their phones that upset me the most. As it turned out, I was right to be worried about those photos.


My family looked on as I searched for the correct words. I wriggled in my soaked nappy thinking... this is what I deserve, this is who I am... this is... this is... I couldn’t finish my thoughts as, without any help from me, more warm golden pee flowed in to my nappy as if to confirm everything I was thinking.

“Errrr, erm... I’ve always been the baby of the family.” There were smiles of acknowledgement from everyone, “but sometimes I feel...” there was a pause before I could go on. “I want it to stay that way.”

I’d come this far but was now lost for words as to where to go with my whispered confession.

“Is that why you’re wearing the nappy?”

It was dad’s voice but surprisingly he didn’t sound angry like I’d expected.

I nodded shame-faced. I couldn’t look at anyone now and cast my eyes down to the saggy bulge I was sitting in - at that moment it was most unappealing.

After a moment’s silence Paul piped up in a soothing voice.

“Should we treat you differently?”

“Do you need us to treat you more as a grown-up... have we all been treating you as our little boy too much?” This was mum’s enquiry.

“Mum, Dad,” Helen had the room and looked across at Paul, “I don’t think it’s any of that. I think Mikey likes the way we treat him but wants... more of...erm, ummm, how it used to be.”

There was silence around the table as her words were digested.

I didn’t dare break the silence but thought it was up to me to say or do something.

“Mum, dad,” I looked to my brother and sister, “I like wearing nappies... they make me feel... loved... safe.”

“Ohh sweetheart,” mum soothed, “we love you loads...”

“Yes I know,” I interrupted, “I love you all as well but, well, a nappy adds... I can’t explain it but, erm, um, I just like the feeling it gives me.”

I now couldn’t look at any of my family I was wondering if they thought I was mad.

It was dad who spoke next and his response surprised me.

“Mikey, you’ll always be the baby of the family,” he grinned, “there’s no way out of ever being anything but the youngest. We are a family who likes, loves and supports each other all the time. Your mother and I only want the best for our kids.”

He looked around the table.

“But, and this is perhaps paramount... we want you all to be happy and... providing it hurts no one else, family or otherwise, you’ll always get our backing.”

He looked to mum for agreement.

“If wearing nappies in some way makes your life better... we’d rather you lived it openly and happily rather than being secretive and ashamed... so... if it’s what you want... what you need... then back to nappies it is for our little boy.”

I was shocked at how dad reacted and I daren’t look to see how the others had but then there was going to be a lot of discussion, chat and no doubt disagreement over the next few days.

How was this going to work?

Mum must have read my mind.

“Okay, before we get into the whys and wherefores... let’s eat.”


The meal started off in a subdued mood. I wasn’t sure what to say and I’m not sure anyone else did either. I was very aware of the tiniest movement I made there was a crinkle and squishy noise, which eventually brought the first ‘baby’ comment from Paul.

“Would you like me to cut that up for you?”

I could see he was gauging the reaction of the family.

I wasn’t struggling with the rather nice cheese and courgette pasta mum had made so I just grinned back.

There was definitely some uneasiness around the table but Paul just looked up and said “What?”

He then continued. “If we don’t know the parameters, how can we deal with what Mikey wants? So, did you find me asking that question funny or demeaning?”

He was addressing me so I just grinned sheepishly and said “Funny.”

“Good because that’s how it was intended. I love my little brother and I don’t want to subject him to any aggravation but I’m not sure how far we... sorry... he wants us to go.”

This was what was needed and over the meal we spent a lot of time discussing just how much of a baby I wanted to be. Mum and dad both said I’d still have to go to school as that was the law but, if I wanted to wear a nappy under my uniform... that was fine.

It felt really strange sitting at the table eating and chatting whilst squishing around in my soaked nappy but I suppose there was a lot to discuss. I think my sogginess had all but been forgotten as the various subjects were brought up...


“Wake up honey.”

I hadn’t realised I’d dropped off yet here was mum looking down and encouraging me to ‘wake up’.

“Oh sorry, must have dozed off.” I mumbled an apology. “What time is it?”

“It’s not late but...” she patted my padding, which I suddenly grasped I still had on and was wet... and I was still in bed.

Oh no! I thought. I’d just dreamed my situation. Nothing has been resolved, my family aren’t on-board with my desire and I’m wearing a particularly soggy nappy which, looking up at mum, she’s none too pleased about.

“Mum, erm...”

“Downstairs now.” She ordered.

“But I’m wet... I...”

“Downstairs now and be quick about it... and... just as you are.”

“But, but, but...”

“No buts... NOW.”


Reluctantly, and now a little scared, I dragged myself from my nice warm bed but in so doing, noticed the bed sheets were a little damp. The sogginess of my nappy made it drag down my pyjama bottoms, I didn’t want to be seen like this but mum’s tone told me not to disobey her instructions. Holding my saggy nappy up with one hand I ventured down stairs and into the kitchen where the family were gathered for the evening meal.

I stood at the kitchen door feeling very conspicuous... this was not the way I wanted to introduce me and nappies to the family.

To begin with I don’t think dad or Paul had any idea what was up. Helen of course was well abreast of my feelings and mum was simply confused by them. So, it was with extreme embarrassment I saw realisation dawning on the male members of the family.

“Are you wearing (sniff) a wet nappy,” Paul asked slightly incredulous.

Shamefully I nodded.

“Has that twat Cuddy made you do it again? I’ll swing for that bastard...”

“Now, now... let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Mum was warning Paul but looking at me. “There may well be a rational explanation for all... this.”

The expectation around the table was unmistakable, then I realised they were waiting for me to say something.

I wriggled uneasily in my squelchy nappy and thought I’d tell them about my day.

“Because the entire school is now aware of me being forced in to a nappy...”

“Thanks to that bastard...” Paul was silenced by a look from mum.

“My school ‘friends’,” I did the universal ‘air quotation marks’ as I spoke the word friends, “my locker and everywhere I go is decorated with baby stuff.”

I looked around to see what impression my words were making but I hadn’t got to the good bit yet; why I was wearing a wet nappy?

“Anyway, not only were their words reminding me of my small penis... erm... they’d left nappies and stuff around... and seemed hell-bent on getting me to wear them.”

It was awful having to confess the next bit.

“So, I brought all the stuff they’d left in my locker and around the place home and thought I’d do just that.”

“Ohh Mikey...” Mum seemed to have some sympathy.


Because in my dreams my parents had been at the doctor’s office and knew about the ‘micro penis thing and according to him was a sign of wanting to be a baby I thought they already knew about my worries. Of course they had no idea what I was talking about, or how effected I was by the dream and then by Cuddy and then by everyone else at school getting in on the act.

“The thing is... with them all telling me it’s what I should be wearing, (Baby Dick has become a school chant when I’m around) and, er, ummm, some dreams I’ve been having for quite some time...” Now it was confession time. “It didn’t seem a strange thing for them to expect because, well, I’d already considered I should.”

“What dreams, what..?” Dad wasn’t sure of any of this. However, I noticed Helen and she looked like she was approving of my continued account.

This wasn’t going as well as I’d dreamt so I decided to explain to the rest of the family exactly as I’d told Helen earlier... about feeling little.


Thankfully, the meal hadn’t been served and they listened to my ramblings with the occasional nod, cough and associated question. For the benefit of Paul I explained that although Cuddy’s attack had been awful, the disposable with Baby Dick written on it was the least of what worried me.

In fact, my small penis, which everyone around the table tried to assure me was only temporary, or might grow eventually, was the catalyst to all my doubts and fears and I was trying to understand (or make excuses) for the way I felt.

After I’d finished and looked around at my family I couldn’t read anyone’s opinion apart from Helen’s, her comforting hand was touching mine.

“So, you think you’re little so therefore you want to be treated as little, a toddler, a...” Mum ran out words as to exactly what she thought.

Dad tried. “So, I’m not sure what you expect from us all. Personally, if you want to wear a nappy that’s up to you but, and this is a big but,” Paul couldn’t help himself and sniggered at the thought of a big butt, “it’s going to be a lot of work on your part.”

I liked the way dad was speaking... well to begin with at least.

“Firstly; if you do decide to wear nappies, then they will be your responsibilities. I don’t see why your mum, or the rest of us, needs to be involved in changing or washing extra dirty linen.”

This wasn’t what I wanted, I didn’t want any responsibilities but when I thought about it, why should everyone else give in to my strange desires? I had expected mum to wash my dirty fabric nappies and hang them out to dry and keep a supply coming.  I had expected her to rinse through my plastic pants and...

“I can just about understand why you want what you want,” mum was saying, “but we want you to be the thirteen year old you are not a soggy little toddler.”

She said the last bit with a pleasant smile.

“You may be growing up slower than you feel you should but, you are growing up and I’d hate to think we held back your development for even one second.”

I don’t know why I’d just assumed everyone would be on-board with my nappy desire but this discussion was making me think; what exactly did I want out of this and was it something I could do myself?


As we sat, ate and discussed the subject the saggy disposable began to slightly irritate me. I wriggled around trying to get comfortable. Thankfully mum noticed and asked if I might be getting a nappy rash. She’d finished eating (I had a while back) and suggested we go up, check and get changed, she wanted to see how I coped if I was left to my own devices.

The disposable was very wet and had become a bit lumpy in parts so I was glad to get rid of it. Mum sat on the bed watching as I removed it then inspected the damp area to see if I had in fact got a rash – I had. She pointed out the red area and explained about why having urine next to my skin, without protection, could be a problem. She went off and returned with a warm wash cloth and tubes of something I wasn’t sure of.

Once I’d been cleansed to her satisfaction she went on about the various advantages to certain creams, lotions and powders and all the time I was just standing in front of her naked. I don’t think I’d spent so much time bare, certainly not recently or in front of mum, as she pointed out the areas I had to be meticulous about.

She then squirted some stuff from a tube onto her fingers and began to thoroughly rub it into the slightly inflamed areas. She’d also brought a tub of Vaseline and applied a thick coating of that all around explaining why this was beneficial if I was wearing a nappy.

I suddenly felt myself slipping back to when this was normal. Mum explaining things whilst I got my nappy changed. Despite her saying she wanted me to grow up naturally, at that moment I felt like the little boy I wanted to be – I hugged her tightly and started to cry.

“Ohh... poor baby,” she whispered soothingly in my ear as she patted my sticky naked bottom. “I know it’s been a hell of a time for you recently. I’m not sure if wearing a nappy will be useful but... if you think you need it... let’s get you in one.”

I think she thought my tears were because I was upset but in fact they were tears of joy because of the way I felt. Mum was giving me exactly what I wanted and even if it was only going to last this once, I was grateful to mum for her love. I hugged and kissed her cheek in thanks.


I am an affectionate little tyke but I think it took mum by surprise just how intense my feelings were. I watched excitedly as she fluffed out the disposable and checked she had it the right way round. By the time she’d finally tightened the tapes together on one of my ‘gifted’ disposables I was smiling like toddler with a new toy. The pyjamas I had been wearing were soaked and she was obviously looking around for further protection.

“Do you have any plastic panties sweetie?”

I explained about Helen taking stuff to be washed, so she told me to stay as I was and she’d be back in a moment.

She returned carrying the plastic pants.

“She hadn’t got around to washing these yet...” she pulled them up over my nappy, “but I think there’s less chance of leakage if for tonight at least we keep you safe and water tight.”

It felt strange. What I mean is that mum putting me in a disposable and being so attentive, it felt right and I was very comfortable. The plastic pants gripped tightly and glowed in the daylight as they strained to cover the thick material.

“Ohhh you’ll need some other plastic pants love... these are too tight they’ll cut off your circulation.”

Although they looked good I had to agree that they were pinching my legs and waist and I was glad when she eased them off.

“For tonight you’ll just have to make do with wearing a...”

She obviously had another idea and went to the bathroom and returned with a small hand towel. She folded it to make extra padding then slipped it in the disposable and re-taped me in.

The padding was huge and it was early yet so I’d have to wear only this massive bundle until bedtime. I suppose I couldn’t complain, having asked to be treated as a toddler to then be treated as a toddler.

“That should prevent too many leaks for tonight at least. I’ll get you some plastic panties for tomorrow night.”

“Thanks mum.” I whispered as I pecked her cheek.

Once I was in a clean and fresh nappy, and even though it was quite bulky, I did feel an awful lot more contented.

I wondered around the house as I was and got smiles from Big Bro and Sis and a shrug from dad, he still wasn’t too sure what to make of my sudden yearning. However, by the time bedtime did come around, so had dad. In fact, it was he who came up and chatted and tucked me in and no mention was made of my nappy being strange... it was just a normal family night.



Part 4

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

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

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

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

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

“A fuckin’ nappy.”

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

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

“Looks like he really needs a nappy,” I heard being whispered between some of the lads.

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


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

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

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

She was very matter of fact.

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

I nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

She changed tack.

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

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

I whined in my best whiney voice.

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

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

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


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


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

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

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

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


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

However, I was wearing them 24/7 and was getting used to the feeling they gave me. I’d taken on-board mum’s suggestions and process and found that it did leave me feeling very secure indeed. I was also getting used to wearing plastic pants over the nappy and thoroughly enjoyed that extra layer of protection.

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

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


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

“Well there’s a good little Baby Dick.” His voice was slimy because he thought he’d won a victory over me and I’d had no alternative than to do as he commanded. I didn’t put him right.

“Plastic pants as well... my baby brother wears these... you look pretty much alike.”

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

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

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


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

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

“You’re not wet.”

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

“I gather you’ve been using the boy’s toilets,” he snarled in my face. “That’s not a place for little baby dicks like you. It’s out of bounds from now on...” he paused. “I have eyes everywhere so don’t think for a moment I won’t know if you try to change your new rule.”

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

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

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

“You’d better start now.”


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

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

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

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

Surprisingly, after that first laboured spurt, the rest flowed with no trouble and I could feel the warming glow as he squeezed my nappy and felt its growing sogginess.

“That’s a good baby... now you’ll be checked more regularly and that nappy better be soaked every time or... I wouldn’t like to be you.”

The threat was uncompromising and I felt tears spring to my eyes.

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


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

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

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

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


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

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

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

I knew it was a rhetorical question but nodded anyway.

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

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


Part 5

Although Quentin had been the only person at school who offered any kind of support, real support that is, my best mate Kevin couldn’t quite get to grips with me wearing such a bulky item under my trousers.  Of course I hadn’t told him about me wanting to be babied, though he understood that Cuddy and his gang were out to humiliate me as much as they could, he was drifting away and spending more time with other friends.

Since that offer of support I’d nodded the occasional acknowledgement to Quentin but we’d not got close. He didn’t seem to be in any rush to support me further, although he did look down at my bulging groin, raised his eyebrows and pulled a slight grimace. I think he was feeling sorry for me yet I was desperate to say it wasn’t as bad as it looked. I thought I could trust Quentin with the news that all this ‘babying’ business and the forced nappy wearing was actually fun for me and that I was happy to use Cuddy and his gang of low-lives for my own benefit.

The official excuse for me wearing a nappy - I was currently experiencing a period of incontinence (the reason was never explained). However, because everyone had seen the posters of me wearing just a disposable, and saw the bulk under my trousers, everyone knew I was wearing nappies now. Most believed it was down to Cuddy, a few bought the excuse but no one suspected that I was wearing because I wanted to. I was feeling very superior at that moment... but I desperately wanted to share this feeling with someone I thought might appreciate the irony.

The school sissy was quite surprised when I sidled up and started making small talk with him.


Our strained conversation had only been going on for a few minutes when already we were hearing comments about “... the two sissies no doubt swapping recipes” or “deciding on which knickers to wear” or “dress” or... well, the chatter kept coming on what we would no doubt be talking about... and none of it either amusing or polite.

It was like water of a duck’s back for Quentin; he’d heard it all before and didn’t rise to any of the effeminate digs that were being bandied about.

“Aren’t you fed up with all this... and... these insults?” I felt sorry for him having had to put up with these constant put downs since he started at senior school.

“To them I am effeminate, I don’t do or like the things they do but I don’t care. Mummy and daddy are happy with me being me rather than trying to be something I’m not... and I like being me.” Then he added with a dismissive shrug. “So stuff ‘em.”

He saw my wry smile.

I didn’t think the fact he still called his parents mummy and daddy particularly helped his case but he wasn’t bothered.

“I’ll play with my dollies when I get home whether they like it or not.”

I wasn’t sure if he was kidding or not but I didn’t get a chance to pose the question as he changed the subject.

“You wear a nappy now. Cuddy is forcing you to be something you’re not and...”

He saw the look on my face change.

“or... I could be mistaken.”

He waited for me to say what was more obvious than I thought bubbling under the surface of our conversation.

“Promise you won’t say anything to... anyone?”

Quentin smiled.

“Okay... but I think I know what you’re going to say.”

I looked at him as if to say “I don’t think so” but he did.

“You like to wear nappies?”


It was both a question and a statement and I suddenly wondered if everyone knew and wasn’t actually kidding anybody.

“Ohhh God... how did you know... is it that obvious... does everyone else know?” I panicked.

Quentin got on his superior high horse.

“Don’t worry, these people are morons,” he pointed to a group from our class who were trying to come up with something funny to say about us two being together. “Not a single original thought in their stupid little heads... they wouldn’t catch a nuance if it smacked them in the face.”

Of course, even though his words carried with them a certain anger; his voice was soft and gentle.

Close up he was well-groomed, hair immaculate and his eyes sparkled with life. In class he was top in most subjects, always first with his hand up to answer a question and never cheated or copied. He was bullied for answers by bigger, more aggressive boys who tried to make him do their homework but he couldn’t be manipulated much to the frustration of the clods in class.

He returned to the subject in hand.

“I just didn’t see the anger one might expect when such embarrassing images have been exposed to everyone.”

I turned red because he seemed to read me so easily.

“Your secret’s safe with me but, don’t underestimate Cuddy, he may be a bully but he isn’t stupid...”

I nodded in agreement.

“He’ll have his eye on you...”

“How do you escape his claws?”

 I hoped he had some secret info on him he would share.

“Ohh, he’s tried many times, he’s even had me crying and running to teacher but then you came along and he seemed happier to torment Baby Dick than the school sissy. I still get shoved and mocked but a scream usually keeps them away because I go public when they start on me.”

He looked around the playground and pointed to a couple in our class who had been more than happy to taunt me about wearing a nappy.

“Most aren’t as tough as they pretend and Cuddy, who is very tough, can do without the aggro him picking on me can cause for his family... dad being a cop and all.”

He didn’t say this with any pride it was all just so matter of fact.

“Although I think it’s the screaming that scares them away.” He grinned and shrugged.

We chatted for the rest of the break, occasionally being harassed by some senior numbskull who thought he’d get in on the act. By the end of the break I was quite in awe of the school sissy and how he’d got himself sorted at such a young age.

He even let slip that he knew just how nice it was to wear a nappy and patted my padding as if to emphasise the point. However, he didn’t add anything further and as the school bell had rung, it was back to class.


Over the next few days nothing much changed. At home I was left to my own devices so I had to do everything concerned with my nappied life... no offers of help at all. Yet, at school, Cuddy and his mates kept up the daily humiliation of checking and making sure I was wandering around school in a pee-filled nappy. It was strange to see the absolute glee on their faces as they thought my shame was all because of them. I made the correct appeals to be left in peace and begging them to stop my ritual degradation but they seemed to get a kick out of probing down my pants, slipping past the plastic protection and groping the squishy fabric underneath.

The tirade of disgust and comments of me being “Nothing but a fucking baby”, “a no dick nonce”, “a pissy little cunt”... the name calling was all part of their humiliation.  It made me feel small and insignificant, as if I had no control over what happened and yet... and yet... I was getting a thrill from it all.


Quentin and I had become beleaguered friends and spent the occasional break in each other’s company. Normally he could be found playing and talking with groups of girls and I wasn’t invited into that set up but, when he was alone I sought him out... I liked his friendship. It also had a bonus effect when our ‘relationship’ (him being my sissy girlfriend and all) was also thrown back in my face by the gang as they pursued further ways to humiliate me. I was now branded as a ‘sissy baby’ a ‘no dick sissy baby’ and various versions on the same theme that were delivered with an elbow or trip by some Cuddy ‘wannabe’.

I never mentioned any of this to my family. They thought I was being very daring in dealing with wearing a nappy to school but as there had been no complaints or letters home from any of the staff I was left alone nothing was said.

I stuck to my duties of keeping my room and bedding clean. I’d thoroughly wash whatever I’d wet and pegged out, then the freshly laundered items would be collected nicely dry when I returned home from school.

I’d become adept at adding soaker pads and pinning the fabric tightly. Once I added plastic pants I thought the silky bulge where once I had nothing to show, now showed I had something.

The bulky bump was what occupied my mind almost 24/7... it was a complete experience. I loved wearing it, I loved touching it, it felt so good hugging my little genitals and though some mocked, I didn’t care. Often I couldn’t even feel my genitals but that obvious, large, smooth bump was still very gratifying. This huge lump had become my genitals.

That was until one day I was dragged into the boy’s toilet by Archie and the entire gang was there.

“Well Baby Dick,” Cuddy’s voice had a strange tone to it. “It appears that our wetting little baby seems happy to run around in his soaked nappy all day.”

He looked happy about the situation and what he’d achieved but then changed tack.

“So, it’s time he took the next step.”

I wasn’t too sure what the next step was and he allowed me a minute for it to sink in just exactly what it was he wanted me to do.

I stood there dumb (and shaking because I knew something was about to take place that I wasn’t going to like) but didn’t move.

“Time our little Baby Dick took a dump in his nappy... don’t you think?”

A supportive cheer went up from his gang.


I screamed “NO”. This wasn’t something I’d ever planned on doing. The idea of a messy nappy wasn’t on my radar and I’d avoided even doing it by accident by making sure I was in a regular routine and did it the moment I got up. However, hands were dragging down my trousers and plastic pants revealing my thick soaked fabric nappy. I’m sure to the half dozen onlookers I appeared nothing more than a baby about to be changed but Cuddy insisted.

“Come on Baby Dick; fill your nappy like the little sissy I’ve heard you’ve become.”

I shook my head and pleaded with him not to make me. Tears were rolling down my face but they were having no effect on the assembled gang.

“Come on, force one out you big girl”, “...mess that nappy, you know you want to”. There were more comments and insults that I didn’t get as I cried to be let go.

Cuddy was in his element.

“There, there little one,” he soothed, “just squat down, like the little kiddie you are and crap your nappy... I’m sure you’ve done it many times... so come on... just for us.”

“I can’t,” I screamed through tearstained eyes, “I’ve been... already been... (hic) I can’t...”

Fingers were pressing into my belly and squishing the double soaked nappy.

The hubbub died down when Cuddy asked if I was sure I couldn’t manage it.

“Nnnnoooo,” I stammered. “I’ve already been today.”

“Okay, fair enough, if you can’t you can’t.” He seemed at ease with my explanation.

“Perhaps another time?” He looked questioningly at me.


I stood there shaking wearing just a sopping wet nappy and with my trousers and plastic pants bunched around my feet. I was hoping the terror would end but I should have known better.

“The little baby needs to poo and pee-pee in his nappy.” He was using baby talk now and I could feel the threat level rise. “So, I’ll give him a helping hand.”

He produced a plastic bag and unfurled a shitty disposable.

“A present from my baby cousin... a freshly messed in nappy, which I believe has your name on it.”

I was shocked and drew back as he brought the stinking thing nearer.

“Looks like our little baby is going to be wearing shit and piss in his nappy after all.”

A cheer went up from the guys looking on as Cuddy gave them the order to hold me down. He dragged my nappy around my knees and then lay out the messy one from his cousin.

“Lift up his arse.”

Someone grabbed my tiny genitals and hoisted my bum off the floor.

“God look at that tiny thing... I could hardly get hold of it...” I heard someone say.

He quickly slipped the pungent thing under me, all the time I was crying and begging him to stop. I felt my moist bum make contact with the stinking yellowy brown mass and Cuddy wasted no time in pulling it up between my legs and taping it into place.

He seemed to have no problem at all dealing with the smell or the revolting spectacle that he was inflicting on me.

Most of the onlookers were laughing but I noticed one or two found the entire process gross.

However, Cuddy pulled my nappy over the disposable, yanked up my plastic pants and smoothed it all out. I felt unclean and abused. I could feel the sticky mess sliding around my bum and ooze between my legs. He pulled up my trousers and dragged me to my feet.

“There you are, not difficult at all... just what you’d expect, a baby in a shitty nappy.”

I was horrified. This wasn’t part of my plan and in fact, a dirty nappy was never part of my plan.

Cuddy had ruined everything and I hated him for it.

“I’ll tell the Head just what you’ve done.” I threatened.

He smiled that evil smile again, he wasn’t fazed by any threat I could make.

“You’re a stinky little baby Smith, no one is going to believe you because everyone knows how much you love being a baby and wearing a nappy. Everyone knows that you and your sissy mate have been planning this for some time...”

I tried to deny it but he just smiled. “Everyone here has heard what you and your ‘sissy girlfriend’ had in mind and that you were planning on blaming me.”

He shrugged.

“Some teachers are already aware of your plan... so I doubt if anyone is going to take your complaint very seriously.”  

I didn’t know if any of this was true but people will have seen Quentin and me huddled together so no doubt all manner of nasty rumours were circulating.

“However, I do have a few words I want you to use when anyone asks about your ‘accident’. Here’s what you say.... in your best babyish voice ‘Please sir, I done a poo and a pee-pee in my nappy.’ Just so no one is in any doubt about you being a little baby... a shitty little baby at that.”

“I won’t say that, I’ll, I’ll...” My threat was lost as I saw the entire group begin to pack up to leave.

“On a different subject altogether.” Cuddy was in my face. “How’s that sister of yours... I bet she looks pretty hot in a nappy like her baby brother...?”

“You leave Helen alone... you, you...”

“I’ll be waiting on a report back on what words you used when asked about your shit-filled nappy. If it’s not as I’ve said, I’ll be paying a visit to... Helen is it?... and checking for myself.”

This was a threat I couldn’t ignore. I couldn’t let my nappy wearing involve Helen, or any of the family in Cuddy’s spiteful little game. He knew he’d won and I’d do just as he demanded. I shuffled out of the boy’s toilet feeling the clammy, grainy residue invading into, across and against my body. I threw up as I made the playground.


“Smith stinks sir.”

It was Harrison who was bringing it to Mr Henderson’s attention. Harrison was a Cuddy wannabe and no doubt had been put up to this.

It was the beginning of a double maths period, a subject I was useless at so Mr Henderson was no great fan of mine. He already thought I was a waste of space and always looked disgusted when he noticed me wearing padding.

“Shit yourself have you Smith?” He brought laughter to the rest of the class but I just shrunk into my seat unable to say anything I was just too distraught.

“Yes he has.” Harrison and a couple of others agreed.

“What?” Henderson had meant it as a bad joke but now the smell was getting to other people and they were moving away from my vicinity.

“Oh, for crying out loud Smith... what’s happened?”

This was the question I knew Cuddy had been hoping for and I also knew he had enough people who’d grass me up if I didn’t say the line.

“I gone and done a poo and pee-pee in my nappy... sorry sir.”

Mr Henderson looked at me in amazement whilst the rest of the class bust into fits of laughter.

“You fuckin’ big baby Smith” “Shitty cunt” “Christ what a stink” “You’ll need a cartload of nappies...”

Others simply held their noses, whilst other revelled in my baby voice.

“Smith’s a fuckin’ baby, Smith’s a fuckin’ baby...” “Someone get him a dummy and a bottle” “Good God no, we don’t want him to shit anymore”

Everyone had some comment and Mr Henderson was at a loss as to what to do.

“Farron,” The class sissy looked my way but there was no judgement on his face. “Can you escort Mr Smith to the Head’s office?” He couldn’t help himself. “We don’t want our little stinker getting lost now do we?”

Quentin was up and by my side almost immediately. The vile comments carried on, this time including those directed his way. Two sissy babies together was the general opinion, no doubt we’d be changing each other’s nappies as soon as we got out the door. Typical of Quentin he was more concerned about me than bothering to respond to a pack of jokers.

Henderson called order and reluctantly, as we exited the school room, the name calling became silenced.

“Can I open a window sir?” It was Harrison building his part, much to the appreciation of most of the class.

“Mmmm, I think that might be a good idea.” The teacher shrugged as if he didn’t quite know what to make of what had just taken place.

“Now, after that little break,” Mr Henderson got back to work. “As you can see... when x is the coefficient...”


Part 6

“I’m really sorry about all this,” I apologised to Quentin.

“S’OK, they need to learn maths more than I do.” He hardly broke a smile but I knew this was his humour.

“No, I mean... the smell... the embarrassment... being seen with me...”

“Is this more of Cuddy’s doing?”

I wasn’t sure whether to tell him or not, it was all so disgusting. Perhaps it would be better people thinking I’d messed my own pants than admitting what actually happened. Besides, I had to protect Helen from the terror of Cuddy.

He looked at me and saw me struggling.

“More threats no doubt... he really is a piece of nasty wrapped in unpleasantness... or simply a cruel twat.”

I burst out laughing. Yes, despite my appalling situation Quentin had made me forget for a moment my problems and see Cuddy for what he was.

“Anyway, if I were you...” he looked at me straight in the eye, “I’d tell the Head exactly what has been going on... then tell your parents... keeping stuff to yourself will eventually make things worse...”

I interrupted him. “But he’s threatened Helen.”

“All the more reason to let people know what’s going on.”

“I don’t know. People might get to know about my liking for nappies and...”

“Look, and don’t take this the wrong way, but that boat has sailed. People know. Most don’t care and those that do... aren’t important.”

I knew Quentin was a clever lad but I never thought of him as being so mature. I was listening but really quite in awe of him. To be honest, I’d rather seen him as the rest of the school did, a brainbox yes, but really just a big timid sissy who’d rather play with girls.

“...the more you take on yourself the less control you have.”

I looked at him as if I’d never really known him.

“He’s relying on you to stay quiet so he and his mates can do and say what they like...”

“But I’ve complained about him before and they say,” I nodded towards the Heads office, “they can’t do anything without proof... and I just haven’t had any witnesses.”

“Yes,” he caught a whiff of the shitty nappy, “Ye gods.” He composed himself. “It doesn’t matter just tell everyone who will listen what’s going on. You’re still only a kid and this amounts to physical, emotional and mental abuse so stop being an idiot... and damn well fight back.”

I was stunned at the passion in his voice. He was having a go at me for being the sissy in this relationship. I would have cowered down into my nappy if I couldn’t still feel all the crap clinging to my bits.

The wait for the Head was taking ages so I went into great detail about what had happened. After a few “You’ve got to be joking”, “Yuks” and “Blluuurrrgggs” I finished the entire tale.

“What a cunt.”

Again, a word I never thought I’d hear from Quentin but one he seemed to think summed up Cuddy.

(For Quentin the c-word he knew was the worst thing you could call someone although he didn’t know why or what it really meant. All he knew was that sometimes he’d heard the word shouted by older boys and grown-ups and it seemed a nasty thing to say. He thought it MUST apply to Cuddy and his gang.)

“There’s no way you can keep this a secret.” He pointed to the top of the disposable that was peaking above my nappy “Besides, this...”

I could see he was thinking.

“Erm, did you say this was from his baby cousin? Quentin looked a little perplexed.

“Yes he took great delight saying it was fresh from him this morning.”

“But look, this is far too big for a baby... it’s even too big for you...”

I didn’t quite see what he was getting at but he left some time for me to put two and two together.

“So, you’re saying that this disposable has nothing to do with a baby... you think he bought them especially for me?”

“Maybe, but, and this is what I’m putting out there, what if it’s one of his own. What if he’s needs them himself.... it would explain an awful lot.”

He was smiling now.

“What if... big hard Cuddy is nothing more than a big bed-wetter himself?”

We both burst out laughing as I was called into the Head’s study and Quentin joyfully returned to his maths lesson.


“Think this is funny do you Smith?”

The headmaster didn’t look happy with what was in front of him.

“Messing you pants and talking like a baby...”

“No sir.”

My smile had rapidly disappeared once the stern features of Mr Blacklock confronted me.

“For crying out loud Smith... you stink... what were you thinking?”

“Sorry sir... but it wasn’t my fault.”

“Really, so how come Mr Henderson said you’ve already admitted to doing it?”

I had no idea how the two had managed to speak in the time I’d been waiting outside his office, although I did know there were two entrances to it.

“I was under extreme duress.”

This was one of the lines that Quentin had told me to use and I think it took the Head by surprise.

“Are you having problems at home?”

“No sir... I’m having problems with bullying in school.”

I wasn’t as confident as Quentin when it came to speaking to adults, and especially figures of supreme authority, but I took my friend’s words to ‘Man Up’ to heart and tried my best. I think I took Mr Blacklock by surprise.

I could see him climb down from his high horse a little because he’d heard my complaints before.

“Is this about Cudthorpe in Year 10?”

“Yes, he continues a reign of terror against me... and possibly others... and yet nothing is done...”

“What has this to do with you messing your trousers?” He spoke sternly trying to knock me off my guard... or so I thought.

“Because sir, he stripped me and put me in a messy nappy that he’d brought with him.”

“I see.” I could see the Head thinking seriously about what I’d just said. “You’re telling me that Cudthorpe brought a particularly offensively smelling nappy to school with the sole intent of making you wear it?”

“Erm... er... um... yes I...”

“Do you realise how unbelievable that statement is... how preposterous...? You expect me to think that on the off chance he met up with you he’d be so organised as to have such an item with him?”

He was completely sceptical about anything I said and as he continued with his line of reasoning I saw how thin my argument was.

“This seems a very farfetched story Smith and I have to say I’m not keen on people lying about things in an attempt to get others into trouble.”

“But SIR, that’s unfair. I have complained about Cuddy before and the things he says and does to me but, well, I never have a witness but that isn’t to say it doesn’t happen.”

“Indeed not Smith but do you know he and several of his friends have complained about you?”

Cuddy had mentioned that so it looks like he’d thought ahead.

“I know you and he have been at loggerheads for quite some time but this,” he spread his hands to take in my bulging and smelly padding, “is just too much. I’ll call you parents now and hope they can do something.”


I was excused and made to sit in the hallway still wearing Cuddy’s messy nappy. I hadn’t been offered the chance to change, or return to class and retrieve my bag which had fresh nappies, I’d been told by a very annoyed Headmaster to “WAIT”.

As I sat pondering what would happen next I knew he was on the phone to my parents. They had already said that should they hear anything from school about nappies they wouldn’t let me wear them anymore.

Meanwhile the Head had sent for Cuddy and it was with some surprise that I saw my nemesis walking up the hallway.

“Christ Smith you stink, what have you done in your pants?”

Although I was intimidated I needed to say something.

“You know perfectly well... you... you... you did this to me.”

“Smith, I don’t know what goes on in that head of yours but this constant blaming others for your babyish ways is not fair.”

Not fair? NOT FAIR? I could have screamed as he sat down beside me and gave me that sly smile.

“I hope your mummy will be here soon to take her baby away and change his stinky, smelly ...”

He was whispering the words when the door opened and we were both beckoned back into the Heads office.


“Yes sir... what can I do for you?”

He was even slimy with the Head yet I already knew I had no chance.

Mr Blacklock explained the charges against him and looked at times surprised, amused and hurt – god he should be on stage. He was appalled at the idea that anyone would bring in a dirty nappy, let alone put it on someone else.

“Smith alleges that it’s from your baby cousin.”

“Well, that’s a lie... I don’t have a baby cousin.” He reasoned with the Head.

I butted in.

“His baby brother, his baby brother, he’s always comparing me to his baby brother...”

I was out of control and very angry.

“But sir, this is yet another lie. I don’t have a baby brother. I think Smith should get his facts right before he spreads more malicious gossip and unfounded accusations...”

The Head looked at me waiting for a response.

“Well Smith?”

The innocent look on Cuddy’s face was unbelievable.

“Can I go now sir? Smith’s smelly nappy is quite overpowering...”

I could see he was going to add something vindictive but thought better of it as the Head told him to return to his lessons.

“Well Smith... it’s your word against his and I have to say... it doesn’t look good on your part. Anyway, your mother will be here soon...” he said distractedly as he returned to his desk and started sorting through some papers.

“Can I get my school bag sir it has a change in...?”

“You came prepared?” He enquired incredulously.

He looked at me quite dismissively at that moment.

“Wait outside for your mother...”

I could hear him say “You’re a disgrace” under his breath.


Cuddy had made me look a liar and a not very good liar at that. He’d played the Head easily, although how much he believed him, compared to how much he disliked me, I wasn’t sure. However, I was sitting in a stinking and very uncomfortable disposable waiting for mum... I was sure she wouldn’t be too pleased about the state I was in.

There was something else grinding away at the back of my mind and it was something Quentin had said. The disposables I’d been put in weren’t baby sized they were for someone a lot bigger, even bigger than me. Despite my discomfort I giggled at the idea it might be Cuddy’s own and then an awful thought crossed my mind – had I been wearing Cuddy’s own poop all this time.

The idea made me want to throw up and I sat stock still desperately wanting not to spread the muck around further. Not only that but I felt totally devastated, humiliated and started to cry, it was then mum arrived.


I sat crying like the little kid I felt I was. I’d been totally destroyed by Cuddy, and I was quite possibly sat in his poop. I think mum could smell the problem well before she got to me but it was she who was disgusted.

“Haven’t they let you change?”

I simply hugged her and let out a cry that might just have woken a few of the school’s ancient spirits.

At this Mr Blacklock opened his office door to greet mum.

“Ahh Mrs Smith I...”

Mum didn’t give him chance to speak she was on him in seconds demanding to know why I hadn’t been allowed to change.

He looked a little surprised at this verbal assault but invited her into his inner-sanctum but left me snivelling out in the hallway.

I could hear the Head trying to be reasonable but mum was not easily placated. However, the volume decreased and a more rational discussion took place. I heard the name Cudthorpe crop up time and time again. I also heard the terms protection, nappies, disposables, faeces, baby and psychiatrist being mentioned on a number of occasions.

I was shivering in fear, guilt and shame as mum emerged, slightly downbeat but determined to sort her quaking messy boy out.

“Come on Michael... let’s get you out of here.”

She wasn’t angry but I could tell that the conversation hadn’t gone well for me.


I was tearful and fearful the short drive home. I just didn’t know what to say to mum or what had gone on between the headmaster and her... but I’d never felt more uncomfortable sitting in a messy nappy.

We went up to the bathroom and she stripped me naked taking great care to not let the mess spread any further.

I tried to tell her it wasn’t my fault, I hadn’t pooped in my nappy but she just gently shushed me and told me not to worry. She saw for herself that there was a disposable held within the confines of my fabric padded nappy so was able to see I wasn’t lying... but nothing was said.

After an initial clean-up she aimed me towards the shower and told me to give myself a thorough scrubbing. I poured a load of shampoo on my head and lathered it up and let the torrent of bubbles cascade down my boyish frame; rubbing and scouring as the foam got to each part of my body.

Of course I scrubbed hard at my groin and bum, the area that had so recently been possibly contaminated by Cuddy poo. My tiny cock and balls made my emotions sink as I rubbed and rubbed in an effort to get them permanently clean. Everything seemed to shrink to nothing and my eyes filled with tears again.

Mum came in at that moment; it appeared she only ever saw me crying these days.

“I’ll never be clean, I’ll never...” She stopped me from scrubbing myself raw, then wrapped me in a towel and guided me to my room.



Part 7

Mum sat on the bed and cuddled me tightly. She rocked gently in an effort to help me calm down but felt so drained I could only whimper and not appreciate what she was doing for me.

She slowly dried me and I shouldn’t have been happier except... I knew that something drastic had to change... and I also knew it would probably have to be me. Meanwhile, mum could see I’d been traumatised by the events of the day and to her credit had laid out a fresh nappy for me to wear.

She made sure I was clean and dry before coating me in Vaseline and powder, then, adding a thick soaker pad, pulled up and pinned the fresh cloth nappy in place. At last I was clean and the soft white material felt wonderful as it slipped against my skin and gripped my waist. The friendly bulk made me bury my head in mum’s bosom in gratitude for what she’d just done. Despite everything, she knew what I needed at that moment.

She pulled up a pair of thick vinyl pants and tucked everything away but she could see that I was scared and uncertain.

“I think you should nap now... you’ve had a hell of a day so far and I think a rest is what’s needed.”

She pulled back my sheets and I crawled in.

Sleepily I asked if she believed me, I wasn’t a liar and I didn’t mess myself...

She replied she’d always believe her sweet little baby, and that I shouldn’t worry, everything would be alright.

Her smile made me trust her so turned onto my side and believe I was asleep before she’d even left the room.


Although it was only mid-afternoon I slept heavily but was plagued by unsettling dreams.

Cuddy loomed large in all of them and I’d become a pet at his beck and call and made to perform the most appalling actions. There was nothing sexual, it was just constant humiliation where he’d demand I perform like a dog, or pig, or some wild animal. Parade around in a saggy, abused nappy for the amusement of his friends and at other times to crawl everywhere, through mud and worse.

I couldn’t say ‘no’ or fight back.

Throughout all this I was made to wear his messy nappy and my mess was constantly being added to it. The size of the nappy and plastic pants was huge as the build-up increased.

I was struggling with the sheer volume and crying for it all to stop when eventually, the silky, smooth plastic balloon burst spraying the contents everywhere. It was then I woke up to find my own carefully applied protection had become loose – the result of which was now covering both me and the bed in a catastrophic sludge.

I’d only been asleep for less than an hour but it looked like I’d deliberately smeared it over the bedding and myself – the smell was appalling. How I’d managed to get to such a state I didn’t know but all my previous denials about never messing myself had all but disappeared.  

I was crying for a good ten minutes, not knowing what to do or say, when Helen came into my room and stood aghast at the scene of devastation before her. She immediately called mum and soon I had the entire family looking horror-struck.

“What the hell?”

After what happened at school, and now this at home, I realised that my version of events was on very stony ground.

“I hhhhad a ba bad dreammm.” I stammered.

Somehow the protection had wriggled down to my knees so when my bowel did erupt there was very little to prevent it from spurting its liquid content everywhere. Also, it looked like I’d spent time rolling around in it.

Dad rushed to open the windows, whilst Helen led me to the bathroom. Mum was stripping the bed and I saw a look of disgusted determination occupy my brother’s face.


I was desperate for a hug but of course was in no condition to expect anyone to cuddle me. Helen’s guiding hand helped strip off the little I was still wearing and supervised as I showered for the second time in just a couple of hours.

“It was an accident, it was an accident...” was all I could gabble in my defence.

I didn’t know it at the time but mum and dad had been discussing what had happened at school and that Mr Blacklock had given mum an ultimatum about my nappy wearing. The upshot was dad was determined I should discontinue with wearing nappies, whilst mum thought it probably the worst time for such action. To her, this current mess was proof that I needed them more than ever to cope with whatever was going on.

The Head had pointed out to mum that for what I claimed to have happened would rely on too many coincidences and that my story hadn’t been consistent, citing my accusations of both his baby cousin and baby brother of supplying the contents of the nappy, neither of which Cuddy had. Although Mr Blacklock knew Cudworth was a bad apple, he had several people supporting his alibi, whilst I had no one. He did wonder why a tenth grader would chance walking around school with a messy disposable in his school bag on the off chance of making me wear it?

It just didn’t seem feasible.

Meanwhile, back at home and checking out the mess in my bedroom, dad I think wasn’t convinced I hadn’t done it on purpose. If not on purpose, then being a little lax at getting to the toilet... perhaps to prove my need to be babied.

Mum won the argument because dad hadn’t been in the conversation with the Head and only third party to what actually had been going on but I could see in dad’s eyes he wasn’t happy. Meanwhile, she had a fresh clean nappy, with a huge amount of padding ready when I returned from the shower.

“Don’t worry sweetheart,” Mum said as she coated me in lotion, “we all know you’ve been through hell and I’m not sure the Headmaster is on top of the situation at school.” She paused as she dragged the thick padding between my legs and pinned it into place.  “So, for the moment, I’m keeping you at home.”

She’d also found, from I don’t know where, a particularly thick pair of rubber pants to cover the entire thing.

“Better safe than sorry,” she smiled. “An atomic blast wouldn’t get through this protection.”

She stroked the large, smooth, bulky object gripping my groin.

I knew she was trying to cheer me up but I was still unhappy about what had happened. My grin wasn’t sincere and I think she picked up on it.

“Really Mikey, you mustn’t worry... we’ll get all this sorted.”

What I didn’t know at the time was the Head had said that I wouldn’t be allowed back in class until I’d had a school psychiatrist report giving me a clean bill of health.


Tea was a sombre meal. I kept muttering ‘sorry’ and ‘it wasn’t my fault’ but dad said let’s just eat and we’ll sort it all out later. I’m not sure anyone knew what to say but I did detect an anger building in Paul’s eyes as he gazed at my huge silky padding and sad face.

After just picking at the food, I wasn’t in much of a mood to eat, I went to my room to finish my homework and because I felt too guilty under dad’s disapproving gaze. Surprisingly, Paul came in and asked me to tell him exactly what had been happening since that first disposable attack. When I tried to wriggle from any explanation he threatened to tickle me until I complied.

I don’t think Paul and I had ever had such an intense conversation, it was quite liberating for me to get so much I’d been holding in, out there.

As I’ve said, as a family we’ve always been able to tell each other everything and I have to admit I hated keeping what was happening at school a secret, so I decided to tell him everything... and that included how I was quite enjoying being treated as little kid by Cuddy because I wasn’t receiving that at home.

However, I hadn’t liked the nasty direction Cuddy had taken things.


Paul was petting me; his low voice, reassurance, soft but meaningful hugs and touches all made me confess everything. He patted and admired my thick padding and glossy rubber pants saying how much they made me look like a happy toddler. I knew he was just saying it to curry favour but I liked hearing the words and it never felt weird or devious - don’t forget, I loved my brother and he loved me.

As I opened up I got more and more things off my chest.

I told him about Cuddy’s gang but that it was Archie and he who were the main bullies; the others seemed to need strong leaders but on their own were pretty much ineffectual. However, that hadn’t stopped any of them from making the most of every opportunity to embarrass me.

I confessed that them making me pee myself in the boy’s toilet was gross but I’d quite liked the feeling of a warm wet nappy.

I told him how the school sissy was the only true friend who seemed to care what was happening to me. He was also the only one I could tell the truth to and regarded him as a real confidant. The fact that he was brighter than I was, had sharper instincts and said he knew how nice it was to wear a nappy, was just part of Quentin’s appeal.

I even told Paul about Quentin’s theory that the disposables Cuddy used were for someone bigger than a baby and even bigger than me and he wondered if my tormentor had a secret of his own.

Clever and astute Quentin thought it would explain everything about the bully.


A smile appeared on Paul’s face, I think he knew before I did how much I admired Quentin.

“You should invite him over for a meal or to do homework together...”

“He lives at the other side of town.”

I answered innocently not knowing what my brother was getting at.

“Well I’m sure we’d all like to meet him, the boy who doesn’t mind you wearing a nappy and who...”

“Hold on, hold on.” I suddenly grasped where this was heading. “He’s just a friend.”

“Makes no difference what he is... if he’s the one person who supports my kid brother then he’s OK by me... and I think the rest of us.”

I’d gone bright red by then and changed the conversation back to Cuddy.

Up until I mentioned Cuddy’s threat against Helen Paul seemed pretty understanding but there was a dramatic mood change when I told him of the bully’s comment.

“OK, I think our ‘friend’ has just crossed one line too many...”

He didn’t expand on it although I could tell there was something going on in his head but, as he was moulding my padded bottom and stroking my hair as I confessed all, I snuggled down happy to have things as they were.

My brother was looking after his baby brother... and I loved it.


Mum was as good as her word and the following day I didn’t have to go to school, whilst my brother and sister did. She even changed my wet nappy in the morning before she had to go to work and told me that although she had to go, she’d be home early afternoon, so not to go out. Wearing only a fresh clean nappy and t-shirt I wasn’t planning on going anywhere and it was strange to have the house to myself, even for a short time.

I loved being able to wander around dressed as I was. I know I did it anyway but on my own, I was able to act out a bit. I added booster pads to my nappy to make it bigger; the emphasised waddle was incredible entertaining.  I spoke to myself in baby talk. I hugged my teddy bear and took it everywhere I went. I set out all my nappies, plastic and rubber pants and matched them with what I thought were the most childish clothes I possessed. I didn’t have much but it was fun thinking how I’d adapt stuff to be onesies, footed sleepers or just something I thought was infantile. My imagination was having a great time, even when I played with my toys whilst sitting an extremely wet nappy.

I made a fort out of the settee cushions, wrapped myself in fleecy blankets and pretended mum was still swaddling me and sucked on the dummy I’d been left by my ‘amusing’ school chums. I adapted a sports water bottle, filled it with milk and nursed on that. In the background the cartoon channel was on TV as I slipped into nap time and if it wasn’t for mum waking me up when she came home, I might have slept right through till tea time.


Mum and dad may have decided between them that I was to do all the baby stuff myself but I got the impression mum really liked it as I sleepily woke up from my nap all cosy, wet and in her words, “so damn cute”.

She let me choose which vinyl pants I wanted to wear next and then set about changing me again, with a caution not to let dad know what she’d done. Of course she saw all my ‘baby’ clothes laid out and grabbed what she thought were appropriate and slipped me in them. I was now dressed as she wanted to see me and although I had a pair of very loose fitting shorts covering my protection; they hid very little.

The padding between my legs was strangely comforting. It was like I was being gently held by some cushiony giant. I was strangely dangling between being a big toddler or a special needs teenager but I left teddy in the bedroom and went downstairs to help her get the evening meal ready.

This was a completely different experience. At school I was always on edge or getting abused in one way or another but here, helping mum, wearing baby clothes... I was in heaven. I’m not sure if she was aware of it but she slipped into speaking to me in a way she’d normally talk to a toddler, she praised every little task I completed. In return I spent a lot of time hugging her legs like I used to when a toddler. It was an incredibly loving scene.

This was what I wanted. This was what I’d hoped for. This was happening but for how long?

I knew dad would have problems with this because the school was having problems with it but, at that moment, I didn’t care. With the thick, soft nappy surrounding me in fleecy comfort I loved my mummy and she loved her baby son.


Part 8

Mum had been quite incensed that Mr Blacklock had demanded that I see a school psychiatrist and, after a discussion with dad, had decided they would make a complaint to the local education authority about the school’s lack of control over bullying.

Both my parents turned up at the Head’s office and told him of their plans. He dismissed them like he’d dismissed me and I think that was a mistake. Whilst he thought their ‘lackadaisical’ parenting was responsible for my wearing nappies to school, they pointed out it was fear on my part that made me do so. The Head was adamant there was no evidence and seemed to forget that the posters of me in a disposable, which had so recently been displayed around the school, should have been enough proof.

He continued with the line there was no actual support to link Cudthorpe with it and, even with his bad reputation, suspicion wasn’t enough. Dad said it would have been at any other school and now he’d spoken to the Head himself, he realised “...what my son has to endure whilst under the jurisdiction of such an ineffectual Principal.”

This didn’t go down well with the Head but at least mum and dad were on the same supportive page so when he got home (I’d enjoyed a day wearing a nappy and pottering around the house) dad apologised for even doubting me for a second. Although I’d confessed all to my brother I hadn’t done the same to my parents so, for the moment at least, I stayed schtum.


Cudthorpe didn’t know I had an older brother because Paul didn’t go to the same school; he’d passed an entrance exam and went to an Academy outside our catchment area. Cuddy had probably seen Helen and me arrive on the same bus, although she then went to the girl’s school opposite the one I went to.

At my brother’s school Friday afternoon is given over to sport. Paul is a keen sportsman playing everything from rugby and football to swimming and wrestling. There are few sports events that don’t have my brother as part of the team and he excels in them all. I’m not sporty at all although I have attended a couple of finals when he’s been involved. When he walks around the house wearing just his rugby or football kit he looks so healthy and strong compared to his weakling little brother... me. Having said that, all I ever think about is my sweet brother who wouldn’t say boo to a goose and always treats me with love and affection.

I wasn’t there but I am reliably informed by those who were that my brother, who must have given up his Friday afternoon of sport to get to the school for the last lesson, confronted my bully. Those who witnessed it said an unknown lad challenged Cuddy who took a swipe at him. Apparently his mates cheered him on until Paul whacked him twice in quick succession that sent him sprawling. Archie, ever the lieutenant, waded in only to find an elbow in his guts and a stomp on his right arm so it was useless.

With Cuddy not knowing who this person was and wondering why he was being accosted lost it a little and started swearing and bragging about what would happen to his assailant when he recovered.

Meanwhile, that very assailant told him that the thing about bullies was, there was always a bigger bully waiting in the wings... and he wasn’t easy to intimidate.


There were more threats and counter threats but with Cuddy surprised and immobile by his shock attacker, and his gang jeering but doing little else, realised that a real beating might not be too far away. It was the first time since being at our school that he’d been afraid and taken to task for the things he’d done.

Having said that, he was no pussy and confident he could get the better of his assailant. He jumped up and delivered a forceful kick aimed at Paul’s genitals, which was skilfully blocked. However, my brother countered with a devastating punch to the throat that sent Cuddy down gasping for air.

Oddly enough, where this fracas took place was out of sight from any adults. It was home time so the road and spare ground just contained loads of kids dispersing to the surrounding suburban areas.

Paul had chosen his battle ground well so there was no one to intrude on what took place, well no adult anyway. Although if truth be known, my brother (he later confessed to me) had no real idea just how tough his opponent was going to be. However, he had something to do and he didn’t want a grown-up interfering.  

The big surprise was that whilst Cuddy was down and desperately gagging for air his unknown assailant  announced to the gathering crowd that perhaps ‘the bully’ had a secret of his own.

“Drop your pants.”

The hurting victim stared in disbelief. He couldn’t let it happen, the revelation that was secret to all but he and his mother. The shameful occurrence that had been hushed up for the past five years, so wasn’t about to let that become general knowledge. Suddenly realising what was about to take place Cuddy snarled in defiance before attempting to squirm away.

“Not so quick Cudthorpe.”

Painfully and reluctantly he got to his feet and, hoping to catch his opponent unaware feigned compliance but launched himself at Paul.

After many years of agilely dodging tackles in both rugby and football my brother anticipated this action and countered with a move of his own.

A squealing Cuddy suddenly found a kick to his balls, followed by an arm forced up his back more agony than he wanted to endure. With a crowd of excited, if confused schoolboys looking on, Paul made his move.

He gripped the now cowering bully (the rest of the gang proving to be ineffectual cowards when confronted by someone who could look after himself), yanked down his pants, as Cuddy had so often done to me, and exposed the fact that he wore protection himself.

The protests and swearing, the anger and spite was suddenly transformed to a whimper as his obvious disposable and glossy white plastic pants shone in the sun for all to see.

Despite his arm feeling on the verge of breaking he continued to struggle.

His fight back proved useless as my brother held him immobile. The confident, swearing, loudmouth tried to prevent anyone from seeing his obvious padding.

“As expected, you’re the pants-wetting baby in this school.” Paul announced.

Apparently, there was a loud ‘Whoooaa’, the spectators obviously not believing what had just happened, or what their eyes were witnessing.

Cuddy’s free hand tried to cover the crinkly evidence but Paul held him firm so all who wanted could see for themselves what their antagonist wore.

Baby talk aimed at Cuddy suddenly sprang from some of the braver members of the audience and he was soundly whipped by the barbed and undisguised pleasure they were taking from this embarrassing, yet entertaining, exposé.


The mobiles were out taking photographs of this shattered bully as his secret was documented and shared in an instant. All over the city phones pinged with an incoming photo of a humiliated fifteen year old sobbing and wearing baby pants.

Even those who had no idea who the subject was could enjoy the mortification on the boy’s face. For those who had been victims of the bully, it was a great day and one they would remember, and enjoy re-telling, for a long time to come. It became a very popular screen-saver around the school, where, even some teachers were known to ‘secretly’ have it on their computers and phones.

“Pick on my brother or even mention my sister ever... and you’ll be wearing a fucking nappy for the rest of your life. Are we clear?”

He made sure that anyone in earshot knew he was delivering a final warning. There were a few cheers of approval, a lot of grinning faces and visibly a few who didn’t quite believe what they’d just witnessed.

Cuddy obviously had no idea who he was being attacked by until Paul whispered my name in his ear.

The look of disbelief was followed by another whispered threat that had him instantly crawling away in fear and distress. He desperately tried to pull up his pants because the laughing and baying of the crowd was excruciating. His gang had magically dispersed and it appeared even Archie, nursing a possible broken wrist, was disgusted to see his cousin wearing a nappy.

The school bully scurrying away and clutching his pants tightly around his waist was the last image many of the onlookers saw of Cuddy because he didn’t return to school.


I only found out about this a few days later, even mum and dad didn’t know about it and Paul asked me not to say anything when I told him I knew what had happened. All my parents knew was that the Head invited them in for a chat and an apology. He said that more facts had come to light and he was now convinced Cudthorpe had indeed been bullying me but, as he was now no longer a pupil at the school hoped everything could return to normal.

The need for a psychiatrist report was to be forgotten.

Apparently, the Head heard that a boy from another school had whipped Cudthorpe’s arse but no one knew who he was or where he was from. Of course the Head should have investigated the incident but as neither Cudthorpe nor his family got in touch, and the fact he didn’t return to school (much to the delight of everyone there), Mr Blacklock seemed more than happy with the outcome.


Back at the Cudthorpe residency all hell broke loose when a copy of that photograph reached the father. He had no idea his son wore any kind of protection and blamed his ‘airy-fairy’ wife for ‘fuckin’ babyfying’ their boy. He enjoyed the fact that the family was ‘feared’ in the community but THIS undermined everything.

He was so disgusted with his son that he wouldn’t let him out of the house and as punishment (as well as a severe beating) was made to wear only his nappy and plastic pants. His father wanted him to be constantly reminded of just what he’d become.

Alas, it didn’t end there because shortly after that people who would normally have run a mile rather than confront any of the Cudthorpes began to take the mickey. Even the hard Dylan Cudthorpe, leader of his band of vicious but small time criminals, was ridiculed and asked by the many cops he came into contact with if he still wore a nappy like his boy.

The Cudthorpe legacy took a dramatic dive.


Mum and dad were surprised at this turn of events but thought it was due to their threat to reveal the Head as ineffectual; Paul wanted them to stay with that impression and desired no credit for the real reason. In fact, my ‘timid’ brother promised he’d change my nappies for me if I could keep it a secret.

He didn’t need to make such an undertaking because I couldn’t believe my brother would do such a thing. Not that I didn’t think he was tough, I’d just never imagined him being THAT tough, he was always so gentle with me. I told him I’d keep his secret as long as mum and dad didn’t ask... I was afraid of lying to them. He agreed that would be okay and patted my plastic pants and said I really was the sweetest toddler around.

He always knew what to say to cheer me up, even when I didn’t know I needed cheering up.

I hugged my hero and kissed his cheek in thanks.

However, dad agreed with the Head that there was now no excuse for me to wear a nappy to school and it was settled (reluctantly by me) that all my nappy wearing would be done outside of school hours.


When I got back to school, minus padding, Quentin, who apparently had witnessed the entire thing, was totally in awe of my brother. Other than the humiliation of being found out to be a pants-wetter (ha-ha), at the time we had no idea why Cuddy suddenly left school. Both of us noticed that the secondary bullying seemed to have lessened and people were being nice to us. Well, perhaps not nice but certainly not as nasty as it had once been.

“Shame about the nappy,” Quentin offered his commiserations, “I know you liked the security but...”

He shrugged.

“It’s best to keep school and home separate... I hope your parents are still okay with you wearing...”

“Mum, Paul and Helen are all fine, it’s just dad who’s not keen but hasn’t put a ban in place so...”

“Well that’s good. I bet you look enchanting when you’re only wearing protection.”


I was a bit shocked. He’d never spoken like this before and I wriggled guiltily in my ‘normal’ underwear because I couldn’t now show him just how much I loved my padding.

“When I’m home I can forget my school uniform and enjoy the soft fabrics I like to wear.” Quentin was letting me in on something very personal. “I do like a lot of girlie stuff... clothes, satin, lace, silk panties... and dolls,” he looked over at me, “even the occasional nappy. As long as the fabric is soft and fluffy... I like it.”

His voice had changed from the confident one he used in class to a softer, more intimate one, like he was sharing something special... with someone special.

Although everyone said he was the school sissy this was the only real acknowledgement that he was in any way effeminate... and he had no qualms about it.

“Do you like to, erm, um, dress like a girl?” I cautiously asked.

He whispered his reply.

“Sometimes... but it’s mostly I just like the feel of girl’s clothes... they’re softer, not as rigid as boy’s clothes... though I’m not so much for painted nails and make-up... that type of thing.”

He was letting that sink in.

“I suppose I’m a boy but dressed in nice girlie stuff. Mummy and daddy have never pressured me to wear one thing over another... except for school... and I could see the sense in wearing a uniform like everyone else.”

Then his voice went even softer as he let me in on one of his big secrets.

“Sometimes, when we don’t have games or gym, I wear a nice frilly nylon pair of panties and, knowing I have them on, make me feel different all day.”

I could relate to this because that’s exactly the way my nappy made me feel. It seemed strange that Quentin kept his secret whilst I wore mine so everyone could see. However, I realised I had a better excuse than he did and why I was able to get away with it... to some degree at least. I’m sure if the rest of the school knew what Quentin wore under his school trousers they would have made his life hell.

He looked me in the eye.

“And sometimes, like you, I just want to escape to being a kid again and a thick fluffy nappy and pair of slinky vinyl pants is ideal.”

Quentin was sharing quite a bit and although I was stunned by his revelations, I liked the fact that he wasn’t ashamed to tell.

The other thing he let me in on was he was perhaps one of them few people who knew it was my brother who had attacked Cuddy. He’d been near enough to hear the whispered name that Paul had said to him that made my persecutor confused and distressed. He didn’t tell his daddy who Cuddy’s assailant was though... all he said to me was he wished he had a brother who would protect him like that. I said we are already ‘brothers’ in so many ways. He appreciated that.


Apparently, at a very young age his mummy had discovered him wearing some of her clothes. She didn’t want to scare the boy so asked if he enjoyed dressing up. He told her he liked certain things and pointed to what those were.

She bought him his own version and sizes and put them in his drawer so, when he wanted to, he could wear them without using hers. Over the years his desire for soft and silky things grew and so did his collection. It made him a very happy boy and without the pressure from his family to be anything other than himself, he was equally at home wearing boys or girls clothes.

I discovered all this because, over the next few weeks, Quentin and I got quite close. We even had sleepovers at each other’s house and when he slept in my room he wore a nappy and when I was at his, well he liked me to wear a nappy, whilst he wore a lovely silky pair of pyjamas. I tried them, and whilst they were very nice I preferred my fabric nappy.

I was a little nervous about meeting his parents but I needn’t have been. His mother was a very happy, jovial woman, who took great pride in her brilliant son’s abilities. His father was a surprise. I had expected him to be serious, tall and brooding, him being a high-ranking cop and all. He was nothing like the ones on TV; he was small, roly-poly, never stopped cracking jokes and loved his flamboyant boy. I was enthusiastically greeted and instantly made to feel very welcome. They knew about my nappy wearing but it didn’t bother them at all.

Oh and something else, his room was twice the size of mine, didn’t smell of talc and was immaculate. His clothes were all neatly hung up or colour coded in his drawers and he had the most amazing collection of silks and satiny underwear, which I have to admit looked pretty good on him. In his bottom draw were pink ‘Princess’ style disposables and pink plastic panties, which I’ve seen him in and he looks fantastic.


I was incredibly pleased how quickly my family took to my guest. They knew he’d been my one support through the ‘crisis’ so that was already in his favour but, he was just so sweet I think they thought of him as like me – someone who was immature and needed looking after.

He wasn’t immature but loved the way our family operated.

This total acceptance was new to him even if his own mummy and daddy were okay with their sissy son, not all his family were of the same understanding. He tried to avoid situations where cousins, aunts and uncles were gathered because he just couldn’t be himself. He’d found a refuge at my home.

There was something else that became apparent. Whereas my Baby Dick became public knowledge because people had seen it in the school changing room, Quentin’s penis was an unknown quantity.

For some reason I just assumed he’d be like me... I was wrong... very wrong.

His silky panties strained beyond belief trying to contain his monster. Cuddy and his mob would have found it very difficult to call him names as I’m sure he’d have put the lot to shame.

It was terrific that we could both appreciate what the other found exhilarating by what we wore so I did try and get into what Quentin liked. There was no doubt that the fine material was very nice and sensual... and I suppose, at a push, I could have happily worn those silky briefs. But I’m afraid that the fact they looked more appropriate on me than him, what with barely a bulge to interrupt their silken flow around my groin, no, no, NO...  I preferred that my bits were well covered.

Once I’d seen his bulging out its glossy enclosure he observed the disbelieving look on my face and saw the shame I felt at being so small.

I immediately thought ‘I must be a baby in his eyes... let alone half the school’ but he jumped in quickly.

 “I prefer yours.” He smiled. “Mine doesn’t look right on me....” he nodded towards my miniature equipment, “but it suits you.”

I wondered if he had a cruel streak after all.

Noticing my obvious upset he added with a smile.

“Michael, you’re the complete package; a toddler in a nappy and you’re happy. It wouldn’t be right to have a large pee-pee... yours completes the perfect picture... which means my friend... you’re just perfect.”

I could tell from the way he said it that he meant it as a compliment and like Paul, seemed to know what to say to make me feel good about myself.

Quentin and I began to see a lot of one and other so now, having found a friend, we didn’t have to hide from anything or anyone.

However, when he stayed at my house I noticed a very different Quentin if Paul was around. He was bashful, soft and hardly dared speak. I think, because of the dreamy way he looked at him, he saw my brother as some kind of god because he shyly agreed with everything Paul suggested. I knew he wished he had a similar relationship to him that I did.

Thankfully, over the next few weeks he and Paul became friends. Paul couldn’t do enough for Quentin and the same seemed to be true.  He made my friend feel welcome every visit and I often found them talking quietly, with Quentin hanging on his every word. I was pleased that my brother was as accepting of my friend’s eccentricities as he was mine - typical of my brother to make him feel special.


With my nappy wearing being confined to the house (most of the time) dad didn’t stop me from dressing how I liked. Thankfully, the rest of the family would secretly change and spoke to me like I was a little kid, which I loved.

When Paul changed me it was always with such thought and tenderness, although the conversation usually got round to talking about Quentin. He’d seen him wearing his silky underwear and asked if I’d ever thought about trying that. I said I was more than happy in a nappy, which brought a smile to his face. However, I did agree that my friend certainly wore his glossy feminine clothes with a style that was very natural. My brother nodded in agreement.

Despite, the soft fabrics he wore, there was no denying the fact that Quentin always looked like a boy. Even in his most girlie creation, he still looked like a boy in feminine clothes. His hair wasn’t long, he never bothered with make-up – there was a strangely steely determination to be a boy despite his girlish preferences. He saw absolutely no difference in a boy playing with dolls, as a boy playing with soldiers.

On one sleepover, as we were getting ready for bed, he slipped into a pair of his well-padded pink princess style pull-ups with frilly plastic pants – he looked stunning. I know Paul thought so because an appreciative whistle escaped his lips. Quentin looked shyly back but didn’t try and hide away and my brother had the biggest smile on his face.


Talking of whom, I was never sure if my parents actually knew what happened at school but Paul kept up the pretence he knew nothing. However, he did keep a watchful eye by occasionally turning up at the school gates on a Friday. I’d find him deep in conversation with Quentin whilst he waited to accompany me home.  

I didn’t hear any more from the Head, I also didn’t get any further nonsense from any of the teachers. I suppose eventually Paul had been identified as my brother and a new respect or understanding was agreed in the teacher’s lounge. The two school sissies had a guardian angel that might swoop down at any moment and beat the living daylights out of anyone who gave us grief. It probably wasn’t true but was a theory I liked?

Perhaps he didn’t know it but Paul had instantly become a legend for the many who had suffered at the hands of Cuddy and his kind. That incident was played over and over again by kids who hadn’t even witnessed it but told everyone - ‘they were there’.

Meanwhile, at home I was happy to feel the warm wet material surrounding my little willy, it was a sensation I was beginning to enjoy more and more. Thankfully, that guardian angel changed my nappy when it was soaked and cosseted me in love on a daily basis. He even volunteered to do the same for my friend should he want it when he came to sleep over... an offer that Quentin timidly accepted.

It’s heart-warming to see the affectionate way they each look at one and other when this happens.

What a wonderful, understanding and loving brother I am blessed with.

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