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Jimmy’s Story                                                                                                                    by Les Lea

Mary quietly entered her home. She’d had to work a little late at the office but she knew that two of her three children would be out getting on with their lives... she also knew that one wouldn’t.

Jimmy was laid out on the sofa dozing. The TV was showing some nature program on elephants whilst the soft, reassuring and knowledgeable English voice of the narrator explained the animal’s lifecycle. The image showed a mother elephant looking after her recently born baby and what she had to do to protect it in those first few hours.

Mary stood in quiet appreciation of her youngest son. At that moment, when he looked like he did, her heart filled with the love only a mother can have for her child. His soft, stretchy Disney pyjamas made him appear so damn cute. The top of his PJ bottoms revealed the thick, semi-opaque plastic protection he was wearing and the thick padding they kept in place. His shallow breathing, floppy blond hair and extremely long eye-lashes, only accentuating his sweet, innocent looks, but what topped the entire scene off was how he was soothing himself with his thumb, which was gently embedded between his full moist lips.

Mary couldn’t have been greeted by a more agreeable or more reassuring sight as she slowly woke up her sleepy-eyed son.

“Time for bed sweetheart,” she said as his eyes fluttered into recognition. “It’s way past your bedtime and you look so, so sleepy. Let’s get you upstairs…”

His dribble-coated thumb was replaced by a smile as he recognised his mama was now home.

“I stayed awake for you…” then realised he hadn’t.

“Tried,” his mother gently corrected with a grin and pushed some loose strands of hair away as she kissed her son’s forehead.

She helped him to his feet. His diaper crinkled as he moved also revealing more of his padding and plastic pants. She reached in and pulled them up for him.

“Look,” she said pointing towards the digital timer on the cable box, “it’s after nine and you have school tomorrow.”

She tapped his padded bottom and followed him up the stairs as he waddled, unselfconsciously, to his room. She pulled back the covers and let him climb in. His thick padding making sure he was well protected for the night ahead. Not that he often needed it these days but it seemed he just couldn’t sleep unless his night time diaper was in place.

He hadn’t actually wet or messed himself for quite some time but was scared stiff that he might repeat an incident that happened when he was five. Since that experience ten years ago he never trusted himself to be without protection. The mess, the smell, the effort of cleaning him and his bed up (the sheer awfulness of the memory caused him to shake uncontrollably), and everything the family had to go through on that particularly unpleasant night made him fear any kind of relapse. He’d begged his parents if he could forever wear a diaper when he went to bed.

His mother wasn’t in any rush to change things. Eight years earlier she’d lost one son, John who, at fifteen, had been found dead from a drugs overdose in the family garage. He was the eldest of her four children; always positive, clever, the leader, the experimenter, the knowing one of his group of peers but it was he who was now no longer around - she was determined that nothing untoward would happen to her other kids. Jimmy was only seven when his brother died and that led to another series of unfortunate accidents in his pants and bed (a repeat of his experience when he was five), that the rest of the family, coming to terms with the death of his brother, could have done without.  Little Jimmy was beside himself with grief both for his lost sibling and the extra work he was adding to the laundry.


Of course, it was all connected and trauma affects people in different ways but Jimmy, well he never really got over that terrible day. However, more was to come, within six months his father Joe also passed away. An industrial disease that had plagued him for many years eventually spread rapidly throughout his body and ended only with the man’s last cough and spluttering fit. The compensation that all the families affected by this terrible disease had been fighting for came two weeks after his death. So, although his wife and children would be comfortable, he would never see that money do the good he hoped it might achieve. Friends and neighbours, and to a certain degree Mary, all thought that the untimely death of his eldest son had hastened his demise. No one could be certain but it certainly coincided with Joe being at his lowest ebb. Losing two members of his family had been hard on the youngest who began to cling to the things he knew, the things that gave him comfort and a sense of stability. His soft cuddly teddy Mr Chips was always by his side, his thick diapers offered security, his blue pacifier (dum-dum) was never far away and, if he could, he would never let mama out of his sight.

Unlike most boys his age Jimmy didn’t like to go out, play sport, play X-Box… he didn’t want to do any of the things most other fifteen year-old boy did. He was now at the age his eldest brother had been when he died but you wouldn’t know it, the difference in temperament between them was quite staggering.  Whereas John had been confident and extravert, his youngest brother was shy and reserved. Despite him growing like a fifteen year-old he was still very much a child. He clung to his mama. He helped her bake, helped her shop and helped her sew. In fact, he was more of a daughter to her than his sister, seventeen year-old Marcia, who was part time at college and part time at the beauty salon. She, like his older brother, eighteen year-old  Paul, was also very independent and spent more time out of the house than in, often only returning for the occasional meal and to sleep. Paul took after his father, who had been an ace with anything mechanical, worked in the local garage fixing engines though these days was hardly ever home. The room he shared with his younger brother still had his single bed made and ready for him but he spent most of his time with his girlfriend at her place. She was ten years older than him but they seemed happy enough and Paul, being an extremely likable roguish, laddish type of lad, was confident in his relationship with her and everyone else.  

Once, when Jimmy was younger and being picked on by both school mates and the occasional teacher, it was Paul who had thumped the bullying ring-leader in front of the bullying teacher. The withering look he gave the horrified teacher (and the implied threat), even from one so young was enough for him to change his attitude towards “That sissy little fag”. It would have been easy for a self-assured lad like Paul to hate his brother’s childish ways but in fact, the family had grown used to him and liked that he was sweet, naïve and exceptional. Jimmy never said a bad word about, or to, anyone. He was kind, gentle and, as far as Paul was concerned, woe-betide anyone who tried to take advantage or change him.

…to be continued


Part 2

Jimmy loved to draw and paint, his artwork was well beyond his childish ways, in fact, it was way beyond that of a fifteen year-old. The clever use of colour and shade had produced a wonderful, original landscape which festooned the walls of his bedroom.  As his mother stroked her youngest son’s brow to help him drop off she looked around and never ceased to marvel at her boy’s remarkable talent.

On top of the art, from a very early age he’d learned to use his mama’s sewing machine and was more than competent making little shorts and clothing for Mr Chips. Because he always wore a diaper and plastic pants at night, he wanted his teddy bear to be dressed the same, so he made him little outfits that were similar to his own. Before long he made stuff that matched both him and Mr Chips and it amazed the family to see how creative their ‘baby’ brother had become. They were relatively simple things like shorts, PJs (the Disney pair he was currently wearing a fine example) and colourful shirts all appeared to fit him well. How he managed to get sizes, proportions and everything else to work so perfectly was a mystery to everyone, including Jimmy. As he gained more experience he could be found mending his brother and sister’s damaged clothes, altering anything that needed it and devoted a great deal of time making clothes for his mama. For special events like birthdays or Christmas his enthusiasm and eye for detail often produced something extraordinary that left the rest of the family wondering where he found such inspiration.


His mama could tell her boy was fast asleep. He very rarely stayed up late and once in his protection and clutching hold of Mr Chips was soon nodding off. His sleepy thumb made its way to his mouth but his mama caught him just in time and slipped in his much loved dum-dum. It was astonishing to see how childlike her fifteen year-old appeared once he was sucking contentedly and hugging his teddy. His mother often wondered what kind of world her youngest went to when he slept but it was one he could never tell her about.

Whilst his mother thought her son was in some wonderful picturesque, beautiful and peaceful place, which had inspired the ideal creative visions he drew, he was really living his innermost terrors. Many times he’d had the same dream where his entire family were dead. He’d lost everyone and unfortunately in the dream repeated that messy and wet experience he’d had at five and seven over and over again. His vivid and scary dreams would be a torment as he struggled to restrain his bodily functions whilst also searching for his deceased family. In those nightmares he constantly messed - yet when he woke up he was clean and dry. Oddly enough, on the few occasions he’d woken up wet or messy he hadn’t had that particular dream. In fact, he couldn’t remember having dreamt at all, so the cause of the foul outcome was confusing. It was one of the reasons he insisted on his thick diaper and plastic pants to sleep in, he felt he could cope with anything if he was well protected.  

Once awake his fear disappeared and he’d get ready for school by slowly shrugging down his PJs, wriggling out of his plastic pants and unpinning his dry diaper. He was always very precise and, if the diaper was clean, he’d fold it neatly ready for reapplying at bedtime. He’d wash and slip into his boxers (usually with some cartoon characters covering them) and be ready for the day with hardly a hint of his babyish ways. However, he always kept a disposable in his school bag… to be on the safe side.


At school he was generally well liked. He was top in art and English but was failing badly in math, science and gym and no amount of homework or extra lessons could change that. He tried his best but just wasn’t adept at these subjects. In gym, or sport in general, his school mates all thought he threw the ball ‘like a girl’, but he was always so much fun and jokey, it didn’t seem to matter, he knew his failings and it just didn’t bother him. However, when it came to wanting scenery painted for school productions, it was Jimmy they called upon to create some enchanting or spectacular backdrop… there he had no equal and his teachers knew it.

It was an annoying fact for all the macho boys that it was Jimmy who attracted all the girls. He was always surrounded by them and if a boy said anything derogatory about him it was the girls who were quick to jump to his defence. It was some of the older girls who desperately wanted to mother this sweet, mild-mannered, serene, unworldly ‘toddler’ who lived in a teenager’s body. If they had their own way he would be coddled and cuddled nonstop by his growing number of female admirers. If they’d only been aware of what he wore once he was home, they would have been even keener to be the ones to look after him and lining up to change his diaper at break time.   

Some boys called him a ‘big baby’ (and worse) to his face but Jimmy would just shrug and carry on. If he was occasionally confronted by anyone it wouldn’t be long before a girl would wade in to the aggressor and make him feel small and useless; girls have a way of rapidly cutting a lad who is up himself down to size. Jimmy took no pleasure in all this because it hardly registered with him as he had no interest in what other’s thought of him.

One aggressive older boy, Richard, who for some reason had become incensed by the hordes of girls surrounding Jimmy as he modelled a new shirt he’d made, came barrelling in and ripped off the sleeve. Shocked and upset Jimmy had no idea what to do but the girls banded together and attacked the lad, forcing him to the ground and ripping off his pants and underwear. He was left desperately trying to cover his naked lower half with a short flimsy t-shirt. It created quite a stir in the playground and that led to a year of embarrassing taunts. His nickname ‘Little Dick’, which even the gym teacher called him, was one he could certainly have lived without.

…to be continued


Part 3

Once home Jimmy changed out of his school clothes and slipped into something he found far more comfortable; a diaper, which wasn’t as thick as the ones he wore at night, and one of the many covers he’d made for himself and Mr Chips.

Often his mama would find him bent over the sewing machine creating some new item (he was currently creating a short denim coverall he’d seen a boy wearing in a TV program) dressed in a thin t-shirt and diaper with its colourful cover. He used all manner of fabrics and patterns but would try them on his teddy before he made a larger pair for himself. Both he and Mr Chips had a closet full of fantastic, recently made colourful outfits.

Mary loved the intense focus on her boy’s face as he carefully aligned the material with the needle, the bulge under his delightfully padded cover (on this occasion displaying a cartoon lion’s face embroidered on the front and a tail on the back) was all very childish and juvenile, much like her boy. Once he realised she was there he would instantly stop, a broad smile relieving the look of concentration and rush over for a cuddle, as if he hadn’t seen her for a long time, reassured she was now home and near.

For her part Mary was always ready with a hug, she knew how much snuggling meant to her son and who could have denied such a sweetly dressed, grown up toddler any form of love and attention. She’d hug and pat his diapered bottom, kiss his head and ask him what new project he had under way. Jimmy was always keen to share each creation with his mama and he would enthusiastically draw her into the piles of partly made items that hung or lay around the room and explain what he was hoping to do… and whisper who it was for. Mary would regularly arrive home with fabric she had seen in a store, online or samples she simply thought would be something he might enjoy. She loved the way his eyes lit up when he received these unexpected bundles. No matter what design the material possessed Jimmy could conjure up something quite unexpected and brilliant.

With it mainly just being him and his mama he wore things around the house that he would never wear outside. He loved his padding so that was always the first thing to change into, after  that, all manner of shorts or stretchy items, covers and added protection were paraded for his mama’s comments. She was never dismissive of any of his creations and even when his brother or sister visited, they were equally in awe, even if it was a pretty childish design or pattern. There was something about Jimmy’s innocence and infantile wonder that made him special in so many ways - it was refreshing to have a boy so comfortable in himself that he didn’t feel he had to compete, or even be like his peers.


To Mary her son had stopped growing up from the age of seven after his eldest brother died. Despite physically growing he happily stayed a child. For whatever reason Jimmy had decided on this course of action, either deliberately of psychosomatically, she loved every moment they spent together. The feeling was mutual, he made no secret of his love for his mama and was never happier than when they snuggled down together in front of the TV, he in his latest creation covering his thick protection and she with her arm embracing her little treasure.

Sometimes she wondered what would happen to her boy. Would he find life so much more difficult than anyone else? Would he be able to cope should anything happen to her? He was undoubtedly one in a million but she was of the opinion, as she cuddled her well-padded son, that many parents would give their eyeteeth to have someone who offered such constant entertainment and unconditional love.

She loved her boy and he loved her.


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