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on the porch holding his mother’s hand. It was late,
very late for him but the night was perfect, not a cloud
to obstruct the glorious view of the starry night.
Debbie, his mother, had got her sixteen year-old son up
to see a spectacle; a nocturnal display of bright
shooting stars streaking across the sparkling dark mass.
It was something every child should experience so
thought her son would be as enthralled as she was, not
only by the blazing trails but the glorious and immense
clear night sky of which Earth was just a tiny part.
It was around
1am, although Chrissy had no idea what time it was
because normally he’d be fast asleep. In fact, he’d
probably have been in bed for five or six hours but his
mother didn’t want him to miss this wonderful
disturbed from his usual deep, deep slumber and was
barely conscious of his mother rousing him from his warm
cot to witness something outside. He was vaguely aware
of the noise as the holding clips on the safety bars
were unfastened and slid down before a pair of hands
reached in and gently pulled him to his feet. As he was
gradually cajoled from under the covers and led
unsteadily out onto the porch he stumbled and grabbed
her hand for support.
“What do you
think Chrissikins… isn’t that just beautiful?”
His mother spoke
with wonder and enthusiasm but Chrissy just shuddered
and rubbed his eyes to see what exactly she was pointing
“Mama… it’s the…
er… the dark.”
She smiled as
she often did when her sweet son didn’t quite comprehend
something that was bigger than his imagination.
“Yes it is
sweetie, but look how clear it is… how beautiful the sky
is lit up for you… how each star is twinkling to greet
She would have
gone on but saw her son’s eyes begin to focus as he
observed his first shooting star zip across the ‘dark’.
The night was
warm but a gentle breeze occasionally rippled across the
grassy lawn and subtly flapped at his nightie. The soft
shiny white nylon, which barely came down to his thighs,
tickled as he ran his hand over it to keep the flimsy
garment from blowing up and revealing his matching silky
padded diaper. Not that anyone in the darkness would
have noticed, or cared, Chrissy had worn a diaper since
he was eight, so it was certainly no secret.
His mother was
dressed in her own nightie though had a silky bathrobe
wrapped over it hugging tightly to her ample frame. Her
son was only a couple of inches shorter but standing in
his loose girlie nightwear, wispy blond hair flowing to
his shoulders, had there been anyone around to notice,
they looked more like mother and daughter.
breeze made him shiver, his bare legs displaying small
goosebumps as he hugged his teddy for comfort. Although
warm, it wasn’t as warm as his comfy bed so this brief
waft of cooler air had an effect - he released a spurt
of pee into his damp diaper. The warm glow lasted longer
than the trail of the falling star his mother had just
pointed out, the appearance of which made him slightly
happier to be standing out in the open at such an
but still held her hand tightly; in the other he
clutched Mr Cribbs, his long serving teddy bear. Mr
Cribbs was very rarely far away from Chrissy’s grasp but
when it was the howl of distress could be heard in the
next village. For Chrissy at least, the cool night and
sound of all those nocturnal critters making noises of
love and death, gave the situation an uneasy eerie feel…
he was glad of Mr Cribbs’s reassuring furry presence.
His mother kept
pointing to various glimmering stars and planets, naming
the constellations and getting excited as yet another
meteor ripped across the sky tracing its brief but
brilliant sparkling trajectory. Chrissy nodded and tried
to be as enthusiastic as mama but really wanted to get
back to bed so he and Mr Cribbs could get some sleep.
Besides, now he was awake he could feel just how heavy
his diapers was, which meant he was already pretty
clammy so would rather his mama change him than look at
Usually, when he
goes to bed, and the safety bars are drawn up to stop
him from falling out, he lies there knowing that mama
has wrapped him in a thick diaper and rubber panties
secure enough to soak up any accidents and stop any
leakage. With such padding he generally lasted the night
unhindered and unconcerned but now he was vertical, and
standing in the open air, he wondered if she would
attend to his sagging needs. Not that such things
worried him, he may have been aware of it but rarely did
he have any say in when or where he got changed.
The weight and
fullness of his soggy diaper had made him waddle more
than usual. He stood with his legs well apart and hoped
that the return to his cosy cot wasn’t going to be too
long in coming. He yawned and shivered, then stretched
and wriggled - the silky mound of his shiny panties and
the movement of his nightie caught a little of the light
from the meagre source available. On some level the
fabric’s sudden streaks of dull quicksilver were not
unlike the aerial display.
“Mama… am cold,”
he shivered, “can I pweese go bye-byes?”
She nodded, sad
that he wasn’t as interested in the magnitude of the
night sky as she was but grateful that she had such a
sweet and loving son.
Once inside and
Chrissy had been led back to his room she checked if his
diaper needed changing. She pulled the nightie up to his
chest and gently slid her hand down the front of his
protection. It was a process he’d gotten used to over
the years and didn’t mind that, like on other occasions,
this didn’t lead to a change.
you’re damp,” she smiled, “but there’s plenty of
absorbency left. Do you think you’ll manage until
Chrissy was so
tired he hardly registered what was happening just glad
to be back in bed. The sleepy boy’s eyes were already
heavy and she could see it was a struggle for him to
stay awake. Something that might have been the sound of
agreement passed his lips as he settled down into the
comfort of his cosy bed where he was already cuddling Mr
his nightie so it almost covered his thick diaper and
kissed his precious head. The soft fleecy bunny rabbit
blanket was pulled up slightly to cover his naked legs
but, almost automatically, his feet kicked it off as he
turned onto his side and wriggled against teddy to get
for a few moments as her boy fidgeted. The thick padding
and silky cover once again the focus of attention in his
cot, whilst the rustling of his protection against the
plastic under-sheet reminded her of her little boy’s own
trials and tribulations.
that hung on a ribbon from the nightie was inserted back
between his lips, which accepted the soother with no
complaint. Yet before mama had raised the safety bars,
Chrissy was once again on his way back to dreamland.
She’d never had
a problem with Chrissy; he’d always been a good sleeper.
Other parents might have complained that their new
babies were just too demanding, getting them up to be
fed throughout the night, but not so little baby
Christian. For some reason he slept through the night
and although he cried occasionally (and certainly made
up for it during the day) their night times were very
rarely disturbed. He was a good baby… and still a good
illumination in the room was from a revolving nightlight
that spread shadows of running horses across the wall.
It had been his sister’s and like Mr Cribbs, he wouldn’t
part with it for the world.
again as she remembered the last eight traumatic years.
thoughts invaded her head she knew there would be no
sleep until she had exorcised her inner monologue. They
surfaced quite regularly these days but usually she was
able to bury them under her daily work and time spent
looking after Chrissy. However, tonight
the wonderful night sky had been just one of the many
triggers that set her off down Memory Lane.
She returned to
the porch and once again took in the wonderful
glittering heavenly vastness before examining the view
from her home and looking out across the dark expanse of
lawn. It was a scene she never tired of, even at night.
‘homestead’ style property was set in a couple of acres
in a beautiful rural part of town. The large, four
bedroom, wooden structure seemed to fit in well with the
surroundings and had been much admired by visitors. The
nearest neighbours were quite some distance away and the
lane leading up to their home was almost half a mile
long. Even in the dark she could just make out the vague
grey outline of the white driveway that eventually led
to the welcoming wooden front porch.
In the west the
glow on the horizon showed where the town was, its
lights probably killing off the aerial spectacle for its
inhabitants. However, because of the lack of clouds, it
was just a pale radiant blush. Sometimes, when clouds
were low and heavy it appeared as a seething tangle of
yellow light giving the impression the place was on
fire. To the north was a gentle light indicating the
much nearer village but the rest was just wonderful
countryside; fields, fences, rolling hills and way off
in the east, the craggy points of Darvil’s Bluff.
As far as Debbie
was concerned, when snow fell and the moon climbed large
behind it in a clear night sky, it produced the most
beautiful sight in the world. It was partly the reason
she never wanted to leave even though there was just her
and Chrissy living in such a large house in such a
secluded area. Because the location was much sought
after there had been offers but was adamant - she would
only leave in a box… and not a moment before.
She sat on the
porch swing and searched the heavens once more. The sky
was alive with millions of rippling stars billions of
miles away but the brightest twinkled as if just for
She sighed once
again and tears formed.
she whispered half to herself and half to any godly
presence that might be listening.
“We miss you
honey. We miss you every day.”
continued to dazzle as another, much larger, meteor
ripped a huge arc across the spectacular night sky as if
in response to Debbie’s tears.
thought of you cheers me up sweetheart… but thank you
for showing me you’re there and listening.”
It was nights
like this when she felt the closest to her daughter.
They had both appreciated the beauty of the large
shimmering moon rising behind Darvil’s Bluff and both
agreed it was probably the most stunning and picturesque
vista in the entire county.
Tears of both
love and grief rolled down her face as she gently swung
back and forth. Her deliberations drifted back on how
the last eight years had changed both her and Chrissy’s
life so dramatically.
It had started
with the symptoms of flu. Christine, Debbie and Thomas
Longstaff’s vibrant, all-action fourteen year-old
daughter had, unlike her usual easy going temperament,
complained of a dry throat, cough and ‘stuffed’ nose.
Her mother checked and noticed the temperature was
climbing towards 100 degrees but it was decided a few
days rest with plenty to liquid would soon have her back
up and about.
the symptoms deteriorated and by the weekend she was
running a colossal fever and had become completely
lethargic. The doctor was summoned and whilst she waited
for him to arrive Debbie called her husband at work to
tell him of the new developments, her worries and for
him to return home as soon as possible. The family owned
the company but his office said he wasn’t in that day,
despite when he left that morning saying an urgent order
needed processing… he was nowhere to be found?
had been raised for some time now about Tommy, her
husband of fifteen years, and his late nights or weekend
working. However, now, with their daughter ill, that
mistrust had to take a back seat. She left messages on
his cell and at the office for him to come home
immediately. She emphasised the urgency but even when
the doctor arrived he still hadn’t returned the call.
After a very
brief examination the doctor called the emergency
services, Christine’s dramatic downturn was more serious
than anyone thought and she needed crucial specialist
In the meantime,
Debbie’s sister arrived just in time to look after
Christian; the Longstaff’s other child, their eight
year-old son who was already in a distressed state over
his sister’s illness. He couldn’t understand how his
lively playmate and best friend looked so awful lying
there and he couldn’t get her to respond to his silly
jokes. He was very worried.
With a noise
that could be heard a good five minutes before its
arrival the ambulance, with siren blaring, drew up
sharply outside the house. The doctor and medics quickly
loaded up Christine and her mother into the back before,
with sirens blaring, taking off at pace down the country
each other for comfort was Christian and his aunt, both
in tears and both extremely anxious.
That was to be the last time Christian ever saw his
had taken hold of her body suddenly became ultra-toxic
and even before the ambulance arrived at the hospital
Christine had died. The death of such a lively girl was
a tremendous shock and the effect it had on the family
was equally toxic. It saw the implosion of the family
unit happen with speed.
eventually arrived at the hospital but Debbie, in no
mood to be placated even over the death of her daughter,
launched into a frenzied attack of her unfaithful,
selfish and lying husband. Anger had overtaken grief and
her final words “It should be you lying in the morgue”
aimed at her double-dealing husband meant that any
pretence of family togetherness was no longer possible.
Christian had been very close. Despite the six year age
gap both siblings enjoyed each other’s company and were
often seen together on some adventure or indulging in
one of their special games where only they knew the
rules. Now, with the last image of his sister being
stretchered away amid urgent wailing sirens, Christian
fell to pieces. The fact that his best friend and sister
was no longer going to be around left him unable to
cope, which toppled him into a deep and dark despair.
It was the start
of the eight year-old relapsing slowly back into his
childhood where he felt safe.
the truth of where Thomas had been when their daughter
had been rushed to hospital eventually became known, the
divorce wasn’t too far behind. Debbie despised her
husband, and the trollop he was having an affair with,
but made sure that the settlement was very much in her
favour and she retained the house.
determined that Chrissy and her were not going to suffer
because of her husband’s infidelity and when all the
assets were added up, she retained a large chunk of both
the business and property portfolio. She was a far
better negotiator than all her husband’s legal team but
stayed her hand at bankrupting him completely. He walked
away with occasion parental visiting rights but not
enough money that would give him, and his whore, the
lifestyle she’d come to expect. That relationship didn’t
last long after the settlement.
was another casualty in all this - Christian found the
loss of both sister and father just too much to cope
with (even though his father had visiting rights) and
slipped into a strange world that only he seemed to
understand. To begin with the difficulty was revealed by
night-time accidents. He’d wake up crying and his bed
would be a horrendous wet mess; after three consecutive
nights of this Debbie put him temporarily back into
diapers. Part of the reason was to prevent the bedding
from being destroyed by his soiling but also hoped that
being in a diaper might make him feel too babyish and,
through embarrassment, stop his nightly bodily
gained no response. He didn’t argue or create or
complain that his thick protection was for babies - he
didn’t realise or even acknowledged this change to his
nightly routine. Over the coming weeks the problem got
worse and he’d wake up screaming, crying and with a
completely filled diaper. Things escalated when every
night he’d tremble as some kind of terror overtook his
mind, which saw him physically throwing himself out of
bed and often causing injury.
psychiatrist was no help at all coming up with no better
suggestion than Christian being restrained to the bed.
As a last resort, Debbie had his cot adapted and fitted
with high rails to stop him falling and hurting himself.
This seemed to make a difference so the disturbed boy
began to settle down to a reasonably untroubled night.
whenever his routine was altered; changed out of diapers
and returned to briefs or the rails on the bed were left
down, his anxieties reared up again. He fretted and
became nervous of others. If he was out walking along
the street with his mother and an emergency vehicle sped
past with its siren blaring, Christian’s bladder and
bowel reacted and he messed his pants.
trembled nearly all the time. He was scared of perhaps,
like his sister, being taken away and never seen again.
He cried, he had temper tantrums over nothing and then
he’d cry some more holding on to his mama for dear life,
telling her he was never going to let go.
It seemed that
the only way he could cope was if he was completely
safe, bodily and physically, at all times. His diapers
became thicker and in use 24/7. He wanted constant
attention and cried if he didn’t get it, which was
something he’d never done before and, perhaps strangest
of all, sulk if his mama didn’t praise him like she had
when he was a little boy. He went out of his way to be a
good boy for mama because mama looked after him. He
needed her constant reassurance. Mama and Mr Cribbs were
the only two things in his life he cared about, whilst
diapers took care of everything else.
He’d found all
his old baby stuff put away in the spare room and
insisted, through constant pleas and pet lips, that his
mother use it. She’d already found use for his fabric
diapers, pins and baby powder but now found herself
surrounded with his toys, rattles, stuffed animals, baby
bottles, pacifiers, onesies and a host of old baby
clothes. He’d happily play for hours with a little
plastic toy or his stuffed animals and hardly
acknowledge anything else going on until it was time to
be fed. Of course he was too big for most of the
clothing but that didn’t stop him trying to wear
whatever he could.
He’d cry and cry
because it no longer fit and stomp around still trying
to get into it. Debbie didn’t know what to do but
noticed that he calmed down considerably if he was
sucking on his binkie or fed from a baby’s bottle. She
knew that there was something inexplicable going on in
her son’s head. After all that had happened she wasn’t
that surprised but no amount of therapy seemed to make a
difference, it was as if he’d just shut down on growing
Also, and the
main thing that Debbie was paranoid about, was losing
her other child. The thought of him in some kind of
institution, although suggested, had been dismissed
immediately. She would do what was needed to keep him
safe, secure and nearby. Her solution was to get him the
onesies and other babywear he so desired, which would
stretch to fit and keep him comfortable.
speech pattern also changed and became more childlike.
He wobbled as he walked and that wasn’t just because of
the huge diaper he wore between his legs, he seemed so
much more unsteady around the house and, without help,
mostly just crawled from place to place. When they did
go out he clung to his mother’s hand and didn’t dare let
go. Something else happened and Debbie didn’t realise
she was doing it until her sister pointed it out, she
spoke to him as if he was still a baby. Short sentences,
baby descriptions, simple phrases and words, otherwise
Chris would just look at her as if confused by what she
All these things
worked and Christian seemed to be happy with his new
life dressed and acting like a toddler. For his mama,
washing diapers every day didn’t seem a chore, nor did
the constant changing or keeping him all clean and tidy
because she knew her little boy was so sweet and loving
and more importantly, always close.
about four months after his sister had died, Christian
wondered naked, apart from his protection, into her
bedroom and, unknown to his mother, put on some of
Christine’s clothes. When he caught his mother’s
attention she suddenly called out “Chrissy”, the name
they all called Christine. She was shocked by his sudden
appearance and for a few seconds thought she was seeing
an apparition. She was still in shock when he waddled
over to her and cried as he hugged his mama.
“I… I… I mish,”
he sobbed and had trouble getting the words out, “I
His roar of
absolute grief was only matched by the sudden
realisation that his mama was also bawling as she hugged
and stroked her son’s dress. He held on to her for
comfort as tightly as she held on to him and patted his
thickly padded bottom through the thin flowery fabric.
It was quite some time before either would let go.
When they did,
the fact he was wearing some of his sister’s clothes
didn’t seem so much of a problem. However, Debbie
suggested that perhaps he should only wear her clothes
at certain times and when she knew about it. Somehow he
seemed to understand and accept these conditions with a
childish shrug but that night wore one of her nighties
over his thick night-time diaper and refused to wear
anything else when he went to bed. This was the moment
when Christian became Chrissy, a sort of loving term
that referred to both Christine and Christian and a name
which he responded to very well.
From then on his
night-time regime was mainly bath, powder, diaper,
plastic (or some other shiny cover) and perhaps one of
Christine’s nighties… and of course… Mr Cribbs.
Occasionally, on a cool night, his mama could get him
into a pair of PJs or a thick onesie but he preferred to
wear his sister’s nightie. His mama thought this was his
way of still being close to her and, as that’s why
Debbie had kept all her stuff, so she could still
maintain that link, she couldn’t deny her son that same
It appeared that
once his mama had settled him down with a bottle, a
binkie or sweet words of encouragement, and the safety
bars were locked into place on his cot, her little boy
knew he was secure and could safely drop off. However,
he was always dressed for bedtime by 8pm and seemed
happy with this arrangement which stayed with him as he
His mama was
strangely jovial with this turn of events. Quite
unexpectedly she now had a baby, and occasional
daughter, to look after. He dressed in his sister’s
clothes when the urge took hold but always wore his
diaper underneath. Unfortunately, his potty training was
negligible; it was as if he’d completely given up on the
entire idea of going to the toilet, so his diapers were
in constant use. His thick cushion of protection was the
dominant thing to whatever he wore and would poke out
from under his dress or swell out his juvenile shorts.
Over the years,
as the sadness of losing her daughter gradually began to
be less painful she saw that Chrissy had provided her
with a wonderful alternative reason for living… and one
to which she was happy to devote her life. As he grew
older his clothes stayed as he liked them; colourful and
juvenile. His mother thought he was the most endearing
little toddler and did all she could to keep him content
in his infantile, diaper-clad world.
When his father
came to visit, which was only at Christmas and
birthdays, he hated to see his son in such a state,
although he couldn’t deny the boy seemed blissfully
happy. Every time he hugged his son and patted his
well-padded bottom he wished he’d never had the affair
because perhaps then his son might be growing into a man
instead of staying in his closed infantile world. He
found it difficult that his son had stopped maturing and
had settled for diapers and a pacifier as his life. He
begged his ex-wife to get Christian to a psychiatrist,
which she always told him the same thing - there was
nothing they could do for him… his mind had simply shut
down to everything except what he now had. No amount of
bribes, cajoling, threats or visits to the psychiatrist
had changed his mental state in all this time so,
whether they liked it or not – Chrissy was who he was.
Chrissy, time to get up and…”
He was quite
exhausted from all the charging about with the
Teletubbies in his dreams, and of course the break to
his usual sleep pattern to watch shooting stars, so it
took a few moments to make the transition from slumber
The sweet childish voice said through bleary eyes.
sweetness, let’s get you ready for the day. It’s
wonderful outside so I think we need to be out in the
fresh air for as long as we can…”
She ran her
finger playfully over his naked hairless tummy.
The bunny fleece
blanket had got caught around his legs, whilst the
nightie had ridden up his chest, leaving the huge soaked
cushioning around his groin needing urgent attention.
The shiny cover was stretched tightly over the sodden
diaper but the size didn’t seem to worry Chrissy as he
lay enjoying his mama’s attention.
tickled some more as the baby-teen wriggled and chuckled
his way into the morning’s brightness.
he-he… awwww mama stop.”
The rustle of
those shiny pants as he squirmed delightedly on top of
the rubber sheet making mama beam at his giggly wake up
As usual he was
still wetting as he struggled childishly against his
mama’s nimble fingers. Eventually she stopped and slid
those pleasing fingers down the front of his plastic
pants to check the state of wetness.
Chrissikins, soaked again,” she said mischievously as he
tried to recover from a bout of happy squealing and
He smiled up at
her. It didn’t matter whether he was wet or dry (which
was very rare) mama always liked to make a good-humoured
fuss when it came to change, clean and put her precious
child back in fluffy diapers. He is mama’s sweet little
baby so it’s expected that diapers will get messy
because that’s what they are there for. As mama always
explains; her lovable little boy shouldn’t have to worry
about finding a toilet when he’s always well-shielded
should he need one.
Mama always made
sure his protection fitted tightly, that rubber pants or
plastic covers keep him from leaking but the rule is -
he must tell her should he wet, he doesn’t want one of
those nasty, itchy rashes now does he? She likes to know
that he’s happy and comfortable, clean and tidy and
always smells like a ‘sensitive rose bathed in the
she always says as she washes him spotless and
sprinkles on baby powder over his pale sleek body.
Once he’s all cleaned-up the fuzzy diaper with the
thick soaker is applied and snugly pinned into
place. Occasionally at this point he’d totter over
to the dresser and chose what he wants to wear,
though more often than not it’s left to his mama to
dress him and then he’s ready for the day ahead.
Every day it’s the same. Debbie faces it with
same determination she always has, since her
daughter’s death and ‘rebirth’ of her son, she’s
there to ensure his world makes sense and that in
turn makes sense of hers.
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