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My Nightmares Have Become Dreams                                                                   by Les Lea

Part 1

The crowd is cheering as I stand almost on the halfway line at Wembley Stadium. I have just scored the most spectacular long-range goal of my career in this, the final game that will determine the Premier League title. One hundred thousand people are shouting my name “Joey, Joey, Joey”. One hundred thousand people’s eyes are on me as I become aware that… all was not what it appears.

I don’t understand. As I stand with my arms held aloft in celebration, everything suddenly goes quiet. Where has my shirt disappeared to? Why are my shorts suddenly slipping down my thighs… and why can I do nothing to prevent this from happening? Here I am, alone in the middle of the pitch, naked but for a thick nappy and the crowd starts laughing at me. I see my image up on the big screen. The terry-towelling nappy is held together at the front by a single huge pink safety pin. It all looks so thick and immense in close-up.

The laughter grows as I try to hide my embarrassment; the big screen captures every detail. There is nowhere to hide and I can do nothing to conceal my shame. There appears to be no one else on this hallowed turf to protect me. No team mates, no opposing team… where have they all gone?

The supporter’s laughter reaches hysterical levels as they point and shout - wondering if I wanted my mummy…

 ‘Do you want your bot-bot changing?’

‘Do you need a dummy?’

‘Ahhh, poor widdle baby’.

They all appear to be screaming baby-talk at me and as they do so, the flow of warm piss into my nappy is picked up by the camera, as is the fact that I am now on the verge of tears.

The crowd’s mocking intensifies. 

Abruptly, as if from nowhere, a man in black appears by my side. I recognise him as a referee and he is carrying something. He pulls a whistle from his mouth and sticks it in my own but it isn’t his whistle, it’s a dummy, all pink and bulbous. I suck on it briefly and it restores some calm but then he thrusts a teddy bear into my arms, which for some reason I gratefully accept and start to cuddle. That’s when my bowels let loose and I fill my nappy once more only now, the camera picks out the huge discolouration on the seat. The big screen displays my disgrace, while a hundred thousand voices rise in laughter filling my head as I am led crying from the field of play, waddling slowly in my heavy, sagging nappy, towards the exit.


The noise rouses me from my sweaty dream. The alarm clock radio was on full blast and playing some heavy hard thrash music. This isn’t what I want to wake up to but neither is the state of my bed and worst of all, my PJs.

This is the fourth night in a row that I’ve had the same dream. A moment of absolute triumph is destroyed to become a distressing nightmare. This is also the fourth time I have messed my bed and the commotion of my noisy alarm clock and my sudden yelp of realisation as to what has happened had brought mum into my room. There is no getting away from the evidence; the mess, the smell and my guilty face are all she needs to know that it has happened again. She screws up her nose and says quite calmly “That’s it.”

I instantly know what she means. She isn’t going to put up with my ‘problem’ anymore and she already told me, after the first incident, that I should sleep with protection to save my embarrassment and her having to wash and clean up after me. She isn’t a terrible woman, but at 18 I should be able to control my body. My two younger brothers have no trouble getting up in the night and only my little baby sister Maria (a very late arrival to the family) needs help with her toilet requirements. Mum has already indicated that, to spare my blushes she wasn’t going to tell anyone else about my problem but, and there are no buts to her argument, I will be wearing a nappy and plastic pants to bed for the foreseeable future. It’s what my baby sister needs and that is exactly how I will be treated. She did add that if I can go an entire month without wetting or messing then she’ll rethink my extra night time ‘equipment’. Meanwhile, she put in a call to her colleagues at the hospital where she worked (that was before the arrival of the baby) and got her plans underway.

As the eldest son I have my own room, which I have made clear to my younger brothers they do not enter (on pain of some unspoken evil) without my express permission but I did notice that they both caught a whiff of my bodily secretions and may already have guessed what had happened. I didn’t get chance to disagree with my mum especially when dad told me that I was lucky that was all that was required of me. His stern expression emphasising that arguing would not only be pointless but might make for a more severe punishment (although mum didn’t see it as a punishment, merely sensible protection). My dad wasn’t convinced that I couldn’t do anything to stop what was happening and thought I was just being an uppity, slovenly teenager. He had very little time for his eldest son, who in his opinion, seemed to have regressed to a little baby and he had enough responsibility with his (unexpected) youngest child to cope with.


The school year was almost over, exams taken and lessons more or less abandoned as we lazily went through the actions of those final days. I had no idea why my dream should cause me so much anxiety; I liked football but it wasn’t going to be my career. I’d breezed through the exams and assumed I’d done pretty well but, with the holidays looming, I still hadn’t found a part time job to see me through summer and my eventual results. What was more embarrassing was that my two younger brothers both had jobs. Gary, who is 12, has a paper round and Steve, who is 15, works with his mate on his father’s fruit and veg stall in the market over the weekend. Dad has refused to finance, what he sees as my lazy attitude to work, so I have no money. He thinks I could have found something, anything, if I’d tried but to him this is all part of my lethargic and disinterested way I live my life, always depending on others. This bout of bed wetting is just further proof of my ‘indolence’ of ‘can’t be bothered even getting up and going to the bathroom’ and his anger with me is on the cusp. I feel that if I argue, complain or in any way annoy him he’ll just explode and it will be worse for me.




I had planned a first holiday with my girlfriend Kate to start the week after the school year finished. We thought we’d take a break before she had to start work whilst waiting for our results and eventually university.  We’d planned on going to the same one, although taking different courses, and hoped we’d be able to get accommodation together. I hoped many things for my future but one of the main things that I yearned for was to be able to get into Kate’s knickers once we were away from home and living together. We’d been doing everything except that last real bit of sex and the frustration was driving me mad but, she said, she wasn’t going to lose her virginity just because I wanted her to, she could be quite controlling in that way. Mind you, in my current ‘situation’ I wasn’t keen on sleeping with her just in case I made a mess – I’m sure that would be the kiss of death to any relationship. Now I couldn’t afford to go, even camping would have been too expensive and, my dad would have seen it once again that I was running away from my responsibilities.

It’s not that the family is poor. Dad has a well-paid job and up until the baby, mum was pretty well paid in her exec capacity at the hospital. However, Dad’s ethos has always been ‘you get nothing for nothing’ so, although I sought my escape in the prospect of university, I really was relying on my family to support me up until I went away. It wasn’t that I hadn’t tried to get work, well, I had tried but there were few opportunities around and I guess I was just too picky, thinking I was better than what was on offer. Mum had arranged for a part-time job at the hospital but I really didn’t want to be carting bodies around the wards with all those ill people – uuurggh! Mum was OK with my decision, saying it wasn’t a job for everybody but dad was furious and called me a little kid, scared of work and getting my hands dirty. The fact that I was now wetting the bed on a regular basis added nothing to his low opinion of me… and I suppose I could see his point.


Mum had got her supplies from the hospital and I was greeted with them when I went to bed that night. Grown-up disposables and plastic pants were laid out on my bed and mum insisted that I wear them as she was damned if she was going to be mopping up after me anymore. I’m fairly easy going and don’t like conflict, that’s why I rarely argue with mum or dad, but I could see her argument on this and, I have to say, as reluctant to take this step as I was I thought it was the easiest of solutions to my immediate problem. Mum said it was only until the problem disappeared, hopefully, as quickly as it had arrived. That night it felt strange wrapping myself in the thick disposable (mum had offered to help but I told her I could manage) and it took a few attempts at getting the tapes tight enough for the damn thing to stay up.  Eventually it appeared to be in place and I looked in the mirror and burst into fits of laughter – I looked a right picture. I even did a little dance I thought I looked so stupid… the whole thing was hilarious. I slipped on the plastic pants, a sort of thick creamy colour, over it all and to hide the bulge pulled on my PJ pants.

The bulkiness was something I thought I’d never get used to. When I was standing up and dancing around, it had all seemed so funny but now, as I tried to get to sleep, it felt hot and uncomfortable. The slickness of the plastic pants meant that my hand kept stroking the front of my bulge but I could hardly feel my cock through the thickness, this I found quite disconcerting.  The plastic had a texture of its own which, I surprisingly found stimulating and continued to play around with the silky mound until I fell asleep.

The dream was slightly different this time. Instead of being at Wembley I was on a camping holiday with Kate and it was she who was consoling as I wet myself. She pulled down my drenched pants and checked my soaked nappy and proceeded to start to change me in full view of the passing public (who on this occasion were a group of young hikers… all of whom were laughing at me). Kate was not putting up with my protests and insisted that I let her see to my needs or we were through, she wasn’t going to put up with a baby who didn’t want to be changed and that was that. I had no alternative but let her get on with it but the growing audience of a troop of scouts and an old folks walking group only added to my embarrassment.  I started to cry.


Part 2

I was still crying when I woke up and found myself absolutely saturated and the swollen nappy proof of the amount of liquid my body had expelled in the night. Thank god that it had all been absorbed and mercifully, the bed had remained dry. So whilst I had some slight satisfaction I was causing mum no extra washing, she had been proved correct in getting me to wear the appropriate protection. I was stunned at just how heavy a wet disposable felt and it was with some manoeuvring I managed to get to the bathroom, unfortunately, not without Gary clocking my waddle. He was so happy at seeing me in such a state that he was full of giggles and obviously couldn’t wait to tell the rest of the family. As I went down for breakfast everyone (except dad) was looking at me expectantly and my brothers could hardly contain their mirth. There was only one way out of this I had to say something first and own what had happened. Too late. Dad said that from now on I was to be treated like my baby sister and that, as far as he was concerned, I should be in nappies all the time like she was until I learned to use the ‘potty’.

I stormed out of the kitchen both angry and ashamed. How could dad be so… fuc… unthoughtful… and in front of my brothers? I was indignant at such unwarranted mockery until I realised that I was still carrying my disposable nappy which I’d meant to get rid of. It was difficult to feel unjustly chastised in such a situation and I skulked from the room with my tail between my legs. I sat on the edge of my bed and tried valiantly to stop the tears from rolling down my face but this, this was just too humiliating. I thought dad had over-stepped a line and I was desperate to get back at him but I soon recognised the fact I was powerless; the only thing that would save me was to get work, stop wetting and GROW UP.

Mum came in carrying Maria and tried to console me. Now she had two babies to contend with, one of us on each arm and it has to be said mum had a really nice way of making you feel better. She did concede that dad was being a bit hostile but pointed out he had his own problems to deal with. It had never occurred to me that dad his own trials and tribulations and my bedwetting was just something else he had to contend with. I’d hardly ever appreciated what exactly it was that dad contributed to the family and, probably like everyone else, had things to constantly overcome at the office. Mum put a few things in perspective and it’s safe to say had calmed me down quite a bit by the time she and a contentedly sleeping Maria left my room. I decided to go down stairs and apologise to dad but when I got there of course it was too late he had already left for work.

With dad at the office, my brothers at school and mum about to start on the washing (thankfully not as a result of my contribution this time), I was left to look after Maria. You’d think that having a baby around would be an annoyance for someone of my age but in truth I thought she was incredible. Of course I’d watched my younger brothers grow up, though being the eldest, things at times had been strained. However, I thought Maria was just the cutest thing. I loved being around her. Her wide eyes always searching, her wonderful giggles and gurgles as she tried to communicate, her absolutely fantastic smile and even when she cried it seemed more musical than demanding and I’d often arrive first to try and comfort her.

As mum carried on with the housework I had my amazing baby sister sitting on my knee. I bounced her up and down, which she loved, told her stories, counted her fingers and blew on her soft little tummy. She giggled of sorts and it suddenly struck me that her nappy and plastic pants were not too dissimilar to the ones I now had to wear at night. We even chatted about that; her gurgles, inquisitive looks, smiles and burps led us to the conclusion that we would both put up with it because - ‘it was for the best’. I told you she was an amazing girl. Being with Maria was an education and I couldn’t wait until she got slightly older and we could actually play with her toys, develop new games and have fun together but, for the moment anyway, I was happy to shake her rattle, read her nursery rhymes and be her eldest, adoring brother.


Since my ‘conversation’ with Maria I hadn’t minded wearing my protection to bed. In fact, it had saved me from the embarrassment of wet sheets and drying out a mattress as a daily occurrence. However, although mum got my supply of disposables from the hospital (on the quiet), that line of availability soon dried up (no pun intended). Mum only put Maria in disposables when we were going somewhere; otherwise, at home she used thick fabric squares folded to make nappies. As dad had refused to finance my dependence on disposables mum had requisitioned a few larger terry fabric squares from the hospital that had, in the past, been used for their incontinent patients. In a very matter of fact way mum came in one night and said that we no longer had any disposables left but this did not mean I was going to bed unprotected. She produced the huge square and showed me how to fold it and pin it into place. I cringed at the idea but she looked me in the eye and said that either I learn to do it correctly, or she or dad would do it for me. The threat of dad having anything to do with the operation meant that I buckled down to learning how to do it straight away. So, reluctantly, the switch was made. Mum had once again said that if I go a week without wetting then we’d review the situation but I wasn’t confident.

If I didn’t dream, I didn’t wet myself so maybe once or twice a week I was dry. However, when I did dream and the storyline or characters were different, it always ended with me being humiliated as I lost control. I’d often try to wake up as I felt the dream coming to its climax but, somehow, that attempt to wake up was incorporated into my struggle and I was left with the same result. I just could not rouse myself once those dreams started. The embarrassment of seeing my nappies and plastic pants hanging next to Maria’s drying on the clothesline in the garden was another degradation I had to endure. However, I was surprised at how quickly I became accustomed to the new nightly regime. So much so that I was quite relaxed about it once I was in my bedroom and choose not to use my PJs to hide the shame, the result was I often slept in just my nappy and plastic pants.  My PJ bottoms only held everything tightly in but they couldn’t disguise anything as the bulkiness was still obvious. The rest of the family knew so there was no use pretending. I don’t mean I paraded around the house dressed that way, jeez no, but in my room I felt less restricted and more comfortable wearing only the protection.

The plastic and rubber pants I alternated with had proved their worth by never allowing any leakage no matter how soaked I got. The fabric wasn’t as absorbent as the disposables but, as mum suggested, I should use two squares on a night. I did try this but the effect was to make me so huge I could barely walk and, as I was busy encouraging my baby sister to do just that, I thought it was a retrograde step. However, on a couple of occasions I did pair them up and on one of those occasions I was glad I had as I’d somehow ripped the plastic pants I was wearing (possibly because of the bulk). Thankfully the double diaper had soaked everything up and so prevented any spillage. Meanwhile, mum asked her friends at the hospital if they had a replacement pair but was told, in no uncertain terms, that the free supply of materials was now suspended. However, she was directed to another friend who worked for a pharmaceutical company that supplied incontinence clothing and she sent samples of their products. The night the package arrived I slept in a double nappy and a huge pair of clear thick plastic pants that gripped me tightly and held everything in place. In fact, the free samples included a few pairs of disposables and both plastic and rubber pants in various colours. They were extremely sturdy and very well-made and it was obvious that these pants weren’t going to accidently rip apart.

These rugged pieces of protection were just more things I had to get used to. For instance, since school finished I hardly ever saw Kate because she was working the break until university at her uncle and aunts care home looking after the elderly residents. She was so busy that when she did get home she was always so exhausted she never wanted to do anything. My mates had either gone on vacation or were working and for some reason I felt vulnerable moving too far away from home in case I started spontaneously wetting myself. There was no real sense as to why this might happen but my confidence was at an all-time low and my ‘problem’ was praying on my mind. In the end I think I became quite a help to mum looking after Maria as she was able to see friends and visit people without having to take the baby everywhere. Not that I’m making out she didn’t want to, it was just an option she now had as I was happy to be left in charge. It may seem silly but on more than one occasion I had changed into my nappy and plastic pants so I was dressed like Maria, and we’d crawl around the floor (well I crawled she just lay on my back) together exploring the world from her perspective. Babies smell wonderful; all the cuteness and powder, but add that to those wide eyes and gurgles… believe me… my sister’s smile would set me up for the day.

Maria was my friend. Baby or not, she was the only one in the family who wasn’t judging me. My brothers took every opportunity to ridicule me; one night they sprinkled talcum powder all over my bed so that my room would smell ‘just like a nursery’. My dad hardly spoke to me and mum, despite doing all she could for me, was at her wits end wondering when she’d get her eldest back to normal. It was only when I slept that I wet so I was fine during the day so I pretended I was OK with it all, and in many ways I’d simply come to accept what I couldn’t control… but it was difficult day to day dealing with my family. Thankfully, Maria proved to be my saviour as we’d spend a lot of time together and I found myself happy to be her age as we ‘talked and played’. However, and this was something I didn’t tell mum or anyone else for that matter, on some occasions, when there was just the two of us together,  I filled my nappy when she filled hers.  It wasn’t something I was aware of to begin with but soon, it had happened on far too many occasions for it not to be a bit spooky. I could tell by the way Maria acted and her facial expression when she used her nappy so I guess I must have just picked up on them and, well, I was already wearing my protection, I just gave in to the need. It was easy for me to change her but I began to wish that I had someone to change me. Unfortunately, I didn’t and walking around in a wet nappy soon lost its appeal so I had to do it myself. The washing line, flapping in the wind with our freshly laundered nappies and plastic pants, were a beacon to everyone that there was more than one bed-wetter at our house.


Part 3

Being around Maria made me appreciate just what the life of a baby was like and, perhaps strangely, I began to envy her world. I suppose you could say that it was my fault for immersing myself so deeply but having people loving, caring, feeding and changing you and being at the top of the list for everything , was a powerful position to be in, even if you couldn’t appreciate that power. In all household decisions it was forever; ‘What impact it would have on Maria?’ If she was sleeping: “Keep the noise down”. If she was sprawled out on the floor: “Watch your step”. If she was being a bit restless: “You’ll have to wait until she’s settled”. Even dad realised he was powerless against the needs of his young daughter.

Meanwhile, his eldest son wasn’t getting any better, in fact, if anything, I was getting worse. I was staying in my protection longer, using it as and when I wanted to go, though in truth, only on the odd occasion. However, I was no longer a slave to the toilet and the more I didn’t use it, the easier it got to let flow. It gave me a sort of thrill to know the wetness wasn’t so much comforting but an affirmation that I was a… a… I’d like to say ‘REBEL’ but I suspect it would more than likely be ‘BABY’. I was even sleeping with one of Maria’s stuffed toys (a panda named Pandy) and with her smell all over it, made me fall asleep very contentedly, if accident prone, each night.

One morning I was waking up from yet another awful and very soggy dream to find that Kate was standing at the side of my bed. The blankets had fallen away so she could see what I was wearing - so there were no excuses. As I came round, amid a smell of urine and baby powder, I could see her looking aghast at me. Once she saw my embarrassment she apologised but said that dad had told her to come up and wake me, otherwise I would have slept all day. Whether dad knew this would be embarrassing for me or not I don’t know but it was something I could have done without Kate knowing. I stammered something about having terrible nightmares that resulted in me wetting the bed as the reason I was wearing what I was wearing and she seemed happy with this explanation. I tried to cover myself up but she stopped me, told me not to be ashamed as ‘these things happen’ and rested her hand on my thick slippery plastic bulge. She smoothed her hand over the mound and said how cute I looked asleep, especially with the stuffed animal next to me. I think I might have turned several shades of red but she just smiled and continued with her soft stroking of my nappy and gentle stroking of my hair. It was as if she was both reassuring and making up her mind as to what to do next.


I couldn’t pretend that nothing had happened and although the thick clear plastic had kept everything in check, the discolouration on my nappy was proof that I needed a change.  When she suggested she could do it I froze. I didn’t know what to say or do as the sheer embarrassment of her even suggesting such a thing left me speechless. I knew that since she’d been working at the Care Home for many years (in fact since she was a little girl), she had received various certificates or diplomas (or something) to do with care and nursing but this suggestion seemed crazy. Would I be just like one of her old folk who needed help going to the toilet, or did she now see me as a vulnerable child who needed assistance with a fresh clean nappy?  She pulled me to my feet, and, still in a state of wonder (stupidly I thought we might kiss) she reached for the waistband and dragged everything down. Protesting was useless and though I’d wanted someone to change me in the past… it wasn’t by my girlfriend, that was just too weird. Meanwhile, there were various things I wanted to say like “NO” and “go away” and “I feel ashamed”  and “please don’t tell anyone” but I said nothing, just blushed and shut my eyes out of sheer discomfiture as she unpinned the fabric and pulled it away.

 I was left standing nervously by the side of my bed naked but with a great looking girl holding my soiled nappy. She quickly pushed me back down onto the bed and set about drying me with a nearby towel. Kate, always the no nonsense girl, appeared to know where everything was and soon I was powdered and had a new nappy pinned efficiently in place. I hadn’t told her I didn’t need to wear a nappy during the day but neither had I told her to stop. For all she knew it could have been just a night time thing for me but, she just assumed I required a fresh one, so that’s what I got. ‘No questions mean no arguments’ so, she was evidently used to just getting on with the job in hand. She continued the process by reaching into my wardrobe, found a pair of plastic pants, my shorts and a t-shirt so I was soon equipped and dressed for the day. Then she held out her hand, said that she had the day off, and we should go and do something. I didn’t quite take in all that had happened… or the conclusions that Kate had made on my behalf… but was suddenly worried about going outside wearing my bulky nappy under my shorts. She assured me that no one would notice and, more to the point, she found it quite ‘amusing’ that only she knew exactly what I was wearing.


As we left no one in the family commented on my appearance so I assumed she must have been correct. However, I could feel the bulk between my legs and, now I was out and about, the padding certainly made me walk a little differently. With each step, thanks to the plastic pants, there was a slight rustling sound. Still, I was well protected and just happy to be with my girlfriend who hadn’t seemed in the least bit bothered about her recent discovery.

Later, as we were sat on a park bench having a can of Coke she voiced her concerns.

“Joey.” Her eyes held mine with interest. “How long have you needed…er… protection?”

I was taken by surprise. The cola I was drinking nearly cascaded down my nose as she’d given no indication that she was leading up to this question. In fact, there had been no run up to it at all, I  thought she’d decided it wasn’t an issue so hadn’t prepared an answer. I wasn’t sure whether to lie or tell her the truth, which was a little strange seeing as I hadn’t mentioned my ‘problem’ before. However, I was a terrible liar and now my ‘secret’ was out decided on the truth.

 “As we started our finals.” She nodded. “I began having a recurring, embarrassing nightmare about… er… mmm… soiling myself in front of a stadium full of people… and… errr… when I woke up… I’d done just that.”

“Do you know why that particular dream?” I shook my head and looked to the ground.

For a brief moment she looked as if she had something to say to me, something important, something… but then the moment passed and the concern and reassuring smile returned so I carried on.

We were sat side by side and, as I spoke about my recent wet history, she was stroking the front of my shorts. The bulge was very apparent to me and I could feel a little pressure from her manipulative fingers but in general, and perhaps surprisingly, my cock slept under the thick terry fabric. My story of wet mornings and soaked nappies didn’t excite me as much as it appeared to be exciting her. I stopped midway through my tale and looked down at what she was doing. She suddenly stopped.

“Do you mind me…” she smiled and gave a shrug of her shoulders, then ran her hand once more over the front of my shorts. “You looked really cute when I saw you this morning.” She smiled. “All innocent and at ease with… er… yourself.” Her hand slipped up the leg of my shorts and sneaked under the plastic to touch my padding. “I love the feel of your… protection… it’s so… slippery and feels ‘sexxxy’.”

How could I mind?  She was the one who dressed me, she knew exactly what was there and, despite the fact that she said (and emphasised the word) sexxxy, at that moment, I really was not that interested. It seemed strange that Kate was ‘putting out’ more than she’d ever done before. Typical. However, she kept fondling the front of my shorts. This was not something she would normally do and especially not in a public place but I saw a flush coming to her features and I could tell she was getting off on it. Then she got up, grabbed my hand and told me to take her home.


Back at her house she all but dragged me upstairs to her bedroom. There was nobody else at home so I guess we had the entire place to ourselves and Kate promised that we wouldn’t be disturbed. It looked like my desire to get into her knickers was about to happen but at that moment I wasn’t feeling particularly aroused, although it was plain as day that she was. There was absolutely no finesse once we were in her room. She yanked my t-shirt over my head and pulled down my shorts leaving me in just my plastic protection. She looked longingly at me and I felt vaguely embarrassed when she wouldn’t let me strip any further and was definitely in control of this situation. I wanted to speak but the look of desire on her face was something else and I thought I’d better just go along with it and see how far she was prepared to take this urgency.

So, there I was, laid out like a big baby on her bed as she quickly strips off all her clothes. Naked she snuggles up next to me, writhing her hips against my padding and breathing heavily. She pulled my face into her tits and asked me to lick them. I’ve enjoyed doing that in the past so I was up for the job. She wanted me to suck them and called me her “Sweet baby” as I did so.  This was something she’d never called me before. In fact, such terms of endearment were not part of her vocabulary but she appeared to like calling me her ‘baby’. Her hips were squirming with growing aggression against my nappy cover as I nibbled and sucked and I began to enjoy the heat - a Kate ‘on heat’ was producing. Thankfully, my cock was now responding to the situation and I could feel it pushing for release from behind its thick wadding. I was stiff, though it was painfully trapped between my legs. However, every time I slipped my hand down to try and relieve the stress, she pulled it back up to her breasts or forced it between her legs. There was no doubt about it… my nappy was staying on and she was getting off on it.

My fingers found her moist entry point and despite my own discomfort I at least tried to satisfy my girlfriend. A spasm ran through her body as I fed a couple of my digits into her warm interior and she let out a low growl that I’d never heard before. Her hips were bucking and I could feel from her deep thrusting that my fingers were working a little bit of magic. Her breathing was getting louder and she pulled away from my submissive probing, slid her leg over me and straddled my bulky protection. My cock was still painfully caught up in my nappy but she eased herself on top and continued to ride along the slippery plastic mound. She slipped and slid and writhed around, moaning and groaning with sheer pleasure as her orgasm grew. With her aggressive sliding about on the thick plastic she had made a stiff ridge which, together with my compliant fingers, she was really enjoying.

“Ooohhhh yeahhhh baby... My sweet little… mmmm… baby.”

Unfortunately, her sweaty thighs, slippery motion and sexy squeals were doing nothing for me. Indeed, I was really quite painfully contained as she whooped, jostled and let out a shriek as she peaked. Streaked with the residue of her love-making (I could hardly call it our love-making) my slippery protection was even greasier as she slowly bucked to her conclusion and let out a huge sigh of relief. Her actions slowed as she came down from the high she’d just given herself and kissed me softly on my lips. “Who’s the sweetest lil baby?

Slowly she dismounted me and slid to my side hugging and kissing me. It was something that she obviously needed but I was more than a little confused as to what my part in the operation had been. She kissed my naked chest and settled down to rest and soon she was dozing and I was left with a cock that for all I knew could be broken.  I fumbled in my nappy - my cock had returned to its normal flaccid size and, as I rearranged myself, the poor thing felt a bit bruised. I wasn’t sure if I was frustrated, angry or what. I turned to face Kate who was slumbering like an innocent angel and looked at her fantastic naked body. Under normal circumstances I would have been as hard as nails at just the thought never mind the real thing but, wrapped in my protection, my dick didn’t even throb and I settled down for a snooze wrapped in her loving embrace. This was a mistake.


Part 4

I slipped into a dream where I was playing in a crib with loads of other little kids but we were all having our nappies checked. I was trying to hide because, although all the other kids were babies,  I was 18 but still wearing a nappy and didn’t want the embarrassment of someone slipping their hand down the back to see if I’d wet. I was managing to evade everyone but at the last moment a huge pair of hands reached in and picked me up. I could feel fingers prying open my nappy to check but there was a commotion… some kind of alarm going off…

I awoke to see Kate disappear to answer her ringing telephone. I nervously looked down and saw that I was still wearing my protection and it didn’t feel that I had wet at all. A pleasing sense of relief filled me at not messing in front of Kate. I could hear her speaking in the other room and from her tone I gathered there was some kind of crisis.  As I swept my legs off the bed and stood on the floor I suddenly got the urge to pee. Unfortunately, it wasn’t just an urge as my piss streamed unrestricted into my nappy. I couldn’t stop the flow and was embarrassed in case Kate returned and saw what had happened. I grabbed for my shorts and, in the panic to hide my shame, my arms, legs and mind couldn’t get coordinated; my legs were conspiring against me as I tried to get two down one hole. Meanwhile, the flood was spreading around my nappy. Unfortunately, the warmth was no comfort and as my anxiety increased I realised I had pulled them up the wrong way round. The swelling nappy wasn’t making it any easier for the shorts to cover up my ballooning plastic pants. There was no doubt about it - I was rattled; the thought of being discovered by my sexy girlfriend and her realising, once and for all, that I was nothing more than an incontinent little baby, was just too much to contemplate at that moment.

I managed to slip into my t-shirt just as she returned and, looking very business-like (for someone who was partially naked) told me she had to go into work… an emergency had occurred at the care home. She seemed relieved that I was dressed to go and told me I had to leave immediately as her uncle was coming in a few minutes to pick her up.  I was relieved that she was too distracted getting herself ready and hadn’t noticed my panic. She did look sexy wearing just her bra and panties and, to add insult to injury, there was a brief stirring behind the wet folds of my nappy. She told me that when she saw me next she had something to tell me but, at that moment, she simply didn’t have the time. With a kiss and a pat on my padded bottom I was out the door before I realised I would have to walk home as I had no money for bus fares.


It was four miles from Kate’s house to my own. Thankfully the weather was pleasant so I wasn’t overly worried about the journey. After a while the damp nappy began to feel a little uncomfortable and the irritation was like the inside of my thighs were burning. Not only that but my stomach started rumbling and I was getting shooting pains in my bum. I knew this didn’t bode well and that I’d have to find a toilet pretty quickly otherwise there’d be more than pee filling my nappy. What could have been the happiest day of my life - the day when Kate and I eventually had proper sex - was rapidly deteriorating. The stomach cramps and pain in my bowel were making me walk very awkwardly and desperation was growing. I passed a small park and hoped against hope that there would be a public toilet there.

I passed through a little archway and there was a rather rundown public convenience right at the entrance. Relief coursed through my body as I strode purposefully toward the battered sign that pointed the way to the Gents. The place had been bricked up. Anger,  resentment and shouting abuse at no one in particular would have to wait as another strong spasm coursed through my body and I knew some kind of bottom explosion was about to happen. I looked around desperate to find somewhere and was thankful to see a small area that was covered in thick bushes. There was little alternative as I managed to manoeuvre myself into the middle of this little wooded grove, quickly unpin my nappy and squat down. The power (and the length of time) for the subsequent gush would have meant a complete disaster for my nappy, plastic pants and shorts had it happened a few seconds earlier than it actually did. I would not have been able to contain all of it and the walk home would have been impossible without everyone knowing what had happened.

It only took a few seconds but the pain disappeared and I was soon able to reassess the situation and continue my journey.  I had nothing to wipe my bottom with so, without looking to see what mess I’d made of the surrounding ‘idyllic’ little spot, I pulled up my nappy and pinned it back into place. It was then I heard a rustling sound nearby so I nervously reached down to pull up my plastic pants when I heard a man say.

“Mmmm, I love to see a boy in a diaper,” I froze in fear. “Honey, if you need any help changing, just give me a call.”

It was a middle-aged man who was smiling and admiring me at the same time. If I hadn’t been so embarrassed I might have said something but I was just too ashamed of what had just happened, I wanted to put as much distance between me and the incident as possible. The man unapologetically continued staring as I retrieved my plastic pants, snapped them into place and pulled up my shorts. He was still smiling encouragingly as I made a hurried exit.

“Don’t forget… whenever you need help with your diaper…” He shouted after me, “I’d love to be your daddy.”

I suddenly thought I should have said to the stupid man ‘it’s a nappy not a diaper’ but the moment had passed and I was far too scared to mutter anything.  I shivered at such a weird encounter as I tried to rearrange my nappy, which had bunched up in my desire to escape as quickly as possible.  However, once I had made the correct adjustments to my protection, and with the lack of stomach cramps, I had a reasonably happy gait as I continued on my trek home.

Although I was aware of my thick nappy I wasn’t bothered if anyone else knew or not, as it was, I never heard any one commenting on my padded walk, so I suppose Kate had been correct about that. Unfortunately, about a mile from home, and without any warning whatsoever, what I thought was a fart was in fact the remnants of my shitty burst and the liquid, unannounced, just gushed into my already rank nappy. It was a strange feeling, which caused me to suddenly pull up in mid-walk and the people who were travelling nearby had to take evasive measures so as not to bump into me. That action produced a lot of negative comment but I was only interested in whether my protection would hold. Perhaps oddly enough, none of the comments were about the thick and obvious protection, which I was sure, was even more apparent now it was full.

I stepped to the side, half expecting to see a stream of liquid shit stream down my leg but it appeared that it was contained. Never had I been more grateful to mum making me wear a nappy and Kate dressing me in them that morning than I was just then. I am sure that if I had only been wearing my boxers or briefs, then the entire world and its dog would have witnessed my total humiliation. It may have held but my attempt at walking normally was proving unsuccessful and I ended up with a sort of bowlegged waddle the rest of the way.


Once home I headed for the bathroom. I was glad to see there was no one else around so I didn’t have to share this particular disaster with anyone. I took off my t-shirt and shorts, which were still in fairly good condition but climbed into the shower still wearing my protection. I was worried just what state my nappy would be in when I eventually took the damn thing off.  I let the warm jets revive me a bit first before I ventured to drop the plastic pants and unpin my foul nappy. As the spray revived me I began to think about my day and try to make sense of it all. It had all been very strange. When I thought that my protection had prevented me from having sex with Kate for the first time… yet it had also prevented me from becoming a smelly, walking shit covered disaster.  I wondered what the weird man in the park had meant by wanting to be my ‘daddy’ and even more disturbing, what Kate needed to talk to me about.

I pulled off the plastic pants, which I believed had done their job magnificently, the thick, almost industrial strength material keeping me safe. Meanwhile, the nappy was in a revolting condition and I thought I’d better pre-wash it in the shower before I put it in the laundry. I dropped the nappy in the washing machine, hit the boil setting and hoped that I could wash away any evidence of the day. Back in my room I was suddenly in a quandary; do I wear my usual briefs or should I put myself back in some protection? If I put on my protection, which I was beginning to view as my natural underwear, no doubt this would only confirm what dad thought of me as a big baby. So, on assessment, I thought I’d keep my nappy wearing until I went to bed. However, when I wasn’t wearing my protection I began to miss it. In fact, without it I began to feel quite vulnerable, it had saved me once and I might need it to do so again. My head was arguing with itself; appear grown-up or feel safe?


Part 5

As I slipped on a pair of boxers another huge worry began to engulf me; why had I messed myself when I was wide awake? I could just about come to terms that I had no control over what happened when I slept but this latest horror I was completely aware of yet I still hadn’t any control. I stood hesitating in my boxers wondering if I’d made the correct choice. Perhaps I should wear some kind of protection… these boxers would hold nothing if I had another accident. If I wore briefs it would be the same affect (unless I wore multi-layers) so my head spun and my stomach churned as I wrestled with this internal quandary.

The answer became obvious because in the end I shucked down my boxers and replaced them with one of the free disposables that came from the pharmaceutical company. Once that was taped into place and a pair of their thick pink plastic pants pulled over it, all my worries seemed to disappear. I was comfortable and I was happy simply because I realised that I was now equipped for anything, no matter what. I checked myself out in the mirror and I saw relief in my features where only moments before I looked troubled. I would have been content to spend the rest of the day wearing just that but the family would be returning home soon and I didn’t want to have to fend off any questions.

Jeans, trackie-bottoms, pj pants and most of my shorts were too tight to hide this pronounced package. It was thicker than the fabric I had been wearing and I had trouble hiding that fact under my pants. Eventually I found a couple of pairs of shorts that hung loose enough to cope with this bulk and, coupled with an overly large t-shirt, I was almost able to disguise exactly what I was wearing. I wasn’t sure if it would fool anyone but at least, as far as dad would be concerned, I wasn’t flaunting my “nappy-needing ways”.


I emptied the washing machine and went into the sunlit garden to hang my stuff out. Thankfully the wash had done its job and left my soiled nappy looking clean and bright. Mum had obviously done some washing earlier so I pinned my extra couple of items out next to Maria’s drying nappies and my huge terry nappies. I hadn’t realised how many I had used but my colourful plastic and rubber pants were wafting in the breeze next to my brothers’ underwear and a pang of guilt pierced my gut. For a moment I worried that I was about to fill my nappy again but it passed and I resigned to being the ‘odd’ one in the family.

Back in the house I found myself picking up some of Maria’s toys and stuff to put away, however, I ended up sat on the floor playing with them. The rubber dinosaur she would just chew on I now had stomping through the jungle in search of… yes I could see it… Teddy Kong (a version of King Kong). As they faced off; the dinosaur roaring its defiance and Teddy Kong huge and all conquering they lunged and battle commenced. It was epic. The undefeated Teddy Kong had met his ferocious match as the two fought…

And that’s how dad discovered me, sprawled out on my belly, playing with my baby sister’s toys, making noises and thoroughly engrossed in the spectacle I had created. I’m sure he clocked my huge padded bum but I didn’t know how long he’d been watching, although my guilty look when I noticed him must have told him something. His look of derision that his 18 year-old son was now acting like a toddler just completed his already low opinion of me.

“Don’t let me spoil your… fun.” He said with unrestrained anger. “It’s what I’d expect from a two year-old.”

My distress was complete as I suddenly realised I was wetting myself. I was hoping against hope that he didn’t recognise just what else was happening other than my games but his steady stare made me very uncomfortable.

“You are just one bloody big embarrassment…” he spat out as I nervously tried to hide away mentally if I couldn’t physically. “On your way to university and playing with baby toys and wearing…” he was so angry he was obviously holding back some torrent of abuse. “For crying out loud… sort yourself out… or clear out altogether. I don’t see why the rest of the family should be put out by your… your… uselessness.”

I knew dad was fuming and I daren’t look up at him as I could feel my body suddenly shudder with emotion. Tears flooded down my face and my attempts to say that I was sorry and it wasn’t my fault just came out as a childish whine. I wasn’t helping myself, hugging Teddy Kong and filling my nappy and in that moment I felt like I was a two year-old.

Through breathless tears I tried to say sorry again. “I’m sorry daddy (daddy?) I don’t know why this is happening to me.” I gulped in air. “I wish I did…” I let Teddy fall to the floor, “and I’m scared it’s getting worse.”

I saw the look of compassion and confusion on dad’s face. He’d never seen me like this and I think it shocked him.

“Dad, I really don’t know what’s happening to me. I can’t control it. Do you really think that I want to be dressed like this?”

Dad took the few steps towards me and I cowered thinking he was going to hit me or something but instead he put his hand on my shoulder. “No son… I don’t.” He hugged me for the first time in years. “I shouldn’t take out my own anxieties on you… I’m sorry. I realise you are having to contend with something you don’t understand but,” without realising the irony of his actions and words he innocently patted my padded bum, “we’ll get to the bottom of it all.”

I could have stayed holding on to dad forever. It was a moment of affection that for some reason he’d withheld from everyone except Maria for so long I wondered if he was having worries at work. When I’d composed myself enough I asked him and he said “No” but I caught a slight falter in his voice.

“Don’t worry yourself about anything Joe, we’ll sort this out and get you back to normal and off to University before you know it.” He was being encouraging and positive, two more things that I hadn’t heard from him for quite some time.


This may sound strange but, hugging dad like that and him hugging me back and offering soothing words made me wish I was a toddler again. It used to be fantastic when I was the only child, both mum and dad made a huge fuss of me and I was constantly getting hugs, tickles and cuddles and that one hug made me realise just what I’d been missing. It was difficult letting dad go but I thought I’d better act grown up and wiped away the tears and thanked him for being so understanding.

I went back up to my room, not least because I knew I’d wet myself, although I wasn’t feeling particularly soaked. The new disposable had absorbed everything and, although it was much larger now, it had kept me feeling dry. I would have changed but there seemed little point and I wanted to know just how much this new nappy would absorb before needing to be replaced. There was little doubt that I was wearing something under my plastic pants and the pink surround had tightened considerably under the strain but still held everything firmly. Once again I looked at myself in the mirror and had to admit that dressed this way made me happy – so much for me asking dad if he thought I wanted to be in a nappy – apparently I did.

Soon, everyone was home; mum back with Maria and Gary and Steve had returned from school. They had taken to patting my bum every time they realised I was padded and spoke baby talk in mockery of my situation.  However, dad put a stop to that by having a go at them and telling them they were too old to act like little kids, and, if they continued ribbing me, for something I couldn’t help, they would be put back into nappies to see how they liked it. They were shocked at dad’s defence and quite taken aback by the consequences of any continued ‘fun’. Even mum wondered where this alignment between dad and me came from but I think she was pleased that he had at least come round to accepting my situation for what it was.  The evening meal was eaten in almost silence but when mum asked me what Kate and I did I nearly choked on my mouthful of peas.

Spluttering I told her that we’d just been for a walk through the park and eventually I’d walked her home as she got a call… an emergency… and she had to go into work… so I only saw her for a short while. Mum thought that was a shame seeing as she’d arrived so early for us to go out together but then agreed, Kate being Kate, she’s a career girl and work was more important than fun. I couldn’t disagree and was pleased when the conversation turned to Steve’s up-coming game for the school football team.

Now, I love my brothers, despite their enjoyment of mocking my current situation but I suddenly began to wonder what they would both look like if dad had carried through his threat and made them wear nappies. There would be no point in me mocking them, as I supposed I’d still be wearing my own but I thought how wonderful it would have been to see them wondering around the house dressed no differently from Maria or myself. I wondered if they would still be the cocky kids they were or if just that simple covering would change the way they reacted. I was happy being a toddler, I was happy being a toddler and playing with Maria but I doubted if either of these two toughies would enjoy being little kids again? I could be wrong of course but I spent the night happily remembering when they were toddlers themselves and the scrapes and trouble they got into then. My head was full of us all as toddlers playing together and enjoying one and others company and I fell asleep with mental images of us zooming around in our nappies not caring about anyone or anything other than having fun.



This was the first time that my brothers had become part of my dream and, despite it being more than a little weird, in my dream it wasn’t so… it was natural. Gary and Steve, like me, were the ages we were but dressed in just our nappies and all behaving and speaking like toddlers. We were the size we are now yet we were taking our orders for games to play from Maria. Not that she could speak. Oh no. She was sitting in her pushchair, sucking on her dummy but yet, we understood perfectly what she wanted us to do. She was definitely in charge and she had all three of her brothers doing her bidding. The thick fabric nappies we were all wearing could be seen through our clear heavy plastic pants and every now and then, a pair of mysterious hands would appear, slip down the front and check if we were still dry or not. We were all enjoying our roles and I couldn’t remember us having this much fun… ever. It was brilliant to see my brothers crawling around the floor, padded bottoms clearly on display, as they fought battles, went on adventures, played with stuffed animals, sucked on our dummies or drank formula from baby bottles. It was all very exciting and intense but at some point we were told to nap so, exhausted, we curled up together on the floor. A blue fleecy blanket appeared from somewhere and we snuggled together to sleep. However, as if on cue we all took this opportunity to wet ourselves and an audible, contented sigh could be heard.


When I woke up, I had soaked myself yet again. Yet because of the dream where we were all in it together, I wasn’t that bothered about wetting my nappy since, in my head I reasoned, my brothers had done so as well. For a few seconds I felt liberated that it just wasn’t me, until the dampness spread and I realised that in fact it had been just that, a dream. I was disappointed. However, the dream had convinced me that my brothers should also be wearing nappies as they looked pretty good in them. I wondered how I could get dad to carry out his threat but I knew that was all in my head… it was I who was happy as a toddler not them… although it had been nice to have playmates who were dressed just like me.

Meanwhile, all that aside, I got a call from Kate who said she needed to speak with me on an urgent matter, she thought she knew why I was behaving in the way I was.


Part 6

When the phone had rung it was mum who answered and, as I was still in bed, called me down to speak to Kate. I hadn’t had time to change out of my sodden nappy, and in truth I was still admiring the bulk of the thing. It was the disposable from the day before and I was pretty impressed by the amount of fluid it could soak up and yet I didn’t feel wet. Of course it had inflated to a huge size so, with the bulk and the weight, it took me a couple of minutes to waddle down the stairs. Mum was seeing to Maria in the kitchen so didn’t seen the condition I was in and it struck me as funny,  there I was, standing in the hallway, chatting to my super-sexy girlfriend, wearing this enormously bloated nappy.

I was still on a high thinking about my brothers wearing nappies so it took me a while to appreciate what Kate was saying. She asked me if I remembered a group of us going out a few days before our exams started. I told her she must be mistaken as I didn’t remember going out at all before the exams as we were all cramming like mad. She tried to jog my memory saying that her and me,  Victoria and Adam had thought our heads would explode if we didn’t take a break so we’d gone into the city, with the idea of getting pissed up, but had ended up going to a show. This all seemed stupid to me as I didn’t remember any of it and began to convince myself that she must have gone with someone else. Then I began to wonder if she’d got me mixed up with another boy and that she must be cheating on me. As she spoke I was getting angrier and angrier, believing she was just a stupid cheating bitch but then she got angry at my attitude and said if I didn’t believe her to call Adam and ask him.

I was losing my temper and for some reason, wetting myself at the same time. I could even feel tears coming to my eyes as I thought how betrayed and how unfair it was… I’d never cheat on her. In the end she’d had enough of my childish whining and told me to call Adam or Victoria to see she was telling the truth. I put the phone down and for the first time in a long time I experienced the soft trickle of my pee dribble down the inside of my leg. I suppose the disposable could only hold so much liquid. Oddly enough this really upset me and, grabbing a towel that was drying on the radiator, I mopped it up before shuffling back upstairs, crying my eyes out, feeling betrayed… and to change.


The size of the nappy that had held me enthralled for so long now got cast aside as I entered the shower. I was angry and hurt but thought I’d better sort it out before I started accusing Kate any more as she’d seemed appalled that I could have done so, especially as she was trying to help.

The hot soothing jets had done their job and I felt far more relaxed once I was out of the shower and drying myself down. Kate had seemed so adamant about this night out that I wondered why I couldn’t remember and wondered if I’d gotten too drunk, although drinking wasn’t something I really did. I’d been drunk a couple of times when I was younger and had hated the experience, so if I did have a drink, it was something I made sure was in moderation as I didn’t want to feel that way again.

Once dry I went to my wardrobe and took out another disposable and, without thinking put it on. I pulled a pair of bright blue rubber pants over them, then my shorts over that, before I realised what I’d done. Normally I would be wearing boxer shorts, so why I had quite unconsciously, and what appeared to be willingly, babied myself I don’t know. When it struck me what I’d done I was annoyed and about to change but, I stroked the front of my cushioned shorts, felt the comfort of the padding and those angry feelings were quickly replaced with those of happiness and contentment. There was no doubt about it a nappy had a huge soothing effect on my mood and even though it was an inconvenience, because of the restricted choice of clothes I now had, it was one that I somehow felt was acceptable.

I went downstairs and called Adam but I had to leave a message. It was the same for Victoria and then I remembered, every one of my friends had a job or was away so they weren’t as easily available as I was. Mum came out with Maria and asked me to keep an eye on her whilst she went and started with some baking. I took Maria but before mum went back to the kitchen asked her if she remembered me going out on the town before the exams.


“Yes,” she smiled, “you were convinced that if you didn’t get a break you’d die… or something…” I looked blankly at her. “Mind you,  I’m not sure whether you’d had a good night or not because you came home and went straight to bed,” she grinned at the memory, “but not before we’d all noticed that you’d peed your pants.”

“I’d done what?” I asked sceptically.

“You’d wet yourself.  You had this big pee stain down the front of your pants, which muggings here had to wash I might add.”

“I don’t remember any of that.”

So Kate had been telling the truth and I’d all but accused her of cheating on me, in fact, I might well have accused her of that. Ohh this was bad… this was very bad if I couldn’t even remember something like that…

“You never mentioned the night out…” mum was continuing with her side of the story, “we just thought you were too embarrassed because of how ‘drunk’ you’d been.” She emphasised the word but I knew she was referring to my wet pants.

Maria was goo-gooing in my ear so I went to sit down in front of the TV and try to weigh up this new evidence. I put on Cbeebies (the baby channel) and immediately colourful character lit up the screen and, in their little sing-song voices, began telling a tale. Maria was sitting on my knee and appeared entranced by what was on screen and strangely enough, my thoughts of this forgotten night out were suddenly superseded by my interest in this bunch of vivid creatures. Maria’s soft padded bottom was snuggly placed in my equally padded lap as we watched and ‘discussed’ each multi-coloured oddity. She looked and smiled and giggled the way only a baby a few months old can do… but I agreed with every word.


Time just flew by and mum came back to see her youngest and eldest asleep in front of the TV. Maria flopped on my chest and I was snuggled into the corner of the sofa, mum said we made a lovely picture. She took Maria and slid her finger under her nappy to check and said she was OK and in my semi-awake state wondered if she was going to check me next. However, she didn’t and I quickly got my wits back and went to phone Kate to apologise for doubting her account of the proceedings. When I got through she said she couldn’t chat there and then as there was still a crisis going on at the home but she’d come around in the evening and we could talk then. I was intrigued as to why I couldn’t remember anything about it but, as it meant nothing to me at that moment there seemed little reason to dwell on it.

The weather outside wasn’t very nice so I retrieved Maria from her playpen, got out some of her toys and I began to teach her what shapes fitted where and showed various word and pictures, which I repeated to her. She looked perplexed at me but I wanted my baby sister to be cleverer than any other baby her age and bless her heart, she humoured me and didn’t once cry out of boredom.  When she fell asleep once again I was so enthralled in one of her story books I carried on reading for my own enjoyment. Simple stories seemed about my level and, together with the pretty pictures and colourful creatures kept me busy until I’d finished all her books. I was even reading them out aloud and running my finger along each word as if trying to make sure I understood it correctly. This was not the behaviour of a University student, nor was the fact that unknown to me I had wet my disposable. The only reason I knew I had was that the bulge in my shorts was now so much bigger where the pee had been thoroughly soaked up. Another thing that was blatantly apparent was that I liked the feel of a full and thick nappy hanging between my legs although I wasn’t sure why this didn’t bother me.


Back in my room I marvelled at how glossy my blue rubber pants now looked as my nappy swelled underneath and stretched the material. These new items that we’d had sent from the pharmaceutical company really did have depths to their design; not only comfort but a sexy texture and alluring look. I assumed that whoever conceived these items wanted people to want to wear them and as well as feel good – look good.  I lay out on my bed thinking about how great it would be to be a kid again and be able to wear such stuff all the time and I must have drifted off.

Once again when I woke up Kate was standing at the side of my bed. In the back of my mind I’d heard a cough but it was her hand stroking my smooth bulge that eventually brought me round.

“Hello sleepyhead.” She continued to caress my sleek but filled pants. “You looked so innocent there I nearly didn’t wake you.”

I tried to raise myself up onto my elbows but she just sat down by my side and stroked the bulging fabric even more. I saw that look appear on her face again. That look that said she was horny and needed satisfying but I just hoped that she would straddle me there and then and get herself off when the house was full of people. I was desperate to get her mind on other things.

“Sorry about earlier,” she seemed distracted.

“What?” Her eyes were glued to my blue shiny bulge.

“Not remembering our night out. Mum reminded me but…” I hoped I could get her attention back, “I don’t remember anything about it. Did I get terribly drunk?”

She lay out on the bed by my side; she fully clothed and me in a swollen nappy and shiny rubber pants. She kicked off her shoes to get comfortable.

“No, you didn’t get drunk, none of us did but we went to see a show at the old Pizzazz… you know… the old Comedy Club?” She looked me in the eye to see if there was even a flicker of comprehension. “There was a hypnotist on and we volunteered… you, me, Adam and Victoria…”

Again nothing kicked in so I still had no idea what she was talking about. “You lot fell under his spell immediately but I was only playing along… in the end he noticed this and got me to sit down so he just used you three.”

All the while she was telling me her stroking was persistent and increasing in vigour. I tried to shuffle away but she just looked at me as if to say ‘don’t you dare move’ so I stayed put and let her continue her story and ministrations.

“You were hilarious but at one point he told you to act out that you’d just scored a goal for England, which you did. You seemed very proud and the audience were cheering you on.”

Oh. I suddenly realised where she might be going with this and I wanted to say something but she carried on.

“Then, at your moment of success he brought in an embarrassing incident… you peed your pants.”

The full horror struck me but she wasn’t finished. “He intimated that you were a baby and had messed your nappy. The audience was in hysterics and they were shouting out more things for him to suggest. They were a very cruel crowd but he went along with them getting you to do more and more outrageous stuff… but always as a baby. You and Adam were playing kids games and he even got you two humping one and other”

I was angry but still couldn’t remember any of this happening so I wondered why.

“I’m not sure but after the show, we were going to have a curry in town and you noticed that you had in fact wet yourself. This really annoyed you so you went back to the club to complain to him. We waited in the car for about half an hour but you didn’t return, so we checked the club but both you and the hypnotist had left.” She started nuzzling my naked chest. “So we don’t know what happened after.”

“Mum said I arrived home with a huge piss stain down the front of my trousers…”

“You were only a little damp when you left us…”

“I can’t remember anything. Perhaps that was something else he made me do… forget what had happened.”

“I’m not sure they can do that. Don’t they have some kind of code or something … like doctors and lawyers.”

“Perhaps he didn’t like me telling him off… if that’s what I intended on doing. Perhaps he planted something else in my head and forgetting the incident was just part of it.”

My head was all abuzz now and I was desperate to get to the bottom of it. However, as Kate slowly rubbed, kissed and stroked me I soon forgot what I was angry about and just became her plaything. She wanted to change me again and the moment she suggested it I unknowingly regressed to being a little boy. Even though it was a sudden change of direction from what we were talking about her new action seemed normal and justified.

Typically she appeared well organised, which was what I’d come to expect, and the story of the hypnotist held no more fascination for me as she whipped off my rubber pants and soggy nappy. She placed my thumb in my mouth and told me to suck as she set about drying, cleaning, powdering and fitting a clean fabric nappy. She then did something totally unexpected. She shimmied out of her knickers and put on my wet disposable and thick blue rubber pants. She had to tighten the tabs at the side and they looked enormous on her. So much so that her dress hardly hid what was now underneath but she placed her discarded knickers in her bag, put on her shoes and said she was in a rush to get home. She checked herself out in the mirror, flashed herself, giggled at her reflection, kissed me affectionately on the forehead and left my room. I was still sucking my thumb and reached for Pandy the Panda, hugged it tightly and lay their dry and comfortable but wondering if anyone would come and tell me a story.


 Part 7

I woke up with my face in a moist pool. At first I wondered what I’d been doing but as I slowly came round realised that my pillow was slick with drool. Still half asleep I tentatively ran my fingers over my nappy; first my bum, that seemed dry and then I sneaked my fingers between my mattress and crotch expecting the worst but finding that dry as well. This was the first time I’d woken up in such a state for quite some time and apart from the clammy pillow, was feeling extraordinarily ecstatic that all was well.

Once I’d opened my eyes I was greeted by the bright glassy black stare of Pandy whose look of surprised calm made me chuckle. I reached out and dragged him into a warm embrace and his soft fur on my naked skin sent a comfy and relaxed message to my brain. I was dry, I was content and I didn’t want to spoil the day but at the back of my mind I knew there was something that had to be done. However, right then and there I presumed it had something to do with lying in bed and playing to my favourite stuffed animal.

I wriggled in the luxury of my dry nappy; it was tight and I felt secure.  I heard mum shouting for me to get up but I was so snug I didn’t want to move I wanted to spend the day as I was… just so comfortable. Mum shouted that my breakfast was getting cold. Now, as the smell of bacon and eggs invaded my senses the desire to stay put was surmounted by the need for food. I slipped a t-shirt on, which only just reached below my hips, and wondered down to the kitchen wearing just that and my nappy. For some reason it didn’t even occur to me to hide my protection and the fact that it was so noticeable also didn’t register in my head. Both my brothers laughed and were about to say something but I suppose they remembered dad’s threats so kept quiet. It must have been murder for them not to have a go. However, Steve did pat my bum and under his breath say, “Has diddums wet himself again?” Mum raised her eyebrows when she noticed me but carried on serving breakfast, whilst Maria, sat in her highchair smiled and banged her spoon on her dish. I wanted to do that as well. Steve and Gary were loudly discussing some programme that I’d missed the night before, mum was feeding small amounts of some paste-like food to Maria, who wasn’t keen on it at all and with difficulty I cut up my breakfast into small, bite-sized pieces.


As all this went on around me my head was full of cartoons and nursery rhymes. I wasn’t interested in my brother’s grown-up talk, I wanted to get to the TV and see the programmes me and my sister had viewed the day before… I didn’t want to miss anything. I picked up my plate and wondered into the living room, turned on the TV and sat watching the cartoons while eating my breakfast with my fingers. Later, my brothers came in and switched it over to a sports programme so I screamed and stamped but I imagine, because I was only wearing a nappy, I didn’t look that threatening and they took no notice of me. I ran crying to mum but she didn’t know what to do, in fact, she wasn’t sure what I’d become. There I was her eldest son wearing only a nappy and crying that his younger brothers had flicked the TV to another channel… something was seriously wrong. I whined to mum that my brothers were naughty (naughty?) I was scared of them and I wanted to watch cartoons. Mum really did have enough on her plate with looking after Maria so she didn’t need me as well but there I was hugging her and trying desperately to hold back the tears. Ever since Kate had visited I’d retreated either to my room or to being the age of a child. Mum realised that wandering around in just a nappy was not the actions of an eighteen year-old, while bursting into tears when I didn’t get my own way was definitely not the behaviour of someone who was soon going off to University.

She called Kate.

Kate explained what she thought might have happened with the hypnotist but, as she wasn’t around when I went back to confront him about pissing my pants, she didn’t know exactly. Mum wanted to know who the hypnotist was and Kate had already found him online but he was away touring in Australia. Kate said that she’d been reading up on the subject and apparently, hypnotists can’t make people do anything they don’t want to do and, if I had been ‘put under’ I should have recovered from the suggestions by now. Mum wondered if another hypnotist might be able to help and Kate said she’d try and find one. Meanwhile, mum told her that since her visit the night before I was getting worse. She explained to her that I was now just sulking around the house, carrying a stuffed toy and wearing only a nappy. Kate was worried but, ever practical, advised mum to make sure I had some further protection and both thought I needed rubber pants to keep the furniture and bedding safe from any ‘accidents’ I might have. As I was playing with some of Maria’s toys in my room mum came in, pulled out the thickest pair of rubber pants I had and made me put them on. I screamed my resistance but mum was firm and, threatened with a spanking if I didn’t cooperate, soon had me well protected. She couldn’t fit any of my jeans or shorts over all the padding so left me to play dressed like that. I didn’t mind I was still comfy and dry but that wasn’t going to last for ever.


Dad came home at lunchtime armed with gifts. The ‘problem’ he’d been having at work for the past few months had now passed and he’d been able to secure a contract that would make the company financially solvent for the next five years. He was in a terrific mood and seemed keen to get back to being ‘good old dad’, the man with a smile and no worries. He’d brought flowers for mum, computer games for Gary and Steve, squeaky toys for Maria and a huge bag of disposables for me.  However, although he’d thought my gift might be useful he hadn’t known just how bad things had become. My greeting him with a  sloppy kiss and huge hug but wearing only a thick nappy and rubber pants was not what he expected. The fact that I was now happy playing with Maria and gurgling along with her as we tried to build stuff with colourful bricks shocked him until mum brought him up to date with Kate’s theory. My behaviour and regression at least now made some sense to him although he couldn’t understand how things had progressed this far or how quickly I’d slipped completely into being a small child again.

I had no idea the worry that was going on around me as I was crawling around the floor with Maria. Mum noticed a smell and checked her baby first; alas it wasn’t her so she reluctantly checked my nappy. I was a mess. Mum could have done without having to change me but I was no longer able to fend for myself so she would have to. However, dad was still holding the bag of disposables and said he’d deal with me. We went upstairs to the bathroom where dad made me stand and wait until he’d raided Maria’s supplies and gathered all the things he thought he’d need. I think dad was nervous, certainly more so than me as I wasn’t bothered at all as I hadn’t even noticed I’d messed myself. He tentatively pulled down my rubber pants and had me step out of them… then he slowly unpinned my nappy. It was hung low and obviously loaded but I just held onto Pandy while dad got on with what he had to do. Once that had dropped to the floor dad took me to the toilet and made me sit down and told me to see if I could finish the job. He was all smiles and encouragement but I had no idea what he wanted me to do. Eventually he guided me to the shower and cleaned me up.

Once that was done he dried me off and had laid out one of the new disposables. He got me to sit in the middle of it but then realised he needed to make sure I didn’t get a rash so before he replaced my nappy he grabbed a bottle of lotion and spread it around. I giggled as he spread the creamy stuff all over my privates and bottom. Dad was thorough as he then showered me with baby powder and rubbed that in. Once he was happy it was time for him to fit my new clean nappy which he did as he spoke to me like he must have done when I was a baby. He was all gentleness and not a bit like he’d been behaving the previous few months. I’m sure he was confused by my sudden decline but at least he now knew there was some kind of reason and he may well have felt bad about the way he’d treated me when it was all starting. The problem was, once I was completely dry and re-nappied I found I couldn’t walk at all. I could crawl but not speak it was like I’d gone back further into my childhood but now I was about the same age as Maria.


When Kate came around she couldn’t believe what she saw, wrapped in a huge nappy and plastic pants I was sat on the floor playing with Maria’s building bricks and having difficulty getting them to stay up. I stretched my arms out in greeting but in truth it could have been anyone and after she hugged me I quickly returned to play. They were all very concerned and they discussed what had happened. Kate explained the night out and just exactly what had happened with the hypnotist then dad asked her precisely what she’d done the night before. At first she was a bit evasive before she realised that he wasn’t asking about her taking my used nappy and plastic pants. She said that she had talked to me about what had happened but then saw that I was wet and, as she was used to doing it, just set about…er… changing me.  Ever the keen mind dad wondered if the changing might be of some significance; some action rather than word that had been planted in my mind. He said that I appeared to regress remarkably quickly when he’d just changed me and wondered if there was even further to go.

Kate said she’d found a hypnotherapist in town and had already called for a consultation but the earliest appointment she could get was the next afternoon. Meanwhile, as I played on the floor with Maria, they all talked about my condition and wondered what could be done. I had no such worries. I was happy in my abundant protection whilst playing with my sister and enjoying our games. Gary came in and made a comment about me in my nappy and dad really laid into him and told him that any further comment and it would be him wearing the protection alongside me. He tried to say to dad that he was only ‘joking’ but that wasn’t cutting it with him.

“Be warned,” Dad was at his firmest, “either you or your brother say anything, comment, or act out in any way… you’ll both be wearing nappies for the rest of the week.”

Gary slunk away muttering under his breath he’d like to see dad try… it just wouldn’t happen… it… He disappeared up to his room but mum had never seen dad so fired up as they continued to discuss my future.


Dad put in a call to the hypnotist’s manager and threatened to prosecute if he didn’t hear back from the man within the next two hours. Less than an hour later the hypnotist called from Australia where he was just about to go onstage. He was apparently shocked, though dad detected a bit of pride in the man’s voice, but I think dad’s insistence that the newspapers and the law might not be as generous in their opinion brought him back down to earth. The hypnotist explained that when I’d gone backstage I was being such a baby about wetting myself, which he claimed he didn’t suggest should happen, but found I was still suggestable so planted the idea that I might prefer to be a baby. However, he went on to say, that he couldn’t make me do anything that I didn’t want to do, that just wasn’t the way hypnotism worked.

Dad pressed him for more details and, whether he had planned it or not, asked how he could reverse what had happened. He suggested that I be put on the phone. Dad held it out for me but I had no idea what to do with it. Mum put it to my ear so I could hear what the hypnotist had to say but, I was more interested in the tower that Maria and I had built so wasn’t concentrating on what he had to say. Dad was getting frustrated with me and angrier with the hypnotist but asked him, as I wasn’t being very helpful, if another hypnotist could reverse what had happened. The man in Australia said he didn’t know though it was worth a try but, and he assured dad on this point, that anything he might have suggested or got me to do on stage should have worn off by now and that perhaps I wanted to regress. Dad was furious at this idea and, after he said he’d be hearing from his solicitor, slammed the phone down.

The following afternoon I was sitting in the hypnotherapist/psychologist office wearing a thick nappy plastic pants and a pair of shorts that hardly covered anything.  I was sucking my thumb and wondering where I was when Doctor Augustine Mercier looked a tiny bit shocked as I and dad and mum were ushered into her office. After they had explained as much as they knew she tried to get in a conversation with me but found that although I might have been looking at her, I really was not there at all. I wriggled off the seat and sat on the floor crawling around trying to examine all that I could. The doctor tried various attempts at communication but in the end had to give up as I was totally unresponsive to her questions. As mum and dad continued talking I curled up on the floor and dozed, it was at this point that the doctor tried to get me to respond and with some success.  


Apparently, my voice was like that of a very small child but at least the doctor could speak and led me deeper into my subconscious. What she found was both fascinating and scary. It wasn’t all the hypnotists fault. Evidently I did want to regress as I loved Maria and envied her position in the family and wanted to have the same love and affection that she was receiving. I was dreading going to university and living with my clever girlfriend… apparently I was even envious of her no-nonsense approach to life and her ability to act rather than think about stuff like I always did.

Now, this is not what I remember it’s what I’ve pieced together from what mum, dad and Kate told me happened at, and since, that time. According to mum, once I started speaking the revelations of my insecurities and inabilities to cope with just about anything had made me almost incapable of functioning in the real world and, according to the doctor, I had sought refuge where I thought I’d be safest. It was her opinion that the hypnotist 'just opened the door to my secret desires'. She came up with a lot of other psycho-babble that made sense to dad but nothing that made or makes any sense to me at all as I cannot remember ever having those feelings. I would say she must have been a charlatan except, here I am; not crawling around the floor, not sucking my thumb and not wetting myself but fully functioning and about to start university with Kate.

However, there’s been a little shift in our relationship because now Kate insists that when we live together we will both, when the urge takes us, wear nappies. She said that when I was padded she found my vulnerability such a turn on, whilst the feel of a thick nappy and plastic pants was more than a passing aphrodisiac. The time she took my wet nappy and wore it herself had been on a whim, but, as she continued to wear it for the rest of the day, she also found it quite arousing.

When she’d seen me first in my nappy and plastic pants she’d been shocked but soon found the entire look quite a stimulating. The shiny, slippery vinyl and the bulging nappy underneath presenting a spectacle that quickly grabbed her imagination… and she wanted to ‘experience’ it more. The sex in her bedroom had also surprised her. She hadn’t known just how sexualised all that padding had become in her mind or just how effective it was to tip her over the edge. She had no thought other than to get off and hadn’t realised how little involvement I’d had in the process. But that act had certainly planted a seed in her mind and nappies, plastic pants and the entire babifying thing had more than grabbed her interest.

In some ways, she said, she loved me being a dependent little boy and adored taking care of my needs but in return, she had needs of her own and, if I agreed, we could both get what we wanted.

She's one clever and intuitive person as well as practical because she said she could get plenty of supplies from the care home when needed.  Kate is a force to be reckoned with and me… well… it's a dream situation and anyway... how could a ‘lickle baby boy’ refuse?

***The End***


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