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Nappies for one... no, two.                                                                By Les Lea

About a month ago, my mate Paul told me that he has a fetish for wearing nappies. I didn’t believe him but, there in the pub, he undid the top of his jeans and gave me a glimpse of the ones he was wearing.  It was strange because I’ve known Paul nearly all my life and I thought I knew everything about him yet this revelation both repulsed and interested me.

I suppose it was the drink that made him confess but all I did was take the piss and mock him for it. Even though I could see my words were hurting, I just couldn’t seem to stop. In the end he said that it was twats like me and my attitude that made him want to wear them in the first place and stormed off.

A couple of days later, and after I’d thought about it and realised what he wore was absolutely nothing to do with me, I was intrigued so went round to his place to apologise. He met me at the door wearing a pair of brightly coloured pull-ups like I’d seen kids wear in advertisements for Pampers on TV.  Again I was shocked but still went in to do what I’d come to do… apologise.

I have to say being small, lithe and softly spoken, Paul looks cute at the best of times, but now, in just his kiddie-style nappy, he looked even cuter.  He told me, because I was his best mate, he’d felt able to tell me about the ‘little secret’ he’d kept for years and felt betrayed by my reaction. I apologised and told him that it was because I was in shock and didn’t understand or… he cut me dead.

“Do you know what?” he said, “Wearing these make me feel safe. I don’t know why but they provide me with comfort when the world around me goes mad or work gets too much.” I let him continue without interrupting.  “You and my nappies are… no, were… the only good things in my life that I could rely on. You’ve spoiled that.”

There was more. I just hadn’t appreciated just what stress a small guy, constantly being picked on and ridiculed over something he had no control over (his size) or the punch-bag he’d become as an outlet for others anger and stresses. For some reason he’d found himself the butt of every joke, every derogatory expression, every snide comment and all because he never fought back. He was a nice lad being abused by a world that thought mockery was the height of sophisticated banter. It wasn’t.

Now I felt really guilty so again I apologised and we talked some more.

“I’m really sorry Paul, you’re right, I should know better and that’s why I’m here. I can’t say I’m not a little bit suspicious, or if I’m truthful a little intrigued, by it all, but I know I reacted badly. I am really sorry.”

I think he saw that I meant it and a smile returned to his face. I hoped it was a sign I’d been forgiven.

He obviously felt no shame or need to cover up, he was still only wearing a t-shirt and a pair of colourful pull-ups, but I suppose, in his own house, he didn’t need to pretend. The thing was, I was, as I said, intrigued and thought my mate looked the part. I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or a put-down but I meant, well, it seemed right.

I think he noticed that my eyes were drawn to the silky bulge, and although I knew I was staring at his crotch, I couldn’t tear my eyes away. The juvenile image had made me smile and I have to admit I was thinking what fun it must be to be able to wear such a thing. I have no idea where that thought came from but I think that may be why he was smiling back at me, he knew I was engrossed in his special secret.

“I’ve worn this kind of ‘protection’ since I was a kid,” he confided. “But now I wear it because I feel safe and secure... like I did when mum and dad were around.” He shrugged knowing that would never happen as his parents were no longer with us. “It helps me cope with everything that piles up mentally and physically.”

He looked over at me sheepishly but I knew there was a hint of disappointment in that scrutiny.

“I trusted you with my secret and you...” he started.

“Yes, yes I know, I was a terrible friend but you’ve got to understand. You’ve got used to being you and like this for... I don’t know how long. You just exposed me to it and I didn’t know how to react. I was stunned and I’m sorry. I didn’t need to take the piss or make you feel as some kind of pervert but, well, sorry but I was surprised and...”  

He shrugged. “OK, I thought you of all people wouldn’t have had a problem with it. You, out of all the people I know were the one I thought I could rely on to understand. You know me better than just about anybody else...”

“But I didn’t know about... that.” I said pointing to his colourful crotch. “However, what, I’ve been here about ten minutes and I think I’ve spent about nine of those minutes being enthralled by the cheeky design and how snug they look.... so, yer, I think I do understand.”

“They are lovely to wear.” He said sweeping the palm of his hand of the slippery material.

“I’m sure they are but... what are they made out of and where on earth can you buy such stuff?”

“Well, they do have a nice plasticky texture, and work really well with a pair of vinyl pants but, if you know where to look you can find just about anything.” He smiled as if he was telling me something I should already be aware of. “There’s something for everyone if they care to look.”

“Well, they do look snug so I suppose...” I shrugged whilst he reached into a bag at the side of his chair.

Before I knew it I was agreeing to wear a disposable “Just to see for myself”, which I did because I didn’t want to lose Paul’s friendship and it seemed important to him.

Although strange, it was like I was being inducted into an exclusive club as I pulled off my pants and slipped into my first nappy since I was around three years old. To say I was nervous, and a little guilty, was an understatement. There was also a feeling that this was all so ridiculous and silly and just plain stupid. That was until I’d worn it for a few minutes.

Guess what. I see what he means. They are very comforting to wear, although I don’t think I’ll be showing mine off down the pub. I’ll keep that ‘little secret’ between Paul and me.


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