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Just My Story                                                                                      by Les Lea

I was bawling my eyes out.

Dad had just given me the worst spanking of my life for lying to him. It was my own fault because I had been seen breaking something but was still insisting it wasn’t me. Dad said he’d put up with many things from his children but he wouldn’t allow any of us to be a barefaced liar.

Dad had asked me outright if I’d done it and I said “No”.

 I was just about to go to bed so was only wearing my thin cotton shorty pyjamas when I saw that look come into his eyes. If I’d admitted it straight away I’m sure I would still have gotten a spanking but perhaps not quite as hard or for so long. My dad isn’t a big man but, as a ten year-old and not in the least bit sporty, I wasn’t equipped physically or emotionally to be hurt. This was the first time ever I’d been in any real trouble because normally my cuteness and sorrowful expression had in the past got me out of being disciplined.

It didn’t work this time and I hated it. My bottom throbbed and, although I was already on my way to bed, it seemed worse that I had to go clutching my red stinging bum. I cried all the way to my room, which I shared with my older brother David (I’m the youngest of three kids) thinking the world was grossly unfair, dad was cruel and I would definitely be running away to a nicer family come the morning.


My sister, Stephanie, is the eldest and five years older than me, who despite dad telling her not to, still came and tried to soothe my tears and make me feel better. It was a pretty hopeless task. Both her and my brother had witnessed my shame and blistered bottom so I was in no mood to be placated. However, she rubbed my back (I dare not lay on my back because it was so painful on my bottom) and settled my teddy bear in my arms, and even though I hadn’t had much to do with it for a couple of years, I hugged him with some force. She kept telling me Daddy loved me and that I shouldn’t think any less of him for what he’d just done. Unfortunately, I wasn’t seeing that side of the argument and only felt the agony of my bum, and possibly guilt, which set me off crying even more. I can’t explain how I was now absolutely terrified of my father. It had been the one and only time in my life I’d been disciplined and that made him, in my immature mind, a complete monster.

According to Steph, my sobbing eventually subsided and I fell asleep on my front clutching tightly to teddy. She said that once I’d calmed down I looked adorable snuggling up to him and wearing my little short pale green jammies. Later, both mum and dad came up to check on me and kiss me goodnight. I was dead to the world so I missed that bit of compassion and I didn’t hear David come to bed some time later. Normally we lie awake and chat for a while before dropping off. He’s four years older than me so he has quite a lot going on in his life and I like to hear about his footballing exploits and what he and his mates get up to.


The following morning David was the first to rise. He came over and shook me awake to get ready for school.  As I came round I was surprised that I was still clutching teddy, I was conscious of a slight soreness to my bottom but there was something else - I was drenched. My jammies, my sheets; everything was soaked and I didn’t know what or how it had happened. I think at the same moment, as he slid out of his own PJs he smelled the slight odour of pee. Once I realised my situation I started to cry. I was scared that I’d get another spanking, also I was embarrassed at doing something I hadn’t done since I was a toddler and thought I’d be ridiculed by everyone.

David called mum, who was already up and working in the kitchen, that I’d had an accident, which on hearing Steph came in to see what the problem was. She saw the state I was in and again tried to tell me not to worry, but I was worried. I’d been punished once for something I’d done that was wrong and now this! Steph led me to the bathroom and, while David was in the shower, she helped me out of my wet clothes. My brother popped his head around the side of the cubicle to see what was going on, he wasn’t gloating or anything, just seeing what was happening, but quickly finished so that I could be attended to. I was still sobbing when mum came in check what exactly my ‘accident’ had been.

“It looks like he’s had a bit of trouble,” Steph said somewhat understating things as I stood there naked and trying not to look so scared. “The beds soaked and…”

Mum came over and gave me a huge cuddle. “Don’t worry darling, these things happen.”

Dad had already gone to work so at least I didn’t have to face his opinion of his soaked youngest but I was anxious about him finding out.

“You won’t tell dad will you?” I nervously appealed to mum.

I was now shivering and mum shooed the others out of the bathroom and gave me a warm shower where I was soaped and shampooed, something that she hadn’t done for many years; probably because I was grown up and didn’t need anyone bathing or washing me. However, mum’s gentle care had calmed me down and, as she led me back to the bedroom, she told me again not to worry. I think she could still see the redness of my recently spanked rear and knew that I was more than a little apprehensive about getting the same again. She helped me into my school uniform of grey shirt and shorts and after breakfast gave me a huge kiss and cuddle to send me on my way.


Apparently, the bed was wetter than she’d imagined. The mattress was soaked and, even with a breeze and sunny weather she found it difficult to dry outside.

Our neighbours, the Woods, had three children: their eldest was eight year-old Kevin who had learning difficulties and his two younger sisters, five year-old Susan and Bethany who was four. Kevin and I had played together since he was born and his two younger sisters looked after him like he was a precious jewel. Come to think of it, all the Woods were very attentive to Kevin’s needs, as I suppose were the rest of the neighbourhood. Despite his problems Kevin was welcome everywhere…  we were a tight estate who watched out for one and other.

Mum was explaining to Mrs Woods about drying the mattress in the sun and my accident, our neighbour was most sympathetic. However, she’d had a similar wetting problem with Kevin so offered to let mum have a plastic sheet if she thought that might help. She now used a rubber one over Kevin’s mattress, so she had a spare if needed. As it was, the mattress wasn’t completely dry by the time I had to go to bed so she accepted the offer.

I was a bit surprised to hear the crinkling sound of the sheet as I climbed into bed and almost started a petulant strop until I saw dad standing in the doorway.

“It’s just until I can get the entire thing dry honey, so don’t worry, it’s only temporary.” Mum explained as she comforted my agitation.

Dad stepped over to me and I almost drew back in fear but he just ruffled my hair saying, “Don’t worry Champ, we’ll have this sorted by tomorrow,” then kissed me night-night.

It was strange being in a crinkly bed because every time I moved or turned over it was accompanied by such an annoying noise, which was a constant reminder of what I‘d done the night before. However, mum had got my thick flannel PJs for me to wear and that deadened some of the sound and I felt quite cosy. I even let teddy share the bed with me for the second night and I was confused that dad could spank me one day and then kiss me and call me his Champ the next. I was still thinking of this when I fell to sleep.


Again David was up first, rousing me from slumber and urging me to get ready for school. As I turned I heard the tell-tale crinkle and I was immediately reminded of why it was there. David said that all he could hear all night was me crinkling every time I turned; however, the noise hadn’t kept me awake. I pushed back my blanket and it was only then, as the cool air rushed in, that I realised I was once again soaked. David looked and shook his head and I lay there wondering what to do. At that moment mum came in with a freshly ironed shirt for David and caught the look I was exchanging with him.

“Er,” my brother started, “I think he’s had another little… er… accident…” his eyes raised in my direction.

Mum passed him his shirt and immediately came striding over to me and felt the front of my PJs -they were absolutely sodden. She helped me out of bed and checked to see if the plastic sheet had done its job.

“It’s a good job Kevin is such a good friend and loaned you his waterproof sheet,” mum said trying to make me smile, “otherwise we’d never get this mattress dry.”

I was desperately holding back tears. I couldn’t understand how I could have wet the bed twice in two days but mum seemed very understanding and after being sorted out in the bathroom left me to get myself ready for school. I decided on my green ‘HULK’ underpants as I thought they’d make me feel more grown up (like the hero himself) then, because I was running late, quickly slipped on my school uniform. I went to a different school to David and Steph but mum always made sure we looked smart before she’d let us go and get our bus. So, with a kiss and a hug she patted my healing bottom and sent me on my way.


Things got worse. After the fourth successive night of waking up soaked both my parents thought I needed a bit more assistance in coping with the problem. Thanks to Mrs Woods, who was able to offer some supplies to help, the situation was soon resolved.  So, on the fifth night mum took me upstairs to bed and I found something extra laid out for me to wear. She told me that her and dad had decided that wearing a nappy would save all the extra washing, keep the smell to a minimum (David had made a comment) and should keep me snug and well protected.

This was all too much and I screamed that I didn’t want to be babied, I wasn’t a baby, I shouldn’t be treated as a baby but as calming as mum’s words were I refused to let her put it on… that was until dad arrived. I suddenly realised that I was acting up and defying my parents and that would lead to trouble so I stopped having a tantrum but continued to sob.

“I know you don’t want to wear these,” he said as he held out the nappy, “and we’d prefer it if you didn’t have to.”

He sounded so reasonable. “But you are making quite a mess and it’s not fair on your mother who has to do all the cleaning up… now is it?”

Needless to say I was sobbing and although I knew he was right and I was just being selfish I didn’t want to wear it.

“You are not being punished, loads of kids your age have trouble getting to the toilet at night but…” and this is where he lifted my sulky chin and made me look at him, “you need some help until you are over it. I’m sure by the weekend you’ll be fine and we can all go back to the way things were.”

He was so nice, spoke quietly and seemed very positive. He made me feel I wasn’t being punished and it all seemed to make sense.  Besides that, I knew what could happen if I defied him so, I shrugged and nodded and let him get me dressed for bed.


It had been some years since I last wore a nappy but he seemed to be very efficient as he rubbed in some lotion, powdered my groin, folded the square of terry cloth, inserted a soak pad and pinned it into place with a couple of big baby pins. Lastly, he shuffled a pair of Kevin’s plastic pants up my legs to hold it in place. I felt totally humiliated. I hated the bulkiness, I hated the crinkly pants… and sheet, I hated dad for making me wear it… even if it did all make sense.

He fed my PJ top over my head and had a little game of pretending it wouldn’t fit, ‘Perhaps my head had recently swelled’, ‘Was it because I was getting brainier?’, he asked. I giggled as he pretended to struggle and when my head did eventually pop through the correct hole he was smiling as much as I was. Then he tried to pull up my PJ bottoms but there he did have a problem because the nappy was just too chunky for them to fit over.

“Oh well,” he said, “perhaps for tonight you could just sleep like this.” He looked down at my thick nappy. “It looks like it should keep you snug and dry all night.”

He patted the bulk and said that if I wasn’t careful I’d be starting a trend. “Everyone will want to wear something that soft and comfy”

He then said in a rather hoity-toity voice. “Eveningwear designed and modelled by the great haute-couture stylist himself… Monsieur Pantalons et Plastique.”

Dad could be funny when he wanted and, although I had no idea what he’d just said, we both sniggered at his silliness, which took the sting out of having to wear a nappy. Then he gave me a mock bow, kissed the top of my head and left me to drop off.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t very comfortable. I tried to sleep but I just couldn’t get used to having this huge thick thing between my legs. Because I was wriggling around so much, the plastic sheet and my plastic pants were making a noise, which also didn’t help. When David came to bed I told him of my predicament and that I wanted to just shrug them off and sleep naked. He wanted to see what I looked like so I shuffled down the blanket and nervously revealed my shame. He patted the padding and smiled saying that the thickness of my protection should keep any flood at bay. I was half expecting for him to mock me and call me a baby or something but, he just sort of gave a silent whistle and got himself ready for bed. However, as he slipped into his PJs, he warned me that mum and dad wouldn’t be too happy if I did take them off and then wet the bed again. I could see his point but I really wasn’t very comfortable.

Eventually, after our usual night time chat he dozed off but I was still wriggling around trying to get snug. His last words were ‘stop fidgeting’ so he could get some sleep. I lay there until certain he was snoozing then I carefully squirmed out of my tight and restricting nappy. Once that was off I felt a lot better and it wasn’t long before I joined David in the Land of Nod.


Part 2

I woke up in a sea of dampness. I’d really peed myself and my nappy lay on the floor at the side of the bed bone dry. Mum came in and saw what had happened and was quite angry at both the bed wetting and removal of my night time protection.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” She seemed irritated by the whole thing, “Look what has…” Exasperated she held up the untarnished garment. “Why did you take it off?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” I was nervous because I’d never seen mum look so annoyed but I was sure she’d understand. “It was irritating me so I…”

“So you thought we went to all that trouble to keep you and your bed dry for fun?”

“But mum… I… er… I couldn’t sleep… er… I…”

“Well that’s it young man. I have a good mind to let you sleep in these wet sheets and see if that changes your attitude.”

She was mad and I looked stupid standing in just my PJ top and my lower half naked. My bottom and willy feeling cold because they were still damp but mum ordered me to get ready for school.

When I returned my bed had been stripped and I could hear her setting the washing machine going. As I pulled on my uniform I looked at the plastic sheet covering the mattress, which still had a few streaks of liquid visible, and felt really guilty that I’d given mum more work to do. It was Friday and dad had said that my problems should be over by the weekend so I was hopeful that everything would get back to normal soon.


When I got home mum told me that Aunty Sally, her sister who was getting married the following weekend, had a problem. Cousin Tommy, who was eight years-old, blond, blue-eyed and cute as a button and who was going to be her page boy, was in hospital after an accident, so she needed a replacement. As I was roughly the same size as him mum had volunteered me as an alternative. She looked a bit apprehensive as she mentioned this but, as we were going as guests anyway I didn’t mind.

Aunty Sally was one of my favourite relatives so I thought it would be quite good helping her out. Mum seemed relieved and nervously smiled as she said that we’d have to go round for a fitting as the page boy had a uniform to wear. As I was still wearing my school uniform at the time I suspected it would be something similar and asked when we needed to go. She said we’d nip round after tea and added that aunty would be so pleased that I’d agreed to be part of the ceremony. A phone call later and I could hear the excited squeals from the other end of the phone as mum told her sister I was up for it.

I was quite looking forward to seeing aunty again. By next week she’d be Mrs Richard Black and I’d be there to help her take her vows, I wasn’t sure how,  I’d only been too one wedding before and although I was bored I thought it was quite spectacular… especially the reception afterwards.

At the door aunty greeted me with kisses and thank-yous, she was very excited about the prospect of her upcoming nuptials (as mum had called them) and I’d just made the whole thing come together as planned.  Mum watched as she tried on her flowing wedding dress and everyone was in tears, well I wasn’t but I could tell it meant a lot to all the women who were there. After which it was my turn and I followed Aunty Sally into her bedroom where she showed me what I’d be wearing.

I was stunned. It was a skirt. I was expecting a little suit or a top hat and tails like the groom and ushers were all going to be wearing… I didn’t want to be wearing a skirt. My enthusiasm drained from my body and a loud scream of “Noooo” escaped my mouth.

“Don’t you like it? Don’t you think a kilt looks so smart?”

I shook my head staring at the skirt she was holding up. No way was I going to wear such a thing, everyone would laugh at me… no I definitely wasn’t going to wear it.

Mum must have heard my cry of horror and came in to see what the problem was. Aunty Sally turned to her looking a bit crestfallen.

“He won’t wear it. He doesn’t like the kilt. I thought he’d look smart…” She implored mum.

“Yes he will look smart.”

I noticed the ‘will’ in there and started to scream that I would never wear a skirt in public and obstinately said nobody could make me.

Mum grabbed my hand and angrily pulled me to her. “You will wear this lovely kilt. You’ve already promised that you’d be your aunt’s page boy… and you’re not going to let her down.”

“But… but… but that was before I knew she wanted me to dress as a… a… girl.” I shrieked in dismay.

“It’s not a girl’s skirt. Men wear them all the time in Scotland. It looks very smart and you will look wonderful.”

I think mum thought that was the end of it but I just folded my arms and in a huff marched out of the bedroom and went to sit in the car.

A few minutes later mum came out looking very angry. I don’t know if anything else was said but my mind was made up… a definite “NO”.  I was sure she was going to smack me like dad had but instead didn’t say anything we just drove home in silence. When we got home it was getting late and she told me to get ready for bed. I was glad because the atmosphere was definitely very frosty but I was determined I wasn’t going to be a page boy anymore if it involved wearing a ‘skirt’.


Mum came up to supervise the nappy and this time she made no bones about it, if I shrugged it off then I’d get a spanking. I complained that it was too tight, too uncomfortable, too big but mum pinned me in (and added extra pads to soak up any extra pee) pulled up the plastic pants and said that she bet Kevin wasn’t half as much trouble.

That comment stuck in my mind and I wondered if people thought I was ‘like’ Kevin and had the same problems because he wore a nappy all the time. Once mum had left the room I tried to get comfortable but was really worried in case anyone actually thought I was the same as Kevin, and therefore also had learning difficulties.

I fell asleep but my dreams were about bigger boys yelling after me and Kevin as we played together. We were both wearing large nappies under our shorts but the ruffled tops at the waistband could be seen. The bigger boys were laughing and calling us, “stupid little babies”, and that made me cringe. Kevin easily ignored them but their chants and sneering were really winding me up; I felt humiliated and very childish. Even as they looked on I was trying to pull my nappy off, to prove I didn’t need one but it just wouldn’t budge. I was getting frustrated and annoyed when more people, grown-ups as well as older kids, showed up and started ridiculing our babyish ways. Not that we were doing anything babyish, we were just playing with our trucks, but they inferred it was something only toddlers would do. One of the boys said we both looked “…as dumb as each other, no wonder we were kept in nappies”, and that really hit home. Unfortunately, while struggling with the pins and various folds to release the nappy, I filled it, both front and back, which set the growing audience off mocking us more… and me in particular.


David was shaking me awake and saying I was having a bad dream. I had no idea of the hour but I was sure it wasn’t getting up time.

“Oh dear,” David looked at me with a mixture of sympathy and disbelief, “Have you crapped your pants?”

He sniffed the air and wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“No, I… I… er…” But I could sense that there was indeed something filling my nappy and it wasn’t just a touch of damp.

“I’ll get mum.”

“No,” I begged, “Please don’t, I’ll get into trouble if she finds out.”

I started to cry but David was more interested in getting me sorted out and the smell to go so he could get back to sleep.

Mum followed David to my bed and slowly pulled down the blanket I was clutching tightly to reveal the full disaster. Thankfully, the plastic pants had kept anything from leaking onto the bed but she could see that the pads and nappy had absorbed a great deal. She helped me out of bed and guided me to the bathroom. I don’t think it had ever taken me so long to walk those few yards. I waddled and felt the slimy stuff rubbing against my bottom and willy; it was awful. There were no words of sympathy from mum this time, she appeared not only half asleep but still pretty angry with me.

“Thank God for plastic pants,” she said as her firm fingers slowly rolled them down my legs.

Unpinning the nappy she held it in place so it didn’t slop everywhere but the smell was quite overpowering. I suppose mum had experienced worse when we were all babies but it was terrible. Eventually she had me cleaned up and I was surprised to see that there was a spare nappy ready. I had no idea she’d borrowed so many but this was a disposable. Mum, looked down at me spread out on the floor and slipped the disposable into place. Once she’d rubbed in some lotion and powdered the area she put another two soaker pads in and pulled it tightly up between my legs then taped it into place. The mess-saving plastic pants were next and then she guided me back to bed.

All the way through the procedure I was crying, apologising and crying some more but mum hardly said a word. Once in bed I was exhausted but mum left without any soothing words or even a kiss, which surprised me. David had already fallen back to sleep so, looking for some comfort I pulled teddy in with me, snuggled down and dropped off straight away.

It seemed only a few minutes later that the sun was up, David and Steph were arguing about who was going to use the bathroom first (Steph won), and I was feeling down the front of my nappy and thankful I was dry. I also think I’d slept better in the disposable than I ever would have done in the fabric nappy. When mum came in to check me out I was happy that I hadn’t wet again but she just nodded, which left me a bit deflated. I thought she’d be pleased but she just told me to hurry up and get ready.


I inched out of my dry disposable and lay it on my bed whilst I went and retrieved a pair of briefs from the draw. I slipped into them and then searched for the shorts and polo shirt I wanted to wear. Soon I was ready to join the others for breakfast but the disposable, wrapped in the plastic cover looked different somehow. I picked them up and they were still surprisingly warm, whilst the plastic felt really soft and supple and I wondered why I’d slept better in them than I had the terry nappy. However, I could smell breakfast so that question would have to be answered some other time, I was famished.

I was last to join the family at the table and mum had cooked her usual big Saturday morning fry-up. I loved bacon and eggs (and all the other stuff) it was my favourite meal that she made and I tucked in with sheer delight. I thought we might get through it without anyone commenting on my night time mishap but David said to Steph that she was lucky to have a room of her own after I’d stunk the place out last night. Steph had known nothing about my accident and so wanted to know more. Dad gave David one of his, ‘don’t you dare’ looks but he ignored it and told her all about it. He even added in fun that it brought back memories of when I was a baby wearing a stinky nappy, and as an aside to Steph he whispered that he thought those days were over.

I blushed from head to foot and wriggled uncomfortably in my chair. This time dad did say something and David immediately stopped his brotherly ribbing.

“That’s not fair David,” Dad said with severity, “Your brother is going through a difficult patch and he needs our support not our…”

“I’m not stupid like Kevin,” I interrupted and blurted out in both anger and defence.

Thinking of my dream and the humiliating chants from the boys I couldn’t hold in my rage.

“I’m not a big baby. I’m not stupid… I’m… I’m… I’m not KEVIN.” I screamed the last bit out and sulked in my chair.

The table went silent and everyone looked aghast at what I’d just said.


Part 3

It was a couple of seconds before anyone spoke and I could feel the waves of appalled silence covering me in shame. I knew immediately that I’d done wrong and it was father’s quiet but determined voice that broke through.

“Go to your room,” I could tell he was enraged but I just sat, unable to move and squirmed in my chair not daring to do anything.


That wasn’t a command I could ignore and I tore away from the table and scurried up to my bedroom. I sat on my bed holding the disposable and wishing my life was over when dad came in.

He came and sat down beside me and almost gently pulled me over his lap. This time my spanking was over my shorts but dad has a firm hand and it hurt; I was crying shortly after the first smack.


Once he finished and I was roaring buckets he stood me in front of him and made me listen to what he had to say. My bottom was stinging but he wouldn’t let me rub it as he held my arms down at my sides as he looked into my tear streaked face and told me how disappointed he was in my comment.

“Why would you say that about Kevin? He’s been you best friend since you were babies and you call him stupid.”

I desperately wanted to tell dad about my dream, hoping that would explain everything, but somehow I couldn’t get any words to form, possibly because I was trying to stop my uncontrollable sobbing.

“Son, I realise this is all very difficult for you but that is no excuse for your current behaviour.” His voice was calm, any anger had been transferred to my throbbing bottom.

“You promise your Aunt Sally that you’d be her page boy and then upset her by changing your mind… it’s her special day and you have spoiled it. She was so grateful when you agreed. Then you have a go at your best friend.”  He shook his head as if he couldn’t believe I’d been so hurtful to people I liked. 

Although my tears were slowly stopping another feeling suddenly became apparent, I was wetting myself and I couldn’t stop. Dad shook his head as he saw the wet patch spread across the front of my shorts and then the excess run in a rivulet down the inside of my thigh.

I was still in a state of shock and it didn’t register straight away but when it did I was sure I would be punished again.

“Sorry… sorry daddy,” I gulped in fear of his retribution, “s s s sorry”, I filled up, “I couldn’t help it daddy.”

There was a towel hanging over the end of the bed from my earlier shower so he grabbed that and started mopping up.

I didn’t know I had any left but the tears started all over again as I stood shamefully in front of my father. He hugged me. Not what I was expecting as I was sure I’d get another spanking. He hugged me until I was all out of tears.


Once I’d stopped he laid me out on the bed, pulled off my soaked shorts and briefs and wiped me completely with the last remaining dry area of the towel. Then he rubbed lotion and sprinkled powder all over before reaching for the discarded disposable which he knew was dry. I cowered as he re-fit it but I dare not say anything. Dad was watching me with concern but had other things he wanted to say as he pulled up the plastic pants.

“I never want to hear you say anything unpleasant about anyone, least of all Kevin, ever again. Do you understand?”

I was in no position to argue and I was feeling a bit ashamed. I nodded my agreement.

“Also, you are going to be Aunty Sally’s page boy next week,” I wriggled uncomfortably knowing I had no alternative. He smiled, “And you will look wonderful.”

I was now back in my night time protection and wondered how I was going to explain it when I went out to play. Dad rummaged around in another draw and found a pair of David’s much larger shorts that fitted over my nappy and hid most of the bulk. It would only be noticeable if I bent over and I had no intention of doing that.

“OK Champ, do we understand each other?”

I nodded.

“Good, then you go and call your Aunt Sally and tell her you’ve changed your mind and how much you are now looking forward to her wedding and being her special page boy.”

“Aww dad, do I have to… can’t you do it.” I whined but he just shrugged and said if I wanted to be taken for a man I should act like one.

So I called - aunty was excited and pleased I’d changed my mind and said how brilliant I’d look. I was sort of glad that I’d made her happy even though my bottom was still smarting and I was wearing a nappy. Mum was also delighted and hugged me, she patted my padded bum and only then realised what I was wearing. I don’t know if she knew I’d wet myself or if she thought it was some kind of punishment, but it felt pleasant that she was cuddling and stroking me the way she did. However, my breakfast had gone cold and been cleared away so I had to make do with a bowl of cereal.


Steph and David had gone out, dad was doing a bit of gardening and mum was washing up so I was at a loose end. I went next door and asked if Kevin could play out and we ended up enjoying ourselves in his back garden, oddly enough, pushing trucks around not unlike my dream. I’d always known Kevin wore a nappy but it had never been of interest to me, but now as we both scrambled around making truck noises and having fun, I noticed his padding and plastic pants and I’m sure he noticed mine because at one point he stroked my bottom and giggled. I could see up his shorts leg that he had a bright yellow pair of plastic pants with Disney characters all over them, holding his nappy in place. It occurred to me at that moment that I was actually wearing his nappies and plastic pants that mum had borrowed and for some reason this made me chuckle as we ‘vrooomed’ and ‘beeped’ around his  garden highway.

Kevin is a lovely friend. He’s always enthusiastic, always smiling, always the first to do something fun and silly that has everyone gleefully sharing his joke. Although he’s almost eighteen months younger than me we get on really well and as we played I realised what an awful person I was to call him stupid. I felt guilty and wanted to apologise but, there would be no point because he didn’t know what I’d said. I just hoped I could stay his friend forever.

Sue and Beth came to join us in the garden; both girls dressed like pretty toy dolls but that didn’t stop them because soon they were scrambling around the garden like me and their brother. They even brought reinforcements; a zoo of stuffed animals, dolls, dinosaurs and Kevin’s action figures. The trucks were transporting people to the far flung corners of the shrubbery, vegetable patch and dust bins - our empire was vast.

The weekend passed off without a great deal of activity except I went round to Aunty Sally’s to try on the kilt. Meanwhile, dad had found loads of photographs of men and boys in kilts and challenged me to find one that looked in the least bit girly… I couldn’t. They all looked brilliant and I felt a bit silly creating a crisis over something where there wasn’t one. 


Mum and dad insisted I wear night time protection and, as I’d wet myself on several occasions, I didn’t feel I could complain. I might go one night without wetting but was often soaked most mornings though, thanks to the plastic pants, I never leaked onto the bed. I’d also got used to wearing whatever mum or dad put me in, disposable or fabric, I didn’t dare complain again so just put up with it. If I was tired enough I dropped off without so much as a crinkle, which I’m sure pleased David.

On the Wednesday I was at school and reading my part of a story that was being passed around the class. I had read before so I wasn’t scared, although some other kids hated reading aloud but as I stood to start I got a strange feeling in my stomach. Almost at the same instant I felt the pee rush into my shorts and begin to trickle down my leg. I was horrified and my painful stomach reacted together with my bottom and I messed my shorts. The entire class gave a loud collective “Uuuurrgggh Phhheeewww ”, whilst the kids nearest to me darted for the doorway.

I stood in the nurses office crying. She’d helped me out of my messy shorts and briefs and was cleaning me up. Meanwhile, the headmistress had phoned mum to tell her what had happened and to come and collect me with some spare clothes. Once cleaned up I was wrapped in a towel to await the arrival of mum. As I waited the nurse decided I better wear some protection in case I had a further accident so she slipped me into a disposable nappy. I was not in any position to complain and in truth it felt better than sitting naked.

Mum arrived with some clothes and pretty soon I was being led away but first we had to meet with the head. She asked mum if this was a problem and had it happened before. I felt silly sitting there in my shorts but with a huge disposable clearly visible at the waistband and leg holes. Mum explained that for the past week or so, I’d been having wetting and the very occasional messy problem at night. The head listened to mother taking notes and suggested that maybe I should see someone and find out what was the cause. Mum agreed that they had been hoping it would just blow over but perhaps the head was correct, they needed to address the situation. However, the headmistress was also adamant about my future at the school. She said that when I returned I needed to be wearing protection and that I should bring some spare disposables or nappies that the nurse would keep, until everyone was certain that it wouldn’t happen again. Despite my sobbing and squirming about in my nappy, mum could do nothing but agree to the head’s terms.  


So Thursday and Friday saw me wearing protection to school. I didn’t want to go but both my parents insisted so I had no say in it. Of course all my class mates knew what had happened and indeed the entire school knew about it so it came as no surprise that I was ribbed constantly in the playground. The problem was, with the other kids picking on me I got even more nervous and filled my nappy more often. The nurse did her best to make sure the disposable wasn’t too noticeable but my shorts hardly hid anything and as everyone knew, I became the school’s ‘big baby’ that some of the girls found endearing and protective of, whilst others were pleased it wasn’t them.

My wetting got worse and I found that I didn’t really want to be a page boy at auntie’s wedding but dad wouldn’t let me back out again. So I found myself feeling very aware of the bulky, shiny nappy under my kilt. Mum had found some blue plastic pants that sort of matched the tartan kilt and hoped that would look better. However, all the little kids at the wedding seemed keen on looking up the page boy’s ‘skirt’. I was constantly holding my kilt down trying to prevent exploring, curious little hands from groping and pulling at me. Standing in the ceremony I couldn’t help but feel the tight bulkiness I was wearing and dreaded I might have an accident in the middle of them taking their vows and me handing them the ring. However, mum had made sure I was so firmly wrapped and protected nothing would have escaped that soft watertight prison. I was having a terrible time except when singled out by the groom for a special mention and thanks - I received a present for my ‘wonderful and esteemed services’. Even if the kids saw me as a joke all the grown-ups thought I looked terrific and everyone was taking photographs of me. No matter where I was people wanted me in their shot and I don’t think there was an adult there who at one time or another didn’t pat my bulky tartan bottom. It seemed that the kilt was much admired by most of the guests so I was feeling a little better about it once it was all over.


The doctor had no solution to my problem. He could find nothing physically wrong with me, didn’t think that the spanking had anything to do with my current state (just coincidence) but, if my parents wanted to, there was a child psychologist he would recommend.

Mum and dad were both doubtful about this and I’d sort of got used to wearing my protection all the time now. I didn’t particularly like it, but it had given me some confidence back as I no longer worried about being seen wetting myself; as mum had said earlier, ‘Thank God for plastic pants’ because they really did keep a lid on my damp problem.   

It was strange to see my nappies and Kevin’s blowing on the washing lines in our respective gardens. Our plastic pants adding a colourful note amongst the squares of white, whilst mum and Mrs Woods sat having a cup of tea and planned what their two wet little pups needed next.

My night and day wear were beginning to be much the same; thick absorbent padding and thick protecting plastic pants. Sometimes, if I wet myself whist playing over with Kevin, Mrs Wood would change me and I’d end up wearing a pair of his brightly coloured Disney plastic pants, which I have to say, I really liked.

In fact, I liked the whole thing. Mum and dad fussing over me, the comfort of a nappy, the friendship of Kevin, the support of the Woods as well as David and Steph and the fact that a pair of plastic pants would always keep me safe and secure.


Part 4

After nearly six weeks I stopped wetting myself as abruptly as I started. Mum made me wear a nappy at night but I kept waking up dry so she tentatively let me out of it. A couple of days without any kind of protection and I was back wearing normal underwear. I think it was a relief for everyone, especially my parents who saw it as justification for not sending me to see a shrink.

Perhaps weirdly after just a few days back wearing briefs I began to miss my nappy. It came to a head when I was playing with Kevin and I was getting very envious of his padding. At every opportunity I was peering up his shorts leg to catch a glimpse of his plastic protection. Soon we were play fighting which gave me the chance to feel his padding and rub the silky pants. We both giggled like school girls but I didn’t realise Mrs Woods was observing what was going on.

She knew that I’d stopped wetting the bed because mum had cheerfully returned all the spare nappies and disposables that she’d lent her.  Although mum was confident I’d not need them again Mrs Woods, unknown by me at the time, had insisted she keep everything “just to be on the safe side and in case of a repeat accident”. However, when she saw me and Kevin together and noticed my constant intrigue with his padding she put two and two together and got the correct answer.

As we boys were eating lunch in Kevin’s garden his mother asked if I was happy being back in briefs. I thought it was a strange question but I think the slight delay in my answer confirmed what she suspected.


Although I’d tried to be positive she saw that there was more going on and said that she’d seen my interest in her son’s padding. She said it wasn’t an accusation or criticism, and it was just between me and her, but she asked if I missed my nappy. I was shocked at her question but my uncomfortable wriggle and downcast eyes must have spoken volumes.

“OK,” she said looking straight into my eyes, “here’s a thought. Perhaps, when you are here playing with Kevin, you might like to wear the same as him?”

Although the idea was appealing I didn’t know how that could be accomplished without mum getting to know about it.

“It would be our,” she said spreading her hands to include Kevin, “little secret.”

I still wasn’t too sure.

“We can arrange play dates, sleep overs, all kinds of opportunities for you to be here… if that’s what you’d like. I’m sure your parents would be overjoyed about you spending more time with Kevin and I know he’d be delighted.”

I was in a dilemma. She knew what I wanted and offered me a solution, which, if I didn’t take would look like I didn’t want to spend more time with Kevin. However, if I did, I was scared mum and dad would eventually find out about my desire to wear nappies again and be disappointed… or worse.

Mrs Woods convinced me that wouldn’t be the case. Our secret would stay just that, but (and she seemed most adamant about this), I shouldn’t worry about liking to wear protection. She told me that there were lots of other boys around the world who liked them as well and I should do what I enjoyed.


I wasn’t too sure but she left the table and returned with a disposable and a pair of Kevin’s most colourful plastic pants. I put up no resistance as she pulled down my shorts and briefs and fitted me in them.  After checking that Kevin didn’t need changing she patted both our padded bottoms and sent us back out to play in the garden.

It was great to have that bulk back between my legs. There was a comforting feeling surrounding my groin whilst with every movement my entire body was reacting to the thrilling sensation. I don’t think the grin on my face could have got any wider as me and Kevin played and giggled throughout the entire afternoon.

Letting Mrs Woods put me in nappies became part of the game. She changed Kevin and me together so he knew I was wearing the same as he was, and he liked that idea. He’d tell me that we were brothers and, typical of his nature, would insist on sharing his toys with me. He really was fun to be with and, like the rest of his family, I loved being in his company so spent more and more time at the Woods’s home. When I stayed over, we’d both be running around his room dressed only in our protection (he had to wear them all the time anyway) and his little sister used to want to wear them as well if they came to play with us. Mr and Mrs Woods had a bunch of nappy clad kids running around and they seemed as happy about it as we kids.

Crawling in bed beside Kevin was also a treat. He wore thick protection all the time so, if I stayed over, I also wore something similar. We’d play-fight and giggle and make up silly stories and the feel of the plastic pants and bulky material made for a different sensation. Despite Kevin being the way he was, it never stopped him from being curious or experimental and his hands would regularly be all over (and occasionally inside) my nappy. He loved it when we rubbed up against each other, which often he’d instigate and I was more than happy to go along with. It was all wonderfully sensual without us having to think in those terms. We’d get quite excitable together and the giggling would stop as we earnestly brought ourselves to a gushing climax.

I’m sure his parents were well aware of what was going on because they saw the evidence of our sticky encounters whenever they changed us. I suppose they thought it was all part of growing up for Kevin and shouldn’t be made to feel guilty about something so natural. So, we boys experimented on a regular basis but I always let my best friend decide the pace and action. I have to say, Kevin taught me a great deal and although at times it felt quite intense, there was an underlying innocence. I’m not sure if I was deluding myself but, as I was doing it with my best mate, it was as if we were still toddlers just playing together and therefore unsurprisingly, there was no guilt attached to what we did.


My nappy loving ways began with an accidental bed-wetting but blossomed in to something more. I can’t explain it and I’m not sure I’d want to but I wear them quite often now. Not 24/7 but often and once I finish at University (I’m in my 3rd year as a medical student) I’m hoping the opportunity and my desire will stay with me forever.



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