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Mum                                                                                       by Les Lea

Today had been annoying. Usually, I’m happy at work but today, well, it was all so niggly and bity... things not happening when it should or people not doing what they should when they should. It was that type of day.

As manager of the team it is my responsibility to make it all work but I was at the mercy of others incompetence or lack of knowledge. Anyway, I got most of it sorted but it was all very frustrating and hectic. However, Friday night means a nice long weekend where I can relax, compose myself and spend a few hours totally absorbed in ME.

Even though it was after 9pm when I eventually got home the moment I walked through the door of my flat I had it planned. Strip, bath and lovely long soak before doing what I was going to do.

My new bedding had arrived a couple of days earlier but I’d been so busy I hadn’t had time to sort it out... so actually, that had to be my first job as that would lead nicely into the other bits of my planned weekend.

A week or so earlier, in a moment of juvenile and giddy excitement, I’d noticed the Matalan store was selling fleecy duvet covers in their sale. I’d actually seen a review of them and one comment was “... it’s like sleeping with a big teddy bear, all soft and welcoming. 5*s” so I was sold.

Anyway, I’d ordered a grey fitted bottom sheet and two matching pillowcases and a bright yellowy/mustardy coloured duvet cover with two matching pillowcases and when I’d fitted them to my bed... man it did indeed look welcoming.

I ran my hand over the fleecy softness and whoever wrote the review was spot on... it instantly reminded me of the teddy bear I had as a child. Loads of memories came flooding back and that’s just what I intended.


I ran the bath and stripped out of my work clothes, hung up the suit but put everything else in the laundry basket for tomorrow’s big wash. I inspected myself in the full-length mirror seeing if at twenty-four I’d started to deteriorate physically. I mean the job isn’t anything that should wear my body out, it’s fairly sedentary but I was the youngest manager in the company so had a lot of responsibility and the need to keep proving that I was the right person for the job.

When I was made manager there were quite a few doubts expressed by the Executive Directors about my ‘youth’. I needed to prove that I could cope, and not only cope, but excel at whatever they threw at me – thankfully, so far so good but that pressure was nonstop.

I looked at myself in profile, not bad. I’m five foot nine, short black hair, reasonably good-looking (but who’s to say?). So far, not getting chubby but that was down to the fact that I only ate once a day and more or less lived on protein shakes and vitamin drinks. Skin was tight on my body and in general everywhere was firm without being too muscular.

Before I took this job I played five-a-side footy a couple of times a week and squash at the weekends so I had a sporty side. Alas, work now occupied almost all of my time and, if I got a free weekend, I wanted to spend it winding down not getting exhausted. Even though I tried to deny it, I knew I’d got my priorities wrong. However, once on the corporate ladder, and at an early age, climbing down and finding other work that paid so well, would have been all but impossible. The hours were long but I was still proving myself to any doubters.

So, to mix metaphors, the greasy pole was there for me to climb and I’d embarked on getting to the top.

Anyway, I could hear the water still running so stopped this self-evaluation and made my way to the bathroom.

On weekdays I get a morning shower but on Friday night (when possible) I liked to indulge myself in a long hot (very hot) soak with bubbles and assorted scents. It may have smelled like a whore’s boudoir but it helped me relax and dissolve away the week’s complications.


I breathlessly slid under the foam as my body tried to get used to the heat. I think even a lobster would have complained and not just about the bubbles. Then I got the giggles thinking how heartless it would be to cook a lobster in a scented bath, trying to get it to relax before dipping its lovely meat in liquefied butter - mmm my mouth watered at the prospect.

Stupid head... but at least I wasn’t thinking of work but starting to have fun. I closed my eyes and let the heat permeate every inch of my body. The bubble bath made my skin silky and soft and after a slow but methodical sponge everywhere, I settled back down to let the soothing unguents do their work.

I keep my hair short and have a strange dislike for facial hair of any kind. This isn’t a new thing; ever since I started growing hair ‘down there’ I always thought it looked untidy so why on earth would anyone want a face that looked like your pubes? At school I was one of the last to sprout a pubic display but when it kicked in, it seemed to take over. A couple of years ago, as a treat to myself, I had electrolysis and it has more or less left me permanently smooth, which as it turns out, is ideal.

I raised my hips from the bath to watch the water part and the soft mound of dick and ball-sack rise through the suds. Not for the first time I thought what a lovely thing to have, the pleasure it can bring and the occasional demands it makes. I was looking forward to giving it something else it craved as soon as I dried myself off. For the moment though I intended to soak for as long as I could before the water became uncomfortably tepid.


Once out of the bath I dry myself slowly but thoroughly, getting into every crease and crevice, making sure there is no excess water anywhere. Then I get to the main event; the special soothing lotion that I spread gently but liberally around my groin.  It has a warming note, as well as a special blend of sandalwood, highly refined botanical lipids, almond oil and vanilla. It’s a luxury I can afford and is composed especially for me. My groin feels baby soft and luxurious, without hair it doesn’t clump or pool it spreads evenly... even my arsehole benefits from a good mollified fingering.

Once I let that soak in I sprinkle a little powder, a light talc because I just love that smell before I venture over to my dresser and take out the special, thick and colourful disposable that’s going to accompany me to bed tonight. Reverently I fluff the cute plastic backed material to give it chance of air to expand that little more. Cheeky cartoon animals are grinning at me and I’m grinning back, I simply cannot wait to have it snuggly wrapped around me and taped into place.

Now you may be wondering – Friday night, 24, good-looking and he’s taking a bath and putting on a nappy, what the hell is wrong with this guy?

Well, let me explain. I don’t care. You do what you like and I’ll do what I like and trying to pick up someone in a noisy bar, drinking with people I wouldn’t want anywhere near me and being social... not my scene at all. I like my own company and more so, like the comfort and fantasy I can indulge in when I wear a nice bit of padding.

As a kid mum always made sure that my padding was thick to avert any ‘preventable accidents’, which meant the bulge was substantial but, as that was how I was always wrapped when I wore a nappy, I just got on with it. Perhaps I should also tell you that I had potty issues until I was nearly eight years old. When I eventually managed to get to the toilet on time mum said that just to make sure, I still wore a nappy to bed every night until I was ten. Again, as it was something that she said I needed though I don’t remember wetting often during that time, I suppose it was necessary to have that safety net.

Anyway, now I live on my own I was able to indulge in something I’d missed for a while when I lived at home. Mum and dad are both loving parents but once I’d gotten out of wearing protection I never went back. We all seemed happy that part of my childhood was behind me and I moved on happily into my teenage years.

However, as I got older and started work I found myself craving the return to nappies and disposables. For a while this was something I tried to ignore. I couldn’t contemplate the reaction from my parents had I indulged myself so, when I eventually got a job and the raise that went with promotion, I found a little flat on the other side of town to my parents and began to slowly feed that need I’d been desperately trying to subdue.

Of course, after that first night I opened the bag of disposables and put one on, that was it. I was hooked so, over time, I’ve made it into something special. Something I only indulge in at most, once a week but when I do... YEEESSSSS!


The bath had thankfully completely relaxed me and the dreadful day was now suitably in the past and I could spoil myself properly. The soothing oil had soaked in nicely and the sweet scented talc wafted in my bedroom’s air giving the most satisfying of atmospheres. Subdued lighting made it so I could relax but still see what I was doing as now the fluffed out disposable had gained some volume I inserted a couple of bamboo soaker pads to fill it out even more.

At last I get to touch the pretty, colourful, childishly-emblazoned, yet erotically charged disposable my brain had been forming in my brain. It isn’t just the touch of course, but the entire sensual nature of the folds of fabric wrapped in a plastic coating and driving the sensuous nature of what I’m about to do. I wait a moment; savouring the luxurious physical way my body is anticipating that instant when expectancy is flooded by reality.

I slowly slip myself onto the soft buffer of fabric and ease myself into position. I’ve done this many, many times but the ethereal nature, the building excitement, the absolute pleasure comes when I fasten the two sticky tapes tightly on to the plastic surface and we become one.

That shiver, that mind-blowing phenomenal miracle that such a simple item my body and my super-euphoric brain has created immediately sends me into sexual meltdown.

It’s no good trying to hold back because this is the start of a night given over to complete and utter pleasure. A pleasure, I contend, is matched by very little... well for me anyway. My body pumps the effect directly into the waiting bamboo; I’ll need the extra padding because my intention is to pump all night until I cannot pump any more. That first release is so damn satisfying and I can feel it trickle around my cock, greasing it up for the next spurt of orgasmic sustenance.

I lay exhausted and slowly close my eyes imagining in my head what my next explosion will feature... except...


I wake up and it’s daylight. The sun is streaming in through my bedroom window and I’m laid on the top of my bed looking down at the large, but hardly used, bulky disposable I was so intent on demolishing with my... erm, um... what’s this?

A cup of coffee, with a gentle spiral of steam coming off it, is on my bedside table.

What the f***

# tbc #

Part 2

I knew the last week had been pretty intense, there was a lot of work to get through and, despite more than a few hiccups managed to keep to the target. I touched the cup, hot, so definitely not hallucinating. So I am in charge of my faculties... but what am I missing?

I know I haven’t arranged anything because, well, I don’t have that type of friendship or relationship with anyone. Besides, I wouldn’t invite anyone over dressed as I was. Yet, I can definitely hear movement in the kitchen, which I suddenly realise, has made my body run cold in trepidation. Whoever’s there has seen me wearing a nappy AND brought me coffee so... What the hell is going on?

I try to move but for some reason (terror) my body isn’t initially obeying any commands, perhaps it knows something I don’t. However, I can hear a noise and strain to try and distinguish the sound. I think that’s the washing machine. The palm of my hand is distractedly rubbing the plastic front of my disposable in a sort of nervous, comforting way, and the little figures who should have disappeared because of being soaked remain looking chipper... so I hadn’t even wet during the night. Now there are several things filling my head, none I wish to repeat, and close my eyes trying to shake away some thoughts and convince my body to move. When I open them again I’m met by...

“Morning love, just put your washing on... what do you fancy for breakfast? I see you’ve got eggs and bacon so...”


“Of course, who did you think it was... a burglar who does your washing and makes coffee?” She half giggled to herself.

“What on earth are you doing here?” I nearly said ‘uninvited’ but that’s no way to talk to your mother. I looked over at the clock and it was only just past 8am, “and at such an early hour?”

I suddenly remembered I was only wearing a disposable, cute though it was I tried to inconspicuously drag a sheet over to hide myself.

“Sweetheart, I’ve seen the nappy now so there’s no point in hiding it... it’s nothing new... you don’t need to feel strange about it.”

Strange? Yes, that’s exactly how this scene felt... bloody strange. My mother seemed completely unbothered by it, even outwardly to accept it as ‘normal’ but my head was spinning and I couldn’t form any words.

“What, ummm, why, errr, mmmm...”

“Your father and I had words last night and I told him until he apologises I’m not going home so...”

“You’re moving in here with me but, but, but...”

She nodded “I’ll get the bacon on... so maybe you want to shuffle into a pair of pants or something... although I don’t mind.” She looked back over her shoulder. “In fact, you look pretty adorable as you are.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck’ was blasting through my mind. A cold shiver of shame tingled in my veins and I knew I’d gone beet red. This was not the relaxed and pampered way I’d hoped my weekend would go.

I was left dumbfounded and needed something to get me going. I reached for the coffee and took a lovely long swig. Bloody hell, mum even makes a simple cup of coffee taste better than anything I can make.


OK, OK. I sat up in bed slowly sipping the coffee and trying to get my thoughts into some kind of order.

“C’mon Casper, think, think, THINK... how are you going to explain this, this, this...?”

Mum now knew about my fetish, my love of nappies, diapers, pull-ups, pampers, disposables... call them what you will, but she’d seen me in this... (mmm... running my hand over the slinky bulge sent another unexpected shiver down my spine). However, she’s not daft and able to put two and two together.

Then another thought struck me... just how long does she intend to stay? I mean, I’d love to be able to tell her to find somewhere else but I don’t have that uncaring relationship with mum.

And that’s another thing... what on earth did mum row with dad about to bring her here first thing Saturday morning?

So, as I sipped my coffee loads of stuff was going on in my head AND mum had seen my nappy, my secret, my pleasure, my... Oh God... what was she going to say when I sat down to eat what will no doubt be the best breakfast I’d had since I left home.

The smell of bacon grilling; making it all crispy just as I like it, fried eggs, toast... I rubbed my plasticky bulge (which always made me feel better) in anticipation of a lovely early morning meal. I’d better get up and face whatever was going to happen.

Actually, with mum saying to leave the nappy I thought, as I hadn’t used it to its full extent, I’d brave it out and simply slipped on a pair of boxer shorts that didn’t hide any of it particularly well. Besides, that smell of fried food had certainly got my juices flowing.


Of course when I’d got the flat I gave mum a key so I always knew there was a spare should I need one, I’d never expected her to use it to ingratiate herself in my company without first discussing it. Mum had not only brought a small wheelie-case but enough food to feed an army so breakfast also consisted of sausages, beans and mushrooms... it was the largest meal I’d had for about two years... in fact since I’d lived alone.

“Casper sweetheart, you look like you could do with a good breakfast, you’re getting very scrawny.” Was mum’s assessment of my protein drink and almost vegetarian diet.

She’d never been keen on fads and thought some people took these things too far and made themselves ill. She didn’t acknowledge that taking it the other way could also lead to problems but you try arguing with a mum who’s just produced the best meal (yes I certainly was going to tuck into it) that had ever been cooked in this flat.

We sat at my small two-seater table, typical of mum she’d simply made herself poached egg on toast whilst feeding me this ginormous pile of... fried wonderfulness.

“Eat it whilst it’s hot love... we can chat later.” She patted my bare leg and took in the fact I was still wearing that obvious nappy under the boxers. “We have some things to discuss.”

Now I felt on the back foot. It was as if I had to explain things to her when all I really wanted to know was how long she planned on staying and what the row with dad had been about. But that wheelie-case in my line of sight told me it hadn’t been a simple quarrel, this was serious.


I knew that when she said “chat later” she meant anything serious. So, we made small talk about work and neighbours as I downed what was, as expected, the best meal I’d had in ages.

“Have you made any new friends love?” She enquired over her poached egg.

“Not really had the time since I moved. I mean, I’ve been quite busy with work and, you know, sorting myself out.” I wondered if that sounded too vague or if she thought I was talking about wearing nappies on my day off. “Anyway, I think the entire block is young professionals from what I’ve garnered so far... all busy, busy.”

“Oh well, hopefully you’ll meet some of your neighbours soon.” The way she said it she wasn’t thinking I would.

The thing is I’m a very private person. I’m not one for socialising or needy enough to lay my life out on social media. I have absolutely no desire to put photographs of my breakfast on Instagram or comment on Twitter about some soap-star’s fall from grace.

I tried to immerse myself in eating the big breakfast and was actually thoroughly enjoying the taste of crispy bacon and a couple of huge pork sausages. Mum had gone all out and I was making the most of this incredible meal (it should be all over Instagram).

“I like to see my boy enjoying his food,” she said with motherly affection. “I’ll soon have you looking a bit more healthy.”

“Mum, I’m not unhealthy it’s just that...”

“You’re starving yourself and not eating properly... and that isn’t good for you.”

“Mum I’m not.” I said it with more force than I meant but was dipping a bit of sausage in the egg so I was slightly distracted. “The protein drinks and such are fine...”

“Well maybe you think so but you don’t look as well as when you left home.” Mum was finishing her toast.

We could have gone down this path for ages but instead I concentrated on finishing each morsel of food.

I was quite full by the end and the weight of it all made my bladder react and experienced a small spurt soak into my nappy.

“Well, thanks for that,” I said as I started to leave the table, “but I guess I’ll go and change and then we can have our talk.”

“Casper love, you don’t have to on my account.” Mum said dismissively. “You and nappies are nothing new.”

“What do you mean by that?” I said standing in the kitchen doorway desperate to finish peeing but also desperate to hear what she had to say. I held it in.

“Well love, you’ve always had a thing about nappies ever since you were small.” I shrugged as this was news to me. “You wanted to wear them even when you didn’t need them... right up until you were ten.”

“But, but it was you and dad who kept me in them, having to wear them night after night...”

“Oh, is that how you remember it?” Mum said and folded her arms. “OK, why would we?”

“Erm, I don’t know. I just thought...” Actually, I had never wondered why I’d just accepted it and now she was saying... what exactly was she saying?

“Go on, why would we... you must have some idea?” There was a touch of defiance to her voice that I’d never heard mum use before. A sort of challenge and I wondered if this is what they’d rowed about.

I had no idea ‘why’ at all.

“But why would I want to stay in them if I didn’t need them... and why did you let me?”

“Well sweetheart that’s the thing when you have kids. At some point, for a quiet life, you put up with their stupid demands rather than put up with a tantrum, the silent treatment, the moods, the downright uncalled for kiddie nastiness.”

She reeled them off as if remembering how things were.

I looked at mum in alarm, was she talking about me?

“Erm, but, umm,”

“You may not remember it that way but you wouldn’t go to bed unless you wore a nappy. You were scared of not only wetting the bed, even though you hadn’t done so for months, but also worried about some dream that scared you.”

“I don’t remember any of that.” It was my turn to be dismissive but now she’d reminded me I did sort of think she might be... no... really? I mean, I was only five or six when I had that dream.

“Well, sorry to bring the news but you really, really loved a nappy because you said it made you safe.”

“Then why did I stop?”

Mum came over and patted my bulging boxers, “It looks like you never did.”

I was crestfallen and worse still I could feel my full bladder, which I’d been desperate to hold in whilst we spoke, now filling the front of my disposable.

“There you go love...” and she patted the rapidly filling fabric as if she had no further point to prove.

I suppose she hadn’t.



Part 3

Whilst mum washed-up I went to the bathroom to clean myself up. What a disaster. If it wasn’t bad enough being discovered in flagrante delicto by wearing my fetish, mum had now witnessed me pissing in the thing as well. Of course when I wear one I do use it so that was normal except the circumstances weren’t and had become awkward. So now it was going to be difficult telling her to go back to dad – I lived in a one bedroom flat so where was she going to sleep.

“Are you all right in there?” Mum sounded concerned.

“Yes of course, why not?” I was a little irritable because I hadn’t sussed how I could get rid of her.

“Well, you’ve been in there ages... do you need some help with your nappy?”

She didn’t seem to be having a go just sounded like she normally did, caring.

I had no idea how long I’d been in the bathroom because time had very little meaning I was so wrapped up in what needed to be done. Unfortunately, my mind was turning things over in my head but producing no answers. There was nothing about this situation where I come out of it without some kind of guilt.

Guilty about wanting mum gone, guilty about wearing a nappy for sexual release, guilty about pissing myself in front of her, guilty, guilty, GUILTY!

I wasn’t even planning on wearing again whilst she was here but that’s not what I said. What I did say was, “Mum, I’m twenty-four, I think I can change my own nappy.” Of course, I could have bitten my tongue off as soon as the words were out of my mouth. Why would I admit to being able to do such a thing, never mind bragging that I’m old enough to do so? This was getting silly.

“Only asking sweetheart, it wouldn’t be the first time you had trouble wearing one of those things.”

I had no idea to what she was referring but I used disposables and they weren’t that tricky at all. I nearly shouted that out but thought better of it.

“I hope you’re using plenty of anti-rash cream and talc... it can get quite serious down there... you don’t want it to get inflamed love.” In my head I could see her waving a finger in the direction of my groin.

Mummm, stop fussing,” I said exasperated by the conversation but sounding like a kid.

However, mum was right, I had been in there ages so wrapped a towel around my midriff and sauntered out as if I owned the place, which I do... well... I rent so technically... you know what I mean.


The confidence I thought I entered my bedroom with was soon knocked as mum had her case open on the bed and was rooting around in my wardrobe finding a place to hang stuff up. She saw my stash of different styles of coloured disposables and was checking out several pairs of vinyl pants I’d recently invested in. So any excuse of me pretending this was a one-off disappeared.

“Well love, these are all very... playful.” She said picking up a blue disposable adorned in clouds and teddy bears and gently unravelled it. “Very cute... and cosy no doubt.”

She passed it to me as if she expected it was what I was going to wear.

“I don’t wear one all the time mum, please, stop, we need to talk...”

“We can talk dear but I think you should put something on,” she unfurled the disposable more and checked out the babyish design, “Mmmm, I think you’d be fine in this.”

“Mum,” I said stalking over to my chest of drawers and pulling out some underpants, “I don’t need a nappy...” I said shaking a pair of Calvin Klein briefs in her face.

“No one said you need one love... just that you’re probably going to be in a better mood if you’re wrapped in something you find comforting. Do you want me to put it on for you?”

She flapped it out in front of my face so the thing was enticing and in easy reach. Mum had got me; she knew that was just what I liked about a disposable so took it and returned to the bathroom to put it on. I definitely wasn’t going to accept mum’s offer.

As I carefully fastened the tapes tightly and smoothed it down around my genitals there was no doubt I loved the thick, glossy feel and I was actually getting hard. ‘Oh shit’ I couldn’t go out like this with mum there it would be too weird. This was supposed to be my enjoyment, instead, because of mum, I was wearing, though not appreciating, just how special my disposable was to me.

Although I was annoyed and pretending exasperation mum was one step ahead as I returned because she had a particularly childishly decorated pair of plastic pants she shoved in my direction.

“If you’re going to piss yourself sweetheart, you may find these will protect your furniture and clothes better.”

Not only that, she bent down and opened them up so that I could easily step into them.

Muummmm.” I didn’t want to but mum was organised so just went into ‘obedient son’ mode and did as indicated. She wriggled the soft slippery material up my thighs and then patted it down over my fresh and nicely padded nappy.

“There, comfy?” She enquired but grinned at the final look.

‘Don’t forget your manners’ had been a regular instruction from mum. Whenever anyone did anything for you it was only polite to thank that person.

“Thanks... mum.”


Although it was comforting to be wearing a nappy I was now completely off kilter, she however seemed completely composed. Mum had even rooted through my drawers and retrieved a plain white cotton t-shirt and passed that over, which I dutifully put on.

Once that little exercise was concluded we sat down on my bed but mum was instantly distracted.

“Oh love, this is a very nice duvet, all nice and soft,” she stroked the fleecy surface, “doesn’t it remind you of Bessie?”

Bessie was my old teddy bear but I was hardly going to admit that was the only reason I’d bought it.

Mmm I suppose it does.” I tried to pretend the thought had never occurred to me... and then our chat started.

Well mum started, I was still a little overawed by what had just taken place with, what appeared to be, minimal objection.

“Look sweetheart, I spoiled your weekend of, erm, fun and I’m sorry about that” she patted my shiny bulge, “and I don’t want to stop you doing whatever it is you like doing... but your father and I have had a bit of a disagreement so need some space to sort it out.”

“What on earth was said?” I wasn’t sure I wanted to know but I was sitting wearing a nappy and talking to mum as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Weird or what?

“I’m not going into that sweetheart because its mummy and daddy talk.” Again she patted my childish vinyl pants and smiled. I wasn’t sure if she was joking or not - mummy and daddy talk - for goodness sake.

“Suffice it to say, I need a bed for a little while until we can arrange things better and I’m sure you wouldn’t want to see me walking the streets.”

Now I know we aren’t the richest family in the world but I’m sure mum could have sprung for a hotel for a few days but then, I am her son, and I suppose, being an only child means I also have responsibilities. If I can cope with the demands of work I’m sure it will be no trouble dealing with mum, we do get along after all.

I could appear generous.

“Of course mum,” I said charitably, “I wouldn’t expect you to stay anywhere else but with me. I’m sure we can sort things out easily enough. I mean I’ll take the couch to sleep on and you...”

“No, no, no love,” she gripped my arm. “You’re a working lad and I’m small enough to fit on the couch without too much trouble so, no, you keep your bed... I’ll be able to cope.”

Well that was settled quickly but my flat has barely enough room for a single person so I wasn’t sure how this was going to work. However, mum has really good organising abilities so guess it’ll turn out okay.

Actually, mum is fast approaching her fiftieth and I wondered if that had anything to do with her quarrel with dad. He passed that age a good five years ago and it hit him for six. Apparently, if by fifty you’ve not achieved what you want you’ll never achieve it. I don’t know who came up with that load of nonsense but dad was really stuffed by it. Thankfully he didn’t rush out and buy a Harley-Davidson or red Porsche but did become more insular and less ‘fun’. Had we had an allotment I’m sure that’s where you’d find him engrossed in growing giant marrows... or some such pointless exercise.

I think mum resented that and now it’s her turn I guess that with all the other worries and women’s troubles (sorry but that’s the only way it’s ever been explained to me) she might be feeling old and unattractive... or something. Although to me mum hasn’t changed since I was a kid, she’s still as loving as ever. I have recent events, and a clean nappy, to prove my point.



Part 4

“Dad, dad, what the hell have you said to mum?” I was trying to sound angry and at the same time keeping my voice down so mum didn’t hear.

“Nothing.” Dad’s doleful voice answered at the other end of the telephone.

“You must have said something because.... she’s here... with a case... and... what did you say and whatever it was you need to apologise and then things can get back to normal?”

My voice had gone up an octave but still, I think I made myself clear.

“No, I don’t think so. She’ll come back when she’s good and ready.”

“Dad, that’s not going to happen because she says you need to apologise first.” I was almost pleading.

“Well that’s not going to happen. She thinks I can’t exist without her and, well, we’ll see. Meanwhile son, how are you?”

“Oh hell dad...”


“Are you talking to your father?” Mum confronted me looking guiltily at my phone.

“Ermmm, yessss, but only trying to...”

Mum wasn’t in the mood for explanations. “Well you needn’t bother because he knows what was said and that’s an end to it.”

She sat down on the sofa with an air of indignation about her. There was no way I was going to turn this situation to my advantage so sighed, put the phone back on the charger and asked if she fancied a trip into town.

“What, dressed like that?” She harrumphed.

I was standing there in my plastic coated nappy and t-shirt and I thought I’m not letting you lead the agenda so delivered what I thought was a clever answer. “Well you dressed me like this... so...” and smiled my biggest smile.

She shrugged her head and turned away as if she’d been wounded by my comment but of course mum isn’t that easily offended.

“Well, when you were two... and now twenty four... mmm... how times change.” The sarcasm was more than I bargained for.

Well that put me back in my little box.

“Actually, I could do with stretching my legs so yes, let’s go I’ll just get my bag and you can...”

“Put on some pants.” I interjected.

“Well that’s entirely up to you sweetheart... I’d hate to stop you doing anything that might spoil your weekend.”

“Too late” I thought but said nothing.


Mum had been to my flat a few times since I moved but didn’t know the area particularly well so took the opportunity to show her around. I really liked this part of town; it has a village type of vibe but is still quite urban. We have all the usual fast food outlets in or around and the main street has everything you could want shop-wise, including a couple of rather nice boutique style shops, cafes and bakeries.

What mainly drew me to this area was the fact that I could easily walk to work. On a good day I could be out of my flat and in the office all within a twenty minute amble. We also have terrific transport links leading into the city and a couple of pubs and a rather flamboyant gastro-pub that people travel miles to enjoy.

Despite our rocky start to the day, we spent a really good couple of hours wandering the streets and mum seemed impressed and said what a delightful place it was to live. Then I had a guilty thought because I wondered how long she planned to stay and if this serene part of my world was about to become part of hers.

Mum kept surreptitiously patting and squeezing my bottom because she knew I’d kept my disposable on. When I told her through clenched teeth to ‘quit it’, she just grinned and said she was just checking to make sure I wasn’t wet... yet.

Mum was having a great time and I, for the first time in many, many years, was out and about wearing a nice thick nappy, which I normally only wear in the privacy of my flat. So I suppose mum had to some extent got me out of a rut and worry about ‘what if’ others might notice. No one batted an eyelid, even with the lovely rustling noise I made (mum pointed it out after about half an hour when I thought only I was aware of it). A cold shiver ran up my spine and I felt really ill at ease but mum, in her no nonsense way, simply told me to enjoy the freedom a nappy gives a boy.

I wasn’t sure if mum was calling me a boy or it was just a general observation but oddly, I did feel less overawed by the fact I had padding between my legs, was out in public and having a surprisingly wonderful experience.

Since I’d started this weekend of innocent disposable debauchery it had remained within the walls of my home. I’d never worn any of my nappies outside but this experience was not only very pleasant but liberating. Each padded stride found the lovely thick fabric hugging me tightly as the plastic pants gripped the top of my thighs. I felt contained, special and safe.

“Thanks mum.”

I seemed to have been thinking that a lot over the last few hours... even If I wasn’t saying it out loud.


Eventually mum wanted to have a sit down and we decided on one of the café-cum-patisserie that did some really fantastic homemade confectionery. They could also make spectacular cakes for any special occasion... the owners, Tim and Rosy, were brilliant bakers.  Rosy had appeared on The Great British Bake Off but hadn’t won, which was a surprise to anyone who ever tasted her yummy cakes.

Mum loved the place and said that her ‘special’ coffee was the nicest cup she’d ever had the pleasure of drinking. She also ate a piece of apple and rhubarb tart and thought it exquisite. She ended up buying a couple of extra pasties for us to have for tea later in the day.

We sat for a while chatting away and although she didn’t give me any clearer info about her and dad’s row, she did get me to talk about my promotion and the way the job has panned out.

I told her about the long hours I had to work to prove I was up to the job, being the youngest manager and all, and, how quite a few of the staff didn’t seem up to their part of proceedings, leaving me to pick up the slack.

She asked if there was resentment from any one about me getting the job over someone who perhaps had been there longer and saw it as their right. Now that got me thinking.

She pointed out that early in dad’s career he came unstuck with such a person where he worked and put up with the situation for far too long.

“He’d come home late and exhausted,” she sympathised, “and to begin with I was all nice and lovey-dovey understanding his position. However, when I found out he was working harder to save this other person I got angry. Our relationship and our time together was being spoiled but that one person...” I could see the ancient anger in her face. “So, I told your father straight to get tough and get rid of him because either he went or I would as I refused to play second fiddle in that relationship.”

I never knew this about mum and dad. I mean, I know mum at just over five feet tall doesn’t take much messing but I’d never seen her in that particular light before - hard and absolutely certain of her position.

I was enthralled. “Did dad get rid of him?”

Mum smiled but you’d hardly call it a smile, more a grimace of determination. “He bloody well did and, the office settled down pretty quickly afterwards. And I got your dad home at a sensible time and our weekends back.”

There was a touch of satisfaction in mum’s voice as she drained her coffee and ordered a second cup.

We must have chatted for about an hour but the time simply flew by and in that period I felt myself guiltily filling my disposable. All that coffee and breakfast orange juice mum had prepared, still, she’d got me thinking about the job and my drenched nappy didn’t seem too important. She helped me make a decision not to cover for anyone’s incompetence but to check on what was being done or not done and hold that person or persons responsible for their own work.

“You’re the boss, you’re their boss... you might be the youngest but that’s no reason not to be firm with those you manage.” She was adamant, “Don’t let anyone undermine you because if they get away with it... you’ll be forever undermined.”

Twenty four years I’ve been on this Earth and for all those years mum has been my mum but never had I heard her speak like this and it was incredible. I could see why dad and mum might have rowed, especially if she was laying down the law but she made sense and I would be looking closer at my fellow workers in future.

By the end of the second cup mum had changed the way I thought AND the way I’d approach my work when I got in Monday morning. Meanwhile she leant over the table and whispered that perhaps it was time, as I was no doubt absolutely soaked, for a change.

I had no idea how she knew but she must have known from the shocked expression on my face that my nappy did indeed need urgent attention.

“Sweetheart, a mother knows.” She picked up her bag, thanked the staff and more or less gently herded me out into the street patting my soggy bottom as she did.

“Now then love, let’s get you sorted shall we?”

She laced her arm through mine and we set off home.


Part 5

“Eeee that takes me back.” Mum smiled.

“What does?” I innocently enquired.

She let go of my arm and gave me a sidelong glance. “That,” her eyes were taking in my gentle stride, “that cute little waddle when you’ve filled your nappy.”


But then I realised I was walking with my legs slightly apart because, as it’s supposed to do, the disposable had done its duty and soaked up all the pee and expanded as a result. I wasn’t used to having to deal with this in public and mum watching but she just smiled some more, re-linked with my arm and we continued on our way.

Mum seemed to be enjoying my embarrassment saying as how she’ll give me a nice bath and powder my cute little tush and other such silliness. No way was that going to happen. Thankfully, I think it was all just a tease but she was on a roll and couldn’t help herself.

“Mum,” I whispered hoping that none of the other pedestrians would hear our chat. “I don’t want to be a baby... I just like wearing a nappy.”

A woman picking up her tiny white Bichon Frise puppy’s poo looked up in disgust when she heard the word nappy. Whether she understood I was talking about me and not wrapping her dog in one so it didn’t shit in the street was uncertain. Still, I’d have to be more careful with what I admit to when out and about.

Mum was having a great time and never stopped giggling all the way home.


I live in a relatively new block of twelve flats over two floors. On the west side are Flats 1,3 and 5 and on the second floor Flats 7,9 and 11. The east side is just a mirror version of the same design and I live in Flat 2.

The first two flats on each floor are just one bedroom, whilst the other is slightly larger and has two. They’re pretty modern, having only been built five years ago so I was lucky to find one and I’ve been grateful ever since I moved in that I don’t have prying neighbours, or even see much of them because of the hours they and I work.

In fact, I think my next door neighbour at Number 4 is a single lady called Florence but I’ve no idea the name of the guy who lives at Number 6. I’ve seen him come and go of course but we’ve never actually spoken. I suspect he’s around the same age as me and I think he must work from home but I’m only speculating. The same with those who live above me, I’ve seen them come and go and apart from a ‘Hello’ if we pass each other in the communal area I know nothing about any of them.

Once through the front door I made my way first to my bedroom to collect a few things and then to the bathroom to change. Mum, being in the devilish mood asked if I needed help. I told her to back off and go and watch TV or something.

“Do you want me to get a fresh nappy ready for you?” She shouted through the closed bathroom door.

I didn’t say anything but dreaded that anyone in the other flat might hear her, she wasn’t being too subtle. Besides, I had my briefs with me now and had no intention of wearing a nappy again whilst mum was around.

The problem I had... once I’d taken the soggy thing off, rinsed the glassy plastic pants in the sink and wiped myself clean I really did just want to delve back into padded bliss. Today had been an eye-opener and new experience for me so, despite mum (or probably because of her), it had been quite exhilarating.


I came out of the bathroom wearing just my CKs but carrying, not unlike the lady with the poo bag, my disposable wrapped up in a little plastic bag. Mum had turned the TV on and was running through the channels but still watched as I walked back to my bedroom.

“Well they don’t look very substantial.” She called after me.

“Yes, well, I fancy a change.”

“And are you going to carry that disposable around with you all day?”

“No mother,” she could tell from my voice that I was getting annoyed.

“I’m just saying... if a nappy makes you happy then why change? Your attitude is already pretty grim and that sourpuss face won’t make you any friends.”

I didn’t realise that the lack of padding had made my entire demeanour different but she’d instantly picked up on it. Nonetheless, I’d made up my mind, no more nappies until she’d gone.

I threw on a pair of jeans and jumper and went to sit with her. We rattled down the TV remote until we found an afternoon film we both fancied and settled down to watch that.

Later we had those lovely pasties she’d bought at the patisserie for tea and watched another film later over a bottle of wine (mum’s treat as drinking in the house was something I rarely did). I wanted an early night but of course, my usual programme of events had changed so there would be no shuffling a nice disposable up my thighs and... well you get the drift?

I found mum some extra sheets and her five foot frame fitted nicely onto the sofa. I remember when I bought it I did think perhaps I should get one that turned into a bed but then remembered I didn’t want anyone to stay so didn’t bother.

Mum said it was no problem and repeated she’d had a fantastic day and was sorry to disrupt my plans.

Perhaps it was the wine talking but I said I also had a pretty wonderful day and it was down to her.

She cheekily asked if I wanted tucking in but I just laughed give her a peck on the cheek and retired to my room.


I lay there in my boxers and t-shirt thinking, not only about the day, but the memories she’d stirred.

I did remember when I’d had that dream that set the nappy business off because when I was six I’d woken up to an absolute mess. I mean, it was carnage in my PJs, sheets, bedding and even the mattress was soiled beyond recovery.

That night mum returned me to wearing a nappy because I couldn’t tell her what the dream or nightmare had been about. For the life of me, all I knew was that I was terrified about something but had no idea what. I didn’t know if I’d heard something I shouldn’t, saw something or read something, all I knew was I was scared of going to sleep and doing the same thing again.

As I woke up dry and wearing a nappy I simply associated the two facts - I was dry as a result of wearing such night time protection. I became obsessed with worry that if  I wasn’t padded then the dream would return, whatever that dream was, and I’d be in serious trouble from my parents for not being able to control my pee and poo.

Mum was correct, I did throw a tantrum when it was suggested I was old enough and a big boy so shouldn’t need such protection any more but I wouldn’t have it. To be certain I needed to know I was safely bound for the night if I was to get any sleep. I think my parents just went along with it for a bit of peace.

I also remembered now why I stopped.


I was ten when Uncle Paul, dad’s youngest brother, came to stay with us for a couple of weeks. He was an officer in the Royal Navy and, to me at least, a very exotic and wonderful person. He was staying with us because normally he’d be at grandma and grandpa’s house but they were moving and so, as he was on two-week leave dad suggested he came to stay with us. It was the most exciting time of my life.

Uncle Paul oozed youthful vigour, his uniform alone had me in a state of absolute wonder and he’d regale me with stories of exotic places, storms at sea and life on-board ship. Never had I been so transfixed for so long, I hung on his every word.

On the weekend mum and dad wanted to take him out for a meal but he didn’t want to go he said he was still trying to catch up on sleep and suggested they have a ‘romantic’ night out on their own and he’d babysit me. This was an offer I don’t think mum or dad could refuse and so I was happily left with my hero when they disappeared for the night.

I was getting ready for bed but obviously they’d told him about my need for a nappy when he came in to my bedroom. I thought he was there to help but he just saw me juggling a thick fabric nappy and said I shouldn’t need that.

I explained how scared I was of messing again and he told me a tale of his first day on board ship.

He came and sat next to me on my little single bed.

“I found it very scary,” he confided, “I was just a rating, the lowest of the low and on a sea-going warship so, as you can imagine, didn’t know if we’d come under fire any moment.”

I held my awestruck breath as he talked about the rolling sea on that first night.

He took the nappy from my hand. “I could have done with one of these I was so frightened of what might happen.” But he simply passed me my PJs and slowly, as the tale unfolded, helped me into them.

Before I knew it, I was wrapped in my pyjamas without wearing a nappy and listening spell-bound to his tale of that first night at sea.

“Do you know what got me through that terrifying first night?” He asked in all seriousness.

I shook my head as he helped me under my covers.

“The fact I was surrounded by my mates. All those other ratings were not only my colleagues, they were my best friends and I knew I could rely on them if anything was to befall me.”

I didn’t know what to say as he stroked my drowsy head.

“Now Casper I’m here for you... I’m the mate you can rely on... I won’t let you down and you don’t need a nappy because I’ll be right here.” He said as his finger touched my forehead like ET had done with Elliot.

I settled down but couldn’t take my eyes off this wonderful man, my Uncle Paul, my mate.

“Uncle, am I one of the mates you rely on?” I whispered.

“You’re my best mate... now try and get some sleep.” He saluted me and I saluted back before snuggling down under my blanket

Just one morning, when I was ten years old... I woke up wearing dry pyjamas and no nappy.


Part 6

I woke up feeling like I’d relived most of my childhood and I was ten again. I was even stroking myself through the fleecy duvet thinking just how soft and teddy bear like it was. My eyes focused on the clock, it was 9.32 on a Sunday morning and noticed a fresh mug of coffee gently streaming on my bedside table.

It had been fantastic thinking of Uncle Paul again. I remembered how much I was in love with a man that went to sea and I would have done anything for this super, heroic, gorgeous seafarer.

Those two weeks he spent with us were awesome for a lad like me. I even thought about a life in the navy when I grew up. Somewhere in a photo album there’s a picture of the entire family, grandma and granddad included, where he’s wearing his uniform and I’m beaming like the cat who’d just got the cream because his hand is resting on my shoulder.

I was deliriously happy when he was with us and felt really sad when he went back to sea. However, my nappies stayed in the wardrobe and pyjamas stayed dry and that’s all thanks to my wonderful uncle.

I know, when he left the navy a few years ago he decided he never wanted to see the sea again and the last we heard he was working on a ranch in the middle of Australia. Unfortunately, we haven’t seen him since he moved. The idea of being a sailor also faded as I got into tech and got older.

Meanwhile, I could hear movement so guessed mum was already up so I checked I was decent and wondered in to the living room clutching my drink but hanging loose under my boxers.

I’d hardly got “Morning mum” out before I noticed the changes she’d made to the furniture. “You’ve been busy.” I acknowledged whilst taking another calming sip.

“Yes, I couldn’t sleep and I thought you weren’t making the most of this room... it was all too... cramped.”

I couldn’t disagree and although I felt like I wanted to complain about her messing with my home without any kind of consultation, I had to admit there did now seem to be much more space.

“Yes,” I mumbled, “I was thinking of changing things around a bit but, erm, thanks, for saving me the trouble.”

“No problem love....”

I didn’t feel I wanted to get into an argument despite her flouting the rules of hospitality... you don’t mess with the host’s things. Apparently, mum hadn’t got that memo.


My mobile rang and it was my friend Tigger (his initials were T.I.G. so it just sort of stuck from school) who wanted to know if I fancied a game of squash at the local sports centre. He’d booked a time but his partner had dropped out and needed someone at short notice. As I only lived a fifteen minute walk away he thought of me.

Now, I know I should have been upset about being second on the list but did fancy a game. It was one I used to play fairly regularly before my promotion and felt the need for a good run around.

I looked over at mum who insisted I go and enjoy myself. I think she was thinking that how she’d ruined what I really wanted to do, she couldn’t get in the way of a bit of physical exercise.

I agreed to Tigger’s request, went to my bedroom and found my squash racket, balls and shorts, all of which I loaded into a bag and set off.

“Are you sure you’re going to be OK?” I asked mum.

“Don’t be silly love, you go off and enjoy yourself I’ll have a morning of reading... no... on second thoughts... can you leave me the password on your laptop so I can catch up on my emails?”

I didn’t want to give her that info but it seemed prudish not to and just hoped she wouldn’t search through the browser.

I set it up for her before I went and loaded her emails, she had a ton.

“OK, I won’t be too long and should be back before one... maybe two...”

“It’s all fine. Just have a good time sweetheart and I’ll see you when I see you.”

I wasn’t sure I was doing the right thing but the prospect of beating Tigger was overpowering and I needed to let off steam. A damn good run around, smashing a little ball into a wall was just the outlet I needed.


As it was we had two forty minute sessions (which much to my enjoyment I won easily) and we finished off with a half hour swim in the pool.

It had been great to get back into my shorts and sneakers and sweat through sheer exertion. I did for a time wonder what it might be like to wear one of my disposables as I careered around the court but lost that game because I wasn’t concentrating. I didn’t let that happen again.

As we relaxed in the pool I told him about mum’s visit. He expressed sympathy because I know he doesn’t get on with his parents, they didn’t approve of the woman he married. They were right as he’s now divorced and has large alimony payment to meet each month.

I think he also needed to get a lot of built-up pressure and anger out of his system. Still after the game we met up in the local pub with another one of the seven-a-siders I used to play regularly with, Bushy or, in his native Thai language, Busarakham.

He was the jolliest chap I knew - always smiling, always positive and always superbly dressed. Mind you, his father owned a Thai import business so the family were very well to do. He bought the first round and as the company was terrific, it was well past three, and a little unsteady when I arrived back home.


I could smell mum’s cooking before I entered the house. I hadn’t had Sunday lunch for some time and my taste buds were going mad in anticipation.

“Did you have a good game love?”

“Grrreaaattt.” I slurred.

She had her own glass of white wine on the go so I didn’t feel too bad about stopping over for a bevy or two with my mates. As it is, I don’t see any of them that often these days so I was grateful for the invite and it had turned into such a social occasion, something of a rarity for me.

“Sweetheart,” mum started, “I’ve got a chicken in the oven and it will take some time as I’m slow-cooking it, so why not get your head down for an hour or so when it should be ready.

Actually, that sounded a really good idea so I nodded my agreement and toddled to my bedroom and shuffling off my jeans I couldn’t be arsed with the boxers so lay out on top of the bed wearing just my CK briefs. I was asleep within moments.

I don’t know why but I dreamt of Bushy and Tigger and we were swimming in a pool somewhere exotic. The weather was hot and we were just larking around like three kids, although we were all in our twenties.

At some point mum arrived on the scene and told me to get out as I was leaving a trail of yellow pee in the water behind me. I tried to tell her it wasn’t me but she was adamant I get out and go to her.

It was like I was a little kid and she was telling me off and I knew automatically this meant I was about to get smacked legs for peeing in the pool on purpose, even though I said it was an accident.

“We both know that’s not true now don’t we?” She admonished.

I looked down at my feet in self-conscious guilt as mum came over to spank me.

“Casper, Casper... what the hell love!”

I was roused from a very deep sleep but glad to avoid the punishment I was about to receive.

“Quick love, get to the toilet you’ve wet your undies.”

“Ohh bloody hell,” I screamed to myself, not fully conscious but aware of what had happened and dashed to the bathroom.

Twenty four and I’d just wet myself again in front of mum... this was a disaster.

I threw off my soaked briefs and headed for the shower to clean up and sober up but I could hear mum getting on with something as I angrily soaped my crotch.

To be honest I was quite embarrassed about leaving the privacy of the shower and facing mum. I’m sure she’d have some choice words to say, although I might be getting that mixed up with what I’d been dreaming about.

I entered my bedroom wrapped in a towel but my confidence had been smashed by such a juvenile act. I mean, wetting whilst wearing a nappy appeared so adult compared with doing so in your underpants. I was shame-faced.


Mum had stripped the bed and I could already hear the washing machine in progress.

“Sorry love, but you’d wet through the sheets... thankfully though, it hadn’t reached your lovely new mattress.”

I was still looking at the ground, I could barely even think of looking mum in the eye as if we were of equal status.

“Casper, Casper, look at me love.” When she’d got my attention she continued, “Accidents happen dear so don’t feel too bad but...”

I knew that word ‘but’ was loaded with meaning.

“...did you wet because of the drink or because you thought you were still wearing a nappy?”

I shrugged. Like a little kid who didn’t know the gravity of what he’d done. What a fine example I am as a boss when I can’t even accept what had happened. However, mum was right, why had I wet? It was probably down to the number of pints of lager I’d consumed at lunchtime but, what was it I was dreaming about?

Mum had posed the question and I stood, shame-faced whilst she continued to get on with sorting things out. She’d found the spare bedding and started to remake the bed and just stood, like a spare part, thinking what the hell happened.

I wandered over to the dresser and pulled out a pair of boxers.

“Do you think that’s wise?” Mum asked as she busied herself with tucking in sheets.

I shrugged again.

Mum stopped what she was doing, went to the wardrobe and pulled out a brightly coloured disposable and a pair of clear plastic pants and shoved them into my hand.

“Let’s be on the safe side shall we?” It was partly a question and partly an instruction as she pointed me back to the bathroom.

I closed the door and looked at myself in the mirror. Nothing had changed physically but in my head I felt like a naughty and stupid little kid who couldn’t keep his pants dry. However, I’d taped myself into the nappy and pulled up the plastic pants as mummy had told me to.


When I returned to my bedroom the bed was made as if nothing had taken place but she’d laid out a t-shirt and a pair of jogging bottoms for me to put on. I didn’t even take in the fact that mum was dressing me as if I couldn’t do such a simple task myself but... I put them on anyway.

“Dinner’s ready.” I heard mum call from the kitchen.

How mum had done it I’ll never know because there was a full Sunday roast waiting on the table - chicken, roast potatoes, carrots, green beans and my favourite, thick onion gravy.

“Thanks mum... when did you find time to...?”

“Just eat love you need something in your tummy.”

Another wonderful meal and despite my initial misgivings, I hadn’t been eating this well since I left home. In fact, I don’t think the oven had been used since I’d moved in. This was another welcome treat.

Mum had done everything whilst I had been happily quaffing back pints and leaving her on her own. I felt guilty but then again, she’d coped quite well without me interfering. Even sitting at the table, wearing my well-padded protection was making me feel relaxed and comfortable. How had mum pulled everything together with such ease and given me advice and not thrown a fit when discovering my nappy fetish?

I wanted to ask her all this but instead just said how moist and tasty the chicken was.


After the meal and we’d finished washing up (which we shared) mum showed me a few other things she’d ‘rearranged’ to make better use of the small amount of space my flat actually had. All the kitchen cupboards and storage had been re-provisioned with proper food, whilst the protein drinks and powder had been put out of the way under the sink.

“Whilst I’m here Casper you’ll eat properly, never mind all this, this nonsense,” She pointed accusingly at the large carton of 26 essential vitamins & minerals powder.

I knew I wasn’t going to change mum’s mind and in truth, after the way I’d been today, I didn’t think I was in any position to start laying down the law to her. I could change things when she’d gone so there was no point in making unnecessary waves now. Besides, as we settled on the sofa to watch one of David Attenborough’s nature specials I felt both physically and mentally satisfied.

Even better, there was a satisfying crinkle as I sat down next to mum, she smiled and patted my leg.

“I knew that’s what you needed sweetheart. Don’t change what you want on my account.”

Then I did something I hadn’t done for ages, I scrunched myself up into mum’s armpit so she was forced to put her arm around me. Childish I know but it felt wonderful to regain that connection.


Part 7

Monday morning I woke up to a soaked but contained nappy having had a wonderful night’s uninterrupted sleep. Over a bottle of prosecco (mum’s favourite tipple) we chatted, reminisced and laughed the night away before turning in.

Normally I don’t wear a disposable Sunday nights but was so comfortable I just piled under my clean sheets and drifted off without a care in the world. As usual, I’d got my clothes ready for work, so, after a quick shit, shave and shower I was just about ready for another day at the office.

As I was about to leave mum hoped I’d have a nice day, reminded me to ‘delegate’ and to keep an eye on any ‘shirkers’. She patted my bottom as I gently kissed her cheek.

“Oh, no nappy to work?” She quickly patted my bum again as if making certain of her observation.

I smiled back, “They’d have a field day if they found out.”

“But you’re happier in a nappy.”

 “Yes,” I recklessly admitted, “but they don’t need to know or have any suspicions to that fact.”

“OK sweetheart, you know best,” and waved me off.

Of course, now she’d mentioned the lack of a nappy, as I strolled the three miles to work and despite it never having bothered me before, that was all I could think of. The lack of padding did feel like I was missing out - how the hell had mum got into my head so much and so easily?

As I walked down the street, dodging joggers and other pedestrians, I vaguely wondered what else would have changed by the time I returned to the flat. However, mother had said she expected me back before seven – boss or no boss – I had to be home.


The new week also brought a new venture under my department’s control. I knew it wasn’t difficult as we’d managed similar projects many times but of course, I was the boss now.

I gave each member of the team their part in the process and a timescale for completion. Everyone seemed satisfied with their workload and the time constraints and, as far as I could, left them to it.

However, by the end of the day two of the team had found difficulties and hadn’t finished their work. One was Terry Adams, a young guy who was a bit iffy, but at his interview seemed bright and just what we needed in the company. The other was Donald, dear, dear Donald who, I’m sure thought he should be in charge.

I checked their work and saw immediately it wasn’t a case of the work being difficult; it was them and their attitude. Why Terry had hitched himself to Donald I had no idea but first thing I decided was to separate them so when they came in the following day, things would look a little different.

However, I couldn’t bring myself to confront what was obviously going on and hoped this small act would suffice.

When they’d all gone home at 5.30 I spent the next hour redoing Donald’s work and getting it on track, then magically, I was home before seven and felt I’d achieved something, not everything, but something.


Over the evening meal mum told me she’d been out and had sat in the park then wandered around getting her bearing’s and found the area ‘delightful’. She even decided the retirement complex on the outskirts looked pretty impressive and I joked about her and dad moving there.

“Not with him,” she added churlishly.

“Have you not spoken with him today?”

She shrugged “Sweetheart I simply haven’t had the time... but I like your neighbours. Katy next door was very chatty and François at Number 6 is a lovely looking chap... writes programmes... though not sure if that’s a proper job but he seems nice enough.”

So it was Katy and not Florence at Number 4... I wondered why I thought it was Florence.

“Well you have been busy.” I smirked but thought it was my turn now. “Perhaps the time would have been better spent mending a few bridges of your own.”

“Nonsense, he’ll come to his senses... eventually.”

“He’d better but, perhaps you should hold out an olive branch.” I said hopefully.

She looked at me as if I should know her better.

“OK.” I conceded.

“Anyway dear, how about you, did you find the miscreant?” She was eager for news.

“Yes, it’s a guy and his next door neighbour, I mean they work together, who are causing the slowdown of work.”

“I see... and what have you done about it?”

“Well, I’m going to separate them and then... well... not too sure what to do about Donald...”

“Is this Donald an older man?” I nodded, “Then you need to get rid. Get your own team together, a team you can trust and make sure everyone is aware you are planning changes... changes that not everyone will like.”

I was shocked at how mum had got it all planned out in her head.

“I’m not sure that...”

“Don’t give me that. The management, you say, are looking to you to prove yourself... well do so. Be aggressive, definite and sure of exactly what you want and who you want working with you. Just be confident.”

“You make it sound so easy... it’s not... some people have been working there years and I can’t just...”

“OK, OK, look at it this way. Maybe management wants you to remove the deadwood and are watching to see if you’ve got the bottle? OR. Maybe this asshole Donald wants to make you look bad so he can step up and ‘solve’ the problem. You need to act fast and firmly.”


Mum’s tirade I’m sure was partly aimed at me and partly out of frustration with dad. However, what she said made a lot of sense and I could only wonder what would happen if I put these gears into motion.

Later, whilst we were sat watching TV mum had obviously been thinking things over.

“Look love, off subject but I feel it relevant... so stay with me.” I turned the TV sound down and looked at her. “When did you decide to wear nappies again?”

Although it was an obvious question I hadn’t thought mum would go there. “Ermmm.”

“All I’m saying,” she continued, “is that at some point you made the decision that you wanted to feel the padding back. Now, as you know, I’m not bothered but it must have taken some guts on your part to acknowledge this was what you wanted.”

I nodded and blushed a furious red as she spoke this way about my fetish.

“You need to be just as single minded with work sweetheart. To get what you want, what you’ll put up with and what you most certainly won’t.”

At that moment I wished I had on my nappy for comfort because what she was saying made sense, although I wasn’t sure it was something I could accomplish and a nappy, well, that gave me different but positive feelings.

“Tomorrow love, wear your favourite disposable to work and draw on that sense of empowerment a nappy gives whilst you knock one... erm.... do what you do.”

I was shocked at mum’s interpretation of why I wear a nappy and even more so because she’d nearly said ‘knock one out’ a phrase I never thought would enter her head. Did I think mum was too innocent to think such a thing? I must be mad but quite spontaneously, we both burst into hysterics.

“Sorry love just got caught up in the moment.” She said through mirth-filled eyes.


Once we’d calmed down, and although the TV was still on, I got to thinking about what mum had said. I know it sounded a bit ‘out there’ but I think I understood what she was getting at. If I was being honest, she’d also given me something I hadn’t thought about and that was getting my own team together. I liked that concept and started working out in my head who I wanted and why.

Tuesday morning and before I went to my office I had things to discuss with the CEO who just so happened to be in.

I laid out my ideas and told him why I needed my own team and that if it was alright by him and HR there’d be a few changes that would benefit the company. Thankfully, he liked my thinking and approved my actions.

Perhaps mum was right about this?

A trip down to HR and I had all the information I needed and the avenues I was prepared to take to achieve my aims.

On Tuesday afternoon, just as everyone was leaving, I called Donald over for a quick word.

When it was just the two of us I told him about setting up a new team and, as he was finding it difficult to keep up with the others in the office, he would be transferred to another department.

I saw the look of shock.

“I can keep up it’s just, it’s just...” He was a bit lost for an excuse.

“No Donald, you’ve been here long enough, and the powers-that-be agree, that as you’ve tried but failed to engage in our current project.” He tried to interrupt but I was determined to see this through. “From tomorrow you’ll be working with Askwith and her team.”

“But that’s a demotion... I’ll speak to...”

“HR has already spoken to Mrs Askwith and she’s agreed to take you on parole.”

“But, but...”

“Your friend Terry also seems to be having problems but I’ll give him a chance as he’s only just joined us and might be still settling in...”

The look of shock turned to daggers and I could see he wanted to retaliate in some way.

“I have spoken to HR in case you weren’t happy and there is a severance package you might consider, but of course, it won’t be anywhere near what your pension would be. However, that’s up to you. Goodnight Donald, have a safe journey home and don’t forget... from tomorrow you’re with Mrs Askwith.”

OK, OK I have to admit it I was wearing one of my fantastic but childish disposables, covered in an even more juvenile patterned pair of vinyl pants. Mum had woken up earlier than me and got them ready as I took a shower.

“You young man, should feel completely in charge today and these will help.”

“Are you sure?”

“I have faith in my boy and he can do anything even wearing a nappy.”

I gave a determined smile. “Especially wearing a nappy.”

I’d dealt with Donald and felt like I was in charge. Strange how a simple (though extremely soft) nappy gave me that extra boost of confidence.


Part 8

It seemed incredible that mum’s short visit (I hoped it would be short) had invigorated my entire perception of what needed to be done at work. She understood, encouraged and not only that, every time I looked around there was another fantastic meal on the table.

My flat had never looked better. Things had been moved around to make space, which was a bonus as I was forever bumping into stuff during the night. She’d also sorted out my drawers, moving my special clothing around ‘for ease of access’ she said. So, despite my obvious guilt about certain aspects of my life, she now knew intimately what I liked, wasn’t bothered, which in turn made me feel less guilty about my little ways.

She’d cleaned all the windows and the mirrored sliding doors on my wardrobe, which was also suddenly tidy and had a stacking system I should really have adopted earlier. Now I’m not a slob but simply don’t have time to be that tidy. Mum laughed at that excuse.

“If you have time to wallow in nappies, you have time to keep things neat. Remember what the good book says ‘cleanliness is next to godliness’ or some such drivel. Anyway, it’s shipshape now so keep it that way.”

Mum was having FUN... the argument with dad didn’t seem to be bothering her at all.

When I lived at home she was just the same so it was a like returning to my teenage years. I seemed caught in the conundrum of being an adult and thinking for myself and mum taking charge of a thoughtless teen and doing things right. I knew which aspect was winning because my home, and to a degree me, had never been this well organised.

She’d even moved my underwear from the top drawer to make way for neat rows of disposables “No reason to hide these away sweetheart, they’re what makes you, you.”

All I could do was sigh, knowing she was a force that wasn’t going to be stopped, and let her get on with it but having nappies so accessible was quite a nice touch. Oh, and by the way, she’d also stacked the plastic pants from cutest, at the front of the row, to the most boring, at the back.

Yes, she was definitely enjoying herself.


Against all my expectations, the week just simply flew by. I was getting my own team together at work and mum’s presence around the house was an absolute boon.

By the second week, and because, thanks to mum’s influence and positive encouragement, I was occasionally wearing disposable to work, my weekend indulgence just didn’t happen. I was enjoying the experience all the time, when and where I wanted to... it was quite liberating. If I wore briefs or boxers to work mum usually knew by the pat on my butt as she wished me well for the day as I set off. When I returned, now at a reasonable hour, she sometimes had cheekily left a colourful disposable on the bed as a ‘welcome home’ – pampered in both senses of the word.

On an evening, during the meal or sat on the sofa watching nothing in particular on TV, she’d bring up something from when I was a toddler that would have us giggling like kids. Usually it was things I had no memory of but had obviously meant a great deal to her as I grew up. It was as if she wanted me to return to my childhood.

Of course, that lament was in my head because then she’d say she was really sad that I had yet to find a partner. I explained that I just didn’t have time because my career took up what little there was. She said she was worried I’d leave ‘living’ too late and I couldn’t convince her I wasn’t that socially bothered to find ‘a significant other’. I was enjoying work and the responsibility but she was having none of that type of excuse.

“What about that nice lad at Number 6, François?”

“What about him? I’ve only ever nodded to him I didn’t even know his name until you told me... I mean, c’mon.”

“Don’t leave it too late.” Was her advice and when I reminded her of her and dad’s situation I asked if that was what she wanted for me?

She just shook her head as if there was no hope though did detect a touch of sadness in her demeanour but wasn’t sure if it was for me or her.


On the tenth day of mum’s visit I got a call at the office from dad. He’d never called me there before and I immediately went into panic mode thinking something horrendous had happened.

“Dad, dad, what is it has something happened?”  I think the anxiety level had raised my voice to a pitch only dogs could hear.

“No, no lad, nothing untoward,” his monotone voice had no worry to it. “Just wondering how mum is?”

“Dad you just sent panic stations through me...” I tried to calm down. “You do have her number so could call her yourself.”

“Yes, but I hadn’t heard from you for a while and just wondered how things were, you know, going.”

Bloody hell, dad had caught me out because in all the changes at work, all the fun at home and all the tidiness... I simply forgot all about him. A wave of guilt swept over me.

Hmmm she’s fine. In fact I would say she looks a good ten years younger and seems to love being here with me... but dad... you need to chat with her not me.”

“Aye son I know but it gets more difficult when you get older to, you know, admit... stuff...”

I could hear sadness in his voice but really thought a man of fifty-five should be able to chat sensibly to his wife.

“Well dad,” I said calming myself by rubbing the comforting padding under my trousers, “there’s no time like the present. Just call her and...”

“Admit I’m an old fuddy-duddy?”

“Is that what it’s all about?”

“More or less.”

“Is she right?”

“More or less.”

“Then dad, I love having mum here but I think she’d be happier with you so... man up and do something about it.”

“Suppose you’re right.”

I thought I had a bright idea.

“Look dad, why not come round for dinner tomorrow night and you can sort it out then.”

“Erm, thanks son but let me think about it...”

“OK but don’t leave it too late... she’s very popular with the neighbours...” I said that last bit out of devilment, I wanted dad to think he had rivals and needed to step up pretty quickly if he hoped to save his marriage. “Look dad I have to get back to work so we’ll speak soon...I have to go. Bye dad.” And hung up.

I just hoped I hadn’t made matters worse.

However, once I was off the phone I noticed a warming flush down below and suddenly panicked. Thankfully, today was a disposable day so I was protected. I looked up to the heavens and thanked... mum.


Office life was moving along as planned and the team I’d assembled were working together pretty well. Things were done on time and I thought rather impressively given the scrutiny the ‘new look’ department was under. The younger guys were eager to prove themselves and between them had come up with a couple of new ways of working that I knew would end up saving the company money.

At the end-of-the-week meeting my CEO was very impressed, even mentioning that I seemed more relaxed and on top of the entire project. He asked if there was anything new in my life and I nearly said “Mum” but knew he wouldn’t understand. Also, I was in the meeting and wearing a rather juvenile disposable with pink plastic pants as cover. Despite this outfit and a little worried about anyone saying anything, what might seem a strange thing to say given the circumstances, I’d never felt more in control.

Dad hadn’t returned my text about coming round for a meal so I didn’t mention to mum that he’d been in touch. I was hoping that they would have spoken to each other by then but, well, you know how stubborn grown-ups can be. However, Friday night, I’d just got in from work and mum had decided she fancied a meal at the gastro-pub. I shrugged and said I was OK with that and she said that was just as well as she’d booked a table for 8pm.

When I got to my room I saw she’d laid out my ‘underwear’ for the evening. This time it was not a disposable but a full, soft and fleecy-feeling proper nappy with pins and cream and powder, all waiting for after I’d had a shower.

I challenged her. “Mum, where did this come from?”

“Do you like it? I had it delivered. I saw some of the stuff you liked on your laptop and decided, as a thank you, to get a few bits and bobs.” She seemed nervous and pleased at the same time.

I wanted to tell her she’d gone too far but in truth, this was something I’d wanted to try as an alternative to disposables for some time. But, as had been the case since she’d arrived, knew just what I needed.

It’s strange feeling happy and angry at the same time. I was angry at mum checking up on me by looking at my browser history but absolutely pleased with the new addition to my ‘wank’ closet.

“Go take your shower,” she was indicating the bathroom, “then we can see how it all looks.” She seemed excited at the prospect.

I took off my suit and hung it up only then realising I was standing in my shirt and my large pink plastic covered disposable hanging down.

Mum noticed and smiled, “I’m glad you’re wearing this stuff if it makes you happy love.” She thought for a moment. “And you do seem a lot happier.”

She turned and took the few steps back into the living room and I quickly made my way to get a shower.


When I’d finished mum was waiting in the bedroom having already folded the fleecy nappy into shape.

“Right love, let’s get you sorted shall we?”

“No, no, no mummy dearest. I don’t think I’m going to let you put me in a nappy.”

She looked hurt. “Why ever not?”

“Mum, I know we’ve been pretty close this past...”

“But sweetheart... you need a mother’s touch to make it work. When was the last time you ever pinned on a nappy?”

She had me there because I’d not pinned on my own nappy since Uncle Paul talked me out of wearing one. However, now disposables were easy in comparison that’s what I used... anyway, there was no way mum was going to...

“As I thought, you haven’t done it in ages have you?”

She could tell I’d forgotten everything about the intricacies of folding and preparing a nappy to be worn correctly. It was true, I hadn’t done so for several years so had no idea what I had to do to make it fit well.

“So, no more of this false modesty, I’ll show you how and then you’ll know for future, erm, times.” She shrugged as if that was an end to it.

I may be twenty-four but that seemed to have no bearing on the situation as far as she was concerned.

“Now,” she continued, “are you thoroughly dry?”

She took hold of the towel and proceeded to make sure. I was naked and had my fifty... sorry, forty-nine year old mum drying me like I was still a toddler.

“Now sweetheart, relax but take note... this is how it’s done.”


Part 9

OK, OK, OK. Yes I know this is really weird because I thought so too but once mum had let me feel the nice new fabric, I’m afraid all other thoughts simply drifted away. I wanted to wear that nappy, and if it took mum to fit it on me, then so be it. She was in her element and once again I was her little giggling baby boy.

The protecting oils and barrier creams came first. She commented how it must be a relief to be naked around that area to stop the stuff from coagulating, followed by a comprehensive dusting of sweet smelling baby powder. She took her time arranging the material under my bum before gently looping the material around, pulling it up between my legs and pinning it securely in place. The extra padding she’d added making it look quite substantial but felt absolutely... wonderful.

I had a grin on my face throughout and mum was so gentle and caring, explaining as she went why it was folded in a certain way and what the benefits of that were. The fabric just slid into place and wrapped itself around my parts as if it was like, like... oh, liquid silk!

Yes, that’s it... liquid silk... perhaps with just a hint of fleecy teddy bear.

I was now in seventh heaven, or at least a place I hadn’t experienced before, which surprisingly disposables had never taken me. Maybe it was the unexpected sensual material, though more than likely the fact that it was someone else administering the comforting fabric. I’d never felt more pampered or more excited and squirmed in the ultimate enjoyment of a fresh, downy nappy hanging securely to my hips.

“OK sweetheart, these should do the trick.” And produced a new pair of clear plastic pants that had a sort of yellow lacy ruffle around the leg and across the bum. “I know these aren’t the type you usually wear but... I couldn’t resist them... they seem to go so well together.”

She was caressing the plastic and the nappy underneath and I could see precisely what she meant. The pins had little yellow plastic safety covers so did look like it all matched, even if a little, well, effeminate. I didn’t care.

Mum was looking proudly down at me whilst I was running my hands over the finished product... me... and it was fantastic. I felt elated and would have been happy to lie there for hours just absorbing this new sensation when there was a tentative knock at the front door.


Mum got up, “I’ll get it. You put some clothes on we need to be at the restaurant for eight.”

I’d forgotten all about our meal at the gastro-pub and didn’t really want to move from the cosy place I’d found myself in. However, mum was correct, we had a reservation and she was excited about trying the place out and I quite liked the idea of venturing out in public wearing this new addition to my wardrobe. So I went and found some jeans I hoped would fit over the bulk, which they did, and a nice lemon coloured jumper I hadn’t worn before.

I don’t know if I was automatically colour-coding or it happened by accident but I was really chuffed with my choice.

I hadn’t paid much attention to who the visitor might be, expecting it to be a neighbour in need of something. However, when I ventured out from the bedroom there was dad, standing in the doorway holding a bunch of flowers and mum looking somewhat annoyed.

They were just looking at each other.

“Come in dad. Mum don’t leave him just standing... invite him in for god’s sake.”

“I’m not sure I want him here.”

“Well obviously he’s come to see me and brought flowers so that’s not up to you.” I walked across and invited him in. “Come in dad and make yourself comfy.”

“Thanks lad,” he said as he shuffled past mum and stood waiting to be invited to sit down, still holding the flowers.

I gave him a hug. “Hi dad, nice of you to come visit.”

“Are you OK son?” he looked worried.

“Yes, sure, erm, why do you ask?” I ventured.

“Well you seem to be walking a bit funny.”

Was my guilty secret about to be revealed by mum... to my dad... or did he already know?

“No dad I’m fine thanks. How about you?”

“Mustn’t grumble.”

“I suspect those aren’t for me?” I enquired nodding towards the flowers.

“No there for your mother... who appears not to want them.”

“Well I think they look lovely so, tell you what, I’ll just pop them in a vase whilst you too talk.”

This wasn’t giving them much privacy as the kitchen and living room were all part of an open plan area.

Then I had an idea.

“Look you two, why don’t you go to the pub for a meal, discuss what the problem is and come back here afterwards and we’ll all have a nice drink together, eh?”

Mum didn’t look too happy with my suggestion but took the hint that they needed to sort this thing out.

“Look, take my card,” and I told her the pin number, “and have the meal on me, eh?”

Mum reluctantly grabbed her coat, it was quarter to eight and it would only take about five minutes to walk to the pub, so should be in time for the booking.

“Thanks son,” dad said as they left, “See you later... hopefully.” He crossed his fingers.

As soon as they were out of the door I ran back to my room, stripped out of the sweater and jeans and began to do something I’d not been able to do for what seemed like ages.


They arrived back just after eleven and they were laughing, which I took to be a good sign.

Actually, I don’t think I cared that much as I was sitting in a fully creamed and abused nappy and feeling totally exhausted. However, about ten minutes before they arrived back I struggled into a pair of sweat pants and deposited myself in front of the TV as if to show I’d simply watched a programme or two to pass the time until their return.

“Dad, are you driving?” I asked concerned as I saw he and mum had been drinking.

“The car’s outside but I’ll get a taxi home so...”

“Well in that case, do you want coffee or a proper drink?”

“He’s having coffee,” mum was quickly in, “and I’ll make it. You keep your dad entertained.”

There was no way I could ask dad outright how it had gone without mum overhearing so I just raised my eyebrows in question and in reply I got a furtive thumbs up. No more needed to be said.

When we were sat having our coffees mum announced that they were going on a cruise.

“A birthday cruise,” mum added as if to remind me of her forthcoming fiftieth. She placed her hand on top of dad’s which I thought bode well. “We’ll be away six weeks touring the Far East.”

“Crumbs,” my mouth fell open, “that’s one hell of a trip.”

“Yes, well, I think... and your father thinks it’s time we spent a bit of our savings on treating ourselves. We confirmed the booking over dessert.” She had the look of someone who had succeeded in a project but was trying hard not to gloat over it.

“Your mum’s right. We haven’t had a proper holiday for, well, years and years, we normally go to the same place in Great Yarmouth but...”

“Well not before time.” I added my congratulations.

I smiled because I could feel the spunky load soaking my nappy and was enjoying the sensation of me in company and feeling this way. It was naughty, and not just because I was with mum and dad, I loved the entire experience.

“When are you off?” I wanted to know.

“In a few weeks. We’ll be cruising around Thailand on my birthday if all goes to plan.”

That sounded all well and good but, the main question; had they patched things up enough that mum could go back home with dad tonight and leave me to carry on with my new nappy experience?

“So, what are you immediate plans... is this a reconciliation?” I ventured.

I didn’t want it to sound like I was rushing them out of my flat but it would have been nice as I was ready to go again.

“Yes.” Mum seemed pleased. “But your father wants to make a few changes to the house before I return home so... you’ll have me for a couple more days yet.” I tried to grin and keep a cheerful exterior. “If that’s OK with you?”

I swallowed. “Of course, no problem, that sounds brilliant.”

We finished coffee and by now it had turned midnight and I had to get up for work. I excused myself after kissing both mum and dad good night (something I hadn’t done for quite some time) and left them to finish whatever was left to say to one and other.

I’d just got settled down wearing just my nappy and plastic pants under the bedclothes when I heard mum wish dad “Good night” and the front door close. Thankfully, she didn’t feel it necessary to come into my room and tell me all about their meal.

I was grateful for this consideration as I had my hand full at that moment.


I woke up face down and hugging the pillow, it had been a hectic night for me and one I felt I needed. My sheets had slipped away leaving me without cover and of course, a warming morning brew was waiting on my bedside table.

I took a deep breath and settled myself with a sip of tea and wondered just what mum must think now she’d seen me exposed, after a night of ‘fun’. There was no doubt about the effective sexiness of this new nappy.  I was very glad that the new plastic pants (avec ruffles) had stayed the course and were robustly holding in my night of passion... or self-abuse.

“Morning love.” As usual she seemed to have been up with the lark, tidying the living room and generally being mum. “Do you want anything special for breakfast? I noticed you didn’t eat much last night so... I can make you something if you want.” She then added quite unnecessarily I thought. “You must be famished after all that activity.” She was having fun again at my expense but her chuckle was quite nice.

I decided I’d face up to it. “Yer, thank god you went out I don’t think I could have kept my...”

“OK, OK,” mum interrupted, “I don’t think I need to know the details thank you very much.”

“Well you started it.” Hell, we sounded like two little kids in a playground.

I wandered into the kitchen wearing nothing but my plastic and well abused nappy and slipped in to sit at the table. I knew mum would have made toast and that would do for now. Actually, as soon as I sat down and squelched a bit in the padding I did feel hungry and asked mum to make more toast and grab the honey.

“I hope you’re going to eat that... not spread it all over your privates.” Mum shocked me but was giggling like a schoolgirl. Last night must have gone better than I thought.

“I only do that on Sunday’s.” I countered.

“Phew, lucky for us it’s a weekday then, eh?”


“Well,” I cheekily enquired, “how did last night go?”

“What, you mean apart from being told I was going on a cruise?” She was pretending it didn’t matter but I could see she was rather pleased.


“Well, let’s see.” She thought for a moment. “Apart from your father booking our trip? Actually, he asked me if I fancied it, though didn’t say he’d provisionally booked it, as it was something I mentioned ages ago and had gotten his usual disinterested shrug as an answer.”

She shrugged herself as if to remind me what a shrug looked like but then her face lit up.

“I didn’t know your father knew how a mobile worked but he had all the info on his phone and, with a press of a button, it was all confirmed.”


I nodded and wriggled in delight because I could tell from mum’s enthusiasm that things had changed between the two.

“He apologised for being an old grump these past few years. Hell, he’s even got around to decorating the house... oh... and that’s why I need to stay for a little while longer. He wants to have it completely done for my return.”

Again she beamed with pride that he was being this thoughtful.

“Well you seem to have got him well trained.” I said by raising my eyebrows as if to say well done.

Mmmm, all it took was me to leave him... not a good sign.” For a moment she sounded a bit regretful.

I tried the positive spin. “But it worked AND you’ve got a holiday out of it.”

It felt really strange listening and chatting to mum about her night out and how happy she was that dad had seen the error of his grumpy ways. She even inferred that had I not been in the flat when they returned my bedroom might have been the scene for a reconciliation the likes of which it had yet to experience.

Urrggghhh, mum.” There’s sharing and sharing and I didn’t need that image stuck in my head.

“Yes, well think on. Anyway, you’d better get ready for work... your running a little late.” I looked at my watch and saw she was right. “And leave the nappy, I’ll have it all washed and dried for when you get home.”

A sudden flush ran through my body as I thought of all the punishment I’d put the soft and welcoming, but now damp and crispy in parts, item through.

“I know what goes on so no need to be defensive... you’re a growing lad and need your outlets... and it won’t be the first time I’ve washed your sticky underwear.”

I was about to argue but she just turned me towards the bedroom, slapped my saggy padding and told me to get a move on. There was no argument.


As I walked to work, a confident stride in my step and the reassuring hug of a pristine thick Elmo inspired disposable under my trousers, I thought about mum and dad like I don’t think I’d ever done before.

I’d always assumed dad was head of the family but when I really thought about it, mum was the one who made the decisions. Dad was a potent force in our home but not the deciding factor, and, I think I had a pretty easy and good relationship with them both.

In fact, after we’d talked about my wearing nappies when younger for quite some time after I actually needed them, then remembering Uncle Paul, I was really a very lucky guy growing up in such a loving and understanding household.

Of course, like all kids, I simply hadn’t appreciated just what my parents did for me or perhaps what a little sod I was as a kid wanting my own way.

Not only that, but since mum had arrived to stay, my life had gone from OK to brilliant in such a short time and began to wonder what it might be like to have someone, like mum and dad had each other, in my life. Perhaps, it wouldn’t be so bad.

I was in a really good mood as I strode into the office and saw my team hard at work and was even further pleased when the youngest member of our group, Hussein, nervously came up to let me know he thought he’d cracked a code that had been sending the computers into meltdown.

Yes, things were going well... for both mum and me.


When I got home mum was on my laptop.

“I hope you haven’t been watching porn all day.” I joked.

“Just a bit but, I have your card and pin now so... no problem.”

I’d forgotten I’d given mum my card to pay for the meal and I just hoped she was joking.

“Actually, I’ve been reading up on the cruise, what inoculations we might need for various parts of the trip and organised a visit to the doctors to get all the shots before we go.”

“Good for you.” I nodded that I was impressed with her thoroughness but of course it shouldn’t have come as much of a surprise.

“I’ve even ordered a few items online for the trip... things I’d never seen in shops in town but, tomorrow I’m going to look along your High Street to see if there’s anything else I need.”

“So, has my card taken a hammering?” I shrugged.

“Maybe a few little surprises on your next bill... but I’m sure I’m worth it.”

She didn’t expand but was quite coquettish about it fluttering her eyelashes and clasping imaginary pearls to her neck.

I just nodded as mum went to the oven and produced a wonderful looking lasagne I’d smelled the moment I walked through the door.

“Ready for something to eat sweetheart?” There was that loving tone I’d come to enjoy hearing.

“Thanks mum, I’m famished.”


Over dinner she was telling me about the neighbours she’d been chatting to. François wasn’t French like she thought, he was Swiss. Kate was from near where mum and dad lived and worked in the Care Home down the road and a new neighbour, from Number 1 was called Steve who was a personal trainer at the local, but very posh, Fitness and Welfare Spa. Mum thought he was absolutely beautiful but he knew it... so she preferred François.

“Why not ask them over for a meal or something?” She suggested.

“What, all of them?” I laughed but thought I’m not ready to start socialising with neighbours yet.

“Perhaps one to start with...” she left the suggestion open but I just carried on enjoying the lasagne.

Later we sat and watched a police series she liked set in Oxfordshire but I couldn’t get into it and besides, my disposable was falling apart having been on all day and I needed to get ready for bed.

I kissed her ‘goodnight’ and grabbed my laptop.

“No porn sweetie,” she was still gently ribbing me, “your card’s nearly maxed out.”

“Thanks ma... s’pose I’ll just have to do it the old way. Do you have one of your old catalogues lying around?”

“So it was you who stuck up the pages... I’d been blaming your father.”

I shivered at the thought. Mum was even outdoing me on clever come backs. I needed a change and some sleep but first I thought I’d check the browser and see exactly what she’d been up to.

Clever girl, she’d wiped the last session. I was going to learn nothing other than what she wanted to tell me.

Thankfully, I could catch up on a few other bits and bats and was pleased to see I had a message from both Tigger and Bushy wanting to know if I fancied a game of squash that weekend. We could make it a bit of a Round Robin competition so I agreed.


By Thursday mum had packed her stuff and was excitedly waiting for dad to come and pick her up. I got home by five and she told me he was on his way and that she’d be out of my hair by six. Of course I said it had been no trouble and meant it.

“Well love, I’ve enjoyed our time together... and... I’m glad to see you looking so healthy and less troubled.”

“Thanks mum. You’ve really been a fantastic roomy... I hardly noticed you being here,” I joked.

However, it was true, in just the few weeks she’d been here my life had changed so much and I had to say... that much was for the better.

“Now, I’ve been down to the patisserie and bought a few items...”

“Mum you needn’t have bothered I can...” She held up her hand.

“I know you can sweetheart but sometimes you just need a little guidance to make sure you do.”

That put me in my place.

“Don’t let work pile up or get on top of you sweetie... you need to delegate... and have confidence in those you have delegated to.”

She didn’t really need to be telling me this because, now I have my team, everything is working out fine and I do delegate. However, there’s no point arguing over something that is already happening.

“OK mum, will do.”

“There’s a lovely meat pie in the oven but it’s on the timer, when you’re ready to eat you’ll need to put it on for about twenty minutes to heat up....”

“Mum, thanks, I know how to cook.”


“Well, not as good as you but I’m learning...”

There was a knock on the door and dad had arrived. Mum’s face lit up on seeing him and he looked so different I hardly recognised him. Gone was the sparse hair, old cardigan and baggy trousers and a suave looking young man stood there looking like he was some Hollywood ‘A-lister’.

“Madam, you chariot is without.” Dad beamed back at mum. “Oh hi there Casper didn’t think you’d be home from work yet... how’s things?”

“Fine thanks dad. You’re looking particularly dashing.”

“About time,” mum interrupted. “Look, let’s get going,” she passed dad her case, “and then the poor boy can get on with his life.”

“Yes OK.” He gave me a quick hug, this was followed by an even longer hug from mum and then they were both gone. The room was suddenly quiet and empty and although I was about to get my life back... it felt really strange.

I sighed and looked around. Mum had left the place spotless and so much more ‘friendly’. More room, things where they should be and... I was going to miss her motherly influence.


I’d gone to bed that night wearing boxers and a t-shirt. For some reason I didn’t feel I wanted to indulge myself, although I did promise a return to my usual practises come the weekend.

I lay there thinking how fantastic it was that dad had turned over a new leaf, even if he only realised it after mum had made him act. However, there was a spring in his step and mum was positively glowing at the prospect of the long cruise in a few weeks’ time.

She’d showed me some of the things that she’d bought on our High Street and dad was going to be a very lucky man if he played his cards right.

I fell asleep with a smile on my face thinking how lucky I’d been... mum was certainly a force to be reckoned with.

I dreamt of lying on a beach, the sun toasting my naked body and the waves slightly disturbing the shells on the seashore with its gentle ebb and flow. I was relaxed and I think there may even have been company but I couldn’t identify who else was there.

I woke up. No morning cup of tea waiting on my bedside table but that warm glow continued.

Ohhh Fu..! I’d pissed myself... and only just now. Christ, what next?


I stormed out of bed and quickly checked the damage. I might have caught it before too much had leaked but still...

I wouldn’t care but mum had laid out a fresh nappy on my bed before she left. I should have taken that as a hint at least but no... ‘I wasn’t in the mood’, and now look.

I had no idea why that had happened all I knew was that I needed to get the pissy stuff in the wash, I needed a shower and I had to get off to work. I didn’t like this as the start to a Friday. I just hoped this wasn’t a portent of things to come.

I went to work wearing my normal CK briefs under my suit and just didn’t feel as in charge as I had when well padded. I mean, surely it wasn’t because mum’s influence had been that strong??? But perhaps it was, or had been, or... oh, I don’t know.

Hussein came and told me that his patch for the computer programme that had been giving us such trouble was working fine, and he’d now added another level of security, which meant the firewall around the department, was pretty tight. He’s a fantastic worker and I’m so glad mum suggested getting my own team together. It was all working pretty well.

The CEO called me into his office and, although nervous, felt pretty good about everything. So was he. He said that the budget for the team was going to be increased and we’d be working on future developments. He also said that he’d been impressed by the changes I’d made and at the speed at which we worked and the instant results we’d achieved. The company were already reaping the benefits of the latest scheme my department had instigated.

Cheekily, I said I was pleased and asked if everyone in the group could get a pay rise. He smiled and said that the team (he nodded an especially you) need not worry; a bonus was being worked out as we spoke. He agreed it was a good idea to reward the excellent work we were doing... if the firm wanted to keep such a young and cyber-conscious group together.

I came out of the office fairly beaming.

Despite a silly wet start to the day all-in-all I was floating on air and hoped that mood would last the entire weekend. It was nice to be able to rely on my team (my team) to simply get on with their work and not have the worry if someone like Donald was holding things up. Jennifer Askwith, to whom he’d been reassigned, would brook no nonsense and more or less told him to get his finger out or clear off... she wasn’t prepared to have passengers on her team. Meanwhile, it was reassuring to see that his mate Terry Adams, once he was no longer influenced by the older man, knuckled down and got on with the project and seemed to be enjoying being part of my new team.

When I thought about it my wake-up call (the wet bed) had been a dual purpose wake-up call, it got me up and it got me thinking. I knew just what to do at work and then when I got home...

I didn’t need mum to lay out anything this time.


Part 10

I was in the flat just after six that night with plans for an erotic orgy of fun that I’d kept on hold (to a certain extent) whilst mum had been staying. However, mum had shown that I needn’t be afraid of having an outlet for my fantasies, nor should I feel guilty about them. Mum wanted me to be happy and if wearing a nappy, or anything else for that matter, made me feel that way, then screw anyone who might disagree. She’d made me realise that hiding a bit of me away like that didn’t help me. In fact, it made me suspicious, secretive and socially inept. Simply preferring to feel guilty over something that concerned no one else was madness. “Wear your nappy with pride” had more or less been her advice - and I agreed.

It had been a good day, a very good day so I was feeling pretty good about myself. When I got in it looked like mum had called in one last time as she’d left a note of thanks (again) and said there was a nice casserole in the oven on slow cook (which was on automatic) and should be ready about eight. She also advised that there were a couple of bottles of vino in the fridge as a further thank you.

I smiled that even though only yesterday she’d gone home, she’d still felt it necessary to mother me. I wasn’t about to complain because she was simply a fantastic cook and I could put off my ‘celebrations’ until after I’d eaten. Although first I needed to get out of my work clothes, take a shower, get a nappy on AND, although now I had time on my hands, let the relaxing weekend begin.

Of course, with mum having popped round, she’d tidied up, made my bed and left a disposable laid and fluffed out on the bed also the rather stiff, but sexy, thicker white plastic pants. She knew I liked them a lot, they had a firmness I quite enjoyed, and had even set out a pair of rather nice green shorts to wear over them. They were a pair I liked because when I sat down or bent over, the plastic pants and full padded bottom would be on view and was always a bit of a turn on. It was one of the reasons I had mirrored wardrobe doors.

I wondered if mum knew that’s why I had mirrored doors... so I could watch myself. The idea mum might have cottoned onto that fact sent a brief shiver of shame through my body. However, she had laid out my outfit for tonight so she was no innocent to my fetish and I applauded her choice - very cuddly and thick (the nappy not me).

By seven I was showered and wearing exactly what mum had organised and felt like the weekend had started. I was just getting settled when there was a knock on the door. I assumed it must be mum returning for some other specious reason. I didn’t even think why she hadn’t let herself in... I just bowled over and flung the door open to...

It wasn’t mum.


Standing at the door was my neighbour from Number 6, François and he was holding a large box.

Although I’d said ‘Hi’ to him in the past I’d never really been this up close and personal before and was quite ashamed that after two years of living in the same block of flats this was the situation.

“Er, oh, hi, erm...” I said with an air of surprise.

He looked me up and down whilst I simply stared at his lovely twinkly eyes. He was quite tall, well taller than me and had a nice hunky body. His jeans and polo shirt hugged in all the right places.

“This came for you early today.” He said. “Erm, the nice lady who lives here... umm... asked me to take it in if it came whilst she wasn’t around but I think this is addressed to you... Casper...?”

I took the box and noticed the style of writing was similar to a parcel of stuff I’d ordered in the past from one of my nappy supply companies. Had mum been online and bought me some extras?

“Oh, errr, thanks,” I said reaching for it and hoping he had no idea what was inside.

“She also invited me for dinner at eight... is she here?” He asked looking over my shoulder into the small living area. It was obvious there was no one else around.

I tumbled. Mum has set me up on a date... that’s why the casserole is on slow cook... that bloody interfering woman.

“I’m sorry, erm François is it? Mum had to return home, ummm, she was only staying with me for a while.”

“She is a very nice lady... you’re very lucky to have such a wonderful attentive mother.”

It was like he was talking to a ten year old and I suspect he was only a couple of years older than me. However, that slight foreign accent was very sexy.

“Well, yes, she does talk a lot but...” He cut me off.

“Yes she said you were a very busy man and...” Again he looked me over and smiled, “a very sss...nappy dresser.”

I got the inference immediately and blushed suddenly aware of what I was actually wearing and wondering what the hell she’d discussed with this man.

“Mum is very chatty at times.” I said through clenched teeth and felt like a toddler wearing a nappy, shorts and all.

“Well,” François said with a touch of urgency. “I’m starved so hope the offer of a meal is still on.”

This looked like a fait accompli as it appeared I’d be sharing the casserole after all.

Actually, I’d just been standing at the doorway holding the parcel taking in this rather handsome, well-groomed guy and in my head I could hear mum telling me not to let this opportunity pass.

“Erm, yes I s’pose it is... ummm, well, do come in.”

As he entered my small flat and passed me in the doorway I couldn’t help but notice his cologne. He smelled wonderful.

“I’ll just dump the box in the bedroom. Please make yourself comfortable... or better still... there’s some wine in the fridge.”

I nodded towards the fridge although it would have been hard to miss in my small kitchen. Thankfully, mum had also cleaned the place up and for a small area, it looked pretty well-cared for. Thanks mum.

“I’ll just be a moment I’d better change.”

“Please Casper,” he looked across at me with those lovely eyes, “Do not change on my account... you look.... mignon... erm... great.”

“Oh, erm, OK.”  That accent, I just hoped ‘mignon’ wasn’t French for dumb or something worse.

I quickly dumped the box on my bed and bashfully returned to get some glasses and play the host a little better.


There was something wonderful about both him and the fact that I was more visible than usual when it came to my padding. I mean it wasn’t in full view although neither was it particularly well hidden. I kept watching him take an occasional glimpse and smile and that smile told me everything I needed to know.

Once again, mum had sorted out something I’d happily been making an excuse not to do... meet people. It was silly because I had no trouble at work getting to grips with being a great boss (I encourage, delegate and lead when necessary) but simply kept putting off getting to know my neighbours... and what I would have missed out on if it hadn’t been for my chatty mum.

However, this was a big moment. Well, the evening was a big moment because I was chatting quite amiably to another person who could see I was wearing thick padding. This wasn’t something I’d done before except with mum so it was a huge deal. To begin with I had to tell myself to keep calm and was surprised when after only a few minutes in this man’s company, it wasn’t an issue to worry about.

François was a fantastic guest. We demolished the casserole and a couple of bottles of chilled sauvignon blanc (thanks again mum) and I had no idea where the time went or what exactly we chatted about – nothing and everything at a guess. Over the meal we sat facing each other and I’m not sure, but suspect, the smile never left my face. I was enthralled; surely making friends wasn’t that easy. Well with mum’s help it was.

It was just after one when I was wondering if this encounter was going to lead to another caller staying overnight but he was polite. He thanked me for a wonderful evening and hoped to return the favour soon. Then added as he gently, and surprisingly, kissed my lips that he hoped to see me in whatever was in the box at some point in the future. I blushed from top to bottom and a dousing of pee unexpectedly filled my disposable, oddly, the first of the night.

I fell into bed thinking how lucky I’d been since mum arrived and, even when she wasn’t there, had made things happen. My self-imposed solo erotic weekend was now abandoned and I crawled under the covers wearing a damp nappy and slid into a grateful, undisturbed sleep.

I’d like to be able to enthuse that my dreams were filled with erotic adventures with François or that he joined me in my passion for nappies or that mum set me up with every guy in the block. Thankfully I slipped into a very happy place where bliss was a good night’s sleep.


I’ve just received a photo/text from mum and dad on-board their cruise ship out in the Far East. They say they’re having a fabulous time and look like they’re having a ball. Dad seems to have got a second wind at life and is doing a load of stuff he’d never dreamt of doing in the past: Pony trekking in the mountains, jet-skiing, dancing into the early hours of the morning. Mum is as pleased as punch though stopped him from bungee jumping; that was just a bit too dare-devil for her.

I share these happy moments with François as we’ve seen each other every day since that fateful (thankful) casserole. He isn’t into wearing nappies but gets really turned on when I’m wrapped up in them.

The parcel he delivered that night did indeed contain a fantastic set of new stuff mum had seen on the net and decided I shouldn’t live without. She seemed to think that I should have more fabric style nappies so there was an array of fluffy coloured coverings that I have to admit are fantastic to wear.

It helps that my man loves to help me into my new nappies. He takes it slow and sensually, letting me know just how sexually charged a nappy change can be.

Oh mum look what you’ve started.

I love the way, when I’m cooking, François wraps his arms around me and nuzzles the nape of my neck, or gently caresses the front of my plastic bulge or hugs my padded behind when we kiss. I get all goosepimply and can hardly keep my hands to myself.

Meanwhile, we haven’t moved in together simply because he’s only across the hall but says he’d like to make things more permanent. His is a two bedroom flat so it could be possible... although I don’t think we’d be planning on having a room each.

He said he’d like to take me on vacation to see his hometown in Switzerland and I’ve said ‘Yes’.

My department is running pretty well now and the company owes me quite a bit of vacation time so that’s not going to be a problem. Besides, I’m hoping that he’s going to spend his time over there in national dress - I can’t wait to see him in his short lederhosen.

I don’t know what I would have done without her but...

Thanks Mum




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