After you've finished reading, you might want to return to the DailyDiapers Story Index

 

Danni – My life as a living boy doll                                                 By Les Lea

 

 

My older sister has been dressing me up since I was a baby. Shortly after I was born, Julie, who was 5 at the time, took it upon her young shoulders to look after her baby brother and make sure no harm came to him. Apparently, even at her early age, she was the one who washed and changed me and made sure I was clean and tidy at all times. She chose and fitted the nappy I was to wear, the plastic pants, the romper outfit, the clothes, she bottle fed me, winded me and choose my dummy… every decision seemed to be down to her. My mum would go shopping but it was always Julie who decided on the clothes she thought I should wear and, as it took a great deal of stress away from my mum, who had other things to think about, like running her own business, I was more or less brought up by my loving and attentive older sister.

 

My mother, a ‘peppy’ Californian girl had arrived in England desperate to get bedded by the lead singer of one of the world’s top rock bands. She followed them on tour but the closest she ever got to having her way with the singer, was to be part of an orgy that the bass guitarist held in his hotel room. It was after that dispiriting experience she decided she needed to find something else to occupy her time. From being a trainee at a London advertising agency, she quickly rose up through the ranks and within two years was heading her own creative department. A year later and she went solo, taking a whole host of the firm’s client base with her and making an absolute fortune in a very short time. She spent all her time working and had little time for relationships. Julie was the result of her first failed marriage to the boss of the original agency she had worked for – it had lasted 22 months and was a messy divorce. I think the fact she took so many of his clients with her hadn’t helped in the settlement. Her husband, Julie’s father, had wanted nothing to do with his young offspring when the divorce was finalised, so mum was left to bring her up on her own. From an early age Julie was encouraged to be her own person and mum saw her young but determined daughter flourish when given responsibility. On the other hand I was the product of her getting shagged by a young sexy intern.

 

I gather I was created over her office desk by an 18 year-old who, I understood, had just left a local art college. Apparently, mum had taken to him from the moment of his interview. His fine bone structure, his soft flowing blond locks, a gentleness and soft speech that set him apart from all the other young go-getters, really appealed to her. After the experience with her much older first husband, she set her sights on good-looking young men who would satisfy her occasional sexual cravings… and, she being who she was… the boss, got into his pants at the first available opportunity. Mum may have been 15 years older than her sex toy but she was (and is) a fantastic looking woman so I suppose it wasn’t that much of an ordeal for him. I must have been conceived on that very first occasion, mum obviously not taking the correct precautions because, two months later, when she realised she was pregnant, the young intern disappeared from the company pretty quickly. Mum told me many years later that he was a terrific, gentle lover and would have been a fine father, but at his age she knew he couldn’t, and shouldn’t, face such responsibilities and her guilt about using him had made it so he would simply slip into the annuls of history without the knowledge he was a father. His name was Daniel and that is what mum called me.

 

Perhaps another thing you might be interested in knowing is that I was a ‘star’ baby. Mum, always keen to keep an eye on her projects, had bundled me up a few weeks after my birth and had taken me along to an important client’s photo shoot. The photographer thought I was there for the scene and used me instead of the baby who’d been booked for the part. Apparently, even just weeks old, I was a very cheerful and passive baby who seemed to smile and gurgle all the time. I was adorable - according to both my mum and that original photographer. From then on I appeared in TV commercials, my naked bum being lathered with baby oil, wearing the latest disposable nappy or having me sucking in the latest milky formula… I was much in demand. Indeed, up until I was 2 years old I was used to sell every conceivable product for babies and toddlers. I was also the face for a range of baby food and milk products and according to my mum, I was on TV and posters right around the world. Alas, my career was over by the age of two when I was just too overused and a new face was needed. I can’t say it worried me one way or the other. Evidently, I’d been a baby boy or girl, depending on what sex the client wanted, and my sweet cute ‘none-specific gender’ looks meant I was the right image for whatever product they wanted to promote.

 

As a baby I was often mistaken for a girl. People would come up to the pram and goo-goo at my cuteness and say what a gorgeous little girl I was. My blond curly hair not adding much to the image of being a boy and the clothes, all pastel colours, lace and ruffles, contributing to the gender confusion. Although my name was Daniel, ever since I was a baby, Julie always called me Danni (with the emphasis on the ‘a’) and it seems that everyone else followed suit. In fact, I’m told that Julie would correct anyone, even family members, who called me Daniel insisting that I prefer Danni, the truth is I never had a say in anything. My life was pretty much organised by my sister, and to a lesser extent, my mother, so very little male influence ever entered my life. I suppose I was dressed more often as a girl than a boy because Julie was in charge of my wardrobe, so whether it was shorts or a skirt, it was all the same to me as I never knew if one was for a boy or girl. Even my mum’s occasional boyfriends weren’t really bothered, I think all they saw were two young children - both of whom were girls.

 

I remember one of her boyfriends, as always he was young but a bit rougher than her usual ‘type’, who used to ask me to dance for him. Although I was quite shy I had been encouraged to dance by Julie from a very early age, so thought nothing about such a request and I was hoping to please this new man in my mother’s life. He obviously thought of me as a little girl as every time he’d seen me Julie would have me dressed in a rather feminine way. On this one occasion I was about to attend a party organised by my sister, which included her friends and various dolls. I was dressed in a peach coloured satin dress and matching peach ruffled knickers that she had worn to parties when she was my age and thought the ensemble was the perfect festive wear. To me it was all the same, I wore what I was told and at 5 years old, it made no difference to me as I’d been wearing such stuff all my childhood.

However, dressed as I was, and dancing up close to my mother’s boyfriend, he grabbed me and pulled me close up between his legs telling me what a clever little girl I was and how pretty I looked and what a terrific dancer I was. Meanwhile, as I partly danced and partly squirmed about in his ‘loving’ embrace he was tickling me and trying to make me giggle, which I did. Unfortunately, as we were both laughing and ‘enjoying’ the moment I felt myself release a bit of pee. As the tickling continued it was pretty soon a flood and my satin peach-coloured ruffled panties became sopping wet through.

Mum came in wondering what all the laughter was about and saw me wet and wriggling in pure delight.

“He’s always doing that. He loves to play dress up with his sister but…” She noticed I had a damp stain. “Poor boy has got over excited. Come on sweetheart let’s get you sorted out.”

As I left I looked back and he looked stunned. I think it was the first time he knew I was a boy.

When Julie saw the mess on my stained underwear she whisked me away to be changed. This time, and even at 5 years-old, I was nappied and returned to the party in a new clean outfit that barely concealed my new protective plastic pants that rustled noisily as I moved. Again everything matched; they were lace trimmed, like the new blue frilly dress I was wearing (another set of Julie’s old clothes that had never been thrown out and that I now struggled to fit into). Once I was looking pretty and dressed accordingly I was finally allowed back into the fun with her friends where we all sat down to fairy cakes, ice cream and juice… Julie always threw a terrific party.

 

#

 

Danni - Part 2 – Scary boys

 

As I got older all my playmates were Julie’s friends and they were all girls. Up until I went to nursery I’m not sure if I ever had any boys as friends and when I did meet them I was very nervous and scared of their rough ways. I cried an awful lot as a child when I wasn’t at home or with Julie, she was both my friend and protector and I loved her. Whatever she asked me to do I did without question because I knew that Julie was always right and was only thinking of me. At the nursery when I was 4 she once pushed one of the boys in the paddling pool after I told her he’d made me cry by grabbing a doll I wanted to play with. He was the one wet and crying after that and I never had any trouble with him taking my toys again... Julie was fantastic.

 

I didn’t realise that Julie keeping me in nappies until I was six was anything different to anyone else. I wasn’t only a brother to her I was a real live doll who she loved to wash and change and dress up. She was the one who decided my bed times and was brilliant at reading me a story; some she often made up that featured either her or me in heroic situations. Even though I was toilet trained, Julie saw to that, I was regularly still put into nappies and plastic pants. This was partly my fault as at nursery, after lunch we had to have nap-time. All the children lay on little cots with a blanket and told to rest and go to sleep. I was one of half a dozen kids who were so afraid of getting up at these times, so ended up wetting themselves. My shorts and undies would be taken off and put over the radiators or hung out to dry and I was put into a pair of pull-ups or disposable until ready to return home.

 

Even when mum arrived home with some boy’s briefs she’d just bought and told me what a big boy I now was (I was at nursery after all) and that I’d be wearing them from that moment on, it didn’t happen. The following morning the briefs had gone and Julie had found some of her old childhood knickers, which she proceeded to dress me in. I didn’t care; it was all the same to me. I was glad to be out of my nappy as I was the last kid at the nursery still wearing one, but briefs or knickers, it made no difference to me as they were all the same. When I got home from nursery Julie would put me back into a nappy and plastic pants for the night “Just to be safe” she would say although I can never remember having any night time accidents. Although, perhaps I did but just can’t remember. Only once at school did I pee my pants in public and again it was when a boy pushed me over. I cried and pee’d myself at the same time. I didn’t like boys they were always making me cry.

 

Most of my early life was being thankful to be home from school and back with Julie and her friends. They were always nice to me, dressing me up, telling me how sweet I was, and encouraging me to perform for them. Every time I learned anything at school I couldn’t wait to get home and show off. Whether it was a new word, a poem or some fact, I was always so excited to tell my audience of one, Julie, or all her friends if they were around. They always said how clever I was and I loved the fact that they loved and encouraged me so much.

 

On the first day of a new school term I met a boy who I liked. We were both seven and the reason we sort of clicked was because we were both dressed the same. The school didn’t have a uniform as such but, where the other boys were in trousers or jeans, we were the only two boys in grey shorts and we were both wearing yellow polo shirts. We were so alike, even out hairstyles were almost the same that people thought we must be brothers. He said ‘Snap’ to me and I nervously smiled back. He then seemed to stick to me for the rest of the day and we chatted and, for the first time ever, I spent the entire day in another boy’s company and not with the girls. We played together and he wasn’t as rough as I found other boys. He seemed to like the same things I did but had a different way with going about it, whether that was at play or in class. He was definitely the leader of our small group of two and I was happy to follow that lead. By the end of the school day it was weird, all the way home all I could think about was the next day and being with Simon… Simon McKay. That feeling continued every school-day and even at weekend, although I was with Julie and her friends, I kept thinking about Simon and what we’d be doing on Monday… and I couldn’t wait.

 

I became less and less interested in being dressed up. When we did P.E. in class I noticed, when we were changing, that Simon wore different underwear to me. Whereas mine was silky and often flowery, his were just cotton, often with a cartoon picture on the front and I wanted some like him. After a bit of pestering mum eventually bought me some and, as Julie wasn’t around at that time, she gave them straight to me. It was a moment I treasured because from then on they were the only thing I wanted to wear and for the first time in my young life I refused to wear what Julie had organised for me. Often she got my clothes ready for school and she’d put out what she thought I should wear but now I argued and stamped my foot and cried to mum if I couldn’t wear my boy’s cotton underpants. Mum thought I should and I thought I should, it was only Julie that balked against it but she was loosing her influence and from then on, I wore my Simon influenced pants to school every day. I hadn’t fallen out with Julie it was just I didn’t join in her, or her friends, games anymore and she was growing up too, she was now 12, and didn’t need to be looking after her little brother as much.

 

#

 

Danni - Part 3 - Simon

 

One weekend I asked if Simon could come and stay over and mum said that was a terrific idea and that she’d make some cakes (well she actually bought them) and that we’d have a lovely time. We did but on the Sunday mum was called into her office for an emergency meeting and left Julie as usual in charge.

 

It was a lovely warm day and Simon and I had been playing out in the garden. We’d been in and out of a little paddling pool, shooting our water pistols and running around laughing and screaming like lads do when Julie called for us to come in and get ready, as she’d planned a party. We were both dressed only in our shorts, which were sodden because of all the water fun we’d been having so we needed to change. Some of her girlfriends had arrived and it looked like it was going to be a big party as we saw the table being set with loads and loads of scrummy food.

 

As we rushed upstairs to grab a towel and dry off, the girls followed us up to my room. There, laid out on my bed were girl’s clothes. Before either Simon or I knew it, we were being stripped out of our wet shorts and dressed up as I had been when I was younger. I really didn’t mind as it never occurred to me that anything was wrong but Simon fought and kicked. He screamed and cried as he was forced into his disposable nappy and plastic pants but as I didn’t see what the fuss was I allowed myself to be clothed in that fashion.

 

However, it wouldn’t have mattered as the girls were so much bigger and we both ended up dressed as little girls going to a party. Julie had gone to a lot of trouble to have an absolute feast ready, which I loved, but Simon complained and wasn’t going to be “nice” as Julie and her friends put it. However, once he saw that I wasn’t causing an argument he calmed down a bit to snaffle the sandwiches, buns, jelly and ice cream. Julie’s friends were all older now but still seemed to have enjoyed their fun in dressing up two little boys. They were all compliments and praise so before he knew it Simon had forgotten about what he was wearing, just enjoying the food and games that Julie and her chums had organised.

 

The time passed quickly and we were all having fun but then a surprise came when there was a knock on the door - Simon’s mum had arrived early to pick him up. She was shocked to see the type of games we played with him dressed in a girl’s pretty party dress, a bit of make-up, wearing girl’s shoes and socks… and not forgetting a thick nappy and matching plastic pants. Mrs McKay initially appeared speechless as Julie welcomed her in and told her what a delight her son was to have as a guest in her (yes her) house and how he’d been such a good sport joining in my (yes my) dressing up game. There were other parts of the conversation between the two I didn’t quite catch as I went over to Simon initially to take him back up to my room to change.

 

Simon was horrified, standing in the hallway almost scared to say or do anything. He was so shocked that his mother should have seen him dressed as he was he didn’t know what to do or where to put himself. But she was a smart woman and said something to the effect that he looked lovely but there was no time for him to change as they had to get home. Julie handed his mum his rucksack that he’d come with and told her that he’d been playing in the pool and all his clothes were wet. However, she suggested, that if Mrs McKay was in a rush she could take him as he was and return the clothes he was wearing later.

 

She took about 10 seconds to respond and then said “Come on Poppet, we have to be at your Aunty Jean’s later… so we’d better get you home and ready.”

 

A very shy and embarrassed boy dressed in a pink and blue party dress, with matching nappy and frilly plastic pants - Julie was a stickler for making sure everything was co-ordinated - was dumbstruck as his mother held out her hand and gestured they were leaving. He never said any goodbyes, just slowly walked as if he was being led out to the executioner. He was sobbing and reticent to go but his mum gently took his hand and eased him out to the car.

 

We all stood and waved him off and, now in retrospect, I suspect that there was an air of triumph about Julie, a sort of getting back at the boy who had replaced her as the most important person in my life. As I say, I wasn’t aware of such a thought at the time but once Simon was gone I wasn’t in much of a mood to continue playing games but of course Julie and her friends were and insisted that I join in.

 

I was no match on my own to a bunch of demanding, older girls so I complied… like I always did. For me the dressing up game continued as I was stripped and re-clothed in different outfits that the girls had brought along. They thought it great fun to get me to wear items that they had worn at my age… the game went on for hours. Mum didn’t get home until late that night and I ended up going to bed wearing a pale blue, satin, baby-doll nightie one of the girls had brought and a very thick nappy, which seemed to emphasise the billowing nature of the fabric.

 

I was just too shattered to do anything but submit to Julie and her friend’s wishes. They said I looked ‘lovely’ and in all honesty, I wasn’t bothered what I wore so, after kissing and thanking everyone for coming (Julie was a stickler for manners) I said my goodnights and toddled off to bed; the girls saying how nice my silky pale blue knickers looked over my nappy as I climbed the stairs. I think I was a glutton for compliments because I slowed my climb so I could hear more of their praise for how good I looked. Julie came and tucked me in and told me what a nice boy Simon was and how much she liked him and hoped we’d be seeing him again. I fell asleep hugging my teddy bear, thinking about Simon and how good he looked as we’d run around the garden in just our shorts. I couldn’t wait to see him at school the following morning.

 

#

 

Danni - Part 4 – All change for Simon

 

The journey home for Simon hadn’t gone too well. His mum had decided to call in at the supermarket for a few items and despite his protestation she had insisted that he accompany her as she had no intention of leaving him alone in the car. In the store, his young petulance and frustrations led to him being noisy and defiant to his mum’s request for him to behave. His bad behaviour only ended when his mum, who had never done it before, slapped his well-padded bottom and told him to be a good boy. Up until that moment the rest of the shoppers had just thought that the poor frustrated and uptight lady had a misbehaving little daughter to contend with, now they realised ‘she’ was an annoying and disruptive little boy.

 

With the eyes of all the shoppers now on him, Simon was in floods of embarrassed tears, especially when he was gawped at by a bunch of kids his own age who were all laughing at him and pointing at his obvious nappy, which was showing beneath his dress. Mrs McKay was still a bit angry with her son but finished her shopping with a thoroughly chastised and sobbing, though acquiescent, little boy in a dress following her around. She pointed out to him that if he hadn’t been acting up no one would have been any the wiser. Unfortunately for Simon the humiliation didn’t stop once they left the store, his mother had decided to go directly to visit her sister Jean so her son was even more horrified when they pulled up outside her house.

 

Once again, he sulkily refused to leave the car but his mother, in a tone that was in no way ambiguous, told him that she’d make him wear girl’s clothes all the time if he started acting up again. The weeping Simon was almost dragged out of the car and into his auntie’s home where he sat sullenly while his mum and her sister caught up on all the gossip. His thick nappy and plastic pants were difficult to hide as his dress rode up and he shuffled around in his seat impatiently hoping for a quick end to this visit.

 

Aunty Jean herself was a bit shocked to begin with but after her sister had told her what had happened she simply said that her nephew ‘looked very nice’. She was very encouraging and in fact, she wondered if this wasn’t an opportunity for her sister to have the daughter she always wanted – even if only for just a short time. The sister’s were on the same wave-length because that was exactly what his mother thought and was determined to have her ‘little girl’ for as long as she could.

 

Strange that it had never occurred to her before to simply dress her son up but now, thanks to Simon’s friend Danni, who appeared to enjoy dressing that way, she might be able to dress him herself… when she felt the need to have a ‘daughter’ around. She appreciated that he would take quite a bit of training to achieve that but, it looked like a start had been made and was sure that with time she could mould her son into occasionally being the daughter she’d always wanted. The trip to the supermarket had been the beginning as she bought a whole batch of disposable nappies and protecting pants. She also found some sweet girlie clothes and pyjamas that she thought would look really nice on him.

 

Simon’s young life changed on that day and Mrs McKay… well she’d never been happier. After initial tears, tantrums and childish defiance was met by a far more steely and authorative attitude from his mother, Simon soon learned that disobedience was a painful option and meant longer dressed as a little girl in a nappy so eventually, because it made his mother happy, he did as he was told.

 

Unfortunately, for Simon/Simone the periods of time as a girl got longer and longer as his wardrobe of pretty clothes his mother enjoyed buying got larger and larger. As all the boyish things; his clothes and toys, got replaced it soon became apparent to Mrs McKay that she couldn’t keep her son at the same school so, decided to teach him herself. From that moment on it was Simone, her daughter, who played with other little girls in the garden. No boys allowed, not even young Danni, which she regretted but thought that he held too many memories for her son… now that he was ‘happy’ as a girl.

 

#

 

Danni – Part 5 – Return of the boy toy

 

I didn’t see Simon again, the teacher said that his mum was now home-schooling him, which greatly upset me. I still found it difficult to make friends with others in class so I immersed myself in painting and music. I tried to learn to play the recorder, which Julie said was an instrument of torture when I tried to practice in my bedroom. Often, if she was around, she would distract me with one of her games and even though I was getting older, she still had me dressed either in some of her old clothes or in a nappy so she and her friends could practice changing me and in so doing become ‘good mummies’ for when they had babies of their own. My rebellious streak had disappeared as quickly as Simon and my ‘big boy briefs’ and it was back to normal in our household.

 

Julie redoubled her insistence that at night I was to wear protection. She even doubled the thickness of my nappy and I found bedtime a bit of an ordeal but she wouldn’t let me wear pyjamas; a thick nappy and plastic pants were all I was allowed with an occasional t-shirt if I was lucky. In retrospect I was being punished but of course, all the ‘love’ and ‘attention’ she was lavishing on me was for her benefit. She even told mum that I’d begun to wet the bed again, “No doubt caused by the stress of school”, she added sympathetically, so my dear mother didn’t object to me being put to bed dressed the way I was. She believed anything that Julie said, and why shouldn’t she, her daughter had more of less brought me up so why would she possibly lie.

 

One night I did wet myself, having been given a huge glass of cola just before I went to bed. Julie had come into my room, checked on my nappy, felt that I was wet and had slipped away pretending she didn’t know. Somehow she’d managed to get mum to check on me so she was able to discover for herself why her son needed to keep his protection on at night. I couldn’t deny I had wet myself, so I couldn’t fight what was coming next.

 

Mum, Julie and I went shopping for new summer clothes. I was quite excited as I thought I’d get to choose a new outfit and I’d seen some of the boys in class wearing t-shirts with action figures on that I liked. In fact, the film that the characters were from had spawned a huge range of clothing for boys and girls and I hoped that mum would buy me some.

 

Julie had got me ready and insisted that I now wear a nappy when we were out, as she said, “Just to be on the safe side.” I was relieved that she hadn’t made me wear a dress but there was absolutely no doubt what I had on under my shorts. The bulge and the fact that my shorts were very short so my nappy and plastic pants could easily be seen broadcast to everyone who was interested that I was a seven year-old (almost 8) who still wet himself.

 

We visited a big, out-of-town mall so that mum could do all her shopping in one place. I stayed with mum as she looked around for clothes to buy for herself and no matter how much I tried to ask for things, the answer was always “Later” or “Maybe” or “Let’s wait for Julie”. Meanwhile, Julie was secretly buying stuff for me. She just filled up the trolley with the items she wanted, no matter what it was, and mum would just pay for it, such was the trust mum had with her. At one point I think mum had got so fed up with me whinging on about a new t-shirt with the film character on it, she relented and bought it for me. I was so excited and grateful I didn’t complain for the rest of the visit.

 

The mall was quite busy and we were there for a long time. I noticed other kids sniggering and pointing to my nappy hanging down from my shorts but there was nothing I could do about it and I noticed Julie was smiling at every comment. When I asked mum if I could go to the toilet she said it was miles away from where we were so, why didn’t I use the nappy as that’s what it was designed for. I was shocked at such an idea but Julie was in agreement with mum and after trying to keep it in for ages, in the end I just couldn’t any longer. I was waiting in line at the cash register when I felt the first involuntary spurt but once it started I couldn’t hold back and I flooded my nappy, which seemed to swell in my shorts. Thankfully, the plastic pants seemed to act as a barrier and my shorts gave no indication of what I’d done. However, once we’d passed the checkout Julie noticed I was walking differently and without asking, she pulled down my shorts and checked my nappy.  

 

“Ughhh, Danni’s wet himself again,” she said. “Don’t worry I’ll change him.”

 

Mum smiled her thanks and Julie gripped my hand, grabbed one of the bags and dragged me to a toilet opposite where we were. If I’d know I could have easily made it that far but I didn’t and now it was just too convenient for Julie. There was a baby’s changing room attached and there were two or three mothers in their taking care of their young off-spring. They were babies or toddlers and I was by far the eldest but that didn’t stop Julie picking me up, despite my protest, and laying me out on the plastic foam table. I was telling her it could wait until we got home but she was adamant that I was to be changed there and then. Of course, stupidly I had thought that we hadn’t brought any extra nappies with us, and of course we hadn’t, but she had been busy buying and I now found out what was in the bags.

 

I was acting up and the fact that there was an audience didn’t stop me shouting that I didn’t want to be changed. I saw the sympathy on the faces of the other mother’s as this ‘poor young girl’ had to deal with this objectionable, noisy, belligerent boy… who she was only trying to clean-up and make dry. However, when Julie said that I’d get smacked if I didn’t calm down and let her get on with it, I could tell from the way she was looking at me that I’d better not push her. The defiance left me as her determined face left me in no doubt that any more disruption, argument or noise would result in a smack. The second I gave in she whipped off my shorts, pulled down the plastic pants and released my soaked nappy. The cool air rushing about my boyish ‘willie’ felt peculiar after the warm embrace of my pee-filled protection, however, as she opened a carton of wet-wipes and proceeded to clean me - front and back she was not interested in my obvious humiliation.

 

Julie realised she had no powder and asked a nearby lady, who was just finishing sprinkling some over her baby girl, if she could spare some. The woman smiled and handed it to her, which was followed by a few of the other women offering help. Lotion, oil and extra padding were all offered and she happily took the lot. Thanking everyone and saying how kind they all were, helping her and her ‘unfortunate incontinent brother’. I didn’t know at the time what the word meant but the women’s look of pity on my sister told me I’d either been very naughty, or they thought she was some kind of martyr.

 

Some of the mothers had left but one or two hung around just in case she needed any further help. However, she couldn’t have planned it better as she pulled out a huge terry nappy, folded it into a triangle and placed it under my well powdered bottom. Then seeing that she had two thick absorbent pads that had been given to her by the mums still milling around she folded them into the nappy and pulled the entire thing up between my legs.  It was huge and spread my legs far apart but she wasn’t finished. The plastic pants were retrieved from the soggy pile and, with some difficulty, pulled into place.

 

Now she pulled off my top and fed my arms into a new, clean t-shirt she produced from her bag. She pulled it down and only when it was in place did I notice the childish images of animals all over it. I was about to protest but I noticed that look in her eye and held my tongue. Suddenly she was fastening some press-studs between my legs and I was wearing, what looked to me when I saw my reflection in the mirror, like a large baby-grow. This was too much and I started screaming and shouting at her. There was only one mum left and she was exiting as I started acting up. With a look of absolute malice Julie threw my soggy nappy and shorts into the bin, dragged me to my feet, spanked my padded bum and in no uncertain terms told me to behave.

 

Although it didn’t hurt I was in shock, in all the time we’d been brother and sister she had hardly so much as raised her voice to me. This sudden turn of events cowed me completely and I meekly did what she wanted. She told me to agree with anything she said to mum or she’d spank my bare bottom when we got home. So, there I was, in a mall, in a thick, thick nappy and looking more babyish than I ever remember when I was a baby and my sister was looking pleased with herself. She told my mother that there had been loads of mothers changing their children in the room and things had got misplaced or taken in the confusion. My shorts and top had gone missing but thankfully a couple of the women had helped and offered some items they had… so that was how I ended up looking the way I did. 

 

The way Julie told the tale it all sounded so plausible. I’m not sure how much, or if indeed any of it she believed, but mum said she was just thankful that I’d been dressed in something. However, I was led through the mall, waddling with difficulty in my extremely bulky nappy and wearing baby clothes. Julie was holding tightly onto my hand and occasionally whispering threats to me if I didn’t stop looking so miserable. It was difficult to be cheerful and I suppose, not surprisingly, I started to sob. I think this little touch added to my babyishness and was the cherry on the cake for Julie.

 

#

 

Danni – Part 6 – Crime and Punishment

 

Being brought up by Julie had made me the boy I was. I wasn’t one for games, in fact, other than with Simon I had hardly played with any other boys of my age. They scared me and with Julie’s protection, I’d never needed to toughen up. Some might say I was lucky to have such a sister, and indeed, I never thought anything other than that but, as we both got older it was as if she didn’t want me to grow up.

 

She was making things up that I did or didn’t do when she spoke to mum, and mum, being mum, believed everything she said or suggested. It wasn’t that mum wasn’t bothered it was just that she’d left me in Julie’s hands for so long, she had no idea how I should be. If I complained to her about having to wear something she always made me remember how much I’d enjoyed dressing up before. When I think about it, I always did have a smile on my face as me and Julie had played her dressing-up games. I didn’t know any better but mum now saw it as “Just the way you are”. I think she thought it was what I wanted and I liked all that kind of thing; being dressed as a girl or being babied by all her friends. In many ways I suppose I did, or at least it never worried me but, I’d begun to want the same as what the boys at school had.

 

At school I was introduced to the choir and found that I loved singing in assembly as much as I’d enjoyed singing in front of Julie and her chums. The teachers thought I was very good and began to offer me more and more songs to take the lead on. I was very nervous about being pushed forward but Miss Simms, the music teacher gently coaxed me and, perhaps because she was a woman, I did as I was told. It was OK if I was surrounded by the rest of the choir and I was just one amongst a group but when I had my solo I became quite scared. I’m not sure why but it was worse if mum or Julie were watching and on one occasion I peed my pants centre stage. Julie saw what I’d done and because of the sudden appearance of a wet spot on the front of my shorts she leapt into action. Even before Miss Simms could come to my assistance Julie was up on the stage and gently leading me off, her words full of sympathy, but her firm grip telling me otherwise.

 

How she knew what would happen I do not know but I was led to a classroom, my shorts and briefs taken down and she rummaged in her schoolbag and produced a disposable nappy. She had no powder or lotions this time but just wrapped me in it, pulled it up between my legs, fastened the sticky tabs in place and yanked me to my feet. A few fellow pupils had gathered in the doorway to watch the proceedings and Miss Simms was trying to get through the cordon. I could see the sympathy in her eyes but Julie just said that she wasn’t to worry, no one blamed her for my distress and that she was sure no real harm was done. Miss Simms was taken aback at this slight but as Julie had already grabbed my hand and was ushering me away from the cluster of kids (and associated parents) she hadn’t formulated a response as Julie hurried me to mother’s car waiting to pick us up.

 

It was my moment of achievement… something I’d done without Julie… or mum and I’d wet myself. I was crying as we got into the car and mum was wondering what had happened. A very empathetic Julie explained how I was ‘brilliant’ and was singing ‘beautifully’, when I just peed myself. Again, all the words she said sounded like she was so sorry for me but I knew that she loved every minute of my humiliation. As I sat down she even apologised to mum that she hadn’t got any plastic pants for me to wear to protect the car seat… and suggested that in future we should all carry a spare pair for just such emergencies. Mum just nodded to Julie, tried to cheer me up with the offer of ice cream, tickled me under the chin and told me that I was her ‘special little boy’.

 

I was sobbing quietly in the back seat with Julie gently stroking my hand and telling me not to worry, and that lots of boys my age had these accidents. Fine soothing words for her but quite terrifying for me as it gave her another excuse to keep me in nappies. It also meant that from that moment on Julie would insist that I wear protection for school, as, she explained to mum, she didn’t see why the teachers should have to deal with my ‘damp spells’.  Again mum nodded in agreement and Julie suggested that we call in and get some suitable protection on the way home. As we pulled into the shopping centre car park I didn’t want to get out but both mum and Julie were adamant I couldn’t sit there alone. I weepily suggested that Julie stayed with me but she said that she had things she wanted to buy. There was no way round it… I walked into the pharmacy and to the nappy section wearing my bright and dry disposable. There was absolutely no doubt as to what we were there to buy.

 

Julie found a huge case of pull-ups about my size and took them over to mum. She also found some cloth nappies, pins and a couple of pairs of colourful plastic pants. She added tubs of baby powder and lotion. I was filled with embarrassment and had my eyes glued to the ground throughout the entire proceedings. Even at the cash desk, as mum paid and Julie held all the products, I couldn’t look at the teenage lad who was on check out as I was certain he would be laughing at me. Just before he rang through the pull-ups he asked mum if she wanted to change them as they were for young girls, they had cartoon princesses all over them, apparently, there were some with cars on for little boys. But an exasperated sound came from Julie who was already on her way out with the rest of the stuff so mum just shrugged and the lad beeped them through.

 

Mum had said that we were going to get ice cream but I hadn’t thought she meant in a public place and as we drove into the café that was my favourite location because of its selection of flavours I began to cry again saying I didn’t now want any ice cream. Mum was about to turn around but Julie said that even if I didn’t she would like some and also implied I was lying and that I was just being silly.

 

“What little boy didn’t want ice cream?” The fact was I did but not dressed as I was.

 

Julie was very quick. “Is it because you’re only wearing a disposable?” I nodded. “Would you be OK if we put you in something else?” Again I nodded almost beginning to cheer up at the prospect of the big sundae I was planning on treating myself to. “OK then, that’s what we’ll do.”

 

So as mum went off to order our tasty treats Julie set about changing me in the back of the car. I was relieved when the disposable came off and she wiped me dry with some of the wipes we’d just bought. She powdered me and was all ‘loving’ and ‘sweet’ as she massaged it in, then she delved into the case of pull-ups and unfurled it. At that moment I wasn’t thinking about the image on it, all I knew was that it was more like wearing underpants than a nappy, but once I was in them she opened the door and dragged me out. I was standing wearing just a pair of princess pull-ups and a white school polo shirt.

 

“There,” she said triumphantly, “fit for a… prince… ess” and led me to the café.

 

She gave me that grip and a very stern warning not to upset mum by acting up or crying and said that if I did she would spank me herself when we got home… and… she inferred… after today’s performance and the expense and the embarrassment to her and mum… no doubt mum would spank me too.

 

The café was full of kids all enjoying their selection of fruity flavours and I was just another tasty morsel that they could enjoy by laughing and tittering as I walked by. It was the worst, and longest, ice cream I’d ever had and I did cry and… wet myself. Needless to say, Julie pointed this out to mum and, as I was bawling my eyes out, it was agreed that I was getting worse and perhaps stronger protection may be needed. The princesses, not able to withstand my soggy torrent, meant I had to ride back home in a very wet pull-up.

 

#

 

 

Danni – Part 7 – Julie’s Power

 

There was no doubt about it, Julie had me cowed and I was at her bidding no matter what.  She encouraged me to sing in the choir but warned me against Miss Simms placing too much pressure on me (she had said it was the pressure to perform that had made me wet myself, and I believed her). She told me that boys would only take advantage of my sweet temperament (her words) so basically the only person who was looking out for me was her. She kept going on about when I was a baby how much fun I was, how much I enjoyed the games we played and how much I liked being looked after. She thought because of all the ‘trauma’ of growing up and the ‘problems’ it was causing, she should let me be a “baby” again. It was a time she said I was happiest. I somehow knew that all the ‘trauma’ and ‘problems’ were as a result of the way she treated me but I wasn’t able to offer much in the way of  resistance and that meant I was back to being her baby… her toy.

 

I was wearing nappies or pull-ups permanently – for bed, for school, for trips, for, well everything. I had given up fighting Julie she was a force I could not defeat and I wasn’t equipped for battle, I just gave in and did what she wanted. After all, I had no real say in what was going on, it kept her in a good mood and mum seemed happy that my ‘problem’ was now well contained. I was so compliant, and mum so comfortable with the way things currently existed, she even patted my well-padded bottom before we went anywhere and smiled contentedly that everything was ‘okay’. I took it as natural; this was how it was meant to be even if all the other kids in my class didn’t wear nappies and such. Julie said that the reason I did was because I was ‘special’, that I was better than any of the other kids because I had a loving sister who only wanted the very best for her sweet little baby brother.

 

In my own small way I did try to rebel because I didn’t like to wear a wet nappy. When she wasn’t around I always made it to the bathroom in time by sliding my hand up my shorts, struggling valiantly with the padding before pulling out my willy and doing what I had to do in the toilet. Not having a wet nappy when she checked me was a small victory but I think it annoyed her slightly.

 

However, one day we were playing in the park and I needed to go so I suggested a game of hide and seek. The idea was that I would hide first; she would count to 50 and then attempt to find me. Cleverly, I thought, I could quickly hide behind a bush, release my willy and do it before she came and found where I was hiding. Alas, I struggled longer than I thought with the tight fitting nappy and as I nervously peed into the bushes she came up behind me.

 

“You naughty, dirty boy,” she screamed… and I froze in mid flow. “In public, how disgusting.” She grabbed my arm, pulled down my pants and nappy and spanked me hard on my bare bottom.

 

This time it did hurt and my pleading and screaming I was sorry was having no effect as she reddened my bum cheeks. It was all over in a matter of seconds but I was crying for real and she had managed to make me feel terribly ashamed of myself. I was still crying as she removed my t-shirt and I was led naked back to our blanket on the ground where we’d been picnicking. People were looking but no one said anything as she lay me out and re-fitted the old disposable I had been wearing. She pulled it tight and taped me firmly in place then she did something I will never forget – she poured a whole can of fizzy orange juice down the front. I couldn’t stop her and as the nappy absorbed the liquid, the thing expanded and changed from white to a very obvious pale orange. It felt massive between my legs - it was also cold, sticky, wet and it set me off crying even more.

 

“You’ve been a very dirty… naughty… disgusting boy.” She threatened as I sat wondering what I was going to do. “This will be your punishment until we get home so everyone can see just what a naughty, dirty little baby brother I have.”

 

I was both ashamed and inconsolable because she’d made me feel that it was my fault that I had made her do what she’d done and that of course, it was for my own good. I had to learn to be “a good obedient little boy”.

 

Walking the half mile or so home she wouldn’t let me wear anything but the messy orange nappy. It wasn’t very nice to walk in and of course I was waddling trying to keep up as she all but dragged me home. At the door she told me in no uncertain terms that mum would be furious about my shameful peeing in public and that she wouldn’t be at all surprised if she also spanked me. I was terrified of entering my own home. Of course I had to promise to be good, do exactly as I was told and, more importantly, use the nappy when I needed to go. She said she wouldn’t tell mum about what I’d done if I agreed and ‘swore an oath.’ I wasn’t sure what that was but as she said it was the most solemn promise, that even God would punish if I broke, it was the only thing she said that would stop her from telling mum. Of course I agreed and repeated the oath that Julie made me swear ‘on my life’ to uphold. Once through the door mum wondered why I’d been crying and why was I only wearing a very soggy nappy. Julie looked down at me and said it was another one of my ‘accidents’ and that she didn’t have a spare disposable to change me and she didn’t want all my other clothes to get messy. Mum looked pitifully at me and I saw sympathy in her eyes.

 

“You poor little thing.” She hugged me to her. “Never mind, you are home now… I’ll take care of you.”

 

Julie tried to intervene. “It’s OK mum, I’ll see to him,” she seemed a little worried that her orange scam might be found out. “I have a fresh nappy in my room for him…”

 

“You do enough Julie,” mum said taking hold of my hand and leading me upstairs. “I think I’ll change my sweet boy.”

 

Julie was left to worry about any possible outcome but she should have been confident in her powers and influence over me as I never said a word against her as mum cleaned me up. As my room was now, thanks to Julie, more or less a nursery, all there was lying around were pull-ups or disposables (my thick cloth nappies Julie always kept in my underwear draw - or what had once been my underwear draw). So mum, still thinking I had a wetting problem, cleaned me up, powdered me and fitted me into a clean and tight disposable, and asked if I was okay. My tears had stopped but my bottom still smarted from Julie smacks so I just nodded. She wondered if I wanted to take a nap as I looked worn out. I wasn’t tired but I thought it might be best if I hid myself away for a little while so as mum tucked me in I gave her a kiss and said I was sorry.

 

“It’s OK sweetheart,” she whispered back, “It’s not your fault, accidents happen. You just have a nap and then things won’t seem so bad.”

 

Everything seemed nice when mum was like this but I still couldn’t tell her anything, after all, I just sworn an oath, on pain of my death, if I revealed just what had actually happened. No Julie had me and I was now, if I was in any doubt, completely under her control.

 

Over the next few weeks Julie upped her game. Her idea for my clothing was a thick nappy, pink or blue plastic pants and tiny shorts that gave no hiding place for my protection. For bed she had me thickly nappied, often wearing a footed onesie that had a zip up the back (so I couldn’t remove it even if I’d wanted to), which had been a surprising addition to my wardrobe, as had a short onesie that fastened with press studs between my legs. Where these items had appeared from I didn’t know but I had expertly been returned to my infanthood even though my eighth birthday was rapidly approaching.

 

My loving sister had got me all excited about my birthday. She said she had planned a party for me and wondered if there was anyone special who I’d like to invite. I told her Simon if she could get an invitation to him. She enthused back that she was positive he’d love to come and she’d make an extra effort to ensure he received his invite. She even had me write a special ‘please come’ on the bottom of his card, which I then watched her drop in the post box.

 

#

 

Danni – Part 8 – Birthday Surprises

 

The morning of my birthday I woke up very excited and, to Julie’s obvious pleasure, completely soaked. She unzipped and let me out of my onesie but left me in my soggy nappy whilst she went off to get something. She’d been doing this a few times now and I hadn’t realised what was going on. However, I now noticed that when she left mum would come in, see the drooping nappy, look sympathetically at me but it would also confirm all that my sister had been telling her about her continually wetting little baby brother. Then we’d cuddle, she’d murmur some soothing words, while I felt like a guilty little toddler who’d let her down. Julie would then breeze back in armed with whatever she’d decided I was to wear, whilst I would be too embarrassed to protest and mum would leave her to get me ready for the day ahead.

 

It wasn’t really surprising that I was waking up wet more and more often as Julie had been feeding me warm drinks last thing at night whilst she told me stories. I have to admit that this was one of the things I really did enjoy, when she made up stories that had me in the starring role. I’d be enthralled but she would say that I had to finish my drink if I wanted her to continue and, before I knew it vast amounts of some wonderfully flavoured liquid would have been consumed. My bedtime was seven o’clock, this was one of my sister’s rulings, as she decreed little boys need their sleep and, because I nearly always got a story and something sweet to drink, I was happy to comply.

 

Mum would often stand at the doorway and listen to the tales that Julie told and she’d see me in my bed, smiling and enthusing about some aspect of the story, so she witnessed herself that all was well. I think it was at these moments when, whatever doubts she might have had about me being in anyway unhappy about my ‘situation’, they were alleviated by what she saw as the ‘wonderful and loving’ interaction between her daughter and her obviously consenting son. There was undoubtedly more times than not when I thought Julie was the cleverest and most thoughtful person in the world and these especially were just such times when I loved my sister.

 

I also loved Saturday mornings when my favourite TV programme was on, a cartoon about Greek heroes, which I found really fascinating. I was so keen on these historical adventures that Julie had been able to adapt some of them in her stories so that Hercules and I could battle together, or I’d be part of Jason and the Argonauts crew. She was very good at getting me participating, and being a major force, in these myths and legends. I was often so engrossed in what was on the screen that I regularly ended up watching in just a damp nappy before being dressed appropriately. On that point I have to say it was not an issue anymore - I was used to it, mum was used to it and Julie made sure I didn’t make a mess or act-up (and repeatedly said that it was ‘just the way I am’ to mum). Not that I would dare to act-up because just one of her ‘looks’ would have had me shrinking from any form of argument. Having said that, it all became natural and normal, what was expected so how could I object to it anyway? It was just the way it was in our house, much the same as it was for whatever way Julie decided to have me dressed. Even on this day as an 8 year-old (yeah my birthday), I was left to run around the house wearing only my thick pull-ups with the cartoon princess on the front. Mum said I could open my cards and presents that had already been delivered before my party got underway later in the afternoon. Earlier in the week mum had asked if I wanted anything special and, as I’d been playing around on the piano at school during choir practice, I asked for a little keyboard.

 

After breakfast I rushed from the kitchen into the living room where mum’s present was. The place was full of balloons wishing me a Happy Birthday and there were some cards waiting, a few wrapped gifts but the main one was surrounded by a huge gold bow. Excitedly I pulled at the wonderful decoration, which revealed a small, but expensive looking, electric piano. I couldn’t believe that mum had got me such a fine instrument and couldn’t wait to try it out. We plugged it in and I promptly played a few bars from a song we’d been learning in class. Mum was amazed at how well I could play. In fact, it was something I’d only recently found out myself… that I could pick out notes on the piano then Miss Simms showed me the chords. Pretty soon, once I’d heard a tune or song, I could pick it up very quickly and loved being able to do so. I didn’t realise that I had a talent as it was something that just came naturally. I hugged mum with thanks - I was so happy I wriggled joyfully in her embrace as she patted my padded bum and kissed the top of my head. Julie said that I wasn’t going to get her present until the party, which I thought was typical of her, keeping me on the verge of excitement, wondering what it could be. She didn’t let on.

 

About noon the caterers came to set up for the party. Mum and Julie had been planning a Superheroes theme (although I didn’t know that at the time) and my organising sister had been on the phone almost permanently sorting things out. I’d heard clips of conversation but as soon as she saw that I was in earshot she whispered so I couldn‘t hear or hung up. It was all very secretive and I was getting very excited indeed. After watching my TV programme (about Zeus) I played on my new piano and was surprised at being able to make stuff up that sounded, to me at least, quite good. As the caterers began to set out the tables under an awning in the garden Julie ushered me upstairs out of the way. She ran a bath and filled it full of bubbles. Now, ever since I was a baby I have just loved bubbles and enjoyed hiding and playing in amongst them whilst I was bathed by either her or mum. Even if I was in the park and another kid was blowing bubbles you’d find me chasing after them, popping each as I tried to capture them. It was one of those things that Julie always knew to do if I was in a mood (which was rarely) or wanted to keep me entertained. Yeah Bubbles!

 

She helped me out of my surprisingly damp pull-ups and lifted me into the foam. I sat in the bath and I piled bubbles all over my head, made beards, pretended it was thick fog and my toy boats had to manoeuvre their way through the ‘mists’ and ‘icebergs’. I was having fun and must have been in there for quite some time as it was relatively cool when eventually Julie, who had left me to it whilst she went off to ‘supervise’ (her word) the caterers, returned with a thick towel. Although I was quite capable of doing things for myself, if she was around, then she was in charge and I acquiesced and let her get on with it. She thoroughly rubbed me dry, covered me in lotion and massaged it in and then finally added a comprehensive sprinkling of powder to all my ‘boy’ parts. She wrapped me in the towel and I was guided to my room where she had prepared a surprise.

 

“Happy Birthday,” she sang as I became aware of just what she’d done. Laid out on my bed was a short tunic with gold braid.

 

I was flabbergasted. I couldn’t believe it. She continued, “This is my present,” she looked at my awestruck expression, “I know how much you like this stuff… so I thought I’d get you something special.”

 

I hugged my sister so tightly and I have to say there were tears of joy in my eyes as I thanked her but I was speechless. She held me until she thought I’d calmed down a bit then suggested that I try it on and get ready to receive my guests. I was spellbound. First she fastened me firmly into a white disposable, which I never gave a second thought about, then over that she pulled a shiny gold coloured nappy cover and checked that it fit nice and snug. Next she fitted the little white silky tunic around my waist and fed my arm through a shoulder strap. The material was soft and shiny with loads of pleats making it look like a short kilt. There was gold braiding along the edges, which appeared to match my new ‘underwear’. It made me feel really very special. I looked in the mirror once she’d finished checking that everything was in order and couldn’t believe it – I was dressed just like my hero Jason from the TV programme. She’d even got me a pair of gold sandals that fastened up my legs and to top it off, she added a gold laurel wreath for my hair. I’d been transformed from me… into a real Greek hero and I just could not believe how proud and courageous I felt.

 

As I hugged and thanked my thoughtful sister again and again, she just gleefully patted my nicely padded bottom and said she was so glad I liked it and was what I deserved for being “…the best little baby brother in the world.” She’d also thoughtfully found a huge poster of Jason and the Argonauts from the TV series, which she said she’d hang up for me later, and who, apart from a small sword hanging from his waist, was dressed exactly like me. I twirled in front of the mirror. The gold sparkled, the shiny material glistened and even the new gold ‘protection’ shimmered and complemented the mythical look. The final thing was a little gold rope sash that was tightened around my waist, I thought I looked as good as Jason and wished I could join him and his men on one of their fantastic journeys. Julie nodded her approval as I spun and danced with joy.

 

My party was in full swing. Nearly all my class mates, both boys and girls had come, as well as Julie’s girlfriends who after all I’d known all my life. It was these older girls who organised and supervised the games, the music and the fun. Most of the boys who came wore some form of fancy dress; super-heroes, cowboys, robots etc, whilst a few of the girls had also dressed as cartoon characters or animals. We all looked fantastic as we charged around the garden and I loved the way my costume hung from my shoulder, the material soft and looking completely unique. I was enjoying having something so special that had been made especially for me and was constantly imagining myself back in mythological times and being the favourite of one of the Athenian gods.

 

One of the last people to arrive was Simon. At first I didn’t recognise him as he stood at the door gripping his mother’s hand. In fact, it was only because I recognised Mrs McKay that it quickly dawned on me who this nervous little girl was who held on to her so tightly. His hair was so much longer, he kept his eyes cast down in a shy, nervous kind of way and tried not to look at me.

 

Mrs McKay was all smiles, “Wish Danni a Happy Birthday poppet.” He wriggled uncertainly as he clutched his mum with one hand and held a gift in the other. “Happy Birthday,” she continued before he son could say anything. “My you do look pretty Danni, is that a special birthday outfit you’re wearing?”

 

I nodded as I took in the way Simon was dressed, he looked like a little girl. His jumper was pink with a large blue and pink butterfly on the front. His shorts were pale pink and covered in a blue and yellow butterfly design, which were held up with two matching straps over his shoulders that crossed at the back. His pink socks had ruffles at the ankle and he wore pink plastic sandals, which he nervously scuffed along the floor. I took all this in as he timidly whispered his “Happy Birthday” and offered me his gift.

 

“Hello Si… erm…” I wasn’t sure what to call him but I went ahead anyway. “Hello Simon I’m so glad you could make it.”

 

He looked up hesitantly and there was a fleeting smile. I held out my hand for him to take. “C’mon let’s get to the party.”

 

He checked with his mother to make sure it was OK.  She released his hand. “Enjoy yourself poppet… try not to make a mess of your clothes… go and join your friends.”

 

Simon was definitely not the boisterous little lad who had played with me on that sunny weekend all those weeks ago. He walked slowly and hesitantly into the crowd and seemed relieved that none of his former school friends appeared to recognise him. He stuck close to me throughout the party but didn’t join in any of the games. It was strange that all the other boys ignored him but the girls wanted him to be in their group. He looked quite fearful when Julie and her friends came over to say ‘hello’.

 

“Hello Simone,” they chorused. “You do look pretty.” “Love the butterflies.” “What lovely hair” and a host of similar comments interspersed with giggles. He had shut his eyes to what was being said and looked like he was on the verge of tears. I took him away from everyone and asked him what was wrong.

 

“Mum likes me better as a girl,” he sobbed. “Since Julie and her friends dressed me up,” he paused as he wiped the snot from his nose, “mum won’t let me be a boy. I have to wear girl’s clothes”

 

I tried to calm him but I didn’t have much to say. He looked at the shiny tunic I was wearing and said. “She’s done it to you as well…”

 

At no point had I thought what I was wearing was anything but heroic. Jason and loads of Greek heroes wore similar things but his comment jolted my image of myself. He put his hand on my padded bum.

 

“I have to wear knickers now… and… and…” He was still trying to get it out between sobs, “and sleep in a… a nappy and… a… a… nightie.” He buried his face in the crook of his arm and tried to hold back more tears.

 

It was obviously upsetting the poor boy but alas to me none of this seemed a hardship as I’d been living like that all my life. However, I could see he was distressed so I hugged him close. Then in the quietest of voices he confessed he hadn’t wanted to come as he was scared of Julie and her friends and what they might do or say. However, his mum thought it was time he should be out and about (whether he wanted to or not) and had insisted he came. He said he was glad to see me again.

 

He pulled at his tight-fitting butterfly shorts and said he wished he could wear his old briefs as the lacy ones he had to wear rode up and were so uncomfortable. I had liked it when I first met Simon and we’d charged around in just our shorts and had water-pistol fights and got ourselves thoroughly wet through, but I liked him now as well, it made no difference to me how he dressed and I told him so. I said I thought he looked nice. There was a faint smile from him and he seemed to become a bit more confident as we looked each other over. He rubbed the front of my shiny golden nappy and whispered that he thought I looked like “that Greek hero off the TV”, which brought a huge grin and a twirl from me.

 

#

 

 

Danni – Part 9 – More Surprises

 

 

Simon’s fear of Julie had got me thinking about just how cruel she could be sometimes. I had just accepted my circumstances and figured that’s what older sisters were like. I had no experience of others being different as all her friends were exactly the same in treating me like she did. I was their toy and now Simon was his mother’s toy and I wondered if all females were like that. However, Julie had made up fantastic stories for me, she had got this brilliant tunic as a special present, she’d even organised my marvellous party so, how could I be too upset with her? Wearing a nappy wasn’t so bad, although the embarrassment that went with it often was but, Julie… oh… I wasn’t sure what to think.

 

Once I thought Simon had calmed down enough and wiped away his tears we returned to the party. There was a bouncy castle, a DJ, a juggler and my favourite, a young man who made the most enormous bubbles. He created the biggest I’d ever seen and he was able to put bubbles inside of other bubbles inside… well… he had me clapping wildly at some of the fabulous soapy things he created. The food was really very yummy and we piled into the ice-cream cake so that there was very little left by the end. The older girls organised several little teams and we had games against each other. Simon stayed with me the whole time and eventually relaxed enough to enjoy himself. I knew clothes were no barrier to that but I felt sorry for him as he was continually pulling at the crotch of his shorts trying to make his knickers more comfortable. Meanwhile, I’d never been happier, my nappy and cover were so comfortable and my tunic so fine and light to wear, it was if I had nothing on. Julie’s friend Annabel took loads of photographs of ‘Superman’ and ‘the Hulk’ on the bouncy castle with ‘Snow White’ and ‘Micky Mouse’ or me as ‘Jason’ leaping around with ‘Godzilla’, it was all super fun and she even got a photograph of  all us Super Heroes together in one huge shot.

 

Simon had become known as ‘The Butterfly Girl’ and he was constantly being called that if anyone wanted to get his attention. Quite often we called each other by the name of our costume as we charged around and ‘Butterfly Girl’ wasn’t an insult as, apart from Julie and her friends, no one else had realised he was Simon. Even when I did call him Simon when others were around they never seemed to catch on. The party was incredible from start to finish and I think that was mainly due to the effort that Julie and her friends had put into it. We never stopped eating, drinking or having fun and apart from Simon having a little weep with me, I think everyone enjoyed themselves.

 

By six parents were coming to pick up their off-spring and my party began to wind down. Simon’s mum had stayed and chatted to my mum and sister though I have no idea what they talked about all that time. Anyway, he was one of the last to leave and, as his mum called for him he reluctantly wondered over to her and took her hand. I asked Mrs McKay if he could come and see me again soon and she said “that would be nice”. She straightened his shorts and jumper, thanked mum, Julie and me for inviting them both and for such an enjoyable time.

 

“C’mon poppet,” she said as they were leaving, “it’s getting very near your bed time.” Simon gave a little resigned shrug of his shoulders and waved to me with a little smile.

 

“Thank you Danni, have a nice rest of your birthday…” His voice trailed off as the door closed behind him.

 

Mum also shrugged and under her breath I heard her comment “What a strange woman.”

 

Within half an hour the house was back to normal and although I was exhausted I was also still in a state of some excitement as mum and me cuddled on the sofa whilst I watched a DVD I’d received as a present. She was saying how heroic I looked in my tunic and asked if I liked it too. I told her it was the best present… er… after the piano and that I loved it as well. I liked being Jason and I wanted to wear it all the time.

 

“OK sweetheart,” she hugged me, “as long as you’re happy,” she stroked the material, then my hair and looked searchingly into my eyes. “Whatever makes you happy.” She beamed at me and I’d never felt more content.

 

In fact I’d got loads of presents; chocolate, sweeties, action figures, DVDs, books, all kinds of stuff, which mum said I’d appreciate more in the morning when we’d organise my Thank You cards to everyone. While mum and I had been watching TV Julie had been chatting with her friends out in the garden (and I guess supervising the caterers and to make sure they didn’t steal anything). When she returned her friends had just left and my DVD was just finishing.

 

“Shall I put Danni to bed mum?” Julie asked standing in the doorway. 

 

Mum looked at her watch. “Mmm if you don’t mind,” she’d been dozing as I’d cuddled up to her but I didn’t want to break away as I was just very relaxed and comfortable.

 

“Aw mum, but I’m not tired. Let’s watch another DVD.” But mum wasn’t having any of my protest.

 

“Go on, it’s past nine… and you’ve been dozing along with me,” she smiled knowing that was exactly what I’d been doing.

 

There was no point in arguing further as Julie held out her hand and smiled. “C’mon, even heroes need their sleep.”

 

In my room I begged Julie to let go to bed wearing the tunic but she said that it would get ruined as I tossed and turned in my sleep. She asked if I didn’t want to keep it as special and I had to admit that I did. She helped me out of it and hung it up. I asked if I could keep my golden pants but again she just lay me out and removed them. Surprisingly I was quite wet and hadn’t even noticed but Julie seemed to have been expecting it and whipped off my soaked disposable and wiped me dry.

 

As usual, she was organised and I was powdered and lotioned in seconds. “I have another surprise for you,” she whispered reaching under my bed. “Annabel and Martine have made you something else… just for you and to celebrate your birthday.”

 

I suddenly got excited at the prospect of another surprise gift and eagerly watched as she produced a further new outfit for me to wear. The first part of it was like a huge fluffy nappy, which Julie began to attach with relish. I had no idea what the girls had made it from but it was very thick and when she pulled it up between my legs to fasten it in place, I felt my legs being forced wide apart. I wanted to protest but a brief look in my eyes from Julie meant that wasn’t going to happen. She slipped an equally fluffy top (‘bodice’ she called it), up my arms and it fastened down the back, then added a baby’s bonnet, also in this fluffy material and buttoned it under my chin.

 

“You look just perfect.” She smiled and produced a camera and quickly took some photographs. She had me crawl around the floor as she took many more. I wasn’t sure why I was complying as I wasn’t happy about this babyish outfit, but I found myself simply doing as I was told because it was Julie and she’d organised everything else. I suddenly thought of Simon being forced to wear something he didn’t like and how he cried when he thought he’d have to wear it forever. Julie was going on about how talented the girls were to design and make this all by themselves. She was saying how lucky I was to have such friends who made me special ‘pyjamas’ and how ‘adorable’ I looked.

 

My fantastic birthday was now not so fantastic and thinking about poor Simon I wasn’t really that happy. Julie told me to stop pouting but that only made me pout more and she took more photographs. “OK baby boy,” she smiled, “bed time,” and pulled back the cover. There was a stuffed teddy in exactly the same outfit as I was wearing waiting to greet me. “In to bed now and you’ve got a special friend to sleep with.”

 

I wasn’t happy but knew better than to create and begrudgingly clambered in with my new ‘friend’. She insisted I hugged the bear and took another photograph.

 

“You really are a very lucky baby, getting all these people to do these things for you.” I didn’t know what she was talking about, “asking the girls to make you this as a special treat.” I still had no idea what she was on about. “You do look adorable but there’s one thing missing.”

 

The huge nappy meant I could only move with difficulty and had to lie on my back. I wondered what the ‘one thing that was missing’ and she produced a dummy and slipped it between my lips. I immediately spat it out but Julie just pushed it straight back in. When I spat it out again she came up with another solution.

 

“OK, do you want another story about Jason and the Argonauts?” No matter how angry or upset or uncomfortable I was, I always wanted to hear one of her stories and especially if it was about my hero. I sheepishly nodded. “OK then,” and she pushed the dummy back in, “if you spit it out again you’ll never get another story.”

 

I knew I was beaten so I just sucked it in and settled down to Julie setting the scene for her next tale. It was strange because as she told her story I found myself excitedly sucking on the dummy and feeling really comforted by the huge nappy and fluffy ‘bodice’ and bonnet. I knew I must look like a big baby but as the tale progressed it didn’t bother me at all and I soon settled and fell asleep. No doubt Julie took more photographs of me as I slept with a dummy in my mouth and hugging my teddy.

 

#

 

Danni – Part 10 – More Surprises still

 

Standing at the prow of his ship, ‘Jason’ navigated his way through the tumultuous seas. In the distance a small white glow was the beacon to where he was heading. His short, shimmering tunic flapped around in the wind lifting up and revealing… butterfly knickers? On closer inspection it was the face of Simon staring out intently at the growing white light as the island approached. Now the glow was revealed, the much searched for fleece was in fact… me hanging in a tree… wearing what my sister had dressed me in. Simon looked terrific in my tunic as he strode up to the tree armed with his sword and…

 

“Wake up babykins…” Julie was gently shaking me from my dream. “Wakey-wakey, rise and shine, let’s get you…”

 

I yawned, rubbed my eyes and suddenly realised I was still sucking on the dummy.

 

“You’re so sweet in your fab new pyjamas,” she kissed my forehead. “You look like you’ve had quite a night,” she said as she pulled down my bedding and checked my nappy.

 

For the first time in quite some time my bed was soaked. Thankfully I’d been sleeping on a rubber sheet for some time so it was just me and the bedding that suffered.

 

“Mmmm, better get you cleaned up and this stuff put in the washing machine. Your new jammies aren’t very waterproof.” I could hear her mutter under her voice about thicker protection and plastic pants next time.

 

I’m not too sure why I had wet so much, although the stormy seas I’d just been dreaming about may have given some clue. Jason and the search for the Golden Fleece had been the story that Julie had been telling me last thing but I wasn’t sure how Simon had ended up as ‘Jason’. He was wearing my tunic, apart from those knickers, but I have to say he looked the part and quite heroic… even his flimsy nylon knickers didn’t detract from that fact. However, my involvement in my dream-world had been disappointing. Cast as the fleece wasn’t a very heroic part and I could feel it hanging heavily as Julie began to peel me from my fluffy prison. It was like half the world’s ocean’s had been soaked up by the fabric, it was so wet and substantial sagging between my legs.

 

Ever efficient, Julie had me stripped, the bed stripped, the windows opened to air my room and had left me dry but naked sat on the edge of my bed. As she went downstairs to sort out the washing she told me to wait until she returned before I got dressed.

 

She was taking quite some time so I took it upon myself to get ready. I sprinkled a bit of powder around myself and found my white pull-ups with the happy smiling princess on the front. This was the only underwear that I could see so I slipped them on and decided that I wanted to spend the day as ‘Jason’ so put on the rest of my tunic. The sandals were too fiddly to fasten up by myself so I padded downstairs barefoot. Mum was in the kitchen drinking coffee and reading a script for a new campaign. She took one look at me.

 

“And how is the hero today… did you sleep well?”

 

I beamed at being referred to as a hero and got myself some juice and tucked in to the cereal that she’d just poured for me. After a short while I told her how much I had enjoyed the party and seeing Simon again.

 

“Mmmm that poor boy,” I wasn’t sure what mum meant. “His mum is very strange… wanting to keep him dressed as a girl… very strange.”

 

I wriggled a little uncomfortably in my tunic hearing mum say such a thing about someone else. I’d been dressed as a girl, on and off, for most of my life and she’d never said anything about it before but, I swallowed a spoonful of Corn Flakes, and asked if we could invite him around again soon.

 

“If his mother will let him,” again she seemed very dismissive of her but she saw the confusion on my face and realised that she may be speaking about things I didn’t understand. Her face brightened, “Yes of course sweetheart, he can come over any time.”

 

I was happy about that so finished my breakfast and went to play on my new piano. I’d been fiddling around with a new idea I had for a tune when Julie came in looking a bit annoyed. I’d seen that face many times recently and I stiffened when she said “I thought I told you to wait.”

 

I felt a chill run up my spine and realised that my heroic little tunic probably wasn’t the warmest item to wear for everyday clothing.

 

She pulled me to my feet but her expression softened, “Look,” she said as she fluffed up the pleats in it, “you’ll get it all dirty if you wear it all the time.” Her voice was all concern, which wasn’t what I was expecting. “You’ll damage it if you don’t take good care of it… why not change and only wear it for special occasions?

 

I could see her point but I wanted to be a hero again, and I suppose somehow claim it back from Simon, after all this outfit made me feel like I was special. However, as she took my arm and led me upstairs I knew that her suggestion is what we’d be doing. Once again she hung it up with care and said how fantastic I looked in it but that we should just keep it for when we wanted to impress… a point she kept repeating. So, it was back to pull-ups and shorts and a jumper, which I had to agree, were a lot warmer to wear than just a short tunic and I began to wonder how the Ancient Greeks managed.

 

Some of the toys and action figures I’d received as presents were also from the TV show I enjoyed so much so, I played with them in battles or stories that I made up. I hoped Julie would join in and then perhaps what we played together during the day could become a version of a story to be told at night. With my new fluffy but leaky ‘pyjamas’ (as Julie insisted on calling them) drying off and in need of further waterproofing, this eight year-old was back to a regime of thick nappies and plastic security. In truth, that night I’d actually got used to the soft fleecy feel of the material and had to admit that although the overall effect was babyish, they were oddly very comfortable and comforting to wear. However, I also now had a new teddy and dummy that my sister was pretty keen I should use. If I didn’t clutch my teddy tight enough, or suck on my dummy enthusiastically enough she said that there were going to be no more stories until I could prove to her that I loved both. So, with my thick nappy and pants gripped by my short onesie, which was tightly buttoned between my legs, I gave each one the fervour that was expected.

 

I think for some reason mum’s encounter with Mrs McKay had set her thinking and, though it had been a long time in coming, she thought my wetting might be a symptom of something else. When mum booked me an appointment to see the doctor Julie had told me in no uncertain terms to tell him that I enjoyed dressing up and more especially I loved her looking after me. Since the spanking I both loved and feared my sister and had found that it was always best just to go along with what she said rather than argue. She also convinced me that the doctor would take me away and put me in a home if I didn’t do exactly as she said and that would upset mum. I was absolutely terrified of even seeing the doctor let alone speaking to him.

 

In the surgery I was continually on the verge of tears. I couldn’t speak and as the doctor examined me I was crying for my mummy, even though she was only inches away. I was so petrified that, whilst he was listening to my heart, I wet my pull-ups and it seeped down my leg onto his examination table, which set me off bawling. The people in the waiting room must have wondered what the doctor was doing to cause so much hysterical howling. Mum seemed embarrassed and surprised at my reaction and was desperately trying to calm me down but I just kept pleading with her not to let the doctor send me away.

 

The doctor must have dealt with similar problems a thousand times because he went to a cupboard, found a disposable nappy and left my mum to change me as he typed some things on a computer. Mum did her best but I suppose this only confirmed what Julie had been saying to her… I was just a big baby. When he returned I was sat up, nervously shivering and wrapped in the rather large disposable, he said that I could get dressed and mum helped me with my shirt and shorts, which did nothing to hide my new super-large underwear.

 

The doctor and mum talked around me; about my health history (I was rarely sick), was I good at school, did I wet in class, how long had it been a problem…etc etc? Meanwhile, as they talked I shook nervously as I tried to come to terms with this grown-up nappy sprouting from the top and legs of my shorts. This seemed much worse than anything that Julie had made me wear in public but all I could do was sniff back the tears and try not look too scared (I was failing badly in that).

 

He didn’t think there was anything physically wrong with me but thought that his colleague, a psychiatrist, might have an opinion and phoned through to book an appointment. I was ‘lucky’ because I could get in to see him later that day as there had just been a cancellation. Mum nodded her agreement and pretty soon, after we’d had lunch out, I found myself in another doctor’s waiting room wondering what would happen next.

 

#

 

 

Danni – Part 11 – Consequences

 

As we entered the new doctor’s consulting room a new, more intense panic gripped me and I hung on to mum’s hand for dear life and repeated that I didn’t want to be taken away. No matter what mum said I was convinced that if I let go the man would drag me off to… who knew where… and I’d never see my family again. I roared and stamped and struggled and there was nothing the poor confused man could do. Even the offer of a lollipop and cuddly stuffed animals couldn’t prevent my expression of terror.

 

They were both trying to calm me down but what they didn’t realise was that I was fighting for my life. If I let him get me alone, as Julie said, that would be it and I’d be whisked off to prison… or… something… er… I couldn’t remember exactly where she said it would be… all I knew was I didn’t want to leave mum and my sister as I’d never see them again.

 

Mum was trying her best to quieten me down. “C’mon sweetheart… the doctor’s only trying to help.” When it was just mum and me I wasn’t quite so panicky. “My little hero” and she emphasised the word, “has nothing to fear. Do you think that Jason and his Argonauts would cry?”

 

Mum was making sense… and crying was making me appear like I was a baby. However, I’d lost control so much that, once again, I’d wet myself and this time I couldn’t hide the result. Despite the huge disposable a dark damp patch had spread across my pale grey shorts and I was on the verge of hysteria once more. The nice lady receptionist saw what had happened and went off to get a fresh nappy. She returned with a couple of disposables and a pair of see-thru plastic pants (she must have been used to kids having accidents in her office) and pointed to the toilet for mum to change me.

 

I think mum was more worried than angry as she whipped off my shorts, removed the soaked disposable and dried me down with some rather rough paper towels. I sat on the edge of the changing table, that wasn’t really built for someone my size, naked from the waist down and mum asked what I was scared of. As Julie had only said not to tell the doctor anything I confided in mum what her daughter had told me. She was not happy.

“Right young man this has to stop now. None of that is going to happen. Do you think I’d let anyone take away my beautiful boy?” I shook my head but kept it bowed.

 

As she fixed both pairs of disposables into position and pulled up the plastic pants she continued. “Your sister…” she was struggling for words, “only said that as a… a… joke.  I’ll be with you all the time so just talk to the nice man… he’s not here to hurt you… or take you away… or anything but try and help you. You want to stop wetting the bed don’t you?” Looking down the clear plastic pants offered no hiding place for my double-thick nappy. However, my shorts were just too soaked for me to wear so I’d have to make do.

 

I nodded but still dare not look up at mum. She put her hand under my chin and gently lifted it up so I was gazing straight into her eyes. “My little hero is scared of nothing… so let’s go on this journey with the doctor together… who knows what we might discover.”

 

That was it. Mum had said all the right things and I sat cuddling her as the doctor asked his questions. I think mum was surprised at how much influence Julie had over me, and as it turned out, her. Things mum had never questioned now appeared to be a failure of duty by her and I think she found the chat more uncomfortable than I did. The doctor kept looking at her as if to say… ‘Didn’t you know?’

 

He pointed to my protection and asked if I minded being dressed like that but, wriggling up close to mum in a dry and well-padded nappy, I was quite comfortable and said that I didn’t mind. He spoke about being dressed-up and how I felt about that and I honestly said that it was fun and I loved my sister… she did everything for me.

 

“She read me stories, she organised my clothes, she put me to bed, she made me a heroes costume… er… she made me… happy… most of the time.”

 

We spent over an hour chatting to the doctor and I was pleased when we were walking to the car and relieved that I hadn’t been taken away. Even just wearing my bulging plastic safeguard I wasn’t embarrassed, in fact, this was normal but I could tell by the grip on my hand that mum was a little bit uneasy.

 

When Julie arrived home from school mum was ready. She didn’t give her beloved daughter a chance to make any excuses or offer any denials, she went straight in on the attack and surprisingly, Julie was embarrassed, defeated and… crying. I’d never seen my sister upset before and I found it saddening to witness. Mum made her go and get all my clothes she had stashed away and bring them back to my room. Boy’s clothes I didn’t know I had suddenly filled my draws and cupboard whist she made her reluctantly take my disposables, pull-ups, plastic pants etc into her room.

 

Faced with mum’s anger at being so easily deceived, and the fact that she had trusted her, Julie offered no argument… to begin with. However, mum had said that as a punishment Julie would now have to wear the nappies 24/7. This was too much for a thirteen year-old girl with more than a little attitude, a scheming nature and a leadership position amongst her friends.

 

The argument that followed really scared me and I found myself crying. Mum blamed her and she blamed mum for upsetting me. Julie reiterated that I was still only a soft, little baby boy who wasn’t equipped to deal with the rigors of growing up. Mum accused Julie of being a control-freak, unable to cope with the fact that I was growing up, growing independent and growing away from her influence. At this point I couldn’t stand it anymore and weeping rushed off to my room although I could still hear them arguing downstairs.

 

I was still wearing my bulging nappy and see thru pants when I threw myself down on my bed crying into my pillow. I hadn’t wanted any of this to happen, in fact, I hadn’t felt the need to change things at all… and I regarded it as entirely my fault. It was me who was wetting himself not Julie, it was me who enjoyed dressing-up. I didn’t quite understand why the two main women in my life were now shouting at each other.

 

I must have dozed for a while as I was woken up by mum coming in and telling me to get ready for bed. She stripped me out of my pants and nappy, which, perhaps unsurprisingly were sodden, and went and got my pyjamas… they were soft cotton and had planets and rockets all over them. I’d seen them once briefly but they had disappeared and I was put in pull-ups and pants by Julie to sleep in. Once mum had cleaned and dried me she offered them to put on but, I looked for a pair of pull-ups to slip into first but mum suggested I try without them… this time. 

 

I woke up dry. I was overjoyed and ran to mum to show her myself. Sat at the table was a very unhappy Julie, and it was only when she got up from the table to leave that I heard the tell-tale crinkle of plastic pants. I suppose mum had won that part of the argument but I don’t know what threats, so severe, had made my sister grumpily comply. As she was about to leave the house mum said that she’d be checking on her throughout the day and there would be dire consequences if she tried to change out of her punishment.

 

So, for the next few weeks Julie had to wear her nappies and pull-ups and plastic pants. Unfortunately, she didn’t read or tell me any more stories and mum was useless at it and, in truth, I missed what Julie and I had when we were together. Wearing a nappy seemed the least hardship if I could get her friendship back to the way things were and, when mum wasn’t around, I began to pester her to ‘dress me up’.

 

To begin with she refused but eventually, we were sat around in her room and she put me back in a nappy and plastic pants that matched hers. I thought we looked awesome in our mutual padded protection and that night she made up a story that had two friends, a boy and a girl, who went on an adventure wearing their bulging nappies that saved their lives.

The story was so exciting that I asked her if I could sleep in them but Julie said that she’d get into trouble if she let me. However, she saw a way to change things, if mum asked and I said that I’d put them on, she couldn’t be blamed.

 

I agreed and that night, under my rocket PJs, I wore my protection with pride and felt comforted knowing I had the security I’d been missing for the last few weeks. In fact, Julie appeared to enjoy wearing hers as well so it wasn’t that much of a punishment and eventually mum relented… and the reason she did that was pretty neat.

 

#

 

Danni – Part 12 – Back to Normal

 

 

It was a Sunday morning and I was tinkering around on the piano. Outside it was drizzly and gloomy and, as I had no intention of going outside, I hadn’t changed out of my PJs. Mum was in her study and we knew she was getting a little bit stressed over a new client who she was hoping to lure from one of the much bigger advertising agencies. Her team had come up with a couple of campaigns that they had rejected and it was the last presentation before they went elsewhere.

 

Julie was with me and as I played she was doing some writing, perhaps her homework. She was also still in her PJs, which still had the required padding underneath. If mum was around I didn’t wear any as I didn’t want to get my sister into any further trouble, we kept that for when there was just the two of us. Relationships between mum and Julie had been strained but recently they had been getting a little better.

 

Part of that was due to the fact that, with Julie wearing a ‘punishment’ to school, far from being an embarrassment, she’d turned it into a fashion statement. For some reason, all the boys loved to see my sister in her pink, shiny, padded protection. They liked the way it emphasised her bum and she was receiving more and more attention from the male students. All the other girls, older girls, were getting a bit jealous and pretty soon, Julie and her friends had a roaring trade in making padded ‘protection’ for their classmates. The head had forbidden them to wear such a ‘blatant sexual item’ at school but oddly enough, it had taken off with the girls who were wearing them socially.

 

None of this mum knew about but I could tell Julie was very pleased with the way she’d turned this to her own advantage. I suppose it just went to prove that Julie’s influence stretched further than anyone could imagine. Anyway, mum had come out of her study to check on us and just happened to mention that she was at a loss as to what to do for this new client. Normally mum rarely talked shop in front of us but this was really bugging her and her team of ‘brilliant’ designers, writers and degree-laden creatives had come up with nothing.

 

She was carrying a carton of juice, which was the product she was trying to come up with something, anything for when Julie, ever the clever girl with words took one look at it and came up with a slogan.

 

“Life in the key of vitamin ‘C’”

 

She even sang it to the notes I was trying to play on the piano and pretty soon she had created a two line song to go with it. The look on mum’s face was absolutely priceless as she asked us to play it again. We did and I’d never seen mum move so quickly as she rushed to the phone and got her creative team over to our house.

 

After they’d all gone mum was buzzing. They’d come up with a TV advert, featuring a series of cute family scenes (based on a boy at a piano) and a poster and newspaper campaign. She couldn’t get over having such an obvious tag-line (mum’s word for it) and was visibly proud of her ‘talented’ kids. She even said that perhaps she should employ us at the agency and sack the rest. A group hug made all the past disappear and we were instantly back to being a functioning family again. Mum said Julie’s punishment was over and she needn’t wear her protection any more. However, my sister is very clever. She said that she understood what she’d done was not right but that she had to see this ‘thing’ through to the end… so she wouldn’t forget how badly behaved she’d been. I think mum gave her the benefit of any doubt and assumed she was being very grown up but of course, she was just keeping her options open.

 

I liked wearing my big boy’s clothes and I seemed to blossom at school since I now didn’t have to wear a nappy although I did miss my night time ‘snuggle’ pants. So, if she wasn’t around to help, sometimes I raided Julie’s room and return with those comforting, nappy and plastic pants and secretly wear them under my jammies. I had stopped wetting. I suppose that was due to not being given a gallon of liquid before bed, so always woke up dry and was able to slip them off so they’d be available for use another night.  

 

Mum’s campaign pitch was a huge success and you may have seen the adverts on TV as they were very popular. The first one started with a young boy picking out notes on a piano but was having difficulties until his mother gave him a glass of juice. One drink and he was singing and playing like a professional. Meanwhile, his family joined him on each line of the song and pretty soon the screen was filled by a happy choir singing “Life in the key of vitamin ‘C’” as the boy played to a packed concert hall… a glass of juice perched on top of his piano. 

 

There were a series of similar advertisements all based around what mum had witnessed as I played with my space ships, whilst still in my PJs (that advert ended with an astronaut floating around the Earth with a carton of juice). She remembered Simon and me playing with some plastic animals and that translated as a young girl becoming an explorer… though still drinking her juice. I know that people eventually got sick of the song, it was very catchy, and you can only go cute for so long before tastes change. Anyway, it was a great success and made mum’s company the target of yet more aggressive takeover bids. She never let on to her team where the inspiration had come from but importantly, Julie liked that she could influence people (or at least try) and now knew what she wanted to do when she left school. Mum would bounce ideas off of her for nearly every campaign and Julie was exceptionally good at spotting a winner.

 

Meanwhile, Simon came for a play day and was dressed much the same as before except this time the emphasis was on  pink teddy bears rather than butterflies and he was very sullen. However, as soon as his mum had gone we went up to my room and I suggested that we swap for the day. He couldn’t believe the offer but as we both whisked of our clothes I could tell he was eager to resume being a boy again… and in truth, I’d missed my own style of dressing-up.

 

Even with his long girly hair, once in my clothes he looked so much happier. He actually held my cotton cartoon briefs against his face, as if he was inhaling being a boy again and then couldn’t wait to slip into them and everything else for that matter. His silky nylon knickers also had pink teddy bears all over them and matched perfectly with the rest of his outfit. They brought back some happy memories for me as I thought they were cute and beamed as I tugged them up my legs, admiring them once in place. After we’d swapped completely I never thought any more about it as we continued our games in my room… until mum called us for lunch.

 

Mum took one look and said “What are you two boys doing?”

 

She didn’t seem mad but I could see she wasn’t particularly happy.

 

I was quite bold. “Simon wanted to be a boy again so we swapped clothes.”

 

“Mmmm. OK, why didn’t you just lend him some of your other clothes?”

 

Simon looked a bit afraid that he would have to change back so I had to think quickly “I wanted... er… I like to dress up… I like these things and I miss doing so with Julie…”

 

“Oh sweetheart, you are thoughtful” She hugged me and then hugged us both together. “I never thought you might want to keep playing.” She looked caringly. “OK boys, well you both look… lovely… are you OK Simon?”  He nodded vigorously. “In that case let’s eat.”

 

Back in my room after lunch we were playing with my Greek Heroes action figures and he asked me about my tunic from my birthday. I told him it was a special present from Julie and I loved wearing it (although I hadn’t done so for a while). He said that at first he thought it looked too much like a girls dress but, now he watched the same TV programme he saw that’s what they wore in those days. I asked him if he’d like to try it on and though at first he said “No… he didn’t think so” in a very shy voice, I took to that mean he’d need convincing.

 

Ten minutes later and he was out of my clothes and trying on the tunic. He kept my cartoon underpants on but enjoyed wearing the rest and it brought back memories of the dream I had when I was the ‘fleece’. Eventually, I brought out the gold plastic pants and suggested the outfit looked better if it all matched. He didn’t have to wear a nappy if he didn’t want but that’s how I’d worn them and they fitted better if he did. He just pulled them over his briefs but still looked pretty good and we spent the rest of the day playing ‘Heroes’.

 

Before his mum was due we changed back, although I wanted my turn in the ‘Jason’ costume. As we swapped back and he was getting dressed he didn’t appear as gloomy as he had when he’d arrived. In fact, it didn’t seem to worry him at all getting redressed in his pink clothes. I gave him a pair of my cartoon briefs to take home with him so he could wear them in secret if he wanted to and he appreciated the gesture. Surprisingly, he was a lot happier boy when his mum came and collected him and almost skipped to meet her waiting by the car.

 

Meanwhile, mum waved to Mrs McKay and said what a delightful boy Simon was and she hoped we’d see him again soon. Mrs McKay nodded and kissed her son on the head in greeting. She saw me, again dressed in my little tunic, smiled and I think was surprised by her son’s happier state of mind. I don’t know but perhaps she might have thought that me being dressed the way I was added to her opinion that all little boys would be better as little girls. In the meantime, whilst we were changing I’d gone and got a nappy from Julie’s room and had pinned it on myself, pulled my gold shiny pants over them and once again felt like the padded hero I hoped I looked

 

#

 

 

Danni – Part 13 – Cocoon

 

With Julie back in mum’s good books I was hoping that we could return to how things were. I know that she had embarrassed and humiliated me on occasions but, and perhaps this is the strange thing, once that initial reaction was over, I actually liked being her baby brother. I’m sure mum wouldn’t have allowed things to spiral out of control (she was keeping a much more detailed eye on both of us) but I was hoping for the reappearance of my fleecy PJs and some of the other stuff she used to dress me in.

 

Unfortunately, the sad thing for me was that my darling, humiliating, bossy and clever sister appeared to have lost the need to dress me up or find a demeaning situation where I would be shamed. Even at bed time she didn’t supervise my PJs, mostly mum came in to settle me down so we didn’t have the fun we used to. I was really missing being dressed for sleep in a nappy and onesie but it never occurred to mum that I might prefer that.  

 

Julie’s ‘creativity’ and energy were both now directed into helping mum and proving herself both at home and at school where I think she had acquired a boyfriend. Although she didn’t completely neglect me - when she did read me a story, or make one up, sadly we no longer had that intimacy. Despite all that had been done to me over the years I was always made to feel special, different, loved and Julie’s most favourite toy - now I suddenly felt very ‘un-special’ indeed.

 

She spent more time with mum and the two of them would discuss and plan campaigns together. Even though she was only just a teenager mum reckoned that her daughter was way better and more creative than half her staff. As she did when given free reign over me, she blossomed with the responsibility. Channelling her ingenuity away from me and into her new ‘love’ advertising saw a new respect form between the two. Meanwhile, I was more often than not left to my own devises and spent a lot of time in my room on my piano creating some tunes or simply dreaming of dressing up and pretending.

 

To try and claw back some of those ‘special’ feelings I sneakily began to bring all the things I liked from Julie’s room and the stuff stored in the attic, back to my own. Onesies, nappies, disposables, pull-ups, plastic pants, rubber pants, anything and everything (including some of her clothes from when she was younger) eventually found its way back under my bed, into my ‘secret’ draws or hidden in the closet.

 

Sometimes I’d sit at the piano wearing one of Julie’s old dresses with a thick nappy and only change when I was called to eat. Then I’d slip out of the dress and, depending on how huge the nappy was, attempt to pull them over my shorts. If mum noticed she never said anything and if Julie noticed I guess she thought she was just keeping my secret.

 

The only time I thought I could dress up without upsetting mum was when Simon came to play. I think his mum had decided that I was a bigger girl than her son and therefore not a bad influence. Little did she know that as soon as she drove off we swapped clothes and he played at being a boy, whilst I played at being… him. Not every time. Sometimes we’d both be boys and he’d just wear some of my clothes but I did like to try his stuff on because it was different and I thought his mum actually dressed him prettily.

 

He was never happy if I wanted us both to wear nappies because he said his mother made him wear them to sleep in. He said he never wet the bed but she insisted and supervised his night time routine to make sure he wore them. She’d check every morning as well, so he’d given up trying to wriggle out of them during the night as it got her mad and he was made to wear something far worse (his words) for the rest of the day. He was trying to find the least embarrassing clothes and discovered that if he didn’t fight her too much he could avoid the dresses even if the rest of his outfits were fairly ‘girly’.

 

Mrs McKay only ever invited me once to go over to play at their place but mum was none too keen and made it so that I was doing something else on that occasion. I would have loved to see Simon in his own environment but I don’t think he really wanted me there as he much preferred to express himself at my house.

 

At school Miss Simms was encouraging me to get more involved with the choir and was happy to teach me piano. I didn’t even mind singing solos now and, since my 8^th birthday party, had become quite a popular boy. In the playground I chased around after the ball but I was hopeless at sport, never really acquiring the skills to tackle or win the thing. If another boy ran towards me my immediate reaction was to stop and cower, which wasn’t the correct response. However, like Julie, I was doing quite well in class and was receiving good reports to show mum so she was under the impression all was well.

 

Late one Saturday night I was getting ready for bed. Mum was downstairs and Julie was staying at her friends. I thought this was an ideal time to use some of the things I’d stashed in my room. Alas, mum discovered me crying my eyes out. I’d managed to fit into my nappy and plastic pants easily enough but I must have grown because I couldn’t get the onesie to fit. I was frustrated at trying to get the snap fasteners to work but there just wasn’t enough material for both ends to meet. For some reason this upset me more than it should and I think it was my sobbing that had alerted mum to a problem.

 

She could see I was in distress “What’s wrong sweetheart?”

 

“I can’t get it to fit.” I bawled through heavy tears.

 

“Is that what you want to do, wear your onesie again?” I nodded. “I thought you had stopped all that.” She said stroking my hair out of my eyes and dabbing at my tears.

 

“But I like them.”

 

“Perhaps if you take off the protection you’ll be able to get it to fit.”

 

“But I like that as well.” I whined. “I liked all that… it made me feel special...” I sobbed heavily. “It’s not fair, why did thing have to change?” I heaved another huge cry.

 

“Oh sweetheart, you’re growing up and all that’s for babies. You’re not a little toddler anymore,” she tried to find some soothing words. “You’re eight and a very talented young man.”

 

Unfortunately, being a talented young man didn’t help and I just pushed my head into her bosom and cried, “But I don’t want to grow up.”

 

She must have seen the dummy in amongst all the stuff I had got out to try on. She reached down, picked it up, saw how miserable I was and just slipped it into my mouth as if it was the most natural thing to do. I didn’t think twice and immediately sought its soothing qualities by sucking passionately. Resting in my mother’s arms, being gently rocked I was soon happily drifting off to sleep.

 

The following morning I woke up with the dummy half in and half hanging out of my mouth, the onesie had ridden up my body and I could feel that my nappy was soaked. I hadn’t wet for some time so this was a shock and gave me an uneasy feeling. Would mum be mad because I’d reverted to being a big baby, which she obviously thought I should be over by now, and would I be punished? I didn’t like that idea so climbed out of bed, relieved that the sheets were dry, and waddled to the bathroom.

 

Regardless of the soggy, damp, cold and uncomfortable nappy I was pleased to get back to some of the feelings I used to have when Julie checked me in the mornings. I’d had a completely restful night’s sleep but the result was a wet nappy and perhaps oddly, I didn’t mind the trade-off. I could hear that mum was up and pottering around probably getting breakfast ready so, I shrugged off all my wet sleepwear and got in the shower. As usual, I used far too much shampoo and was inundated with bubbles so I made games with them as they trickled in batches down my body.

 

Mum must have been calling me for breakfast but I didn’t hear her because of the sound from the shower when she appeared in the doorway.

 

“C’mon sweetheart, get dried and dressed we’ve got a busy day ahead of us.”

 

As I peeked round the shower door I saw her pick up my soaked nappy, look back at me and gave a sort of resigned smile. I wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad sign but as she’d told me to hurry up I thought I’d better not mess around for much longer. I rinsed the bubbles from my hair, dried off and went back to my room to get dressed. Mum was sat on the edge of my bed waiting.

 

Flashing through my mind were images of the time when Julie had spanked me for not doing as I was told and the guilt I suddenly felt made me shiver.

 

“Come and sit here love,” she said patting the bed to her side.

 

She looked serious but not angry so, pulling the towel tighter, I nervously walked over and sat down.

She looked me in the eyes. “You are my precious little boy.” I felt relieved as she put her arm around my shoulder. “I don’t like to see either of my babies unhappy… but you seem like you are.”

 

Inside I was saying ‘Yes, yes I am’ but I looked down at the carpet and let mum continue.

 

“By rights, you should be over wanting to wear nappies and,” she indicated all the baby clothes that I had around the room, “all this type of thing.”

 

I began to worry that she was about to take everything away and I experienced an uncomfortable feeling welling up inside me.

 

“Most boys your age want to be… well… want to be … older.” She nodded to herself as if she’d found the correct words. “Some are in no rush to grow up… and some… perhaps like you… are worried about growing up.”

 

Tears were forming in my eyes as I expected the worst.

 

“Danni,” she hugged me close, “you’ve never really had a strong male influence in your life. I never thought you needed one as long as your sister and I guided you and answered any questions or helped solve any prob…”

 

She must have felt my body through the towel begin to heave with the sobs that were catching in my tummy, chest and mouth. I didn’t know what to do or what to feel I just know I felt dreadful and in my case, tears were the usual expression.

 

“Oh sweetheart. I’m not angry or anything like that. I want nothing but for you to be happy and if you like to dress up… well that’s fine by me.” She was hugging me real tightly. “Oh baby, I love you… and if that is how you like to express who you feel you are… I’m certainly not going to stop you.”

 

I howled my relief.

 

“I’m not Simon’s mother.” She got in that particular dig. “I don’t want to make you do… or be anything that you don’t want to. Both your sister and I are on your side. We’ve talked about it and… well… if that’s how you feel happiest.”

 

I let the towel drop from my shoulders and hugged mum as hard as I could. I wasn’t totally sure what all this would mean but it sounded like I could still play dress up and wear my nappy… at least that’s what I hoped it meant.

 

We sat hugging for a few more minutes before she told me to get dressed and come down for breakfast.

 

“What should I wear?” I asked.

 

“Well, it’s cooler out than it has been so… I suggest you wrap up warm but… it’s up to you.” She smiled and left me to it.

 

I looked out of the window and mum was right, it was cloudy and the wind was blowing so it was jeans, jumper but underneath was a pair of pull-ups. Even they were fitting me very tightly these days but, princess or no princess I was reluctant to give them up.

 

We went shopping and mum bought me new pull-ups and plastic pants that she said should last a while as I grew into them. She told me that they were mainly to be used for bed but, if I wanted to wear them any other time I could. When we returned home Julie had a surprise for me. The fleecy PJs had been altered slightly and were a lot bigger so I would grow into them as well. Julie suggested that to make them nice and snug I should wear a very thick nappy, which she offered to supervise the next time I wanted to wear it.

 

I was very happy. I liked being a boy but at times I liked being a girl. Some nights though I just wanted to be a baby; I wanted stuffed toys, stories, plastic pants and onesies. Not every night of course but when I sought the comfort that all those things offered I’d rush up stairs and couldn’t wait to go to sleep in my own pleasure cocoon.

 

#

 

Danni – Part 14 – Growing Up

 

Whether mum was happy with me dressing up or not, she was never anything but reassuring. She could see how contented it made me and how delighted I would be with any new clothing added to my closet. I now had boys and girls items and, even without Julie supervising, was happy to slip into anything that took my fancy. I suppose the one thing that didn’t change was my preference to sleep in my padded protection… even though I rarely needed it for the purposes it was created.

 

My special fleecy PJs were happily alternated with my space PJs or a pair of boxers but I always had a nappy or disposable under them. Pull-ups or knickers, I was more than happy to wear for school but again, I alternated them with my cartoon briefs. I was free to wear what I liked, when I liked and I couldn’t have been happier… except… I missed Julie’s firm but guiding hand. Occasionally, she found time for me; being a very busy young miss now with her boyfriend, school and everything else she had going on in her life, but it was really nice when we’d delve into my many costumes and she’d create a land of make-believe with me at its centre. I even began to include her stories in my fledgling song writing and could often be heard at the piano trying to make her words fit a particular piece of music I’d come up with.

 

On that subject, I won my first ever prize when I took a solo in an inter-schools singing competition. It was coming up to my 9^th birthday and my confidence had grown considerably, although for safeties sake, I was surreptitiously wearing protection under my school uniform. My teacher had continually encouraged me, telling anyone who would listen what a wonderful voice I had and was eager to give me solos whenever she could. I enjoyed being centre-stage and that confidence grew when I realised that the precaution I took meant I didn’t have to worry about any possible ‘accidents’. When my name was announced as the winner I was so surprised to hear everybody cheering and my school friends calling my name. The applause made me quite emotional and when Miss Simms hugged me in congratulations, I have to admit I peed a little. Obviously she could feel my protection but didn’t say a word but, like everyone else I have ever known, simply patted me on my padded bottom and smiled.

 

I hadn’t seen Simon for a few weeks. Every time I called his mum said he was busy and couldn’t come to the phone or that they had other things organised and they were on their way out. Eventually he began to come to the house again but I think he thought I’d gone quite weird. Sometimes when he visited I was dressed as a girl, a boy, a pirate or some incredible fantasy creature I’d dreamt up, he was never sure who or what was going to greet him. I urged him to dress up equally outrageously but he always said he just wanted to be a boy. However, recently I had noticed that there were certain things he didn’t reveal if we dressed up. He seemed ashamed and eventually told me that his mum now insisted he wear some very girly, frilly knickers all the time under his pretty shorts. I had noticed but said nothing but because they were quite padded I suspected they covered a nappy or something similar underneath. He was obviously not very happy about this change to his dress-code but refused point blank to swap my undies for his. Although at first he wasn’t very forthcoming I wondered if his mother had found my briefs and this was some kind of punishment. I figured that either there must be some way his mother would know if he took them off, or, more probably, he couldn’t remove them. Either way I was now transfixed by his shiny, frilly, cushioned panties and wanted some of my own.   

 

I remembered that some time back, when I was a lot younger, Julie had made me wear something similar and I set about trying to see if I could find them. I searched the attic from top to bottom but had no luck and was about to give up when I had an idea. I rifled through Julie’s underwear draws and was happily surprised to find a couple of pairs that looked not unlike the ones Simon had been wearing. One pair was very tight-fitting and I vaguely recalled having to wear them once when I was younger. The other pair was silky, frilly and a lovely pale pink and looked fairly new. They soon became part of my ‘luxury’ items to wear and, inspired by Simon, I soon had them pulled over my disposable enjoying the slippery silkiness.

 

It was quite a shock to Simon when he visited me next and saw I was wearing the same type of knickers as he was. Recently he’d been reluctant to throw himself wholeheartedly into our play (I assumed because of those panties) but now I hoped he would see that it didn’t worry me what he wore so I hoped it wouldn’t worry him.

 

“I don’t know why you have to wear them,” I said as he looked stunned at my shiny protection, “but now you don’t have to feel like it’s a punishment…or something to hide… especially if we make it into a game.”

 

I convinced him to throw caution to the wind and not care what he had to wear. We spent the day running around just dressed in those frilly items. His were purple and mine pink and the fact that we wore the same seemed to help him lose any hang-ups he’d been having as we charged about doing the most boyish games I could think of. At meal time I had noticed he ate and drank very little and wondered why. I also noticed that he didn’t go to the bathroom like he used to so, putting my hand on his padded bottom I asked why. He looked a bit hurt but eventually confessed that since his mother found my underpants in his bed one morning she now made him wear a nappy all the time. When he’d rebelled, screamed, shouted and cried that it ‘just wasn’t fair’, she made it so that he had no option. Slowly he pulled down the front of his silky panties and revealed the top of his nappy which had a small padlock attached. He was firmly bolted into his tight-fitting and firm looking protection and I’d never seen anything like them before.

 

“I can’t take them off.” He sighed. “Mum has the key and she makes me wear them all the time. At home I have to wear a short little dress as well.”

 

I was quite surprised at what Simon was going through. “She says that she won’t put up with my rebellious streak and the sooner I learn to do as I’m told and act like the good girl I am,” he snorted a bit at that, “the sooner she’ll rethink my punishment.”

 

I patted his padding and asked if he was OK? “Only wet, these…” and he pulled at his frilly panties, “have a plastic lining to keep everything in… so they are really just like a pair of plastic pants…”

 

“I think you look great in them,” I confessed. “That’s why I wanted a pair of my own.” He smiled knowing he had my support. “But I don’t like to see you unhappy… so what can we do to change your mum’s mind?”

 

“I don’t know,” he said in a sad quiet voice, “I thought about running away but…” I was listening intently, “I don’t think I’d get very far and I’m sure mum would make things worse if I tried.”

 

I said I wished he could come and live with me and he said that he wished the same but, and he confided this next bit, “Mum thinks you’re family are all a bit weird”.

 

We thought this was the funniest thing we’d both ever heard and were rolling around on my bedroom carpet, dressed only in our frilly protection and in complete hysterics.

 

It was getting late and his mum would be calling for him soon so, before we dressed, I gave him a real hug and told him again how much I wished he could live with us. He hugged me back and said how much he’d hate it if we couldn’t play together again and didn’t want to risk those opportunities. We were best friends, and best friends look out for each other. We hugged again and without thinking patted each other’s padded bottoms, which neither of us minded in the least.

 

That night Julie came into my bedroom looking like thunder. She asked me what I’d done with them and as I could only think of one thing she must be speaking off, I pulled back my bedclothes. My little white cotton t-shirt had rode up my belly so her frilly knickers, stretched over my disposable, were clearly on view.

 

I felt guilty and started to apologise but then she broke into a huge smile and said, “What’s taken you so long?”

 

I didn’t know what she meant but she plonked herself down on the side of my bed and told me that she’d had them made a while ago and wondered how long it would take me to discover and wear them. She said that when I was younger she’d put me in a pair of frilly panties and thought I looked pretty good in them “And you… well you just loved wearing them.” However, these days, she wanted me to find them for myself and want to wear them rather than her making me.

 

“You know Danni,” she said stroking the front of my cushioned panties, “you’ve grown up so much in the past year.” I loved to hear it when Julie praised me. “You take responsibility for what you wear and don’t care what anyone else thinks… that takes guts.”

 

I wondered if there was going to be a put down at the end of her speech but all she said was that she was proud of me. We talked about our day and I asked if she would tell me a story. She asked what about and I pointed to my frilly knickers and asked if she had one about them. She laughed and started on a tale of my own discovery and rifling through her draws to find the ‘Panties of Excellence’

 

It was a pretty good story, especially when she said they had a magic interior that made them waterproof and acted as special aid to swimming. Remembering Simon’s panties I enthused about that bit so she exaggerated all the more the enchanted properties of this very special, silky, shiny pair of ‘super-panties’.

 

I woke up wet. I’m not sure why but it could have been the dreams I had about my waterproof (and as it turned out bulletproof) super-panties as I’d battled with aliens, criminals and a rather angry looking polar bear. My new ‘Panties of Excellence’ were in demand to quell any wrong-doing as I became a sort of Super Hero who wore his frilly garment with pride. The dream had been action packed, I think I might not have only saved the world but also saved the underwater world of the ‘Squidimus’; a lot of my exploits took place in the oceans with me holding my breath as I dispatched evil ‘aquafiends’. Oh yes, the work of a pantie-clad Super Hero is never done until the last wrong-doer is brought to justice (or meets an unpleasant end).

 

A wet crotch seemed a cheap price to pay for a safe and secure world but, as it was something I hadn’t done for a long time, it was a bit of a surprise. I lay there, noticing that the shiny fabric had stretched to accommodate my bulging nappy and I was worried that they might burst apart. There was even a slight damp patch on my sheet where my nappy had leaked, the panties not able to help in containing any heavy ‘weather’. So, my ‘Panties of Excellence’ weren’t that excellent after all and reluctantly I had to put them in the wash.

 

#

 

Danni – Part 15 – Miss Simms

 

At school I was spending a lot of time with Miss Simms. Like the other women in my life, when she asked or told me to do something I did it, so it was no surprise to find me entering just about every music competition she could find. She was of the opinion that I was ‘super-talented’; had a terrific voice, wrote songs and played the piano… and to her undying credit… she pushed me to excel in each of these areas.

 

It had been well over a year since my first, disastrous public appearance when I’d wet myself on stage but since then I had found confidence and a talent that had apparently been lying dormant. I loved performing now and was more than happy to go along with anything that Miss Simms suggested. Perhaps she became a surrogate Julie and I liked the fact that she had, to some extent, taken charge of my life as I’m sure without her I would never have found what I now have.

 

She’d known about me wearing nappies since that very first performance and she was one of those teachers who was very close to her students; we nine year-olds got loads of praise, lots of hugs and always positive comments. She was also the teacher who was constantly patting my bottom when I’d done something well. I loved this bond she had with her class and I liked even more the closeness she shared with me.

 

Mum thought Miss Simms was fantastic. Because of me they had become friends and mum was so pleased to see me blooming in a way that no one had thought. Her constant encouragement and the fact that she gave over much of her own spare time to support my talent meant that she had almost become part of the family. She was aware of my ‘dressing up’ and though she wasn’t in a position to dissuade or encourage me in that area, she didn’t appear to think it was that odd. In fact, on one competition where we had to stay overnight we shared a room and I was surprised to find just how supportive she could be.

 

Mum had been happy to let Miss Simms chaperone me to a competition in a city up north. It was an early start and an all-day knockout style contest so we went up to stay overnight. Mum had packed my suitcase with my new school uniform (which as I was representing the school I had to wear) however, she had bought me new long trousers, instead of the shorts that I normally wore to class, and I didn’t like them. They felt baggy and ill-fitting and I was very uncomfortable in them and much preferred the shorts. Miss Simms was in agreement, she thought I looked better wearing shorts and smiled in a conspiratorial sort of way saying that they brought out my ‘childlike genius’, which she was sure wouldn’t be lost on the judges.

 

On the morning of the contest we had a light breakfast in our room after which she told me to take a bath. We’d shared a room, which I loved because, before we went to sleep, she told me stories of some of the great composers, which I found fascinating. Anyway, when I came out of the bathroom Miss Simms had laid out my clothes but also had added a pair of disposables and plastic pants, which I didn’t recognise as my own. I think she saw my eyebrows rise in surprise but she just added that she thought I might be more comfortable wearing them.

 

Over the past few months I had found that I was wearing pull-ups less and less for school mostly only wearing them at home and, like the nappies, for sleeping in. I had worn pull-ups under my pyjamas that night but I didn’t think that she had known about them… obviously she knew more than I thought. Once over my initial surprise I began to think that she may well be correct, I did feel safer and more confident on stage if I knew that there wouldn’t be a repeat of that first performance. I was surprised at how often I was now remembering that event and that was a bit upsetting, it was slightly undermining my confidence.

 

However, she was very supportive and said it was only an option; she pointed to my Hercules cartoon underpants, which were also laid out and said it was up to me what I wanted to wear. The nappy was very thick and when she held it out I knew that was her preference so that’s what I went with. She dried me down then got me to lie out on the bed and like Julie used to do, powder me before pulling the disposable tightly up between my legs. To be truthful, I loved the attention as it brought back memories of… well… times that were now few and far between. She helped me to my feet to make sure it fit well and then had me step into the plastic pants she held open. They were yellow with cartoon characters all over them and crinkled as she pulled them up to cover the thick nappy.

 

I was in so happy. It was like my earlier life when Julie would make sure I was properly dressed and had on enough protection so that I had no worries for the rest of the day. I realised that Miss Simms must have bought the plastic pants herself as I didn’t recognise them as my own and I suspect that she had planned this to happen. I was grateful that I was being given a choice but I was even happier that she had already decided what I should wear to the contest. The shorts felt tight and looked bulky, though in truth I was ridiculously happy. I thought I could perform so much better now that I felt safe and once I had my shirt and school tie in place I was ready to take on all comers.

 

It was a long morning and I was number seven on the order. First we had to sing the same song that we all had to individually perform, which we were marked on, whilst later in the day we had to sing a song of our choosing (well in my case Miss Simms’s choosing to be correct). However, at lunchtime Miss Simms asked if I needed changing and it was only at that point that I realised that I did. I’d gone through the entire morning just so excited I hadn’t even thought about going to the toilet, I’d just naturally wet my nappy but the disposable had soaked it all up and left me unaware of what I’d done. She found a ladies toilet that also had baby-changing facilities and took me in there. I was astounded at just how prepared she appeared to be; disposables, wipes, powder and, if my eyes didn’t deceive me, a dummy, which she didn’t give me then and there, she just cleaned me up, fastened me back into my shorts and I was ready for the next round.

 

Miss Simms thought my voice was ‘pure and faultless’ but there were other boys my age there who I thought were better. One of them, Colin Harper, was superb as he sang ‘Pie Jesu’, which was one of my own personal favourites. I was so glad I had sung before him as I felt sorry for the couple of other boys that had to follow him. He was so good I stood up and applauded his seamlessly beautiful version that it made me weep. I was moved to tears by the sheer magic of his performance and the quality of his voice. I was in no doubt who the winner was but I had a shock when he was judged in second place and I was given first. I couldn’t believe it and looked questioningly at Miss Simms for an answer to what I thought was a ridiculous decision. She just smiled, and proudly said the difference was “I was the complete package,” she patted my padded bottom, “of looks, voice and performance’ and should be proud of my achievements as I was up against some special young performers.

 

After I called mum to tell her of my success, which she was very pleased about, Miss Simms chatted to her about staying over another night rather than driving back so late. Mum thought it was very considerate of her so we ended up going for a celebratory meal, which I was allowed to choose before spending another night together.

 

I hadn’t had pizza for quite some time so I pigged out on that and, to make thing even better, there was a special offer on desserts so I could have as much as I wanted. I was stuffed by the time we arrived back at the hotel. The trophy was on the table between our two beds and gleamed when the light was turned on. Miss Simms had kept me entertained with stories of other children she had taught and some of the weird and wonderful things they had got up to that had made her smile. She was fun and I didn’t want her to stop so asked her to tell me more stories about famous composers.

 

She suggested we get ready for bed first but of course, once I removed my shorts I realised I was once again wet through. She didn’t appear to mind at all and had me wiped down in seconds. This time she suggested that, as I was sleeping in a hotel bed, I might prefer some thicker protection. I wasn’t going to argue and just shrugged my shoulders to say I didn’t mind.  From her suitcase she produced a terry fabric nappy and two thick absorbent pads. I was happy to go along with it so, after she had thoroughly spread lotion and powder over those all-important parts, she pulled the hefty bundle tightly up between my legs. I hadn’t been so well stuffed for quite some time and wasn’t quite used to such enormous protection. She slid a different pair of pink plastic pants over it all and suggested we leave my pyjamas off as they simply wouldn’t fit. I waddled around trying to make sure it was comfortable but eventually sought my bed and climbed in.

 

Miss Simms went off to the bathroom to change and came back in her satin nightie, which I have to say she looked wonderful in, and plonked herself down on my bed. She hugged me and said how well she thought I’d done (for the umpteenth time) and now it was time for my story. However, before she started she offered me the dummy that I’d seen earlier. She asked if I wanted it, she said that as it had been such an exciting day it might help to calm everything down and help me ‘unwind’. I didn’t feel I needed to ‘unwind’ but she popped it into my mouth anyway. Surprisingly it was nice to have that sucking sensation back and quickly found the process was indeed very relaxing. She put her arm around me and hugged me to her ample bosom, she smelled wonderful and, as she related a story about Mozart, I drifted in and out of sleep. Before I fell asleep completely I thanked Miss Simms for all she’d done including the protection and kissed her on the cheek. She said it was her pleasure. She liked to see me enjoy being a little boy again and thought I was the sweetest (and cutest) pupil she’d ever had. She also predicted that I would one day be very famous… but hoped that I’d never stop being who I was.

 

I wasn’t sure exactly what she meant but as always, the way she spoke sounded positive. I soon got used to the bulky item between my legs and, although they were forced wider apart than normal, the nappy and pants were unbelievably comfortable to wear. I was enjoying the memories that the sheer size conjured up, especially the times when Julie would make them so big I could hardly move. Occasionally I would run my hand over the huge plastic mound and delight in its silky slipperiness. During the night I woke up a couple of times and could hear the gentle breathing of Miss Simms in the other bed. I thought about going to the bathroom but in the end I just peed, felt a slight warming glow ‘down there’ and was soon fast asleep again.

 

In the morning she appeared pleased that I’d wet myself and cooed and baby-talked to me as she once again changed me. Since Julie now had other interests I had grown away from such babyish things but now, with Miss Simms, I was really enjoying being back in my childish security zone. Even though I was nine she still blew raspberries on my stomach and made silly noises as she got me ready for our return home. She asked if I wanted to wear a disposable or my briefs but I giggled and didn’t answer so she would have to make the decision. I arrived home with my trophy and a sodden nappy, thankfully my new cartoon plastic pants had stopped any dribbles and I couldn’t have been happier.

 

#

 

 

Danni – Part 16 – Mum’s Boyfriend

 

It was around this time that a man, the type mum found very attractive indeed; young, good-looking, gym-toned and with a certain degree of self-confidence, started appearing on a regular basis. Mum was infatuated but Julie didn’t like him at all, she said there was something ‘fishy’ about his interest in mum. To begin with I had very little to do with him but when I did he seemed a bit un-nerved by my appearance. Sometimes I was dressed as a boy, other times a girl and sometimes just wearing a nappy… he didn’t know what to say.

 

When I say I was dressed as a girl I didn’t try to make myself look like a girl, I simply wore the clothes that I liked. Usually I wore my protection for bed so that’s why he often saw me dressed that way as it was evenings and mornings (especially mornings) when he’d be around. I could see that he was desperately trying not to look shocked but when mum said nothing but happily patted my padded bum as we chatted at breakfast, I saw the lack of comprehension on his face. I’m not sure if mum explained anything to him, or even felt that she should but eventually, desperate to stay in my mum’s good books, he also started patting my padded bottom if we talked or I was nearby (though only if mum was around).  I quite liked his attention and made myself noticeable when he visited and I liked the way he was so cautious when he stroked or patted my bulky nappy under my plastic pants but it was nice, it was unlike anyone else and I craved his attention.

 

I’d had very little interaction with men, well males in general, and was desperate that he liked me. I would suddenly appear, occasionally at the most inappropriate times, with some bogus question or desire to show off something I had done. He would hide his annoyance because mum was never annoyed, she took everything I did (and how I appeared) as me - ‘just being me’. If it was the evening mum would often encourage me to sit between them while I explained what I’d done or to get an answer to my question and he always looked relieved if I was in my pyjamas. The nappy would be hidden so he didn’t have to cope with that but, over time, I got braver and braver until, in the end would be sitting there just wearing my plastic protection.

 

Mum’s new man was called James Booth. He was 27 years old (a great deal younger than mum) and I thought he was devastatingly good looking. He’d met mum over a lunchtime sandwich in the park near her office and their relationship had blossomed fairly quickly from this rather unexciting meeting. Julie thought he was on the make and always excused herself if he was around. He tried his best with her but she was having none of it and rebuked any attempt at friendliness, much to mum’s frustration. He even managed to get tickets to see her favourite band but she just flounced out the door declaring how she was ‘so over them’ and that no girl her age would be seen dead at one of their concert. It must have taken a great deal of resolve on her part because only days earlier she was saying how desperate she was to go to the concert. Julie was an ‘all or nothing’ kind of girl and James had better believe it.

 

Thankfully, because of Julie’s attitude towards him he upped his efforts to befriend me and began to take more of an interest in what I was doing. He complimented me on my fledgling song-writing and came with mum to watch me sing at a school show. He was overly enthusiastic afterwards but I was happy to forgive him that, especially when he patted my bum. It was perhaps strange but this had become the usual greeting and farewell whenever I met anyone, not that I met too many new people, but it was something I really enjoyed. When James patted me I got all dreamy, giggly and goosepimply and felt a slight shock ripple through my body, which oddly enough made me wet my pants a little. This is one of the reasons why I was now wearing my nappy or pull-ups more regularly… although in truth, I didn’t need a reason.

 

Although Julie was spending a lot more time with her girlfriends and her boyfriend (she’d got a new one in tow) we still had occasional ‘baby’ sessions when she would dress me up before I went to bed. These were absolutely glorious times and I loved it when she pinned me in a thick nappy, slipped on a pair of plastic pants and fitted me into a onesie or footer. I liked the short onesie’s best because they felt really snug and hugged my protection. Mum had bought me a fleecy footed onesie that was very childish indeed simply because she knew it was something I’d like. I did but I preferred to have a short version and, ever resourceful, Julie got one of her very talented friends to adapt it for me. When I got it back, minus legs, it all snapped into place but she’d also had the seat and crotch areas padded. It was a terrific piece of engineering and even without my nappy and rubber pants underneath, it ballooned out nicely. However, despite it seeming a little ungainly it was very comfortable to wear. To be honest I loved the childish way it looked: The babyish cartoon pattern, the super-soft material, the bulkiness, my naked legs… all added to the image of a big toddler. Julie thought it looked fantastic and should go down to show mum just exactly what had been done to her present as she was sure she’d be impressed.

 

I was eager to parade my new acquisition so waddled down to see mum just finishing having dinner with James.  

 

“My god Danni, you look more of a baby than you did when you was one.” She said in mock horror. “But you were as cute as pie then… so you are just as cute now.”

 

A look of real horror flashed across James’s face and it stopped me in my tracks when I thought he might not like me anymore. Mum was making a fuss and looking at all the work that had gone into it but I was watching James through slightly averted eyes to see his reaction. Eventually, he appeared to make a decision and looked up at mum.

 

“Are you really going to encourage him to act… like this.” He seemed lost for words but angry. “Can’t you let him grow up and be a boy for crying out loud… look at him,” he declared accusingly.

 

I looked to the floor and I felt my eyes well up. Everyone else I knew didn’t mind me dressing up and I liked doing so. I couldn’t understand why he was so angry. However, mum hugged me close and told him he’d better go. He tried to talk her round but mum was adamant that he was to leave all the while holding me tightly as the tears rolled down my cheeks. James looked frustrated and annoyed at mum but eventually realised that there was going to be no sudden change of mind so he’d better leave before making things worse.

 

Mum and I sat on the sofa huddled together. I’d stopped crying but I was at a loss as to what to say though eventually mumbled I was sorry and that I hadn’t meant to spoil her evening. She patted my bare leg and hugged me closer.

 

“No one is more important than my two babies,” she whispered, “I’ll talk to James tomorrow…”

 

She left what she was going to say unfinished but I liked being cuddled by mum and hugged her equally as tight.

 

I began to think about what James had said. Was it too strange for someone my age to dress up? Why was he so angry, did he think that Julie, or even mum, made me dress in such a way and that I had no say in it all? His words had hurt and I began to feel really uncomfortable about my new outfit and his opinion on how I should be. I felt my chin begin to quiver again as if I was about to burst into tears but I fought back the emotion.

 

I wondered what would happen if James was my father… how he would expect I dress. Then I began to ponder about my real dad and was desperate to talk to mum about him but I was afraid at that moment to bring up the subject. It was something that had never really been discussed as mum had always been a very independent woman who had no need of a husband… but, was that why I liked to dress up?

 

We spent quite a bit of time in silence with her just stroking and petting me until I almost fell asleep.

 

“OK sleepyhead,” I was reluctantly released from her grasp, “it’s way past your bedtime.”

 

 “Night-night,” I kissed her, “I hope James isn’t so angry in the morning.” I added softly and toddled off back upstairs.

 

I was in two minds whether I should change out of my babyish outfit or not, in the end I was just too tired to be bothered and once in bed quickly fell asleep.

 

I woke up wet… so I was very glad that I hadn’t changed but I found I was still dwelling on what James had said. The more I thought about it the more I wondered what I should be wearing. I wore the same as everyone else at school (except maybe my occasional pull-ups), the same uniform, the same gym shorts, the same swimming trunks… why was it so awful for me to like… well… other stuff at home? I was confused, yet despite the fact that he’d hurt me by what he said and his reaction, for some reason I still wanted to please him. Perhaps it was me, he simply didn’t like me. I decided that if he was around I wouldn’t dress in anything other than what a boy should wear.

 

Over the next few days I only wore boy’s clothes. I even stopped wearing my protection on a night and I kept asking mum if James would be coming around. She said ‘not tonight’ and left it at that. However, one night I plucked up the courage to ask about my real father and the tale of the sexy young intern unfolded. Mum painted a scene of youthful love and coy courtship, which I believed at the time, but that he was too young to become a father and so mum “let him fly”. I asked her if she ever thought about him and what might have been. She smiled and shook her head saying that I was the only thing that she thought about and how grateful she was to him for giving her such a rare and wonderful gift. There was a lot of hugging and kissing and patting of my (now unpadded) bottom but she did add that she wasn’t going to invite James around again if the thought of him upset me. I told her I wasn’t upset and that I liked James and she should, if she wanted, have him call. She held me at arms-length and looked into my eyes.

 

“Are you sure?” I nodded and mum hugged me close to her chest. “You are the sweetest, understanding, non-judgemental…”

 

The rest of what she was going to say was lost as she kissed the top of my head and hugged even tighter.

 

Yes, I still wanted to get James’s approval and the only way I’d get that was if he came to the house. That weekend he arrived when I was in my room practicing on the piano and singing a new song. Normally this would have seen me sat there in just a nappy but because I didn’t want to dress up, I was wearing a blue jumper and pale blue shorts. There was a knock on the door and he tentatively stuck his head round.

 

“Hi Danni,” he nervously smiled, “that sounds good.” There was a pause. “Can I come in?”

 

I nodded and he came over and patted me on the shoulder. I looked up at him and I saw he was obviously struggling with what he had to say.

 

“I’m sorry for what I said the other day.” He crouched down so we were eye-to-eye. “It’s no business of mine how you dress or what makes you happy. I was silly to have reacted how I did and I didn’t mean to hurt you, or your mother’s, feelings.”

 

I could see there was concern in what he said. “Where I grew up you weren’t allowed to be different… you were accused of all kinds of things… you just… you became a target for…”

 

He struggled to find the right words but I just threw my arms around him and hugged as tightly as I would Julie or mum. Surprisingly he hugged me just as tightly back and that strange sensation rippled through my body and I could feel myself about to pee. I closed my eyes trying to stop myself because now, without any protection, it would show. He released me from his embrace and offered his hand to shake

 

“Friends?”

 

I was hoping he hadn’t seen the damp patch growing on my shorts so, as I held out my hand to shake his; the other was desperately trying to cover my embarrassment.

 

When he’d left the room I looked down and saw the dark stain spreading over my shorts. I rushed to my draw and pulled out a pair of pull-ups and quickly changed and found a similar pair of blue shorts to wear instead. I didn’t want him wondering why I’d changed shorts, if indeed he’d even noticed what I was wearing. However, now I knew he liked me (judging by the hug) I was a lot happier even if my pull-ups were included a little late in the day. Then I had a thought: I might need the pull-ups just in case James should hug again as I definitely didn’t want to have another accident.

 

“I see he’s back.” Julie couldn’t have been more condescending if she’d tried. “I thought we’d got rid of the gold-digger.”

 

I wasn’t sure what one of those was but the way she snarled as she said the word I knew it couldn’t have been anything nice.

 

“I haven’t seen you in any of your lovely clothes… I hope big gob there,” she nodded her head toward the door, “hasn’t upset you or put you off.” She again snarled dismissively.

 

“No, no. I just fancied a change.” I found myself lying and trying to defend him.

 

“Good… in that case, tonight I’ll get you ready for bed like I used to do… story and all.”

 

I smiled a grimace, which she took as agreeing, and almost skipped out of my room pleased that she was doing something for me that she knew James hated. She hadn’t heard any of the conversation I’d just had so didn’t know I was totally OK with him and him with me but I was left, for the first ever time, not wanting to be babied.

 

Julie was off out with her friends so mum, James and I went out shopping and then onto the park for the rest of the day. He had bought a football and despite my misgivings we had a kick-about. The fact I was hopeless didn’t matter as he was encouraging and taught me some moves and how not to be afraid to tackle. My gym teacher at school had tried all manner of methods to get me to do these things yet with James I was eager to try and hopefully change his mind about me... I wanted him to see me as a ‘proper’ boy. It was strange that I didn’t even try to impress the men who taught me I only ever responded to the women teachers. Yet here I was with a man I barely knew, desperate for his approval and attention. When it was time to go home, I was sweating like a pig, James was hardly breathless and mum was smiling from ear to ear at how well we were getting along.

 

It might be surprising for you to know but, even though I could stay up a lot later, being sent to bed at seven o’clock for so long when I was younger meant I really wasn’t a late-night person. Often I’d be in my room, especially on a school day, at seven and be ready for bed well before eight. Weekends were no great difference, Julie had got me trained well, and I’d struggle to sit through a film or TV programme and by nine I’d be slumped against mum or Julie fast asleep.

 

With all the excitement of the day I’d forgotten about Julie’s plan for us to have a ‘baby’ night so when she called me to take my bath at seven I was taken by surprise. I’d been sitting curled up against James and was enjoying the thrill of him and me together. However, Julie appeared in the doorway and called me to her (she wouldn’t come too near to James) but I was comfortable and didn’t want to move. James sort of nudged me and said that my sister wanted me for something and I caught that look on her face that meant I had better get moving.

 

“Come down after your bath,” he shouted as I followed Julie up the stairs, “and we can watch the movie together.”

 

I wanted nothing more than that, even if I fell asleep right at the beginning, I’d still be near him but Julie just grabbed my hand and almost dragged me into the bathroom. She’d already run me a lovely bubbly bath but I could see a look on her face that didn’t bode well for anyone… but me especially.

 

“So, are you two best friends now?” She accused through clenched teeth.

 

“Er… no… er… we… um…” I didn’t know what to say because we were hitting it off and I was so happy but at that moment I began to think I’d done something too awful to contemplate.

 

As she stripped me out of my clothes she angrily said what a terrible man James was, using mum like he did… “He’s only after her money you know.”

 

I didn’t know and I saw no reason to believe her but I could tell from the way my clothes were just slung in a heap that my sister was not happy at all.

 

“You wait and see that I’m right.” Almost distractedly she picked me up and dropped me in the bath. “He’s too… smooth… and way too young… he has to be up to something…”

 

Meanwhile, as she continued her rant, she was thoroughly, though roughly, sponging my body and I wasn’t enjoying this bath time like I normally did.

 

She was still calling him and berating me for being friends as I was dried down and led to my bedroom. She’d already laid out the various pieces of night time clothing and of course, I didn’t want to have anything to do with any of it… just then.

 

“Can we give it a miss tonight Julie?” I asked very nervously. “I don’t feel… er… in the mood.”

 

She stopped drying my hair and as the towel slipped from my head I caught sight of her eyes staring at me in… anger?

 

“So… that evil man has even turned my brother against me,” I tried to speak but wouldn’t have known what to say as she continued her outburst. “I thought I could rely on you not to change or have your head turned by a stupid man but oh no… you have fallen for his… his… con.”

 

She was really angry and upset and I didn’t like to see her this way as it both terrified and made me feel sorry for her. I knew I had to say something… but what?

 

“I do like him but… but… I love my sister and I don’t like to see her upset.” I hugged her and she eventually, after a few seconds of thinking about it, hugged me back.

 

“In that case,” I could feel the power in her hug, “shall we still play our game?”

 

No matter how much I didn’t want to dress as a baby whilst James was in the house I couldn’t let Julie down… and I think she knew it. I smiled and nodded and she rubbed me dry and had me lay out on the floor so she could start.

 

Her expression became more and more relaxed with each bit of lotion or powder that was applied. I’ve always relished her touch because I never thought of it as anything but my sister loving me. She thoroughly smoothed everything into my body with her usual sensual movements that made me completely calm and completely dominated. We giggled like two toddlers as she made it into a game but I was in no doubt she was in command of me and my body. When the preliminaries had been completed she retrieved a large nappy, fitted several pads and, despite my hidden reluctance, pinned me effortlessly into it all. Under normal circumstances I would have been more than happy with this state of affairs but at the back of my mind I was playing out the scenario – what if James sees?

 

I wriggled a bit uncomfortably trying to raise myself up but a hand on my chest kept me laid down. She produced a new pair of plastic pants, completely clear and very crinkly that she took great delight in slipping up my legs and covering the bundle I was now engulfed in. She’d got my white fleecy outfit ready and although I really liked it I certainly didn’t want to wear it then. Even though she had the bodice in her hand I asked her if we could find something else.

 

“What would you rather have?” She didn’t sound angry, which was a relief, but she did sound a little frustrated at my constant interruption of our game.

 

“Er… my blue onesie… or… no… my yellow footer, yes that would be nice, my yellow footer,” I was hoping that it would cover everything and to a certain extent hide my bulging nappy.

 

She went over to my cupboard and had a look checking on various items but it was all to no avail.

 

“I don’t think any of this will fit over your nappy sweetie,” she said as she closed the door and returned with my fleecy PJs.

 

I felt she’d already decided what I was going to wear so wasn’t going to get a choice and that she’d just pretended I would have a say. I wasn’t happy but I know when I’m beaten, and besides, I’d decided I wasn’t going to go back downstairs so James wouldn’t see what I was wearing. I gave in and let Julie fit me into it all and, now I was only thinking of us two, it was one of my favourite items and I loved the way it made me feel and look like a big baby. The bonnet, the mittens and the teddy in the matching outfit all added to the look and when she finally popped in my dummy and got me to settle down in bed, she said it was time for my story.

 

Julie was on form. She had made up a story about a naughty little schoolboy named Jim who was terrorising the playground but a nice schoolboy named Dan came along and saved all the other children from the nasty boy’s clutches. Apparently he wanted to sell them all into becoming living toys in a theme park. The story was getting good and Dan (yes it was me) had the evil park owners, who happened to be nasty Jim’s parents, locked away…

 

There was a knock on my bedroom door and mum and James popped their heads around.

 

“Just come to say night-night sweetheart,” mum said, “we thought you might be coming back down but I see you made other plans.” She came over and kissed me while James was still standing at the door. I could have died as I saw him look and I wasn’t quite sure what expression was on his face because I turned away as soon as I could.

 

“I’m just telling him a story about a naughty boy called JIM,” and she emphasised the name. “He’s a wrong one but thankfully, our hero Dan will save the day.”

 

I don’t think her barbed reference was lost on mum but she lightly kissed her goodnight and retreated out the door. I could tell that Julie was pleased that she’d made her point and that James had seen me all ‘babied’ as she started back into her story. Meanwhile, I was horrified at what had just taken place and that James had witnessed me looking as I did. All I could think about was no matter how much of a boy I wanted to be, all he would see now is me as a huge big baby with a dummy in his mouth. I wanted to cry but thought that would only make things worse and, on top of that, I was desperate for a pee.

 

James was still at the door and he called over. “Good night you two,” he got no response from either of us especially as I was just too embarrassed. “Danni, I think those are great PJs you look really very comfy.” I still couldn’t answer, “Well, good night.”

 

As the door closed there was a huge sigh from Julie and I looked back at her. She wasn’t happy with the way the encounter had turned out and slowly, without a word, slunk off to her own bedroom. Not surprisingly I felt a lot happier with James’s reaction and, even without the rest of Julie’s story, snuggled down to sleep. Once I was settled, and as James had pointed out, very comfortable, I gave in and let myself fill my nappy as I knew Julie had fitted enough protection to last a couple of days if need be.

 

Soon I was fast asleep and it wasn’t even eight thirty.

 

#

 

 

Danni – Part 17 – That Ain’t For Kids

 

Simon came round for a play date. I hadn’t seen him for a while but his mum had called and asked if it was OK as he was missing me. I think we were both shocked when he arrived.

 

His long hair was gone and was now cut very short, his girly clothes had disappeared and he was back in normal boy’s stuff. The main thing that had been missing had also returned… his self-confidence. Meanwhile, I think he was equally shocked to see me wearing boy’s clothes and, with no desire to dress up, we got straight into playing our games. We more or less tore up the garden as we charged around like mad gazelles making more noise than should really be allowed for two boys to make.

 

It was fun and I was happy because it reminded me of our very first play date at my house, I even wanted to get the pool out and splash away but mum said the weather wasn’t warm enough so that was that. Even though I hadn’t minded him being all girly it was great to have him back to the way he was and I fell back in love with the cheeky young lad who first appeared at school when we were dressed alike. 

 

At lunch, where he wolfed down everything, I was able to ask him what had happened.

 

“Two men and a lady came to the house,” he said after a huge gulp of milk, “they accused mum of something and told her that I’d be taken away if things didn’t change.”

 

He didn’t go into any finer detail but I could see mum at the sink washing up and pretending she wasn’t listening but she was.

 

“After they left mum cried a lot and hugged me but then cut my hair and… well… took me out to buy new clothes… boy’s clothes”

 

“When did all this happen?” I asked.

 

“Three weeks ago.”

 

“Are you OK with it all?” I wasn’t sure if I would have had trouble with such a change.

 

He looked down at the table top and whispered that there was still one thing. We’d finished lunch and went up to my room so he could tell me in secret what that one thing was.

 

“I still wear a nappy at night.” He sighed.

 

I looked at him and said that didn’t seem so bad. I was about to tell him that I occasionally did as well when he continued.

 

“Those first few nights I was given my PJs I thought would be… great…” he paused thinking how he was going to tell me the rest of his story, “but I couldn’t sleep.”

 

I nodded. “I just tossed and turned all night, every night for about four days until mum reluctantly suggested that she put me back in the stuff she’d made me wear… before.”

 

He shrugged as if he didn’t know why he was having such a problem. “I kept saying no and refusing but I couldn’t sleep so eventually she threatened me with a spanking if I didn’t at least try.”

 

I could see him frown “It worked and I slept like…”

 

“A baby,” I added mischievously.

 

He nodded and a smirk came to his face. “It was strange because… well… I’d got used to wearing… you know… protection and I really didn’t want to go back but…”

 

I finished his sentence, “You enjoyed it really?”

 

“Yes. I never realised that some of the things mum had made me do I missed when she stopped. I didn’t miss the dresses or the punishment but I guess…”

 

“Some of it was fun?”

 

He looked at me in surprise. “No… er… maybe… ummm… I dunno. When mum put me back in a nappy after I couldn’t sleep I would never have guessed just how comfortable it felt - just wearing a nappy? He added incredulously, “It seemed so… silly.”

 

He looked confused by his own thoughts. “But now, that’s all I wear to bed and mum is happy that she has… I dunno… she just seems happy when I wear them.”

 

He shrugged those shoulders as if he’d given up on any more thoughts trying to work out the way he… or his mum were.

 

I hugged my best friend close. “You look a lot happier.”

 

He beamed that huge smile of his and which I hadn’t seen in recent times. “Yes and I think she’s going to send me to an all-boy’s school next year.”

 

I knew I’d be soon changing schools but mum had decided to send me to one locally not the one where Simon was going, which was fee-paying and about an hour’s drive from where he lived. In fact, I’d heard James mention this school to her as a possible place for me to go but she’s never liked the idea of private and privileged education or the idea of me boarding, she wanted me at home with her as much as possible. James had gone to a similar place himself and spoke very highly of it, saying that my talents would be encouraged and I would flourish, but mum was definite in her opinion of exclusivity and she didn’t want me to grow up with a ‘giant entitled chip on my shoulder’.

 

That night I went to bed at my usual time of seven o’clock, slipped into a disposable (and nothing else) taped it on tight and lay there thinking about Simon. This was how I imagined he would be and it gave me a thrill to think of him in this way. I’d seen him in all kinds of outfits, some I really loved, but I think it was this simple night time attire that appealed to me most. As I caressed the soft bundle between my legs thinking about him, hoping that he’d be wearing the same and, perhaps, even thinking of me, I had a strange ‘shiver’ that ran through my body that made me wet my nappy in a way I’d never done before.

 

Mum’s business was once again the object of some serious take-over interest. As mum hadn’t floated shares but gave profit dividends to those who worked for her, she was able to fend off these approaches and keep her staff happy. Her successful advertising agency had recently grabbed a huge contract from a major cereal company for the launch of a new product. It was for a breakfast bar and there were millions budgeted for its world-wide unveiling. What had won her the contract was, once again, Julie’s brilliant mind.

 

Though mum’s agency had come up with some great ideas none had clicked with the client. They wanted something that would be memorable and instant yet the team had been struggling to come up with a suitable hook. That was until mum had brought home the item in question and asked her ‘panel of experts’ (me and Julie) what we thought. We both chomped on the bar in question and simultaneously grimaced. My response was “Yuk”, whilst Julie looked at mum in disgust and said, what have now become very famous words, “Blllaaggg. That ain’t for kids.”

 

Mum knows a good hook when she hears it and immediately took our response into her team, had them work on a presentation that ended with that particular four word peg, offered it to the client who was delighted. It was funny and cut out the boring bit about vitamins and stuff.  Whatever their thinking it proved very successful and the TV commercial became a bit of a classic. Although it appeared almost negative advertising, the client loved that the product was aimed at grown-ups but decided that kids would eat it if they wanted to appear grown-up. I definitely didn’t want another taste of the thing and I didn’t think it had anything to do with the fact I was sat in my damp nappy whilst I tried it. For me at least growing up would not rest on eating an awful cereal and fruit-filled piece of cardboard… although those last comments by me were left out of the finished commercial.

 

Despite my occasional nappy use I was growing up. Because James was around so much these days I’d more or less stopped dressing up. However, prompted by Simon, I now preferred to sleep in only a nappy or pull-ups. That influence went further as I asked mum if she’d let me have my hair cut like his, I wanted it short instead of the thick flowing blond bush I ‘d had all my life. Julie thought I’d regret it if I had it cut, she thought it made me look sweet, cute and handsome. Mum was neither for it or against it but said she liked the way I looked. James encouraged me to ‘give it a try’ and as he pointed out, ‘It would grow back if I didn’t like it’. His opinion mattered to me so I asked if he’d take me to the barbers to have it done.

 

There was a cheap and cheerful place on the High Street that I’d seen on my way home from school and where I’d noticed other kids lined up waiting their turn. Up until then mum had always cut my hair, it was just one of the many things she did, so this was going to be a new experience for me. We arrived early one Saturday morning and there were four people waiting and a young lad about 4 years-old already in the chair. I noticed his mum looking nervously on as the boy flinched each time the barber snipped away at some of his fine hair. I think I was just as anxious as that little boy.

 

Eventually it was my turn and James had been very chatty and encouraging. The man with the scissors said to him, “How do you want your son’s hair?” James looked a bit flustered and almost began to say I wasn’t his son however, when he saw that I was giggling at the question he said, “Cut it all off.”

 

The barber put down his scissors, picked up the electric hair-clippers and on James’s recommendation of a size 4 (whatever that was) simply removed my thick pelt (that’s how James referred to it) in minutes. I was shocked to see how quickly my hair was dispatched, normally mum took ages over each hair but this was done in just a few swift front-to-back strokes. The boy in the mirror returning my stare… wasn’t me. I’d been changed and it took a few seconds to come to terms with how different I now appeared. I didn’t know if I’d made the biggest mistake of my life but James’s smile (and little whistle of appreciation) made me feel good about myself. Having said that, I was really glad I was wearing my pull-ups because I let out a nervous little pee when the buzzing clippers first touched my head. Thankfully my jeans didn’t show the accident so no one was any the wiser but all the way home I knew what I’d done and wondered if the little boy in the chair earlier might have had a similar mishap.

 

Mum hardly recognised me and Julie just tutted in disgust but, with James’s support, I was really happy with my new look. I think my hair was even a little shorter than Simon’s but I hoped we’d look the same next time we met up. In the meantime, James and I started a game of football in the garden, something I rarely did but, with my new look, thought this was what is expected of a rough tough lad.

 

It didn’t occur to me that the reason I spent most of the day itching was because of all the fine hair that had somehow found its way down my back and invaded everywhere. I was scratching like mad until the evening when mum suggested a bath. I wandered upstairs to the bathroom only to find that Julie had already filled it full of soapy bubbles. My hoped for  independence was not going to happen anytime soon as she stripped me and put my itchy outfit in the laundry basket. I took the opportunity of leaping in unaided but Julie still decided she would make sure I was clean (and itch free).

 

I hardly had time to play with my toys or even enjoy the bubbles much before she started a detailed scrub of all my bits and pieces. She spent more time than usual cleaning my ‘willy’ as she said, with a knowing wink, that it now needed extra care and attention. I wasn’t sure what she meant but it was giving me a very strange feeling as she scrubbed away.

 

Once out and dry she led me to my bedroom and I told her I didn’t need any further help as I just needed a pair of pull-ups and I’d be done. She raised her eyebrows and went to the draw to retrieve one. She then went to my wardrobe and looked through all my fantastic baby items and fingered her way through them all.

 

“Are you sure you don’t want to wear one of these?” and she pulled out a blue onesie with a teddy on the front.

 

I shook my head and waited naked for her to give me my protective pants.

 

“What about this… you know this is one of your favourites…”

 

“No.” I was being adamant that I wanted nothing other than to wear the same as my best friend Simon.

 

She pulled out my ‘Jason’ outfit. “I haven’t seen you in this for a while… don’t you like it anymore?”

 

Actually, I did still like it. I liked all my clothes but at that moment I didn’t want to wear anything but my disposable.

 

 “Nothing else… thank-you.”

 

I got up to get my own pants from the draw but she spun round and said how much of a shame it was that I’d lost my individuality, yes that was the word, and was now influenced by people who wanted to make me… boring. She carried on about how I used to be unique, different and special but, thanks to other people, had become dull and like every other boring boy.

 

I was hurt by her comments. I liked the fact that she thought of me as special… but now I wasn’t. I sat on the side of my bed a little numb rubbing my hand through my short hair, wondering if it was its length that had made me special when she said something that will stay with me for ever.

 

“Danni you are unique, don’t try to be like everyone else.” I could tell from the tone of her voice she wasn’t angry with me but was sincere in her opinion. “It’s up to you of course but, neither mum nor me would want to change you even if others do… remember that. We love you for being the way you are. For you… being you.”

 

She opened the wardrobe door wider, “Enjoy all the things you like… there’s not one thing in here that doesn’t have happy memories for you.”

 

It was true. I loved my stuff. I loved wearing my stuff and until Julie had pointed it out, I hadn’t realised how much I’d missed it. I could feel the tremor start on my bottom lip. My loving sister immediately came over and put her arms around me and hugged tightly. Tears had welled up in my eyes but Julie soothed me with her gentle cuddling and sweet words.

 

Soon I was calm again and Julie fastened me into a disposable. “Is that all you need?”

 

She pulled out a pair of plastic pants and without me saying a word, fed them up my thighs. Once in place she then went and found the short blue onesie, slipped it over my head and snapped it into place between my legs. A teddy and a dummy were also included without so much as a sign of any resistance to her calm and caring influence. She pulled up my blanket and kissed me good-night.

 

“You are my sweet, sweet brother… and I’ll always look after you.”

 

I’d not had chance to go to the toilet before all this took place but I was now wrapped up and so very, very comfortable I wasn’t going to let that worry me. If I peed I peed… and as I settled snuggly under the cover that’s just what I did.

 

#

 

 

Danni – Part 18 – Decisions

 

It may seem surprising to some people just how easily I’m influenced by my sister. I can’t help it; she has always been there guiding, teaching and controlling my life. Even when I think I’m gaining some kind of independence, thinking for myself and making my own decisions, she only has to say or do something and I’m straight back to being a dependent little kid again. My sister is very clever. When I was younger she exerted unbelievable authority over every aspect of my life, now I’m older, she lets me think I’m the one with the ideas, the one in control, but I’m not. She lets out the leash so that I think I’m running free but quickly I’m reined in and I find myself once again in her power.

 

Having said that, my sister has other interests now so I’m not the centre of her thoughts or deeds and the passing cruel streak she occasionally inflicted on me seems to have disappeared. Now she is much more thoughtful when she desires a response from me and of course, she knows exactly how and when to push those buttons.

 

Laid there, once more in my onesie, plastic pants and a soaked nappy the only thing that had changed – I was now a short-haired baby in need of her love and affection. After her words of warning not to become boring I’d made no attempt to stop her as she let me slip back into my babyish ways. In fact, I’d been relieved when she’d fed the blue onesie with my favourite image of the teddy bear on the front over my head and snapped it into place… it was like a ‘Welcome Back’ hug. I’d missed it more than I’d thought and was more or less still wriggling in delight when I woke up. At that moment I desperately wanted either Julie or mum to come and change me but for some time now I’d not really depended on anyone else to get me up and ready for the day ahead.

 

I pulled back the bedclothes and was pleased to see the way I was dressed. The nappy had done its soaking duty and the plastic pants had kept everything else dry and my teddy, well my teddy just looked so proud of me. You can always rely on your stuffed toys to make you feel happy. I waddled to the bathroom, looked in the mirror and saw another happy image looking back. My short hair hadn’t made me more boyish, in fact, with the teddy on the front of my onesie, I don’t think I’ve ever looked so… so… young. What’s more, at that moment I didn’t mind… although I quickly stripped out of it all when I heard James knocking on the door asking if I was going to be long.

 

That was a weird moment. Part of me was so pleased to be back in my onesie, the other was desperate for James not to see me dressed that way. As I left the bathroom I sneaked my night time stuff under the towel and scurried back to my room. Thankfully there was no one else around to see me looking guilty and once back in its safe environment I was able to get ready for school without any problems. I decided against pull-ups on this occasion so slipped into a pair of white briefs, pulled on my grey shorts and energetically fought my way into my yellow school shirt and jumper.

 

Miss Simms was shocked at the ‘new’ me. She said I looked “Nice” but she didn’t seem too certain on that point. However, that was all soon forgotten as we had a new song to learn, in which I had several solo sections and was to be performed with the choir later in the day. The teacher, as she did almost every time we were together, patted my bottom and seeing as I had no padding looked at me in a quizzical way. I’m not sure she quite understood why my change - hair and padding now all gone - but carried on and spent the morning practicing the new piece, which I must say I really enjoyed. It started with me singing the intro, then the choir joined in, I had a solo verse and the choir re-joined and I ended the piece solo again.

 

Miss Simms was delighted with the way it all came together and was very pleased at how quickly we all picked up the song. Later, as the school assembled in the main hall to hear the Principal’s announcements and listen to our song, Miss Simms asked if I was going to be OK. I was nervous but excited. I liked the new piece and thought I was singing quite well. She patted my bottom again and emphasised her words.

 

“Will you be OK?”  Now it was my turn to look quizzical. “Do you not need your… protection?” She whispered the last word.

 

“Er… no… I should be fine,” I shrugged my shoulders.

 

“Are you sure? I can get you sorted if you need it.” She looked hopefully at me.

 

“No, I’ll be OK. I…”

 

“I have what you need in the classroom,” she interrupted, “if you think you might be too nervous. It’s quite scary I know singing a song for the first time in front of your school friends and teachers… and I’d hate for you to have an accident.” Now she emphasised the last word.

 

Up until that moment I was nervous but confident about my ability to perform but suddenly I had doubt in my head. What if I did make a mistake? What if I did pee my pants? I didn’t think I could really take the chance and Miss Simms was willing to make sure I didn’t have to.

 

She saw the look of doubt creep across my face, grabbed my hand and led me back to the empty classroom. There she sat me on her big desk, pulled down my shorts and underpants, opened up her huge handbag that was lying against the chair and took out all the things she needed.

 

“OK Danni, let’s get you ready… and protected.”

 

As the assembly would be starting soon she got straight to it; quickly spreading lotion, sprinkling powder and slipping a terry nappy under my bottom. This she hastily pinned into place and suddenly, from nowhere, produced a pair of pink plastic pants, which she wriggled up my legs and into position. I couldn’t get over how speedily she performed this miraculous change because it only seemed moments before I was back in my shorts and wondering down the corridor back to the main hall. The choir was already assembled and, with a lingering and reassuring pat on my now well-padded bottom, I joined them on stage.

 

I was slightly taken aback at just how organised Miss Simms had been and how protective she was to make sure I didn’t humiliate myself again. The thickness between my legs was indeed comforting as I stepped to the front of the stage to begin the song. My nerves disappeared almost immediately and I launched into it as we’d rehearsed. Whilst I sang the opening lines the choir gathered behind me and, right on cue, they burst into the chorus. It all worked perfectly and at the end, when I finished my final note, there was a moment’s silence. Those brief seconds of quiet soon gave way to wild applause from everyone assembled, including the normally indifferent Principal, who smiled and clapped along with everyone else.

 

I think it had been led by Miss Simms but even the teachers appeared moved by the song. Whilst I stood there, happy and surprised at the reaction, a shiver ran up my spine. It was like an electric bolt had travelled to my brain and at that moment and without any warning or ability to stop myself, I let flow. I could feel my pee soaking in and leaving a warming glow but at that moment I was so glad Miss Simms had had the foresight to think I might need such a necessary safeguard. Thankfully, I don’t think anyone else noticed and once the applause had died down, school was finished for the day and everyone was dismissed.

Julie was waiting in the playground to take me home and I was excitedly telling her about how well the song had gone down. She was saying she’d heard the end of it and all the applause from where she was, even the other mums and dads waiting outside were commenting. I told her it was me that was singing the solo and she smiled, grabbed my hand and looked very proud of me. My wet and expanded nappy didn’t stop me babbling on all the way home about how fantastic the day had been and how I hoped Miss Simms would let me sing more solos.

 

Back home I didn’t change out of my school uniform or my damp and thick nappy. I was still on a high about the performance and I wanted to repeat it to the family when mum got home. In the meantime, I didn’t want anything to break the spell that seemed to have engulfed me.

 

After dinner, with everyone assembled, I sang the song totally solo and, even with my shorts fully expanded by the wet nappy, I confidently sang my heart out. Mum, Julie and James all reacted the same as the school had and I was swamped with compliments, which made me feel very proud. I didn’t mention my ‘accident’ but mum did put in a call to Miss Simms to tell her what a fantastic job she was doing, encouraging me to take solos and helping me become more confident. I’m almost sure Miss Simms never mentioned that she needed to fit my protection and I didn’t want to say anything either, just in case anyone thought any less of me.

 

Just after seven I went back to my room to get ready for bed. I’d cast off my jumper and shirt and slipped down my shorts when Julie came in. She saw me standing there in just a soaked nappy and thick pink plastic pants and smiled.

 

“Did you need that,” she looked directly at my bulge, “to sing.”

 

“No… er… well… it made me more confident.”

 

She came over and stroked the plastic padding. “I haven’t seen these before. They look a bit thicker than the ones you normally wear. Who gave you these,” she asked accusingly,

“was it James?”

 

Had that been the case she would not have been pleased but as it was I had to think quickly. “No… er… Miss Simms bought them when we went away to that competition. I’d forgotten mine and I was quite scared so she… got… me… some”

 

I was feeling less and less confident about my explanation but, because it wasn’t James who had supplied them, Julie didn’t seem bothered about it being anyone else. She appeared to be less worried and offered to help me get ready for bed. I was so thankful that she wasn’t delving any deeper that I agreed.

 

That night I slept in an ultra-thick nappy, my ‘rediscovered’ frilly ‘panties of excellence’ and a pink onesie with cartoon characters all over it. It had been a very exciting day and I was very tired. I even declined a story from Julie and settled down quickly between the blankets. She slipped one of my stuffed toys in next to me but on this occasion left me without a dummy. I didn’t need it because warm, safe, comfy and tired I was soon heading for dreamland.

 

I woke up dry but had another thought that was filling my mind… and that was… which should be my next school. The reason that notion was uppermost in my head was that part of a dream that I could remember involved being tied down and made to recite some poem over and over again as part of an entrance exam. Don’t ask me the ‘whys and wherefores’ because I have no idea why that should be the case. However it had got me thinking very hard about any choices. Mum had already made her decision. James had offered an alternative. I was keen to give the one Simon was going to attend some thought and I had heard Miss Simms offering her advice on trying to get into one of the church academies, that favoured singers and musicians. She was of the opinion that I’d walk into any such school and they would be “falling over themselves to have me…” well… so I overheard her say to mum one evening.

 

The way Simon had excitedly described his new school; what they did and what an adventure (not being with his mum I suppose) it would be had got him all fired up. He desperately wanted me to join him and I have to say I liked the idea… a bit. My head was full of all the possibilities, although mum had already said where she was sending me, but perhaps I might be able to change her mind. However, Julie came into my room just as I was about to release my onesie and I thought I’d ask her for an opinion.

 

She thought for a moment and then steered me towards the mirror. My onesie had drifted up past my waist and the main item I could see were my special ‘panties of excellence’ with my nappy underneath. I wasn’t sure why she had me look at my reflection so intently but after a few moments she asked me if I liked what I saw. I wriggled uncomfortably at the question.

 

“Er… yyeeessss.” I said not knowing where Julie was going with this.

 

She was standing behind me with her hands on my shoulders.

 

“Do you like it when we play dress up?” I squirmed a bit under her gaze.

 

In a low voice I responded “Mm mmm…” and nodded.

 

She patted my frilly silky protection and turned me around to face her. “I doubt very much if they’ll let you do that if you go away.”

 

I looked back at her stunned. It hadn’t occurred to me that I might have to give up something to go to school.

 

“But why,” I asked sorrowfully. “It’s only playing isn’t it?”

 

She hugged me. “They wouldn’t understand you Danni.” She stroked my hair to calm me down. “Schools find it hard to appreciate those who are special… they just want to make them all the same… like James.”

 

I wasn’t sure what he had to do with anything but of course she had her own agenda to pursue. “Look how boring he is.” She continued, “He hasn’t got a scrap of the talent or individuality that you have… you really don’t want to end up like him.”

 

I knew she was meaning well, for me at least, but this attack on James didn’t make sense, after all, I quite liked the man.

 

Whilst I was pondering her words she got me laid back out on my bed and proceeded to strip away my protection.

 

Even though I was dry she smiled as she applied the first wet wipe “Of course you wouldn’t get this done for you either.”

 

Her busy hands cleaned and powdered and I just lay there enjoying the attention. As I lifted my legs for her to get a better access she produced a pair of pull-ups and slipped them on. She then grabbed my shirt and jumper and had me wriggle into them before finally allowing me to slide into my school shorts.

 

Now looking in the mirror I didn’t see a little baby but a schoolboy and I wondered at such a quick and effortless change. Is that how it would be? Would it be as simple as that?  Recently I’d gone weeks without dressing up, and although I’d missed it - I had done it. Would I be able to dress up when I came home in the school holidays? Would I want to? Would I be changed for ever and, more importantly, is that what I wanted?

 

I knew mum had more or less made up her mind as to which school I’d be going but, although it had been mentioned, I hadn’t been consulted in any way. At school I’d asked a few of the other kids what they were doing and nearly all of them would be going to the same school mum had earmarked for my future education. Miss Simms still hoped she’d be able to convince mum about the Choir School option – apparently they were excellent both academically and musically and, as she pointed out, performance was part of their strict but inspiring philosophy. I had no idea what that meant but she seemed most definite as to that being where I should continue my next level of education.

 

That night after dinner, Julie had gone to her friends, James wasn’t around and it was just me and mum. Although I knew she had a ton of work to do we sat on the sofa to watch some TV. I snuggled up close and she alternated between stroking and kissing my head.

 

“Mum.” I cautiously started.

 

“Yes sweetheart.” She kissed the top of my head but continued to watch the screen.

 

“Er… senior school… ermmm… do I get a say in where I want to go?”

 

I was really quite nervous of asking the question. I didn’t know if I had any right to ask but some of the other boys in my class had said they had said to their parents where they wanted to go.

 

Mum turned off the TV and looked at me. “Of course sweetheart… do you have any thoughts?”

 

“Mmmm yes. I was thinking I might like to go to the same one as Simon.”

 

“But that’s a boarding school sweetheart… I thought you’d want to go to the local school and be able to come home every night.” She seemed a bit uneasy at my choice.

 

“Well… what about the one Miss Simms has talked about where I’d be singing all the time?” I enthused.

 

“That’s the same… you’d be away for weeks on end.” She looked pained at the very idea. “I don’t think I could bear not having my sweet boy here with me.”

 

“But I like to sing mum…”

 

“They have a choir at senior school… er… I think.” Now she seemed doubtful. “I’m sure you’d find friends to sing with…

 

“But Miss Simms said…”

 

“Yes, yes I know her suggestion. She says it would be ideal for you and, I have to agree it would be just the thing to develop your talents but…”

 

“Is it because we’d have to pay?” I innocently asked having no idea how much money private schooling cost, or indeed how much we had.

 

Mum smiled. “That’s not a problem and that’s not something you should be worrying about… I think we could manage the fees.”

 

I had no idea how rich mum was. I know Julie had said that James was after her money, a gold digger, but money just didn’t mean anything to me and although we lived in a nice house with gardens and such things, it never occurred to me we were any different to anyone else.

 

“OK. I tell you what.” Mum looked teasingly at me, “You think on it for a few days and then tell me which you prefer… and then… if you’re positive… we’ll make some enquiries.”

 

I snuggled up closer. “Thanks mum.”

#

 

Danni – Part 19 – The Choir

 

I really couldn’t make up my mind. Leaving mum and Julie didn’t appeal but being with Simon at an all-boys school did. Miss Simms was adamant that my future should be at one of the music academies and she favoured one she knew where the boys were boarders and their time was split between music and academics. I couldn’t think what that would be like because, although I liked to sing, I didn’t want to be somewhere I didn’t know anyone, especially as I’d be away from home. Miss Simms offered a solution. She knew the choir master at one of these schools and suggested, as she was going to visit him that maybe I would like to go along and check the place out for myself. As she pointed out; at least I would know the alternative, even if in the end I chose somewhere else.

 

To me this sounded a great idea and I begged mum to let me go. We would be away for the weekend, leaving on Friday, driving to her friends and returning Sunday afternoon. This, Miss pointed out to mum, would give me ample time to see the way things were set up and to chat to some of the other boys who were boarders there. Although mum wasn’t keen on the ‘churchy’ aspect of the school she could hardly refuse as I was so enthusiastic about the trip. I liked the idea of singing in a choir, and, as my teacher pointed out; the choir had a recording contract and produced a couple of albums each year as well as making several TV appearances. I was very excited about the trip… to say the least.

 

After a few conversations with Miss Simms mum eventually agreed to me going. We would be setting off straight from school so in preparation mum had packed a bag to take in with me. It had been another great day both at play and in lessons and, when she had the time, Miss would talk about some of the things I could expect when I got to the new school. I was really looking forward to seeing the place, which was apparently attached to an old cathedral.

 

After the end-of-lessons bell sounded I found my way to Miss Simms’s room and sat waiting whilst she finished marking some papers. She wasn’t long but I was amazed at just how quickly the school emptied. It also surprised me just how quiet the place was once the kids had all gone home. “Eerie” that was what she called it when I commented on this astonishing event.

 

Soon she was ready but just before we left she patted my bottom again as she was prone to do.

 

“You don’t appear to have your protection on do you?” She said seriously.

 

“No Miss.” I stammered. “I don’t need it all the time I’m…”

 

“Not to worry,” She pulled out the same big handbag from last time. “I can get you sorted now.”

 

“But I… I…”

 

She looked at me as if I was a small child who’d forgotten something important. She wasn’t mad but it was something that had to be put right.

 

“It’s a long journey Danni and I’m hoping to do it without stopping so…” She pulled out a disposable.

 

“But I don’t need them. I travel with mum all the time without…”

 

But it was no use. She pulled down my shorts, laid me out on her desk and quickly applied a covering of baby powder. I was quite shocked. It wasn’t something I expected but I knew better than to argue. Once again the training of compliance by Julie meant I just lay there and let her get on with it. She added a couple of pads to the disposable then quickly pulled it up tightly and fastened me in. It felt huge and the yellow plastic pants that followed crinkled loudly as they were fed up my legs. With some difficulty she pulled up my shorts but they hardly fit at all.

 

She smiled at the finished product. “That should keep you safe for the journey. Now, let’s get going.”

 

Holding her hand I waddled out to the car and got in. I wasn’t as happy about being nappied as I would normally have been because I saw this as something I just didn’t need. The fact that my shorts barely covered this huge amount of padding was uncomfortable and not easing my mood. However, once in the car she noticed how grumpy I’d become and told me to take off my shorts if they were giving me trouble. I slipped them down and was left wearing just a pair of ballooning, shiny yellow plastic pants, which incidentally matched the yellow of my school shirt and jumper.

 

“There you are,” she smiled “comfortable?”

 

Surprisingly I was and once buckled into my seat we were off. The plastic pants made a noise if I moved but they were also very silky and it was a strange, but nice, sensation slipping around in my seat. Miss started singing a song and before long, I’d forgotten all about what I was wearing and the miles just shot by. When I’d sung something particularly well she patted my naked leg and said what a good boy I was and we’d try and sing it in harmony or in a different melody. We drank orange juice and ate chocolate and I think she was having as much fun as me and her constant encouragement and praise made me feel terrific. I loved pleasing her.

 

We’d been travelling about two hours when I told her that I needed to go to the toilet. She looked down and smiled.

 

“Well Danni, that’s what all the padding is for sweetheart… just do what comes naturally.”

 

“But can’t we just stop… Please Miss I’d rather not…”

 

“Danni, the traffic is building up and I don’t want to delay us any more than I have to… and besides…” She took a slightly different tack. “It would make life easier for me if you just used the nappy when you’re wearing one. It’s what makes you so… ‘special’.”

 

It was that description of me again as being ‘special’ and although I didn’t see why wetting myself made me so… I know to do just as I’m told.  Besides, this was my teacher she must know best and should never be argued with. Mum would have a fit if she thought I was giving Miss Simms any sort of back-chat. I couldn’t hold it in any longer so reluctantly I sat quietly whilst I drained my bladder and filled the nappy. She was well aware of what I was doing and patted my leg.

 

“There you go… well done. I bet you feel better now.”

 

I did but it also meant that I had to spend quite some time in a squishy nappy.

 

Sometime later we pulled up outside an old cottage on the outskirts of the city. I looked at Miss Simms and indicated that perhaps I should try and put my shorts on as I didn’t want to meet anyone dressed in just my protection. However, try as I might I had to stop the struggle with them and gave up. A few moments later an elderly man came to the car door to greet us.

 

“Hi Stanley, hope we’re not late.” Miss Simms beamed at the man who beamed back. “This is Danni…”

 

“Hello young man,” he said as I clambered out of the car, “I’ve heard so much about you from your teacher.”

 

“This is Mister Cooper,” she added, “If you came to this school he’d be one of your tutors and choir master.”

 

“Hello Sir… pleased to meet you,” I was trying to hide my yellow pants and thick nappy behind the bag mum had packed.

 

“Come in, come in, we don’t want you standing on the doorstep.” And we entered a lovely warm old room that was filled with sheet music, a grand piano, an ancient looking sofa and a roaring fire.

 

I was embarrassed as I walked because of the loud rustling noise my plastic pants made but neither of the two adults appeared to notice or care. Indeed Miss just guided me in and told me to put my bag down next to a hat stand. I didn’t really want to do that as it would expose my embarrassment but she took it from me then patted my bottom towards the sofa. With each step the rustling noise made me think I was attracting too much attention but, even when I sat down amid a flurry of scrunching noises, neither batted an eyelid.

 

I was still wet and wanted to get Miss Simms attention in the hope that I could go somewhere and change. Unfortunately, Mr Cooper had brought in tea and biscuits and it would have been rude to excuse myself at that point. The choirmaster was very jolly and, in between talking to Miss, he was telling me about the school and choir. He hoped I’d find it a place that I’d like to attend and said that there were other boys, about two hundred of them, from the ages of eight to sixteen and that I would no doubt fit in very well.

 

Despite that fact that I was feeling self-conscious about sitting around in my wet nappy nothing about my dilemma was mentioned. I didn’t know whether it was because many boys at the school wore nappies for one reason or another, or he was just a very polite host. Whatever the reason I liked the man and he seemed very encouraging.

 

I began to forget about how I dressed and when he asked if I would do him the honour of a song I leapt at the opportunity. Miss Simms gathered herself at the piano and suggested I try the song that I’d sung in assembly a few days back and which had been so well received. I’m not sure if I looked ridiculous or not, standing at the piano in my school uniform and bloated plastic pants, but as soon as she played the first note I forgot all my reservations and launched into the song.

 

“My boy… my boy… that was superb.” Mr Cooper seemed happy with my attempt. “Absolutely beautiful… exquisite… a triumph.”

 

He came over and rested his hands on my shoulders and looked seriously into my eyes.

 

“We would love to have someone of your talent join us here. In fact, if it were possible, I’d be more than happy to put your name down now.”

 

He questioned Miss Simms about my other academic achievements, which she spoke of highly and he just nodded his head and mumbled to himself ‘wonderful, wonderful’.

 

He requested another song and I asked if he’d like to hear one I’d written myself. He looked surprised but nodded as Miss left the piano to me.

 

My song writing was still at a very early stage but there was one I’d written, actually inspired by Julie called ‘Storyteller’ that I was quite proud of.

 

When I finished Miss Simms was obviously impressed and clapped wildly, Mr Cooper clapped politely, I don’t think it was his kind of thing but he said he enjoyed it and that I certainly showed a great deal of promise. Both of them patted my padded bottom as I went back to sit down on the sofa.

 

By now it was getting late, well at least for me and I was stifling a yawn as the two grown-ups chatted away. I asked if I could be excused and Miss looked dismayed that she’d been neglecting me.

 

“Sorry Danni… let me put you to bed.” She held out her hand for me to hold. “Same room as usual?” she called over her shoulder to Mr Cooper as I was guided up some creaking stairs.

 

“Yes, I’m sure you know your way by now.”

 

My bag had been deposited at the foot of a large double bed and I thought this was terrific to have such a large bed to myself. Miss went to the bathroom to run some hot water in the sink and whilst she did that I began to undress. She returned just before I slipped out of the plastic pants and suggested I did that in the bathroom. I wondered in and was astounded to see laid out on top of a cabinet a plastic changing mat surrounded by  a jar of petroleum jelly, baby powder, pink baby lotion and a box of wet-wipes.

 

She began to help me off with my soaked nappy but I pulled away saying that I could manage myself. She looked down at me and tutted with a smile.

 

“I promised your mother I’d look after you… that means making sure you are completely clean and tidy and… protected.”

 

I knew mum would have packed my pull-ups and boxer shorts to sleep in and that’s what I wanted to wear but Miss had other ideas. I stood at the sink naked as she scrutinized that I washed thoroughly. Even after I finished she lay me out on the changing mat and wiped me all over again… I wasn’t sure what she thought I’d missed. I asked her if I might just wear my boxers but she said that, as I was in a strange bed, in a strange room, in a strange house she thought it would be better if I was well protected. “We didn’t want any unfortunate accidents”. It was obvious I wasn’t going to have a say and if Miss told mum I’d acted up in any way I’m sure she’d have been none too happy.

 

This time she took what seemed ages (well compared to how she’d done it in the past), to make sure I was well protected. The powder, followed by a thick terry nappy, stuffed with pads… although this time she added a pair of thick red rubber pants that covered the lot. There was no doubt about it I was very, very well protected, in fact I felt huge and impenetrable and for a brief second I was angry. I wanted this trip to show I was growing up, to prove I could make my own decisions, to be a schoolboy not an infant. However, when she’d finished Miss Simms kissed me on the forehead and said that was what makes me so ‘unique’; the fact that I can enjoy the pleasures of being a toddler, whist being a fantastic maturing young man, and she hoped that wouldn’t change for a long time yet.

 

It is hard to protest when someone is being so nice to you and I was feeling very comfortable wrapped up the way I was. Just as I crawled to get under the sheets with my brilliant puffy red bottom stuck in the air, Mr Cooper stood at the door and said ‘Goodnight’.

 

I was horrified that he saw me once again dressed as nothing more than a big baby when I’d wanted to prove I was like all the other boys in his school. He saw my look and came over and sat on the side of the bed.

 

“Don’t worry Danni, there are lots of boys of all ages who wear protection on a night. You must not worry about such things and, as long as you feel safe and comfortable, that’s all that matters. Miss Simms thinks you are a very special boy and I think I’d agree with her assessment. So have a nice night’s sleep and tomorrow I’ll introduce you to some of the boys.”

 

“Thank you sir,” I whispered as he patted my head and excused himself.

 

Miss Simms wished me a good night as well, turned off the light and followed the choirmaster down stairs. I could hear the creaking as they descended and settled down in this huge area I’d been given to sleep in.

 

I dropped off almost immediately but was slightly disturbed when Miss Simms got into bed with me. Once again she smelled wonderful as she clutched me to her bosom and I drifted off under the sweet fragrant spell of her perfume.

 

During the night I had a few different dreams. One was of meeting other boys who were all dressed in nappies and singing hymns… the other was of thick vegetation with tendrils curling about my body and holding me tight. I was scared and couldn’t release myself so the inevitable happened… I wet myself. Oddly enough this was a recurring dream and I must have visited it about three or four times… by morning I was very tired and very wet.

 

Miss Simms, who was already dressed, roused me from my slumber, checked my soaked nappy and decided she’d change me after breakfast. It was much later than I normally slept and Mr Cooper had already left to go to the church for choir practice. Miss said we’d meet him there once we were ‘organised’. It was odd sitting at the table in my huge red pants and soggy nappy drinking orange juice and eating jam on toast.

 

After breakfast Miss saw to my needs by wiping me down and cleaning me up. The thick nappy was replaced with my pull-ups, in fact she insisted that I wear two pairs and she included a blue pair of snap on plastic pants, “for added protection” she said. I don’t know why as I knew they weren’t needed but again I thought it wise not to argue with my teacher. Besides, I was meeting some new people and I might get a bit nervous so I began to think that perhaps she was correct after all. I was hoping to wear my jeans over it all as I would have done at home and especially as it was the weekend. I also didn’t want to be wearing school shorts when I met the other boys, I didn’t want them thinking I was still a junior.

 

However, Miss efficiently slipped a pair of dark blue shorts that I’d never seen before up and over my new security padding. They appeared to hug everything tightly but were longer than my school shorts, finishing about two inches above my knees. I baulked at wearing them and said so. I wasn’t going out dressed like that and she could tell my mother if she liked but I wasn’t going.

 

However, she patiently showed me that these were very different. They were soft and had a lovely feel if you stroked them. Miss said they were made from velvet they were ‘special’, like me and how good I looked in them. I wasn’t convinced but as I rubbed my hands across the fabric I liked the texture and thought they did indeed feel very ‘special’. She went on about how smart I looked, how much they suited me, and anyway the boys we were going to meet would also be wearing something similar as it was part of the uniform they wore when they were performing on stage.

 

I still wasn’t happy but I supposed that if everyone else would be wearing the same then I didn’t have to worry. Eventually she talked me into it and said that we’d only be at the church for a short while so I had nothing to worry about. I made her promise that I could change once we got back. Reluctantly I gave in and about ten minutes later we arrived at the cathedral where I could hear some wonderful voices.

 

Members of the public were allowed in and I was surprised at how many people the choir attracted even when they were only practising. We stood at the back for a few minutes listening to a rousing hymn, which I have to say made me desperate to join in. My velvet shorts had made some kind of impression because a young girl (about three years-old) rubbed my leg and I heard her say to her mother that I felt like her teddy bear. I looked around and she was smiling and holding a rather sleek looking stuffed toy in her hand.

 

I didn’t get the opportunity to be embarrassed because as the choir finished their song Miss took my hand and led us down to the front. In the quiet of the church all I was aware of was the soft rustle of my plastic pants as I walked and that many eyes were now watching our progress down the aisle.

 

When I got to the front we were greeted by Mr Cooper but I noticed that the entire choir were wearing cassocks which covered them completely. I became very self-conscious as the boys looked at me and I could feel humiliation creep up my body in the form of a hot flush. However, I followed the boys into a backroom, apparently practice had ended for the time being, where they disrobed and I noticed that it was only the very young boys who wore shorts as part of their uniform, the older boys, those over twelve, wore long trousers.

 

Mr Cooper introduced me to the group and I nervously started asking my questions. He then led Miss Simms off to another room and left us boys to chat without any adult supervision. The boys were fun and friendly and I liked them a lot. They all loved singing and enjoyed the fact that the school was famous; their albums selling very well and, according to a nice lad called David, the year before they’d had a Number One hit in the Christmas Classic album charts. They told how much they enjoyed boarding and that the teachers were all fantastic. Apparently not all the pupils were in the choir, just a select few and places were much sought after. It was great to see such enthusiasm for a school and none that I spoke to wanted to be anywhere else. Even the youngest, who I thought might miss their parents, were saying how brilliant the school was.

 

I asked about the uniform and the cassocks and the amount of rehearsals they had to do but no one was complaining. Surprisingly two boys stroked my shorts and commented on how ‘fantastic’ they were. I asked when they wore theirs but they shrugged and said that they didn’t. One said that in some old photographs he’d seen the choir wearing a ‘school boy’ uniform but they didn’t now. Miss Simms had lied to me so I was in a bit of a dilemma because although no one at the school wore them I’d got used to the shorts and liked the style.

 

After about an hour I have to admit I was really sold on the place. Some of the boys had said that we would all be boarding together and I liked that idea, especially as a couple of them reminded me of Simon. The choir master returned to take control of his noisy flock, while Miss said that perhaps we should go leaving the boys to practice. I was reluctant to leave the choir as they sounded fantastic. Meanwhile, at the back of my mind I was hoping I could perhaps persuade mum to let me come to this place.

 

Miss Simms asked if I had any questions for her and if I did, “…why don’t we do it over an ice cream sundae?” By then I’d forgotten all about my short trousers (and the padding underneath) and was only eager to have the promised treat. Miss seemed as excited as I was about the school and was even happier when I said how much I’d enjoyed meeting all the boys and that they had just about convinced me to join them. However, I wondered, would I have to sit some kind of exam?

 

Miss smiled. “You’ve already passed the entrance exam. They have seen your school results and the songs you sung for the choir master were enough to guarantee you a place… should you decide this is what you want.”

 

As I tucked into my strawberry and vanilla ice-cream sundae I felt content and convinced I could be happy at such a school.

 

After the treat she took me to the main school building, which was slightly away from the cathedral, and I got chance to look around the grounds and inspect the boy’s rooms, which would be where I’d be boarding (she kept saying) when I came. After that we visited all the various sights the city had to offer and thought that it was a really nice place to live.

 

By the time we returned back to Mr Cooper’s house we’d been away nearly the entire day but thankfully, he had found time to make us all a meal. In all the excitement I had wet my pants. I don’t know why I just didn’t think I could ask to go to the toilet so I didn’t. I was afraid to mention it to Miss in case she saw it as an opportunity to wrap me in a heavy nappy so I put up with a very soggy pull-up for the rest of the time before bed.

 

After dinner Mr Cooper asked what I thought about the school and my possible school friends and I was very positive. I was still wearing my velvet shorts and although he hadn’t commented on them I thought I should ask the question.

 

“Miss said that the boys wear shorts like these when they perform, is that true?” I looked across at Miss Simms who was smiling weakly at me.

 

“It was a uniform that they used to wear… well… something similar… though not in velvet…” He raised his eyebrows, “However, there has been talk by the governors, who would like to see a return that particular style.” He smiled. “They think that the ‘Retro’ look would set us as apart from other choirs.”

 

“They would look stunning…” she said hopefully to Mr Cooper.

 

“Yes, well, maybe… but the boys have got to be happy. Tell me Danni… do you like them?”

 

Now I was being put on the spot I wasn’t sure what to say because I was torn. I didn’t like the way Miss had tricked me into wearing them but, they were unlike anything else I had ever worn and did like them.

 

“Er… they’re alright… they’re comfy…” and I had a sudden thought, “Some of the boys said that they liked them as well… so… maybe…”

 

“Well that is good to know. Thank you for your opinions Danni, they are greatly appreciated.” He smiled and sat at the piano.

 

I liked Mr Cooper, he was softly spoken, easy going, charming and seemed to understand my views, which I found very appealing. We spent the next couple of hours singing and laughing and any questions I asked of him were answered with humour and complete friendliness.

 

When it was bedtime I went back to the room and waited for Miss Simms I needed to talk and was turning over in my mind just what to say. She arrived a short while later and sat on the bed next to me.

 

“Why did you trick me into wearing these?” I pulled at the velvet shorts.

 

“I’m sorry Danni but,” she was searching for her own words, “you are growing up. Soon you’ll be leaving and going to a new school and I won’t be there.

 

I’d never heard her sound so intense… or nervous.

 

“There is something about you Danni that, in all my years of teaching, I have never seen before; an acceptance… no… a love… of being childlike. Most boys your age are in a rush to grow up but, perhaps thanks to your mother and sister, you are happy to take your time.”

 

I wished I hadn’t said anything now.

 

“Danni, I know you like being babied.” I was shocked when she said the word. “I’ve known for a while and I think it is one of those things that make you ‘unique’… and I’ve tried to help you with that. In fact I’ve wanted to encourage it. I think a boy like you should never be made to give up something… erm… something that makes him happy because others might think he should. Be a boy for as long as you want because you are a long time grown up.”

 

I didn’t know where to put myself.

 

“I saw these shorts and immediately thought how much they would suit you… and they do.” She stroked the fabric but averted her eyes. “You’re getting a little older but, and I’m sure I’m not alone in thinking this, you look so damned cute in shorts. Even now, with your short hair… well… you look stunning in them. The entire cathedral was envious of me having such a lovely boy holding my hand.”

 

She was trying to smile but I could see there was a great deal of emotion in her eyes. Some of the things she mentioned echoed with what Julie had said to me on previous occasions and I wondered if and why I was supposed to be so ‘special’.

 

Miss was still speaking. “I thought you’d like them and, when you eventually do leave school and I was no longer around, you might like them enough to wear them and think of me. Selfish I know but I’m never going to forget you Danni and I was hoping you’ll never forget me.”

 

All this was just too much and I hugged and cried and told her how I’d never forget her and how much she meant to me. She was sobbing a little as well and we held each other for quite some time before she said it was time for me to get ready for bed.

 

I let her take care of me. She gently removed my shorts, folded them and put them in the bag mum had packed. She pulled out my boxers and asked if I preferred to sleep in them for a change but I shook my head. Five minutes later I was once again trussed up tightly in thick protection and settling down to sleep after a pretty full and exciting day.

 

#

 

 

Danni – Part 20 – New Beginnings – Final Chapter

 

For the next few days I was full of it. All I could talk about was St Saviours’ school and choir and how much I wanted to be part of all that. Mum pointed out that only days ago I’d said I wanted to go to school with Simon… was I sure about this? She called Miss Simms and had a meeting about it and although she was of course very positive, she sympathised with mum about me not being home all the time. “We’ll all miss him,” she’d said but thought it was the ideal place for my future education and ‘talents’.

 

Mum hated the idea of privilege but conceded the fact (as James pointed out) that it was time to cut the apron strings and let me mix with other boys. The one thing that was missing in my life was being surrounded by other boys and the influence that would no doubt have on my development. I wasn’t too sure what he was getting at but mum seemed to eventually agree with some of the points he was making. Julie simply didn’t want me to go and I found it hard that she tried to stifle my enthusiasm for the place by being a bit stand-offish. She wasn’t nasty, she just had an air of ‘I don’t care’ about it all and that hurt. She didn’t want to discuss it, offer any advice or anything, she simply said (in a very off-hand way) “If you’re going, go… just don’t go on about it.”

 

She rarely visited my room now and my dressing up and being babied by her fizzled out. I still wrapped myself in various items before I went to bed but the intimacy that Julie and I had was now gone and, left to my own devices, it simply wasn’t the same. To make up for this I had started to wear a nappy under the shorts that Miss Simms had bought for me. I really did like the feel and when I was wearing them I thought happily about how Miss had been so understanding, caring and… dare I say it… loving about me. Mum had never asked me about the shorts, I assume she thought it was something that Julie had dreamed up and Julie probably thought it was something mum had bought in a moment of good taste. The point was that Miss had become my substitute Julie. I spent as much time as possible in her company. We upped the number of private piano and singing lessons at her home and although it never happened, I hoped that she’d dress me in a thick nappy and plastic pants, whilst I stood at the piano doing my vocal exercises.

 

Even with Miss Simms encouragement mum wasn’t happy about St Saviours. As I’ve said she had a problem with both privilege and church and didn’t want me spoiled by either or both. However, credit to her, she wanted me to enjoy my next level of education and if that meant boarding school, then so be it. Another interview followed with just mum and me travelling up to the school and for her to check out the facilities, which she found surprisingly excellent, and make some kind of financial arrangements with the Principal. Once everything was agreed, then, come the new term, I’d be a pupil and boarder at St Saviours.

 

I was nervous and excited at the prospect of this dramatic change by next term. In my head I thought it would be just like school now, I would be teacher’s favourite and I’d get all the solos. Miss Simms had to set me right on a few of these assumptions. Firstly, I would be in the junior ranks of the choir and solos couldn’t be guaranteed. Every member of the choir would have a superb voice and I would be just one of a group of twenty-four. Most songs were choral pieces for choir and not solo numbers… she went on.

 

Suddenly I wasn’t quite as keen as I had been and when she told me that no one there would encourage me to dress up or let me wear protection I became even more despondent. Julie had been correct (as usual) I wouldn’t be allowed to slip into a nappy when I wanted unless there was a medical reason. I was rapidly going cold on the entire idea but said nothing to mum. On the other hand James was nothing but positive about my selection, he thought it would bring a whole new dimension to my life and one that would better equip me as I got older.

 

I confided my worries with Miss and asked her what I should do. She was very clear, as she had been all along; I needed to go to St Saviours as it was just the right ‘environment’ for someone with my ambition, talent and growing academic achievement. The state school was nice and there were benefits to staying local but, if I wanted to grow, learn new things, experience a different lifestyle… St Saviours was the ideal place for all that to be nurtured. In her opinion the staff and the choir offered much more than I’d get from ‘…any other educational institute’.

 

Simon was disappointed that I wouldn’t be going to the same school as he was but remained pretty excited about becoming a boarder. His mum had all but finished making him dress as anything but a boy but still encouraged him to wear his nappy at night. However, as his new school term approached he had weaned himself off that particular desire… as he said.

 

“I don’t want to give the other boys a reason to have a go at me.”

 

It never occurred to me that other boys would ‘have a go’ as I’d always found most people supportive. However, Simon was in no doubt that wearing anything, anything even remotely different from what the others were wearing, would offer problems he could do without. He said he wasn’t even going to take his teddy bear; he would have to wait until the end of term and came home to receive his cuddles. He was definite, his nappy and pull-ups would be left at home and no amount of playful coaxing on my part would make him change his mind.

 

He asked what I intended doing differently as he was sure they wouldn’t let me be the way I was at home… I was speechless. Even though it had been talked about I hadn’t given it much thought, surely, why would anyone object to me dressing up? I just hadn’t thought about it as deeply as Simon had and it began praying on my mind that perhaps I’d made a terrible mistake.

 

However, James was being very positive and told me that when he was at boarding school it was all brilliant. All the new and exciting things I’d learn, the fantastic new friends I’d make, unbelievable events that I couldn’t even think about now would, he was sure, happen once I was at my new school.  

 

“It will be the best thing that ever happens to you.”

 

He smiled and hugged me at the same time and I felt comforted by his words.

 

“Don’t be afraid of the unknown… embrace it… enjoy it… live it.”

 

Again James seemed to be talking in sound bites but as he was the only independent authority I had on anything, I was pleased that he was so positive.

 

Over the next few weeks leading up to my move I think I dressed up less than I’d ever done in my life before… and I missed it. I could have done it myself but without the encouragement from Julie it just wasn’t the same. On a couple of occasions I begged Julie for us to have a ‘night together’, a not very clever code for me being babied and having a story told, but she just told me no and to get used to it. I got quite depressed.

 

I realised that big changes were going to happen once I got to St Saviours but I didn’t understand why things had to change at home. No one had forced me to stop, no one had forbidden me to dress up but for some reason I just couldn’t bring myself to continue.

 

I lay in bed wearing my now usual t-shirt and boxer shorts; gone were the pull-ups, the nappy, the plastic pants, the onesie, the… well… everything I ever liked and for some unexplainable reason I burst into tears. The only comfort that was still nearby was my teddy bear; the one who wore the fleecy outfit like the one Julie had made for me. I hugged him close as my body heaved with huge sobs. The comfort he offered was not enough as my entire body shook with emotion but I didn’t know why.

 

It was Julie who heard me crying. Ever the big sister she came into the room and sat on the side of my bed and tried to soothe me with sweet hushes and kind words whilst stroking my head. For a while I was inconsolable but Julie stayed until I had calmed down. All this time, when I needed her, she hadn’t showed me much consideration at all and although I’d resented it, this I needed. I looked up into her eyes and hugged her tightly and she let me. My sobbing was retreating under her sisterly love and eventually, with my arms wrapped around her, I gradually quietened down.

 

“You okay sweetie?” She patted my back and I felt comforted.

 

“Huh huh,” at that moment I wasn’t thinking in words.

 

“You’ll be okay,” she kept patting my back, “it may seem terrifying now but it will be fine.”

 

I hugged her even more tightly, “How do you know?”

 

She pulled me away and looked into my eyes, “Because little brother, you are the one boy in the entire world who isn’t scared of anything.” She wiped away the last remnants of tears on my cheeks.

 

Julie then did something she had never done before; she pulled back my covers and got in beside me. Shuffling me over so she had plenty of the bed she slid down and put her arms around me once again and I felt safe.

 

“It may seem scary but you, you Danni, you will have the best of times.”

 

“But why does it all have to change?” I whined a little.

 

“Because you are growing up and things do change… my little brother is becoming a man and I don’t want to stop him from doing just that.”

 

“But you liked dressing me as a baby,” I suddenly had doubts, “didn’t you?”

 

“I loved being your big sister. I love being your big sister… and yes I did like dressing you up… you were like a real live doll… and a really pretty doll.”

 

Although I couldn’t see her I knew she was smiling at the thought and so was I.

 

“There were times I know I got cranky with you. Those times where when I was growing up and didn’t understand my own mind and I took it out on you but I never wanted to hurt you,” She chuckled to herself, “Embarrass you… most certainly, but, well, you seemed to enjoy all that.”

 

I turned to face her. “I did… and still do… but all that’s gone now and I miss it. I miss you.”

 

We hugged each other tightly.

 

As we lay there together it was the nicest feeling I’ve had for some time. Just being close to Julie like that had settled me down and I was enjoying the intimacy as I began, now completely relaxed, to drift off to sleep. Just before I floated off altogether I felt her rub my bottom then whisper in my ear.

 

“I don’t think someone is dressed properly for beddy-byes are they?”

 

I gave her a sleepy giggle.

 

“We’d better change that hadn’t we?”

 

I suddenly became more awake as she pulled back the covers, pulled down my boxers and went to my closet to get a nappy. She returned with lotion, powder, a couple of disposables and my silky ‘panties of excellence’.

 

“Now,” she said with a gleam in her eye, “let’s get you ready for a damn good night’s sleep.”

 

I had a huge smile on my face all the way through the proceedings. Each intimate touch had me giggling my response and Julie chuckled as she expertly got me ‘properly’ ready for beddy-byes. The lotion and powder was spread with more affection than I could ever remember and the disposables wrapped snuggly gave me a feeling of immense pleasure. She shimmied the silky panties up over the bulge and, as a final piece of theatre, produced one of my dummies and popped it into my mouth.

 

“Now you’re ready.”

 

She hugged me tightly and didn’t make any attempt to leave as we snuggled together. I fell asleep with my big sister holding me tightly and occasionally rubbing my tummy or stroking my silky bulge.

 

I was so happy.

 

In the morning Julie had gone but I woke up with a smile on my face and a very wet nappy… and I couldn’t have been happier. I didn’t remember how or why I’d wet myself but the fact that I had didn’t worry me in the least. I was so pleased that when I got up I didn’t even think about changing, I just pulled a pair of shorts over it all and went down for breakfast.

 

Mum was sitting reading the paper and James was getting the milk from the fridge.

 

“Morning sweetheart… did you sleep well?”

 

She smiled as she heard me rustling up to the table and put her hand on mine.

 

“You okay sweetie?”

 

“Yes mum… I had the best night’s sleep I’ve had for ages.”

 

I poured the milk that James offered onto my cereal.

 

“Julie and me chatted last night…” I took a mouthful, “she told me everything will be okay at my new school.”

 

I looked at both James and mum to see their reaction and both raised their eyebrows and nodded in agreement.

 

“Well good for her… and good for you.” Mum pressed my hand again. “I see that wasn’t all she did for you.”

 

I knew what she meant and timidly smiled as I took another crunchy spoonful.

 

I spent the rest of the day wearing my night time protection. I had a feeling it would be the last such event for some time and I wanted it to last. I even managed to keep the soggy mass in place until the evening when it really was too far gone to be of any comfort. I would have liked to have had Julie come back and dress me up again but I suppose I realised that that was going to be the last time, well until I returned in the school holidays… perhaps? Everyone seemed to be of the opinion that once I started at St Saviours, I would have loads of other interests that would keep me occupied. I doubted it but was now, with Julie’s blessing, prepared to give it a go.

 

I have to admit that I cried as my mother drove away from the school. I wasn’t the only one and there were a few of us new boys trying our best to look grown up in front of the older students. My new uniform and everything I’d need for boarding had been packed and delivered to a room I’d be sharing with five other boys but I was very nervous of what to expect.

 

I was very tense and I began to wish that I’d taken the precaution of wearing a pair of pull-ups (at least) at this very stressful time.

 

“Hello Danny.”

 

It was one of the lads from the choir I’d met on my first visit with Miss Simms.

 

“Oh, hi… er… do you know where we should go?” I hesitantly asked but pleased that there seemed to be one friendly face.

 

“I think we’re roomies… follow me.”

 

This was terrific news as the boy was David… and he reminded me a lot of Simon.

 

Within minutes I was surrounded by four other boys, one of which, like me, was new to the school but that didn’t seem to matter as we were all soon chatting away about family, friends, pets and music. We had a great deal in common and when David produced his guitar and started strumming, the ice was well and truly broken as we had a sing-song right there and then.

 

I was desperate for a pee but didn’t want to spoil the moment and again I wished I’d worn a disposable. However, I remembered what Simon had said about not wearing anything different to the others and, as I couldn’t tell if any of my other roommates wear wearing anything other than normal underwear, I thought it probably for the best that I’d left all that behind.

 

Besides, it was only going to be a few weeks before we got a break and returned home. I was sure I could wait that long before I slipped into something soft and bulky that would give me great comfort.

 

======================

THE END

After you've finished reading, you might want to return to the DailyDiapers Story Index