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A Done Deal

Another upsetting night’s sleep – my duvet was bunched up and looked like I’d had a fight with it, the fleecy throw was caught up in some kind of jumble with my pillows and worst of all, my nappy, as it had been for the past few weeks, was soaked.

A few months ago a nightmare scenario started where I was either being chased or attacked by something which I couldn’t identify but found incredibly scary. I’d fought this unknown monster, I’d done battle with an unseen force and when, after the second encounter and second soaked bed, my mother (step-mother) had demanded I wore protection until the phase (as she called it) was over, I didn’t like it.

I shouted and screamed my absolute refusal, which didn’t go down well as I’d got to the stage (being fifteen) of arguing with every decision she made. That was until dad (Howard) came and ‘had a word’, which has seen me resentfully wearing a thick terry cotton nappy to bed every night since.

Dad is a practical man, an intense man; he’s also a very important and busy man and has little time for ‘stupidity’. He listened to all my arguments as to why I shouldn’t wear a nappy and then slowly, but methodically, disassembled each one of my points as either being unreasonable, selfish or simply illogical. He pointed out a nappy was what I needed and so that’s what I would wear. No ifs, no buts, it was all a ‘done deal’, that mother was right and I should “just get on with it”.

+

My real mum had died when I was barely two years old so I don’t remember her too well but dad had remarried when I was five. He’d actually been seeing Diane for a year before he introduced us and was told that I was getting a new mummy... and new baby brother.

She moved in, they married and I now share a house with my step-family of Diane, Richard, who’s nine, William who’s seven and now, eight month old twins, Jane and Alfie. My father is a good man, he’s a pathologist at a lab in the city and we’re close and although Diane is a nice lady, as I’ve gotten older, for some reason I’ve grown to resent her and my brothers and sister.

I suppose, because I’m the eldest, it’s fallen to me to look out for my siblings but now I’ve had enough of baby-sitting and being, what I feel is, a general dogsbody.

Dad keeps telling me it’s what I get an allowance for but I feel I do more than my fair share of... well... everything. Which I suppose is what has led me to arguing all the time because mum is always at home now with the twins so I’m expected, because dad is out at work all day and has late hours to make extra money to keep a roof over his family, to ‘step up more’.

Bloody hell... I do enough around the house I barely get a moment to myself. I rarely get chance to go out because of school work and the family. My mates don’t come around anymore because of the constant demand for attention from everyone.

“Jason can you do this?” “Jason, can you do that?” “Jason can you do the other?” “It will only take a minute” It never does and once started there’s always something else... it never bloody ends. “While you’re there can you...”

The house is a mess and all about the twins; the smell of pee and powder and if the weather’s bad clothes and washed nappies drying on radiators. Constantly being told to be ‘quiet’ because they’re sleeping and because she is always involved with them, I’m supposed to keep my two younger brothers occupied to make sure they do their homework (projects) which I also have by the way. If they need to be at football practice or some after-school activity, it’s me that has to chaperone them. The list never ends and so I don’t get much time to myself. I resent everything and everybody.

+

Before the nightmares began, and I suppose it linked in to when the twins arrived, I’d begun to have little accidents. What I mean is that occasionally I’d pee in my undies, not enough to cause too much trouble, like stains on my trousers or jeans, but enough for me to know I’d better change my briefs pretty soon. I kept these little accidents secret and was able to deal with the wet undies myself. However, something else seemed to be bothering me and I didn’t know why. I know that with the announcement that twins were on the way, dad, and mum to a certain extent, went into panic mode and I suppose, because I’m the eldest I noticed more than my brothers.

I’m of the opinion that the twins were an accident: certainly from just how fraught the house has been since their arrival. Dad already was overloaded with work and now, with extra family to feed and clothe his life/work load is immense. I’m not sure if some of his obvious anxiety has rubbed off on me. We used to be quite a happy little bunch and dad had time for us all. Diane, was also pleasant to be around but now she just gives the impression of being constantly worn out and complains she doesn’t have the time to ‘pretty herself up’ for dad or for them to go out occasionally.

As a result her attention has turned to me as the eldest to ‘help out’ but I already did that but since the twins my workload has escalated and I rarely see anyone except at school. It’s as if she’s decided that if she isn’t going to have fun and do what she wants then neither is anyone else.

However, somehow with the twins came a number of new friends, mothers all, who pop around and tell Diane what a wonderful job she’s doing, what a hero she is looking after such a diverse family and that it’s quite right to expect me to step up. She’s been encouraged to be ‘the queen bee’ and we’re all there for her pleasure. Well that’s how it seems from the comments I get when they’re all around sipping tea (or sometimes a glass of wine) and complaining about their own lives and how easy men have it. Of course they often bring their kids around and so there’ll be a couple of screaming babies or tots seemingly having a breakdown.

+

I’m not sure if I could blame the twins on my initial wet pants but I ask myself if all this extra responsibility is the reason I’m seriously wetting at night and have to wear a nappy to keep from nightly flooding the bed. I’m fifteen so of course shouldn’t be wearing a nappy any time, which means I’m constantly in a bad mood.

This is not helped by my step mum also being in a very ‘fragile’ mood, when it comes to me. If I’m in a mood, she’s in one. Of course my younger brothers are too young to take on too much responsibility but they get praised for doing the slightest thing and I’m held up to ridicule for complaining about the amount I have to do.

As a result my step-mum has it all worked out and it appears I’m there to benefit her decisions. She gets fatigued with the Jane and Alfie, and as dad starts work early, I have to fill in while she’s ‘resting’. As I say, I have to make sure the boys are up and ready for school fully dressed and breakfasted... and have done any homework, which I have to say, at their age is very simple but still it takes up my time and have precious little of it as it is.

I’m sick of it but now, because of these unsettling night time activities, which result in my daily soaked nappies, I’m constantly in a state of anxiety. Mum has pulled me up on several occasions about my ‘attitude’ and has decided that I’m just like the twins and need similar treatment. She seems to get a kick out of putting my nappies and plastic pants out on the line next to theirs. It’s embarrassing because it means neighbours know, though suspect, because of my ‘attitude’ towards her, she’s already gleefully told them that she now has to nappy another ‘baby’ in the house.

This doesn’t stop my resentment but at least I have my own room where I can occasionally find time and space for myself. However, even that is no longer private as she’ll waft in without so much as a knock and deposit my laundered clothes, and clean nappies, with a flourish and give me a condescending smile as she makes sure I’m aware of the crinkly plastic pants she blatantly puts on the dresser.

“Your protection darling,” she announces with a forced grin, “you will let me know if I’ve got yours and the twins nappies mixed up won’t you?”

I’ve asked for privacy but she just smiles and whispers that babies who still need their nappies don’t get privacy. Then flounces off leaving me steaming but with nothing I can do about it.

At one point I was so angry I told her that I’d go off and live with my grandparents (on my mother’s side) and she just laughed and said that an incontinent teenager is no doubt just what they want in their dotage.

He actual words were, “Bugger off then, I’m sure they can’t wait to look after a pants wetting, obnoxious little shit like you.”

She’s twelve years younger than dad and has the ability to be as sweet as pie when in public but as vicious as hell if you get on the wrong side of her. Which I have to say has become a great deal more noticeable since the twins arrived.

+

Dad has quite a liberal, easy-going background where diplomacy, discussion and reason are the way people interact. He has always been there for me and we get on very well. I respect him and listen to what he has to say. I never used to argue with him.

Diane on the other hand comes from a family that has a military background, where she and her three brothers were in constant competition for their parent’s approval. They moved a lot from bases around Europe, so were never settled for too long, or there were long passages of time when their father wasn’t around as he’d been posted overseas. I suppose, if there’s conflict and your dad’s involved, that must leave you in a state of nervous anticipation the entire time he’s away. However, in a family of such an abundance of masculinity, the sole daughter had found that by undermining those brothers she often was able to deviously direct action her own way.

I’ve never met that side of the family. At the registry office wedding I can only remember dad, her and me, plus the registrar and a couple of witnesses. I gather that because she was pregnant said she didn’t want others to know her ‘condition’ so a big wedding was out of the question.

Thinking back, maybe I might be remembering this wrong, but I might have overheard granny telling someone she thought dad had been tricked into marrying her... but I could be wrong. I might have just thought that myself.

+

Dad had warned me about my attitude towards his wife... I mean... I stopped calling her mum but she wasn’t happy with me calling her Diane so sent dad to have ‘another quiet word’. She insists that Richard and William call her mummy and now when she speaks to me she calls herself ‘mummy’ to me as well. If dad isn’t around I try and fight back but she just tells him when he gets home from work and I’m back in hot water. Then he goes off on one saying he expects me to pull my weight around the house, less back chat, more respect for what she has to do... oh... and act my age. Diane then undermines that by treating me like a little kid. She doesn’t let me forget I still wet the bed so sees me as just a big ungrateful toddler who still needs to wear a nappy.

“I wasn’t there when you were a baby,” she gives me that sickly smile, “but there again; it looks like you’re reliving being one. How lucky am I to get to change your soggy nappies?”

I seethe with rage but, as she’s holding up my well-soaked morning padding, it’s hard to argue the point.

The weird thing is she doesn’t seem that bothered about the wetting because as far as she’s concerned, the bedding is safe now I’m well contained at night. She has said, in one of her less aggressive moments that it’s no trouble washing my nappies as she has the twin’s daily contribution to do anyhow. She makes out she’s a martyr and I’m an ungrateful teen who acts like a toddler going through his ‘terrible twos’. She demoralises me all the time and dad, because he’s so busy and under a load of work-related stress, says “Listen to your mum.” He thinks, because of what Diane has said about me, that I’m just acting out and should be “contributing - not alienating” everyone around me.

It doesn’t help that at her insistence either she or dad has to help me with the pins and material to make sure my night time nappy is on correctly, although I suspect it’s more to make sure I wear one to protect the bedding. Yes that’s the other thing, she’s not only convinced dad that I need a nappy but I’m too incompetent to sort it for myself so need supervision.

She mentions the extra laundry she had to do when all this first started (‘as if I don’t have enough to do’ she complained to dad) and insisted on not only a waterproof mattress protector but as I’ve said, nappies and plastic pants to act as the best barrier. She convinced dad that I’m too resentful not to try and take it off so she needs to be sure. So, I’m supervised each night to avoid any possible leakage, which in truth they did on a few occasions where I half-heartedly put the nappy on myself. Dad has taken her side in all this (I suppose I can’t blame him too much because I’m fifteen and wetting the bed) and often looks at me as if I’m doing it on purpose... but why would I?

+

Before all this my bedtime was when I wanted to go, I didn’t have a specified hour but ‘just be sensible’. However, now, because I have to be put in protection she insists I am ready by 8pm (at the latest) because she doesn’t want to be changing me at any time of my choosing. Sometimes, and I’m sure it’s out of spite, she tells me to get ready as soon as I’m in from school as she’s too tired to worry about putting an ‘argumentative teenager’ back in a nappy when it suits him. Dad takes her point and agrees which means often I’m wearing a nappy around the house when I’m still doing chores or worse still, when her friends pop by. I try and escape to the privacy (as if) of my room but that isn’t always possible.

I’ve complained that I can’t go out like that but she says that’s up to me. If I want to go out there’s no one stopping me, which is true but how can I go out and meet friends whilst wearing a nappy? My friends haven’t yet abandoned me but I see them so rarely, apart from school, that I might as well be a recluse.

As I’ve mentioned, ‘Mum’ on the other hand, has loads of ‘friends’ who also have kids and all seem to congregate at our house. There’s barely a pause in the number of people who are always popping in or ‘just passing’ and of course my nappies are not a secret to any of these visitors. Diane happily discusses my problem as if she’s talking about the twins and though I’ve objected and asked dad to have a word he just tells me to get over it.... “What if they come up with a solution?” and that puts an end to my complaint as far as he’s concerned.

So far they haven’t and I don’t anticipate they ever will (find that elusive solution) but it’s an argument I can’t win so the humiliation continues. If I’m in the living room or just passing through she’ll make a comment, or one of her friends will, and, as I say, she always speaks as if I’m a baby, so they do as well. I hate everyone and everything yet still can’t stop this night time flood, which of course makes me even angrier but also makes Diane’s position that much stronger. And if I’m being honest the constant stream of pee seems to be getting worse.

+ tbc +

Part 2

Diane had Howard on side pretty early on. She continued to point out that his son, although getting older, was also getting more confrontational and disrespectful to both of them. As far as she was concerned this was not only a terrible thing to have to put up with but an awful example for Richard and William, who would be looking to their older brother as a role model.

“He needs to be shown that, as things stand, he is no more an adult than Jane or Alfie and should be treated as such... before he gets too clever and thinks he’s something special.” Diane’s anger at her stepson’s perceived disrespect for her and all she did for him meant she was not to be trifled with on these points.

“I don’t think wetting his bedding makes Jason something ‘special’,” his father tried to joke.

“Really, then why is he doing it?” Diane was adamant and wouldn’t let up, “I’m the one who has to do all the laundry, change the bedding and put up with his constant contempt. If I was you, as his father, I’d insist he wore a nappy all the time so he doesn’t forget he’s nothing more than a bed-wetting child.”

She threw the last phrase in with equal contempt she thought Jason paid her.

“Yes, yes, okay, I see your point.” Howard really wanted an easy life. His work was demanding and had long hours. If he had to go to court (where he hated sitting around waiting to be called) it meant other work had to be caught up on by his understaffed team. They, and he, were under constant pressure after government cuts causing tailbacks and the usual ill-conceived processes those cuts would cause. There was never enough time and everyone wanted results STAT or yesterday. It was never ending demand so could have done without his son causing problems at home and thought, with the twins now in the picture; he’d have been able to rely on his eldest for a modicum of sensitivity to the situation.

There had been a time, and it didn’t seem that long ago to Howard, that his family got on well together. To him they were the complete set in Happy Families and that’s what he hoped was still the case. However, since the twins, and the extra work they brought, priorities changed and with that change... so did other things. Jason, who up until then had seemed a reliable teenager, had suddenly become, well, a teenager. When the family was focused on the new arrivals, he wanted some freedom and began to think about his own needs and not that of the family. The fact that, for no apparent reason, he’d began to have wet nights, which at the beginning he confessed to be down to anxiety nightmares, only added to a strange combination of individual requirements. Unfortunately for Jason, his timing was off because the twins were the centre of attention and was far too busy to get involved.   

Howard didn’t want to fight his wife (she’d had a tricky time with the twin’s birth) who was correct about his son’s awful attitude, it had been getting worse. So, on his next quiet chat with Jason he laid down the law. That meant, if there were any further complaint’s from Diane, all his grown up privileges would be taken away and just so he knew how that would feel, he’d be wearing nappies at night as a precaution.

Although his father wasn’t an angry man there was a perceived warning in his voice that Jason took seriously. To his horror he couldn’t help but notice that dad, a rather intense but thorough man, always looking forensically at a problem or situation, had decided to side with his wife. This hurt the boy because they used to have a much closer relationship. Jason resented the way he now had to share his dad with all his other kids and although he’d grown up with them that irritation was growing. Unfortunately, as that rage was growing so was the intensity of his night time wetting.

He met every request from Diane (though not so much his father) with a grunt, an under-the-breath swear word or a huge put-upon sigh. He was being a teenager but that, together with his wetting problem, meant Diane wouldn’t put up with any of it. Her not coping was far from the truth, she was determined to succeed in getting her stepson to heel – she was the one in control whether her hubby or anyone else knew that or not.

“Just do as you’re told,” his father tried to rationalise the situation with his son, “she’s only doing what’s best for you and your constant obtuseness is not helping your case in the slightest. Make life easier for yourself and just get on with what she suggests... and then we’ll all be happy.”

His father never recognised the hurt and betrayal his son felt.

+

That first night when he was returned to wearing a nappy was quite traumatic for Jason. Of course he’d wet a few times but now everyone knew about his problem it was embarrassing. His father had made good points about why he needed to heed what his step-mum suggested and although in part agreed, he couldn’t bear the thought of letting her win on any of them. He may not have wanted her to have such a say in what happened in his life but his father had, bit by clinical bit, reduced his argument to being that of a selfish irresponsible boy who was only making things worse and who really didn’t know what was best for him.

While he didn’t like the direction the ‘chat’ was going his father had made some irrefutable points (like his step-mum) but the one about waking up to a wet bed ‘just like a baby’ was the one that stung the most.

“But I’m not a baby,” Jason pouted, angry that his dad didn’t see that as a teenager such comparisons hurt. The annoying thing was that the wetting was getting worse but didn’t want to tell anyone... he was, despite his anger, pretty ashamed of that fact.

“Well you’re acting like one and what’s more your mother has an easy and none disruptive solution in preventing you waking up to a sodden bed. So, stop being obstreperous ... it’s for your own good as it can’t be very nice waking up...”

The fact that the way his dad now spoke to him was as a bedwetting little kid greatly demoralised Jason and realised despite being definite he wouldn’t wear a nappy... he wasn’t going to get much choice.

“Yes, yes, alright...” although he hated to admit it his dad was spot-on, it would be sensible to wear some form of protection. There was a moment of silence whilst both took in just what was being unwillingly agreed.

“Good, now I’m glad that’s settled.” Howard was relieved that at last his son saw sense.

However, Diane, having checked in on her kids who were fast asleep, had been listening at the door. She was armed with a fabric nappy, plastic pants, powder and cream... all the things the twins needed for a change, except larger. She knew she’d, erm, Howard would win the argument and, as in most things, was organised; not prepared to let things fester or for a change of mind. She gently knocked on the bedroom door.

“Yes love,” Howard answered and watched as she slowly entered armed with the very things Jason so hated.

“Uuuurrggghh” was the boy’s inevitable response.

“It’s getting late so I thought we’d get things underway... straight away... so we have no more worries, OK?” She looked to her husband for encouragement. Jason sat on his bed in silence though warily eyeing his step-mum. Unhappy that she came prepared but should have known, if his father was in favour, then he was going to lose the battle anyway.

“OK Jason, as it’s been quite some time since you last wore a nappy...”

Jason bridled now things were happening and it looked like she was going to do the deed. This was a culmination of events over some time – damp undies for several months but a soaked bed was really the last straw. He hadn’t been able to keep that a secret.

Howard gave an ‘affected’ cough, which indicated she needed to be more understanding and less pushy about her stepson’s current situation. She got the message though Diane being Diane completely ignored it. She may have at times acted like the timid and put-upon housewife but her self-awareness and determination was really what she was about.

She wasn’t going to put up with much more nonsense. “Look, you wet the bed and you need to wear some kind of protection. However, you can sleep in your stinking pit for all I care because I’m not going to wash and change your soggy bedding. Or, you can be sensible and wear what the Good Lord has recommended for centuries as the best and most instant way of making sure that a leaky pee-pee does the least damage.” She was half joking about the Lord’s recommendation but only half.

Jason was already feeling well-chastised by his father but willing to do as he suggested but now she, that bloody woman was having a go, and speaking to him like she would his little brothers. The enormity of the situation for him became too much and felt it difficult to keep his emotions under wraps; he unintentionally and embarrassingly began to sob.

Diane was quick to notice her obnoxious teen did after all have an emotional breaking point. Here was an unexpected opportunity where she scored points because was immediately over to comfort him. She knew that Howard would instantly be on her side at this show of empathy so it would be down to Jason not to show his true colours.

“Now, now sweetheart, I know it’s all a bit, you know, weird but,” she said stroking his back and hugging him, but of course this was all mock concern “you really need to take notice of what daddy, erm, your father is saying. It’s what you need.”

He tried to pull away, he didn’t like that she was now so understanding, but her arm around his shoulder made movement difficult and any violent shrug would be noticed by dad... and he didn’t want to make things worse between them.

She indicated for Howard to leave them together so, ruffling his son’s hair, he departed silently and left the two protagonists together.

+

Jason couldn’t look at his step-mum but she gave him a long look of appraisal before she began. Sensing that he was already on the verge of capitulation and all he would need was a firm but loving push, she kept the ‘empathy’ going.

“Look love” she said in a soft confidential whisper, “there’s only the two of us now... it’s getting late and you need to wear one of these if you want to get a good night’s sleep.” She waited for an eruption but it didn’t happen. “So, why not get undressed and I’ll help you with this.” She said holding up the piece of terry fabric. “I know, I know,” she said sympathetic to his shrug of reluctance, “but once it’s on and you’re settled, I can assure you you’ll be thankful for it.”

She nearly said something jokey about the twins being happy in their nappies but decided, at that time, it was best to remain ‘understanding’ but determined.

With hubby now out of the picture she didn’t have to ‘play nice’ but saw that it appeared to be working. He wasn’t as verbal or physical for that matter though it did look like he was coming to terms with the ‘grown-ups’ decision.

He gave no indication for her to proceed, although a good, uninterrupted night’s sleep would be most welcome. What was about to happen went against everything he thought made him a teenager but peeing the bed had reduced him to this level. He knew it but hated it. But, here she was, prepared and being nice and there seemed no other option but to submit. His thoughts and actions were a jumble and plagued by indecision, he couldn’t speak or move.

Not waiting any longer for a response Diane immediately began to get things ready.

With barely any resistance she helped him out of his clothes. Once he was all but naked, down to just damp underpants, she suggested he stripped the last item away himself. She noticed, as his shoulders drooped, the look of utter defeat cross his features. Despite everything he wondered if this was for the best and what she was doing was probably the right thing... well his dad thought so... but still... it was utterly demeaning.

“Look, the sooner we have you all sorted, the sooner all this will be over and I’m sure it will only be a temporary situation... you’re not going to be wetting the bed forever now are you?” She tried to sound upbeat but was determined not to let this moment of victory pass.

Jason was stunned into silence as thoughts over the last few months filled his head. How he’d managed to hide his wet undies for all that time but was he really fooling anyone or did she know all along? That first morning he woke up to a sodden bed and his ridiculous attempt to hide the fact... and then the embarrassment of having to admit to it when it happened again and again. In truth, despite his attempts to play down the situation, his need for some kind of padding had been a long time coming.

She didn’t wait for an answer but saw him hesitate and decided that she’d wasted enough time talking... it was time for action.

She dragged those yellowing white cotton briefs down and had him step out of them, then wiped between his legs and crevasses with a towel, which was then laid on his bed so he could stretch out. He moved like a naked confused robot, not too sure what to do or where he should be. Diane knew this was an awkward part of the proceedings so, without ceremony or permission quickly smeared in anti-nappy rash cream and doused him in powder before he had chance to complain or react.

There was an urge to protest, to shout and demand... something... but in fact the business he so tried to deny was occurring and he had no physical response to this initial assault.

She was tempted to talk baby-talk to him as she would when changing the twins but bit her tongue... now wasn’t the time to sound triumphant. She wanted it to look like the most natural thing in the world so, with her practiced hands (thanks to the twins) had the various substances applied in seconds.

As she rubbed it all in, Jason was stunned by her speed and efficiency. This was it, the thing he dreaded was happening and strangely found his speech and limbs could no longer fight off the inevitable. It was like he was suddenly turned into a baby and unable to respond. Even his breathing all but stopped for the duration as her firm determined fingers made sure every inch of susceptible skin was well protected. This entire state of affairs shocked him into inertia.

+

Recognising he had no further fight left in him she quickly folded the nappy and fed it under his immobile bum, then, with equal speed decisively yanked the fabric tightly up between his legs. He had a terrified look on his face as he realised the thickness of the material that now surrounded his privates but, with an air of satisfaction, she took two large baby pins and fastened it firmly into place.

“There, I’m sure you feel a lot better already,” she flapped out a pair of clear but crinkly plastic pants before he could comment. “One last thing to make you’re all nice and secure” again the expected protest didn’t come so nimbly drew the noisy item up his legs and over his now soft cushiony groin.

She patted the plastic to remove any trapped air and slid her hands around to make sure all the fabric was tucked in. Once that was completed she smiled. “There, that wasn’t so bad was it? All done and you’re all safe and secure for when you have another accident.”

His clear plastic pants shone in the bedroom light whilst the well-fitted nappy with the two huge pins was clearly visible underneath. She was pleased with her work and her teenage nemesis now looked like a toddler with a mummy who knew how to look after her bedwetting little boy.

It was getting late so she pulled the covers down and helped him into bed. Jason moved as if he wasn’t really there, mentally he was paralysed. He wasn’t sure how this had transpired so rapidly but it had and was reluctantly getting accustomed to his new thick supporting nightwear.

+

She’d done it; she had that insufferable child in a nappy now and was damn sure he wouldn’t be going to bed in future without an adult supervising his new routine. She’d enjoyed his sluggish reluctance as he climbed into bed but her success was to witness his well-padded and slinky bum slowly slip under the covers.

“Night-night love,” Diane said hardly keeping the sound of satisfaction from her voice, “Be a good boy and don’t try to take them off... I’m sure daddy would be most disappointed if you did.” So overawed by it all the ‘modest’ sound of victory passed by Jason who hardly heard the barb she’d thrown but still it left Diane very pleased with the result.

She chuckled to herself knowing that at that moment her teenaged stepson was wearing more or less the same as his eight months old brother and sister... no wonder she was so pleased with the outcome.

Once back downstairs and with all the kids now in bed it was just her and hubby... and she had a lot to say on the subject of his son.

She reiterated the problems and extra work he was causing and all but guaranteed that the ‘acquiescent’ young man she’d just left would be an angry and resentful brat when he woke up to a soaked nappy.

“He’ll be in a mood because we will have been proved right, it’s what he needs but that won’t stop him complaining and you dear husband need to be firm with him. Don’t give in and make sure he wears a nappy. We need to ensure he doesn’t renegade on wearing one so suggest we supervise him every night...  or it will be you paying for new bedding and a mattress.”

She knew with finances a bit tight her husband was worried about money. So, for the next couple of hours she went on emphasising her stepson’s need for padding.

She went on about how Richard and William had both been potty-trained by the age of three so had no worries there. Jason on the other hand was proving to be a bit of a soggy monster regarding his attitude to her, the family and his underwear.

With a confidence that belied her slim physical appearance, she’d known, once Jason’s bedwetting showed no signs of stopping, there’d be a need to arrange protection for his bed and it would take more than a waterproof sheet. She wasn’t going to put up with a constant stream of wet bedding, underwear and pyjamas and settled on the best and simplest defence and that was nappies... if there were other choices, she didn’t even consider them.

She saw that getting him (rightfully) into wearing padding at night would not only protect the bed but might well rein-in some of his more bellicose behaviour. Howard was browbeaten with her logic and intensity of what the answer to Jason’s problem was. And as the twins were wearing nappies why shouldn’t the only other pants-wetter in the family?  

+ tbc +

Part 3

As anticipated come the morning and the teen was in a bad mood, the bed was dry but his nappy was soaked. The confusion and inertia had gone to be replaced by a soggy annoyance. On waking up he realised the protection had done its job and was furious that they’d been proved correct. Even if he thought they were right he didn’t want to give Diane any satisfaction at all.

He pulled off the plastic protection and clammy padding that hung uncomfortably low at the back where, for some reason all his pee had migrated and threw them into the corner of the bathroom glad to be rid of such babyish items. So, after wiping himself clean (but for safeties sake putting on a couple of pairs of white cotton briefs before the rest of his clothes) he felt he’d regained some of his independence. Going downstairs he was trying to formulate an argument and was quick to launch into it once he saw Diane and dad at the kitchen table.

However, noticing his brothers sat eating their cereal meant he didn’t want to mention the nappy and stuff by name... even if he was angry he didn’t want them to know what had taken place.

“Bloody ‘things’ kept me awake all night...” he snarled but dad gave a stern “Language” and nodded towards Richard and William.

He complained that the items in question had kept him up all night as they were - too tight, too noisy, too hot or too uncomfortable. Of course it was a lie because he wasn’t happy about how he’d been compelled into wearing the damn things. He needed to assert that it wouldn’t be happening again and that everyone was aware of that fact.

“Ah,” said a knowing Diane, “but is your bed dry?”

Being caught in a quandary, because he didn’t know how much his brothers knew, Jason didn’t answer that particular question but continued to argue. Unfortunately, it only added to his father’s opinion his wife was correct – he was confrontational, didn’t listen and still thought peeing the bed was better than wearing protection - the boy was wrong.

“Your nappy did what it was supposed to do,” Diane lambasted back, “You should be grateful, never mind giving it the big sobs... you just don’t know what’s best for you you’re such a self-centred...” Well, the cat was out of the bag now so Jason angrily stomped out of the kitchen knowing his argument had failed at the first obstacle... his step-mum.

+

Unfortunately, such had been Diane’s devastating attack on her stepson’s character the previous night that Howard wouldn’t really listen to any of his complaints. She’d proved to her husband (more by insinuation than fact) Jason’s wetting was getting worse and had convinced him that he probably wet during the day. So, to try and stop her from exploding or having a breakdown, all the precautions she recommended should and would come into play for a ‘peaceful’ existence at home. She contended that without a strong lead from Howard then the entire fabric of the household would fall apart... and it would be entirely as a result of his inaction if it did.

Under such a barrage of derision and accusations of possible failure Howard followed Jason back to his room and had further words. In private, Jason grudgingly admitted that the wetting was getting slightly worse and that he’d occasionally had damp underpants. Thinking he was being honest and his father would appreciate such honesty he was surprised at the reaction. His dad reasoned that in that case it would be sensible to wear protection all the time.

Despite a teenage temper tantrum and volatile resistance, Jason found it hard to challenge his father because he really didn’t want him to know just how bad the wetting had become. Dad’s logic was always precise and to the point so any antagonism he felt towards his father was really only half-hearted. However, he’d never come up against his dad being so adamant on any subject so that he had absolutely no choice. If dad deemed it necessary (and to make sure of compliance) Jason would have regular nappy inspections when at home and not just when he woke up with soggy padding.

Jason couldn’t believe dad had not only agreed to all this but was dogged in his view that it needed to happen. The thing is he was already on shaky ground and arguing seemed to make things worse. The teenager in him wanted to rebel but the guilt of pissing the bed left him with no alternative but to resentfully submit to his dad’s rationality. His arguing and general irritation to the situation had made things worse. He had no independent support and his obvious denial (but evidence of a wet nappy) simply didn’t help his position. So, just like the twins he was to be made to wear a nappy and plastic pants all the time when not at school, where, appreciatively for Jason, his father thought such action would cause too many problems.

+

At first Jason thought this new rule was a joke – ‘nappy inspections’ was a laughable idea. He wasn’t going to wear a nappy when at home – but dad made no bones about it. That was how it was going to be and any further argument just went to prove his wife was correct in her opinion of him. Jason didn’t want to go against dad but this was stupid so wasn’t going to put up with it. However, dad brought out a threat that he couldn’t ignore. His summer plans, plans he’d been talking about and looking forward to all year, to go with one of his mates on a holiday abroad would be instantly cancelled.

Jason was aware that the trip was dependent on dad financing it and that as money was tight it would be an easy item to dispense with. This was a devastating blow and no amount of shouting or pleading would change dad’s mind. The resolute look on his father’s face told him the decision had been taken and now it was down to him. Reluctantly this possibility was just too much to contemplate, so, he’d just have to put up with this new rule until on holiday or dad saw sense. Well that was the hope anyway.   

“You need to know Jason,” said his dad, “that you’re not always going to get your own way”.

“But I NEVER get my own way,” he choked with annoyance.

“Well, I’ll see this as a trial... think on... as Newton’s Third Law states - For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. Don’t push your luck... it might just turn round and push back.”

His reaction was to burst into tears. This just wasn’t fair but his father had spoken and, although wasn’t too sure what the quote meant, it came with a risk he couldn’t ignore. Jason didn’t think his father knew how cruel he was being, whereas Howard thought his wife’s idea of ‘preventable wet episodes’ was, after his son had admitted to the problem getting worse, a simple remedy and couldn’t see why Jason, a reasonably intelligent boy, was against it. It was an obvious solution to a growing problem for all concerned.

Jason’s wrath at having to submit was difficult to channel but could at least take it out on his brothers.

+

In some ways the other two boys were pushed to the edges of family life because of the arrival of the twins and the battle between their older brother and mummy. Neither boy was demanding, Diane had brought them up to be polite and respectful but the atmosphere in the house had turned unpleasant at times, which had an effect on them. It wasn’t always like that because Jason had been a terrific big brother.

Of course, when Richard was born there had been an initial natural feeling for the five year old Jason that he was being usurped. His dad seemed to spend more time on the newcomer than him and so resented it. However, with the passage of time he grew to like looking after his little brother and was happy to teach him to read, learn his numbers and play together. By the time William came along, Jason was used to having these little people around and, with being that bit older, found he quite liked having a family. He even found his ‘new’ mum to be fun and attentive, whilst dad seemed to dote on them all.is relationship with his’new’ mother Dad, mum and the three boys looked the perfect family and so it continued... until the arrival of the twins.

If asked, Jason wouldn’t be able to tell you when or why he suddenly took against his step-mum but since becoming a teenager for some reason resentment had begun to grow. It might have been something that the gang of friends he hung around with jeered about in the schoolyard, or maybe something he’d seen on TV, or maybe games he was playing on PlayStation but he began to think - now he was grown up - he should think differently and live his own life.

Suddenly, he hated being told what to do but still being reliant on his parents for everything. He hated the demands put upon him by being ‘family’ and not an individual; whilst at the same time all his mates were boasting of their own rebellious successes. Well that is except for Pete whose family were off to Spain for their summer holidays and their only son was allowed to bring a friend... Jason had been first choice. He was very excited about the prospect of his first trip abroad and hoped it would cement his feeling of mature independence.

However, there were some stipulations to going and those were that Jason had to help out more. Making sure the boys were supervised, school work done, clothes clean and ready, fed and on time to catch the bus. Before Jason did this naturally but now, because mum was worn out looking after the twins, he resented it fell to him to sort it all out.

Unfortunately, Jason’s resentment grew along with the sudden appearance of wet pants. Guilt and general frustration as to ‘why?’ it was happening to him made his mood sour. The more he got angry, the wetter he seemed to get - though perhaps surprisingly he hadn’t put these two factors together.

+

Meanwhile, Richard was steeped in his school football team, quite independent in a boyish kind of way. Whereas William was quiet and followed behind his older brother, content to take a backseat and not push forward for anything. In their respective classes, Richard was a leader and academically good. Unfortunately, William’s reports suggested that he was slow to take advantage of what was going on around him and struggled to make himself heard in the general hubbub of school life.

Diane was very supportive of all her boys but looked after her youngest by more-or-less babying him... that was, until the twins began to loom large. As Diane expanded with child (or children as it turned out) William suddenly dropped out of being the one everyone looked out for. That, together with the growing impatience of Jason, made the poor lad feel left out so moped around the house trying to avoid contact with anyone. Richard, with whom he shared a bedroom, did his best to keep his spirits up but the dejected little fellow began to feel like a spare part.

With everything else that was going on – twins on their way, dad working all hours, school a challenge and Jason being obnoxious to mummy, William drifted into a world of solitude. Even when there were people around he’d have a book open and pretend to be engrossed, in fact, he had turned off completely and just wished the day away. His only escape was sleep so spent as much time as he could in his room; always thankful if Richard wasn’t there to chat. He’d often be found on his top bunk lying quietly and staring off into space.

However, with the arrival of the twins William found himself no longer the baby of the family and was now an older brother. He liked this sudden elevation and it helped snap him out of the depression no kid of six should have ever been in. Later, he celebrated his seventh birthday, which Richard had told him, was the age when things would be different as he was no longer a ‘little kid’. Nothing actually happened to physically change but because of what his brother had said, Will thought, whether he noticed or not, things had to be different so needed to act the ‘big brother’ to the new arrivals.

However, all the achievements the two boys were making were eclipsed by Jason and their mother seemingly in constant battle. If they took mummy’s side, Jason mocked them, if they tried to remain neutral they got a glare from mummy. Daddy was rarely around for them to take any direction from so they tried to keep out of the firing line as much as possible.

However, both of them were keen to help mummy as much as possible and loved it when she praised them for being ‘big boys’. However, Jason seemed to be stomping around the house being disagreeable, to which their mummy’s response was to ridicule him.

Then it happened.

Big brother wet the bed.

+

They heard mummy screaming at him about it not being the first time and she was convinced he was doing it on purpose. Then the two boys heard her rip into him – “If the twins wear nappies to prevent everything getting soaked then so should you”. The arguments and shouting went up a gear as mummy insisted that daddy had a word and eventually that led to their big brother wearing nappies at night.

Once put to bed Richard and William would lie in their bunks and whisper to each other wondering if Jason was turning into a baby. Whatever was happening neither of them wanted to be returned to wearing nappies, that would be too awful and more importantly, what would their friends say?

+

As always, thinking ahead, Diane knew that Jason would need more than just the few terry cotton nappies and plastic pants she’d bought in advance, some of which he was now wearing. So, as finances were scarce decided to try and find a cheap way of getting supplies.

She went on Mumsnet and assorted other online help and support groups and found someone local who was getting rid of their entire supply of teenage incontinence items because their son had grown out of it all. A couple of emails later and a package of very reasonably priced second-hand items arrived in a big box which she stashed away until she could introduce them to their ‘damp’ recipient.

On checking, and to her absolute delight, the box had everything; colourful childish disposables, plain coloured disposables and a dozen or so terry cotton nappy squares. The lady had also included an array of colourful and plain pairs of plastic pants, a couple of  onesies that fastened under the crotch to hold a nappy firmly in place and bottles and canisters of anti-rash cream, soothing oils and baby powder.  The package also contained a note.

Hi Diane

Here, as discussed, are the items we talked about but also, because of Darren’s growth spurt and suddenly becoming no longer incontinent I’ve included some things we never got around for him to use. Hope you find them useful and of course it was lovely to speak to you. Should you need an ear at any time to talk about your son’s problem, I’d be only too glad to lend it... you have my number.

All the best and good luck.

Gwyneth

p.s. Darren always looked so damn cute in the purple onesie and matching plastic pants... in some ways it’s a shame he grew out of it all.

+

Meanwhile, when her husband wasn’t around Diane seemed to take great delight in checking Jason’s newly enforced nappy regime especially when her friends stopped by. There was no escape for the teen because of the twins she constantly had a group of similarly supportive mothers who were battling with kids of their own. She was encouraged by them to bring the boy down a peg or two, even if that hadn’t proved successful with their own kids. They all took some strange delight in seeing Jason struggle with the responsibilities of wearing a nappy and still appearing to be a teenager. Privately they cackled at his miserable misfortune and applauded Diane’s no nonsense approach to dealing with a belligerent bed-wetter.

Apart from his family, for Jason there was another problem, his wetting was indeed getting much worse. He hadn’t been to see a doctor because he didn’t want anyone else to know about it and above everything else, hoped it would be, like Diane suggested, just a passing phase. So whenever a doctor’s appointment was raised he would lie and say that he thought he was getting better so no need to bother the local GP. The fact that he actually needed a nappy was pretty soul-destroying and trying to ignore his problem was becoming more and more difficult.

Jason hated himself for his constantly leaking cock; making him even more furious was that it was hard to blame anyone else. As a result he became more reclusive and tried to keep himself away from all that was going on by spending what little time he had in his one and only sanctuary, his bedroom. That had been his room since before Diane was on the scene and he held that privacy, no matter how vague, to be his by right... but his step mother had other plans. She’d already invaded his isolation by waltzing in with his freshly laundered clothes... and of course nappies. Any protest from him had been instantly dismissed by being told that “...pants-wetters don’t get privacy”.

Buoyed by her friends, and now getting such a kick out of her control over him, she made another decision that he wasn’t going to like. The twins, who up until then had shared their parent’s bedroom, were to be given a room of their own. It was proposed that the twin’s cots would be transferred to the bedroom Richard and William shared, whilst their bunkbeds would be moved in to Jason’s room. It would be a squeeze for the three boys to be together but Diane concluded that the twins and all their paraphernalia would just about fit into her boy’s room.

+

There was a general argument that none of the kids were happy about. Jason complained about being the eldest he should have privacy and, perhaps unsurprisingly, the two boys objected to sharing their room with a bed-wetter. As no one would be happy about any such arrangement Diane pretended to re-think the situation. She’d already planned what would happen but, discussing the objection between the boys with her husband promised she would come up with a suitable compromise that should settle any dispute. Once told of her decision Howard realised there was no real alternative as the house didn’t have enough space for a different outcome - so agreed to what was planned.

So, on a Friday morning, whilst Jason and the boys were all at school, and with the help of a couple of friends, Diane moved the two cribs, changing table and dresser into Jason’s room.

“Then I can have all those who require nappies in one place.” She said pleased with her ‘obvious’ solution and quite incidentally her two sons wouldn’t be put out at all.

The tantrum Jason threw on discovering what had happened was devastating for him, but his step mum simply pointed out to her husband that it proved he was nothing more than a little spoiled child who insisted on wetting his pants and getting his own way. She was in a fiery mood when she added her damning response to his sulk “Like a two year old”.

His room, which has to be said was quite spacious, was now cramped. His single bed, which had been set in the middle of the room with space to walk around, had been pushed up against one wall under the window. The twin’s cots were put side by side opposite with the large chest of drawers, whose extended top (complete with padded foam cover) was used as a changing table and set along the wall just about separated the two different aged bed-wetters. Jason’s table and games console had been removed to make way for extra furniture for the twin’s clothes and his own wardrobe was also commandeered for more baby stuff. Every surface now looked (and smelled) like a nursery, with powders, lotions, creams and of course nappies all on view. Worse still were his nappies and plastic covers left on ‘easily accessible’ surfaces same as the twins. Whilst the shelf that contained his few bits and bobs became festooned with the trappings for babies.

Jason could hardly contain his anger but his seething was met by his step mother’s complete lack of empathy.

“I simply do not have time for your self-aggrandisement the world does not revolve around you and your wet pants,” she screamed at him. “I have enough to do with the twins and the rest of the family to have any more unnecessary worry.” There was a malicious accusation to her tone “Now everything for baby is where it should be and that’s in the same place, so stop being such a selfish, self-centred little brat.”

As a child she’d had plenty of practice in bringing down and putting in their place boys who thought they were something special. Jason was not going to fair well against her expertise in this area.

His PlayStation was now set up in a little alcove in the living room but was for all to play with. He also had to do homework on the kitchen table, and as that seemed to be in constant use he had to find elsewhere. The garage was cold but if he wanted some privacy, that was the only available but restricted space. His room, although now cramped as well, was the only place he could work. However, it hadn’t helped that whilst arguing with his step mum he’d pissed himself a little. He hoped she hadn’t noticed so had thrown himself down on his bed to not only hide his embarrassment but also to hide guilty tears.

+

Howard had been shocked on his return from work to find his fifteen year old son crying and in such a state. The boy was so upset he could hardly put words into sentences as he complained and begged for things to be returned as they were. But, as always in these matters, Diane had got in first and explained the problem, and the obvious solution that affected the least amount of people. So, even if Jason didn’t know it, his dad was well aware that it was the only sensible answer so... a done deal.

Diane had pointed out that with the twins in another room (as advised by all parental guides) that now they were able to sleep on their own, it would give the adults more time to themselves (and added sensually) a chance to be intimate without waking the babies. Obviously, although she could see Jason’s objections (and rejected them as being unworkable), having nappies, changing table and equipment where needed made perfect sense.

“It makes life so much easier and practical with everything in one place to make dealing with wet and stinky nappies stress-free.” Howard had to agree with his wife’s reasoning even if briefly he felt the pain and disruption of his eldest.

It had been true that the twin’s things seemed to occupy every surface and although in many ways that would still be the case, having a central point where they could change them and keep their nappies and clothes, as well as see to Jason’s increasing needs, was simply the only solution.

Jason tried to compromise with his father and said that he’d rather have Richard and William sharing his room but his tears fell even more when it was pointed out that they didn’t want to share because of the constant smell of wee and baby powder. Any autonomy Jason thought he had was completely eroded.

“The sooner you can get over this wetting problem son,” his father sympathised as best he could, “the sooner things might change.” However, Diane had left the idea he was wetting on purpose still as a possibility and that his avoidance of going to the doctor was proof. This was in the back of dad’s mind when he said “Sorry Jason but this is for the best.”

Those words were no comfort when he realised that a wet stain had appeared on the front of his school trousers. The thick double briefs he wore for school just not robust enough to take the amount of pee all this tension had produced. It was a defining moment. The sigh of self-pity was loud and long. He had few friends he could talk to, and besides, who would want to talk about a fifteen year old still wetting his pants? He felt imprisoned, isolated and inadequate.

He lay there for a good hour crying, resenting his family and trying to work out a way to change things. Alas, the house only had three bedrooms and his was the second largest so had no one to turn to for consolation. It was a done deal, and, as his father had become prone to tell him, he’d just have to ‘...get used to it’. Stuck in his mind was dad’s threat not to let him go on holiday with his mate if he didn’t just buckle down and do as he was told.

He hated everyone but there was another revelation, now the twins were in his room a new state-of-the art child mobile/monitor/camera had also been purchased and set up to keep an eye on them. The fact that sound and images of the room would be permanently accessible to Diane meant he’d have no privacy for anything a fifteen year old boy was prone to do.

+ tbc +

Part 4

Lying alone on his bed his few moments of peace were rudely disrupted when Diane breezed into the room holding Alfie and saying he needed his nappy changed. Jason knew he had no say in the matter, it had been a few days now since the ‘grand move’, so didn’t comment other than try to curl up into a ball and pretend she wasn’t there. After some cooing, cute baby talk and the rustling of nappies and plastic pants, she lay Alfie down in his cot and turned to her step son.

“Okay, whilst I’m here I might as well change you.” She quietly offered. Since the twins now resided in his room and the initial upset had lessened (though not disappeared) they had adopted a less antagonistic role towards each other.

Jason bristled at the suggestion. How did she know? How did she always know? Once again on the way home from school he’d soaked his thick briefs. That’s why he’d thrown himself down on his bed to contemplate what to do (and hide his shame). Although this was getting to be more of a problem hoped he’d managed to keep these increasing day time accidents a secret... but she knew.

He mumbled he was fine and to leave him alone.

“Well, you’re not fine you’re wet and if for one minute you think I’m going to indulge you through getting a rash when it can so easily be avoided you’re sadly mistaken.”

He knew that tone and what’s more knew she wouldn’t take no for an answer but still...

“Go away, I don’t want or need your help... I just want to be left...”

“Oh stop your constant whining. We might have our differences but I know when somebody needs changing and as your father has let you know on many occasions we’re here to do just that.”

It was not true; his nappy changes were not supervised, they were performed by one of his parents, mainly Diane. Despite all her arguments that she was ‘overwhelmed’ with extra work, it didn’t stop her making a point of changing her teenage stepson. She knew he was at his most vulnerable and made sure he knew who was in charge. He was under intense scrutiny and worried that if he objected or said the wrong thing then his trip abroad would be unceremoniously cancelled.   

He sighed heavily not wanting to move but, with the ‘done deal’ and his now crowded bedroom, knew that there was an inevitability about what would happen next.

“Now, if you want, I can get daddy up here or you can just stop being a big, ermmmm, (she nearly said baby but decided against that) a big pain in the butt, and let me make you more comfortable.”

He hadn’t known his father was home so that news jolted him a bit. He hated the fact that these days his father thought of him as a little kid. He needed to be grown up but under all this pressure it was hard. This was not going as hoped - he needed a win yet his dribbling dick kept letting him down.

Despite her annoyance at Jason she wanted her hubby to know that the nappies were working and the tension between step-mum and stepson had decreased. She had a new plan - make wearing nappies as natural as possible. She treated his nappy changes as she would the twins, necessary for their comfort but without too much ceremony. Of course the twins got baby-talk and loving snuffles, which occasionally crept into the way she changed Jason, but he didn’t like that. To appear more agreeable she was desperately trying to sound reasonable and toned down the disapproval in her voice whilst attempting to sound like she was on his side.

However, the threat that his dad might be called to do the job meant that he’d then know his eldest son not only needed to wear protection at night but also during the day... that was just too much to consider. Reluctantly he stripped out of his school uniform and guiltily stood there in his soaked underpants. Diane shrugged and once more indicated for him to lie out on top of the dresser, “...it makes things easier” and set about removing the soaked item and then wiped him down.  

“Look, do you want daddy to do this because I’m getting zero cooperation from you here?”

It was true, the resentment, even though she was helping, was there and he was finding it difficult to be anything but embarrassed by the entire operation (how had he let this happen, being treated like a little baby, wasn’t he a teenager?). He’d lost his one tiny piece of independence, his room, so there was nothing else she could take. But the prospect of dad coming up and finding just how soaked his pants were was worse than what was actually happening so he said “No” and became slightly more cooperative – the loss of his holiday looming large in that decision.

“That’s better. Now Jason, I know you’re not happy with things as they are now but you’ll get used to it and whilst you’re still going through this, erm, wetting phase...” She was trying to make him see that it wasn’t all bad but also making sure he knew the reason things were happening the way they were was because of him. She wasn’t making him wet it was all down to him so he had no reason to be angry at her. However, she didn’t want him to think she was totally blaming him so took a different tack by hoping he’d see this ‘development’ was an obvious way to make things work for all concerned.

Of course another opportunity arose for her to embarrass him more but thought she’d try to phrase it in a sympathetic way.

“You need to take more care of yourself and keep this area,” she wiped his cock and balls, “free from any chance of disease. There’s already slight redness...  so... I’m sorry to say it but this hair will need to go AND we might need to rub on more anti-rash cream at night to begin to relieve the situation.”

She could see the anger flair behind his eyes but it immediately gave way to a look of resignation. To begin with he fought her putting his nappy on (until dad had yet another, more forceful word) but slowly he seemed to accept this is what he needed and wasn’t as abrasive (or abusive) as he had been.

“Look, it’s for your own good. Your father agrees and so does every medical site I’ve read. Whilst you’re peeing your nap...  erm, pants, this patch of hair is nothing but a playground for germs that if not kept under control, will make your life hell. I’m sure a lad your age doesn’t want to be seen by all the girls at school scratching his balls all the time... now do you?” She smiled as if she understood the embarrassment that would cause and was only thinking of him.

Jason knew that if it had been discussed with dad then it was already a ‘done deal’ so would be useless to complain. After all, it was just another thing taken away, even if it was for ‘...his own good’. 

“You won’t tell dad,” he asked uncertain, “you know, about me just wetting my undies will you?” He nervously mumbled knowing if she kept his secret he’d be in her debt.

This was a strange request because his father knew he wet his pants. Diane wondered if he’d simply forgotten but then realised it was the intensity of the soaking that worried him. Damp versus soaked... a huge change in circumstances. Of course she was quick to take advantage of the boy’s vulnerability.

She followed Jason’s gaze to the small pile of soaked cotton material she’d just removed from him.

“Your father and I have no secrets Jason, and nor should you. It’s not right to hide things from your parents when they’re only there trying to help.” She heard him inwardly groan. “But, I suspect, if you give me no more trouble and accept the way things are, then, I suppose it can be between just us two. However, if you give me grief, I’ll tell the entire street about it.... and you know I’m not joking... right?”

This was a heavy blow but, with thoughts of his trip abroad still in his head, realised he had no alternative but to agree so nodded “Yes”.

It still hadn’t filtered into his brain that dad already knew about his wetting getting worse and was on his wife’s side in combatting it becoming a bigger problem. He thought she was doing her best and it was his son who was putting up unnecessary barriers, instead of fighting her Jason should be grateful for the simple solution she offered.

“Look,” she said wiping him dry,” I’ll get you some depilatory cream (she’d read about some that removed unwanted hair and then slowed down its re-growth and thought that would be ideal) and then we can get rid of it all in one go, okay?”

She was trying her best to sound understanding and sympathetic but under it all she was just tightening control over him. Removing his pubic hair would be a psychological blow to the image he had of himself. Although, as she said, it was a sensible precaution the fact that he’d look just like her much younger sons ‘down there’ tickled her no end. His bragging rights to being a teenager were fast diminishing, and as far as Diane was concerned, rightly so for a bed wetter.

So, as she had him lying naked and vulnerable decided he might as well get put into his night time nappy; after all, it was after six.

“Look, I know it’s relatively early but you’d be doing me a big favour if we can get you into your nappy now. I have things to do and it would certainly help if I didn’t have to worry about doing it later. It also means that you aren’t subjected to this twice... which must be good for you, hmmm?”

Jason felt sick. He had no further fight left in him. Everything had changed and left him with nothing. He didn’t want to admit it but in truth he’d been defeated, yet for the first time in ages, she wasn’t bitching but talking to him in a reasonable fashion. This had been a moment; a moment when he had to accept defeat and that there was absolutely nothing he could do that wouldn’t make life more difficult for himself. This was the way things were and, if he wanted to have any life at all, he...

No, no, NO... he couldn’t give up but what can a lad who has nothing do?

+

All this was going on in his head and whilst wracked with indecision, he hadn’t answered her question. She was not one to wait on ceremony; she applied the cream in a thick dollop and quickly smoothed it in. Once happy that everything that needed coating was coated shook a cloud of baby powder over his genitals, then pulled out one of the fresh nappies and a thick piece of extra padding and without further chat, fastened him in. This time, perhaps for the first time, the resentment he normally had when this happened was no longer there, just an acceptance of the inevitable. And, although he’d had his nappy changed many times, this time it felt like it was done without any resentment from her as well.

There seemed to be a degree of care and consideration that he hadn’t noticed before, or more than likely just hadn’t been there. It was a strange feeling because without the resentment suddenly the process felt like this was something he’d actually forgotten... this attention. It was nice. Also not waiting for any further response she fluttered out a pair of blue plastic pants and eased them up his legs.

“There, now that’s done I can get on and finish making tonight’s meal.”

She’d acted so quickly he barely noticed his new circumstances, lying there feeling every bit like his baby brother who was lying just a few feet away in a cot wearing exactly the same.

She was clever and of course this was just what she wanted him to see that he was no more than another baby. She may have been gentler in her speech, maybe more understanding, but it would be done on her terms and as far as she was concerned the sooner Jason accepted his place the better.

He’d been unaware that she’d just treated him exactly like his baby brother; same understanding, same affection, same result. Of course she’d won on all counts but had a plan,e was still grumpy. and a cache of clothes, so wanted to push further. However, to do that she first needed to get a completely demoralised and needy Jason to relinquish any idea he was almost an adult. She had to make him grateful that his lovely step mother only wanted what was best for him and he’d do anything to seek her approval. What she didn’t bank on was that soon she’d discover something else that would make his transition to total dependency complete.

+ tbc +

Part 5

I was really depressed. I had very little and that had now been taken away, and worse still, I now shared my bedroom with a couple of babies. I don’t know how she managed it but mum had really played her hand well, whilst I had no hand to play. I felt really down and utterly dejected.

What made things even worse were the tears I shed. I couldn’t help it and I’m sure seeing a lad my age crying his eyes out over a bedroom and wet pants played into her hands. The thing was I could actually understand there was little choice if my brothers had turned against me, which I bet was her doing. They’d never said anything about my wetting before so I was a bit surprised they had... if they had?

Needing to wear a nappy at night was a done deal as dad kept reminding me but the fact that whilst crying I’d also wet my pants had been quite a shock. I desperately tried to hide the stain but she just knew... that bloody woman knew. Nevertheless, if I could keep it from dad then I wouldn’t feel as bad. I really didn’t want him wondering what had happened to his teenage son and knowing I’d wet during the day, whether I had good reason or not, was just too much. It was important... despite everything dad was mine... I didn’t want him thinking any less of me.

Regardless of arguing with him whilst putting forward my complaints I did respect dad’s decisions. I didn’t like them (well what did I like under the circumstances) but although he’d been very forthright in his answers and they were to my detriment, unlike Diane’s, I never thought he was being vindictive.

Because of her I was already wearing a nappy whilst at home so desperately didn’t want to have to wear one for school as well. So far I’d got her to agree not to tell dad but fully aware I’d have to play ball to some extent though still be alert to the fact that she could change the rules at any time.

I lay on the new changing table (dresser) and was cleaned me up. I didn’t want her to but I needed her silence on my wet undies so knew there’d be a price to pay. That payment, as in all things, was to do as I was told. I had surprisingly quickly come to terms with being changed into a nappy by her, and being fifteen and naked had been brushed of as something that didn’t matter – I wet my pants so in her eyes I was little more than a toddler. She enjoyed my continued embarrassment but I had nothing left in the armoury and could see if I continued on my course it would only get worse for me.

I’m a reasonable person for heaven’s sake. I’m wearing a nappy after all and I doubt if there are many lads my age who would have allowed this to happen. I know I’d been reluctant at first but dad’s logic (and my unruly bladder) and I suppose Diane’s insistence that it was an easy and immediate way to contain the problem had seen my compliance. As I say, I doubt if many other teenagers would... hmmmm?

There was no doubt that the main problem was my wetting and the sooner I could get over that the better. However, although the nightmares were not happening so frequently (but hadn’t stopped completely), my night time soaking was. The entire thing I found draining and overwhelming – the sudden wetting, the fact that I now wore nappies at my age made me feel less than a man, I wasn’t even sure what the fight with mum was about. I mean, I was fighting for something but had no idea what and as I pondered that stupid thought, my padding was gently absorbing my latest release. Now I’m wetting my pants during the day, and had been observed doing so, I fear something worse - though not sure if it will be because of mum, or something I do - and that’s causing me a great deal of anxiety.

The circle continued.

+

On top of all this she told me about my pubes and indicated that for health reasons I needed to get rid of them. I’d been itching down there, and though begrudged having to do so, reckoned she was probably correct on this and wasn’t worth arguing over. Oddly enough, my acquiescence seemed to spark a more genteel approach in the way she spoke to me. For once she seemed reasonable and spoke as if she was saying and doing everything for my benefit. Had she changed tactics or had I unexpectedly stumbled onto something? The speed at which I submitted to her suggestion... was I being more reasonable? I had a sudden and unsettling thought; what if she was always being rational and I was the objectionable one? It had been argued on several occasions that this confrontation was all down to me... but then I just thought of her and her mates ganging up to humiliate me and thought again.

She promised to get some cream for the elimination of my pubic hair so I’d sort it out myself when it arrived. Having said that I’ll probably be inspected afterwards to make sure it had been done correctly because I know she doesn’t think I’m capable. That’s why she always ‘supervises’ nappy changes. That’s one of the problems I have, I make mistakes, say something wrong and she’s very clever at inflating those moments to my detriment. She knows exactly what to say and how to say it so I look to be the problem, which she is just trying her best to solve and it’s my stubbornness and ingratitude that makes things worse.

Early on, when I was first put into night time protection I said if I had to wear a nappy then I’d do it myself. Now we don’t use disposables in our house so she said that as it was fabric she’d do it. She pointed out that with the twins she had plenty of practice and as a result was quick and capable. I still complained but both her and dad came up with a solution – if I could change the twins nappies, and fit them perfectly, they’d let me do my own. However, I was so nervous I made such a pig’s ear of it so as a result lost my independence and now I’m not supervised, I’m physically changed. Every time she sighs as if she’s being put upon and has even more work, she really does love the fact that she’s in charge and I’m just like my baby brother and sister.

“C’mon let’s get this done,” she’d be all business-like, as if doing me a favour. “This isn’t something I enjoy so...” But I knew it was something she took great pleasure in because I was at her mercy and she knew it. Unfortunately, so did I.

Sometimes, if dad’s not there, she coos at me like she does the twins offering up baby-talk and whispered encouragement about being a ‘good boy’. She makes a big deal out of folding a fresh nappy – saying how nice and soft  it’s going to feel and how happy I’ll be once she’s pinned it on over my “sweet little pee-pee”. I know she’s doing it to get a rise out of me and of course she does. So, when I do react I’m seen as the petty one and as I’m wearing a nappy my reactions are described as being a childish strop. I don’t know how she’s done it but I get the impression that dad doesn’t see me as a teenager anymore. I suppose, because he always seems to be busy working and hardly sees us, when he does, I’m wearing a nappy and she’s telling him of my failings, well, what else is he going to think?

+

However, now my room, our room, is full of babies and baby stuff I have to realise that it’s not the twin’s fault I wet but my leaky bladder. Even their monitor that plays sound effects and heartbeats has a soothing quality that I’m not averse to. In fact, the twins are not a problem. Despite wearing a nappy at night and getting a decent night’s sleep I can’t pretend that I’ve not had more than a few near misses during the day. I never know what she has planned next and that’s not helping my anxiety. Now mum has seen the actual evidence I need to act differently around her. That got me thinking about me and my attitude.

So, now we’re on a slightly more ‘sociable’ level she’d asked for a favour, which is a first - to voluntarily get ready for bed early so she didn’t have to fix my nappy twice. I had to hold my tongue because I didn’t like it but pretended I didn’t mind, after all, she held all the cards.

It was really quite eerie because as she was doing it this time the experience felt different. Because I hadn’t put up a fight or acted begrudgingly, erm, I can’t quite explain it except... yes... that was it, the resentment I normally had for her involvement in this ‘operation’ had somehow faded. Instead of fussing and wriggling about I let her just get on with it. I’m not sure if I was imagining it but she was taking her time and being thorough but gentle. It was like experiencing having a nappy changed for the first time... but I was relaxed and amazingly it felt comfortable.

What I wasn’t banking on was that she made the damn thing even thicker than normal by adding extra soaker pads. She said that was because I was wetting so much so with thicker padding I wouldn’t need to be changed as often. I could understand that but I didn’t like it... except once it was on it felt terrific. The plastic pants looked huge but then she patted my bulky bum as if we were now mates and asked me to take Alfie downstairs and put him in the playpen with Jane. At that moment I realised that we were both dressed the same but that too was nice - in an amusing sort of way.

The thing is, even though it’s only been a few days since the twins were moved into my room and I’m spending so much time in their company, my bitterness has lessened. In fact I’d go as far as to say that I love having them with me. All the things I thought I’d hate have disappeared and I’m much more involved in what they do. You’d think I’d have nothing in common with a couple of little babies, well apart from our mutual need for nappies, but I like that I’m able to comfort them. I even like the music that their electronic mobile cum monitor makes to help send them off to sleep. There’s something childishly innocent about hearing the soft music and heartbeat as Jane and Alfie settle down... it settles me too.

Anyway, before I did anything else, and it seemed like an afterthought, mum grabbed a pale blue Babygro off the shelf and slipped Alfie into it. Again, he giggled through the process and once it was snapped between his little legs, he looked really happy and comfy.

“You know,” said mum as she straightened it around him, “you could do with a couple of these.” I pulled a face – a nappy and a Babygro – I don’t think so. “They’d keep your nappies up and smooth down the bulk. People would hardly notice you were wearing any padding at all.”

Erm, was she really hinting that I should wear one as well?

She faffed about as Alfie sat on the floor, tidying a few bits and pieces and straightening out the cot’s bedding, and then said when I’m ready could I take Alfie down stairs whilst she got on with other things.

I thought at first she meant for me to go down as I was but thankfully didn’t object when I slipped up a pair of fleecy shorts to hide the bulk. However, I had to agree with her, Alfie’s nappy did look nicely contained in the Babygro. He was giggling round his dummy as I picked him up and patted his nappy and carried him to join his sister. It’s the same with Jane, if she crawls over to me or I’m just playing with her (I may have been a bit resentful but I’m not a monster) I always pat her padded little bum. I wonder if it’s something about nappies that make everyone do that. Even at my age both mum and dad always pat my padded bum when they’ve finished putting me in a nappy. Now, though I may not like having to wear one, that little patting action is quite reassuring – strange or what?

+

For the first time in what seemed like ages the following morning I didn’t wake up wet. The thicker padding had somehow kept my bladder from leaking and my general demeanour was fairly positive. Although I knew it was a one off, I began to think maybe I’d turned some kind of psychological corner and my dripping cock might become a thing of the past.

Of course, when Diane came in to change me, despite her words of pleasure and encouragement, I detected her disappointment at not having to do the job she so ‘hated’. However, she simply said that, as it wasn’t wet I might as well keep it on until it was which happened later in the day. Wondering around the house wearing such a bulky item wasn’t something I wanted anyone else seeing but it felt better wearing just that than trying to hide it all under jeans or shorts. Still, this was a good sign, or at least I hoped it was?

My brothers took the opportunity to pat my excess padding every time we passed each other. They didn’t say much although Richard always looked a little appalled, whilst Will just gave a little giggle. I suspect dad, or mum (though I doubt that) might have told them to be ‘understanding’ about my situation and being nice kids... and the fact I’m bigger than them, they just accepted what was happening to me.

Waking up dry occurred a further two mornings but then being kept in the thick nappy until it was wet was a downer. I had hoped to be able to return to wearing briefs but mummy, erm, mum said it was too soon to take that chance but was sure I’d be out of the ‘nappy business’ in next to no time.

+

Now I’d become ‘more amenable’ and less argumentative towards mum (I know she’d have loved it if I, like my brothers, still called her mummy) the atmosphere in the house changed. However, despite trying my best to be ‘nice’ somethings didn’t change. I was still subject to regular nappy inspections, still talked to as if I was a child, especially if her mates were around. Nevertheless, because I was seen as cooperating, she was less on my case and more ‘asking’ than ‘demanding’. Something else that happened when I stopped fighting back so much, I didn’t find helping my brothers as annoying either... in fact, I was finding a lot less things annoying.

As I’ve said, over time and sharing a room with a couple of babies was weird but unpredictably I’d soon got used to the sounds, sights and smells of their little lives (whether they got used to mine is another thing). There was something about these sweet, defenceless little individuals who we all functioned around. I hadn’t appreciated before just how much they needed our love, attention or protection and was surprised just how much I was prepared to give. If one of them got a bit upset in the night it was often me who picked them up and walked around trying to quieten the little mite down. Even more surprising I was quite good at it, which elicited a deal of praise from dad and that pleased me no end - I wanted that approval.

Often, when he and Diane came to bed they’d pop in to check on the babies and at the same time check I was okay as well. To be half asleep and realising its dad whose checking your nappy to make sure you’re not too wet, or brushing hair off your forehead before whispering to “sleep tight”... was something I didn’t realise just how much, even at my age, I’d missed. Dad hadn’t really said anything like that to me for ages and I’d missed that connection... and I craved more of it.

Even Diane was impressed when she saw me in the morning parading around the bedroom in my soaked nappy, which was dragging down the back of my plastic pants, whilst “shushing” and gently speaking to whichever one was being fussy. Often, no sooner had I got one settled than the other started up and I’d have to go through the whole rigmarole again. The thing was I had a soft spot for the sweet little things. They had a sort of giggle that was so endearing I wanted to get that every time I picked them up or we played together.

It was quite something to realise I had this affinity with them and it was a connection I relished. I wasn’t sure how or why this came about except it started when we were moved in together. I had no option but to take notice and in doing so I’ve become obsessed with being involved in their lives. They have softened my approach to things... maybe that’s why I’m more disposed towards Diane... or possibly, I’m simply living my life through them?

Oh, and another thing happened, I started waking up wet again but for some reason didn’t mind. Nappies, wet or dry, were what my underwear now consisted of so there was little point in getting upset if they were either... umm... maybe I was only just realising how much I wanted, erm, I mean... needed them.

+

On one occasion I was trying to get Jane to take her dummy but she wasn’t having it, which was unusual itself, so I was alternating between popping it in between my lips and then offering it to her. Hoping now at nine months old that she would want what I had and demand its return. Well, I wasn’t aware that I was being observed by both Richard and William who seeing me with a dummy in my mouth were convinced I was turning into a baby (well I was wearing quite thick padding at the time). It felt really strange at the dinner table that night when they asked mummy if I was now a baby like the twins. When she asked for clarification and they explained what they saw, I blushed and was lost for words.

“Your brother should have used a dummy many months ago and we’d all be better off...” her expression said that it would have stopped my argumentativeness but then smiled most agreeably. “But the answer is ‘No’, your brother isn’t turning into a baby he’s just being very helpful at a time of stress for mummy. We should all be grateful for what he’s doing.”

Again, praise that I wasn’t expecting sent a shiver of pleasure down my spine and as well as a brief spurt of warm pee into my nappy, I also felt the warmth of appreciation.

My brothers didn’t seem happy with their nappy-wearing brother getting praise when they thought to embarrass me but I had a comeback.

“Mum, don’t you think it’s time to put these two back into nappies for a while... they seem to like spying on me wearing mine... perhaps they really want to wear them as well?”

I can’t pretend this was a new thought. When I was put into night time nappies to begin with I hated that those two were fine. I wanted the repercussions of my sins visited on them as well but of course it was just me and... well... I felt bitter about it.

Both their jaws dropped as they saw mum look like she was actually contemplating the idea then looking over at dad who raised his eyebrows.

They looked guiltily at their food, not daring to catch either mum or dad’s eye but dad just left it with a “Hmmmmm” as if he too thought it might be a good idea. We didn’t hear a peep out of the worried boys for the rest of the night.

+ tbc+

Part 6

It was unusual that mum, dad and me were all in a game together. I couldn’t think of the last time we had this kind of relationship and daft as it sounds, I liked this act of mutual silly solidarity. This feeling might have been a one off but I knew things were shifting. I put it down to the hours I was spending at play with Alfie and Jane. Even in our room (yes OUR room) when it was just us three together, after mum had changed me into my night time nappy and I was bedding down for the night, I was enjoying the pleasant music and effects the monitor pumped out to send the little ones off to sleep. There were other benefits - the compliments I was getting from both mummy and dad, umm, mum and dad, and the joyful feeling I got when the twins did that heart-melting ‘smile’ were all that mattered.

It was really quite unexpected the way I’d become so involved. I felt like I had to see to their needs above my own and as a result saw less and less of my friends and more and more of my little family. I identified with their crying, their play (what there was of it), their moods, their joy and even their messy nappies – it was like I had to be with them and as a result I think I ended up copying what they did to a certain extent. Oddly enough, if they were wet, quite often so was I. Not that I cried when I soaked my nappy but my moods seemed to be governed by theirs - if they were happy, so was I, if they were sad or in some kind of distress, I seemed to feel it as well.

The downside to all this was that my sleep patterns were all over the place and school life saw me walking around like a zombie. Also, my wetting had gotten worse so it was suggested (nicely) by mum that perhaps it might be time to wear a nappy there as well. Of course I was against the idea until I rushed home one afternoon because I’d leaked in a history lesson. My undies couldn’t cope with the flood and I could feel the overflow begin to dribble down my thighs. I don’t think too many of my class mates noticed because I was out of there so fast but I suppose some might have guessed because when I got home the seat of my trousers was soaked.

All the arguments and refusals seemed to be mocking me and that one occasion was enough of a warning to make me accept mummy’s, I mean mum’s suggestion. She was surprised that I’d accepted it without our usual quarrel but was quick to get things ready for the next morning. She was there to get me out of my nightly soaked nappy, cleaned up and into a fresh one for school. The plain, though shiny, new tough white plastic pants she assured me would, if anyone was curious, just look like a pair of underpants so shouldn’t worry. I did but at least I wasn’t going to embarrass myself by leaving a trail of pee from one lesson to the next.

+

Diane couldn’t believe the degree of denial Jason still seemed to be in. Did he really think, after all this time, his father didn’t know he wet his briefs almost every day or that he was now wearing padding to school... but the desperation for her to ‘keep his secret’ made it so she could influence him even more... or that’s what she thought.

However, she’d been busy as usual by putting doubts in his head, “...whilst you’re still wetting love,” about going on holiday with Pete later on in the summer break. His family were driving down to Spain for a couple of weeks so they were all going to be close together for quite a long journey.

“What if you pee your pants... how are you going to explain that sweetheart?” She asked innocently, again pretending she was only thinking of him. But of course, this did increase his anxiety levels and although the holiday was something he was looking forward to, it was a hell of a chance to take. He hadn’t actually thought about having to wear nappies for the trip... believing that he’d be over it all by then.

What if they met some girls... or had to share a bed for some reason - the shame of pissing all over his friend was just too much. How he expected to keep his constant wetting a secret would be impossible. What was even worse such unease made him soak his nappy with further unanticipated warm spurts.

In the end he had to tell Pete that he couldn’t make it after all as some ‘family issues’ had cropped up. As it was, because their relationship had faltered over the past few weeks Pete didn’t seem that perturbed and immediately asked another of his friends if he wanted to take Jason’s place. The speed all this happened upset Jason tremendously and felt more alone than normal but it had to be said, the thought he might wet the bed or himself and have it witnessed by one of his school mates was just too awful to contemplate.

So, Diane had got him back to thinking of family, talked him out of going abroad and into wearing protection for school... all in all... quite a decent bit of manipulation of which she was justly proud.

The change in Jason was dramatic and to begin with was put down to his recognition that whilst he wet he needed to be wrapped in thick padding. Diane wondered if not only was he accepting that fact but was now enjoying wearing a nappy. She’d read online, and spoke about it with others on Mumsnet, that often kids suddenly want to wear nappies. One woman online said it had been the best thing that had happened to her family once she had her teenage daughter back in protection. “She calmed down and was like a different, and more pleasant, person.” Another claimed her ten year old son had insisted on wearing disposables for any long distance travel, “It was a revelation because he was no longer grumpy when we went to visit people.”

At first Diane wondered if that was what was happening to her stepson. However, once she discovered the real reason it all became so easy.

+

Thankfully, with the school’s summer break fast approaching, I didn’t have to put up with nappies at school for too long, although, I can’t pretend it wasn’t a trial every day. Still, despite the worry, it was less of a burden knowing I was well-padded and with plastic pants gripping tightly, safely assured by mummy there would be no leakage. That was another thing, like the twins, I began to be thankful for my nappy changes. Although mummy, I mean mum, still changed me with her ‘baby talk’ I didn’t find it as annoying as I used to and actually thought that the extra thick padding was a comfort. So, in a way, I was happy, yes happy, to get my wet padding sorted out by her because she knew what she was doing and it always felt right. The twins never complained so why should I?

A couple of things happened at school which sort of made me wonder about what was happening; Brian the ‘friend’ who’d taken my place on Pete’s holiday, and someone I’d been on the football team with, came up and accused me of being a ‘mummy’s boy’. He then patted my bum, laughed in my face as if he’d just delivered the ultimate put down, and went off with his mates leaving me wondering what exactly he meant by ‘mummy’s boy’. I mean, why wouldn’t I be mummy’s boy and why had he singled me out?

Then Mr Baines, the history teacher, came up and not very surreptitiously sniffed the air about me and quietly said that if I had any trouble or worries to come and see him as IT wouldn’t be a problem. To begin with I wasn’t sure what IT was, or what he was getting at until he also surreptitiously patted my bum. I realised that he probably guessed why I dashed out of his lesson and could doubtless smell the baby powder and quite possibly see I was wearing padding.

Oddly, once that possibility of people knowing sunk in I released a stream of pee and, instead of a mass of worries, surprisingly settled contently into that warming glow such action produces. I’d never have thought I’d feel grateful about wearing a nappy and tight plastic pants, especially to school, but I’d been more worried about having stained wet pants than knowing I was wearing such robust protection. For the last few days of term my dependence and confidence in class was such that it wouldn’t be right if I wasn’t wearing thick padding encased in plastic. However, the name calling increased and the number of people searching for my company during breaks or lunchtime hit an all-time low.

That was another thing, whilst at school and supposedly concentrating on the lesson; I’d be worrying about the twins. Where they ok? Was mummy looking after them? Were they missing me?

+

So! Yes things changed in the household and it took me a while to realise that I was now regarded as one of the twins. Yes, I know I’ve been complaining about being treated like that for a while but it came to a head with – the pubes incident.

I was all geared up to de-pube myself and was standing naked in the bath tub when in marched mum. She’d earlier presented me with a large tube of de-hairing cream and told to read the instructions. However, she knew what I was like so couldn’t be bothered.

Anyway, as I say, she came in whilst I was standing naked and saw the damp nappy on the floor so guessed I’d had another daytime accident and was there to check I was doing things right. She took one look at my pubic forest (as she joking called my hairy groin) and said that I needed to trim first ‘as recommended on the instructions’.

She tut-tutted and grabbed a pair of scissors from the vanity cabinet and without asking just pushed me so I was leant up against the bathroom wall and began to trim the area. Now, I told her I could do it and that I didn’t need any help but she just said that it would be a bad idea to start arguing with someone with scissors who was working next to my genitals (actually she said my sweet little bollocks). I might not have liked the situation but had to agree those scissors did look sharp.

Anyway, she snipped and tidied up the area and then, again without asking, opened up the tube and started smearing the pinkish cream all over my hairy bits. She laid it on quite thickly, front and back, and then added that ‘as it was a bit like soap’ she might as well “do the rest of me”. Again, without asking she began to spread it under my armpits, down my arms and then proceeded to do the same with my legs. I was a smeared pink blob and it was only after standing there for a few minutes she said that I should shower it all away.

I thought that was it and would leave me to it but smiling and still in charge she took a loofah to my entire body so that as I was trying to enjoy the warm spray, she was scrubbing away and making sure all the hair around my groin was gone... so were the few light hairs on my arms and legs.

Finally she turned off the shower and poured shampoo onto my hair and gave it a good massage as she often did when bathing Richard and William. I didn’t want to be enjoying the experience but it felt really nice to have my head rubbed like that and then have fresh warm water gently poured over as a final rinse. Not once did she say anything demeaning, only offered encouragement and support... it was hard not to let my guard down.

“There, doesn’t it feel nicer being looked after by mummy than constantly arguing?”

It was true it did.

+

Yes I know I should have been full of anger and resentment but it had been a long time since I’d felt such complete tenderness. We’d been at odds for so long I’d forgotten how things were at the beginning and how well we used to get on. I let her guide me to the bedroom, the twins already fast asleep, where she dried me off, rubbed soothing creams into my de-pubed area, sprinkled baby powder all over and made sure I was tightly wrapped in my thicker night time nappy. She even held out a pair of very shiny purple plastic pants for me to step into and gently shuffled them up my thighs to cover the fleecy material. The fact I then pulled on the offered light purple t-shirt made it look like I had a new set of pyjamas. It looked pretty good... well mummy thought so... I didn’t disagree.

“Gwyneth was right,” I heard her mumble under her breath but had no idea what that meant.

Quite unexpectedly she gave me a quick peck on the cheek and smiled “There, my sweet boy... you look so cute and isn’t this better than all the fighting?” and, at that moment I couldn’t deny I felt something. It may have been the lack of hair. Even though I hadn’t had much body hair to begin with, the fact that I now had none made my body feel different. My naked pubic area had felt really sensitive and peculiar as she’d rubbed in all the various products thought necessary. In fact, at one point my entire body felt like it was glowing so it was a total new experience... though wasn’t sure why I’d let it happen but I had. The anger, the anxiety and the resentment which usually accompanied any such personal interaction had been replaced by gratitude and understanding... perplexingly I’d liked what had taken place.

“Mummy knows best,” was circling in my head at the time but don’t ask me why.

She checked the twins and turned on the musical mobile/monitor “Who’s mummy’s little sweethearts then eh?... yes you are” she cooed to them whilst making sure they had their dummies in and then, as if wanting to make sure I was okay, returned to my bedside.

“Now, I know it’s early, and it is up to you, but you’ve been working pretty hard over the past few days and I think you look tired. So, why not grab a bit of early shut-eye while you can.”

She was correct; even though it was only around 8pm I did feel pretty worn out but as I wearily climbed into bed she patted my well-padded purple plastic bottom and, whether this was simply in my head or not but, well, it didn’t feel like I was being dismissed as in the past but ‘valued’?  Was I now one of ‘mummy’s little sweethearts?’ it certainly felt that way? How a simple pat could communicate any such thing I don’t know but that’s what it meant to me.

I felt really snug, the music and soft sounds coming from the monitor were very soothing, the occasional ‘slurp’ of the twins enjoying their binkies and in truth my eyes were getting heavy so let them flutter closed. Then to my astonishment I felt something being tickled against my lips. As I opened them to ask what it was, I felt a little piece of warm silicon slip in. I opened my eyes to complain but Diane just smiled and held it there. I didn’t detect any malevolence in her eyes just concern. “You’ve been very anxious so...” she said as if by way of explanation. I tried to say it wasn’t necessary but she kept it gently resting in my mouth. “Go on, give it a try... babies love their dummies for a reason... I think you’ll find it helps no end,” she softly intimated.

Again I tried to gradually spit it out but she held it there until I had to suckle to stop from drooling all over myself. The nappy, the plastic pants, the fact I was now as smooth as a baby’s bottom all seemed to indicate I was now just that... a baby. However, I wasn’t that concerned because I felt so comfy and relaxed my brain had powered-down and able to enjoy the experience. I was getting pleasure from being looked after, soothed by the same music my little baby brother and sister were hearing and unbelievably, like them, getting comfort by nursing on a dummy.

She stroked my head and whispered, “You know Jason, you’ve been incredibly helpful and I really, really appreciate how you are with the twins. I’m afraid I haven’t been very adult – meeting your aggression with aggression of my own... sorry.”

I was about to reply but she gently shushed me as if to say – that’s all that needs saying. She tapped the binkie between my lips and smiled. “No more need for either of us to feel anxious... just relax, suck and let any animosity go... and I’ll do the same.”

Remarkably, I did feel at peace... hairless my body felt different and now my mind had settled into a more comfortable, less stroppy, mode. I sucked and it didn’t feel silly, in fact, it was extremely calming... mummy was right.

Once she saw that I wasn’t going to spit it out she said her good-nights and slowly, after kissing the twins again, left me to settle down. Her words were echoing around in my head... she was ‘sorry’... it felt weird and yet I couldn’t help but feel grateful she’d said so.

I fell asleep to my own sucking rhythm... the rhythm of a soft pulsating heartbeat.

+

Although there was very little spare space in my room, sorry, our room, every surface, floor to ceiling, had toys and stuffed animals of some description occupying it. At night their mobile cum monitor played sweet music and that subtle undertone of a heartbeat I found quite relaxing. I didn’t realise just how much time I was spending with the twins ‘chatting’ to them, playing silly games, reading stories they didn’t understand but somehow I’d got myself immersed in their lives and so, because I didn’t have to be anywhere, I didn’t put on much in the way of clothing. So, often I could be found similarly dressed in nappy and plastic pants only, which I had to wear anyhow. Still, it didn’t matter because they weren’t bothered and we enjoyed each other’s company.

When mummy sat feeding Jane her meals, I’d feed Alfie before starting on my own.  The same with bottles of warm milk, I’d test it before I gave it to whichever one I was nursing. Mummy saw this and one night, instead of the dummy, offered me my own bottle of sweet, warm milk. Again she didn’t ask she simply rested it against my lips until I took it in voluntarily. Because I was speaking to all the kids and saying things like “mummy is doing this” or “daddy’s saying that” I found myself calling them both mummy and daddy quite by accident. Daddy seemed shocked the first time I called him that but Diane simply thought it was best and avoided any confusion in her son’s minds.

That was because, now Richard was nearly ten, he’d begun to call mummy ‘mum’ which she wasn’t having. He complained that his friends called their parents mum and dad and they called him a baby because he didn’t. However, she simply used me calling her mummy as a reference. “If Jason calls me mummy, so do you and your brother. It’s a sign of love and respect and I want mummy’s sweet boys to always know that I love them... and they love mummy.”

It sounded more threat than explanation but Richard got the message. She also got them both to say “Yes mummy” and the small rebellion was over before it started. Although, strangely Richard’s attitude towards me was a little resentful, as if I’d somehow let him down but he now knew mummy wasn’t to be questioned. Maybe he was worried that if he didn’t comply then wearing a nappy might become his daily underwear.

Now I was wearing a nappy full time, and mummy made sure it was always a thick one to soak up my excess pee, I no longer felt I could claim any moral high ground. This realisation only hit me when I saw my brothers getting ready to go out, whilst I was still wearing little more than what the babies had on. They looked the ‘big boys’, Richard in shirt and jeans, whilst William wore smart shorts and jumper, I looked, well like I did, one of the twins and what’s more, I couldn’t have cared less.

+

Thankfully, the shouting died down and Jason had begun to really join in and not only look after the twins but also take more time out for his brothers. Things were getting better and mummy had quietly told the boys Jason was going through ‘some things’ but had realised with his problem that wearing a nappy was for the best.

Strangely, and it appeared with their mummy’s full approval, wearing only a nappy about the house became ‘normal’. Jason had got used to being put in a night time nappy and this could have been just one more humiliation... well that is except for one thing... he didn’t care. Besides, often the nappy would be soaked without him having any knowledge of it happening. What he hadn’t realised was the amount Diane was making him drink throughout the day.

“Keep yourself hydrated sweetheart... you can never have too much liquid when you’re losing so much... so drink up.” She’d insist and Jason did as he was told.

“Mummy knows best” a constant echo in his head.

Occasionally Richard and Will would look boggle-eyed at their older brother only wearing a colourful pair of cartoon plastic pants over an enormous cushion of a nappy whilst watching TV or helping them with their projects or simply getting them up and ready in the mornings. It was a strange sight – them in normal clothes and him in such obvious baby clothes. However, mummy had told them not to say anything about it, so they didn’t, although they wanted to.

+

What was perhaps even more peculiar was that I absolutely loved being praised when I’d done something that met with mummy’s approval. Even in front of her friends she was full of compliments and often they’d join in and say what a good boy I’d become. She seemed to love praising me and showing me off, which was a lovely change. Whereas before I hated them being there, now I loved to hear them echo mummy’s nice words about me. They patted my nappy bulge just the same as they did the twins but now I didn’t mind as I thought they were being affectionate, and I liked it.

Now I was hairless what I was wearing also felt different. My body seemed more aware of the material and that was something else I liked. Mummy was giving me hugs and praise... it was like I’d slipped into an alternate loving baby world. The soft plastic that surrounded the bulky material felt slinky and childishly fun to wear. I never thought plastic or rubber pants could be so nice and I never complained now when they were tugged up my thighs and over the fleecy cotton material. I don’t know where she’d got it from but mummy produced a large purple Babygro and fastened the studs under my crotch. She was right about it holding everything in and hugged me close... I liked the sensation.

There was a new friend she had called Auntie Gwyneth (I knew that name but couldn’t remember where from or why) who said how perfect I looked and all her other friends agreed. I blushed bright pink, well that’s what it felt like but it might have been because I filled the front of my nappy I was so happy.

“Oh my God,” squealed the new auntie, “he looks so perfect. Oh how I miss Darren, he was the same... so damn cute” then there’d be a loving smile and pat on my bum.

+

At one point, when it was just me and mummy and we were sat on the sofa next to each other she said something that made me think.

“You know Jason,” I sat guarded because she sounded serious. “I think weirdly that wearing a nappy has made you a nicer person.” I looked at her wondering what was coming next. “I know there was more than a little resentment at first, and I suppose I was a bit late in acknowledging that fact, but now, when I see you and the kids together, and all the anger and confrontation has all but disappeared... well... I can’t help wondering if it isn’t for the best.”

She shrugged but got the feeling she was hoping I’d agree. The thing is, ever since the twins had been transferred to my room, I did find our relationship had grown better. What was an initial possible battleground failed because, and very much to my surprise, I loved being around them both. I’m not sure if I felt the same way when the boys were babies, mummy said I was always good with them as well, I just don’t remember having that deep connection I have with Jane and Alfie.

She continued “It’s like it used to be when you were much younger, we got along fine, I hoped it would always stay that way and hated when it didn’t” She smiled and reached for my hand to hold. “Now, despite the wet mornings and extra laundry I see that wearing a nappy has made you better...  more considerate. I know you feel I treat you as a baby but I mean it in the best way... I want you to feel loved like it used to be between us. I want us to be more than friends and I think by you wearing a nappy it’s made that possible.” She thought for a moment and then added, “It’s taken me a while to appreciate what all this means,” she gestured towards my padding, “You being all but back to when everything was nicer, less anxiety, less responsibility and having FUN... so... that’s got to be better than it has been. I don’t think you should think of being anything less than you are because you wear a nappy, just be happy and content.” And then she gave me the biggest of hugs that took my breath away.

Bloody hell, and although I didn’t follow or necessarily agree with all she said... I hadn’t been expecting her to sound so understanding.

+

It was true – I didn’t wriggle or act awkward when she insisted that I needed extra anti-rash cream. I think I became a little addicted to baby powder and loved the smell when either the babies or I were showered in it. The thicker nappies had a softness to them that made my de-haired bits and pieces feel like they belonged snugly wrapped tightly as they were. In fact, mummy kept repeating that everything was better and I appreciated things more than I had and wondered what I’d had against them at the start... nappies were great... mummy said so. In truth, the atmosphere in the house was much more pleasant and mummy was keen to give my change of character the credit.

In fact, the more mummy and daddy said nice things about me, the more I wanted to please them. I became hooked on that praise and in return I did exactly what they wanted. If mummy put me in certain clothes after she’d changed my wet morning nappy, I didn’t fight her for anything extra – if that is what she was dressing me in, like the twins, then that is what I would wear. Colourful and childishly patterned plastic pants were slipped over my fat padding and I didn’t mind. If we were going out anywhere she suggested I wear a new colourful onesie that suddenly appeared from nowhere and told me that it would hide some of the bulk the nappy caused. It all became obvious and unstressful... the entire household was benefitting from my change in attitude by accepting that I wear a nappy for good reason.  

She hadn’t said that I had to only wear padding around the house but I noticed her nods of approval when that’s all I wore. For some reason it didn’t seem important to wear tons of clothes and I sort of got used to the feel of just being in my nappy. Besides, I was wetting more so access was made easier if my clothing was kept to the minimum. I still had my responsibilities towards my brothers and a pair of shorts hid my nappy (well almost) for any immediate outside ventures and I didn’t resent that any more. Daddy was still working hard but seemed to appreciate that when he was home we were now all getting along.

+ tbc +

Part 7

Jason had no idea what was happening, his fifteen year old rebelliousness had somehow, and without being aware of it, faded away. In his place was a nervous kid dependent on thick protection, a lad who just happened to love being with his baby brother and sister but desperate for mummy and daddy’s love and approval. These days he couldn’t remember why he was so nasty towards his step-mum, it all seemed so alien to him... he was a good boy. Diane kept her positive reinforcement going at every opportunity, letting him know he was a good boy and this approval was what he wanted more than anything.

Meanwhile, Richard and William looked on having no idea why there much older brother was wandering around the house wearing thick padding and little else. But as their parents didn’t seem that bothered decided they shouldn’t either. Mummy tried to explain as best she could that Jason was trying to be a good brother to the twins like he had been to both of them. Clothes weren’t banned it was just his preference; all very natural and acceptable (and as mummy kept repeating - it also made changing his damp nappies easier). So, as well as taking the boys to where ever they were meant to be, when needed, he’d happily step in to babysit. This gave their parents an opportunity to venture out for an evening alone, which had been a very rare occurrence in recent times. They were happy to leave the kids with their very attentive older brother.

Richard in particular wasn’t sure, William wasn’t bothered. Jason wearing a hidden nappy was just about OK but with it on view... well what would people think? If the eldest was... would they think all the boys in the family had to wear nappies? Mummy had restated that unless they also wet the bed they were in no danger of following in their brother’s footsteps but Jason was in need of them so not to make a fuss. It was all just normal, well, normal for him.

The boys had been going on about a new Minions movie they wanted to see and it was suggested that Jason took them. However, he said he wasn’t that keen and would much rather stay at home and, as dad was working late, babysit the twins so mummy could have a night out as well.

“Well, if you’re sure,” Diane saw the excited look on Richard and Will’s faces and a loud cheer from them both when she happily agreed to take them to the cinema. “You two can be my chaperons for the evening.” She said making the boys feel more grown up, even if it was the Minions they were going to see.

Diane had decided to make an evening of it for her sons by taking them to McDonald’s before the show started, which had got them even more excited because they rarely got to go to their favourite restaurant. Mummy was full of praise for her sons; they looked very grown up in their smart casual clothes and waved to their older brother as they skipped excitedly down the street towards the bus to town.

Later, as they ate their Big Macs and guzzled down huge colas, the two boys had never been happier. For once they were the centre of mummy’s attention; no strange older brother, no twins, just them and her and they loved every second of it. Even though there was no school the following morning such a night out was still a wonderful treat. Mummy was in good spirits, the food was of course excellent and the movie had received brilliant reviews and, like big boys, they were going to a ‘late’ showing so wouldn’t be back until after 9pm, which was quite late for them.

+

Although at fifteen Jason shouldn’t like the Minion movie he was sorry to miss it. He’d laughed along with his brothers at the other Minion and Gru exploits but these days wanted to be in mummy’s good books and babysitting the twins wasn’t any ordeal at all. With daddy at work, and the rest of the family out at the movies, Jason climbed into the play pen where the twins were surrounded by all manner of squeaky, noisy, fluffy and fun items to keep them occupied. Well, in truth, it didn’t keep them occupied as much as their babysitter who threw himself into entertaining Jane and Alfie with his silliness. The baby’s bubbly giggles, wide-eyes and surprised look on their faces drove him on to pull more funny expressions, blow bubbles, shake, cuddle and baby-talk to the menagerie of stuffed animals and generally keep busy. The twins seemed to love it as much as he did.

He took it in turn holding them up and encouraging them to take early steps, or build up bricks, or tap a toy that made an animal sound. He had fun with pop-up picture books, which seemed to fascinate Jane in particular, whilst Alfie was more interested in things that squeaked. When it was time for a bottle he tried to feed them both at the same time, if they didn’t finish it, he did. On the occasions when their nappies were wet wasted no time in getting them all clean and fresh again. Strange thing is, when alone with them, he often thought of himself as being the same age especially as they played. He became ‘big brother’ when needed but otherwise he’d immerse himself in their world.

+

For the first time in a number of weeks Dad arrived home just after 8pm to a very quiet house; the lights were on and the TV was on mute but there was none of the usual hubbub of family life. He’d been so busy recently that he often left the house around seven before the kids got up and arrived back home after ten when they were in bed so rarely got chance to spend time with any of them. Diane had reported that Jason had stepped up so was pleased with his change of attitude to being more family positive.

Howard had been relieved that the bitterness and general disruption in the house, as far as his eldest and wife were concerned, seemed to be at an end. He never questioned the ‘whys’ or ‘wherefores’, he took what Diane said as the way things were. He’d watched his son become more and more reliant on nappies as his incontinence got worse but, because of his own ridiculous workload, left Diane to make all the necessary arrangements to keep him clean and tidy. He trusted her judgments completely.

However, he was home early for a reason, he’d had some excellent news that he couldn’t wait to share. Unfortunately, he’d forgotten that his wife and two of his boys had gone to the cinema so all his pent up excitement would have to wait.

Nevertheless, in the living room he was surprised to see three babies snoozing in the playpen. Jason, wearing only his nappy and plastic pants, had fallen asleep and his two little charges, one in each arm, had snuggled up and were slumbering against him.

+

The change in Jason’s attitude had been a surprising bonus. Since Diane had moved the twins into his room the expected ructions just didn’t happen, well, not like Howard had feared. Instead, over the last few weeks since it had happened, the teenager was more loving and attentive to his roommates and so his father no longer received complaints from Diane about his conduct. Indeed, now he looked down at the three huddled together; Jason seemed to fit into the scene with remarkable ease... just as his wife had explained.

Of course, seeing his teenage son only wearing nappies and plastic pants on a night made him worry but was assured by Diane that all that was needed was to let Jason work things out for himself. She had a way with words that, although not profound, did give a feeling of understanding and nurture.

“He’s been on a journey love,” she said explaining to Howard why his son was wearing nappies during the day as well now, “and, although it’s taken some time and a few unnecessary hurdles, I think the boy has found himself.”

Jason had now done that and was happier wearing padding and looking out for the rest of his siblings. Howard wasn’t sure what was going on but had been constantly assured by his wife that it was all part of a ‘process’ and everyone should be happy for him.

She’d even bragged that her friends and neighbours were quite jealous of the fact that despite having to wear protection Jason was so attentive to his brothers and sister that they wished they had a ‘wonderful caring son’ like him. It had been a struggle and Howard had to give credit where it was due. Diane had insisted that once he was wearing a nappy and the fear of leaks was avoided, then Jason would settle down and be more accommodating.

For a lad who not so long ago was fighting to be a teenager to slip so quickly into being a tot was quite remarkable. Whether noticed or not Jason didn’t seem to question that he had. In fact, if anything, the consensus (Diane’s opinion) was put down to his proximity to the twins day and night. That and the fact he was becoming more and more reliant on his own nappy to keep him dry and free from public embarrassment. Others wondered what magic potion Diane had slipped into his nappies to make him so eager to be compliant, whilst others were just happy that his quarrelsome attitude had simply changed for the better of all concerned... thanks to the unending love and understanding of his step-mum.

+

Although Diane had not had to slip anything into Jason’s nappies to get him to comply, she had been busy with the sophisticated mobile/monitor which she activated when the twins went to bed. She remembered when Richard and William were babies just how difficult it had been at times to get them to drop off and decided that with the twins, she’d try the very latest (and expensive) in baby entertainment Nighty Bye-Byes to help. Not only did it act as a video monitor it also played a selection of musical ditties aimed at Sleepy-time for babies; delta waves with soothing hums and echoes, the sound of mummy’s heartbeat (not actual mummy’s but just a calming heartbeat) together with her soft words of love and reassurance (her voice could be pre-recorded and then fed at random into the system), all acted as melodious sophisticated comfort to anyone who was sleeping in the room.

Who could resist being told ‘mummy loves her sweet babies’ or ‘yes you are mummy’s little darlings’ or babies are ‘cute just the way you are’- plus a host of other loving and babyish terms of endearment. Thus, whilst he slept, not only were Alfie and Jane being serenaded and spoken to but also Jason received inspiring words that reduced his anger and delivered heartening testaments about being a wonderful little baby. Of course the twins were too young to understand such words but a tired teenager might just be influenced by them.

Diane had no idea it was this soft nurturing sleepy-time melody that was actually facilitating the change in Jason’s attitude. It was only by chance that he said a phrase that echoed with something she’d recorded for the monitor. This freakish phenomenon got her taking more notice. It seemed that each morning he woke up, and although soaked, was also less grumpy. She quickly detected a decline in arguments, an almost immediate acceptance of mummy’s and daddy’s jurisdiction and a burgeoning love for his brothers and sister.

This was all so incredible she didn’t quite believe it, how could it, especially the speed at which it was happening? So the monitor, with its heartbeat and special comforting delta waves she bought to serenade the twins, was having a more dramatic and immediate effect on Jason... the results were absolutely incredible. To make sure it all fit together, and seeing as he was already pretty dependent on them, added the simple refrain to her discreet, yet loving nighty-night words of comfort, about the need for ‘lovely thick nappies and sweet plastic panties’ ‘wetting nappies was okay’ ‘mummy knows best’ and ‘kind babies are the happiest babies’.

She chose her soothing and encouraging words carefully. She didn’t want anything to happen that couldn’t happen naturally. However, his startlingly speedy compliance to what the monitor was pumping out each night led Diane to try other things. Once she’d noticed this phenomenon there was no way she wouldn’t use it to her advantage. She spoke more positively and directly to Jason about how sweet and helpful he was when he did what mummy suggested and how much mummy and daddy appreciated it all. “Mummy loves to see her little boy in his thick nappy and lovely colourful plastic panties” and “Onesies makes Jason a happy boy” were just a few of the many ‘suggestions’ she fed into the machine. The fact that it wasn’t a constant churning out of her words, only intermittently, that made them so compulsive. They slipped unobtrusively into Jason’s head and he had no idea why he reacted the way he did but there was no denying, he loved all those things mummy said he should.

She knew her words wouldn’t mean anything to the twins but it excited her to see just how influential they were on Jason. She introduced a liking for a binkie to the soundtrack and gently let him feel it would help. He took to it with no trouble. The speed at which this ‘suggestion’ was taken up intrigued her, which in turn led to a regular night-time baby bottle of warm milk. Again something he took to without any argument and as far as she was concerned, visually very satisfying. She also realised that adding a night time drink made certain for an exceedingly wet nappy come morning.

There had been a couple of mornings when it looked like he might be over his nightly soaking, perhaps even gaining back a bit of control. Diane was having none of that... she wanted him just as he was... suggestible and wet.  

“My baby boy loves his milkies... baby loves his bot-bot...” and other such suggestions were seeing instant results. So, even when the monitor wasn’t running, mummy was there with the positive message that he was “...like the twins...such a good boy” and insist he kept himself “well hydrated”. If the twins were having their bot-bots, so was he but Diane always made sure one was out and available for Jason, so he could suckle when not doing anything else.

The knock-on effect of that meant as he was drinking more, the more he filled his nappy, the thicker the padding. She got no argument from him as he was mummy’s “little champ” and that was what he loved to hear. She loved her unexpected control over her stepson who’d gradually and successfully been reduced to a more incontinent boy. The recording playing throughout the night, every night, made sure he was aware of the fact that wetting his nappy was a good thing... because mummy said so.

Now, unbeknownst to anyone but Diane she had got Jason just where she wanted him. Although mummy had told him that she was no longer angry and was on his side, she still retained that need to dominate... it was after all in her blood  (she imagined if she could have got her brothers to piss themselves how fantastic would that have been). Perhaps it was no more than a little kickback to the stress he’d created in the past but could all this power possibly make him even more subservient to her wishes. So, she reasoned, if it was done in a loving and understanding environment, and those with eyes could see just how caring she was, did anyone else need to know?

It was amazing for her to see just how easily he took each suggestion and once it was there in his brain, he seemed more than happy to accept it as natural. So, she didn’t have to rely heavily on her night time words having an effect, just the constant affirmation during the day got the job done.

For her the satisfaction of seeing her annoying stepson reduced to little more than a toddler was worth all the effort involved on her part. Mummy was going to ‘lovingly’ parade Jason for all to see how she deals with an uppity teen, and what’s more, he was going to be happy about it... because he was mummy’s little trooper.

Her friends and neighbours had been gobsmacked at how amenable Jason had become, especially when she occasionally checked and changed his soggy nappy right in front of them but received barely a whimper of dissent. Of course she didn’t let on to them about the fantastic baby monitor breakthrough (worth every penny she paid for the astonishingly wonderful gadget) she let them think he’d been tamed by her natural wiles, cunning and force of personality. The angry teen was now a compliant little kid who did as mummy said without question and, like his baby brother and sister, that included where and when he got his nappy changed.

+

Howard wasn’t sure if he should wake his eldest son but decided if he was that tired then he probably needed to sleep. However, he did notice that Jason’s nappy looked like it was in desperate need of a change whereas the twins looked fine.

Whilst trying not to wake him Howard picked up the twins and with hardly any reaction to being moved carried them to their cots and settling each down with their binkies. It would seem that Jason had tired them out with whatever games he played and of course the family was grateful for the time and effort he put in to keep them occupied.

The fact that he could now change the baby’s nappies made no difference to Diane’s rule that said he shouldn’t change his own. The heartbeat monitor was very clear on that point, “only mummy or daddy can change baby’s nappy”. At one point earlier, when he suggested he should change himself, Diane reminded him of their ‘secret’ and that she never let on about his wet briefs on the condition he always did as he was told. He gave in to her argument immediately feeling guilty for bringing it up but now, with those extra ‘words of encouragement’ from the monitor, only expected an adult to change his nappies.

To Jason he was in toddler mode when playing with the twins but quirkily, because of that rule, he’d be walking around with a full squelchy nappy being held up by equally saggy plastic pants waiting for mummy or daddy to change him. These days he never created a fuss and patiently waited his turn or for them to notice what was needed. Otherwise, he’d simply walk around with it all day.

However, daddy didn’t know about all that... all he knew was his son needed a change. So, next on the list was to get his eldest into clean fresh padding and into bed. He gently shook him awake where a tired Jason smiled in recognition and hugged him.

“Sorry daddy must have fallen asleep,” he yawned, stretched and looked a bit guilty. His plastic pants crinkled as he tried to rise and he could feel the weight of the soggy material underneath.

“That’s no problem... er... sweet boy,” this was the first time he’d used such words though he’d heard his wife call him that recently and had witnessed the joyful smile that appeared on his son’s face. Jason wriggled and smiled at daddy using such an affectionate term. “But let’s get you out of this messy nappy and into a fresh one shall we?”

“Okay” and was gently led upstairs to his shared room where he first checked on his little brother and sister before lying out on the changing area. It was relatively rare that Howard got a chance to change his kids because of his ridiculous work schedule and the hours he kept but this, well this was something that he should do. His wife had been clear about what Jason required and daddy changing him would be an emotional bridge the boy needed.

+

Diane had done a great job in convincing her husband that this was just what Jason desired. His slip from angry teen to mother’s little helper, though in many ways quite dramatic, had, according to her, been what he wanted all along and, all the antagonism was just his way of asking to be the way he was now. Of course Howard didn’t quite believe it at first but saw the way Jason reacted to being praised. With peace in the house and everyone seemingly happy with the way things were, why would he try and alter anything which obviously worked?

The term ‘Sweet Boy’ came about when Diane was rocking Alfie after he’d just been fed and said he was the sweetest baby boy in the world. Jason had innocently asked if he was as well and she confirmed that they both were. He seemed to like the term so waggled his hips like a happy little toddler, which in turn emphasised his thick padding. He looked coyly up at mummy and smiled as innocently as possible and, in that one innocent response, she saw what being treated like one of the twins meant to him.

For Diane it was a peculiar moment; she had him both as a ‘big boy’ and ‘little baby’ at the same time. He could take on teenage responsibilities, but worked better being a little kid. She pondered this for a while until she came up with an answer – Jason acted as a teenager when she wanted him to take on such responsibility because he needed her validation.

So now Jason was keen to help out without resentment; to actually want to take his brothers to football or spend hours with the twins reading and playing with them. Howard simply wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t noticed just how much more content his eldest was and that all the early annoying antagonism had disappeared. 

Diane had of course changed her approach to dealing with her stepson by repeatedly reporting back to his father about how wonderfully things were going. Needless to say there was no mention of the ‘special monitor’ but made it clear that Jason was having issues. She realised that he had a lot going on that he couldn’t quite understand (being at that difficult age) but was, as she kept emphasising to hubby, thankfully working through them.

All teenagers, she said with what sounded like sound logic, grow up at different speeds. Some are slow to adapt, some are quick, whilst others are scared or confused by the entire thought of adulthood and the responsibilities that incurs.

She’d wondered if his bed wetting was an unsubtle cry for attention but had mistakenly jumped to the conclusion that it was just him being an annoying teen. However, now admitted she was wrong and appreciated that being fifteen and having to grow up so hastily had been quite a strain on him and that, with the twins now getting all the attention, he was somehow regressing back to a time when he was the centre of all that devotion.

All this psychosomatic stuff appeared to be the answer as she quoted articles and research she’d read online carried out by professors and psychologists to prove her point. She added that anything Howard could do to cement that bond would make Jason feel especially loved.

She admitted that it had taken her awhile to see all this, but according to those sources, it was not that unusual for an older sibling to feel overshadowed by their younger ones and find a way of getting that supposed ‘lost love’ back. She insisted that the best way to deal with it was with understanding, love and let him behave and be treated the way he wants - less stress all around. Thanks to his wife’s dogged research Howard was relieved to have one less thing to worry about. He’d gladly accepted her conscientious understanding of the situation at face value and went along, as always, with what she prescribed as the most sensible solution. He wasn’t sure how all this came about but with all the work he had to catch up on, was relieved there was an ‘official’ explanation to his son’s bizarre development.

+

“Mummy” and “Daddy” were what all three boys now called their parents. It had taken Diane a while to get Jason on board but was now just as at ease using these terms as Richard and William. However, as Howard looked down on his passive but sodden son he wondered if the rule he shouldn’t change himself might be better if he was now allowed. He’d speak to Diane when she and the boys returned from their trip to the cinema. He chuckled to himself, a rare event these days, but couldn’t wait to tell them his incredible news that would change everything.

Meanwhile, there was work to do, his son’s nappy wasn’t going to change itself and although he didn’t do this often Diane had insisted that either of them needed to make sure he was correctly and securely nappied to avoid any possible leaks (a leaky nappy would prove just too embarrassing for the lad). It was his chance to show both Jason and Diane he was on-board with and understood all that was taking place. However, on the changing table there was already fresh padding set out. The fleecy material seemed larger but also there were extra soaker pads and new thicker glossy rubber-looking pants with Disney cartoon characters all over them. Howard thought that his wife must have put them there for a reason, perhaps Jason was wetting more so needed all this extra stuff, anyway if that’s what she’d decided then that’s what he’d be wearing.

For a brief moment he wondered where she was getting all this new stuff from (not knowing about the box of second hand clothes) and was it an expense she should have discussed. “Well I don’t suppose it matters because soon we’ll have no financial worries” he said with a chuckle to no one in particular as he grabbed the items and returned his attention to his son.

+

Jason seemed relieved to be getting rid of his soaked nappy and let daddy change him with barely any resistance. He could see daddy contemplating each item before wiping him clean, rubbing in the oily barrier cream and delivering a cloud of talc with a flourish. For the first time in ages daddy seemed less lined, less tired and happy. Both seemed to be enjoying this moment of intimacy.

“You know Jason, I was sorry you missed out on your trip abroad,” he rubbed in the talcum powder as his son just smiled back up at him. “However,” he added quietly as if sharing a secret, “and you’re going to be the first to know, I’ve been headhunted... and we will be going somewhere sunny to live, permanently, wouldn’t that be nice?” He searched for some reaction but only got an “Oooohhh” it didn’t appear he was aware of what was being said. “OK, you’re tired,” he acknowledged, “perhaps it’s the wrong time to tell you but it will mean you’ll be getting your own room back. In fact, all you kids will have your own rooms and...” but decided to stop there. He’d wait and tell them all together. 

Finally, with a tender smile and a little effort daddy fed the much thicker fresh nappy up between his son’s splayed out legs and pinned it into place. To finish the job he slipped the new glossy rubber pants up his thighs and patted them firmly into place. There was absolutely no doubt that his son now looked like a toddler. However, the winning and contented smile on the boy’s face convinced him he was happy with the situation.

“There you go all freshly...” he paused for thought again. Although he was still a little perturbed about this nappy lark there was no doubt that these days he did seem a lot happier and certainly a lot less ‘fussy’. Diane had explained to him it was a miracle Jason had come to appreciate the situation and declared how grateful he was for the care and attention they paid in making sure his nappy fitted securely. She also said with an appreciative smile that Jason had never looked cuter and at that moment, Howard could hardly disagree... because it brought back memories of baby Jason with his first wife.

A grateful son reached out for a hug, surprised, though willingly Howard returned the gesture. The hug was tight and quite intense as Jason murmured his thanks and whispered how much he loved his daddy. Thinking of his first wife and baby son had brought an unexpected lump to his throat and a tear to his eye.

“It’s alright son... I love you as well.”

It took this emotional moment for Howard to realise that it had been some time since the two of them had been quite as intimate. Howard wondered if that had been part of the problem. Boys, as they get older tend to pull away from physical contact with their parents... had he got it wrong, was he partly to blame, and that wasn’t what his son was desperate for... it was in fact affection? The hug lasted longer than any he’d had with his son since a toddler and, as he rubbed his son’s back and patted his sleek rubber padded bottom, was reminded just how warm and loving his son could be and how nice it was to cuddle a child.

+

He guiltily thought how, since the twins had been born, all affection had been directed towards them and he’d not had time for his other boys - not that he didn’t still embrace them but work was taking its toll timewise and emotionally - he needed to make more of an effort for his family. The good news he couldn’t wait to share would solve all that – more money, new location and bigger house... and better still, a life/work balance that would take away some of the pressures.

Eventually, with a soft kiss to his needy but sweet boy’s forehead he assisted him off the changing table. A few wobbly steps later helped Jason climb under the bed covers and, with a reassuring pat to his bulky but joyful cartoon inspired posterior, let his boy wriggle contently down and yawn his need for sleep.

The sudden bout of bedwetting, the move to day time wetting and his need, no, love for his nappies were an obvious indicator that his son needed this (what was it his wife called it – regression therapy?) more than anything else. On his own Howard would never have thought this was what the solution could be but Diane (who had over time easily misdirected her husband), proved herself to be the perfect mother and seen exactly what his troubled son craved.

Howard wasn’t a stupid man, but was a busy and relieved man. The last few months of anger and resentment that had been the basis for life at home had, as he’d hoped, eventually passed. He knew his son was really a ‘nice lad’ and with the correct understanding and guidance all would turn out well. Although at times he’d been called upon to lay down the law he’d seen that his wife, who was the recipient of all the nastiness, had proved to be a martyr. Once she’d discovered exactly what Jason’s problem was had found a way to let him discover for himself just what was best for him.

He loved that Diane, although prone to anger, had, despite having the twins as well as the rest of the household to contend with, taken the time to help his son find himself. He had no idea that what was needed was this but, and this is what he was most proud of, his diligent and caring wife hadn’t give up on him.

Despite all the worries about his teenage son wearing nappies and seemingly having nothing but family in his life, there was no doubt, judging by the hugs, smiles, giggles and easy going nature, the lad had never appeared more satisfied.

“Night-night son,” he said with renewed affection.

“Night-night daddy...ummmm, can I have my binkie please?”

Howard saw it on the bedside table but hadn’t realised, despite its larger size, that it was his, he thought it was just another for the twins. In spite of the initial shock, the fact that his son wanted it was proof as far as he was concerned that it was, as his wife had insisted, something he desired and to deny him his true nature just wasn’t right.

She’d inferred that using the same phrases that they used towards the twins would make Jason feel that much better. So, ‘sweetheart’, ‘baby’, ‘little cutie’ etc would help him know that both parents understood what he was going through and what was required to help.

+

When Howard initially raised concerns about a teenager wandering around the house in just nappies and plastic panties she’d just smiled and told her hubby to relax. “It’s something he likes to do, says he’s more comfortable and besides... he’s not hurting anyone and his wet nappies are easily accessible... so why create waves where there really aren’t any?”

He couldn’t disagree because he did look remarkably unconcerned about the way he dressed and furthermore, there was a bounce (and waddle) to his step, which hadn’t been seen for a long, long time.

Diane had insisted that things had never been better between the two of them and pointed out, once hubby was less busy, they’d have more time to spend together because Jason was only too happy to ‘help out’.

“Here you go champ,” daddy slipped the large white binkie between his lips now totally convinced this is what his boy wanted.

“Fwanq Ooo Dathy,” was the reply around the slippery silicon bulb.

“Sleep tight son” and pressed a button on the monitor.

With daddy’s final words echoing inside his head, and the nice music from the monitor begin to play Jason felt all cosy and relaxed.

In his content and unhindered state he happily and naturally experienced the first warming flow of pee into his thick, thick nappy. It would be the first of many... like every other night for the foreseeable future... as mummy’s magical, reinforcing words of love, praise and the need for her trio of nappy users to stay happy little babies made sure it was a done deal.

Well that was mummy’s idea. Except, with daddy’s exciting news... change was in the works. So, any current done deals might well be undone.

+ end +

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