An Old Problem – Chapter Four
“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god… what had mum and Mrs Dewhurst talked about?”
Mum seemed to have been in there ages. In fact, it must have been quite some time because I’ve wet my nappy in nervous anticipation whilst waiting for her to come out. I didn’t even get chance to question her before she rushed off home. No doubt I’m going to be called in soon and told off for mum’s impromptu visit.
Mrs Dewhurst looked out to me as she drew the blinds to her office. She’s done that before if she gets a migraine and no doubt mum had encouraged one along. I was trying to concentrate on my work but had a nagging suspicion mum had fled so she wouldn’t have to explain anything.
What could that be?
After about half an hour Mrs Dewhurst beckoned me to her office. Again pessimistic Deidre voiced her troubled opinion – “That can’t be good” – before I nervously made my way there.
She was sitting behind her desk unwrapping the shiny purple covering of a Hazel in Caramel from a large box of Roses Chocolates on her desk.
“Thank you for these… they weren’t necessary but much appreciated.”
“Oh, that’s why mum came. I, I, erm, wanted to thank you again for your, um, kindness…”
“Yes, your mother said you were considerate that way.” She smiled a chocolatey smile.
I felt relieved that’s what mum brought in but now I felt stupid for getting myself in a state and flooding my nappy.
“You’re a very lucky lad Anthony having a mother who is so attentive to your needs.”
“Yes, well we’re that type of family… all quite close and all…”
“Needless to say, we did talk about your little accident in the office yesterday and the possible reasons for that.”
I felt everything tighten up in response and another spurt of pee entered my already soaked nappy. I didn’t know what to say or do and I stood there struck dumb waiting for her to dismiss or ridicule me or…”
“She tells me that you are back in protection is that correct?”
I didn’t want to admit it but this was someone in power so I wasn’t going to lie. I nervously nodded yes.
“I suspect that you are wet at the moment… is THAT correct?”
Again, I was in no position to deny anything and reluctantly nodded.
“OK, well your mother has convinced me that to get the best out of you whilst you have this problem, and that you will work more efficiently, is if you are put into a dry nappy.”
She looked into my eyes that were trying desperately to look elsewhere.
“Do you think she’s correct in that assessment?” She’d never spoken to me in that sort of inquisitive tone before and I was caught off-guard.
My entire body was in flight mode and yet I was stuck, unable to force my muscles to respond, her deep pile carpet held me like a spider’s web. It felt like I’d been a naughty little lad caught in some stupid act.
#
She slipped another chocolate in her mouth, I couldn’t see which one but it did give time to think about my next move. There wasn’t one.
“Hmmm not very talkative at the moment but your mother and I have sorted your dilemma. As from today, until you are over these damp episodes, I have spare nappies and stuff here for you to change into.”
Now my body really was reacting to this news and I was shaking violently within.
“As you are wet at the moment I don’t see why you shouldn’t change now.” It didn’t seem a request just something that was going to happen. “And, if you’ll pardon my presumption, although your mother has already sanctioned the next move, I’m going to change you as I would my thirteen year old daughter when she has a similar problem.”
I could feel a scream, a shout, a pleading but nothing but numbness gripped my body. I definitely wanted to say no but… mum had already authorised this, this, this betrayal of my privacy.
I was praying for someone to come in, or the phone to ring, or something to avoid the embarrassment that mum and Mrs Dewhurst had organised. I couldn’t believe what she’d just said or that was an action she’d be prepared to take.
I found my voice… it was small and almost imperceptible. “But, but…” and that was the sum total of my protest.
“Anthony, I know this might seem a bit unconventional,” her probing voice had become more friendly and understanding. “But you are in a very delicate position and your mother is worried that your nappy will cause further problems if left unattended.”
I stood mortified.
“OK Anthony, just lie out on the carpet and leave the rest to me. Think of me as your surrogate mother… and I’ll think I’m changing my daughter… so we should both be less embarrassed.”
I was standing stock still and stunned… this can’t be happening.
“Anthony,” she barked. “I’ll not tell you twice and in future you’ll do as I say immediately if you don’t mind. I have other things to deal with apart from your wet nappy. Now take off your pants and lie out on the carpet.”
When authority barks an order I do as I’m told so nervously lowered my pants, exposing the soaked and saggy material being held up by an equally bulging pair of opaque plastic pants.
“Your mother is correct a wet nappy shouldn’t be left for too long.”
Good grief how on earth had they got around to talking about nappies?
The thing was the fabric had turned a pale yellow and the odour of urine assaulted the senses. If it wasn’t for the firmness and immediate action of Mrs Dewhurst I would have died from embarrassment. I didn’t get the time or opportunity to protest as she just looked around, I guess to make sure she had all the correct items to complete the change.
Now I was dreading anyone coming in but the office knew if the blinds were drawn only in emergency was she to be disturbed. We were all aware of the nasty migraines she suffered and needed a few minutes of peace and quiet to fight it off.
I lay there like a statue unable to speak or move. This was terrible pressure and I felt myself spurt another warm jet into my already sodden nappy.
She opened her desk and took out some wet wipes, tubes of ointment and container of powder. She hesitated a little bit before revealing a brand new nappy, which she then immediately set about folding.
Once that was ready she released the saturated material around my hips and exclaimed just how wet it was. I was dying from total embarrassment as she wiped the damp area around my equipment.
“Now don’t be embarrassed Anthony (a bit late for that) just relax and I’ll have this done in a short while.”
#
Why was this happening? I’m a working man not a toddler. This shouldn’t be happening.
It felt like my body was ablaze with humiliation as she wiped across my penis and balls. I could see she was about to say something but changed her mind and just decided to say how nice, clean and dry I’d be before too long.
I could have done with one of those chocolates and, as if reading my mind, she picked one out and handed it to me. “To take your mind off things…”
I sighed and, as she pulled the entire damp thing away “Lift up sweetie… erm… I mean please Anthony” instantly slipped the fresh nappy under my bum.
I did and she quickly manoeuvred it into place, rubbed in some lotion followed by a sprinkling of powder.
“Best not have too much, don’t want everyone wondering who smells of talc now do we.”
By then I’d managed to unwrap the sweet and popped it into my mouth to slowly let it melt on my tongue. It’s my favourite way of eating chocolate. It did ease some of my anxieties.
She pulled the fabric edges up between my legs and across my lower abdomen and, after a bit of tugging and realigning, pinned them tightly together with a couple of huge pins with blue plastic covers over the ends.
“Is that OK?”
I nodded but it felt different from when mum does it.
“Good, well nearly done.” She then reached over and pulled out what I assumed were a packet of plastic pants. I was correct.
She used her teeth to rip open the seal and jiggled out three huge pairs of glass-like covers.
“Well, these aren’t what I was expecting but it’s what your mother left so…”
Again my voice, although inwardly crying out in protest, remained stoically silent to anyone else. Also I’d reached the centre of the chocolate and a sweet, sticky orangey flavour burst on to my tongue. Mmmmmmm that tastes sooo good.
At the same moment she shuffled the slippery plastic up my legs, the dry thick material clearly visible under cover and squeezed all the excess air out before indicating I could put my trousers back on.
I stood up and couldn’t get over how different a dry nappy felt, it seemed to hang differently as well but under the vinyl pants all I could identify were the folds and pins.
#
She watched in fascination as I nervously dragged my pants up. There was a slight feeling of extra padding but otherwise she’d done a good job. Although I was horrified by what had just happened, I was also appreciative of being out of a soaked nappy. Whenever I was put into a nappy I had these mixed feelings – annoyed yet appreciative.
She slipped the used wet items into a plastic bag.
“You need to come and collect this before you go home tonight… your mother will be expecting them.”
At that moment I simply nodded as if I was a schoolboy and been told I could take home some project made in class to be admired by the family.
In fact, the entire procedure had me thinking back to being a kid and the times I’d been scared by a storm and my wetting returned. Although most of the earlier occasions were sketchy I remembered some where we never knew just how long the problem would last. Damp patches appeared without warning and then so did saturated pull-ups or nappies, which meant I was changed in assorted places as mum or dad made sure I didn’t sit around in soggy stuff for too long.
“Ermm, thank you… erm…” I didn’t know whether to call her Paula or Mrs Dewhurst. Using her Christian name seemed a bit too familiar and disrespectful considering what had just taken place.
I left her office and the eyes of the team where on me. “No raise I’m afraid… mum just checking on my holiday entitlements.” It was the best excuse I could come up with on the spur of the moment.
The rest of the day passed without incident or comment and I was glad to get my bus home, armed with my secret shame in a plastic bin bag. The day had been peculiar and as the journey continued I began to chuckle to myself. Incredibly, I’d been changed by the boss. I’d had a chocolate shoved in my mouth to keep me occupied, reminiscent of the times mum would slide a dummy in to keep me quiet when I had a change. Weird or what?
Despite the strange circumstance I was glad to be in a dry nappy, it made such a difference to how I worked and reacted to those around me. To be candid, a soggy wet nappy is not nice to sit around in so no matter how excruciating the change was, I was very grateful.
Most of the time I forgot I was wearing anything but when I did there was a surge of relief. No one mentioned anything but I was in a peculiar mental situation – I’d just been changed by my boss and hadn’t objected; that was just plain crazy. Also, the fact that the office was on a high because we’d finished the project on time and management had been very impressed by our department and the speed we’d turned things around. The fact I’d been part of that success filled me with pride. I may have had my doubts earlier that morning but mum had been correct, wearing a nappy to the office had not hindered my work in any way.
It had been quite an unusual day and I found myself smiling at what transpired, which would make it difficult to be angry with mum when I got home.
#
The bus ride was uneventful and although I noticed the larger bulge I refrained from playing with it, I didn’t want to raise the indignation of any other passenger.
The weather had been pleasant all day and I noticed a lot of summery clad people out and about. I hated wearing a shirt and tie, always had, but dad had convinced me that when working in the environment I did, looking smart gave the correct impression.
Thankfully, the office under Mrs Dewhurst jurisdiction only insisted on smart casual but a suit was quite permissible should that be your thing. I only wore my suit for the first week after that it was much more relaxed attire. So, having spent the day in a shirt and tie and heavier than normal dark wool trousers I was looking forward to shedding the lot and slipping into my favoured t-shirt and shorts.
#
When I got home there was only Jenny in the kitchen finishing her tea.
“Where is everyone?”
“Dad’s not home yet and mum’s visiting Mrs Symanski.” She said before piling more salad on her fork.
Mrs Symanski is a pensioner who lives a few doors down from us and who mum does the shopping for.
“Oh” was my spot on comment.
“There’s tuna salad in the fridge and I can put some garlic bread on if you want to go and change.” She said helpfully.
“Mmmm, that would be great. I’m sweating like a pig in all this.”
“You do know you could undo your tie when not at work don’t you?”
This simple suggestion made me realise just how bright my fourteen year old sister actually was. It had simply not occurred to me on my sweaty journey home.
“Boys?” She said dismissing me and searching for the garlic bread in the freezer.
It didn’t click that she hadn’t said “Men?” until I got up to my room and that was only when I’d taken off my pants. Briefly I felt annoyed she hadn’t said Men but then I saw in the mirror my shiny underwear and decided I had no reason to be annoyed with her at all.
Why mum had bought these particularly revealing plastic covers I didn’t know but I just shrugged and decided it couldn’t matter less. They held the fabric together nicely and didn’t crinkle too much under my pants.
I put everything away and then checked that I was still watertight, I was. I slipped on a pair of loose white nylon P.E. shorts and a black t-shirt I used to wear for gym at school and headed back to the kitchen. By then Jenny had gone but set out on the table was my salad and a large slice of garlic bread, which was something I really liked. She’d also poured a glass of juice and cleared her own stuff away.
#
As I ate I felt quite comfortable sat in the still dry thickness of the nappy Mrs Dewhurst had put me in. The bulge in the shorts was quite pronounced but, as I had no plans on visiting anyone was happy how I was for the rest of the evening. The slippery glassy cover could be made out under the shorts but I was just pleased to be released from the restrictions of office clothes.
I saw Jenny out in the back garden under a parasol enjoying the early evening sunshine. It was still quite lovely so picked up my plate and drink and headed to the small table outside to take my meal al fresco.
She’s four years my junior and now almost as tall as me but the difference between us is considerable. Jenny has always had a thing about fashion and looking good, and, even as a schoolgirl exudes sophistication and confidence. Laying in the sun now she looked terrific, like she was posing for the cover of one of her fashion magazines. Here I was, dressed in my old school P.E. outfit, more or less the complete opposite of style. She didn’t mind, in fact, she’d never been one to criticise me or my ‘problems’.
As I shovelled in a forkful of lettuce and tuna I saw she had her eyes closed and even the way she was laid out had a touch of finesse. My younger sister was destined, especially as she had brains as well, for an unbelievable future… or so the family anticipated.
It seemed that from being a twelve year old flat chested schoolgirl to the now pert-busted young lady had been a natural development that had passed me by. She looked stunning and I’d heard there were already a number of seniors flocking around in the hope of becoming her boyfriend.
#
When she was three and we were camping and sharing the same tent compartment, not only did she not wake up during the storm she never said a thing when we both ended up being put into nappies. Now I think about it her seven year old brother was wearing protection for longer than she was.
Then, throughout my history of suddenly needing protection, she’d never once thrown that fact in my face, used it as ammunition or tried to belittle me because of it. She’d always seemed to understand. Over the years she’s seen me at various ages suddenly wearing a nappy but like mum and dad, just accepted the fact and realised it didn’t need a comment.
I should also say that it was her encouragement that got me the job I’m in now. Two years ago, mum, Jenny and I were on a shopping excursion in town. It was the school summer holidays but mum wanted us to look for clothes for the new term. She’d gone off to pay some bills or something and to prevent us getting bored the two of us ended up at Burger King for a milkshake.
I have to admit that both my parents thought I should pursue more academic studies but I’d told Jenny in confidence that I was, despite not being a complete dummy, hating school more and more each day. She said that I should look for work to see what was on offer.
“If it involves computers and,” she said with a grin, “not too physical, go for it.”
I took her advice and within four weeks I’d found the trainee job where I am now and I’d never been happier. Had it been left to mum and dad, I’d be still in school and resenting every minute. Although not completely on board with my decision they saw I was determined and when I secured the position couldn’t really insist anymore.
However, there was a drawback, I suddenly started wetting the bed which I presumed was the anxiety after the interview though before I started work. That’s when mum bought me pull-ups to sleep in and hopefully keep the wetting under some control because during the day I was fine but at night… no chance. Once I started work my sixteen year old anxiety levels increased and so did the amount I seemed to pee so for a couple of weeks my night-ware had a thick nappy with plastic pants as its base. Thankfully though… no daytime wetting.
#
I wasn’t sure why the memories were so strong but all the times I’d been put back into pull-ups or nappies came flooding into my mind. When I thought even more on the subject it was apparent that Jenny had grown up over the years whilst I had, apart from getting a job, stayed more or less the same; same physique, same choice of clothes, same enjoyment of stupid, silly computer games. To say my development was stunted (I hardly had any body hair) and the fact my penis hadn’t advanced the same way as Jenny’s breasts had flourished made me wonder why. However, just a quick look down at the thick fabric bulge under my shorts surely explained everything. I was still locked in some sort of childhood battle with thunder and lightning… and the elements were winning.
The End of An Old Problem – Chapter Four.
If you want to read more stories about ABDL boys you can find a list here: Diaper Boys – Index
The story originally came from: https://www.dailydiapers.com/content/stories.html