An Old Problem – Chapter Eleven
Dr Laura Ames continued like we’d known each other for ever. She was friendly but strangely I still felt like the nervous seven year-old I’d been the last time I saw her. We talked briefly about that time and what I’d been doing but of course she mainly wanted to know how many times I’d been affected by thunder storms since that session.
Too many to list was the true answer.
Her manner was very relaxed and only asked questions for clarification. When I looked back I found myself surprised at just how often mum had put me back into nappies when I started wetting the bed again. I also mentioned that at sixteen, when I’d got a job, I had the need for some extra night time protection “…but only for a few anxious weeks” I was at pains to explain.
For some reason I thought this was not connected to the other times and spoke at length to make sure she realised that.
The conversation went on and the time simply flew by but I became conscious that my nappy kept soaking up more and more as I dribbled into it throughout the session. It was more like I was an incontinent three year-old rather than a seven… er… I mean an eighteen year-old.
She asked me about the last thunder storm I was affected by at the weekend and as it was still fairly clear I was able to relate what mum had told me about sitting transfixed at the window and watching its progress.
“Mum said I just looked out on the horizon and, although my eyes were open, I seemed oblivious of anything around me.
“Do you only remember what your mother told you?”
“Yes, I didn’t know what I’d done until I woke up and saw mum had put me in extra padding because she said I’d soaked what I usually wear at night.”
“Usually at night?”
“Hmmm, yes, well, erm, since the, ummm, I started wetting again mum’s put me back into nappies at night but, more recently, I’ve had to wear them all the time as I leak.”
“OK, that’s interesting… well, we’ll come back to that… anything else?”
“She did say I was making little crying noises and sucking my thumb.”
“Do you normally suck your thumb when a storm comes?”
“Well, apparently, the last couple of times mum’s seen me I have… but I can’t say I’ve never done it before, I just don’t have any recollection of doing so… apart from when I was three.”
I guiltily laughed at the memory of sucking my thumb that very first time because mum didn’t have a dummy as she comforted me throughout the storm.”
“Do you remember if you did it or did your mother encourage you…?”
“No, I was three, I just remember being scared of the thunder and everything else I’ve just assumed or what I think mum’s said rather than what I remember. So, I don’t know… I just think my thumb soothed my panic. Oh!”
For the first time I’d made a link and one that the doctor had expertly led me to… I was still behaving like a frightened little three year old.
“And when you were three who saw to your wet pyjamas?”
“Mum.” I answered ruefully.
“Did mum make it better?” She said softly looking into my eyes which were welling up.
“Yes, she cleaned me up and held me throughout all the terrifying noise until I fell asleep.”
“Do you think that’s what’s happening now…?”
“I, I don’t know. I mean, I’m eighteen I shouldn’t need…”
“Should or shouldn’t doesn’t come into it…”
“But,” I said positively, “there have been other storms around and I’ve not needed, er, wanted, erm, um… thought about that.”
We paused a moment as I thought about the situation and I could feel my soggy nappy getting cool and not nice to wear.
“OK, so why do you think you now have a thumb in your mouth?”
I pulled my thumb away in horror but a string of drool was still attached. I hadn’t even realised what I was doing. I felt like a silly little kid but she didn’t appear worried so moved on. I recognised that orangey taste again but didn’t know why.
“Perhaps the lightning strike you witnessed has in some way made you recall what took place when you were three and that first experience of a scary storm.”
“But why would that happen? I mean, I work, I function, I’m an adult…”
“But still you’re wetting yourself and don’t know you’re doing so…”
She rested a hand on my arm to let me know she understood.
“There’s no reason why you can’t function as normal except that, as happened in the past, your brain currently isn’t sending any adult messages to control your bladder.”
This didn’t seem new news but hearing her say it out loud made it appear more definite and true. But why?
#
“But why?” I cried and could feel my eyes filling up.
“That’s what we need to find out.” She looked at her watch, “But that will have to be another session as we’ve run out of time. Make another appointment at your convenience with the receptionist. Meanwhile, are you wet now?”
Laden with guilt and shame I nodded.
“We have disposables if you would like to change in the bathroom.”
I was embarrassed and tearful, which was silly after all that we’d been talking about but the nappy was very uncomfortable.
She led me to the rather large private bathroom at the side of her office and, I don’t know where it came from, gave me a Tena pull-up.
“Do you think that will do until you get home?”
I nodded and besides, I had plastic pants so that should stop any leakage.
I pulled down my shorts and saw the bloated nappy under its glass-like cover. It seemed to take me ages to wrestle with the pins before I was able to release the heavy saturated bundle from my crotch. I threw it in the sink and pulled some paper towels from the holder and wiped myself dry. I looked in the mirror at my dark sobbing eyes and thought I still looked more like a badly aged three year old than my real age.
Once clean it took me a little while to get round to pulling the pull-up up. Laura Ames asked if I was OK or did I need some help. At that moment I was a little shaky and uncoordinated so would have loved some help and for a grown-up to take charge. It was then I realised what all this was about. It had taken speaking to a psychiatrist for me to see things, obvious things, a little clearer.
I slipped the plastic cover over the Tena and pulled up my shorts, splashed my face with cold water and thanked the doctor as I headed home, wet nappy in my backpack. However, there was another realisation lurking at the back of my mind and I wanted to sort that out before I saw the doctor again.
#
All the way home on the bus I kept thinking how all this wetting was obvious. The storms somehow make me regress to that very first time. But is that true? I mean, it may happen now but over the years there have been many storms and I’ve not resorted to sucking my thumb or mewling like a baby… haven’t I?
I know I’ve not told mum or dad every time I’d had an accident in my pants because it wasn’t always that obvious. So there were times when I kept quiet and simply slid the offending stained undies into the laundry. What I couldn’t pretend didn’t happen was the fact that I still had mum change me once I’m wet. It had never really occurred to me until the doctor pointed it out. I needed my mummy like I had when three years old… and over the years, that hadn’t changed.
I examined myself on the bus and did a quick inventory; lack of stature and body hair, small penis, prefer shorts and still wearing a nappy. Yep, that sounds like a little kid. I hadn’t developed since I was a small boy, I still am a small boy… then how the hell did I get a job? That’s the difficult thing to rationalise… or was there no connection… they were two different parts of my character?
I mean, would I have gone for it without the encouragement of my sister?
Doh, probably not.
When I thought about it, even though I’m the older brother, I’ve always acceded to Jenny. She’s always been my best playmate, best friend and apart from mum and dad, the one person of whom I still take most notice.
I mean, my job has a woman in charge and that woman is now changing me when I wet. I didn’t know exactly what mum and Mrs Dewhurst talked about, all I know was that it ended up with her agreeing to change me if I wet in the office. How easily I’d slipped into that comfort zone but then why had she so easily agreed to it… surely we can’t all have some kind of ‘mummy complex’? Oh, this was annoying. The more I thought about it the more stupid and unreal the situation seemed and yet… here I was.
#
The journey home wasn’t long enough for me to sort my ‘old problem’ out but the more I thought about it the more I realised just how long I’d relied on nappies to help me over those periods of anxiety, which is what I put my incontinence down to.
Once back I called out a “Hello” to anyone who was around but I only got a muted response from Jenny who was on the phone to her friends. Mum and dad weren’t home yet so made my way to my bedroom and stripped down to my Tena, which I could tell under the glassy cover was still dry. This was something I couldn’t explain as I’d been pissing myself almost nonstop in the doctor’s office.
Of course I’m used to seeing myself dressed in such a way but I was trying to get angry about it, or at least find some negativity but I couldn’t… under the present conditions, this was what I needed. I began to think that perhaps I should wear jeans or jogging bottoms to cover it up but I’ve never found them as comfortable as an old pair of shorts. So I grabbed another pair from my Adidas collection and although they bulged out a little I thought looked fine. At home I’d never been embarrassed by being well-padded or that anyone might notice.
Jenny was still on the phone, had the TV on low volume but was still watching some programme or other. I wandered into the kitchen and saw that she’d already started getting the meal ready. I was carrying my soaked nappy that I’d changed in the doctor’s office so shoved it in with the rest of my ‘to be washed’ pile next to the machine. I grabbed a Coke from the fridge and returned to the living room to watch a bit of TV with my sister. However, she’d finished on the phone and watched as I sat down but she was quickly in.
“How did it go with Laura?” First name terms, perhaps more had gone on between our families than I realised.
“She was OK I guess, got me thinking but…”
“Wasn’t that the idea?”
“Yes, but I don’t think I’m cured.”
I could see her eyes flick down to my padding which had crept down the leg of the shorts.
“No I can see that but surely you didn’t expect to be so… ahhh,” She saw the smile on my face, “you’re having fun at my expense.”
“Yes I am,” I grinned but then got serious. “Can I tell you something…?”
She smoothed down her dress and her boobs seemed to push themselves forward as if I should be addressing them.
“Erm, as we talked about it… I just couldn’t stop peeing into the Tena. I mean, I had absolutely no control. So, by the end I was saturated.”
“So you’re saying that even talking about it sets you off?”
“Yes but, and get this, I changed at the office to a pull-up…”
“Did Laura change you?” She added with a bit of devilment.
“Good God no I… oh…. so you’re getting your own back and having a laugh at my expense.”
“Got it in one… see bro there’s nothing wrong with your sense of humour.”
“I never thought there was.”
“Well why then are you looking so fed up? Mrs Woodward my teacher says ‘If you’ve got a sense of humour, you’ve got the answer to any problem’.”
This was the first time I thought my sister sounded her age. Repeating a pleasantry her teacher had probably said in a throwaway moment in class – humour wouldn’t solve this wetting problem.
She wasn’t done. “You’ve had this problem all your life and I’ve never once seen it get you down or all that worried and yet you are now…. why?”
She made a good point but the thing was if I didn’t know when I was pissing myself, it was obviously getting worse.
“Because I think I’ve lost all control and, although a nappy copes with the outcome, it doesn’t bode well for my future if I’m still reliant on one for the rest of my life. I need to get back control. I mean, I’ve had it after storms in the past but now…”
My voice tailed off as she came up and put her arm around my shoulder.
“You’re my big brother so no matter what… I’ll still love you.” She then kissed the top of my head like mum would do and I was grateful for her kind words. However, I suddenly realised that my Tena was now soaked and I could see the expanded fabric pushing out the glassy see-thru plastic pants under my shorts.
“I just need to get back control.” I whispered forlornly more to myself than Jenny.
#
Back in my bedroom I didn’t change just waited for mum to come home. Off course, when we set off to the coast with Mrs Symanski I was convinced I could control my bladder and wouldn’t need any protection. Mum, on the other hand, came prepared and knew what I needed even if I didn’t. Thankfully, I liked the M4s and it turned out just as well because my constant leaking cock definitely needed heavy protection if I wasn’t to embarrass myself further. Mrs Symanski knowing my old problem wasn’t yet cured was more than anyone needed because I knew she’d make that into one of her long-winded anecdotes.
Mum and I had touched on this control issue whilst away, but I was at ease with how things panned out. I let things go, and so did mum, because it was just that… easy. We were enjoying the weather, the seaside and each other’s company so we concentrated on that.
As I’ve said before, mum and dad never made my ‘problem’ an issue, it was the way I was and it could be solved quickly and without ceremony or fuss by the addition of night time protection. Once that was in place, to all intents and purposes, the problem was resolved. Except, I’d now hit a different level, a more advanced level, so that conundrum needed to be sorted before it became something I couldn’t influence.
I don’t like thinking about me, it seems quite an indulgence and it’s something I’ve rarely done. I tend to just go along with things believing that others know best, or certainly better than I do. Teachers never got a squeak out of me and nor has Mrs Dewhurst except there I’m part of a team and I have put forward my ideas and been encouraged to develop them… so perhaps I’m not so reticent after all. However, that is definitely a new development on my part though doubt if they are in any way connected.
Another thing I’m a little confused by (and as you can see there are a few ‘things’) is why mum bought all those disposable Abenas. I mean, she’d been dead against disposables for a long time and yet she’s stocked up on some because (she says) I said I liked them. Why then send me to a psychiatrist to help me over it all… and still have a huge supply of the things?
I suddenly thought that mum didn’t believe I could change, that I was too nerdy or fragile and I’d always need nappies. I got myself into a state believing my parents had all but given up on me and became quite annoyed and fraught.
All these different thoughts were spinning around in my head and I felt quite sick and unbalanced by the whole thing. I wished it would all go away but wishing wasn’t going to help. I ran my hand over the squishy fabric and experienced two sensations at the same time – disgust and comfort.
#
Doctor Ames had certainly made me address several things and I didn’t like it at all.
I was sat on my bed when mum came in.
“Anthony I… what on earth’s the matter sweetheart?” She immediately saw I was perturbed and in need of some reassurance.
“Why, why, did you buy all those disposables… don’t you think I can get control back?”
“Oh sweetie. I’m sorry if it seems that way but haven’t I always said ‘Hope for the best but prepare for the worst’?
I buried my head in her arms as she gently rocked me.
“I’m hoping against hope that Laura can help and if she can, how long it will take we don’t know. I’m not sure she can sort things out like that (and she clicked her finger). However, you seemed so happy wearing these new disposables and I thought, if you have to wear nappies for any longer I want you to be just that… happy.”
She stroked my hair then patted my spongy bum.
“I have total faith in my boy… I always have.”
She hugged me some more.
“Look if it’s upsetting you then you don’t have to see her again it’s just, well, we think you might be happier if we find a way over this… anxiety.”
“No, no mum, she’s not upsetting me but, but, I’ve never had to think like I am now and consider things I’d just sort of let slide.”
“Well,” she said pulling me up to face her, “she seems to be doing her job but, I can feel my boy needs a change so let’s get you into something dry and then I’m sure things will seem a bit clearer… or at least not as soggy.” She smiled at her weak joke and pulled off my shorts.
#
Mum has never shirked from changing my wet nappies. All through my life, when I needed a nappy there was one available and when it needed changing, she got on with the job without any fuss.
“I see you’ve got a pull-up on… is that from the doctor’s?”
I nodded.
Well let’s get that off and into something dry and then you can tell me how it went.”
She went to the dresser drawer and pulled out an Abena disposable.
“Shall we try one of these? I’m sure you’ll feel much more comfortable.”
I nodded enthusiastically…then had a thought.
“It’s OK mum, I’ll do it myself,” and held out my hand for her to pass it to me.
“Are you sure sweetie I don’t mind?” She didn’t look convinced or was she sad that I wanted to do it?
Whoa… is that it? Mum had enabled me all this time because she liked to…? No, it was a stupid thought. Why would mum want to keep me in nappies, it just didn’t make sense. However, now that thought was in my head… it was taking some shaking.
“Well, if you’re sure,” she beamed in support. “Five minutes and dinner will be ready.”
Once she’d gone I stood in my wet Tena and although knew this was something I could do, I was sad that I’d dismissed mum. She always did it with such love and care. I nearly called her back but didn’t and eventually struggled with the tapes a few time to get it to fit properly.
Whilst there was a pile of freshly laundered colourful plastic pants I wanted to ‘get back to basics’ though I wasn’t sure why. I searched for an opaque pair of plastic pants, pulled them up, looked in the mirror and it hung reasonably well. Although the padding around my bum seemed a little more puffy than usual I didn’t mind. This time I consciously dragged my jogging bottoms over it all and set off to the kitchen where Jenny had prepared our meal.
#
As we ate I brought the family up to date on my session with Laura Ames and we exchanged thoughts and areas of chat for my next visit. I told them I hadn’t as yet booked a second session but they all encouraged me to get one sorted as soon as possible ‘whilst I had momentum’.
No one said anything about my cover up but the crinkle as I moved about seemed a lot louder under my jogging pants than it ever did whilst wearing shorts. That surprised me.
After we’d eaten dad was helping Jenny with her maths homework, he’s a whiz with numbers, which I think is where I get my interest from and why, as a result, a computer is more than a games machine to me. In fact, no matter how brilliant the graphics are, or hectic the storyline is, it’s the mechanics of computing that I find more fascinating. Anyway, whilst I helped mum with the washing up it gave me chance to quiz her further about Laura.
“Mum just how well do you know Doctor Ames?”
“Quite well, why?” She carried on washing the dishes whilst I wiped them dry.
“She said she knew about my problem.”
“Well you saw her when you were seven and was a child psychologist at the hospital. We were worried then that the storms had a strange effect on you and, at the time, she helped you through your anxieties.”
“Yes, I remember all that but she seemed to be bang up to date on my more recent problems.”
“Ah yes, that will be me. You know her and husband Peter are clients of your father’s?”
“No I didn’t.”
“Well, I don’t suppose you should really but we’ve been online friends since you were her patient and because of that connection and your father’s, we chat online and on the phone occasionally.”
“Was it you or her who suggested I should make an appointment?”
“I assume it was me simply because I’d mentioned the latest development with you on our last call and she seemed interested. I was worried it might turn into something more serious because, whether you’re aware or not, you’ve never lost control of your bladder like this before.”
“Mmmm.” It was as if mum had said those magic words ‘lost control’ because I suddenly realised I was leaking into my M4. At this rate I’d be using up that supply she’d got pretty damn quickly.
“Will you be speaking with her tonight?”
“I can do if you want.”
“Erm, Um.” Without warning I was suddenly engulfed in tears. I had no idea where they had come from but suspected this was something I’d held back in the doctor’s office. Unexpectedly, my body shivered and I felt like I had no control over anything
Mum was quick to hug and hold me saying not to worry, we’d sort it all out and other comforting phrases. I believed her.
Mum spoke into my hair as she reassured me.
“I’ve said it before… and we’re all in agreement… you’re safe with us sweetheart. You don’t have to be anyone but yourself. We’ll do what we can to help so no matter how long it takes… your family will be right by your side.”
“Mummm,” I sobbed, “why have I regressed to a baby who can’t…”
“Oh darling… you’re not a baby and it doesn’t help if you think in those terms. You’re an adult who just happens to need a nappy for the moment. You’ll get better… you’re just having some problems at the moment…”
I’m sure there were another few words mum was going to add but I needed her cuddle more than I needed pleasantries.
“Thanks mum.” I squeezed her tightly.
She squeezed back and it was at that moment, stood in the middle of the kitchen, I did something I hadn’t done for years… I let out a startled stifled groan whilst filling the back of my new Abena.
The End of An Old Problem – Chapter Eleven.
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