An Old Problem – Chapter Sixteen
What could have been a strange and uncomfortable day because of my own ‘fashion folly’ ended up to being quite pleasant. After a while the cheery comments ceased and, like the fact I wore nappies, was just taken on board ‘that’s Anthony’. Of course, I hadn’t planned on wearing this get-up to the office again but the fact it caused no major ripples was just another factor that made me glad of the place I worked.
Even as the office junior I wasn’t put upon to make the tea or be expected to be at everyone else’s beck and call… it was never like that… I was treated fairly and involved in everything as an equal. I have to tell you, as a sixteen year old and having that kind of respect was very gratifying. It also helped me get out of night time nappies and back into my sleep shorts and briefs fairly quickly… the initial anxiety of a new job disappearing.
Thankfully, we have a cross-section of sexes, ages, religions, British and foreign nationals here at the office… quite a mini United Nations. I think that’s what pleases me most that in such a diverse and tiny space, we all get along. When I joined I was (and still am) the youngest member of staff. I was nervous and unsure of myself but, as I said, Mrs Dewhurst took me under her wing and I was happily surprised that she’d built such a varied and friendly team around her.
I think Deidre is perhaps the only one who I thought might be a problem, with her gloomy take on certain situations. However, no matter how gloomy her predictions, she was as friendly as everyone else and we laughed a great deal. Of course, recently, they’ve had to contend with finding out about my wetting problem and, surprise-surprise, they didn’t seem to be anything other than supportive. I’m not sure I would have found that in any other company, certainly at school such a reputation would have meant a great deal of misery.
The embarrassment of those stupid rhymes, now that they had signalled my need for nappies, appeared to have no relevance to anything anymore. How something I’d unintentionally done had paved the way to the office understanding my situation I’ll never know. How the hell does a subconscious act like that anyway?
The absurdities just kept piling up but appeared to be to my benefit as there was no backlash at all – well, apart from the constant leaking.
In fact, yesterday Deidre quietly promised to bring in something to cheer me up. Not that I needed cheering up but she was so excited about it that I smiled at her obvious enthusiasm. She didn’t say what and I’d forgotten about it until lunchtime when unfortunately I realised I was wet. A look at the schedule showed that it was Greta’s and Sophie’s turn to take charge of my change but Sophie had gone for an early lunch so Deidre asked if she could help.
Yes, I know, I’ve accepted being changed at some point by the entire team very easily. Their rota should have been an anathema to an eighteen year-old but I wear a nappy and at the moment I have no control when I wet it.
I don’t like to wear a wet nappy for long.
However, as I’ve said on other occasions, I also dislike confrontation and would rather die than get into any kind of dispute. If I did (and I do) have some doubts, I smother them down and go along with the popular vote. On this occasion, the team want to get involved so a couple of minutes of me feeling vulnerable is better than carrying around the guilt of causing an argument and changing the congenial ambiance of the place. I’d simply worry about it, which would cause me to get more anxious and in the end be in a much worse state.
There is something else, and this only occurred to me as I got up from my desk, I trusted them all. I’ve been employed for two years and I’ve never once heard a snide remark or malicious gossip. There are plenty of opinions and comments that fly around but none I remember being aimed at anyone to be particularly spiteful.
Again I made my way to the office, this time not led like a toddler, and Mrs Dewhurst made way for the two women to set to the task. Of course I’d already been changed by Deidre but this was all new to Greta and I wondered how she’d cope with a guy my age needing a soggy nappy change.
Greta’s father is German and her mother is Estonian but she desperately wanted to come to Britain to work, learn the language and settle here. She’s almost thirty and has been here for eight years, I just hoped changing an eighteen year-old’s nappy wasn’t going to shake her faith in this country.
However, she, like the rest, had volunteered their services and couldn’t have been nicer and more attentive. Deidre, her assistant, had brought her own contribution to the event, a large but colourful disposable with cute cartoon animals all over it.
“I thought this might be a nice change…” She beamed as she emphasised the last word, proud of its double meaning.
She didn’t say where she got it from or how she became its owner but once fluffed out the two women both agreed that it was just what I needed as it was quite thick and should do the job just as well as my fabric nappy. It wasn’t as cumbersome as the fabric but as the ladies discussed its ‘holding’ capabilities I found myself on the side-line as they chatted about its obvious qualities throughout the cleaning and replacement procedure.
Perhaps not unsurprisingly I was a bit annoyed. I mean, were they now trying to baby me, which was something I didn’t want to happen. Causing a fuss was the last thing I wanted to do but I thought something needed to be said.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa… what’s this? I can’t wear that. I know I have to wear a nappy but…” I tried to sound as non-confrontational as possible.
“Anthony, Anthony,” Deidre sighed and looked worried. “Sorry, I just thought…”
“Look, I know this is a bizarre situation, but I wear because I have a problem I don’t wear because I want to…”
“Yes, yes, sorry but, you always seem so easy going and I thought… it might be fun for you to have, you know, something like this for a change…” (The joke wasn’t getting any better.)
Greta looked on as Deidre tried her best not to look disappointed. Deidre saw that although I wasn’t angry I wasn’t pleased with these circumstances.
“I’m sorry, I just thought it would be fun but now I see… sorry… I… er, um, um…” She looked a bit deflated. However, I didn’t think there was any malicious intent it was just me who was concerned as to where this could lead.
I mean, there I was, partly naked, in a wet nappy and had been dressed as a schoolboy so I could hardly take some kind of snooty attitude about it could I? I needed to make this right.
“No, sorry, it’s me Deidre, Greta,” I looked from one to the other. “I just don’t want anyone thinking I’m a baby. I don’t want to be a baby and I don’t want anyone to think of me that way… it’s enough having to wear a nappy.”
I was hoping they’d understand and they nodded.
However, I reached over and felt the thickness and even though I didn’t want to show it, it did feel really soft and…
“Yes,” agreed Greta, “don’t you think this looks fun? Wearing a nappy doesn’t have to be all serious does it?”
I’m not sure if this was a German or Estonian trait but she cut through my doubts as if I shouldn’t really have any. What was I complaining about? It was a nappy, it would do the job and it was nice and colourful… what was my problem?
Of course she didn’t say any of this but I got the gist from her no nonsense accent.
“No but, erm, I…” I looked from the boring, but thick, fabric nappy that was the alternative, and then at the colourful characters on the new disposable and had to agree… it looked delightful. Again I ran my hand over the soft structure and realised it had a nice plastic texture to it and wondered what it would feel like on. Would it be as nice as the Abena?
The two ladies looked on in anticipation.
“Well OK but, no more babyish stuff… I don’t want to find a baby’s bottle or dummy on my desk… this is it, OK?”
Both women beamed and nodded at my decision though wasn’t sure they were on board with it… they were just pleased to continue their job of getting me into a dry, but colourful, disposable.
Of course at first I was doubtful, I had my pride and I’m eighteen after all, but once they had it taped into place it really did feel snug and I was enjoying its cosiness. The colourful images just brought the entire thing to life and found it impossible to condemn wearing such a childlike disposable because it was obviously made for someone bigger than a toddler. Again I wondered where Deidre had come by it though my huge smile dissipating any doubts the ladies had.
Anyway, before I had chance to pull up my shorts, a couple of people peeped around the door and whistled their appreciation. I blushed furiously and yanked them up quickly but not before the word had spread and others wanted to look.
The office seeing me wearing a nappy had become ‘normal’ very quickly. So, although slightly self-conscious, I let my co-workers have a look and feel. They all seemed to like what they saw and were quite vocal in their appreciation of my new protection. Of course, there were a few ‘baby’ comments but mainly about how cute I looked and I don’t think you can take too much offence at being called cute. I know this should have been a terribly awkward moment but I was actually enjoying their delight and encouragement. Perhaps, that’s all I really want… approval… or is that too simple (obvious)?
#
The thing is – I don’t think the need for approval has never been a part of who I am – I just accept stuff. I quite like me; that’s despite sometimes wearing a nappy, despite being small for my age and looking younger than I am. Despite all that, which might get some people down, it doesn’t me because I’ve been brought up in a family that is positive, nurturing and loving. I’ve told you about mum’s virtues on several occasions but I can say the same for dad and Jenny… and I hope myself.
However, there are quite a number of things going on in my life that I can’t explain and that are more than slightly, erm, perplexing. For instance; gaps in time I don’t know about, writing silly poems when I thought I’d completed a works project, and wetting without any sense I’m doing so.
I assume it’s all connected with witnessing that lightning strike because that’s when it all started and mum has more or less inferred that since that moment I’ve changed in other, non-specific ways as well. When I think about that stormy night it’s a bit of a jumble because I know what I witnessed but afterwards… no idea what happened… apart from the huge puddle.
It seems so long ago that I used to sleep wearing just a pair of shorts or go about my day with nothing more substantial than briefs for urine protection. I can understand the wetting being brought on by the lightning making a link with my old fear and reaction to storms but the rest (shrug)?
I’ve tried to remember. I’ve tried to fill in those blank spots, to make sense of it all but the only thing that seems real… I have a leaky ‘tap’.
And there’s another thing. After Greta and Deidre changed me I was enjoying the fact that I was wearing such a juvenile looking nappy. I mean, I don’t remember ever having such a colourful disposable or nappy cover on any other occasion growing up. Oddly, it did feel different under my grey shorts, but I had no idea if this new reaction was mental or physical or I just liked the idea of something that was a bit of a novelty. It seemed that once I was wearing a nappy of any kind I was relaxed about having to do so and it didn’t worry me at all.
What did concern me was that whenever I had another appointment with Dr Ames, there would be an awful lot of stuff for her to get her teeth into.
However, on the bus home I was incredibly happy. Maybe, that might because there were no school kids to give me grief… or look menacing. The new disposable, although still feeling very comfortable against my skin, had, despite my concerns, brought a smile to my face. I found it hard to believe that so many people in the office had rallied round the way they had and was annoyed with myself for not seeing the fun side to having to wear a nappy. It had simply never occurred to me before nappies could be fun.
In the past they were there to do a job and I simply wore them without a second thought because they were very good at that job.
Unbothered by other passengers I sat in my seat and heard the soft crinkle as I moved… that’s what was bringing a smile to my face. I let my mind wander, settling on the fact that now it might be something to take the edge off of being eighteen and having to wear protection. Yes, the idea of all those little colourful animals wrapped around my bits and bobs had given a new dimension to nappy wearing.
Greta and Deidre (and maybe others) had quickly decided that fun was more important than embarrassment.
It appeared from our brief exchange that they had an attitude of – So what… you wear a nappy… so how can we make it an enjoyable experience? The answer – not take it seriously at all.
Of course, to me it wasn’t a joking matter, although, as far as I knew no one ever made a joke of it. I simply didn’t like wetting myself in public and wasn’t particularly pleased that everyone now knew that I did. However, the way these two ladies and the office in general, had gone about giving me a different perspective was quite an eye-opener.
When I thought about it some more, I don’t think I’d ever taken my ‘temporary’ incontinence all that seriously. I mean I did and I didn’t. It wasn’t a problem, it was just something that mum and dad sorted with a very simple device to stop me ruining clothes and bedding… and it worked. I knew that after a few days (or weeks) things would be back to normal… only this time it didn’t appear to be the case. The intensity and regularity of my soaked padding giving me, and I suppose mum and dad, room for doubt.
Strangely, I found myself chuckling more as I gazed out the window and wondered how many on the other side of the glass would find as much delight as I did due to wearing such an infantile looking piece of underwear. As the journey progressed I felt increasingly relaxed about being in such a situation, although, gradually became aware that I was sucking my thumb… and had that orangey taste again.
#
As I got off the bus I felt the first spot of rain. The sky had clouded over and looked strange. There was a muted yellow glow where the clouds weren’t that dense, which quickly faded and looked most threatening. I didn’t have far to get home and I noticed a few other pedestrians started to walk with purpose in anticipation. The orangey taste grew and I thought I’d ask mum if she knew why I should be experiencing such a strange oral sensation. Perhaps unsurprisingly, at the same time as I noticed that tang I underwent that familiar warming glow inside a certain colourful disposable.
Thankfully, by the time I got home the ominous weather had held off but my nappy was drenched. Even after such a short distance and almost jogging the last few yards, I had no control. Nevertheless, the feel of the soggy material as it rubbed against me privates and thighs as I moved gave me altered perceptions from what I’d had before. Maybe these juvenile looking disposables had different properties to fabric nappies and M4s.
As I walked through the front door my senses were assaulted by the smell of fresh baking, it appeared mum had spent the day at one of her favourite pastimes. When I entered the kitchen the table was loaded with cakes, buns, biscuits and pies, the oven was still cooking something and I guessed that was tonight’s meal.
“We’re having a slow cooked, Mary Berry inspired, lamb Ratatouille for tea but, your dad won’t be home until 7.30 and I want us all to eat together… can you last until then?”
Mum had delivered all this as she stirred something in a pan on the cooker but when she turned round she raised her eyebrows in disbelief.
“Good grief, you took me back ten years and your first day at junior school.” Her surprise faded and she smiled. “You look so damn cute but not an image I thought you’d like…”
I shrugged.
“These shorts hid everything better than anything else and as it took me so long to decide, I just threw everything else on and didn’t realise the ‘look’ I’d created.”
“Well sweetheart, you look perfect to me,” she came over and kissed my forehead and stoked my padded bottom. “Mmmm, I think someone needs a change.”
“Yes I do but…”
“Let’s get you sorted.” She turned off the cooker rings and was about to follow upstairs when the phone rang. “I’ll be up in a minute pet… just get things ready eh?”
#
I’d taken off my hoodie but stood looking at myself in the mirror. There was no doubt I was dressed like a school kid and at that moment, knowing I was wearing a wet childish nappy, I wasn’t in the least bit worried about that fact. I looked the part and I wasn’t embarrassed about it. As I did a little wriggle a satisfying surge of happiness and pleasure engulfed my body. I know I’ve been having a load of strange and disturbing ‘moments’ recently but this wasn’t one of them – this was incredibly pleasing.
The problem was, only last Sunday I had the complete belief that I was in control of my bladder. I was filled with the desire to prove to everyone I could handle what needed to be handled. My confidence was high, my emotions were high and I was convinced the throbbing fervour running through my body meant I was invincible… and look how that turned out.
I just hoped this feeling of euphoria wasn’t just an omen to crapping myself… again.
Still mesmerised by my reflection my mind filled with all this ‘stuff’ when mum came in.
“That was Doctor Ames’s office – she’s booked you in for the last session on Friday at 6pm. I told her you’d probably have finished work by then… was that OK?”
I was only half listening and answered with a “Hhhhuuummm, yer…” I was sure the way I was feeling now was somehow different from anything I’d experienced before.
Mum noticed my disconnection and asked if there was anything wrong. She stood behind me and we looked at our reflections together.
“Sometimes,” I said wistfully, “I look in the mirror and I just don’t appear to have grown up.”
Mum said nothing just put her hand on my shoulder as she listened.
“The other day I noticed that Jenny is taller than me and looks like an adult whilst I…”
“I suppose this outfit does make you look younger but it’s bound to… the shorts you’ve had for ages.”
I know mum was trying to stop me from dwelling too deeply on what I thought were my physical flaws by a little distraction but to me the comment just emphasised my point.
“Yes but they didn’t fit then… they were baggy… but now, when I wear padding underneath, they fit perfectly and hide everything… I mean… it’s as if they were made for me to wear a nappy.”
Mum could see my confusion.
“I’m not complaining mum I’m really not… but… but… something else happened today and it made me feel… different… no… made me feel brilliant. In fact, as good as I felt spending time with you at the coast.”
She smiled and murmured how much she’d enjoyed our trip as well but I needed to tell her more. I wasn’t sure how to make my next move. Here I was, sort of being concerned about not growing up and I then had to show her something juvenile that I enjoyed. So, I took a deep breath and released the catch on my shorts, pulled down the zip and let them fall to the floor. I saw a weird reaction cross mum’s face.
I wasn’t sure what it meant but I needed to fill even that brief moment of silence with something… so I started.
“One of the ladies in the office brought these in…. she thought they would ‘cheer me up’. That was her reason. Not to baby me but to ‘cheer me up’ and have fun. She said that if I have to wear a nappy, why not make it a fun thing to do.”
I saw mum lost for words but I carried on.
“Wearing protection has never bothered me, I’ve had to do it on and off for so long but I’d never thought of it as ‘fun’ before. And today, once this colourful thing was taped into place… that was my only thought. This WAS fun… but I couldn’t explain why.”
Unfortunately, the reflection was giving me no answers but now, wearing just my childish disposable, I felt like a toddler… an eighteen year-old toddler… a working eighteen year-old toddler. No wonder I was feeling confused but surprisingly… fortunate.
Mum seemed to have quickly got over her shock and simply patted the wet padding.
“Oh sweetheart… you are quite a complex bo… erm… character. You’ve been through quite a lot over the past few weeks and I’m sure you’ll have a lot to tell the doctor. However, I don’t see it as a problem if it’s something you like…”
The reflection in the mirror was of an obviously concerned but supportive mother and her confused little boy with shorts around his ankles and a soggy, but cheerful, disposable sagging at his crotch.
#
As I stripped down, and whilst mum was getting replacements ready, I asked if she had any idea why I was getting the taste of orange just before I wet.
She looked at me as if to say what an odd question, but was also considering it.
I mentioned that the first time Mrs Dewhurst had changed me, thanks to the box of Roses mum had brought in as a thank you gift, I’d sucked on an orangey chocolate and since then kept getting that taste whenever I wet or thought about nappies… though often didn’t realise I was thinking about either of them.
She wasn’t sure but did in due course remember all those years ago, when I was three and been scared by the storm at the French camp site, and with thunder crashing around us, I drank from juice box, an orange juice box, which she hoped would help calm me down.
“Your scared eyes darted everywhere as the crashing continued around us but you sucked hungrily on that juice… though not sure it helped distract you much.”
My mind was ticking over with this new information but I couldn’t formulate any answer or any other question, anyway she continued.
“It was the only drink we had because everything else was packed away for an early departure.” She shrugged. “It kept you quiet until you finished then the tears started again and, as we’d dispensed with a dummy by then so your little thumb was an immediate substitute.”
She frowned as if actually remembering that moment in full and let out a thoughtful ‘hhhmmmm’ like something had clicked in her memory.
She’d never spoken about the orange juice before only that sucking my thumb had ultimately helped to get me off to sleep. So now I wasn’t sure if this was a trigger of some kind because I have always favoured orange flavoured drinks (and chocolate) over any other. It had never occurred to me before that there might be a reason behind such a preference. Mind you, I’d never had that historical context before either.
#
I lay out naked as mum cleaned me up, wiped me down and applied some protective cream. She gave me the choice of Abena or fabric and I asked for Abena. I watched in fascination as she fluffed out and spread the disposable to get as much airy bulk into the clever absorbent (but plain) structure as possible before adding an extra soaker pad then fastening it securely around me.
Even now, with everything that’s happened, mum was still committed to making sure that no matter which nappy was decided on it should fit snugly and be the best she could make it. That kind of devotion had been there for as long as I can remember and not only was I grateful for it, I realised that at whatever age I was, as long as I needed to wear protection, I certainly didn’t want it to stop.
“OK, you choose which pants you want, while I dispose of this.” She held up the soggy, though still colourful disposable I’d just been wearing. “I have to admit these are damned cute… I wonder where she got them from.”
I nearly said not to bother getting me any but I had enjoyed wearing them and thought if I didn’t say anything, I couldn’t be accused of being childish. Not sure if I was kidding anyone but in the end said a soft but appreciative “Thanks mum.”
The extra padding meant that I toddled over to the drawer where I decided on a clear plastic pair of pants. I don’t know why because I had some coloured ones but nothing matched the ‘fun’ little cartoon characters that had featured so prominently on Deidre’s disposable. I’d definitely want to wear clear plastic pants if I wore such a nappy again – those happy characters brought a smile to my face.
I pulled on a pair of red Adidas shorts and matching t-shirt and checked the mirror again. Despite the puffed out shiny nylon fabric the little kid had gone and a sporty looking ‘me’ had reappeared. I was quite pleased by this simple transformation – it seemed that as long as I was wearing a nappy and shorts, I felt comfortable and at ease.
The End of An Old Problem – Chapter Sixteen.
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