An Old Problem – Chapter Six
I watched the new comedian and thought he was very funny. A young guy from Scotland, gay and whose accent took some getting used to but his observations were spot on. However, by 10.30 I could feel my early morning catching up and decided bed was probably the best course of action.
Even though I’d been sporting my newer nappy all night, and it had more or less been on view, I hadn’t felt that it was much different from anything else I’d worn in the past. It was strange because everything seemed normal but it obviously wasn’t and I couldn’t put my finger on the reason… apart from someone my age wearing such robust protection. Maybe wearing a nappy was becoming second nature.
I waddled upstairs, opened the window a bit further to let in some air as it was still relatively warm, and removed the satin boxers. As I checked myself and found everything relatively dry I looked in the mirror one last time and decided I’d worry about which trousers I should wear to hide the bulk in the morning.
I was engulfed with fatigue and lay out on top of the bed as it was too warm to get under cover. There were a few animal noises outside that I couldn’t identify and gave up trying fairly quickly as sleep took care of everything.
I’d like to say my dreams were filled with pleasant scenes of fun and frolics but in truth, the only thing I can actually remember was the taste of orange and the feeling I’d joined Homer Simpson in one of his fantasies about chocolate. Too much telly I suppose?
#
I woke up with mum shaking me and saying to get up or I’d be late. Strangely, I was just coming around from the dream about sucking some chocolate but found I had my thumb in my mouth. It was all moist and drippy and I wondered how long I’d been slurping on that. The soaked pillow showed I’d been drooling for quite some time. Yuk.
There were times when wet nappies, thumb sucking and going off to work just didn’t feel right or normal. Then that moment would pass and nothing could have been more natural. In fact, the more I thought about it, quite a lot of what was happening was surreal and I wondered if it was actually happening to me? Like an out of body experience.
I think I was still in the same position I’d fallen asleep but of course soaked. The newer, thicker nappy seemed to have done its work and the more substantial plastic pants had done theirs… so… just me to sort out… as normal.
Mum pulled back the curtains and encouraged me to get up.
“Jenny’s already gone to school, an early project she wanted to complete, dad’s gone to an early meeting so, guess what, just you and me for breakfast and the bathroom is all yours.”
She pointed towards the bathroom as a little indication to get a move on but I looked at my clock and it wasn’t that late, I had plenty of time.
“Move it.” Mum could see I was debating whether to take a few extra minutes to recoup but she came over to inspect the new, but soaked, nappy.
“How’s this done?” She patted the front padding. “Hmmm, seems OK no problems sleeping by the looks of things…” she smiled, “I think these purple plastic pants are more cheerful than any PJs you’ve had in the past. Yes, highly recommended.”
She was having fun and I knew she wouldn’t stop until I’d entered the bathroom and taken a shower.
“OK, OK, I can take a hint… jeez can’t a chap…” Actually there was nowhere to go with that conversation as mum started to sort out my clothes for work.
“I can do that.” I said in annoyance.
“You could but you haven’t, so why not shower and then I can get you properly ready for the day ahead. Remember, we’re trying something more substantial this time and we need to find out what’s best to discretely hide the protection.”
There seemed nothing wrong with mum sorting out my clothing and getting me ready for work. She always did that when I was at school, so toddled off to the bathroom and left her to find the correct combination.
#
The ‘nappy bin’ had reappeared in the bathroom so that’s where I deposited my overnight things. Mum would have them in the washer and out on the line before I left for work that’s for sure. The return of the nappy bin also meant they expected this to last so I needed somewhere to dump the used nappies on a regular basis.
I took a quick trip to the toilet then had a thorough shower and, in less than ten minutes, arrived back in the bedroom still drying my hair. In that short space of time mum had got everything ready.
“OK let’s get your nappy on first and then you can try on some of these.” She’d laid out nearly all my different trousers and even some of my smarter ‘dress shorts’, as mum liked to call them.
“As much as I would like to mum… I’m sure the wearing of shorts is not something anyone approves of.”
“Really?” She seemed surprised.
“Well, over the two years I’ve been there I’ve never seen anyone wear them except maintenance or delivery men.”
“OK, well, we’ll give them a miss… it’s a shame because they would work really well and hide everything. Still…”
A nappy was prepared waiting for me to lie out so I did. Mum took time rubbing in the cream and sprinkling a little powder around before she pulled and pinned the new nappy into place. Another pair of purple plastic pants was wriggled up my legs then she helped me up before squeezing the excess air out from the balloon like structure.
I had a sudden thought that perhaps I was enjoying this pampering more than I should but that guilt soon passed to being in a lovely comfort zone. That’s the thing, I’m more than comfortable having mum change me… it keeps our relationship close.
We tried several pairs of trousers but the one that seemed to work best I didn’t think was smart enough for work – a green canvas style material I didn’t think were as stylish as the shorts. Very loose, made for lounging around rather than for anything important but I had to admit they hid everything so much better than any of my other pants.
Mum then twinned them with a nice tight-fitting purple and green polo shirt (if I’d worn the shorts she recommended I could have passed as one of Wimbledon’s ball boys) thankfully, the ensemble didn’t look too shabby.
“Well I think your nice green cotton shorts would have worked better but you look fine. I should have thought and bought you some new pants whilst in town yesterday. Perhaps you can nip out in your lunchbreak and find something?”
I hate shopping. Not like mum or Jenny who both love it. If it was left to me I’d wear the same things all the time. In fact, shorts and t-shirt, with an occasional hoodie thrown in is all I feel I ever need. If it wasn’t for mum and aunties seeing something they think will ‘suit’ me I’m sure I’d still be wearing my old school uniform.
In fact, I was sure I still had it in my wardrobe.
However, the comforting bulge under my canvas pants was hidden and I felt able to go to work and not worry about anyone noticing.
#
The weather proved to be hottest week of the year so far and I had to admit that wearing a nappy with plastic pants made me sweat quite a lot. However, the fabric soaked it all up and apart from an occasional ride up in the folds I managed to cope. Most of the week I managed to get to the toilet before I peed myself, so, in the end only needed Mrs Dewhurst’s involvement on one occasion.
I got regular internal emails on my computer asking if I needed a change. To be honest she asked me a couple of times a day but on this one occasion I was soaked and didn’t remember doing so. In fact, I’d only been to the toilet a few minutes earlier before it happened. I guess this’s why mum insists I wear a nappy… it takes away the risk.
I sent the simple response YES and she told me to wait ten minute, whilst she closed her office blinds and then she’d call me in. I was shaking again but didn’t know if it was from being in Mrs Dewhurst proximity or the fact I’d wet some more.
This system worked well and I don’t think we aroused any suspicion when she asked if I could give her a hand with something in her office. Once there she locked the door and I could see everything laid out ready. I was a bit disappointed because there was no box of Roses anywhere to be seen. The problem I had was that I could taste the orange delight already and knew that I’d need something to distract me if she was going to be using a couple of wipes down below.
I know, I know, wanting a treat was very childish and there were times I did feel like a kid when in her office. The other thing I’d noticed, though tried to ignore, was I became totally compliant in her presence.
She smiled as I looked apprehensive.
“First, I’ve approved your request for Monday off… “
“Thanks, mum wants us to have some time at the coast.”
“Sounds nice,” she saw me still looking a little unsure. “Don’t worry I’ve been practicing on Julie my daughter so I’ve got it down to a fine art.”
I nodded and loosened my canvas pants.
“These aren’t what you usually wear,” she observed.
I grimaced because I knew they weren’t really smart enough.
“No, sorry, but because the padding is thicker I needed something that, you know, didn’t call attention in the office… I don’t want people to know that I’m wetting my pants at my age.”
“No, I understand and that’s sensible.”
“Mum thinks my dress shorts…” I was making small talk as she got on with pulling my pants and plastic pants off (she did go “Ooh nice” when she saw the purple) and unpinned the soaked nappy.
“Don’t you like wearing shorts then?” She wiped away and I took a deep breath as its cool wetness surrounded my naked pubic area.
“Actually I prefer them to trousers,” I said finding my voice “and would wear them all the time if it was allowed.”
“Well, who said it wasn’t?” She’d already had me lift up so she could run the fresh fabric under my bum.
“Erm, well, um, I’ve never seen anyone else in the office wear them so I assumed it, erm…”
The thing is… I always prefer to wear shorts because I think they suit me better. I feel it’s the real me and I’m not pretending to be someone I’m not. Mum and dad are used to seeing me wearing them around the house and I think mum is of the opinion they suit me best as well. She always says I look smart when we go anywhere… and has done ever since I was little.
“You’re a young man,” Mrs Dewhurst continued, rubbing in some anti-rash cream, “so I can’t see why not, especially as the weather is so hot. As long as they aren’t gaudy coloured board shorts or swimwear… I can’t see any problem”
“But none of the others do.” I mentioned as she sprinkled powder.
“To be honest there are those who I’d prefer not to see in shorts but you’re youthful and shouldn’t worry. I’m happy if you, or anyone else who want to wear them to the office for that matter, to do so. Especially if you think they would hide the padding better.” She pulled up a pair of see-thru pants and then told me to retrieve my canvas joggers. “It’s up to you but there’s no rule saying you can’t.”
Well, that was interesting. Changed and being told shorts were fine. I think, with the weather how it was, shorts would be a lot better idea and maybe some air could get up my pant leg and keep me from over-heating there.
I smiled my thanks as I left her office and she called a “Thank you for your help” for the rest of the office to hear.
No one looked up or batted an eyelid.
#
For the next few of days I wore shorts to work and although there were a couple of remarks from older colleagues (shouldn’t I be in school) no one was nasty and when other young members of staff followed my lead that was an end to any comments. Anyway, we’d got the seal of approval from the supervisor so there was no argument. I think we all felt better for air getting to our legs and I had to agree with mum again, shorts were a lot smarter than the canvas pants.
In fact, though I was still wearing a nappy the tight cotton of the shorts seemed to hold everything in place so the bulge wasn’t that noticeable. The legs came to about three inches above my knees so no plastic could venture into view and the firmness gave me so much confidence I wasn’t worried about wearing protection at all.
To be honest I was in my element and, though I’m not sure why, each day seemed to just zoom by. In fact, both mum and Mrs Dewhurst said the same thing; contrary to what some might have expected, I appeared so much happier.
#
By Friday I was so confident about my control in not filling a nappy I suggested to mum that for our drive to the coast with Mrs Symanski I wear normal underwear.
“Are you sure, I mean she already knows about your problem so you wouldn’t be…”
“No, no, it’s not that,” Actually it was that and was shocked someone else knew about my old problem. “I just think I’ve got a handle on it and know when to… you know… anticipate things.”
Despite what I said I wasn’t that confident as when I started my request and that was down to the fact that I was more than a bit annoyed mum had shared my ‘secret’ with our old neighbour.
“Mum, how does Mrs Symanski know about…?”
“I’m sorry love but we’ve been neighbours since you were born… so… don’t you think she’s seen you at your best and… wettest over that time. And, if I’m honest, she’s been a fantastic source of knowledge for most of that time.”
“But mummm…” Yes I know that childish whine again.
She shrugged as if to say it’s wasn’t the biggest secret in the world and shouldn’t matter that much.
“Look, if you’re sure you don’t want a nappy, although I think you’re making a mistake, then of course it’s up to you. However, I’ll be bringing something with me because, although the nice weather is predicted to continue, there may be sudden storms brewing so I’ll not take any chances.” She smiled but I knew she meant it.
#
Friday night, and hoping to prove a point, I slept in my clean Adidas shorts without a nappy underneath. Both my parents had tried to convince me that it was too early but I was determined to break the control my bladder had over me.
I woke up in the morning and nervously felt the front of my shorts… they were a little damp. I checked and it looked like I’d done a small pee. I felt stupid but didn’t want to admit it. I got up, washed my shorts through so to all intents and purposes, nothing had happened. I showered and got ready wearing white briefs and my new favourite uniform of dress shorts and polo shirt. I chose pale blue, mid-length shorts and a green and blue paisley short-sleeved shirt… I looked the dog’s bollocks.
At breakfast I said nothing about my little spurt and as mum had loaded the car pretty soon we were on our way to pick up our talkative neighbour. It was a beautiful sunny Saturday and I just hoped that not everyone else would be heading to the coast otherwise it would be an even longer journey in the company of Mrs Symanski.
She was waiting at her door with a large wheelie suitcase and looking like she’d dressed for a summer pageant – a flowery dress, large sun hat and a huge handbag which I suspect could hold as much as her suitcase.
Anyway, I volunteered to take control of her suitcase and rolled it to the boot and slid it in between our more conservative packing. Before I could claim my front passenger seat back she’d climbed in so I was left with the back seat all to myself. Well, not quite, as I was now sharing it with Mrs Symanski large hat. She kept her ginormous bag on her knee.
“My Anthony you do look smart… very summery.” She beamed her toothy smile, “and Mary, you look lovely as well.”
“That’s a lovely dress you’re wearing…” Mum countered and, as we set off that was the subject of conversation for the next half hour. Where she was when she saw it. How she wasn’t sure about it and went back a couple of times before deciding to buy it… and a host of other pretty boring things related to how often she’s worn it, the choice of wearing it today and the fact she thought it made her look younger. How mum could keep any trace of interest in her voice I’ll never know.
#
Despite her constant forensic review and inclusion of every minor detail, I took the opportunity to nod a little bit, so the two hour drive fairly flew by and we were soon off the A-roads and onto the country lanes that led to Mrs Symanski sister’s cottage near the coast. Unfortunately, as sometimes happens on such roads, a farmer was herding his cows from one field to another and that held up the traffic. I could also feel I urgently needed the toilet but, as we hadn’t stopped, merely drove slowly on. I couldn’t get out and… too late.
Although I knew I needed to go, which was an improvement to when I had no idea I’d wet at work, when the flood broke, I had no control.
I closed my eyes and unprepared, my bladder exploded in my pale blue shorts drenching them and my briefs. When I opened my eyes I saw Mrs Symanski looking at me and watching the wet stain quickly covering the front changing from pale to dark blue.
“Mary, I thought you said he was back in nappies.”
That comment didn’t help but I was in no position to complain.
“No, he says he has control now so doesn’t need…”
“Well I think you’d better pull over because he’s pissed his pants pretty badly.”
I could have done without her pithy observation but she wasn’t wrong.
“Oh… just a minute Anthony whilst I find somewhere to pull in.”
Mrs Symanski kept her eyes on me the whole time as I fidgeted in shame on the back seat.
“Mind my hat.” Was the only other thing she said until we were past the herd that sauntered into a field and we joined the line of cars through to the next village. There was a car park so mum drove to the furthest corner and for the first time was able to see the damage.
“Oh Anthony, I said this might happen.” She wasn’t so much angry as resigned that she needed to change me when it could have been avoided if I’d only listened.
She got out the car and rummaged around in the boot and brought out a large pack of Abena Abri-Form Premium M4. I was surprised because mum doesn’t use disposables as a rule.
“I’ve come prepared sweetheart… I hope these will do.”
“Mum, leave it until we get to the hotel… I can wait.” I pleaded.
“Don’t be stupid Anthony,” this was Mrs Symanski, “You don’t want to be sat around in pee-soaked pants you’ll smell and then the car will smell and…”
“Yes, yes,” mum interrupted her flow, “I think we’ve got this covered thank you.”
She looked at Mrs Symanski who sniffed but said nothing else.
“Take off everything that’s wet please.”
I didn’t want to especially with Mrs Symanski sitting in the front seat. However, the alternative was being changed out in the open where any passing person could see, and didn’t fancy that, no matter how sunny the day was. I tried one last time.
“Mum I can wait… honestly.”
Mum gave me that look that meant she was not to be swayed, so reluctantly I unbuttoned my shorts and pulled them free.
“….and your undies… and the shirt it looks like the bottom has got a bit wet.”
#
So naked, on the back seat of our car I was bright red with embarrassment, feeling stupid and childish after what had just happened. Mum handed me a small hand towel and some wipes.
“Can I help love?” Mrs Symanski had changed from judging me to being her helpful self. She gazed at me and shrugged. “Don’t worry Anthony these things happen even to the best of us.”
I was only half listening but did that sound like she was admitting to wetting herself or was she just trying to be nice?
“If you can hold these.”
Mum offered the unopened package to her whilst she put my wet clothes in a plastic bag.
“Oh I’ve heard these are nice dear… thick and fluffy,” she smiled, “I wish they had them like this when my kids were babies.”
“Babies?” I wasn’t a baby… it annoyed me that she thought that… or at least said that even if she didn’t direct it at me. I wished she wasn’t here to witness this but unfortunately there was no escape as mum seemed determined to get me cleaned up with or without an audience… our neighbour wasn’t one for privacy.
Mrs Symanski’s family were all grown up now. She had three daughters and two sons. The daughters were married and living in Poland, one of her son’s had emigrated to Australia and her youngest, Stephan, worked out on the oil rigs but rarely visited his mother.
Always the master of small talk she launched into what nappies were like as she was raising her brood. Thankfully it was quite distracting as mum made sure I was dry before adding the thick gloopy mass of anti-rash cream she smoothed in. All the time Mrs Symanski kept up a litany of things she didn’t have that parents were lucky to have these days. Including such well-made disposables as were now being successfully taped into place around my groin and the new shiny purple plastic pants which she thought were ‘adorable’.
I have to admit that the disposable was so much quicker and mum had everything done in super quick time.
She eventually slammed the car boot closed and, as if making a point, didn’t hand me any shorts to cover myself up. I thought it was her way of making sure I knew in future not to go against her advice. The rest of the trip I sat in a thick nappy and ‘adorable’ plastic pants whilst Mrs Symanski went on about the last time she’d visited her sister and the rows they had.
I could imagine it, especially if they were as talkative as each other.
Occasionally she would turn to me if she was making a point and stare at my padding and smile. I wasn’t sure what was going on in her head but I’m sure it would make another tale to tell on any future journey. I just hoped I wouldn’t be there when it happened.
Eventually we arrived at her sister’s place and they were all hugs and smiles as they embraced each other. Whilst I’d gone to get our neighbour’s case I also retrieved a pair of football shorts to quickly cover the padding. I hoped the two old ladies wouldn’t pass comment but her sister noticed and with an air of some authority asked if I was OK and did I need somewhere to change.
“No love he’s only just been changed,” she helpfully explained to her sister, “He peed his pants on the way…”
I’m sure she could have gone on for another twenty minutes but I was so embarrassed I ran to the car told mum to put her foot down and get out of this place.
“She was only being friendly.”
I said we would be there the entire weekend if we engaged in further ‘pleasant little chats’.
Mum laughed at my joke and with a final wave we were on our way to the hotel, which was about five miles further down the coast.
The End of An Old Problem – Chapter Six.
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