Because we say so – Chapter Five
I’m at a strange point in my life.
I’m seventeen (well almost), I feel like I’m grown up yet my nappy says I’m not yet trusted to go to the toilet. I’m still at school and wear the uniform of a schoolboy but my body has developed and I no longer have the physique of a child.
However, I also don’t have the pubic bush that all my friends and classmates appear to have sprouted in abundance. The lotion mum has spread on me over time has stopped that particular hairy growth. To be honest I’m not overly worried by this lack of hirsuteness ‘down there’ since mum said that a clean and hair-free groin is healthier and not prone to smelling. I take her words as gospel and “because she says so”.
To be honest I have seen many naked guys online and have to admit that I prefer the shaved to the bushy and that goes for the face as well as the crotch.
There are tons of conflicting emotions that grow day by day and yet, and yet… there’s also a feeling of… I don’t know how to explain it but, well, I feel… distinctive.
Of course my parents have added to this response because of the way I’ve been treated all my life. I’m not even sure if it’s negative or positive. All I know, there are times when my body shakes with emotions I simply do not comprehend and my head is filled with thoughts I have no idea from where they came.
I’m growing up, so I’m aware my body has changed and continues to change but, but, there is definitely something going on that my brain finds difficult to compute.
It’s mixed up, perplexed, conflicting and often down right awkward, but then the next moment, I’m at peace, full of calm and unbelievably relaxed; the nappy causing me neither fear nor anger, sometimes, just utter and totally unexpected bliss.
Although I often sit around wearing just a nappy when I’m at the desk in my bedroom, I’m wearing jeans at the moment just while I work. It’s not that I’m ashamed or anything just that they are a little distracting as I continually want to run my fingers over this new, soft, tantalising fabric… but I need to get my homework done.
Even now, as I type this on the computer in my bedroom, a shiver has just run through my body. I sit; tapping away on the keyboard, dressed in the latest disposable, which I assume is from dad’s company and mum insisted I wear as soon I walked in from school.
The thing is, at the moment, it’s doing it again… my nappy is giving me pleasure and comfort as I wriggle in its snuggly embrace.
I’m beginning to realise (and not before time I suppose) that everything I wear has in some way to do with dad’s company. I’m not sure why I’m involved but I guess it’s only natural that I should somehow benefit from what they make. Still, I wish they would simply tell me rather than say “because we say so.”
Under my jeans the cushioned layers of supple, velvety material slips around caressing my skin in a provocatively sensual manner, the soft new colourful textile sends desirous messages to my brain. It’s all slightly feminine in some way and yet in others, well, it doesn’t matter except… what the hell is going on?
#
A couple of hours later and with the drinks mum served beginning to press on my bladder, the first part of what she insists I do is imminent.
I finish the homework I’m working on and move from the computer to the window and look out at the view. Nothing new, nothing has changed except, except, well, that short walk has brought me back to be fully aware of the nappy I’m wearing.
I release my jeans and let them fall unaided to the floor beforecasually slipping out of them. At the same time, watch in complete fascination, as my disposable elegantly re-inflates and returns to the size it was originally. The materials are still gripping my groin and the wispy fabric tickles as well as caresses my skin.
I watch myself in the full-length mirror, I look more colourful than usual but still like an incontinent teen. However, I’ve been given my instructions by mum so I return to look out over the back garden and concentrate as I release the pressure in my bladder.
With the first spurt of pee the flimsy structure tightens a little and secures around my genitals. I try to hold back but it’s as if the material is pressing on my bladder, encouraging me to finish what I started.
The sensation is just that, quite sensational. I stand looking out across the back lawn to the row of trees that surround the garden and it’s like I’m seeing it for the first time as my mind seems to join the flooded relief in my nappy. As I fill it, the pattern and colours change whilst the tightening bulk forces my legs apart a little. The flimsy fabric layers are now storing what I’ve just released and although I don’t feel wet, I can feel it expanding and becoming more solid.
The fragile lattice work of alternative textiles are binding together to contain what I’ve let go and suddenly, without any warning, my bowel wants to join in the experience. I stand at the window transfixed as I fill the seat of dad’s latest development and notice that the colours change again. Where I’ve messed the colour is bright purple, where I’ve wet its bright yellow but there are other discrepancies.
For one; the entire disposable is very solid and although I’m being gripped firmly, the weight is not there. However, I cannot smell anything, the contrivance has kept everything I’ve expelled well contained and that includes the stink I occasionally have to bear.
Mum knocks on my bedroom door and walks in. She sees me standing at the window, legs now slightly apart and the new nappy obviously well used.
“Well done Pumpkin.” She comes over and pushes a few stray hairs away from my eyes. “How does it feel?”
There is certainly a different aspect to what I’m wearing though, for the moment, I am not really sure what it is. It feels unlike anything I’ve ever used before, as if it has moulded itself around everything and is giving me a pleasurable squeeze… like its congratulating me for using it. I know that’s stupid but that’s what’s going through my brain as mum inspects the thing. For some stupid reason I’m delighted that I’ve just messed and peed in my nappy and don’t feel in the least bit embarrassed as mum checks me out.
She runs her hands over the bulk and its far more ‘dense’ now. The wispy material has bonded together to make a security proof seal, though the crimped filigree leg holes have given a softer edge to the tightened grip. There is a lacy, almost girlish look to the slick exterior and appears like a padded pair of panties. Even the tabs that fastened me in have blended into the surrounding fabric producing a colourful but unifying look.
Mum smiles and whistles in appreciation, I just look dumbfounded.
“Your father said it was special… what do you think?”
I walked the few steps from the window to the mirror and am speechless; the entire look of the disposable has changed to something that looks more ‘permanent.’
I just nod. It’s no longer a soft, wispy concoction but something real and substantial.
“Judging by the colours… there’s still plenty of use in it. Apparently, the disposable turns totally bright red when it’s full and needs changing. So… keep wearing it until it does.
“But mum… er… I’ve… er…um… done a poo as well as wet… erm…” I started to tell her as I know she likes to keep me clean at all times.
I’ve rarely worn a used nappy for more than a couple of minutes when at home, she’s that scrupulous about hygiene.
“Well done love but, as it isn’t completely red yet, that means there is still plenty more absorbency in it so…”
I’m a little shocked to still have to wear something I’ve messed in, despite the fact that it doesn’t actually feel like I’ve done so. I mean, well, there’s certainly some firmness to the disposable but all in all, I don’t sense it needed a change. The squishy mushiness that would normally follow me around after I messed just wasn’t there. This was one very strange and unique disposable.
I peered in the mirror as mum gently ran her fingers over it and looked pretty pleased and impressed. Standing there, with mum fussing, it took me back to when I was a lot younger and she was always proud of the fact that I’d done my business. At that moment I felt like a three year-old and for the briefest of moments, the image looking back was just that, me at three.
#
It was getting late, so I wished mum a ‘goodnight’ and before tentatively easing myself under the covers I gave this incredible piece of clothing a final inspection. The wispy, floaty, quilted material had become firm but not immobile, there was still a bit of give to the structure and even the silky, supple texture was quite thrilling to fondle… I didn’t want to leave it alone.
There was definitely something else happening that was making me regard this product in a completely different way I’d viewed everything I’d ever worn (and used) before. My fingers traced over what had once been a very insubstantial piece of incontinence-wear but now… something robust and strangely calming occupied my crotch… and my thoughts… yet I had no idea why.
I tentatively slipped between the sheets wearing only the new piece of merchandise but for some reason was a bit apprehensive. Of course, over the many years wearing just a thick nappy and plastic pants to bed had become my natural sleep attire. In fact, I’d gotten used to the slippery nature of the vinyl and quite liked its silken, supple quality – I often fell asleep just stroking and enjoying the glassy material… although this was something else.
Actually, that was what was different. I was enjoying wearing this new design, not only enjoying wearing it but enjoying still using it. My head was full of ridiculous thoughts as I caressed the special fabric. The soft lacy bits, together with the firmer, slicker padding, all sending wave after wave of utter delight through my system.
Thoughts of pleasure, of accomplishment, of contentment…
WHOA!
The total sensation was making my heart and mind surge with complete gratification and my body shook as I realised that this was a very exceptional thing I was experiencing.
The End of Because we say so – Chapter Five.
The story originally came from: https://www.dailydiapers.com/content/stories.html
If you want to read more stories about ABDL boys you can find a list here: Diaper Boys – Index