Auntie Joan Parts 1 - 13 (end)

Re: Auntie Joan Parts 1 - 11

Part 11

Strange to say but Rainbow and the private school in the UK had more in common than I thought. It certainly wasn’t the uniform (ha-ha) but attitude; neither tolerated bullying to take place.

At Rainbow, if there was an argument or some conflict (usually over a toddler wanting to play with a toy someone else was already enjoying) it was frowned upon by the adults who would settle the disagreement by speaking with the aggressive party and not condoning such behaviour. Often the dispute would end with a “Sowwy” and both parties would end up playing happily together.

At the school in England a similar tactic was enforced (apart from the “Sowwy”), bullying was efficiently discouraged, with the older students taking it as part of their function not to allow such behaviour to go unchallenged. As a result, bullying in both institutions was not prevalent and if it happened, was quickly neutralised.

School settled down fairly quickly. I had my early morning checks with Nurse Jefferson and she would call the principal to confirm I was well-padded so, once she got the “OK” from him I was allowed to go to class.

My new, self-imposed uniform of long pants and un-tucked in shirt or long jumper, more or less hid the bulkiness from view so wasn’t a source of comment. I did smell sweet from the baby powder but I suppose everyone had their own ‘smell’ so mine wasn’t thought of as anything in particular.

The crinkle and creak of my plastic pants was there but nobody appeared to be that concerned. All in all I thought I was fitting in surprisingly OK.

As I’ve mentioned, wearing diapers doesn’t worry me in the least and even after I’d told Oliver the reason he was still my friend. In fact, the more I told him the closer we became. Over those first few days, after auntie had explained that I might actually enjoy sharing with a friend, I never shut up.

Oliver was keen to hear everything and was a terrific listener and a guy who didn’t hide his own emotions. When I told him about my parent’s dramatic death he appeared more upset than I’d been. Oddly enough, his reaction set me off and I think for the first time I cried for my parents and not for myself.

This, I realised too late, was a mistake because emotionally at least, my bladder was in complete sympathy and let flow. My diaper gave me that warming glow and Oli wondered why I’d gone quiet but for some reason this felt different. I looked at Oli and realised that he was the first person I’d ever really shared such a deep moment with. Of course there was auntie but Oli was… a… friend, my first real friend, and I wasn’t sure how to react.

Why I should have been nervous I have no idea but he gave me a gentle hug and smiled so I knew all was well.

I didn’t visit the nurse immediately but knew eventually I’d have to go and get changed. Despite the lotions and powder she applied, auntie had warned me about wearing a wet diaper for too long so a quick change was advised.

Oliver did say something that I found arresting. After hearing that my wetting apparently increased after my parent’s deaths, perhaps, he thought, I’d been affected more than I understood, maybe even subconsciously. Now where a fourteen year-old could get such an insight from I do not know but it certainly set me thinking.

My new best friend was a constant amazement. Because of his working class background I had assumed, very wrongly as it turned out, that he’d struggle in class. Not a bit of it. Like me he was way ahead of just about everyone else in the 9th Grade. However, unlike me his was a natural intelligence, whereas mine was bought and paid for at special private learning facilities. In those first few days he was a constant surprise and I began to rely on his friendship pretty heavily as I negotiated my way through an unfamiliar educational system.

For those first few days wearing my protection I managed to remain almost dry, what little trickled out was easily soaked up so wasn’t noticeable. However, after that emotional discussion involving the death of my parents, and Oliver’s comment, the deluge was intense and I was really glad that auntie had made sure I wore some very strong rubber leak-proof pants that day. I don’t know if she gets a sixth sense about this type of thing but she had me well protected when I needed it most.

Nurse Jefferson I think still regarded me as a little ‘special’ and treated me as such. On the few occasions I had to visit her she was all smiles and cheerfulness and definitely talked down to me but not in a patronising way. Now, you may have thought I resented this but in fact, it made me laugh.

She certainly wasn’t like auntie when she changed me but she was nothing like the other ‘nurses’ who had tended to my wet diapers in the past. She was fun, helpful and sympathetic… if on a slightly different level.

She would often engulf me in powder.

“Just to keep you smelling sweet.”

And take some delight making sure I was well tucked in and my plastic pants didn’t inflate too much as she pulled them over the disposable. She was keen that I wasn’t embarrassed by anything she did. However, sometimes she added a separate thick layer of padding if I’d had a particularly thorough soaking.

“Just to be on the safe side.”

She’d say with a final pat to my cushioned bottom.

I’d thank her for all the attention (my English public school politeness coming to the fore again) and she would say, “Thank you your Lordship” and chuckle to herself.

Thanks to Oliver (I hardly had much contact with Yoosuf, who, as suspected, had become a prime target for a lot of girls, which he loved), I was able to integrate a lot easier than I’d originally thought I would. A few of the other students had also been to Rainbow Rooms Nursery as kids so auntie was well known and despite my unorthodox first few months in town, once folk knew I was her nephew other people started to talk to me.

I had been noticed around town in my ‘childish’ clothes and some of my peers (and others) let their thoughts be known. They assumed I was a “retard”, or at least that was then impression I’d given. “A f*cking freak” was another observation from a tenth and eleventh Grade group of kids. Others thought I must be a foreign exchange student because of my accent (and politeness), whilst a few appeared to know of my dramatic story and offered sympathetic looks and the occasional sigh (although that was mainly from girls). The boys tried to get me involved in their games but I was still having difficulty in applying myself to this new situation, thankfully Oliver smoothed the way and under his guiding hand I mixed relatively well.

When one boy questioned me about the short shorts he’d seen me wearing out and about in town with auntie I was a bit stuck for an answer until Oliver came to the rescue.

“Oh, yes, I need to get myself some of those,” he smiled as if he was in the know. “They are trending in Europe as the next big fashion…”

He let me add my piece.

“MTV Europe is all over it.”

I couldn’t believe I was saying this in an overly emphasised British manner.

“I may be the first to bring this style to this fair town but I doubt I’ll be the last.”

There were a few nods of approval, or at least understanding, although a few other boys sniggered, joyfully ridiculed me and said they’d never wear something that babyish. At least Oliver’s quick mind had dug me out of a hole I could so easily have slipped into… perhaps never to return?

I sighed with relief.

To begin with, after each new day of school I couldn’t wait to return to 46 Glendew Lane and resume my toddler life. I’d rush up to the nursery and pull off my school clothes and wait for auntie’s return to properly fit me in my diaper. The intimacy was all part of my happy journey back to the place I liked the best and, bless her heart, auntie was happy to oblige.

However, once I’d got to know Oliver better I’d arrive home and wasn’t quite as quick to change. In fact I’d go into the ‘other room’ and turn on the computer (something I hadn’t done for absolutely ages) and either play games or catch up on the loads of stuff that had accumulated there since I’d arrived at auntie’s house. Before I knew it auntie would be calling me down for the evening meal and I’d be still dressed as if I’d just gotten in.

She never said anything about this only asking me about the day and how teachers and other kids were treating me. I couldn’t complain. She seemed OK with this news and didn’t push for further details. After the meal and I’d helped with some chores, I returned to the ‘other room’ to finish my homework.

I’d slept in there a few times but still regarded the nursery as my main bedroom however, as I stripped down to get ready for bed the urge to stay there was strong. I stood in front of the mirror wearing just my protection, which was bunched up but only slightly damp, and wondered if I wanted this as much anymore.

There was little doubt that, as I ran my hands over the glossy, slippery plastic surface, the bulkiness under my pants felt as wonderful as ever. The tremble of comfort they offered was there but… I wasn’t sure why but I thought, well, I didn’t know what I thought… but there was certainly some doubt in my mind. Perhaps wearing a diaper for ‘big school’ (I giggled at the very idea of that name) was not what I really wanted.

I wriggled out of my protection and slipped into the shower. When I returned I was expecting auntie to be there to make sure I was well diapered for the night but she wasn’t. With a white towel wrapped around my waist I wandered into the nursery and checked out all the things I liked so much. Touching the pile of diapers and running my fingers over the smooth array of plastic pants I caught sight of myself in the full-length mirror and saw that the towel still made it look like I was wearing a diaper. I smiled to myself… but it was decision time.

I moved over from the nursery into ‘my room’ and searched through the draws to find suitable PJs. Yes, I was giving this whole – being fourteen – a real good go and pulled on the type of nightwear I’d not worn since I’d arrived at aunties. Without the bulk of the diaper the pale blue cotton pyjama pants slipped around my waist with ease. It felt a bit strange and it didn’t seem right but, I was determined to be fourteen for the night.

I pulled the covers up and for once wasn’t surrounded by cartoon characters or stuffed toys. My thumb waivered in front of my mouth for a second but I felt really tired and was about to go to sleep when auntie came in to say goodnight.

“Are you OK Doodle?” She ran her hand through my short hair.

“Yes auntie. I’m at High School now so…”

She seemed to understand and gently kissed my head.

“Sleep tight sweetheart.”

She turned the light off and closed the door.

I didn’t remember dreaming but I must have slept very heavily because auntie was there rousing me for school.

“C’mon Doodle; you’re going to be late if you don’t get a move on.”

I lay there trying to get my slightly fuddled senses in order. Normally auntie has checked if I’m wet or not, but not this morning. She was drawing the blinds and letting in a rather grey looking morning. Gone was the sun that had been a feature of every day since I’d arrived and the clouds had gathered making the place appear very dull.

Waking up like this, in my new bedroom, which wasn’t as bright or cheery as when I woke up in the nursery, left me feeling a little down. In fact, it took me longer than usual to motivate myself to get up but then my reflexes kicked in when I realised I was soaked.

The sigh that left my throat unbidden attracted auntie’s attention. She saw the look of pained anguish on my face and rightly assumed what was wrong.

“Doodle, don’t worry.”

She was already coming over to hug and comfort me.

“We can sort it out… no worries.”

She knew I must have wet the bed but I was annoyed at trying to be a teenager without at least taking some precautions.

“But auntie,” I sobbed, “I’ve ruined a new bed. I’m sowwy”

The “sowwy” was unintentional but at that moment I felt like a silly little bedwetting kid, even though I’d done it hundreds of times, at that moment I felt I’d let auntie down.

“Don’t worry sweetheart. There’s a waterproof cover over the mattress,” she let that info sink in.

“So it’s only a few sheets and your PJs,” she smiled and ruffled my hair, “so no great disaster.”

I felt useless but auntie helped me up and out of bed, stripped it and me, then sent me off to shower. When I returned, auntie had changed and remade the bed and had my school protection ready. The changing mat and all the creams and powders were waiting so I just lay out and let her get on with it.

“I suppose it’s back to the nursery for me?” I looked guiltily at her.

“It’s up to you sweetheart. I think you have to try this room and give the nursery a miss for a while… but only if you want.”

She smiled.

“We can always wrap you up safely in here.”

Her eyes darted around the room.

“Perhaps a pull-up… or two… to begin with?”

Her eyes raised to question if that would be acceptable.

As she finished shuffling the plastic pants into place I nodded my agreement.

“OK then, that’s what we’ll do. Come on, time’s running out and you’ll miss the school bus if you don’t get a move on.”

The first few weeks passed quickly although I was aware that it was a school enmeshed in a tense atmosphere. Unlike Rainbow and my English school, there were many cliques and divisions that appeared to flourish in such a huge and diverse environment. The school was the only High School in the region so had an enormous number of students, who were garnered from not only the town but all the smaller outlying areas. This produced a diversity of strange allegiances to various factions including; fashion, sport, clubs, family and rivalries between previous other schools.

In the senior aspect of the school it was the ‘jocks’ that appeared to reign supreme. Unlike at the school in England, there was a lot of flaunting their success, no matter how local and parochial that success was. A great deal of fuss was made about even being on a team never mind if they actually won anything (which they hadn’t). I was amazed at the attitude of these people - their strutting and self-belief was, to my mind at least, undeserved and I couldn’t help but point that out to anyone who might listen to my view.

Oliver suggested that, for the moment at least, as we were in an easily targeted age group (with absolutely no influence) I should curtail any negative opinions on the High School Broncos, or any of the other sports teams that infested the place. The football team were big and fearsome with apparently an absolute right to lord it over timid students, which was mainly everyone else.

I hated to say it but the school in the UK just would not put up with such behaviour, where modesty in achievements was thought of in a positive manner. I remembered one of the ‘Old Boys’ from that school returning with an Olympic Gold medal, which we all (yes even me) were keen to touch. I’d never met a nicer, more unassuming man (in fact he must have only been a teenager himself) who thanked and praised his peers and school for the encouragement they’d given him.

Meanwhile… well… words failed me because I just couldn’t (without swearing) say what I thought of these unworthy, loud-mouthed bullies.

Meanwhile, at home I temporarily put the nursery ‘off limits’ on school days so my nights were spent in ‘my room’ wearing new PJs under which I wore a pair or two of pull-ups as a safety net (so to speak). A couple more times I flooded them and wet the bed but in general they seemed to work reasonably well. However, I did miss not having my slinky plastic pants on as stroking them before I dropped off both relaxed me, if I was feeling that way out, or made me hard, if my mind was working in a different direction. The thickness of the padding denying me access, which was frustrating but in a gloriously wonderful way, making the smooth outer coating seem all the more sensual.

There is something quite special about certain vinyl pants. Some can be smooth, yet unyielding, thick and offer support but little comfort. However, some of the soft, opaque pants that I wore were so slinky and pliable that I sometimes couldn’t imagine not wearing them for the sheer emotional thrill their touch gave. I looked at myself many times in the mirror and was overjoyed to see the well-padded seat of my diaper enclosed in that smooth ductile material; the elastic legs gripping and holding everything tightly in place before I slipped on a pair of shorts or trousers. The thought of what I had on under those clothes had me in a constant state of secure pleasure.

Although my wetting at school was less than what I used to do at Rainbow, I still had some accidents. The principal was adamant that I’d not be allowed out of my protection until we’d seen the second psychologist and he’d had a report that I was ‘safe’ and in fairness, although I had no intention of messing all over the school, I still was having peeing problems.

It was unfortunate that sometimes I got no warning of my bladder leaking until I was already in the process of flooding my diaper and of course by then any attempt to stop the flow was a useless act. On these occasions I’d visit Nurse Jefferson in the break and she would sort me out fairly promptly. Because it had become such a relaxed operation, and I was usually the only patient, it never occurred to me that others might use the facility.

As I lay naked from the waist down an injured jock, straight from the playing fields, came bursting in holding a bloody rag to his equally bloody nose.

He was a very big senior and I’m sure it was only because he’d been told to see the nurse that he hadn’t just carried on playing, blood or no blood.

He saw this 9th Grader, me, lying out, buck naked and getting lotion rubbed into my hairless groin (I was still using the creams that auntie used in those first few days to prevent hair growth). He did a double-take as he saw the huge disposable being readied and the plastic pants waiting to be slipped up.

It was as if all his prayers had been answered to make this journey to the nurse’s office worthwhile.

He burst out laughing.

“Oh sorry nurse I didn’t know you were on baby-sitting duty.”

He guffawed at his clever comment.

“I’ll wait until his diapee is all snuggly-wuggly… I’m sure my bloody dripping nose can wait until after such an emergency.”

“Now Kyle,” Nurse Jefferson responded. “I’ll only be a few more seconds so why not wait in the office and then I’ll see to you?”

“Sure, sure.”

He slowly backed out but not without taking in the final act of being taped into my disposable.

“Get the kindergarteners sorted first… I’m sure nap time isn’t far off.”

He was mumbling but making sure I heard every word.

I was a bit embarrassed and alarmed to say the least that my diaper change had been witnessed by one of the football fraternity and although I wished otherwise, I had a feeling this wasn’t going to be the last I heard about it.

Nurse Jefferson didn’t seem to be worried, or even acknowledge, the disruption and happily carried on making sure my protection was in place.

As I left the room the huge bloody hulking frame of Kyle was waiting just outside the door.

“Well aren’t you just precious?”

He delivered his words with both sarcasm and venom.

“I’m sure I’ll be seeing a great deal of my sweet little baby girlie…”

He patted my padded bottom.

“That’s a thick, thick diaper for a thick, thick pissy little baby. Oh yes… she’s just right to be a playmate.”

His voice was a mocking and threatening growl.

I was angry at his words and that he’d feminised me but at that precise moment I was just too humiliated to come back with a witty reply. His bulk was very intimidating and as he entered the room I’d just exited he blew me a kiss and smeared more blood on his already bloody face.

As the door slammed shut I shivered wondering what hell I could expect from then on.

To be continued

Re: Auntie Joan Parts 1 - 11

I love where your going with this keep it up

Re: Auntie Joan Parts 1 - 11

Thanks Baby boy 415 :wink:

Things are getting a bit desperate for Dean. :frowning:

Re: Auntie Joan Parts 1 - 11

I can’t wait for more

Re: Auntie Joan Parts 1 - 12

Part 12

Auntie Joan had received confirmation that our appointment with Dr Jayne Barrows, another psychologist, would happen in four weeks. Why it had taken so long to arrange I wasn’t sure (I suppose it showed the mental health of the state) anyway, that meant that for the next month at least I would have to continue to wear my protection for school.

The principal insisted that I was still checked every morning and that any changes (should I wet) would be supervised by the nurse on duty, I was not to be allowed to change myself. I assumed this was some fear the school had of being sued should I develop a rash (or something worse) whilst in their ‘care’. I didn’t mind, I was used to having others take charge of my diaper change and I quite liked the fuss that surrounded this particular action.

Auntie had made it into an art. The care and attention paid to each part of the process always left me wriggling in pleasure. I know at fourteen I should be over that but in truth, it was the one thing that held me completely under its spell. The clothing… the childish clothing… was all well and good but the consideration auntie gave to my wellbeing with each wipe of the cloth, each tender touch as she applied the creams and lotions, the gentle loving sprinkle of the baby powder over my genitals and bum, were the things that made it all so special. The final firm fitting of the diaper was all part of a bonding experience I particularly enjoyed and so… was in no hurry to forego.

From the start Auntie Joan had let me go at my own pace, though I hadn’t realised it at the time, and to make my own decisions. She knew what I wanted, what I needed, and let me, with her encouragement, find what worked. The few months I’d spent as a little kid in her charge had been a complete revelation. I began to see things in a completely different way. My anger decreased, my self-imposed exile from the rest of the human race was broken and I’m sure I’d grown in such a way that my mind had been recalibrated. If this was what being ‘born again’ felt like, no wonder religious people praised it so much. Now I wasn’t religious in the least but this ‘glow’ from within was undeniable and it did indeed feel like something very special had happened deep inside.

For me, auntie was the best psychologist in the world, even if she didn’t have a bunch of diplomas and degrees after her name.

She’d rebuilt a fairly damaged boy and given him a future that wasn’t on a path of anger, isolation and possible self-destruction. I now found I had options that I would never have considered only a few months back. The diapers, as a simple wetting precaution at first, had proved to be the catalyst for my regeneration and I owed that simple piece of clothing everything I did now… and perhaps would do in future.

I’d worried about Kyle, the Hulk (as I thought of him) and the pleasure he’d taken in seeing my juvenile and diapered status, I began to ponder how he would set about using this to his ends. At the time, and despite just being changed into a fresh and dry disposable, the confrontation in the nurse’s office had un-nerved me and I’d wet myself instantly. So, for the rest of the day I was walking around with a very bloated diaper between my legs and decided I’d just put up with the inconvenience rather than return to Nurse Jefferson. I certainly didn’t want to meet him or any of his team buddies in that state of wetness.

I’d had few ‘run-ins’ with this type of person and wasn’t sure how to react. In England, if you felt threatened by anyone or anything at school, you simply discussed it with a senior or teacher (whoever you were more comfortable talking with) and the problem would be resolved. Over those first few weeks at High School I hadn’t detected that type of intervention. Intimidation seemed rife and it appeared it was up to the individual to sort it out, make themselves invisible or just put up with it, whatever that ‘it’ might be. I knew jocks were a closely bonded group and they would mindlessly support each other so expected ‘The Hulk’ wouldn’t be the only one I’d have dealings with in the coming days.

I discussed what had happened with Oliver. Like me he saw possible problems ahead but was of the firm belief that telling a teacher or the principal was not the way to proceed. Because of what I’d experienced in the UK I couldn’t believe that a principal, or anyone else in a responsible position, wouldn’t want to nip such intimidation in the bud. However, Oliver just told me to “Look around”.

He was right to underline what I’d already established; it was going on everywhere, openly and with no interference from anyone. If you defended some poor picked on junior, pretty soon you also became the object for intimidation. So far Oli and I had flown ‘under the radar’ (Oli’s words) but we did notice that Yoosuf had to cope with a great deal of jealousy from various groups of boys.

He was good-looking, dressed well, confident and, with his dark looks, had a mysterious air to him that many at the school found both scary and exciting. For many generations his family had been part of the ruling classes in the Middle East, now there were barbed comments and graffiti calling him a ‘terrorist’. He tried his best to laugh these excesses off but I could see that at times he was struggling. He was subject to quite a number of personal provocations from seniors and junior thugs alike.

Typical of Oliver he was well aware of what was going on and despite the fact he was no ‘hard case from the block’ he hovered in Yoosuf’s proximity in case he needed any kind of support. He still maintained that our small group of three newcomers should stick together and that we should support one and other. On more than one occasion I saw him deftly insert himself between Yoosuf and some adversary and gently, almost as if it wasn’t planned, ease Yoosuf away.

For some reason Oliver didn’t attract a negative reaction. He was friendly with everyone and despite being quite clever, never flaunted his superior knowledge and abilities over others. I suppose it helped that he never looked afraid of anybody, no matter how big or threatening they might appear. His humour, quick and clever talk and incredible affability made him instantly likeable. Also, he held his ground so as a result was not pushed around or picked on. Those who crumbled became victims.

Whereas, Yoosuf and I were obviously different – his Persian looks and my ‘English’ accent, Oliver just mixed in well with the locals. Even after a very short time he was already well-liked by his classmates and had new friends who sought his company. I think when he hung around with either Yoosuf or me it put some people off a little, although I was still socialising and interacting more than I’d ever done before.

The day after my encounter with the Hulk it started… and it started with a grope to my padded bottom.

“She’s well diapered… but probably wet… so no doubt needs to be.”

He was talking to a couple of his equally hulking mates when we passed in the hallway and as I was retrieving some books from my locker.

“She’s the little baby I was telling you guys about…”

The molestation was forceful and I ended up being pushed up against the lockers as he patted my bottom and continued his vulgar juvenile comments.

“Hairless and diapered… just like my shitty baby sister.”

Those around looked on wondering what all this was about.

“Yes siree, she sure has a fine ass…” He continued his fondling of my diapered bum.

His mates found this hilarious and were laughing as if he’d just told the funniest joke ever.

“Perhaps she’ll show us her little diapee when she goes bye-byes… or our little baby here gets nursey to change her?”

With one final swat I was left half crammed into my locker and feeling shocked at what had taken place and that I hadn’t had chance to respond. When I finally extricated myself he and his mates were already gone and there was a look of both pity and pleasure from the assorted group who’d witnessed the event.

I looked around the assembled faces and saw that there wasn’t one of them who would have intervened on my behalf and I even saw a teacher, who obviously having witnessed what had taken place and seemed embarrassed that I’d noticed him looking on, quickly made himself scarce.

Other than in the boxing ring at school in the UK I don’t think I’d ever had to fight anyone. Especially after a few months at Rainbow I simply wasn’t equipped to combat aggression. In my head I thought I’d be fearless but in truth, I was shaking like a leaf. The other result of this altercation was that I’d severely wet my diaper but once again didn’t want to give him the satisfaction (whether he was aware of it or not) that’s how my bladder reacted to such confrontation. I could feel the very bloated disposable filling out my pants but would have to wait until break to do anything about it, for now I still had class.

At break, instead of going to the nurse I went to the principal’s office to lodge a complaint about Kyle’s behaviour. I got the brush off with an “I’ll speak with him”. There was nothing more I could do and the principal seemed to want me out of his office as quickly as possible. Whether that was from being worried I’d poo all over the place or that he just didn’t want bothering with, to him, such trivial matters, I’m not sure but I was speedily dismissed.

However, once home and in a safe environment the more I thought about it I was sure I’d be able to cope. I was in two minds whether to let auntie know but she had been fretting since I’d gone to High School that something like this might happen so I decided I should mention it… I hated keeping secrets from her.

“Well, my diapers are no longer a secret.” I announced with a shrug.

“Oh Doodle I am sorry… hope it wasn’t too traumatic…”

I shrugged again and told her exactly what had happened.

As always she listened carefully and I could see various emotions passing over her face and began to wonder if I’d done the right thing in bringing it up.

“Oh darling, that’s a terrible experience. Do you want me to speak with the principal?”

“No auntie it’s… fine… I’m sure all kids have to go through this type of thing and, if The Hulk wants to use my diapers as ammunition,” I smiled at the idea of my diapers being used as ammo, “there’s going to be very little anyone can do about it.”

“Well dear, keep me informed, I need to know what’s going on with my sweet Doodle.”

She gave me a hug.

“Besides, you have a legitimate reason for wearing them and I say… screw anyone who has a problem with that.”

I was surprised at auntie’s use of words and it set us both off giggling like three year-olds.

Now I could see certain aspects of my life in perspective, the idea of anyone ridiculing me for wearing diapers was not going to gain any embarrassment at my expense. If needed I would let the entire school know I wore protection… and even more so… was not in the least bit troubled by that fact. So, if he, or anyone else, thought they could benefit from any attempt to humiliate me in front of others I would have to play things on my terms and not theirs.

Alas, the whole team seemed to now be in on the ‘joke’.

I hardly went anywhere without one of them patting my bum or pulling at the rear of my pants “Just checking baby’s still dry” and gleefully saying babyish things as they passed by. Of course, their actions meant that it was a signal for others to act the same way and before long I could hardly step in the hallway or move to a different classroom without a barrage of comments and assaults. The name ‘diaper boy’ followed me everywhere; unfortunately it was never said as if referring to a Super Hero.

What started out as ‘playful’ banter got turned up several notches after the Bronco’s worst defeat of the early season. It appeared that I was the person the wounded team could lash out at and those ‘playful’ thumps became much more painful and the attacks more humiliating.

Despite my continuing complaints the principal just didn’t want to know and, although he’d had a word with Kyle, nothing changed apart from him getting more and more aggressive. This had a knock on effect because I was continually wetting myself and every time I went to the nurse’s office, one of the team seemed to be ready to ridicule me in front of her. Nurse Jefferson took absolutely no notice of them but there again, she just didn’t seem aware of the damage their actions were doing to me and so, resentment settled in and I stopped going to her. My diaper would be full and leaking by the end of the day, through natural causes and through my distressed bladder.

My impotent anger was building and although I asked auntie to make sure my diaper had extra padding each morning I wasn’t sleeping well at nights and would wake up in the same state as when I returned home – soaking and irritable. She was adamant about speaking to the principal but I begged her not to intervene as I desperately wanted to sort this problem out for myself.

After one particularly aggressive de-panting that left me wearing little more than my drenched diaper and ripped plastic pants (and perhaps could have been a lot worse if Oliver and Yoosuf hadn’t come to my rescue) I was quite devastated. There were looks of derision and sympathy from those who witnessed the event but no one of any authority stepped in to stop it.

As I stood in the main school hallway in an obviously soaked diaper anyone who didn’t know before were left in no doubt that ‘weird English kid’ wears pissy diapers. My pants had disappeared with the football team and I had to scramble around trying to find something else to cover my shame.

Some girls offered me a skirt, but whether this was out of kindness or a further opportunity to embarrass me I was in no mood to find out. Thankfully Oliver arrived with a pair of gym shorts that I gratefully pulled over my demonstrably swollen diaper.

My anger had returned. That anger that had me thrown out of the boxing club back in the UK and the one I’d reserved for my ‘thoughtless’ parents was bubbling in the pit of my stomach. It wasn’t helped by the fist that had connected there earlier from one of Kyle’s goons and, as there wasn’t going to be any adult intervention, I was going to have to sort it out for myself. Somehow I didn’t think that a polite note, or even a confrontation of the principal by auntie, would produce results so I decided that this diaper-wearing little baby was going to seek revenge.

Throughout my time at Rainbow I’d never been angry. I’d had toys taken from me by other toddlers and felt occasionally petulant but these feelings passed surprisingly quickly as I’d immerse myself (with the help of the staff) in some other enthralling game. However, my Rainbow time was now definitely at an end and although I still wore protection to sleep in I was determined to be a clever fourteen year-old student and not a wimpy, fourteen year-old victim.

As auntie changed me and got me ready for bed she could tell I had something on my mind. I wanted to discuss it with her but was afraid that she would try and talk me out of my course of action. I also didn’t want her worrying, but of course she would. I slipped a pair of baggy boxers over my night time diapers and crawled into bed determined not to let Kyle and his cronies continue to infect my dreams. Auntie waited a few extra seconds at my bedroom door. I knew she knew that I had things on my mind and hoped that I would share them but this time I needed to do it without her help.

My dream was not quite what I anticipated. Indeed, not a sign of Kyle and his gang appeared but a potted history of my time at 46 Glendew Lane rolled out before me. The first time I wet myself in public, the first time auntie suggested I return to diapers, the quick way I embraced the entire idea of a return to some kind of positive childhood…

The dream continued and at every turn I saw how reliant on auntie I’d been, how I was determined to be her ‘best little boy’, why I had taken to diapers so easily and come to rely on them for comfort and safety. The dream was an endless procession of why I had become what I’d become and the love that had guided that entire journey.

Auntie Joan.

Towards the end of my dream things got a bit more confusing. A few figures from my past began to interrupt proceedings. The feeling of happiness was being disturbed by teachers and pupils I had known in the past and who, despite their best intentions of friendship, I had snubbed. A tangle of emotions, and as it turned out, anger at myself, was eating fiercely into my subconscious and draining any comfort I’d been experiencing up until the moment when I awoke with a start.

I wasn’t in the nursery, I hadn’t actually slept in there for a couple of weeks, but, as I woke up I desperately needed all those comforting signs that I associated with ‘happiness’. At that moment my bedroom felt austere and unwelcoming. The blues, greys and blacks echoing my mood and I wanted sunshine, colour, cartoons and fluffy animals. I threw back the covers and discovered a different sensation, I was dry.

I didn’t quite believe it as I hadn’t had a dry morning for some time. I slowly pulled down my boxers and tentatively ran my hand over the slick plastic cover, it definitely didn’t feel bloated. I slipped them down and was surprised to find that, although the diaper had bunched up a little, it was completely dry. Shocked, I unpinned it and set it on my desk before wandering to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

My spirits rose as I showered and I thought about not wearing protection to school. I knew that I had to be inspected but I thought about ignoring that particular instruction and not visiting the nurse before attending class.

Back in my room I searched for a pair of boxers and decided not to even wear a pair of pull-ups under them. When auntie came in and saw me wearing underwear and not protection I could see from her look she didn’t think it was a wise move.

“I want to try a day without protection.”

I was both explaining my stance and appealing for auntie’s understanding.

“OK Doodle… but you know that Mr Thomson has already said you need to be protected…”

“Yes, but, er, I don’t intend to see Nurse Jefferson, er, or the principal, I’ll just go straight to class.”

She raised her eyebrows and left the final decision to me.

Half way through the first period of English I was summoned to the principal’s office.

“Court.” Mr Thomson looked fatigued and annoyed.

“Yes sir.” I maintained my composure and politeness.

“Did you see the nurse this morning… as per my instructions?”

“No sir.”

“Why not?”

“Because sir, I’m fed up with being treated as a child and it’s affecting…”

“So,” he interrupted my flow and I could see he was heading towards a showdown “you have decided, unbidden by me, to take the rules I have set down and what, just ignore them?”

“My wearing diapers to class sir has resulted in bullying and…”

“Tell me Mr Court why you were wearing diapers in the first place.”

He had me and he knew it.

Reluctantly I had to give him the answer he already knew.

“Because I occasionally wet myself sir.”

It was a reply without the bravado I would have liked.

“Wet… and MORE,” He emphasised the more.

“And do you no longer wet yourself Mr Court?”

"Erm, er, not as much… er, "

This was a complete lie because since Kyle and his chums had adopted me as their punch bag I’d been wetting constantly.

“Well let me tell you Mr Court, I get complaints in here every day about you smelling of urine…”

This took the wind out of my sails.

He watched as my face flushed, it was something I hadn’t noticed but obviously others had.

“… but I knew that was something you couldn’t help because of your ‘problem’ and you were doing your best, by wearing protection, to limit such a dilemma.”

He explained as if he was defending my predicament.

My argument about being bullied had just flown out the window as I tried to think of why I never thought about the smell of my wet diapers.

My eyes were searching his carpet for some escape. I wasn’t expecting this and I felt stupid, inferior and at a huge disadvantage.

I shuffled my feet.

I’m sure he could recognise my uncertainty but firmly laid down his rules once more.

“Now you have a choice. Go to the nurse immediately and get yourself appropriately protected or go home and explain to your aunt why I will not allow you back into my school.”

I certainly didn’t want to alarm auntie, besides she had more or less inferred this might happen so I didn’t see I had an alternative.

“Yes sir.” I whispered.

“Yes sir what?” He wanted me to spell out his instructions.

“I’ll go to the nurse sir”.

“And?”

He was determined I should know who was in charge.

“I will not come to school again without the appropriate protection.”

“Now get out and don’t waste my time… again.”

He was obviously referring to my other complaints as well.

I was in no position to protest against that comment so just had to accept his decision.

“If I don’t hear from Nurse Jefferson every morning you will not be allowed to enter this school again. Do you understand?”

I nodded. “Sir”.

As I left his office I felt the tears and my crushed rebellion fill my heart like a dead weight and grudgingly made my way to the nurse.

Nurse Jefferson was just finishing on the phone when I knocked on her door. She had a look of distain that is normally kept for silly little kids who should know better but still do something stupid.

“Well young man.”

I was expecting a lecture about my non-attendance but she just pointed towards the changing bench and told me to take off my pants and boxers.
Thankfully I’d remained dry all the way through the principal’s speech and had managed to visit the toilet before I arrived at the nurse’s office. I was hopeful I’d remain dry for the rest of the day.

“Last week Miss Marsden left some things for you, just in case of emergencies but I am under strict instructions from Principal Thomson to make sure you are well padded, leak-proof and… smell like a daisy.”

I’m not sure if “smell like a daisy” were his words but I got the meaning that the thin plastic pants auntie had left with the nurse were going to be changed for the thicker, more robust rubber pair she was holding.

After all the preliminaries she fitted me in a very generous and extra padded disposable before adding the super smooth but inflexible rubber pants, it felt like I’d been concreted into my protection. I’d like to say it was a comforting sensation but it wasn’t, the elastic cuff held the top of my thighs tightly and irritated me because they were old and worn. Some of the rubber was slightly cracked so it nipped at my bare skin when she made sure none of my diaper showed past the seal. The waistband was equally tight and despite the white rubber being very glossy the durable material creaked with even the slightest movement. I sounded like I needed oiling.

As I stood up but before I’d been able to put my pants on the principal’s secretary walked in unannounced and gave me a letter with the instruction that I had to deliver it to auntie. As she left the door was wide open and it was just my luck that a couple of seniors were there for some reason and saw my newly diapered state. Despite my protests Nurse Jefferson didn’t seem in a hurry to close it, whilst insisting I put my pants on and return to class immediately. You can probably guess the names I was subjected to as I eventually left her office. So, although I’d intended not to be embarrassed by wearing diapers, the fact was, at that moment I was extremely self-conscious and ashamed.

I think a great part of that shame was because I knew I’d brought this on myself by refusing to wear my diaper as instructed that morning. The nurse’s attitude had been correct, I had been a silly little kid who should know better but still did something stupid.

Walking at normal speed produced a very obvious rustling sound but slowing down made it look like I’d had some kind of accident as my legs were slightly bowed by the thick padding. I was awkward and I’d never felt that my protection looked so noticeable before. I was uncomfortable so it may have been that I was just too aware of what I was wearing but I noticed that Oliver’s mates suddenly found better things to do when I appeared on the scene.

Oliver was very supportive as expected and even tried to make a joke about my ‘special containment’ (as he referred to it). Unfortunately, everyone else, and not just the football team, decided that I was now total fair game and I received a barrage of comments and abuse. Even though the nurse had covered me in baby powder and “sweet smelling oil” (Nurse Jefferson’s words), quite a few people either could, or pretended, that they could smell pee… my pee and poop.

Now everyone knew about my diapers I wished they didn’t.

To be continued…

Re: Auntie Joan Parts 1 - 12

2 favorite parts in this

Chapter 7 where he goes full blown goo goo gaa gaa with the doctor and poops (disgusting)
And now chapter 12. Yeah kid you got everything you wanted. Not so fun is it?

Re: Auntie Joan Parts 1 - 12

Way to go still got me sucking my paci in anticipation

Re: Auntie Joan Parts 1 - 12

Thanks, that’s really good to hear… let me see if I can do more to help fill you nappy :wink:
(If that isn’t completely inappropriate :-[ )

Re: Auntie Joan Parts 1 - 13 (end)

Part 13

The note I delivered to auntie from Principal Thomson was a demand that she would make sure I didn’t arrive at school without protection. He was now stipulating that I also wear thicker and more ‘odour neutralising’ diapers, plus thicker and more robust rubber pants to ensure that nothing (urine or smell) leaked out. There was also the added threat that should this not be complied with he would have no alternative but to ban me from school property. My act of rebellion had really rebounded back on me and I was forced to go to school wearing a much more noticeable diaper regime than ever before.

With the appointment at the psychiatrist rapidly approaching auntie thought it best to submit to the principal’s demands (although really we had no choice). She desperately wanted to have words with him but I begged her against a confrontation. She was well aware of what I was being subjected to on an almost daily basis but I told her it was nothing more than what half the school had to put up with all the time… it was just the way High School operated.

I’m sure this action by Mr Thomson wasn’t a callous way of putting me in my place but the result was that this previously reasonably confident fourteen year-old student was transformed in to an embarrassed waddling fourteen year-old scaredy-cat. Any self-assurance I had about wearing my protection before had been turned into something else now I had to carry a heavy and noisy display of palpable fortification around my crotch.

It had all been so different at Rainbow.

There it hadn’t mattered how big the diaper was, or who knew, or who was wearing what… you simply got on having fun. Here at High School it was an excuse for a different kind of ‘fun’ - the verbal and physical assaults were constant.

Something I couldn’t explain also happened at this time. Although I was well diapered for school, at night I only wore a pull-up as protection for bed and I was waking up dry. In fact, for seven days in a row I woke up to a dry pull-up yet had no idea why. Perhaps I was peeing so much at school from stress and heavily enforced protection that I just didn’t have anything left whilst I slept. Whatever the reason it was welcome.

On the weekend I thought I’d try sleeping without pull-ups. It was a strange feeling not having any thickness between my legs but I was happy that my PJs didn’t display a dark wet patch in the morning. Things were changing gradually and naturally although I can honestly say I wasn’t aware of the transition. My visits across the landing to the nursery had decreased except when auntie occasionally got me prepared for school there instead of my bedroom, which had become the main place for me to sleep or spend any time.

However, whenever I went into that colourful room I still got that same wonderful feeling in my stomach. It was like… it was like when I used to do cross country running in the UK. You know, after you’ve finished a particularly long and demanding bit of exercise, that moment when you slump down aching and exhausted relieved it’s all over. But soon that fatigue passes and a sense of achievement takes over so you’re pleased you’ve done what you’ve done and a touch of euphoria fills the body making everything worthwhile. It’s that kind of ecstasy I get on each visit.

Perhaps that’s only a good explanation to me.

Even though I wasn’t using the childish content of the nursery as often, I was still glad it was there. Auntie had returned the crib from her room so it looked even more ready for a group of kiddies to occupy at any moment. I knew my childish clothes hung in the closet, I knew the pile of diapers had all been used by me at some point over the last few months. I loved the smell of the powders and creams that were suspended in the atmosphere of this wonderful place. The array of patterned and cute plastic pants on view still lifted my spirits each time I saw them. A spark of excitement rippled across my nerve endings when I ran my fingers over their glossy surface - that vinyl charge was highly bewitching.

The confidence that once Rainbow gave me was now hanging heavy between my legs. Bulk was the order of the day and when Nurse Jefferson changed me – I didn’t like the idea of smelling of pee all day – she made sure everything would be absorbed by the super extra padding she slipped into my new, thicker disposable. I know she had been told exactly what to do by the principal but I’d often leave her office hardly able to waddle back to class. Any progress was slow and noisy drawing more attention to my circumstances so a barrage of ‘witty’ comments followed my every step.

I was mentally beaten. I’d tried my best to withstand the daily torment but the bravado I started out with had diminished so that I was even being picked on by the juniors who saw me as an easy target. I may have hated it at the time but the private school (uniform and all) back in the UK wasn’t so bad after all.

Oliver noticed my retreat because I didn’t even try to find his company, instead I’d try and hide away as much as I could. He wasn’t having any of it and tried to get me to respond to the non-stop taunts with clever comebacks or witty responses, neither of which I felt able to do. The anger that in the past I’d been able to summon up to repel people and their ‘personalities’ had been chipped away leaving me a pathetic version of myself.

There were moments when I thought it’s what I deserved. Why would a diaper-wearing pants-wetter warrant any better treatment?

With only a day to go before auntie and I had to meet up with the psychiatrist things at school took a turn.

Kyle and his gang had taken a back seat as they saw everyone else piling into me. Of course it didn’t stop them but they were happy that my life was being made a misery in general so didn’t seek me out for torment, although nasty things happened when we did eventually cross paths.

It was obviously something that he and his bunch of goons had been planning for some time and at lunchtime, in the big hallway where everyone was loitering before going to the canteen, Kyle struck.

Armed with a bunch of nettles and holly leaves he rammed me up against the lockers and as his two friends held my arms so I couldn’t fight back, he pulled down my baggy pants, yanked at the thick plastic covering and grabbed the back of my diaper. With a fearful grip he pulled them back to reveal my naked bottom and shoved the nettles between my skin and the material. Then he groped around the front and proceeded to do the same to my naked genitals.

All the time he was mocking my manhood, calling me a girlie and little baby, saying how much nicer my diaper would feel once I was crawling around. His mates pulled off my remaining clothes and scattered them around. Then they let me go and Kyle forced me to the ground, all the time laughing and taunting me. The majority of those watching were engrossed but still offered no help. I couldn’t see Oli or Yoosuf anywhere and all dignity left me as I felt the sting of the nettles piercing my soft flesh.

“Crawl for dada.”

It was not a cute expression; his voice was filled with undisguised vitriol. He was certainly enjoying my discomfort and inability to do anything about it. He saw me as a defeated little baby who wet and pooped itself and shouldn’t really be in the same school as a man such as he.

He mocked my screams and tears as I sat wearing just my thick and now even thicker, torturing diaper. I was utterly defeated and could only cry as he and his cronies laughed at my dejection. No one came to my aid but as a final act he lifted my face and looked straight into my eyes.

“You’re just a piece of shit,” his words were whispered but clear. “A fucking useless little baby who thinks she’s somebody but isn’t.”

I could feel the anger through his eyes and I trembled and wet myself at the same time. I didn’t know where this was going to end and as no teacher seemed to be coming to my defence I knew he could do anything he wanted without penalty… and he knew it too.

“Get back to fucking England… we don’t want a piece of effeminate crap like you around this place.”

I had no idea where all this maliciousness was coming from or why he’d singled me out but as he hissed out his disgust he was pushing down on my genitals making sure the nettles did their work.

Finally he let go laughing as if he’d just completed the best prank ever. His mates and he were high-fiving each other as they sauntered away deliriously happy with what they’d achieved.

I was stinging and hurting and wet and… and… angry.

As I slowly pulled myself up the reference to England had reawakened something which I’d been keeping locked away. The stinging nettles were somehow banished as an even greater sensation took control and, though only wearing a diaper, I launched myself down the hallway towards the posse of bullies.

Dr Jayne Barrows was a very affable woman. She was perhaps a shade younger than auntie but had a warmth and smile that radiated trust and, above everything else, competence. Both auntie and I were settled together on a white leather sofa and the doctor was sitting in an easy chair opposite. Auntie had done her own research online and knew a bit about Ms Barrows, there appeared to be some kind of mutual respect because the doctor seemed to know all about The Rainbow Rooms Nursery.

This time I desperately didn’t want my diaper to be a distraction so I was wearing normal underwear and normal clothes. No matter what happened I was determined that I wouldn’t do anything ‘silly’ and that if I needed to pee I would seek out a bathroom somewhere. I wasn’t very comfortable, though auntie had done her best to put me at ease, suggesting that perhaps a pull-up might be advantageous under my boxers.

No, I wanted to do this differently from the last time we visited a shrink and besides, I think I had more to worry about than just possibly wetting myself.

After a few minutes of general chat the doctor got down to the business in hand.

“So Dean, why did you try to suffocate Kyle Connersby?”

The anger that gripped me was like nothing else I had ever experienced. Even the time when I was banned from the boxing ring didn’t come close to what was seething in my head and my mind was only focused on one thing – revenge.

The speed that I attained as I ran down the hallway towards my victim was surprisingly fast considering I had a huge and full diaper to contend with but at that point the three were still unaware of my rapid approach. A shriek of warning came too late as I pulled back my right leg and with all the force I could muster, together with my hurtling forward momentum, I kicked out at the back of Kyle’s knee. He’d turned slightly when he heard the belated alert as my deployed rigid leg made contact and a satisfying yelp of pain followed an even more satisfying ‘crunch’.

The shock was obvious and the pain even more so as he rolled forward screaming in agony holding his injured leg. But as I got to my feet Smithy (one of his posse) was already advancing on me with a fist ready to knock my brains out. Whatever adrenalin was coursing through my body had made me quick-witted and I was able to parry his punch. As he stumbled forward to lash out once more I succeeded in using my elbow to deliver a stinging blow to his nose that made the big man stagger back in hurt surprise.

Wilko Wilkinson, his other goon, was a bit slower but had eventually managed to get his thoughts together and, seeing his team mate down and injured, launched himself at me. At that precise second Oliver inserted himself between him and me and his flailing hands managed to get caught up in the straps of Oli’s backpack, which he just happened to be holding up at that moment. Wilko’s hands were quickly entangled so Oli shoved the bag back sending the angry but confused footballer flying to the floor. It was followed through with a surreptitious kick to the groin and the warning not to get up again if he didn’t want something worse. By then he had been surrounded by other unhappy kids baying for blood. I was unaware of this and only pieced it together from what I was later told.

Now I knew boys from this particular sport were not afraid of pain but the fact that a junior had perpetrated this assault I think had not only surprised them but un-nerved them a little. Yoosuf was making sure that Smithy didn’t get up anytime soon and Oli had miraculously neutralised Wilko. Some who surrounded the fallen teammates saw this as an opportunity to assert themselves and angrily lashed out.

Where there had been a deathly hush in the hallway all hell had now broken loose not least of all as Kyle lay screaming out for assistance and holding his battered (and possibly broken) leg. Through his scrunched up and tearful face I saw the hate in his eyes as he yelled how I’d pay for what had happened but I just pulled down my full diaper and walked over to the prone and angry senior.

“Here,” I shouted over his groans of pain, “you’ve been obsessed by my diaper you may as well have it.”

I threw it into his face, nettles and all.

I followed through, launching myself bodily (and naked) across the space between us, winding him as I landed heavily on his chest.

“You’ve been desperate to get into my pants since I arrived at this awful place well, this is what’s in them, they’re now yours.”

I smeared the soaked contents into his face forcing it into his mouth as he tried to regain his breath, rubbing delightedly as I heard him choking on the contents.

It was at this moment that a teacher intervened and hauled me off the stricken star footballer.

I stood naked, hairless and unapologetic as I shook the teacher’s hands off and turned to see who it was. Yes, the one who’d made himself scarce when I was being assaulted all those months back. The look of utter contempt I gave him was withering and for a moment he was a little afraid of what might happen next.

Meanwhile, I noticed all the camera phones (that were forbidden on school property) were out and filming the proceedings so, before the authorities could do anything about what had taken place, those images were already out in the public domain… they trended rapidly.

‘Bully gets diapered’

‘Suck on this’

‘Football captain gets retrained’

Some of the headlines on social media were disgusting but the outcome was the same…

I was immediately suspended.

The weather in Kansas had only changed slightly from being very hot to being hot. However, as we sat in Doctor Barrow’s office the clouds were gathering and promised a deluge. I didn’t know if this was some kind of prediction, though I wouldn’t have been surprised. She had informed auntie not to interrupt whilst I told my side of the story and I nervously fidgeted wondering just what my fate was going to be.

After the event in the hallway, and I’d been unceremoniously marched naked to the principal’s office, I sat waiting for the furore that had blown up to die down. An ambulance arrived to transfer Kyle to hospital, whilst Nurse Jefferson had her work cut out tending to the wounds of Wilko and Smithy, not all of which had been inflicted by me. In fact I’d heard that one or two other bullies had been attacked by groups of fed-up kids inspired by my actions. Again, I had no proof it was only something Oliver mentioned when he returned some of my ripped clothes as I waited.

The principal’s secretary had ushered my friend away pretty quickly, I’m sure she was worried that we might be plotting something else. However, though I had my pants and jumper back, I felt good being naked so despite the secretary asking me to cover up I remained that way. I could hear her on the phone summoning auntie and calling one or two other families, although I wasn’t sure exactly who. A couple of teacher’s looked in with faces creased in anger and amazement, whilst the football coach screamed abuse at me for injuring his star player and threatening all manner of reprisals. I looked at him in total derision not allowing his bullying tactics to work on me. However, I kept my counsel and sat quietly not really believing what had just happened.

When things had died down a little but before auntie arrived, the principal rushed past into his office and told me to get dressed. I took no notice of him, for some reason I thought being naked was more of a statement than being clothed. When he saw that I wasn’t doing what he said he summoned the nurse to bring diapers and fit them before he would speak to me.

For the first time since I’d met her Nurse Jefferson seemed ill at ease around me. She came armed with disposables and padding but was nervous about putting them on. As she approached I looked her right in the eye and said “NO”, perhaps more forcefully than I’d intended. The result was she shuffled back out of the office as auntie arrived.

Having nodded to me on the way through, and told to put some pants on at least, she breezed into the Mr Thomson’s office, brushing aside his secretary and launched into a damning indictment of his leadership at the school.

Auntie very rarely raises her voice but she wasn’t going to allow the principal to shout her down on this one. She knew all that had previously happened because I’d told her of my run-ins with the bullies. However, she didn’t know that my actions had sent a senior to hospital so that came as a bit of a surprise. Still, even with this news she continued to harangue the principal and the culture of victimization he’d appeared to foster.

When she came out she was obviously very angry but then again, so was Mr Thomas. She saw the nurse hanging by the door with a thick disposable in her hand and looked at me, I was still naked, and asked if I needed a diaper. Surprisingly, after all that had happened, I hadn’t wet myself so shook my head.

“Thank you Nurse Jefferson but I don’t think we’ll need your services today.”

Auntie was polite.

The nurse’s look of unease drifted into a thankful half-smile as she made her exit.

“Put some pants on Dale, you’re not impressing anyone showing off your lovely little penis.”

It was a defining moment. Auntie was having a joke at my expense and we giggled together as I slipped on my pants and struggled into the jumper.

Once I’d finished this operation she hugged me tightly and ran her hand through my short hair and said it was time to go home.

“What did he say?” I enquired as we walked through the now empty hallways.

“Well, you’re suspended and I’m banned from ever setting foot in his school again.”

“But, but… didn’t he summon you?”

“Yes, well, he’s a little upset at the moment. Apparently there’s a big game coming up this weekend and they’ve lost their star player… someone has nobbled him.”

I wasn’t sure if auntie wasn’t taking this all too lightly, especially when she added.

“I think their opponents might well be sending you a gift basket.”

Dr Jayne Barrows sat stoically taking in my side of the story, occasionally writing something down on her pad but generally just listening. I was surprised just how much I opened up but I think my actions had been so severe I needed to make a case for doing what I did. I was glad auntie was there because I felt safe when she was around.

Of course, the incident wasn’t the only thing she wanted to know about and once again I found myself reliving my childhood (or lack of it).

“…and just how did that make you feel ?”

Which appeared to be the standard response to anything I said, so, I had to explain my various bursts of anger, reclusiveness and… denial.
However, after the previous psychiatrist I didn’t want to make matters worse and continued to explain my feelings and thoughts. My anger at my parents, their stupid death (which I now realised wasn’t just the result of some arbitrary bomb but that they had been targeted because of the government job they did).

At the time the powers in Washington had laid it on pretty thick that my parents had been the innocent victims of a terrorist attack. They had been on vacation and just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. However, through what auntie had told me and the number of high ranking people at their funeral I could now make a slightly different judgement about what exactly happened.

Something else that auntie had recently told me was that, via an intermediary, the ‘White House’ had offered to send me to one of the most prestigious private schools in Washington to complete my education. This had been raised at the time of the funeral but my perceived grief, hate for the British private school and auntie’s dislike of privilege made the offer a none-starter.

However, auntie had disclosed this piece of information because of the bullying and in case I wanted a way out. The fact it would mean me leaving her, something I couldn’t even contemplate, sent me once again into a bit of a panic wondering if they could just send me away without her approval. She said as my legal guardian nothing could or would be done without her say so, and more importantly, that any decision made would be down to me.

She wanted to give options.

Dr Barrows was already well briefed and knew exactly the right questions to get me going. There were times when I held auntie’s hand, cried into her shoulder as she held me so as to ease the pain. She was my strength and comfort and I loved her all the more for the emotional ride I was on and her constant unquestioning support.

At times I missed not having my diaper wrapped snugly around as I delved into some poignant aspect of my life. There were times when I had to hold back the flow that I could feel developing as I also built to some revelation or other. I excused myself a couple of time, desperate to use the bathroom and not wet the front of my khaki pants, especially not in front of the doctor.

Then, as I zipped up, glad I’d managed such a little part of my life I also realising I was missing something I liked… my diaper. It made me wonder if, after this process was complete, would I be missing everything I’d come to enjoy now. The principal thought I needed to expunge my ‘angry demons’ but I wondered – at what cost?

Fortunately, Dr Barrows seemed to understand where auntie was coming from with her initial course of action to give me a loving home and where I could experience some kind of childhood. She appeared to understand my anger and my belief that I was better off without other people. I saw on her face there was an empathy I wasn’t expecting.

She thought my wetting from an early age had been symptomatic of so much stress, self -imposed or otherwise that it bubbled (we chuckled at this use of the word for some reason) to the fore at moments of inner psychological anxiety. There may have been no obvious reason for it but deep within, there was a problem and urination was the outward expression of it, a ‘safety valve’ was the way Ms Barrows described it.

She also shared a similar opinion that Oliver had voiced; perhaps my parents deaths had affected me more than I realised. She wondered if their complete disappearance from my life subconsciously offered me a chance to “start again”.

Of course I am paraphrasing the doctor’s report because she was also damning about the culture at High School that allowed such a situation to arise. No one came out of it with any credit; well, that is, apart from auntie. Her part in my life had definitely been for the better and I was glad that she was recognised for it. However, as no local school would take me as a pupil I had to rethink the offer about going to Washington. Auntie put in a call and found a school, perhaps not so well thought of, but a private school nonetheless, in the state. With Washington picking up the bill and letters from some very important people qualifying my entrance to that establishment; I started mid-term at a new school.

The court case High School and the Connersby’s attempted to bring regarding the assault was dropped because of a counter claim my high-powered Washington legal team threatened to retaliate with. They pointed out that once they’d finished with the publicity and media coverage about how a school senior tormented and tortured a 9th grader who had incidentally just lost his parents under extremely tragic circumstances, Kyle would be lucky if he got accepted into any institute of further education. Seeing how they were out-gunned, and that I’d no longer be a pupil at the same place as he was, they felt it in everyone’s interest to forget the entire thing.

The new school was different to the one in the UK. It was less bound by its centuries of tradition, being only in existence for around fifty years, and appeared more involved in students expressing themselves in a myriad of technical and social ways. Even though I was a boarder, I never felt the constraints or unhappiness I’d experienced in the UK. I think this was because I knew auntie was relatively nearby, she was a loving beacon for me to go to if needed and she continued to be my motivation for everything I did or wanted to do.

The other thing was - I no longer wet.

However, I did miss Oliver, Gordon and Colin, the kids at Rainbow and of course not having auntie around 24/7 but we kept in touch via Skype and other media so it wasn’t too bad. Oliver had been voted as leader of the student body under the new regime that the authorities had brought in after Mr Thomson was fired. The school was changing although I wasn’t going to be there to enjoy that positive action.

Thankfully, I returned home as often as I could and head for the nursery. After I’d stripped out of my teenage gear in my room, I’d head over the my favourite colourful place and wait for auntie to change and dress me as she knew I wanted. A weekend in a thick diaper and kiddie clothes always had us both giggling in pleasure as well as it setting me up for what lay ahead.

It also made attending school as a teenager more bearable and the link with my loving Auntie Joan unbreakable.

The End

1 Like

Re: Auntie Joan Parts 1 - 13 (end)

The thing I always like about your stories is they always a clear cut beginning middle and end. This time there was a really satisfying pay off at the end.

No pressure but when you start on a new story please let us know.

Re: Auntie Joan Parts 1 - 13 (end)

  1. Another great story I can’t wait 4 ur next one Kevin? ;D

Re: Auntie Joan Parts 1 - 13 (end)

It’s good to see something productive come out of the antagonistic relationship between Dale and bullies. Even though it was a terrible experience, it was a shock that allowed him to push past the wall in his mind and finally come to terms with his trauma. Rather than be bound to his diapers due to loss of control, Dale takes the reins back in his life. Now, he regresses by choice rather than by need.

1 Like

Re: Auntie Joan Parts 1 - 13 (end)

Glad you enjoyed Dale’s experiences :wink:

A HUGE thanks to all who have taken the trouble to comment. As always it is greatly appreciated. :wink:

Wow Les. I think this is your best. God sure gave you a wonderful talent. You really now how to bring the characters to life.

Hi Marcus

I’m so pleased that you’re enjoying some of my back catalogue and I hope you enjoy more.

I can’t tell you just how much of a lift it has given me to know that there are new readers who are appreciating these tales and I’m thankful for the kind comments you’ve left.

Many thanks and happy reading
Les

Outstanding !! I was happy with Dale and was mad with Dale and then the fight back at the end was spectactular !! Then, …then I had to remind myself this is a fictional story. Well done, Well Done. Thank You for introducing us to Dale and his Aunt.

Hi Jim

Thank you so much for finding one of my older stories and an even bigger THANKS for such an enthusiastic response.

Really glad you liked it and hope you’ll find one or two of my others of interest.

Thanks again

Les

Hi Les, Loved this story. Just wanted to let you know that there was several times within the story I found the Aunt talking as if she wasn’t from some place like Kansas or even the United States. There is also something else, here in the United states, when Summer starts, School usually lets out around the same time or shortly after and is out for 3 months. As for the High School, everyone in the 9th grade is referred to as Freshman not Juniors, in fact, it is - 9th Grade = Freshman, 10th Grade = Sophomore, 11th Grade = Junior, and 12th Grade = Senior. So you don’t become a Junior until your in 11th Grade.

Anyway, other then that, I loved the story. I thought it was really just starting to get good when Chapter 12 came to an end and knew I just had 1 chapter left before it was all to end. I also felt sad to see Dean be shipped off to another boarding school. I just never understood why no one suggested homeschooling to him and his Aunt. It would allowed him to stay home and also work as fast through school as he wanted to. With his smarts, he could probably finished school a lot faster that way. He not only could have done his schooling but also enjoyed diapers whenever he wished and even gone to the Rainbow room whenever he wanted to.