Baby Dick 1-8

Baby Dick

I’m sitting in the doctor’s office stripped down to my underwear awaiting his arrival and I’m feeling cold and vulnerable. The thin cream nylon curtain that separates me and the plastic padded bed I’m sitting on from his surgery still allows me to hear him whispering to a nurse, whilst tapping away at his computer keyboard. I wish he’d hurry up and start his examination as I’m bored of looking at the blue, hygienic paper sheet that covers the bed and the rather large, scary-looking chrome implement that I can just see through the crack in the flimsy drape.

Even though I’m expecting it, the sudden noise as he pulls back the curtain makes me jump.

“Don’t be scared Michael, I’m only going to examine you.”

His words are gentle but I’m still on edge as he places a stethoscope against my chest and begins. He weighs, measures, taps, pokes, and peers into every part of my anatomy though it’s a worry when he shuffles down my underwear and cups my genitals.

I look over at mum and dad who are sitting on plastic chairs only a few feet away watching this process.

The doctor addresses them rather than me whenever he has a question or makes a comment.

“He’s very undeveloped for a thirteen year old.”

He continues the examination by feeling my penis and searching for my balls.

He looks over at my parents and tells them I may be suffering from something, but he says it in doctor-speak so I have no idea what he means. However, the word ‘micropenis’ is in there somewhere and I understand that.

Eventually he stops his prodding and poking and pulls up my underwear, which is a thick fabric nappy and tells me that I should relax. I lay out on the paper covered padded bed and he pops in a large dummy that has suddenly appeared on a ribbon around my neck. He then pulls a soft, fleecy baby blue blanket up over me and tells me again to relax whilst he speaks to my parents.

“Is there anything that can be done for him?” I hear mother say.

“An operation or drugs?” Dad adds.

“Look…. Mr and Mrs Smith… it’s perfectly simple… your boy doesn’t want to grow up. His tiny baby sized penis is him trying to tell you… he wants to stay a baby.”

“Really?” Both my parent’s chorus.

“It’s perfectly normal for a boy his age. What with the pressures of becoming a teenager… it’s too much stress, so he wants to go back to being looked after… not have to make decisions… to be without responsibilities. His baby sized penis, lack of pubic hair and his soft babyish features… well; it’s his way of telling you this.”

I’m shocked by what the doctor is saying but my nappy is hugging me tightly, the fleecy blanket is very comforting and so is sucking on my dummy. I feel myself drift off as my parents continue their discussion with my GP. #

I wake up and I’m back in my own bedroom. It’s the smallest room in the house and whilst my older brother Paul and sister Helen have larger rooms, this one suits me as it’s mine… and it’s very, very cosy. I’ve made it my fortress; with all my favourite popstar posters pinned up on the wall. My white closet and chest of drawers keep my clothes nicely stored away, whilst the shelf that runs around three of the walls hold a few books but also my favoured toys and stuffed animals (I have quite a menagerie) who look on and keep me company.

It must be getting near morning as I can see a glow around the window frame but checking the clock shows it’s not time to get up for school yet. I sigh in relief although know that this Monday is going to be a bit of a trial for me.

I lay there warm and cosy under my covers, though a sudden thought made me check myself. Thankfully, I hadn’t had an accident and my PJs were dry so I wriggled, wondering why, for the second night in a row, I’d had such a similar weird dream. #

Actually, I guess I know why - the Friday before I was walking home from school when Cuddy Cudthorpe and his gang of bullies ambushed me near the local park, bundled me through some bushes and stripped me naked. Well, not completely naked, they left me wearing a thick disposable with ‘Baby Dick’ written in thick black letters across the white material, front and back.

I tried to fight them off but five burly fifteen year olds had the upper hand, especially as I’m thirteen and a bit of a wimp, physically and mentally. Ever since it became public knowledge, well amongst the school, that I was under endowed, he’d made it his job to terrify and belittle me at every opportunity.

Of course, like most bullies, he does his nasty deeds when only he or he and his friends are present, so it’s difficult to prove any of my allegations. But it is true that I have a smaller than perhaps normal penis, certainly a great deal smaller than my older brother, unfortunately, mine had been noticed in the showers after gym and swimming lessons by my class. I got a load of ribbing from my class mates but then it got to the ears of Cuddy and since then he seemed to take great delight in never missing an opportunity of referring to me as ‘Baby Dick’.

He’s gone out of his way to leave those two words emblazoned on my locker, my books and on the walls of the toilet. Now loads of the school refer to me by that name, which has pleased him no end. However, being embarrassed at school obviously just wasn’t enough for him so he decided to go public. That’s why the attack; he wanted to publicly humiliate me, which he did. I had to walk home wearing a loose fitting, soaked diaper (I was crying and scared) and it must have made his day as he held me down and in fear began to pee myself.

He and his mates took photos, cheered about the ‘fun’ we were all having but left me crying in a heap and I still had to find my way the mile and a half home wearing what I had on and looking like I did. It was a warm afternoon but it didn’t seem to faze anyone that a boy my age should be crying and wearing a sagging nappy; although, at that time of day it was mostly school children on their way home and not many grown-ups. No one stopped to offer me help. Even other pupils from the school crossed over the road or giggled at my distress, no doubt knowing it was Cuddy’s doing and not wanting to be the next in line for his ‘practical jokes’.

When I arrived home my school uniform was strewn around the garden, everything that is apart from my underpants. I got the message - they thought I was a baby and didn’t need ‘big boy’ pants. Cuddy’d whispered this at school and also while he bundled me into my current disposable that, with a dick like mine, I should always wear nappies. #

Although more than a little traumatised there was no one else at home when I arrived so didn’t have to explain anything to anybody. I picked up my clothes and let myself in and waddled up to my room, the wet disposable sagging dangerously low as I climbed the stairs. I stood in front of the mirror and surveyed myself. My eyes were dark rings, tear-stains ran down my cheeks and yet, those two words ‘Baby Dick’ emblazoned on the now pitifully full disposable didn’t hold any horror for me. In fact, since my situation had become common knowledge, the taunting and comments had strangely made me more popular… well, perhaps what I mean is, more people knew who I was - ‘Baby Dick’.

I’d never been popular at school, not that I didn’t have friends but to be popular you had to be someone, or have done something, and that just wasn’t me. I excelled in being the very opposite of astounding.

However, back to my mirror image - I haven’t worn a nappy since I was three years old, and, although my penis hadn’t grown a great deal since, the doctors said that my small penis is just nature – some people have massive ones, others small, whilst most are just normal. Its size had never really bothered me because until the comments at school, it wasn’t an issue. However, with all the name calling and references to me being a baby I began to think more and more about what it would be like being a toddler again and not have to put up with all this aggravation… and surprise, surprise, I didn’t mind the idea.

This was probably why, in my dreams, the doctor was telling my parents my small penis was my way of saying I wanted to be a baby – that dream (and the hundred or so times a day ‘Baby Dick’ was shouted at me across the school yard) had a strange effect on me. It sort of instilled that idea deep in my conscious and subconscious.

However and here’s the strange part, I’d had similar dreams before the Cuddy incident. These last two nights hadn’t been the only ones where I was a toddler. The difference was, in the current dreams it was me insisting on being treated as a little kid. Before, in fact way before, I’d had thoughts and dreams where I was a baby, and it wasn’t just my family insisting that’s what I should be, it was everyone. These mental images would just swamp in and for a few seconds it would be like… real… but then I’d come to my senses and just get on with whatever it was I was doing… and more or less tried to ignore it all. #

I was standing still looking at myself in the mirror when I peed a little more. The full disposable warming slightly but under the extra weight finally gave up hanging on and collapsed to the floor leaving me staring at my mini penis.

To me it didn’t look that small, except in comparison to my brother Paul; who has quite a large one. I know he’s sixteen and more developed than me but he and my sister take after my father’s side of the family, whilst I take after mum. So, whereas dad is tall and strong, mum is blonde and petite and that’s who I get my slim physique and blue eyes from.

I suppose in other ways I haven’t kept up to my classmates in maturity- for instance, I still haven’t sprouted much in the way of pubic hair, my voice doesn’t appear to have broken and the things I like on TV are more likely stuff that a seven or eight year old might prefer. Oh yes, you know the menagerie I spoke about, I take it in turns sleeping with them all. I love cuddling my stuffed animals and have never once thought it odd doing so even at my age.

Mum has had me at the doctors on several occasions and tests have indicated that there is no growth problem, it will all sort itself out and that I’m quite normal, just developing at a different rate to everyone else.

Being the youngest in the family has always meant that I’m treated as the baby, someone who needs looking after. Both my brother and sister have always been very supportive and loving. As a tot I was always hopping from my bed and creeping into theirs if I got scared or had a bad dream. I was never thrown out. I remember Paul once saying he enjoyed these times because he could protect his little brother. Helen remarked that she loved it because I was like a warm, wriggly little teddy bear. Even as I’ve gotten older they seem to still think of me in this way – I’m still their baby brother. Both they and my parents are highly protective of me and I’m so glad to live in such a loving household. #

Monday and another school day; I arrived and everyone was laughing and pointing at ‘Baby Dick’. Even my close friends were smiling and nodding as if they were in on some fantastic secret. I was soon to find out what they all knew and I didn’t.

Posters of me wearing the disposable, with a very yellow front, which I’m sure had been photo-shopped, had been erected around the school yard as well as on some noticeboards in school. It took the teachers sometime to collect them all and then the inquest started.

Of course I accused Cudthorpe but he and his friends denied everything, even saying that I’d been spreading lies about them and that they wouldn’t be surprised if I hadn’t done it myself to gain some kind of notoriety. Of course no teacher believed this accusation but, without evidence one way or the other, they couldn’t go any further with mine.

However, come break time I was surprised how many people were sympathetic to my situation and thought how brave I was to remain in school. Of course there were still those who were glorying in my embarrassment but because of those who were more supportive I didn’t let them bother me as much.

There was a school full of kids now aware that I’d been wearing a nappy, whether they thought it was voluntary or not I don’t think mattered to them. So, as each passed they patted my bum to see if ‘Baby Dick’ was wearing one to school. It got pretty annoying but I was powerless to stop it. I think they were very disappointed when they couldn’t feel any padding.

“Baby Dick, why aren’t you wearing your nappy?”

Some accused as if they’d been cheated of the opportunity to see for themselves this baby in their midst.

“Baby Dick should be in a nappy” was whispered when some people passed by, other times it was hollered across the playground so ignoring it was more difficult. #

However, one boy in particular was very sympathetic; his name Quentin, Quentin Timothy Farron to be exact, who was the butt of everybody’s nastiness. He was around the same age and size as me, except where I was blond he was dark, but he’d accrued the accolade of being the school’s BIG SISSY.

“Sissy” was spat at him at every opportunity but he didn’t appear to mind, if he did he hid it well. He was gently spoken, unassuming and impeccably dressed… three points that made him definitely, as far as the rest of the school was concerned, a huge certified sissy.

Although I knew him as we were in the same class, we weren’t particular friends even though we did have quite a bit in common. Neither of us were good at sport, we couldn’t throw a ball to save our lives, and gym was a constant torture. We were scared of swimming and clung to the floats as if I lives depended on it, which as far as we were concerned it did. We were both unhappy about appearing naked (apart from swimming trunks) in public and always wrapped a towel around us when we changed. We preferred our own company but were frequently disturbed by other kids and older bullies venting their hostilities on us.

Quentin had a good way of scaring his adversaries off… he just screamed as loudly as he could until, a teacher came. Usually by then his aggressors would have run off so he was left to explain himself to the grown-ups. He would just shrug and go about his business.

When I was in a similar position I usually got verbally and physically abused… often punched by these macho bullying kids… but I stayed painfully silent and intimidated. Although few people laid a finger on Quentin, I don’t know if that was because his dad was a cop or what, but even though he was constantly being picked on, he didn’t suffer the bruises I often came away with.

Quentin Timothy Farron (or Quite The Fuckup as it said on his monogrammed school bag once) saw the wounded look on my face as everyone around was laughing at the poster-sized images of me in a disposable.

“This is awful,” he whispered as he nervously approached. “I hope those bullying cunts die.”

I was shocked by his language (it was a word I’d heard but never used and in fact I wasn’t sure what it meant). His mother was well known in the church group and his father was high up in the police force, so it came as a bit of a surprise he even knew such an expression… I thought he was just too goody-goody.

He patted my shoulder. “I hope you’ll be okay…”

And that was it as he drifted off to class.

For a bullied sissy he certainly carried himself well; no cowering, trying to hide away. He had a certain elegance; from his pristine school uniform and well-polished shoes, right through to his quiet but determined personality. He was the only one who actually seemed genuinely upset on my behalf and I appreciated his bravery in even speaking to me at that point. #

That night I wasn’t sure if word about the incident would get to my parents so I decided to get it out in the open and tell them what had happened. They were suitably angry with the victimization and the cruel ‘prank’ that had been played on me. They wanted to make a big deal about it, threatening to complain to the school and taking issue with Cuddy but I begged them to let it drop.

Paul wanted to beat Cuddy up but as much as I love my big brother, I don’t think even he would come off better between Cuddy and his gang. Cuddy was a bully but he was also an out and out thug.

All I could see was things getting worse and Cuddy being pleased with himself for thinking he was making my life a misery. He was the type of person, from that type of family, who revelled in their own controversial reputation. No one liked them, and everyone gave them a wide berth, they delighted in their notoriety.

The following day and my locker and desk were stuffed full of disposables and an assortment of baby gear. It seemed that a few ‘jokers’ had stolen their baby brother’s and sister’s trappings and loaded it on me. I nearly threw up when I discovered a shitty and soaked disposable shoved in my locker but I didn’t want to give the audience that had gathered the satisfaction.

Once again what was meant as humiliation had a very strange effect. I gathered up all the baby products (except the soiled nappy) and piled them into my locker with every intention of sorting through them at home because an idea was fermenting in my brain.

I was desperately trying to look hurt and hard done by. I attempted to appear careworn and upset by it all but the truth was, all these things had given me an opportunity; it was an opportunity I was keen to exploit.

Once I got home (I walked with friends now) I let myself in and, armed with a backpack full of baby stuff, headed up to my room. I knew it would be an hour or so before anyone else got in so I spread out the contents to examine precisely what my ‘school mates’ had left by way of a ‘joke’.

Four Disposables

One thick terry nappy

One pair of see thru plastic pants

2 Dummies

1 Rattle

Set of four large safety pins

A toy duck

And lastly a bib that had ‘Mummy’s messy girl’ written in white on a pink background (it still had the remains of some child’s meal crusted into it).

What a witty lot my fellow students were.

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Part 2

I stood pondering for a little while, wondering if at thirteen what I was planning on doing was a good or bad idea.

There was no doubt about it, certain things had been buzzing around in my head for some time now. Whether this was made more apparent because of the ‘Cuddy incident’, or because that merely seemed to confirm something else, I wasn’t too sure. What I did know was that the last few dreams I’d been having all pointed to me wanting to wear a nappy… to be a baby.

Oddly, this desire didn’t seem to be that much of a ‘big deal’ to me. Although I hadn’t worn a nappy since I’d been potty trained, my dreams indicated that I wasn’t averse to the idea. Indeed, it could be argued (possibly) that I’d simply been putting off the inevitable.

I stripped out of my school clothes and stood for a few moments naked in front of the mirror. I ran my hands over my soft juvenile body and cupped my balls. I have small hands so my genitals felt the right size; warm, smooth and soft resting in my palm. I ran my other hand over my bottom and turned slightly to see what I looked like. It was as if I was looking at myself for the first time with any degree of judgement. In the past it was simply my body and though I lived with it, I had never either inspected it or given it much thought… but now?

When I mentally conjured up thoughts of my friends at school I could see the difference in our developments, or rather, my lack of such. Kevin, my best mate, although the same age as me was hairy, well-developed and very much a boy; I, on the other hand, was very much an underdeveloped version of myself and still maintained the supple outline of a child. Perhaps surprisingly, my small, immature physique didn’t worry me… it was just the way I’m made but, nagging away in some dark recess, was an urge… and an urge I was about to explore.

I reached for the terry towel square and folded it like I thought was appropriate. I had never done this before so it was only through having seen such things done on TV that I thought I had an idea about how these things worked. I lay it out on my bed and grabbed a couple of the pins. Pulling it up between my legs I thought the material felt quite rough and couldn’t really imaging a baby liking such a thing pinned around its bits and bobs.

I suddenly thought how much more comfy the one I was forced to wear by Cuddy just a few days earlier had been. Despite the trauma at the time I was now comparing that scary and forced incident onto what I was doing myself. It felt really odd, even briefly, to be thinking in such a way but the forced disposable felt a lot softer than the fabric one I was trying to fit into.

Eventually, after several unsuccessful attempts, I finally managed to pin it into place. The material felt coarse but, as I lay on the bed, my reflection looked fine. I sat up and slowly waddled over to the mirror for a better inspection. There was no huge bulkiness to it, although I thought the big pins made it look suitably childish, but was very loose and immediately sagged around my hairless knees.

I bent down and shimmied it back up my thighs, grasping tightly to the material and wondering how to make it stay up.

“The plastic pants help hold it in place.”

It was Helen my sister at my bedroom door. Obviously I’d been daydreaming for longer than I’d thought and time had simply slipped by without noticing.

I was a little stunned to hear her words, and although I was slightly anxious at what she might be thinking, I really wasn’t that worried about her discovering what I was doing.

“I’m not sure I want that…” I said as I ran my hands over the fabric, “these feel really rough.”

She came up behind me and looked at all the items laid out on the bed.

“More stuff left by the school jokers…” I tried to explain.

She nodded and examined the plastic pants.

“Not sure if these will fit but…”

She picked them up and stretched them as wide as they’d go and spread them out for me to attempt to climb into.

They were tight but she shuffled them up my legs and the nappy was gripped firmly and held in place. It was as if she thought a nappy wasn’t a strange thing to see me dressed in.

She stood back and inspected her handiwork.

“Mmmm, not sure…” she smoothed them out and pushed any of the exposed material behind the plastic cover. “Well, are they comfortable?”

It didn’t even occur to me that Helen had not found any of this process strange. She had seen I needed help and simply pitched in as she’d always done if I was in difficulties or needed a problem solved.

She stood behind me and we saw each other in the mirror. Even though she was only a couple of years older than me, she looked so much more mature. I was smaller than her and, with her youthful breasts more than adequately filling the front of her school blouse she looked like a girl bursting into womanhood. On the other hand, the image that stared back at me was that of an immature boy who didn’t look out of place wearing a nappy.

The thing was, at that moment, and with my big sister in charge, I wasn’t unhappy about my situation.

“I guess all this has something to do with last Friday?” She whispered in my ear.

I nodded but added. “Yes but, erm, well, it’s something more… I mean…” I shrugged suddenly unable to voice my concerns.

“What is it Mikey… you know you can talk to me about anything.”

It’s true I could. In fact, our family didn’t like secrets and more especially didn’t like to see anyone suffer if they could help.

My head was a jumble of things to say, though I’m not certain if I could have put it into any semblance of thought.

Was I trying to reclaim my independence by showing ‘them’ that they couldn’t intimidate me?

Was I using ‘their’ joke back against them by wearing it to prove their little japes had no effect?

What was the reason…?

“Well,” I pointed to my reflection again, “what do you see?”

Helen smiled, “Just my favourite little brother.”

She hugged me.

“Exactly… little… L.I.T.T.L.E. I’m not growing up…”

“But you will Mikey; we all grow at different speeds and…”

I know she was trying to be sympathetic but that wasn’t what I wanted to say to her.

“Helen, that’s not it. I… I… erm… I… ummm…”

She waited patiently whilst I got my thoughts into some kind of order.

“Erm… when Cuddy and his friends forced me into that disposable… umm… although I was terrified by it all…errr… when I thought about it… ummm… it wasn’t so… bad.”

I was watching Helen in the mirror to see how she reacted to what I was saying.

She sighed and then ran her hand over my plastic pants.

“Are you saying that you think you might like… this?”

“I don’t know. What I do know is that for quite some time now I’ve… I’ve felt like Peter Pan… you know… never gonna grow up.”

“Has it been worrying you?”

“Well, erm, what has been worrying me is that I’m thinking about it all the time.”

As I was saying this I could hear “Baby Dick”, “Baby Dick”, “Baby Dick” being chanted in my head.

“I don’t know what to say Mikey.”

Nor did I. All I really knew was that Cuddy making me wear what he did seemed somehow to make sense. Although I cried all the way home and was embarrassed by the event… it wasn’t the actual nappy that caused it. It may have been the realisation about me.

I looked down at my feet in shame at what I’d just told my sister and I could see my toes awkwardly curling up in the carpet. The dreams I’d been having recently also filled my head and all I could think about were the doctor’s words “He wants to be a baby.” At that same moment, and totally unannounced, I felt a spurt of pee shoot into the front of my nappy.

Where that action came from I have no idea although seconds later remembered that I’d peed in the disposable last Friday without giving it much thought.

I felt my nappy grow warm and there was no disputing what I’d done as the front of the coarse fabric began to absorb the liquid and turn a slight off-yellow colour.

Helen looked on astonished.

“Oh Mikey… have you just wet yourself?”

With a shiver of recognition I just sadly nodded.

“Did you realise…”

I shrugged my shoulders and shook my head.

Ever practical, my sister was immediately on the ball.

“Look, you can’t stay wearing this…” Again she stroked the front of my slippery plastic pants. “You aren’t wearing any nappy rash cream and if you stay in it too long it will begin to irritate.”

Those nights of babysitting the neighbour’s kids were really paying off.

She was already pulling the tight-fitting plastic pants down and with them came my soaked nappy.

I was like a statue – I just let it happen. I was too stunned to say or do anything but Helen eased me out of the wet things and grabbed a towel from on top of my drawers. She wiped me down and sent me off to the bathroom to sponge myself clean.

When I arrived back Helen had found some cream and powder and had a disposable unfurled and ready for me.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” I said in a quiet voice as I peered out from behind the thick towel I was drying myself on.

As usual my sister was determined and matter-of-fact.

“Mikey,” she raised her eyebrows so I knew she meant business. “You appear to be going through some strange shi… er… problems at the moment and if you don’t even realise when you piss your pants, you need to take some precautions until you can work out…”

“No, no I’ll be okay it’s just…”

“You’re not okay Mikey. Something is happening in your head and until you… or we… can work out what it is… you need to stay protected.”

By this time she’d taken me by the arm and led me over to the bed where everything was laid out.

“So, for the time being at least let’s get you sorted so we have some degree of control…”

She didn’t finish what she was saying as a look of determination came over her face and started rubbing cream into my tiny penis and balls. This was followed by a blanket of powder (which had me giggling there was so much of it) and finally she taped the disposable into position.

Feeling the soft thick disposable being pulled up between my legs reminded me of when Cubby and his mates had done the same – thankfully, there were no slaps or punches. Helen was much gentler. However, the fit was a lot tighter and I could get up off the bed without feeling it was going to fall down at any moment… also I wasn’t crying.

She tossed me my pyjamas and indicated I should put them on and even though it wasn’t yet 6pm, I did as suggested.

Luckily my pjs were fairly loose and the bottoms easily pulled over the slightly more bulky underwear. However, there was no denying the bulge that now occupied that area. Whereas my usual small genitals hardly produced a tiny lump, now with the padding I’d gained a profile of some distinction.

Yep, the baby padding had given me a bulge where I hadn’t had much of one before; I snickered to myself at this apparent contradictory revelation.

Meanwhile she was ploughing through the rest of the items I’d brought home.

She tossed aside one of the disposables and the dirty bib.

“These will be way too small.”

She shrugged as she checked the toys and dummies but after looking at the array of stuffed animals surrounding the room tossed them back on the bed.

She picked up the wet nappy and plastic pants and said: “These will need washing and you’ll need a bit more padding so that it doesn’t feel so rough.”

I shrugged and nodded, I wasn’t sure what to think but I quite liked my reflection – standing in just my pjs with the obvious lump at my crotch. I ran my hand over it and it felt so smooth; I was grateful for that soft, yet flattering, large bulge.

Helen watched as I teased the fabric under my pjs and in all honesty I was enjoying the surprising comfort it offered. I stroked my padded backside and loved the squashy cushion that now made up my rear.

“Helen, is it wrong… you know… to… ermmm… like…”

“Mikey, we all like different things… I can’t say how mum and dad will react but…”

I pulled my pyjama bottoms down and looked more closely at the way Helen had fastened the disposable. I liked the way the tapes dragged the material in tightly over my tummy, I liked the smoothness of the white, shiny, plastic-looking fabric holding me in such a comfortable embrace.

My head was full of strange thoughts. Was all this baby stuff from school planned? Was I being led into a state of mind I had no control over? Was I letting my imagination run away with itself?

There was no denying liking what I was seeing in my reflection. My small frame seemed to compliment the disposable and a sense of the inevitable shuddered through my body. Why was I so happy about all this?

The nappy and plastic pants had looked good to me but this looked better. I wondered if plastic pants would improve the look but as Helen had them in her hand, and they were on their way to be washed, I didn’t get a chance to check. However, I was very pleased with what I was wearing and couldn’t stop stroking myself and watching my mirror image. The expression on my face was one of wonder and pleasure.

Helen watched my reaction for a few seconds before adding.

“When everyone is home you need to tell them your thoughts and what’s happening to you.”

I looked her in disbelief.

“Can’t I just…?”

“Look Mikey, this…” and she indicated not only my padded outline but the rest of my room, “is who and what you are now” She paused before she went on. “But, you might feel different in a week, maybe a month or so… and I think you’ll appreciate the family being with you on whatever you decide.”

My sister speaks so much better than my mind works. I’d never be able to find the correct words. I’m hopeless at getting my point of view over even in class. I just tend to go along with what everyone else decides but, this was about me and I’d never got anything less than total support from my family. Of course I wasn’t going to argue with Helen; I didn’t argue with anybody, I’d do as I’m told.

“I’m off to start making dinner… mum and dad will be home in half an hour,” She heard the door slam downstairs. “Sounds like Paul’s home … I’ll put these on to wash as well” She said as she exited the room waving my wet nappy.

I was alone with my reflection. I saw the rattle on the bed and was drawn to it. I’m not sure why a baby should find such entertainment in the noisy thing but after a couple of shakes I grew board.

I picked up a dummy and wondered about trying that out. It looked clean enough but I had no idea where it had been so passed on that for the time being. However, surprisingly I found as I was looking around and thinking I was sucking my thumb.

I lay out on my bed and found it incredibly easy to relax; there was definitely something about wearing a nappy that made me feel ‘different’. I sucked my thumb more, closed my eyes and just let go. Without any effort on my part I filled the front with a slow warming pee before I drifted off to sleep.

Mum was home first and Helen had a quick chat explaining what she’d discovered with Michael.

“I think that incident last week with the school bullies has had more of an effect than he’s letting on.”

“Really dear, why do you say that?” She replied whilst taking off her coat and hanging it up in the hallway.

She told her about the conversation and what Mikey had said then beckoned her upstairs to see for herself.

She was surprised to see her youngest, fast asleep, with his thumb slick between his lips and wearing what was obviously a disposable peaking over the top of his jammy bottoms.

After what she’d just been told she was shocked but her heart went out to him.

“Poor little mite… he looks so vulnerable.”

“Yes,” Helen slipped her finger under his waistband, “and he’s wet again.” #tbc#

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[red]ADMIN NOTE[/red]
I’m not naming names, but the next person who tags this thread as “Deekeresque” is going to lose their tagging privileges. Enough is enough.

Oh yes another case of people looking at the title without reading the story I take it. I must also say I find it ironic since we were talking about the forbidden site in the chatroom for a little bit yesterday.

Also, I must admit I am kinda of hypocrite in this department because I had to stop myself from saying some dick jokes. However, then I found out the character was 13 years old and that killed all of them.

Les Lea, I was wondering are you going to continue this story at all? For the 2 chapters that are written they are written well (if people take the time to read them properly).Mikey has some Soul searching to do and so does his family. What I want to know is how his parents haven’t noticed his lack of development and booked an appointment with his GP sooner?

I have to say that I’m a little shocked (I had to look up who Deeker was).
I’m not sure what part of Baby Dick is the offending piece, and I apologise if I’ve given vent to people think it’s aimed a ‘Deekeresque’ market.
Nappies are nappies for all to enjoy but I shall curtail this storyline if many are complaining… I really don’t want to upset anyone.

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There is no need to curtail anything about your story. I read stories from the site of he who must not be named years ago because at the time it was unfortunately the only diaper story site of its kind. I can definitely say that a lot of their stories were far far worse then anything you have written on here. So you just kerp on writing the way you intended and tell all the people saying such things to excuse my French… Go Fuck themselves.

Your Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman


@Les Lea Honestly, this story does have some tropes to it that were quite popular in the stories posted on Deeker’s site, but nothing that crosses the line and is against the rules. If it does get to that point (which is unlikely in your case) then I’ll let you know.

The individuals who were abusing the tagging were just doing it to be asses. At least two of them have been put on moderated posting for trolling authors who write stories with gay characters. In fact one of the two is now banned from here for that very reason.

@Spiderman He can be named, seriously. We’re not a bunch of children nor are we witches and wizards in fear of our lives. His name is Deeker, use it.

Also, as several people have mentioned this to me privately in the last few days, can you maybe add Your Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman to your signature instead of manually putting it in every post? That way those who don’t want to see signatures don’t have to :wink:


Makes me want to write a story with as many gay characters as possible if for no other reason then tweaking the noses of these aesehats

Sorry about not using his name. I didn’t do it because I felt people here were a bunch of children. It is because on all the diaper sites I was on the word “Deeker” was censored so I couldn’t type it ( in particular the most recent one I ran away from Daily Diapers you can’t say it anywhere on the site). So if I had to talk about that monster and his site I always just refered to him as he who must not be named. I did it for so many years it is just rammed into my brain to say it that way.

Now as for the signature I have no excuse for that since I have done it on previous sites. I will get that fixed right away my lady.

Thanks for all the support.

Here is Chapter 3

Part 3

“Wake up honey.”

I hadn’t realised I’d dropped off yet here was mum smiling down and encouraging me to ‘wake up’.

“Oh sorry, must have dozed off.” I mumbled an apology. “What time is it?”

“It’s not late but,” she patted my padding, which I suddenly grasped I still had on and was wet. “I think we need to sort something else out first.”

I looked across at Helen wondering if she’d said anything. She was just smiling and nodding in an encouraging way.

Mum’s voice was pleasant, she didn’t appear cross or anything, but I think she could tell I was a bit embarrassed and worried.

I was left wondering… I wasn’t sure what to make of this development. However, there was no concealing the fact I was wearing a wet nappy.

I wasn’t sure if mum meant me to go down as I was or change and then go down but my thoughts were a little cockeyed so I thought I’d better get a move on and go as I was.

I arrived at the table where mum, dad, Helen and Paul were already seated. I hung nervously in the doorway not sure what to say or do but dad just smiled and told me to come and take my seat.

I did but crinkled as I sat down and was sure someone was going to laugh… in fact they all did but it wasn’t mocking laughter, more a ‘share your joke’ type of thing.

“Well son,” dad started, “this is quite a development.”

Mum took up the discussion.

“You’ve had a terrible few days sweetheart, and we all know it must be very disturbing and, we want to support you in any way we can…”

“I’d like to beat the crap out of him…”

“I don’t think violence is the answer”. Mum and dad said as one but my brother held his defiance.

Mum continued. “We can see it’s had an effect on you.”

I wriggled in my thick wet disposable which crinkled softly now I was sat on it.

“Mum, dad,” I looked around the table, “there’s, erm, um, more to it than Cuddy and his gang.”

I knew this next bit of the conversation was going to be hard but I was desperate to get it out of the way before mum started bringing food to the table. Besides, I’d been thinking about it for some time even if I hadn’t realised it… the dreams?

  • [I]The dreams had planted a thought. [/I]
  • [I]The dreams had been most definite. [/I]
  • [I]The dreams showed the way.[/I]
My small, undeveloped penis (my baby dick) was making itself known. The dream in the doctor’s office wasn’t a one off, similar dreams had plagued me for many months, and I just hadn’t grasped what they were trying to say.

Meanwhile, as if to make itself more noticeable, my tiny member had been observed and commented on in the gym changing room, had been cartooned in the boy’s toilets, had appeared graphically on my school books and then Cuddy and his mates made sure I knew everyone else knew what they knew - I was a baby pretending to be a teenager.

How such a bully knew before I did I’m not sure but one thing was for sure – I didn’t disagree with that assessment? The punches, trips and kicks followed me around, as if I was being told it would only stop when I admitted my failing – Yes, I was a baby pretending to be a teenager.

It was as if my willy, my micro-penis, was mocking me for wanting to be anything other than a sweet, loving little baby who needed to wear a nappy rather than a pair of underpants… they were for Big Boys.

Cuddy had whispered as much as he and his gang had stripped me and laughingly ripped off my briefs and replaced with a disposable.

“There, that’s much more appropriate,” he said through a sly but vicious grin.

“That’s what a baby should be wearing.”

He couldn’t help but adding to the amusement of his friends.

“My baby brother has more of a dick then you… and he’s three months old.”

Although the slaps to my belly that followed hurt, now I was wearing a nappy, they didn’t seem to carry the same intensity. I don’t know why but I think it was the group all taking shots of me with their phones that upset me the most. As it turned out, I was right to be worried about those photos.

My family looked on as I searched for the correct words. I wriggled in my soaked nappy thinking… this is what I deserve, this is who I am… this is… this is… I couldn’t finish my thoughts as, without any help from me, more warm golden pee flowed in to my nappy as if to confirm everything I was thinking.

“Errrr, erm… I’ve always been the baby of the family.” There were smiles of acknowledgement from everyone, “but sometimes I feel…” there was a pause before I could go on. “I want it to stay that way.”

I’d come this far but was now lost for words as to where to go with my whispered confession.

“Is that why you’re wearing the nappy?”

It was dad’s voice but surprisingly he didn’t sound angry like I’d expected.

I nodded shame-faced. I couldn’t look at anyone now and cast my eyes down to the saggy bulge I was sitting in - at that moment it was most unappealing.

After a moment’s silence Paul piped up in a soothing voice.

“Should we treat you differently?”

“Do you need us to treat you more as a grown-up… have we all been treating you as our little boy too much?” This was mum’s enquiry.

“Mum, Dad,” Helen had the room and looked across at Paul, “I don’t think it’s any of that. I think Mikey likes the way we treat him but wants… more of…erm, ummm, how it used to be.”

There was silence around the table as her words were digested.

I didn’t dare break the silence but thought it was up to me to say or do something.

“Mum, dad,” I looked to my brother and sister, “I like wearing nappies… they make me feel… loved… safe.”

“Ohh sweetheart,” mum soothed, “we love you loads…”

“Yes I know,” I interrupted, “I love you all as well but, well, a nappy adds… I can’t explain it but, erm, um, I just like the feeling it gives me.”

I now couldn’t look at any of my family I was wondering if they thought I was mad.

It was dad who spoke next and his response surprised me.

“Mikey, you’ll always be the baby of the family,” he grinned, “there’s no way out of ever being anything but the youngest. We are a family who likes, loves and supports each other all the time. Your mother and I only want the best for our kids.”

He looked around the table.

“But, and this is perhaps paramount… we want you all to be happy and… providing it hurts no one else, family or otherwise, you’ll always get our backing.”

He looked to mum for agreement.

“If wearing nappies in some way makes your life better… we’d rather you lived it openly and happily rather than being secretive and ashamed… so… if it’s what you want… what you need… then back to nappies it is for our little boy.”

I was shocked at how dad reacted and I daren’t look to see how the others had but then there was going to be a lot of discussion, chat and no doubt disagreement over the next few days.
How was this going to work?

Mum must have read my mind.

“Okay, before we get into the whys and wherefores… let’s eat.”

The meal started off in a subdued mood. I wasn’t sure what to say and I’m not sure anyone else did either. I was very aware of the tiniest movement I made there was a crinkle and squishy noise, which eventually brought the first ‘baby’ comment from Paul.

“Would you like me to cut that up for you?”

I could see he was gauging the reaction of the family.

I wasn’t struggling with the rather nice cheese and courgette pasta mum had made so I just grinned back.

There was definitely some uneasiness around the table but Paul just looked up and said “What?”

He then continued. “If we don’t know the parameters, how can we deal with what Mikey wants? So, did you find me asking that question funny or demeaning?”

He was addressing me so I just grinned sheepishly and said “Funny.”

“Good because that’s how it was intended. I love my little brother and I don’t want to subject him to any aggravation but I’m not sure how far we… sorry… he wants us to go.”

This was what was needed and over the meal we spent a lot of time discussing just how much of a baby I wanted to be. Mum and dad both said I’d still have to go to school as that was the law but, if I wanted to wear a nappy under my uniform… that was fine.

It felt really strange sitting at the table eating and chatting whilst squishing around in my soaked nappy but I suppose there was a lot to discuss. I think my sogginess had all but been forgotten as the various subjects were brought up…

“Wake up honey.”

I hadn’t realised I’d dropped off yet here was mum looking down and encouraging me to ‘wake up’.

“Oh sorry, must have dozed off.” I mumbled an apology. “What time is it?”

“It’s not late but…” she patted my padding, which I suddenly grasped I still had on and was wet… and I was still in bed.

Oh no! I thought. I’d just dreamed my situation. Nothing has been resolved, my family aren’t on-board with my desire and I’m wearing a particularly soggy nappy which, looking up at mum, she’s none too pleased about.

“Mum, erm…”

“Downstairs now.” She ordered.

“But I’m wet… I…”

“Downstairs now and be quick about it… and… just as you are.”

“But, but, but…”

“No buts… NOW.”

Reluctantly, and now a little scared, I dragged myself from my nice warm bed but in so doing, noticed the bed sheets were a little damp. The sogginess of my nappy made it drag down my pyjama bottoms, I didn’t want to be seen like this but mum’s tone told me not to disobey her instructions. Holding my saggy nappy up with one hand I ventured down stairs and into the kitchen where the family were gathered for the evening meal.

I stood at the kitchen door feeling very conspicuous… this was not the way I wanted to introduce me and nappies to the family.

To begin with I don’t think dad or Paul had any idea what was up. Helen of course was well abreast of my feelings and mum was simply confused by them. So, it was with extreme embarrassment I saw realisation dawning on the male members of the family.

“Are you wearing I [/I]a wet nappy,” Paul asked slightly incredulous.

Shamefully I nodded.

“Has that twat Cuddy made you do it again? I’ll swing for that bastard…”

“Now, now… let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Mum was warning Paul but looking at me. “There may well be a rational explanation for all… this.”

The expectation around the table was unmistakable, then I realised they were waiting for me to say something.

I wriggled uneasily in my squelchy nappy and thought I’d tell them about my day.

“Because the entire school is now aware of me being forced in to a nappy…”

“Thanks to that bastard…” Paul was silenced by a look from mum.

“My school ‘friends’,” I did the universal ‘air quotation marks’ as I spoke the word friends, “my locker and everywhere I go is decorated with baby stuff.”

I looked around to see what impression my words were making but I hadn’t got to the good bit yet; why I was wearing a wet nappy?

“Anyway, not only were their words reminding me of my small penis… erm… they’d left nappies and stuff around… and seemed hell-bent on getting me to wear them.”
It was awful having to confess the next bit.

“So, I brought all the stuff they’d left in my locker and around the place home and thought I’d do just that.”

“Ohh Mikey…” Mum seemed to have some sympathy.

Because in my dreams my parents had been at the doctor’s office and knew about the ‘micro penis thing and according to him was a sign of wanting to be a baby I thought they already knew about my worries. Of course they had no idea what I was talking about, or how effected I was by the dream and then by Cuddy and then by everyone else at school getting in on the act.

“The thing is… with them all telling me it’s what I should be wearing, (Baby Dick has become a school chant when I’m around) and, er, ummm, some dreams I’ve been having for quite some time…” Now it was confession time. “It didn’t seem a strange thing for them to expect because, well, I’d already considered I should.”

“What dreams, what…?” Dad wasn’t sure of any of this. However, I noticed Helen and she looked like she was approving of my continued account.

This wasn’t going as well as I’d dreamt so I decided to explain to the rest of the family exactly as I’d told Helen earlier… about feeling little.

Thankfully, the meal hadn’t been served and they listened to my ramblings with the occasional nod, cough and associated question. For the benefit of Paul I explained that although Cuddy’s attack had been awful, the disposable with Baby Dick written on it was the least of what worried me.

In fact, my small penis, which everyone around the table tried to assure me was only temporary, or might grow eventually, was the catalyst to all my doubts and fears and I was trying to understand (or make excuses) for the way I felt.

After I’d finished and looked around at my family I couldn’t read anyone’s opinion apart from Helen’s, her comforting hand was touching mine.

“So, you think you’re little so therefore you want to be treated as little, a toddler, a…” Mum ran out words as to exactly what she thought.

Dad tried. “So, I’m not sure what you expect from us all. Personally, if you want to wear a nappy that’s up to you but, and this is a big but,” Paul couldn’t help himself and sniggered at the thought of a big butt, “it’s going to be a lot of work on your part.”

I liked the way dad was speaking… well to begin with at least.

“Firstly; if you do decide to wear nappies, then they will be your responsibilities. I don’t see why your mum, or the rest of us, needs to be involved in changing or washing extra dirty linen.”

This wasn’t what I wanted, I didn’t want any responsibilities but when I thought about it, why should everyone else give in to my strange desires? I had expected mum to wash my dirty fabric nappies and hang them out to dry and keep a supply coming. I had expected her to rinse through my plastic pants and…

“I can just about understand why you want what you want,” mum was saying, “but we want you to be the thirteen year old you are not a soggy little toddler.”

She said the last bit with a pleasant smile.

“You may be growing up slower than you feel you should but, you are growing up and I’d hate to think we held back your development for even one second.”

I don’t know why I’d just assumed everyone would be on-board with my nappy desire but this discussion was making me think; what exactly did I want out of this and was it something I could do myself?

As we sat, ate and discussed the subject the saggy disposable began to slightly irritate me. I wriggled around trying to get comfortable. Thankfully mum noticed and asked if I might be getting a nappy rash. She’d finished eating (I had a while back) and suggested we go up, check and get changed, she wanted to see how I coped if I was left to my own devices.

The disposable was very wet and had become a bit lumpy in parts so I was glad to get rid of it. Mum sat on the bed watching as I removed it then inspected the damp area to see if I had in fact got a rash – I had. She pointed out the red area and explained about why having urine next to my skin, without protection, could be a problem. She went off and returned with a warm wash cloth and tubes of something I wasn’t sure of.

Once I’d been cleansed to her satisfaction she went on about the various advantages to certain creams, lotions and powders and all the time I was just standing in front of her naked. I don’t think I’d spent so much time bare, certainly not recently or in front of mum, as she pointed out the areas I had to be meticulous about.

She then squirted some stuff from a tube onto her fingers and began to thoroughly rub it into the slightly inflamed areas. She’d also brought a tub of Vaseline and applied a thick coating of that all around explaining why this was beneficial if I was wearing a nappy.

I suddenly felt myself slipping back to when this was normal. Mum explaining things whilst I got my nappy changed. Despite her saying she wanted me to grow up naturally, at that moment I felt like the little boy I wanted to be – I hugged her tightly and started to cry.

“Ohh… poor baby,” she whispered soothingly in my ear as she patted my sticky naked bottom. “I know it’s been a hell of a time for you recently. I’m not sure if wearing a nappy will be useful but… if you think you need it… let’s get you in one.”

I think she thought my tears were because I was upset but in fact they were tears of joy because of the way I felt. Mum was giving me exactly what I wanted and even if it was only going to last this once, I was grateful to mum for her love. I hugged and kissed her cheek in thanks.

I am an affectionate little tyke but I think it took mum by surprise just how intense my feelings were. I watched excitedly as she fluffed out the disposable and checked she had it the right way round. By the time she’d finally tightened the tapes together on one of my ‘gifted’ disposables I was smiling like toddler with a new toy. The pyjamas I had been wearing were soaked and she was obviously looking around for further protection.

“Do you have any plastic panties sweetie?”

I explained about Helen taking stuff to be washed, so she told me to stay as I was and she’d be back in a moment.

She returned carrying the plastic pants.

“She hadn’t got around to washing these yet…” she pulled them up over my nappy, “but I think there’s less chance of leakage if for tonight at least we keep you safe and water tight.”

It felt strange. What I mean is that mum putting me in a disposable and being so attentive, it felt right and I was very comfortable. The plastic pants gripped tightly and glowed in the daylight as they strained to cover the thick material.

“Ohhh you’ll need some other plastic pants love… these are too tight they’ll cut off your circulation.”

Although they looked good I had to agree that they were pinching my legs and waist and I was glad when she eased them off.

“For tonight you’ll just have to make do with wearing a…”

She obviously had another idea and went to the bathroom and returned with a small hand towel. She folded it to make extra padding then slipped it in the disposable and re-taped me in.

The padding was huge and it was early yet so I’d have to wear only this massive bundle until bedtime. I suppose I couldn’t complain, having asked to be treated as a toddler to then be treated as a toddler.

“That should prevent too many leaks for tonight at least. I’ll get you some plastic panties for tomorrow night.”

“Thanks mum.” I whispered as I pecked her cheek.

Once I was in a clean and fresh nappy, and even though it was quite bulky, I did feel an awful lot more contented.

I wondered around the house as I was and got smiles from Big Bro and Sis and a shrug from dad, he still wasn’t too sure what to make of my sudden yearning. However, by the time bedtime did come around, so had dad. In fact, it was he who came up and chatted and tucked me in and no mention was made of my nappy being strange… it was just a normal family night.


Part 4

In the morning I was extremely wet but realised I’d have to see to myself as no one had volunteered to change me. As I waddled to the bathroom mum noticed and said that it was fine for me to wear what I liked at home but suggested that for school I wear something more appropriate to my age. I hadn’t been planning on wearing a nappy to school, I thought it would be just too inconvenient, but with mum’s words ringing in my ears there was no doubt I’d be wearing my white briefs under my uniform… they were similar to what about 50% of the boys wore anyway.

Once at school I was still getting comments but the novelty of the poster campaign, and the vigilance of the teachers, had calmed things down. It wasn’t until last period that, as I walked from one classroom to the next past the boy’s toilets, that I was accosted by Archie Simmons. Archie was one of Cuddy’s nastier henchmen, some sort of demented cousin who most teachers were scared of and who dragged me forcefully into the empty room.

Toilets, especially boy’s toilets, have a particular smell and a foreboding atmosphere at the best of times but being held by the lapels by this brute really scared me and I knew any scream for help wouldn’t be answered. It was a generally known fact that if Cuddy and his gang was inside… the toilet was the last place you wanted to be so had the place to themself.

Over some time he’d managed to make the boy’s washroom a ‘no go’ area for teachers who used to check in on them to make sure there were no smokers or anything untoward going on. He’d complained about some innocent teachers hanging around the toilet and complained to the headmaster that he didn’t think it right that perverts should be employed by the school. The ructions that caused meant that he and his gang had free reign when it came to occupying the toilet block with little or no supervision from a patrolling teacher.

He smiled a most cruel smile and with a cold stare that would instantly solidify steam he said that Cuddy had noticed I wasn’t wearing a nappy, even after he’d gone to such lengths to provide me with one. That kind of disrespect could only lead to some “…unpleasant consequences” (I thought Cuddy must have given him the line because I knew he wasn’t capable of coming up with such a phrase) and that in future I’d be expected, as per Cuddy’s instructions, to wear what a Baby Dick should wear in the company of grown-ups.

“A fuckin’ nappy.”

His threat was chilling but the fact that I didn’t get punched at the end of it (he just sort of rearranged my lapels as if he was doing me a favour smartening my clothes up), left me a jittering wreck. This was a new move; no violence just verbal menaces that left you in no doubt as to the consequences of inaction.

However, I thought I’d got off pretty leniently because Archie had a reputation of hitting first and then not bothering to ask the question… that was until I felt the warm glow around my crotch and noticed the wet stain grow. I’d been so terrified my bladder had reacted to the threat. I couldn’t spend any more time in the toilet but splashed some water all down my front. It looked like I’d been caught in a rainstorm by the time I got to class but my excuse of a faulty tap was accepted by the teacher, although there were comments of disbelief from some of my classmates.

“Looks like he really needs a nappy,” I heard being whispered between some of the lads.

By the time I got home I was almost dry and as I stripped off in my room I saw that my pristine white briefs were now a mucky pale orangey colour. It was quite weird really because such a stain in my nappy never produced the disgust I felt at that moment… and I wondered how I’d get mum to let me wear nappies to school. Not that I was scared… I was terrified if I didn’t comply. I didn’t know what to do next, whether to try and find an alternative, use what had been left in my locker or beg mum to get me some disposables. I slipped into a pair of gym shorts and set about doing my homework.

I think mum sensed that something was wrong when she called me down for tea. I’d not spoken to anyone other than a grunt of acknowledgement when Helen asked if I was okay. However, mum came in and noticed my dirty briefs and guessed I’d had an accident. I didn’t tell her what really happened but said that I’d just left it too late to get to the loo and…

I said I was sorry but she had a package with her and opening it up revealed she’d bought me several fabric nappies and plastic pants, plus all the creams and lotions that I associated with having to wear a nappy.

“These,” she said displaying everything on my bed, “are for when you’re feeling little and need the comfort of a nappy.”

She was very matter of fact.

“I’ll help you put them on to begin with but you’ll have to learn yourself because I don’t intend on doing it forever.”

I nodded.

“If you feel the need tonight I’ll come up and supervise when you go to bed but for the moment, your gym shorts will do, so come down for tea.”

I looked at the stuff she’d bought and I was very happy. Despite her saying she wasn’t delirious about me wanting to be little, mum realised that I needed something and if she could make me happy, then she would.

“Mum, I want to wear protection at school.”

I didn’t explain the most recent threat and she arched her eyebrows as if to say “Tell me why”.

“I peed my pants today and… and it shocked me… because I didn’t know I was doing it.”

It was a lame excuse and I’m not sure she believed me but I insisted.

“Look, I think I can get to the boys room if and when I need to but… I like the idea of protection just in case I can’t. Today I had to pretend that a fast flow from the tap had taken me by surprise and soaked my pants, I don’t think that excuse would work again.”

In my head this all sounded convincing but mum looked at me wearily.

“Well,” she eventually said, “it’s up to you. If you think you can cope with that and the comments from your classmates…”

She changed tack.

“Are you sure you’ve thought this through sweetheart? I’m not sure the teachers will be on-board with it.”

“I’d rather folk didn’t know I’d wet my pants rather than worrying about anything else.”

I whined in my best whiny voice.

“Well okay then… it’s your school friends but if any teacher has reason to speak to me or your father… it has to come to a stop… okay?”

What I didn’t know at the time was that dad and mum had already discussed all of this and dad was of the opinion that as soon as I had to do everything for myself (including washing nappies and plastic pants every morning) I’d soon tire of the entire thing and revert back to normality.

I nodded my agreement because my spirits began to rise as I thought about the new stuff she’d bought I’d so soon get to wear. It was only later that it hit me that Cuddy and his mates would be on at me straight away and I’d have to prove I was wearing the ‘proper’ protection.

I didn’t sleep much and even the comfort of a thick disposable didn’t help. All I kept thinking about was Cuddy, and worse still, Archie setting about me because I was wearing the wrong thing. I thought about telling a teacher but knew in the past that they only reacted to something happening, not what a pupil ‘imagined’ might happen. In the meantime, I hoped that the nappy and plastic pants I’d decided to wear would be enough to stave off the humiliation I hoped to avoid but I hadn’t banked on how nasty (or cunning) Cuddy could be.

I got ready for school myself. I was apprehensive but knew I couldn’t escape what was to happen so hoped that by meeting it face on I’d be better prepared. What I had envisioned being a pleasurable experience, putting myself into thick protection, was a nervy experience. I couldn’t quite get the nappy to fold correctly or the pins to hold it firm, in the end I had to ask mum to come and help, which thankfully she did.

However, she complained that I’d forgotten the golden rule and that was to use copious amounts of anti-rash cream and powder first off before the nappy was applied. Then she took fastidious care in how it was put on and showed me the secret of a tight fit; it was all down to the pinning. As promised mum had bought me some plastic pants and they were a thick, shiny white style that hugged everything in place. I was then ready for the rest of my uniform and I was surprised to see that the bulge wasn’t as evident as I thought it might have been.

Strangely, that first day in a nappy at school, although anxious, it wasn’t Cuddy and his chums that noticed. In fact, they didn’t bother me at all and it was only Jeremy and his mates in my class that mentioned I looked like I was wearing a diaper (yes, they called it a diaper) and, like everyone I’ve ever known, continually patted my padding whenever they were in range. They weren’t nasty about it, just sort of acknowledging it was probably a sensible precaution with Cuddy on the warpath.

No one was in any doubt that it had been Cuddy who had forced me into a disposable and taken those photos to embarrass me, but no one saw it happen so couldn’t come to my defence. Of course there were those who loved to see others in distress or being humiliated because it meant it wasn’t they who were on the end of such cruelty. They even cheered the demise of the weaker element and ganged up a bit themselves, safe in the knowledge that they were at least stronger than someone else. There is a lot of bullying goes on at all levels of education and it’s not always done by the pupils.

In fact, on the fourth day of my nappies-to-school regime I learned that Cubby and his mates had been suspended for a week owing to a ‘disagreement’ with one of the teachers. So, I hadn’t needed to wear them at all, which was a shame because, I could have enjoyed wearing them if I hadn’t been in constant fear about a sudden Cuddy confrontation.

However, I was wearing them 24/7 and was getting used to the feeling they gave me. I’d taken on-board mum’s suggestions and process and found that it did leave me feeling very secure indeed. I was also getting used to wearing plastic pants over the nappy and thoroughly enjoyed that extra layer of protection.

Dad was surprised at how easily (and well) I took to washing my own stuff, hanging it out to dry and wandering around the house wearing nothing else. My brother and sister smiled and patted my padded bum as I passed but no negativity… it was in its own way quite thrilling.

At home I wasn’t on edge and my nappies gave me the feeling I thought I wanted. However, the fact that I wasn’t being treated as a toddler was frustrating and none of my family would play the game. The ridiculous thing; and it didn’t occur to me straight away, was that Cuddy and his mates were quite intent on treating me as a ‘no dick toddler’ and was so scared of what they might do… I neglected this important piece of data.

The following week Cuddy was back and just before the bell went at school on Monday morning, Archie cornered me and marched me into the boy’s urinals. There Cuddy stuck his hand down the back of my pants and was gratified to feel the silky rubber pants and padding.

“Well there’s a good little Baby Dick.” His voice was slimy but he thought he’d won a victory over me and I’d had no alternative than to do as he commanded. I didn’t put him right.

“Plastic pants as well… my baby brother wears these… you look pretty much alike.”

He nodded to his friends as if he was in total control of the situation.

“Okay Baby Dick… every morning there’ll be an inspection by one of us… so you’d better keep that baby padding on… or there’ll be trouble.”

I think that last bit was for the benefit of his gang, just to make sure his threat was noted and of course to prove that all the kids in school were pretty terrorised by him. For the first time I relaxed a little because I had no intention of wearing anything else. He wasn’t to know I wore these at home and if he thought I was under his influence and so scared I would wear a nappy just because he said so, well, I, erm, um, well, I might be a little scared but I wore because I wanted to. I convinced myself of that.

Although I desperately wanted to pee in my nappy, at school I thought it better to rush to the boy’s toilets when I needed to go. Although it was a bit of a faff to wriggle my fingers up the leg hole and release my willy I thought it better than changing myself there. Despite the constant patting from Cuddy and his mates (and one or two others who knew) the system seemed to be working and for a week things were going as planned.

The following Monday morning at my inspection Cuddy was very aggressive when he plunged his hand down the front of my trousers. He could feel the plastic pants and padding but there was something missing.

“You’re not wet.”

For the first time in over a week I got scared.

“I gather you’ve been using the boy’s toilets,” he snarled in my face. “That’s not a place for little baby dicks like you. It’s out of bounds from now on…” he paused. “I have eyes everywhere so don’t think for a moment I won’t know if you try to change your new rule.”

The smile returned to his face as he smirked his latest command.

“From now on… you’ll go in your nappy like the little baby dick you are.”

He pulled down my pants to reveal me standing there in just my protection.

“You’d better start now.”

I was flummoxed. I didn’t know how to respond except that I didn’t want to wet myself there and then. However, the decision wasn’t mine, he wanted me to pee my pants but I begged him not to make me.

He threatened and smacked the back of my head and I knew his warning was about to take on a more physical stance.

I willed myself to pee and after a few more smacks to my head I eventually squeezed out a spurt.

“Ohh more than that baby,” he chuckled, “I want to see this thing filled.” He patted my padded bottom.

Surprisingly, after that first laboured spurt, the rest flowed with no trouble and I could feel the warming glow as he squeezed my nappy and felt its growing sogginess.

“That’s a good baby… now you’ll be checked more regularly and that nappy better be soaked every time or… I wouldn’t like to be you.”

The threat was uncompromising and I felt tears spring to my eyes.

He seemed satisfied he’d made me wet myself, his friends had witnessed the power he had and, to top it all, I’d cried. He swaggered off completely pleased with what he’d done and boasting to his mates that they should inspect my sopping padding at every opportunity. I’m not sure that anyone wanted that particular task but they did as Cuddy said… they didn’t want to be made to pee their own pants on demand.

I was left with my trousers around my ankles and a full and wet bloated nappy I now had to contend with. I knew with the departure of the gang that the braver elements of the school would soon be using the facility and I had to react quickly. I didn’t have anything to change into so, with the warmth still spreading around my genitals, I speedily hauled up my pants and got out as soon as I could.

What I didn’t think about was there’d be an audience waiting to use the toilet, too scared to enter whilst Cuddy was conducting ‘business’ but a loud whisper began to circulate that I’d wet myself even though I didn’t think anyone could see. Perhaps I was naive enough to believe Cuddy and his mates would have kept my secret - alas, no.

To begin with the plastic pants kept it all contained but as the day progressed, and more pee was added to the sodden material, so the seepage began. I arrived home and both the nappy and my trousers were wet through. I was embarrassed because so many people knew I wore a nappy… and still I wet my pants.

I hid all this from my family. I thought I could deal with it myself and I didn’t want mum and dad creating at school. Dad had already said that if there was any comment from staff and it was brought to his attention ALL my nappy exploits would come to an end.

The following day I didn’t want to go to school but decided I’d double the thickness by inserting a soaker pad or two and wear the most robust rubber pants I had in my collection. The problem this caused was the bulk was now incredibly visible and there was no getting away from my pronounced waddle. A couple of teachers asked me about it but I said I was experiencing a bout of incontinence , so mum had insisted I wear proper protection… she didn’t want me to miss any classes. This seemed to allay any suspicions, which I was pleased about.

Cuddy took it as a personal triumph that I now had to wear double thickness to collect a day’s pee and he and his mates took great delight in making sure I was wet all the time. When Archie got me alone one time he even insisted I filled my nappy just for him. This was one guy I didn’t dare refuse, which, judging by his maniacal laughter once I’d done so, was the correct decision.

“You are such a fuckin’ baby aren’t you Smith?”

I knew it was a rhetorical question but nodded anyway.

“Wearing a nappy and fuckin’ pissin’ yerself… fuck… you should be in a toddler group not here.”

I couldn’t have agreed more. The wet thickness of my nappy was testament to my juvenile status and it was only when Archie had said what he had that I realised that Cuddy and his gang were, perhaps without meaning to, giving me that babyish element I was missing. Outwardly I was being forced to do what I was doing yet inside… well… just let me say my feelings were a little more complex.

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I know this message is really late, but is it okay if I ask what gay characters in a story have to do with people not liking Deeker who is a pedophile? I am sorry if this question upsets you.

If you’d read the thread a wee bit more comprehensibly you’d have perhaps seen this quote from the Magistrix ex Technolgia herself

I’ve no problem with people not liking Deeker, In fact I would run screaming in the opposite direction from anyone who claimed to like him. . What i do have a problem with is people who troll authors who write sexual minority characters. There’s no way in which disliking Deeker would excuse you from a USDA Grade A Select Premium Cut Horse’s Butt which is what the aforesaid trolls are, and hence my comment

Your right that was my mistake for not reading that section very well, and now that I understand what the situation is I can understand why you would be so upset about there comments because nobody should be trolled just for writing about characters who are gay. So my apologies Brown Owl.


Ermmm, I think I’ve missed something in one of my own stories… where is the gay element?:confused:

Okay after what clawdiawolf said four times I believe she was saying in addition to being jerks about your story being Deekeresk they have also trolled authors on here who have gay characters in their stories. Also, that one of them was banned for it. So basically these people that tagged you have a history of doing this. So it shouldn’t bother you.


Les Lea, you aren’t the only one confused, I haven’t seen any Gay Element to this story at all. The hate mongers are getting slapped in the face with a reality check their frail egos can’t cash. I will say this “Forget them and Write your stories how you feel they need written”.

Thanks Jayme Ann for your support. :slight_smile:
I wasn’t aware that my stories provoked such reaction in some readers :confused: but I’m thankful I can continue.

All the best to those who like them and… sorry to those who don’t.

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