First story here… please be kind (or at least polite!)


Chapter One:

The last thing Mum and Dad said to me before they left for the weekend was 'Remember, if you’re feet get wet it’s time to get out." which was sort of funny, as that was just what had happened to the old house. Our feet had got very wet, all the way up to my neck in fact, but then that’s what happens when a river comes through your bungalow’s front door, and out the back.

Okay, so that doesn’t sound particularly funny, but given the only temporary place we’d been offered by the insurance company, was twelve floors up a posh apartment block, you can see why I smiled, even as I told them I’d be okay on my own for about the twenty billionth time. I’m mean I was fourteen already, so not really a little kid who couldn’t be left alone for the weekend, despite some of the things I was planning to get up. Still, my parents didn’t know that, and given the entire block we were in was closed to outsiders, the river probably wouldn’t have been allowed in anyway, at least not with a handful of references from ‘respectable’ people just like we’d had to do.

Of course I still had to go through the usual routine, of reciting all their contact numbers, even throwing in numbers to phones that were never to be seen again. Only once all this was out of the way, along with reminders about which hotel they were spending the night in and to contact the janitor if anything went wrong in the apartment, did my parents finally leave me, their only child behind, little realising just how young I would be by the end of the weekend.

The hire car Dad was driving - ours had played water born bumper cars down the street before getting stuck half way up a tree - silently slipped away, reminding me that some things were certainly better now, even if we had barely escaped from the roof of our house with nothing but the clothes on our back, thanks to a pilot disobeying the TV crew he already had on board, who just wanted to film us, instead of actually helping out.

By the time our insurance company agreed to re-house us - which was only after the TV crew from the helicopter had got on the case, even if that was just to divert attention away from themselves - all of the decent rental places had already been taken, which is why we ended up in another town, in a place that wasn’t even furnished but for the basics. That’s where the basement storeroom came in very handy in fleshing out the apartment into something livable, even if none of it matched and none of it felt like ours. Which is why Mum and Dad were going to spend the weekend touring the various salvage centres to see if anything of ours had actually survived.

Turning I looked up at the building towering above me, which was another improvement. Okay so it didn’t look it on the outside, and it didn’t have the river-side appeal of our old house, but I’d found more than enough to make up for that down in the basement storage area, some of which was now hidden in my new bedroom right up near the top.

Twelve floors up, I punched the number into the door entry pad, waited for the click, and then pushed the door open, entered, then waited for it to close again behind me with a satisfying click, before disabling the external pad, safe in the knowledge that no one could now get in and catch me doing the very odd thing I was about to do.

The apartment was huge, even bigger than our old place, with more rooms that we would have ever wanted or indeed could have used with just the three of us, all of them having a great view over the town that was now our home, or at least the large university hospital that was next door. Still you could see the green hills in the distance so it was sort of like being in the country again. Only drier.

I still marvelled at the view whenever I walked through the living room with it’s floor to ceiling picture windows, that continued on through to the dinning area, and then the kitchen. Beyond that lay the five bedrooms and four bathrooms. My parents claimed the first bedroom, I had the second, with the other three unused. At least for now.

My new room had none of my things in it, all of which had been lost. No poster, no books, no CDs, no DVDs, and well, not much of anything really. My PC, TV, PVR etc had been replaced with a single slightly battered, under-powered laptop, that had none of the games on it that I’d have played for hours on end but at least it the Internet, just about, so all wasn’t lost.

Other than that, I had the usual things you’d expect to find in a bedroom, like a desk, an enormous wardrobe that could well have been the gateway to Narnia, and, some drawers which I could have filled with all the clothes I’d been donated, after the TV appeal, if ninety-nine percent of them hadn’t been either hideous, or totally the wrong size. I also had a bed, the likes of which my great granddad probably would have slept in with it great big metal rails at each end, and a mattress so high off the floor I almost needed a step to be able to get onto it.

Oh and there was the safe.

It was built into the floor, under where my bed, fitted so cleverly you couldn’t even see it was there just by looking. I’d only discovered it when I’d tried to move the bed, and the solid iron weight had made the floor creak in a way that reminded me a little too much of how the bungalow had sounded as the water had first hit the outside walls. Only this turned out to be a good thing. A very good thing.

Entering my bedroom I made like the football goalkeeper I was for the school team, and dove straight under the bed, sliding effortlessly across the no doubt expensive, yet cold first thing in the morning, flooring, until my head, and shoulders disappeared from sight beneath that great big metal beast.

A hand on the opposing wall, prevented my head cracking into the skirting like the first time I’d tried the slide, leaving me almost perfectly level with the secret hatch, that once pressed in all the correct places, caused a section of the floor to drop down slightly so it could then be slid underneath the rest to expose the metal face plate of the safe.

There was no keyhole or handle on the safe, just the same sort of keypad that was on the front door. Thankfully, in what had to be a major lapse in security, whoever had last used the safe, had it set for the exact same code as the door, so I’d only needed one attempt to open it. Naturally I’d since changed the code, following the instructions handily attached to the back of the safe door, to something only I knew, as if I could figure it out then so could my parents, and I didn’t want them seeing what I was keeping down here.

Once the safe was opened I pulled out the single thing it contained. The rucksack had been given to me when I checked out of the hospital and had contained what the charity who provided it called a ‘Survival Kit’ which was a somewhat grand name for a set of underwear, toothbrush, toothpaste, and some soap. Now it contained something a lot less practical but a lot more fun, if slightly stolen.

The rucksack was sealed with zippers that were themselves closed with padlocks that had dials on the front. These could be used as both timers to release the locks so they could only be opened between certain times, or after a specified period of time, or like a standard combination lock, which is how I was using them.

Sitting on my bed, with my feet all but dangling even though I’m not really that much shorter than most fourteen year old boys, I removed the locks. Inside were two of the things I’d manage to gather for myself from the deluge of public donation that hadn’t always been the most practical for me or even my family. After all how many teenagers would want a set of thin terry towels, and extra large safety pins, with covers over the tops for that added protecting? Mind you not many teenagers would know what these were either. But I did as I’d seen them in use at the hospital but had yet to use them myself. Until now.

Jumping down from the bed, I did a quick tour of my bedroom. First opening up the large wardrobe door, folding it back to the full height mirror fixed to the inside was easily visible. Then I went to my desk, to open up my laptop, so it could start bringing itself out of ‘sleep’ mode - I dare not turn it completely off as it took forever to boot up - so it would be ready for when I would need it. In the meantime, I went to the drawers on the other side, and picked out the T-shirt I’d previous selected from my stash in the basement for the occasion.

On the way back to the laptop I pulled the shirt I was wearing over my head, rather than to waste time undoing the buttons, tossing it over to the corner where a laundry basket was waiting to catch it. Then I pulled on the new shirt on in it’s place, which was nothing but a plain white t-shirt with a large bright red dinosaur covering the front, with it’s head just beneath my chin and it’s feet were just above my belly button as that’s where the bottom hem ended.

The t-shirt was marked as being for ages 5-8 but they must have been pretty big eight year olds as it really wasn’t all that tight on me, just somewhat on the short side, but that, along with the childish print on the front, just added to the little kid look that I would be going for this weekend.

My laptop was ready by the time I settled in front of it, for some nifty moves that sent me to the on-line storage site that dad had set up for all our back ups, as there’s nothing like a total wipe out of your electronic life to let you know just how important back ups were! Only back ups wasn’t the only thing that I used that site for, as hidden away in a password directory was my private stuff, and it was here that I went, looking for the instructions on how to fold a terry towel into a diaper that would fit a teenager.

Turning the laptop towards the bed, and increasing the font size so I’d be able to read the instructions from there, I set about following them as closely as any homework assignment I’d ever had which turned out not to be good enough as my first couple of attempts were complete rubbish.

It was on the fifth attempt that I finally achieved something that looked about right, in a triangle shape that would be big enough for me to wear, as a quick demonstration over my jeans proved, although there would only be one way to be sure of that fact which is why I next went into the bathroom en suite to my room to get the first thing I’d forgotten in my haste to regress myself.

I never explained to my parents just why I wanted such a large tub of plain talcum powder and they never asked which was just as well as I don’t think I could have come up with something convincing, but those thoughts were a long way from my mind, as I returned to my bedroom, not just with the talc but without wearing anything other than the too short, too childish T-shirt.

My excitement waved around in front of me even I as I did such an every day thing as depositing my jeans, underwear and socks into the laundry basket, and it continued to do so even as I got up onto my bed, and sat my naked bum right down in the middle of the terry cloth triangle.

There was, I had to admit, nothing like sitting on a soft, fluffy towel, and certainly nothing like covering yourself in the sweat smelling white powder that soon turned the already pale parts of my otherwise tanned body, into the colour of your average ghostly vampire.

Now it was time for the ultimate nappy test. Reaching down between my legs, totally ignoring what was standing proud there, I grabbed the long pointed end of the towelling triangle and pulled it up so that it covered the very enjoyment that it was giving me.

At this point I had to pause for a minute as I’d forgotten to make sure the safety pins were within reach, but once that oversight was rectified, I was able to pull up each end of the top parts of the triangle around the sides of my hips so that they would meet up with front part. Here, on both sides, I pushed the safety pins through the cloth, giving the entire thing one last hefty tug to make it as tight as possible, before I finally fastened the pins, by locking off the tops.

There I’d done it. I was wearing a nappy for the first time in little more than ten years, only it didn’t seem any more than I just had a towel wrapped around my waist, as if I’d just come out of the shower. Okay so it between my legs, which made it a little more interesting, as I slid myself from the bed, as it sort of bunched up down there. That rectified itself as I took the few steps I needed in order to get over to the wardrobe mirror.

The image I saw in the mirror wasn’t exactly what I’d been hoping for, but it wasn’t far from it either. The towel was fairly tight, and made quite a good fit around my body, although at the same time it appeared to bulk out around the back, both expanding and accentuating the roundness of my bum, while providing a totally smooth front that completely hid the turbulence that was going on within the towelling. Still along with the childish, outgrown shirt, the overall appearance, was heading in the right direction, of making me look less like a teenager and more like a baby, or at least a cross between the two, just like those I’d seen at the hospital after the flood.

Thankfully, all my family escaped from the trauma of the flood with little more than a few cuts and bruises, but as we’d probably swallowed more river water than was good for us, and as we had nowhere else to go, we’d spent a few days in hospital. Naturally with an emergency going on, there was no way we’d been able to stay together, so I’d ended up in a ward more normally used for kids and teenagers who were in for more serious reasons than ‘observation’. It was there that I saw what I thought was a bunch of little kids in nappies, only to discover a lot of them were actually my age, or older. They’d just never grown up inside their heads.

I’d found it all much more fascinating that I probably should have, but the staff were friendly, and given how they had to constantly monitor me for signs of delayed shock, they were always around to answer my questions, about why and then the more detailed ones about why, there were teenagers in nappies.

No doubt the staff, just thought I was asking them about that so I wouldn’t have to face up to my own situation. At least that’s what the I overheard the patronising trauma therapist telling them before she ironically, started to treat me like I was five years old, instead of fourteen with her stupid questions, and comments about how I was a ‘big boy’, and other stuff that made it really hard not to laugh in her face.

The odd thing was, it was that same therapist, that inadvertently gave me the idea to dress up like a little kid, as she explained the behaviour of the other kids on the ward as, ‘regression’. That they reverted to a younger age in order to block out some trauma or other that they’d had to face. Of course, all her answers had something or other to do with ‘trauma’ but then she was a ‘trauma therapist’, but still it was worth a try, even if it didn’t stop me feeling guilty about the ‘souvenir’ I’d left the hospital with. The plastic pants.

At the time I was getting ready to leave hospital, standing beside the bed, dressed in clothes that weren’t mine, waiting for my parents to turn up, a pile of plastic pants had just been sitting on a trolley across the corridor and I still don’t know for sure why I was drawn to them, or just why I’d spend the night with alternating dreams of myself drowning in our living room, or being made to wear nappies and plastic pants. However what I did know that while the first thoughts made me feel sick, the later gave me excitement that was in danger of bursting through the thin track suit I’d been given from the hospital’s lost property.

It was almost like it wasn’t me who crept across the corridor and started looking through the plastic pants for a size that would fit me, and who then put those he found into the rucksack, tucking them right into the bottom, so they wouldn’t be obvious.

I pretty much forgot about the plastic pants in the whirlwind of events that covered the next couple of days, only to rediscover them once we were finally in our twelfth floor haven, at which point I had half a mind to throw them away, only to end up trying them on, at which point there was no going back as I knew, the first chance I got I would be wearing them all the time.

That time was now.

to be continued……

Re: Flooding

So far so good. Eagerly awaiting more. ;D

Re: Flooding

No one seems to hate my story - at least not enough to say anything - so here’s slightly short part two as we continue to set things up for what is to follow.

By the way, please be aware this is a solo story so although some other characters will apear from time to time, they won’t be getting involved in the main theme, so if you’re waiting for the ‘caught’ moment, you may as well stop here.
As for the reason I went down this path as there seems to be a lack of successful solo diaper stories, so I wrote one.

Now on with the show….


Chapter Two

Before the weekend my parents went back to our bungalow on their salvage mission, I’d only worn the plastic pants on their own, at night, as that was the only time I was alone. The only problem with that was, they were a touch baggy, given they were meant to fit over a nappy, yet at the same time, I still found them so exciting, that just a few rubs of either my hand, or even the bedclothes, would set me off inside them. In fact I was so turned on by them that I could almost have the same reaction just by looking at them, or touching them. And I did that a lot.

They were tucked away, right at the bottom of the rucksack where they spent most of their time during daylight hours, since I was discharged. Every time I took them out I once more sucked in a lung full of the wonderful of medicated clean smell that hospitals are smothered in, as was the thick, plastic with the thick crinkled elastic around the waist and leg openings. Milky white in colour they still managed to be transparent at the same time, despite the stains I’d managed to add to the front something that wouldn’t be an issue now I had a nappy on.

Putting the plastic pants on over the top of a nappy, was totally new to me, but I’d seen it done a couple of times in the hospital, so knew that I had to lie back on the bed, thread me feet into the leg holes and them pull them up to the bottom of the nappy. By this time the elastic around the leg openings was already starting to pull against my thighs, which it would continue to do, as I rolled myself backwards, throwing my legs into the air, so that my enlarged bum would lift up from the bed, and allow the rear of the plastic pants to slid on up over the nappy.

The entire thing was obviously easier if there was someone else there to hold your legs up, and to pull the plastic pants up, but that just wasn’t going to happen, so I did it all on my own, following the sights I’d seen as much as I could. Even working around the top and leg openings, once they were on, to make sure there were no stray bits of nappy sticking out.

It was time for me to make another appearance in front of the mirror and this time I very much liked what I saw. Now it didn’t look like I was wearing a towel having just got out of the shower. Now it looked like I was wearing a nappy. Not that you could tell straight away that I was, as the actual towelling wasn’t that visible through the pants, as all you could see what white through the milky plastic. The main difference from before as that wearing the pants smoothed everything out completely. There were no lumps or bumps, visible where the nappy was folded over. Even the pins could no longer be seen. Instead everything was transformed into soft, gentle curves and apparently flat surfaces.

Despite the wideness of the waist and leg bands, the plastic pants looked pretty much like a normal pair of pants, or at least like those a little kid would wear. There was no fly of course, as that would have somewhat defeated the object but there was nothing all that unusual about them, other than for their thickness obviously.

Normal underwear worn by boys my age, usually just hang on your body, designed as they are to hide what’s inside which they do with varying degrees of success. Boxers show next to nothing as they are more or less like shorts, although as most of their users know, you have to watch the fly doesn’t gap open and show everything they should be hiding. Briefs are the opposite, as while they don’t really show what you’ve got in detail, they still show what’s there, with the outline of your nuts clearly on show while your bum gets all mushed together in a way that makes people want to slap it.

It’s no wonder that most of my peer group go for a hybrid of the two, something that’s large enough not to make everything too obvious, but at the same time, doesn’t let things flap around either neither of which was an issue for the plastic pants and nappy combo. There was no movement at all allowed inside the soft folds of the nappy although the tightness of the plastic pants did round out my bum like you wouldn’t believe. Yet, other than that, it just looked like I had on thick, and I mean really thick, underpants.

This was especially obvious when I turned sideways to the mirror. There you could see how the front of my body came down in a nice flat way, from my chest across my very flat stomach, but then, as you got to my waist, there was like a sudden step in my profile, where the plastic pants came, expanding my outline by a good inch or so before it started to curve back inwards towards my legs without the slightest indication as to which gender I was. It was exactly the same around the back too, with my bum being all big and plump. And then there was the sound.

My every step, or twist, or turn, now had it’s own sound track of crinkles and crackles that I hadn’t really been expecting, even though I’d heard people talking about them on-line, yet, as they’d said, it did add to the totally babyish look that I’d been going for. Now I just had to see how I compared.

In the short time I’d had the laptop, and some privacy, I’d spent as much time as I could gathering as much information as I could on what was fast becoming my new obsession. The life of people in nappies.

The first thing I’d looked for as pictures to go with my memories of those I’d seen in hospital, and that’s where I went to directly on this occasion too. Logging back into the on-line storage site as the previous session had expired, I went directly for my favourite images of boys my age wearing similar things to what I now had on. Some of these were clearly medical related, but others weren’t. Not even slightly. These boys wanted to wear them. And so did I, which is why I’d come up with my plan.

It was contained in another file in the secret folder. A file that had a totally innocent looking title, but with no file extension so that even if you double clicked on it, no application would be launched. This was another level of security I’d built into my plan, as the only way to open it was to start application first - in this case a portable text editor - and then direct that to the file to be opened.

The words contained were so familiar to me that I could have recited them all from memory, yet I still read them from the screen, just as I had been doing nearly every night since my parents had announced I was going to finally get some totally privacy.

It was a basically a list of the things I would need, to go with those I’d found in the basement, followed by notes as to where I could get them, and where I could keep them, until they were needed. Then a second list of the things I had to do, in the order I had to do them, in order for everything to run, smoothly. And finally there was a set of rules I was going to follow in order to stay in character.

All but one thing on the first list I’d already managed to find, and they were saved either in my room, or if they were either too bulky to be hidden or would raise too many questions, down in the basement storage room, where I’d be getting them, just as shortly as I’d got the one thing I was going to have to actually buy. Disposable nappies, that I could actually use, without spending all weekend washing towels and not because toddlers didn’t do that.

I’d decided that I wasn’t going to be an actual baby as such, as they didn’t really do anything, but would be able to move around and do something so in other words rather than being fourteen years old teenager, I was going to be a fourteen month old toddler. Although before that could happen I had to go shopping.

End of chapter two….

Re: Flooding

You know, I sure hate it when a writer writes about something annoyingly depressing, like a flood destroying a family’s home, and not only doesn’t give us an appealing reason to read it, but lingers on it too long. And the diaper side of the story isn’t even that good. Then again, I always manage to find the bad in something, no matter how much the good outweighs it. And I’m really sleep deprived right now. I guess this just isn’t my type of story, so no offense.

Re: Flooding

What is a solo diaper story? I’m not familiar with the term.

Re: Flooding

Sorry perhaps I should have made that plainer. All I mean is that there is no one else involved with the diaper play. The lead character does everything on their own.

Re: Flooding

Not sure if there’s enough interest for me to continue but at least no one actually said “Stop!” so here’s the next part:

Chapter Three

Clearly I couldn’t just go out of the up scale apartment block I was living in wearing nothing by a home made cloth nappy, plastic pants and a t-shirt that didn’t cover my stomach. Of course I could have changed back into my normal clothes, and just gone as myself, but seeing that it was part of my plan that I’d be spending the weekend dressed as I was, I didn’t want to ruin it now by going out of character, so to speak, especially as that was my cover in case I was caught. That I was rehearsing for a play, doing the ‘method’ system, although just what sort of play I could do that would require a teenager to wear a nappy I hadn’t exactly worked out.

Anyway, the main reason I wanted to go in a nappy was partly to prove that I was up for it, but also because the first time buying nappies seemed to be one of those moments in a teenager babies life, that everyone had to go through, as it was featured in every story I’d read. Well every story where the kid didn’t actually need the nappies.

SO the question now was, what could I wear that wouldn’t make the nappy I was wearing completely obvious but, at the same time, still make me aware it was there?

Naturally I’d already sorted this out, just like I’d left nothing else over the weekend to chance and already had the two items I would need ready in my room. The first was a set of grey shapeless jogging trousers, which would be easily big enough to cover the nappy and were the sort of thing that boys my (real) age tended to wear, but which were also worn by the little ones too. And the second was a massive t-shirt, that would do the same thing.

It didn’t take me long to get ready as the clothes were really easy to put on as they just pulled into place with the waistband of the jogging trousers fitting nicely over the top of the plastic pants, giving me an even bigger bum than I’d had before, although that was soon hidden as the extra large t-shirt dropped down over the top, reaching almost all of the way to my legs, so that nothing could be seen, and hiding that extra bulging around my middle.

Little ankle socks went on my feet, followed by a pair of what were called slip on trainers but would have once been called plimsolls and were the sort of things that little kids wore back in the day when my parents were little kids.

Finally I brushed my hair, which I’d washed that morning in my own power shower, to remove any product from it, so that it would just sit on my head in a sort of bowl which again, was like something a little kid would have. Then picking up large bag to carry what I was going to get, along with my wallet I headed out of the apartment setting the answering machine on the phone on the way.

Even though I knew there was nothing to see walking towards the lift felt strange mostly due to the extra bulk between my legs that I wasn’t used to, and which now I was outside of the apartment where other people might be, I became all the more conscious about yet I knew I had to stop myself from continually checking to see if there was anything to see, or else I’d just draw attention to what I was doing. I also had to walk as normal as possible without bowing my legs for the same reason. Oh and try to ignore the very faint crackling sound of the plastic pants that although muffled by the jogging trousers, I could swear was getting louder with every step.

Down in the lobby, I was relieve to see that it was empty, with not even the doorman to be seen. Not that I was worried about him seeing me as such, but given that I wouldn’t be coming back in this way, I didn’t want him to wonder where I was.

The outside air hit me with a freshness that you loose when you’ve spent a lot of time inside making plans, but I didn’t have time to just wonder around in my nappy as much as I would have liked to, as there would be more than enough time for that later, plus I had some shopping to do.

Actually the shop I was going to wasn’t an actual shop as such, as after all most shops don’t actually sell nappies that would fit teenagers, but I knew one place that would. The University teaching hospital that was right next door to our building.

The hospital itself was enormous, and I mean enormous. It must have covered more ground than the entire town we’d lived in before. With building spread out on all sides, with wings for this and that, and speciality centres with names that you need a degree in Latin to be able to pronounce. I didn’t need any of that though, as the part I was heading for was just one block away from our apartment, and was the supplies centre.

Now I know what you’re thinking, that I’m going to get my disposable nappies in the same way that I obtained the plastic pants, but that isn’t the case as unlike most hospital supplies, the teaching hospital had branched out into retail so as well as supplying the hospital with everything it needed, they were also open to the public so they could get all the medical stuff they want. Which included nappies, obviously.

By the time I got to the hospital store, it was coming up for lunchtime, which as it turned out was the perfect time to go there as visiting hours hadn’t started yet, so the store was fairly quiet, even so I didn’t really want to spend any more time in there than I wanted to so once inside the door, I located the baby section and headed for it.

Moving through the store was an experience I can tell you for it was just like a normal supermarket but instead of the shelves being filled with fruit, veg, meat and such like, there were all sorts of weird, wonderful and in some cases downright frightening things just sitting there. So it was more than a little relief that I made it through to the nappy section, only to realise that my research had clearly been lacking.

There were hundreds of different sorts of nappies. So many that I didn’t know where to start looking for some that would be right for me. I had an idea in my head of what I wanted, and what I didn’t want. Pullups - those that are like regular briefs but with a bit of padding ‘just in case’ - were out, so I could discard looking at them but that still left a lot of others, in various sizes, shapes, quality, brands and so on.

It took me a few minutes but I did eventually work out, that I was wasting my time as nothing there was going to fit me. At least not in the Baby isle, as I wasn’t after all a baby. Thankfully the nappies were arranged in ascending age order, so all I had to do was work along the lines, going further into the store before I crossed out of the ‘Baby’ section, through the ‘Toddler’ and into the incontinent section.

Standing there, I look at what was on offer, relieved to see that it was now narrowed down from a seemingly endless choice to just four in the ‘Youth’ range. One of these was in the Pullup style, so that left three, all of which looked pretty much the same, plain white, with tapes on the side, with just the brand name and price being the only differences, and my search probably would have stopped there, had I not turned around to see if anyone was watching me.

It wasn’t a person that was behind me, but another stand of ‘Youth’ nappies, that I hadn’t seen before. These were basically like those I’d been looking at but, they were anything buy plain and unlike the others the packaging wasn’t plastered with slogans like ‘Undetectable’ which promised they were just like normal underwear. These ones were made for mentally disabled teenagers, and were styled every bit like the baby nappies I’d been looking at to start with, complete with cartoon characters, plastered on the thickly padded front and rear. In other words, they were perfect especially as they were on sale, if only they weren’t for girls.

There was only one thing for it. I was going to have to ask.

Although was a check out at the front of the store, as you’d expect, there was also a ‘Help’ desk at the back, manned by a little old lady, no doubt on a voluntary basis, who if nothing else, and was a much less embarrassing prospect than talking to those up the front, who being semi-qualified medical types might have asked questions about why I wanted what I wanted.

“Hello sonny!” the women said in that patronising way I’d normally have found annoying, but actually found soothing on this occasion. “Can I help you with something?”

My voice cracked a bit like it was breaking all over again, which did nothing to hide just how embarrassed I was, despite all the rehearsal I’d done for just this situation. Still I managed to stumble out that I was looking for the boy version of the nappies that were on special offer.

“Ah right, yes,” she said, looking me up and down, in a way that made me blush, “Those are out the back as we don’t get that much call for them. Why don’t you carry on shopping and I’ll go get them for you. We’ve got some items on offer you may be interested in.”

She was gone before I could ask what she meant by that, replaced by another assistant who looked like he was on Community Payback, so I decided to find the other things I wanted which I figured would be in the ‘Accessories’ aisle I’d passed on the way to the counter.

Everything I wanted was right there on the shelves. It was just a matter or working out what I could afford. I would have loved to have bought everything your average baby needed, from bibs to sippy-cups to bouncers and walkers, but I just didn’t have the money, and most of that stuff would have been too small anyway. Still there was once thing that was top priority behind the nappies and that was a pacifier. I just wasn’t sure I’d be able to get one that wouldn’t look stupidly small. But I was in luck.

Once more it wasn’t in the regular baby accessory part of the story, but at the end in the disabled section and was just what I wanted. A pacifier that wasn’t only big enough to fit a teenager’s mouth, but one that could be adjusted so it couldn’t be removed.

They called it a ‘safety feature’ when what it really was that the bulb that went into the mouth could be inflated, by simply twisting the external ring, making it impossible to be removed, while also allowing the child to breath. That second bit I guess was the safety part, as breathing was obviously important. It even had a feeding tube attachment that could be screwed in, but I wouldn’t be needing that, especially as it was very expensive as you had to buy a little pump and other stuff whereas the pacifier was rather cheap.

By now I had all that I’d come for, or at least I would have once the old lady returned with my special offer nappies so in the meantime I just browsed up and down the shelves, intending to just kill time when instead, I made one of the best discoveries of the weekend.

It was just hanging up on a little hook at the end of the ‘special’ display. There was no label, or note to say what it was, but I recognised it anyway. It was a child harness. Made from the same material they made seat belts from, with adjustable slides all over the place, and a strong looking buckle that joined all the straps together. There were five straps in total. Two going around the torso at waist and chest height, while the another two, came up from both of them, going over the shoulders, and down to the back. The fifth and final one, went down between the legs, making it impossible for the harness to be taken off, without the five point buckle being released first.

“That’s on special offer if you want it?”

The question caught me totally by surprise as I was too busy staring at the harness. Turning to find the old women from the help desk, standing at the end of the aisle, with a large package under her arm.

I mumbled something about just looking, but I don’t think I fooled her for a second, even when I threw in my standby story about buying things for my brother who was ‘special’.

“Oh I see!” she said, again using that patronising voice thing, “Is your brother about the same size as you, sonny?”

“I guess.” I shrugged realising that the nappies she was holding were in my size, so there was little else I could say.

“Well in that case, that should fit your brother, and indeed, you.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so ended up saying nothing. Just standing there like I was the special one.

“It comes with all the attachment,” she said, coming over, putting the nappies down at my feet, so she could take the harness down from the hook it was on, revealing that there were indeed more parts to it.

“I don’t think I can afford it.” I eventually managed to blurt out, no doubt still sounding like an idiot.

She asked me how much I could afford, even totalling up the cost of the nappies, and the inflatable nappy I’d forgotten I was holding, to give me the running cost.

My family didn’t have a lot of money at that point, as we’d lost all our bank details, cards and so on in the flood, and banks can be a right pain in the arse, if you can’t prove who you are on paper, but we did have an allowance paid by the various charities that were helping us out, and I’d managed to save quite a bit, for my little shopping trip, which thanks to the reduction on the nappies, was enough to cover the pacifier as well with a bit left over. Just obviously not enough for a full harness. At least not a full price.

“Tell you what sonny,” the Help Lady said, “Why don’t you have the harness on sale?”

“Really, how much is that?”

Okay, so I sounded why too keen with that question, but I couldn’t help it, especially when ‘cost’ turned out to be just under the exact money I had left. It was like this was my destiny or something.

With the deal done, over my supplies, the Help Lady, offered to ring up my purchases herself, so I wouldn’t have to go to the front of store cash desk, which naturally I was grateful for her to do, as I hadn’t been looking forward to that experience. She even offered to put the nappies into a thick plain carry bag, so no one could see what I’d bought, which reminded me to take the plastic bag out of my pocket that I’d bought for just that reason.

And so ended my first experience at buying nappies, which hadn’t gone nearly as bad as most of those I’d read about, although that doesn’t mean I would be looking forward to the next time I would be doing it.

By the time I left the medical store, with my big carrier bag, the hospital was starting to get busier, so I had to abandon plans I had to stop for a snack in the canteen there - one of the perks of sharing an apartment block with doctors and surgeons was knowing about stuff like this - and instead opted for a snack from some of the vending machine that littered the place, which I could eat on my way around the back of the tall building that was my temporary home.

Unlike the front, there were no well tended flower beds, or large glass doors, but rather, metal lattice compound behind which were kept the buildings rubbish, and a single solid reinforced door marked ‘Fire Exit Keep Clear’. That was the one I used.

My number entry code worked just as well here as it did at the front, but with no power assist on the door it was much harder to haul it open, before I could step though in the building’s back passages.

Ahead of me, lay access way to various parts of the infrastructure, none of which was meant to be seen by the residents, but which I’d become somewhat familiar with as I’d made many trips down this way to visit the place I was about to go. The basement.

end chapter three….

Re: Flooding

Great story so far looking forward for the rest thanks

Re: Flooding

Ya I am so looking forward to the next few chapters. : )

Re: Flooding

I don’t think there is going to be more.

Re: Flooding

I’m pretty sure there’s not. The author hasn’t logged in since June of 2013, and their account is on my master list of accounts that have been bouncing email messages since May, 2014.

Re: Flooding

This was fun too bad the author is awol, hope they’re ok.

Re: Flooding

Sometimes I wonder what happens to members who disappear just like that. did they die or just lose sudden interest in the community?

Re: Flooding

This has nothing to do with your comment Kit, but I like your subscript.