New School

[B][U]New School

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[B]After my parent’s divorce mom decided she wanted to start a new life with me in another part of the country. She knew we needed to make a complete break and was eager that I should reap the benefits of a whole new experience.

[/B]Educationally I’d been doing OK but she knew I wasn’t all that happy and, as an eleven year-old, was about to move up to Middle School. However, that move was going to be at a new academy mom discovered as she searched for a new job.

She’s a research chemist and I’m glad to say, quite in demand. So we travelled half way across the country because she’d found employment in a laboratory, out in the wilds of nowhere, that dealt with medical /gene/stem-cell research, an area that mom was expert in. The centre was settled out of town on the edge of a desert but the town itself was large enough that you didn’t feel completely cut off from civilization… also it had a rather unique ‘school’.

‘Vestra frui pueritia’ was the school’s motto, which I gather roughly translates as ‘Enjoy your childhood’

Mom is clever and intuitive and said she only wanted the best for me, so, although it may be a wrench away from the few friends I had, this new beginning would give us both the kick-start to new opportunities from which she thought we’d both benefit– the school, the ‘ALEXIARES and ANICETUS ACADEMY’ was to be my new seat of learning. It wasn’t quite what I expected.

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Hi, I’m David, David Grohm, and ever since I was young I’ve always liked to experiment in the way I dressed. My long tousled dirty blond hair and big green eyes (mom always said I had the deepest green eyes she’d ever seen) giving me a sort of neutral sexual look – I could (and was) mistaken for either gender. Sometimes my ‘dressing up’ got away with little or no comment, other times it created quite a stir.

“If everyone else is dressed the same then the world would be a boring place.”

This was mom’s general rule about what I wore if I ever felt guilty over some of the outfits I chose. She was always very supportive of my originality and, even if she didn’t totally approve, certainly didn’t try to stop me from developing and investigating those interests.

Mom, Heather Grohm, is a very clever woman, far cleverer than my dad, James, who often found it difficult to keep up with his brilliant wife. These days mom probably wouldn’t win any awards for the sexiest mom on the school run, she wasn’t that type of woman, but she was always the most diligent and caring and made me, her only son, feel very special. She wasn’t cloying or over-bearing (perhaps that was me?) she knew what was best or just when I needed some space. She said that she saw a sweet, creative and wonderful person from the moment she set eyes on the ‘cutest baby in the world’. I loved it when mom spoke about me like that.

Ever since I was quite young I’d worn my mom’s clothes, I’d worn my dad’s clothes, I’d often make my own stuff up from pieces of fabric, plastic and stick it all together with a few pins then wander around in my latest creation. A little girl doing this would have passed unnoticed but a little boy; well it raised a few eyebrows with our neighbours - especially if I was dressed either like some foreign dignitary (and acting like one) or, more likely, a local peasant in rags and little else.

However, as I got older my main desire was to wear diapers. There was something very special about growing up and able to appreciate the comfort and pleasure such a piece of childish clothing offered. I suppose it wasn’t a big leap from some of the stuff I’d already been wearing; homemade loincloths, cod pieces, togas, skirts, dhotis, kilts… and it was whilst I had wrapped a towel around me like a diaper that I realised just how much I liked the sensation of something between my legs.

I wanted to dress as a baby even if I didn’t want to be treated as one, well not to begin with anyway.

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When mom had discovered my craving (that revealing towel wrapped around and pinned just so) I was seven years old. She didn’t appear concerned that her potty-trained little boy would happily want to envelop himself in a makeshift diaper. She asked if I liked what I was doing, and as she seemed OK about it, I volunteered the fact that I’d always liked the feeling that a diaper gave me – of comfort and safety.

I’m sure I didn’t use those exact words but she seemed to understand what I wanted and didn’t mind me continuing to wear such items. She asked if I liked wetting myself but in truth I hadn’t done so at that point and found the idea a bit yukky. She bought me a couple of large, terry style cloth squares, showed me how to fold them myself and how to pin them tightly so they wouldn’t sag too much. I actually liked the sag, the bulkiness when I sat down or played around was… wonderful.

Sometimes the looseness sent a tickle between my thighs and bottom which made me smile and wriggle gleefully. For obvious reasons I didn’t wear them for school only when at home or in the holidays but, as I grew older, mostly in private.

Mom has always been very understanding. She reckons from that very first time she saw her seven year-old son wearing a diaper again she thought I looked so damn cute she just wanted to scoop me up and hug me forever.

We did (and do) a lot of cuddling and even as I’ve grown bigger and gotten older, we still have the same relationship. I simply prefer diapers around the house and to sleep in. In fact, I’m not sure I’d get a good night’s sleep these days without them. There’s just something about a thick diaper hugging you as you drop off to sleep that is very satisfying.

It’s not often that I wet them when I’m asleep but occasionally I have done… though after that first time, mom insisted I wear plastic pants over them when I went to bed. She pointed out that even though I wore thick padding, it still leaked and, though she didn’t mind the diaper wearing, she wasn’t in favour of more washing.

However, there was something strangely satisfying the first time I wet on purpose. I was wearing a disposable and nervously thought I’d just experiment and see what it was like. As I tentatively let go I was so sure it would leak all over the place and run down my legs that it took me by surprise how efficiently it soaked up all my pee. A few seconds after I’d done it I couldn’t believe I didn’t feel all that wet and wondered where all the liquid had gone. Soon after I felt my disposable pressing and rubbing against my thighs and the front of my shorts had filled out. It was firm and solid and I was totally amazed at how my diaper was taking away any responsibility or guilt about wetting and was thankfully storing it away until I could dispose of it. The whole process had been a revelation and one I had no trouble pursuing on many more occasions.

Mom’s demand that I wear vinyl protection over my diapers didn’t seem unreasonable and as she went to the trouble to buy a few pairs of plastic pants, I wear them over my padding in bed. I quite like the feel and now I’m used to them (I’ve been wearing them continually ever since she first suggested it) there is certainly something special having that extra layer and they’ve prevented wet sheets on more than one occasion.

Sometimes, when I’m wearing my pyjamas over them, I love the feeling as they slip around the shiny pants and they slide up and down my legs as I wiggle in utter contentment. Mum says she loves those occasions when I’m dressed for bed, PJs over my diaper, and we’re sat cuddling on the sofa watching TV. She says there is something very comforting when she pats my padded bottom and I rustle around in complete happiness.

There’s no doubt about it – I’m a momma’s boy.

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Mom has let me wear a diaper when I wanted but insists that at school I should stick to briefs. This was ideal because I didn’t really want to share my diaper loving ways with any of my school mates as I guessed they would make fun or not want to be friends with such a baby.

Nevertheless, as soon as the school bus dropped me off, I’d rush home, strip out of my clothes and slip into my diaper. I always keep a pair of shorts nearby just in case anyone calls before mom gets home and I need to hide my padded bum from view.

Her encouragement kept pace as I grew up and with dad hardly ever being at home (he worked away most of the time) his opinion didn’t matter, although to be fair, when he did see me dressed that way he just thought it was a phase I was going through and left me to it.

However, after mom and dad divorced (being away so much mom thought it inevitable that he would ‘stray’ so when it happened it wasn’t so much of a surprise to her) she clung to me even more and it has to be said I found a great deal of happiness being hugged and cuddled by her. Often we’d both be in tears over something or other but she’d pat my cushioned bum and rock me in her arms and the world didn’t seem as cruel. She called me her baby, which I suppose most mothers think of their children in such a way no matter how old they get. She let me be as young as I wanted to be whilst in her arms; the rustling of my plastic pants seemingly giving her some kind of consolation to her marital problems.

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I have to confess something at this point.

I really loved being babied. I know I shouldn’t have but I’d let myself slip into that dependent role with unbelievable ease. Mom I think just needed some love, which I supplied with conviction but I found myself letting her make choices, take control and even change my diapers. Of course, once she’d changed them for that first time in many a year, it was easy to let her do it again. I loved the tenderness, the affection, the intimate touch of mommy looking after me. I cherished our mutual love for each other, the caring way we interacted, mom saw I had more than a need for diapers and, typical of her, she made sure I got it.

Later, she was the one who bought me the extra items like, larger rubber pants, pacifiers, baby-bottles and an assortment of clothes she thought I’d look ‘sweet’ wearing. So, when mom held me in her lap, whilst I sucked on a warm bottle of milk, the hugs and cooing I found so reassuring. It made it easy to relax and enjoy the comforting sensations that ran through my body. The fluffy onesie buttoned over the thick, soft wadded diaper making me seem enormous ‘down there’ but always feeling snuggly. She’d pat my bare legs and whisper sweet and soothing words so I suppose mom appeared to get as much satisfaction out of babying me as I did. It was strange, it seemed that as I got older she was happy for me to be younger and, perhaps surprisingly, I didn’t mind that arrangement.

I don’t think any of this was a response to daddy leaving us. In fact, I’d been doing this, or certainly heading in that direction, quite some time before the divorce happened. However, I became centre of mom’s world and I think in some ways it helped when I gave myself over to her maternal feelings. She appeared to love the babyish costumes and the bouts of baby talk we’d fall into and, as she kept repeating, no matter how big or old I got, I’d always be her sweet little baby.

I normally wore fabric diapers though sometimes, if they were in the wash, mom would let me have disposables or pullups. Oddly, it took me a while to get used to them in preference to my terry diapers but, once I’d slept in them for a couple of nights, I was hooked and quite happily swapped between the two different styles – both gave me the bolstering pleasure I needed.

If you’ve never had the satisfaction of diapers since you’ve ‘grown up’ might I suggest you give them a try? I know there will be some reluctance, perhaps not want to come across as a big baby or weirdo or some such thing but I bet you anything you’ll get more out of the experience than your ever thought you might. Don’t fight the urge, just tape yourself in and give yourself over to the wonderful slippery comfort of your inner toddler.

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Something else mom said she noticed was that compared to my friends, I didn’t have that hopeless angst that quite a few of them carried around. I was diligent (if not particularly brilliant) with my school work, I helped mom around the house, we had a terrific relationship and I never found it difficult to relate to other people, no matter what age. Mom reckoned that there would be other parents who would give their right-arm to put their kids in diapers if the result was they had a loving son like me.

When mom said stuff like that I’d blush but really I’d be pretty proud.

However wonderful our life together was, she thought I should, if I could, meet other people with a similar interest. So, while I was sleeping, she would be on the internet trying to find contacts and information about ‘support groups’ or some such thing. From one of the online stores where she bought some of the special ‘babywear‘ she liked me to have had given her a web address, which she’d been investigating to see if it was age appropriate. After many emails (though I don’t know if she actually spoke to anyone), she came to the conclusion that it was OK and it was time for me to experience other diaper wearers.

So, this is where the trek across the country, mom’s new job and my new start at ‘ALEXIARES and ANICETUS ACADEMY’.

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We moved everything.

The company mom was going to be working for had found us an apartment in a rather nice leafy part of town. Most of our neighbours either had jobs at the facility or were somehow connected in the supply chain. The Academy was for ‘special’ children but, as I hadn’t needed to pass any entrance exams or attend any interviews, I was grateful to mom for finding a place where she was convinced I’d be ‘settled’.

A new beginning in a strange place was a little daunting but mom had done her best to find a location where we’d both be happy. I was more than OK with this, I knew she wouldn’t have taken us anywhere we were going to feel outcasts or lonely. So now, just after my twelfth birthday, she thought it time I met others who shared my interest.

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I thought it a little odd that this school term started a few weeks before I expected but put this down to different education authorities having their own programme which we, as outsiders, would simply have to get used to. On that first morning I was incredibly surprised to find mom had laid out my school uniform and just what that ‘uniform’ comprised of. I looked at her in a very quizzical way but she was all smiles and encouragement and told me everything would be alright. She was also keen to help me dress and turned my doubts into a series of giggles and laughter. Whatever reservations I had mom certainly wasn’t sharing them as I was joyfully made ready.

Mom took me to the Academy, a large imposing building on the outskirts of the city and knocked on the rather grand oak door. She had made sure I was dressed correctly – not the uniform I had to wear at my last school but something different; diaper, plastic pants, onesie tightly holding it all together, pacifier and my comfort blanket. My backpack held replacements and extra disposables instead of books but mom said that the ‘teachers’ at this school would make sure I had everything else I needed and not to worry. The outfit I thought was rather strange for the first day of term but she assured me I’d be OK.

By now I really loved being dressed and cared for as a baby, even though I knew school would prove awkward. However, this was strange even in my strange world of dress-up. I briefly wondered if mom was returning me to kindergarten and I’d be spending my time with pre-schoolers, which, actually didn’t bother me that much if she did.

Although I liked all these babyish things I was worried that my fixation (as mom occasionally called it) might look bizarre and uncomfortable out in the real world. Up until that moment, the only place I’d worn this type of clothing was in the privacy of my own home. But I trusted mom completely and, no matter how nervous I was, knew she wouldn’t let me be somewhere that wasn’t safe.

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The door swung open and a lady, dressed like a very up-market nurse, greeted us.

“Ah, Mrs Grohm and… Davey… isn’t it?”

She smiled and beckoned me and mother in.

I sucked on my pacifier as I suddenly felt very shy, vulnerable and way out of my depth.

“Mrs Grohm,” she looked over to mother still smiling her cheerful welcome, “how wonderful of you to bring you sweet baby boy Davey here… “

She looked questioningly at mom.

“Is it OK to call him by that name?”

I was still nervously looking down at my thick diaper and the way it was bulging out around my onesie, the snaps emphasising just how thick my protection was.

Mom tried to clarify.

“David is the new boy so, if that’s how the academy refer to their, er, students?”

Now it was mom’s turn to look a little bit unsure.

The nursey looking lady beamed.

“Davey is such a friendly name and we want all our babies and toddlers to be happy here.” She continued, “Let me show you around and I’m sure Davey will soon fit in.”

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‘Babies and toddlers’ it was three words that hit me right between the eyes.

Surely that wasn’t what mom was expecting me to become, was it? I know I enjoyed playing my part and being delighted when she let me wear the clothing but, a place where I was expected to be a baby all the time? I just couldn’t believe mom would want that.

The school was set out like a huge nursery. As I walked in there were about twenty to thirty other ‘kids’ charging around wearing toddler clothes or just their diapers. Their ages ranged from maybe five to fifteen, maybe sixteen, maybe older but the place was alive with noise, fun, laughter, shouting, squealing, screaming, crying and that overpowering smell of babies – urine and powder.

“Sweetheart,” she squeezed my hand to get my attention. “For the next few weeks I’m going to be very busy with my new job.”

I could tell what she was about to say was going to be difficult for her.

“Because of that I wanted to give you something that I thought, er, hoped would be a place where you’d be happy.”

She gave me a sorrowful look.

“So, you will be staying here with these nice people for the time I’m away…”

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The reality struck - Mommy was leaving me here to live as she thought I’d like. A situation I was okay with at home but doubted I wanted to live all the time… and without her around to… well… be there for me.

She’d wanted it to be a nice surprise but I was in shock.

I think she knew that if she’d told me she had to go away for any length of time I’d be upset and possibly a little too emotional to be left and I probably wouldn’t have given the Academy a chance.

As mom explained, it was several weeks before I needed to start school properly but she had to go on courses and generally be unavailable to me for a few weeks and hoped this would be a wonderful and welcome surprise.

When she saw the colour drain from my face, my shoulders slump and my face screw up ready to bawl, she realised that perhaps it wasn’t that great an idea after all.

I certainly didn’t want to be parted from mom. We’d never been apart and I could see that the separation was going to be as difficult for her as it was for me.

There were tears in her eyes and my blubbing was muffled by sucking on my pacifier.

I’d never felt more like a vulnerable and sad little toddler.

“Sweetheart, I thought you’d be happy.”

My tears told her otherwise.

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Actually, it wasn’t the place that I was crying about, it was that mommy wouldn’t be around for a while and, as we’d never been separated before, this was what I found scary.

“Don’t be sad.” A little voice said next to me.

I looked and it was a girl my age looking concerned but dressed as a two year-old, her long blonde ringlets framing her sweet face. Blue eyes sparkled with concern but also held the promise of cheeky fun - she stretched out a hand for me to take.

Mom released mine to let me go but I didn’t feel able to move. She gave me a gentle push on my padded bottom and at the same time a younger, perhaps seven years old, joined the girl and asked if I wanted to come and “pway?”

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Now mom was no longer holding my hand they each took one and led me off to join in with a group of noisy kids. I nervously stood watching as diapered children ran around screaming and shouting. There appeared to be no age barrier as they mixed together laughing and not in the least bit constrained by what they wore, just like toddlers.

The little boy, who was ginger-haired and freckle-faced, shoved a plastic sword into my hand, told me I was a knight and that we were rescuing a princess from the castle, a large bank of soft colourful blocks on top of which sat our damsel in distress. She looked gorgeous, pale blue satin frock surrounded by lace and matching panties that obviously covered an equally spectacular diaper.

I didn’t get a chance to be reticent because a different boy and girl then led the charge which I was caught up in. Before long I was immersed in a brilliant game which only came to an end when we stopped for milk and cookies.

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It was then I noticed mom was smiling and chatting to the nursey type lady. She waved and I waved back she knew what I needed better than I did. I rushed up to give her a hug.

“Thanks mom… this place is great.”

“Look sweetheart, I now I should have explained about staying here earlier but, I wanted you to see and experience the place before you made any decision.”

She saw the sad look on my face.

“I don’t want to leave but, I have a job and new programmes to learn,” she shook her head and made the funny look of a simpleton, “and I wanted somewhere where I thought you’d be happy and safe.”

I knew she was right but I was scared I’d miss her too much and oddly enough a ripple or fear ran through my body that set me filling my diaper. There was so much going on in my head. Firstly I didn’t know places like this one existed. Secondly, I was going to be without mom. Thirdly, I was having a great time with all these other kids and loved their juvenile attitude, no matter how old they were. I’d played for a few incredible hours with these other kids and not thought about anything other than having fun but now, well…

Mom noticed my change of expression, so did the nursey lady.

“Oh-ho, I think somebody needs a change.”

And before I had chance to protest the nurse took my hand and led me over to a separate changing area.

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I wasn’t alone, a boy and girl, both older than me were being changed side by side. Two nurses were seeing to the clean-up and the fluttering of disposables being flapped out of their packing spread a nice smell of baby powder around the place. Of course there were all kinds of sweet smelling ointments, gels and powder filling the air, which thankfully camouflaged the other all-pervading smell of kiddie accidents.

Disposables were swiftly changed, the rustle of plastic pants pulled up and onesies snapped back into position with superb efficiency was a wonder and whilst I watched the others getting sorted out, so was I.

The boy and girl who’d just been changed waited for me so, once my onesie was connected back over my clean but bulkier diaper, we set off on our next crinkly adventure.
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When I returned to mom she asked if I’d had a good time. I had to admit it had been the best… I loved having friends to play with; it was such a new and liberating experience… I wasn’t on my own any longer.

“Well sweetheart, this is going to be your new home for a short while at least and, whilst I’m away on the course I have to attend, you will be staying with these other boys and girls who live here.”

I could feel my lips quivering and my eyes mist up.

“I won’t be gone long and when I get back… I’ll bring you a lovely present.”

She knew that’s not what I was angling for but the thought did cheer me up a little. She pulled me in for a cuddle and patted my large bulky diaper.

“This place is made for people like you Sweetheart. I only wish I’d found it sooner… you’ve spent an awful lot of time on your own… now you don’t need to, you’ll have friends.”

She gave a little shrug.

“Well, we’re here now and I think this is just what my little Davey needs.”

She kissed the top of my head.

“Do you think you’ll be OK for a couple of weeks?”

My head was embedded in the comfort of mom’s breasts.

I knew mom had work to go to and responsibilities to her new company as well as me, and she’d found what amounted to an absolute oasis for people with my… special needs.

“I’ll be fine mommy, er mom… I er, (sniffle) should be happy here.”

Though it would be a wrench - mom had her things to do and I shouldn’t stand in her way, which intriguingly, as I was dressed as a toddler, was the most adult thought I’d had… ever.

Had she told me of her proposal before I would have doubted such a place could happen and would have protested about being left in someone else’s care. However, now I’d experienced what was on offer I couldn’t fault mom’s scheme. I’d never had so much fun in such a short space of time… and with others… not just on my own. It was GREAT.

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We hugged, I didn’t want to let her go, but eventually I perceived warmth spreading around my groin. It wasn’t a sign; it was just how it turned out. The fabric was filling with ease now I didn’t have to worry and mom saw I was comfortable with those around me; loads of equally happy ‘kids’ wearing thick protection and not caring.

The entire ambience of the ‘academy’ was one of fun and activity. It wasn’t a place for real learning but a location to use when the need for such a diversion was paramount. It was like a hotel or an all-inclusive holiday break, a vacation designed for those who had a particular yearning… our particular yearning.

Eventually, I’d have to return to a ‘proper’ school, a new semester started in a few weeks’ time. Mum would be back in time to make sure that transition would also happen just fine. There was nothing to worry about; it was just a new school, with no doubt a completely different uniform. In the meantime, this was nothing less than a juvenile paradise.

I was left under the excellent supervision of Miss Darling, the nursey looking lady who’d greeted us on our entry. Mom had already unpacked all the items she thought I’d need and anything else, the academy would supply. In fact, all the nurses/teachers/nannies were wonderful and despite my misgivings, time past very quickly whilst under their care.

‘ALEXIARES and ANICETUS ACADEMY’ really lived up to its motto ‘Vestra frui pueritia’

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Re: New School

On the bright side your stories are like the Nickelback of this genre on the dark side your stories are like the Nickelback of the genre… This is good as a stand alone piece but didn’t you do something similar not too long ago with an Aunt instead of a divorced mother… Change it up a bit or the audience will get bored. Not trying to be harsh or anything just all your stories are starting to sound the same, and thats worrying.

Re: New School

I kind of have to agree with Brown Owl, Les. You’re prolific, which is great, but it’s been awhile since you really surprised​ me.

Re: New School

BOO

Not sure that works as a surprise these days :wink:

Not sure about the Nickelback reference either as I’m not sure who they are.

Still, I get the gist.

Buck up.

Do better.

I’ll take that on board and do my best :slight_smile:

Thanks for the critique

1 Like

Re: New School

[QUOTE=Les Lea;68026]BOO

Not sure that works as a surprise these days :wink:

Not sure about the Nickelback reference either as I’m not sure who they are.

Still, I get the gist.

Buck up.

Do better.

I’ll take that on board and do my best :slight_smile:

Thanks for the critique[/QUOTE]
See my thread in Randomizer for more on Nickelback