Auntie Joan Parts 1 - 13 (end)

Auntie Joan

I watched as the latest terror attack was reported in graphic detail by the TV news. Over ninety people so far dead in an explosion in Mumbai that was obviously aimed at the bus full of new army recruits who were on their way back to base. The huge car bomb was so intense that it obliterated the bus and everything within a hundred metre radius, what I didn’t know was that my parents just happened to be passing in their taxi at the time.

My name is Dean Court.

Yes I know it sounds like a venue – ‘Could you book the reception at Dean Court please?’ or ‘Dean Court, the ideal place for your aging parents to live out the rest of their lives in a safe and secure environment’ or more likely ‘Dean Court, oh yes they do a wonderful seafood and champagne brunch’.

However, I’m thirteen, nearly fourteen, and go to a private school in the UK, even though I’m from Washington DC originally. Both my parents work for the government, though I have no idea what they do, but I hardly know them as I was packed off to school the minute I was of the correct age – I was three. Since then I have spent more time away from home and my parents than I have with them. They were quite old, late forties, when they had me but there was never a close bond. I can honestly say I hardly know them and obviously I was some kind of hindrance to their busy careers. I suppose that’s why I ended up at a school I absolutely hate in England but which is conveniently well away from them back home in the USA.

I had no idea why my parents should have been in Mumbai, but when two men and a woman from the embassy arrived at school and I was removed from class to be informed of their deaths, I honestly didn’t know what to think. I was stunned. I asked the agents what mom and dad were doing in India in the first place but they said they didn’t know. I could tell they knew more than they were saying but they were ‘agents’ so weren’t going to tell me anything. None of it made any sense, but whether it made sense or not, the main point was that both my parents had perished in a terrorist attack, in a foreign country and I had no idea why. Perhaps the sad thing was, I didn’t cry, I hardly knew them. I didn’t even know they were in India that’s how invested they were in me. They may have thought I was getting the best education available but I was an unhappy American, in a school riddled with class and discrimination. It may well have been number one for educating the elite of ‘Ye Olde England’ but for me it was a constant and unhappy trial.

The school’s philosophy of keeping their students busy and involved backfired on me. I hated games, I hated my fellow students, I hated being away from home, I hated the teachers that tried to involve me in the way the ethos of the school operated. I hated the over-prissy school uniform along with the fucking UK and all it stood for.

My nickname was ‘Doodle’, they chirpily informed me, as in ‘Yankee Doodle Dandy’ but I never responded to it. The school ‘house’ system annoyed me so much, I couldn’t understand (or want to be involved) in anything that bonded a group of kids, as diverse as we were, over something so stupid as ‘playing for the benefit of the team’ or house in this case. No, I was a very unhappy boy in an institution I couldn’t escape. I resented every second I was there and even more the parents who, without asking or even considering my opinion, sent me to such a prestigious hell hole.

I felt cheated out of my childhood. I’d been handed from one institution to the next since I was three and always with the expectation of the betterment my parents no doubt wanted for, or from, me. Even when I was home the contact between us was minimal and I’d spend a huge amount of time in my room, playing on the computer, reading and waiting to be shipped back to school. Not once do I ever remember my father suggesting we should go to a theme park together, or go swimming, or camping together… or any damn thing that parents do with their kids.

Of course I had everything I wanted… except a family or friends. At school I hated being forced to be friends with people I detested. I wasn’t stupid and my grades were quite good, but I objected to being made to live with people I found objectionable, shallow, self-obsessed and entitled. In return they found me pathetic, dumb, withdrawn and not worthy of any consideration at all. I absorbed more than I showed but gave out very little. Teachers tried to chivvy (God at times I come over so English) me into various pursuits but gave up when my apathy began to corrupt others. I think they didn’t really want me contaminating the other students and I’m sure dad got regular reports on my attitude to school fellowship and all that rubbish entails. On several occasions I’d be called into the house master’s study or the school shrink’s office for a ‘friendly chat’ but I could see their prying ways and offered nothing back. I may have detested my parents but I wasn’t going to give this bunch of ‘professors’ that kind of ammo. I said very little, offering one word answers or subliminal contempt, although I’m not sure just how subliminal I was.

So, my parents being blown to smithereens was a turning point in my life because I was shipped back to Washington DC for a funeral that was attended by some bigwigs from the government. It was so high profile that even the TV companies and press were there but I still couldn’t get a straight answer to my question – ‘what did my parents do?’ It was then I realised that mom and dad must have been pretty important. Although this revelation didn’t make me think any less of them (I was so angry I don’t think I could have thought any less of them), as far as I was concerned they had abandoned me in favour of the state and left for others to bring up… they also did a terrible job.

As both coffins were ceremoniously lowered into the grave I realised I was now an orphan and that as a thirteen year-old I still had no say in my future. I dreaded being returned to school in England to ‘finish my education’ but looked around at the mourners and wondered who, if any of those assembled, would be bothered at what became of me.

I believe that people within the government had tried to find my next of kin. My grandparents were old and unable to take me in, my parents being in their forties when they had me, and the only person they tracked down was dad’s estranged sister Joan who lived out in the mid-west. I hadn’t seen her for over ten years and could hardly remember what she looked like so when the black-clad lady approached with her condolences I had no idea she was to be my future guardian. However, she put an arm around my shoulder and for the first time since the deaths, well, in fact, for the first time in many years; I felt that someone actually cared.

For the next few days she and I lived in my parent’s house as their business was put into some kind of order; the house, their banking details, the compensation from the government for my loss, were all sorted by the family lawyer and my aunt. A trust fund was set up and several other financial, legal and administrative problems overcome. It came as no surprise to me that Aunt Joan was the only person who, albeit reluctantly, was thinking what was best for me.

As I said, I was dreading being punted off back to the UK but thankfully Auntie Joan was dead against it. She didn’t like their privileged educational system and I think more importantly, she detected my complete distaste for the place. I loved her immediately for her insight into what made me tick. It may not seem such a big thing but I can tell you, for the first time in my entire life, I thought I was on the same wavelength as another person.

One night she asked me if I was happy. A simple question and not imbued with any deep meaning but it was the first time I’d been asked about anything and, I’m sad to say, I broke down and cried. I’m thirteen and this was the first time I’d openly cried for as long as I could remember. That one spark of interest in me and my welfare meant the world and I cried and cried whilst being gently consoled by my dad’s estranged sister.

The tears weren’t at the loss of my parents but, as I saw it, the loss of my life that had me so emotional. Again auntie offered comfort and explained she was going to look after me and to forget the pompous school in England… she hoped I’d be OK with that decision. As far as she was concerned I was going to join her back at the little town she called home and where, she assured me, I would have a better life. She said quite deliberately that she would never abandon nor leave me to someone else to bring up; I was too precious to put in other people’s hands. I can’t tell you what a relief her few words were and I felt a whole heap of anger, frustration and entrenched hate suddenly evaporate.

However, her now being my guardian she was also privy to the fact I had another, more personal problem. When I was at the school in the UK, I occasionally wet the bed. I wasn’t even sure if I was doing it on purpose or not, although I certainly didn’t like the name calling or my wet mattress, for some reason I didn’t actually mind wet PJs and the little rebellion it kindled in my head. However, that night time problem persisted whilst back home and even after the funeral I had woken up every morning drenched in a pool of piss. Everyone appeared very understanding knowing the pressure I was obviously under, coming to terms with everything though I didn’t tell them it was an ongoing problem that I’d had for some time. I had no idea if the school had reported back to my parents; however, I felt I should speak to my aunt about it.

I was nervous bringing up the subject but she came into my room one morning and I was just coming to terms with another wet set of PJs. The huge dark damp patch was obvious spreading across my pale blue cotton bottoms. It had even reached my jacket and I couldn’t be sure but I think my room smelled of pee. Luckily, I’d already managed to put a rubber sheet down to protect the mattress so it was only me and the sheets that were wet. I was embarrassed. Normally, if I’d been at school I would have looked defiantly at anyone who thought to make a comment, as if daring them to say something, but at that moment I felt like a silly little kid who couldn’t last a night without pissing himself.

Tears seemed to be something I did now as I guiltily revealed to her what had happened. I don’t cry, well I didn’t cry before, so why they came so easily I wasn’t too sure.

“It’s OK Dean, don’t worry.”

She put her arms around me and gave me a cuddle.

I stifled the sobs that were left.

I explained that this wasn’t a one off, that I’d been a bed-wetter, off and on, for a long time now. I knew I should have grown out of it but, well, I hadn’t and I was sorry if that was going to be a problem for her.

“Don’t be silly Dean, nothing you do will be a problem to or for me, but let’s get you cleaned up and packed, as I think it’s time I… we… went home.”

She smiled the most endearing smile. Like mom and dad she was at least 50 years-old but still had the skin the texture of a woman in her thirties.

Under her mop of faded blonde hair her face radiated warmth and understanding and again I felt protected and safe when Auntie Joan spoke.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” I queried as I looked down at my sodden bedding.

She laughed out loud.

“Sweetie, back home I run a children’s nursery so if a bit of pee or poo worried me, I’d definitely be in the wrong business.”

She urged me to get up, take a shower and dress as she’d booked us on a flight home.

HOME?

I had no idea where in the mid-west I was going to call home but auntie had organised everything, she’d packed up most of my things and had already shipped them out together with one or two mementos and pieces of furniture. She said there was little point in taking too much as she didn’t need it and I didn’t appear that bothered about keeping anything so, most of my clothes and computer had been dispatched and we travelled with minimal luggage.

However, once I was out of the shower and deciding on what to wear for the flight auntie asked me a strange question.

“Will you be OK to travel as you are or would you prefer to wear protection?”

She said it so matter of factly, as if it was something I might have considered in the past but in truth I hadn’t.

“Er, er, no, er I’m OK,” I was still adding up the ramifications of what she’d just asked. Did she suspect that I needed to wear some kind of protection when I travelled?

“OK Sweetheart…”

That was a new term of endearment and one that instantly sent a shiver of pleasure through my body. Nobody, not even my parents, had ever used such a term of endearment… and I loved it.

“…dress for comfort because when we arrive it will be in the 80s and we don’t want a sweat drenched suit to be your first experience of your new home.”

I didn’t have much choice; some stuff was left for the final packing crate so I ended up wearing my undies, a t-shirt, a blue sweatshirt and a pair of knee-length navy blue shorts and navy blue sneakers. Auntie said I looked like a local, which I suppose she meant those I was going to meet for the first time.

She was all smiles and joviality and determined that my parent’s deaths were consigned to history and that I should be treated as a boy about to embark on a new life that I had some control over.

During the flight, and again on the journey from the airport to her… our… home, the fact that she’d asked if I needed protection kept resurfacing in my brain. It wasn’t that I was offended, though I was surprised, but the thought of what that might be like just wouldn’t go away. She was telling me about the town where she, sorry, we called home, a place of just twenty thousand inhabitants in the south-west corner of Kansas. She explained that ‘The Rainbow Rooms Nursery’ (hereinafter called The Rainbow) was her business and where she and a staff of four permanent and four temporary looked after children from babies up to pre-schoolers at five. She explained that sometimes older kids also joined the youngsters in class because that was the age they identified with. I assumed she was being polite and meant that they were slow or had mental problems but, as she didn’t speak that way, I kept those thoughts to myself.

My new home was a two story house comprising off; three bedrooms and two bathrooms upstairs, a kitchen, a living room, a den and large utility room (with toilet and shower facilities) downstairs and an even larger basement. All this was set on a decent plot of land, which auntie had made into a very nice garden with flowers and bushes to all sides and a lawn that swept down to the sidewalk. The street was a mixture of small homes like ours and larger, three story places designed for rich folk or big families. There was quite a selection but the area felt safe and clean and all the exteriors appeared well maintained. We lived at number 46 Glendew Lane and the homes on either side of us were built exactly the same as ours.

Auntie’s room was the largest and at the front of the building whereas mine was one of the two rooms that faced the back garden. The packing cases had already been magically transported to my room although a new bed had yet to be constructed. I sighed a little at the prospect of fixing up my bed because in truth, I was hopeless at anything, even that basics, by way of construction. However, the other bedroom was already set up as a nursery because auntie said that occasionally she babysat or looked after kids whose parents had to go somewhere in an emergency and they needed someone to look out for their child.

Most of the children she babysat were of an age where a nursery was more appropriate than a bedroom, so she kept it prepared for any such crisis. There were a crib and a small bed, both already made up and ready for a little person in need of a place to stay. The crib was all childish fleecy blankets and stuffed animals and I felt a sudden pang in my chest and I wasn’t sure why. The bed was covered by a duvet with Disney characters all over it and a matching pillow. Again, it was stacked with several teddy bears and other stuffed animals. I swallowed hard, standing in the doorway wishing I could just curl up with them and go to sleep. For some reason I couldn’t get my breath and my heart was pounding, I thought I was having some sort of panic attack or delayed response to my parents death and I started to cry.

God damn it, what is wrong with me?

Unaware of her presence auntie seemed to know I was struggling with something and came and put her arms around me. The roar that left my chest as I bawled like a two year-old was quite uncontrollable and I wept into auntie’s bosom just like that toddler would. She soothed my distress and stroked my hair, it was a feeling that was alien to me and I couldn’t get enough of it. Eventually, she guided me towards the bed and we sat to talk. The bed had rails around to stop a child from falling out but on one side the rail was down so we made ourselves comfortable there. In due course I was able to get my tears under control and we chatted like we hadn’t done before.

To get things rolling she explained the function of the room, even though it was pretty obvious; the toys, the piles of diapers, plastic pants, wipes and lotions, ointments and powders. What I hadn’t noticed, though auntie had, was that I’d wet myself whilst being so affected by the room. There was a damp stain on my shorts, enough to flag my wet situation, but she just patted my back and asked if I’d mind if she sorted me out. I wasn’t completely sure what that meant but I was too emotional to think straight and in truth I was tired and just glad I didn’t have to concern myself with any of it.

She told me not to worry; she’d done this a thousand times and with boys my age so not to be embarrassed. She stripped me out of all my clothes and lay me out naked on the bed. She asked if I thought I needed to go to the toilet but I think it was too late for that, so shook my head. She then wiped my damp pubic area and towelled me dry before applying a scented lotion and rubbed in some baby powder. None of this bothered me I was now so relaxed in her caring hands I needed it to continue, I’d never felt so wanted. Once she was satisfied I was happy and not anxious about anything she reached up and grabbed a large disposable. She unfurled it as I watched, and although part of me was saying ‘no’, another part was hoping she’d just tape me in and I’d have no say in the situation. This was exactly what she did.

I was clean, warm and snug as she juggled a pair of opaque plastic pants up and over the diaper. She then reached for a blue cotton t-shirt and fed my arms and head into it before rolling it down my body. I hadn’t noticed the snaps at the bottom as she fastened me in.

“I think Dean you are just one tired little boy… so why don’t you just climb into bed,” She pulled down the duvet cover and invited me in, “and get a good night’s sleep?”

It wasn’t a question, I was well tuckered out and at that moment I yawned and felt that sleep was just what I needed. She stroked my hair for a few moments before slipping a teddy into my arms, which I snuggled tightly. My eyes were closed but I could hear the rails being pulled up and click into position but I was too sleepy to think any more about it. I heard her say night-night from the door and then I was alone.

to be continued…

Re: Auntie Joan

:laugh: Great start ,please gie us more

Re: Auntie Joan

Great story so far! Can’t wait to read more!!

Re: Auntie Joan

Please continue with this story I enjoy it

Re: Auntie Joan

Hi,
Many thanks for the comments I know I say it all the time but I really do appreciate you’ve taken the time to do so. :wink:

I hope to have part 2 with you in the next day or two :wink:

Again THANKS :wink:

Re: Auntie Joan

:angel: Love this one its a good start Kevin? ::slight_smile:

Re: Auntie Joan Parts 1-2

Part 2

I had a fitful night’s sleep; the same dream kept occurring time and time again.

I was uncomfortable because my diaper had become bunched up and annoying. In my dream I kept trying to pull it down and rearrange it but my tiny hands couldn’t actually grasp anything because of the covering thick glossy plastic pants. I became frustrated and grumpy and began to cry. Auntie came in, soothed away the tears and in her gentle embrace the diaper didn’t seem to be a problem so I could relax. Strangely enough I managed to slip into the crook of her arm like I was just a baby.

To help settle even more she handed over a teddy bear, which was wonderful to touch so I cuddled that, as she cuddled me, and eventually we all dropped off together. However, sometime later the exact same dream would occur and I’d begin to feel irritable and try to lose the diaper all over again, and with the same outcome. It was no surprise then when I did awake (I think it was the sound of the rail being unclicked and eased down) to see Auntie Joan beaming down at me.

“Hello sweetie, hope you slept well, I didn’t hear a peep out of you all night so I reckon somebody needed his sleep.”

It was wonderful waking up to a smiling, friendly face and as I yawned and stretched myself into wakefulness, she drew back the blinds to reveal a lovely sunny morning.

I lay under the warm duvet feeling happy and that was a feeling I hadn’t woken up to for such a long time.

“Now sweetie, don’t take this the wrong way,” she raised her eyebrows in a most comical way, “but are you wet?”

I was smiling myself and shook my head at first but then became aware of just exactly what I was wearing. Up until that moment I’d completely forgotten that I’d been put in a diaper the night before. However, I didn’t feel wet like I had when at school or more recently at home. Nevertheless, as I gave it some thought and ran my hand over the bulge at my groin I realised that it was definitely bigger and smoother under my, er, what was that, I touched the metal snaps under my crotch, a onesie?, that I must have done something.

I made a face, which I hoped looked like I wasn’t actually admitting to anything but also that I might have done.

She said, “Well it doesn’t matter we can sort it out later.”

She pulled back my cover to reveal my bulky groin.

“Let’s have some breakfast and then we’ll decide what to do for the rest of the day.”

The room was already warming up because it looked and felt like it was going to be another glorious sunny, hot Kansas day. My pale (English) bare legs stuck out from this huge swelling diaper but, and I strangely found it reassuring, there was no tell-tale stain on my blue onesie, whatever I’d done was all contained.

My undignified waddle down stairs and into the kitchen was a little disturbing, well, disturbing in a way I wasn’t quite expecting because I simply didn’t mind. Auntie had dressed me appropriately for bed just in case I wet, and now that I knew I had, I thought how brilliant it was that she’d had such foresight to know precisely what was needed for my comfort. I loved my auntie even more at that moment; she was interested in me and cared. So, as we sat and ate breakfast, with me perched on top of a very thick diaper; I wondered what other surprises this woman had up her sleeve.

I asked why she and my father had not been on speaking terms for so long and it was the first time I saw her radiant smile fail.

“Well you’ve asked, so I’m going to tell you but I’m not sure you’ll understand my reaction.”

A shiver of worry slipped down my spine as I wondered if I’d crossed a line and so quickly ruined something that had seemed so wonderful.

“Bill, your Uncle Bill, who I doubt you’ll remember, was on his way to an interview that your father had set up.”

I sat nervously waiting for the story to unravel and I began to wish I’d never asked. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to know, I was just worried things would change between me and Auntie Joan.

“It was a job I’d begged Bill not to pursue but your father, my big brother, had taken it upon himself to push Bill into at least going for an interview.”

She looked over at me to see how I was reacting.

“Unfortunately, on the freeway to Kansas City a fuel truck spun out of control, off the highway and across into oncoming traffic. The truck exploded and took out another truck and four cars travelling in the opposite direction. All the occupants, including my husband were consumed in the fireball…”

She gulped back tears and I swallowed hard as another shudder passed through my body. It was weird that I felt more sympathy for a man I didn’t remember dying in such a dramatic and awful manner than I did with my own parents. This was not the story I’d expected and was desperately sorry I’d made auntie relive the experience. I wanted to comfort her. I got up and shuffled round until I had my hands on her shoulders and I could feel her body shaking with grief.

“Ohh, I’m so sorry.” I muttered in a whisper. “I didn’t mean to…”

My words seemed stupid and useless at that moment so I just continued stroking her shoulder and offering my chest for her to weep into.

After a few seconds she calmed herself and continued.

“I’d begged Bill not to go and more importantly, to me at the time, I’d begged your father to keep out of our affairs. I know he thought he was trying to help but, I’d already told him I didn’t want Bill working for the government, and I certainly didn’t want to move to Kansas City had he got the job. But my brother, as always, knew best and was so controlling.”

She reached up and gently touched my hand.

“I don’t know if you remember, but you, you were about three then, your mom and dad came to the funeral…”

I did have a vague recollection of travelling somewhere but thought it was a party of some kind. I’d forgotten that I’d actually, very briefly, visited this town before.

“Henry, your dad, was most apologetic because I hadn’t known exactly how hard he’d pushed Bill into accepting the interview. Once I did we had an enormous row… and I told him and your mother… that I blamed them completely for interfering in our life. As a result I ordered them, and that included an innocent toddler… you… to get out and that I never wanted to see any of you again.”

I was crying in sympathy for my aunt’s loss and I remembered how ‘domineering’ my father always was. I could imagine him pressuring someone else into accepting his decision so I hugged my aunt and we sobbed together.

Eventually she came up for air and finished her account.

“I wasn’t going to go to their funeral, even after all this time I was still so bitter about it, but the man who came to tell me what had happened in Mumbai also told me about you and that, as your only real family member, they hoped I’d take care of you.”

She looked me in the eye and told me straight.

“To be honest… I wasn’t sure… but when I met you I couldn’t get over what a wonderful boy you were. Even though you were detached from the entire ceremony I detected an inner vulnerability I just couldn’t ignore. After we’d spoken, and I got the impression of your own thoughts about your parents, I desperately wanted to take you away from people I reckoned didn’t understand you. I detected a lot of built up anger… just like me… and I knew we needed each other to, well, start again”

She added almost apologetically.

“I’ve never had kids of my own, Bill and I never got around to it but I’ve immersed myself in Rainbow. I love children, I offer them a safe place to grow and play, so why on earth would I turn my back on my own flesh and blood?”

She hugged me tightly.

“I wanted desperately to look after you and give you what your parents failed to deliver, a loving and supportive environment in which to grow.”

She held me at arm’s length, this was getting very intense and I wasn’t sure I could cope with it all.

“However, I wonder if I’m too late. I see the rage you have kept bottled within and the upset at the childhood I think you feel you’ve lost, would you trust someone else? I wasn’t sure until I saw your reaction to the nursery and how keen and desperate you were to find some comfort in such a simple place.”

She smiled through her red, tear stained eyes.

“You looked the same as any child I’ve had at the nursery… happy to be in a place where you are supposed to be safe and have fun.”

I couldn’t say anything because she was correct. That room had made me feel safe. All I wanted to do was stay there and sleep because I knew it was a room where I could feel happy and content. Even the pile of diapers and the smell of baby powder hanging in the air were offering me a feeling of, of, joy and satisfaction. But it was the sensation of pure euphoria I experienced as auntie diapered and put me to bed, that just added the final dimension to my feeling of being home.

She thought for a few seconds.

“How would you feel if I could give you back some aspects of your childhood?”

I didn’t know what to say to that but oddly a spurt of pee escaped into my sodden nappy. I was more aware of the fact that I was dressed as a toddler already and wondered if that was what she meant.

“Do you mean, er, all this?”

I indicated what I was wearing.

“Do you want me to be a baby?” I asked with more than a touch of disbelief.

She held my hand tightly.

"That would be up to you but what I can offer is a place for you to learn to be a kid again. To play, make friends, laugh, cry… but all in your own time. "

She seemed convinced she could make this happen even if I was unsure.

“The offer is there should it be something you feel you’d like to at least try?”

My head was buzzing with mixed emotions. How could I possibly be a toddler again, it just didn’t make sense? You can’t go backwards, the school in the UK, even though it was stuck in some kind of time warp itself, was very progressive in its teaching methods.

“We are constantly moving forwards, we need to make the future our priority.”

I could almost hear Mr Cartwright’s lesson, he was all about developing strategies for the betterment of man.

“We learn the lessons of the past but we march into a future we help create.”

He was one of the few teachers that I had any time for but… well… it wasn’t what I needed at that particular moment.

Wondering if I could live my childhood all over again seemed a foolish notion even if I was sitting in a wet diaper. I was nearly fourteen for heaven’s sake and worldly wise in so many ways, besides, wouldn’t I be required to go to school in my new home town?

There’s no doubt about it, Kansas is hot this time of year. Even though we were indoors the heat of the day was already quite oppressive as I wondered back upstairs. I entered my bedroom and again the packing cases and literally unmade bed sent a shiver of apprehension down my spine. I went over to where I’d slept the night and the calming atmosphere of the place, or maybe it was the smell, but something immediately made me feel at ease. I was standing in a soaked diaper and a tight-fitting onesie but yet felt at peace, even more so, when I wondered over to the Disney bed I’d slept in and hugged the teddy that comforted me throughout the night. There was something about this room that I didn’t understand. Why was I drawn here and why was I so happy to be in a place where a baby would normally sleep? I was perplexed.

Auntie had of course followed me and gently asked if I needed help changing. It was weird that whilst in that room, that was precisely what I needed.

She took my silence as acquiescence and immediately came over and began to un-pop the studs around my crotch. She lifted the soft onesie over my head (which tickled and I let out a very childish giggle) and then eased my plastic pants over the thick diaper and down my legs, making me lift them one at a time as she pulled them off. I was just transfixed at the gentle way she went about her business, very obviously in control but with a touch that spoke to me more than words alone could do. The retaining tabs were broken and my sopping diaper was lightly guided away as auntie held it so as not to mess anything else. She tapped my bottom and headed me to the shower.

As I wriggled under the warm jets, enjoying the soft massage they offered, I gave more thought to auntie’s offer. I wasn’t sure what exactly it would entail but I knew for definite that I liked, no, make that LOVED, what auntie had said and done so far. In just a few days she had gained my confidence and I was more than happy to go along with any and all her suggestions because even then, I knew she would not steer me into doing something I disliked. I trusted my auntie completely and that was something I’d never done with anyone else.

I wrapped a towel around myself and headed for my shambolic bedroom where all the boxes with my clothes in were. I arrived in the doorway full of dread at having to eventually sort it all out when I heard auntie call me from the nursery.

“Dean baby, come here for a moment please.”

She stood at the side of the low bed, which she’d already remade (although I suppose just straightening a sheet and duvet wasn’t going to take long) and indicated that she’d got my clothes ready for the day.

“I hope you don’t mind but I thought these would be appropriate for the day as they are loose and light and I think you’ll feel more comfortable wearing them in our…” she said it with a huge grin as if she was a travel spokesperson for The Kansas Tourist Board, “welcoming heat?”

I laughed and shrugged, at least it saved me time rummaging around in various boxes trying to find what was where.

“Now then sweetie, a bit of a decision time.”

I looked at her with a slight scowl wondering why she was making me make a decision at all; she’d done pretty well so far.

She held up a pair of my white CK trunks.

“These,” she said wafting them around for a couple of seconds, “or these?”

In her other hand she held up a fresh clean disposable.

I was dumbfounded. I’d happily slept in the disposable but I wasn’t sure I would feel comfortable wearing a diaper during the day, when I was out in public, I mean, what would people think?

I voiced these concerns as I wrapped the towel more tightly around my body, wishing I really didn’t have to make up my mind.

“OK Dean, how about this? Today you wear your pants, but tonight you’ll wear these.”

She waved the disposable at me.

“In the morning I’ll ask you again and then you’ll make a decision and we’ll go with that. OK?”

I nodded my agreement but she still indicated for me to lie out on the bed.

“Look you’ve spent the night in a damp diaper so I think you still need some lotion and powder to prevent getting a rash.”

I could see the sense in what she was saying so, without any reluctance, I dropped my towel and lay out. As she set about rubbing in some rather nice oil she mentioned that if I was going to be wearing diapers regularly I might have to think, for hygiene reasons, to lose the pubic hair I was now sprouting in abundance.

She smiled as she said this and I was so enthralled by her slippery fingers coating my genitals I put up no resistance and murmured my agreement. I wasn’t really thinking just happy in the moment as my lower body enjoyed a sensation it had never experienced before. I know some of the boys at school had ‘experimented’ in such a way but I suppose my fierce and unfriendly attitude had precluded me from such ‘games’.

Once she had finished I was sporting a boner which she just flicked, smiled and mumbled something about “Oh you boys” before pulling up my white trunks. I was a little sad it ended there and then a sudden feeling of horror rippled through my body as I thought how disgusting I must be to have thought my auntie was going to ‘finish me off’. I could see and feel my entire body glow with the red of shame.

However, auntie seemed unconcerned about my sordid body and handed me a pair of soft khaki cotton twill shorts and a white t-shirt. I was so ashamed I hurriedly pulled up the shorts and got myself in a tangle as I tried to put my head through the arm hole of my t-shirt. To say I was embarrassed would be the least I was feeling but auntie checked me out and said what a smart boy I was and suggested she show me the Rainbow Rooms Nursery, which wasn’t very far away.

The shorts I wore was a pair that I’d stopped wearing because I thought they were too short but, with the sun bearing down, I appreciated that auntie had given me a chance against the heat. Besides that, I really wanted to get my legs a better colour than the pale white pallid hue they’d become thanks to the British climate. We walked less than two hundred yards down the road and around a corner to auntie’s business.

The Rainbow Rooms Nursery was in a low, single story building, which had been specially constructed for Auntie Joan quite a number of years earlier and had become something of a mainstay and useful edition to the facilities of the area. Auntie told me that she was always busy and could have expanded to twice the size and still filled the place had she wanted to. However, building regulations and practicalities meant she knew what was manageable and liked what she had. Kids she’d looked after before were now bringing their children for her to look after and liked the friendliness and continuity she was able to offer.

Because it was the weekend there were no children in the place and as she showed me around I began to get that same feeling I’d had when I first went into the bedroom nursery, a feeling of calm and pleasure. It had the same atmosphere of sweet smelling powder and… babies. There were shelves of books, activity areas, toys nicely stacked in huge clear boxes or hanging on the walls held together by nets. Bigger toys, which the kids could ride, were dotted around the main room, whilst the walls were decorated with the alphabet, numbers and joyful furry animals with balloons of speech coming out of their mouths. “Be nice”, “Think of others”, “Have fun”, “Joey the Giraffe says: Let’s grow together” and other such sweet sayings.

In my head I could almost ‘see’ the children playing and wondered if their carefree essence now permeated the entire building? In another, quiet room, there were a host of little mats laid out on the floor for after lunch naptime. Again I almost caught myself curling up and settling down for an afternoon nap, well, in my mind at least.

Auntie said that the number of kids who wet themselves when they were napping is incredible so they were always at their busiest straight after they had all woken up. The queue for a diaper change was long but efficiently handled by her and the staff. She smiled as she showed me the changing area with its piles of diapers and stuff, not dissimilar to the one back home in the third bedroom. Outside there were other activities like a Jungle Gym with slides and climbing frames, swings and all manner of fun things for kids to enjoy. There were toys and objects available for smaller kids, babies, who could sit in a huge playpen and safely play away from the older, more energetic, members of the group.

I was impressed. The whole ambience of the place was uplifting and I could see why auntie had chosen this as her business. I couldn’t think of anything more rewarding than to watch and encourage little kids to play and grow, have fun and enjoy life.

God how I wished I could have had all that.

From ‘The Rainbow’ we picked up auntie’s car and drove into town where she showed me around. The centre wasn’t massive but seemed nice and to have all the stores, restaurants and other necessities a place this size needed. We parked up and went for lunch in the main mall. I was surprised just how well known auntie was. Almost everyone nodded and smiled as we passed.

“Hi Miss Marsden” was followed by a nervous giggle from both boys and girls, whilst “Good Morning Joan” was followed by a little bit of gossip from the grown-ups. I was introduced to a few of her friends but without the history lesson, I didn’t want them to feel sorry for the poor kid who’d just lost his parents to terrorists. As it was she introduced me as her nephew who was now living with her but without any further explanation. That left a few people with bemused looks on their faces and you could see they desperately wanted to know more about this ‘mysterious youth’. I think auntie was enjoying keeping the full story to herself and watching the features on some straining for more facts.

We had, what I can honestly say, was the best pizza I’d ever had. In the UK I was never overly happy with what they described as pizza, and although I loved the ones our cook in DC made, this was by far superior. I was delighted to sit in that air-conditioned paradise and stuff my face, whilst sucking up gallons of soda, until my belly felt fit to burst. Auntie Joan gave the impression she was pleased that I’d got at least some of my appetite back and encouraged me to finish off with a huge ice cream sundae. I was in heaven.

After lunch, as we walked around, I appreciated even more the lightweight outfit that auntie had chosen for me to wear. It felt nice as air circulated with each step, which gave a very pleasant feeling around my groin.

We went to a store to buy new bedding for my ‘proper’ room but for some reason all the styles I liked were particularly childish. Auntie didn’t seem perturbed by my choice.

“It’s you who’ll be sleeping in them so… the choice is yours.”

She wasn’t that bothered either when I chose a particular fleecy looking blanket that, in my mind at least, I hoped would settle me down on a night as I hugged something so soft and gentle. She did point out that we had plenty of similar items already back at the house but understood why I might want my own.

We went to a couple of clothes stores because she thought I might need a completely different set of fashionable items to fit in with the ‘locals’ and to suit the extreme weather. However, I’d stupidly been holding in my desperate desire for a pee. My bloated bladder was calling out for release but I held on hoping that I could last until we finished shopping before I needed to go. Alas, a sudden pain shot from my bladder to the end of my dripping cock and forced me to rush off to find a restroom. Unfortunately, it was out of order, and the one thing I was keen to avoid in public… happened.

What started as a small dark stain suddenly erupted into a huge ever-growing splurge as I couldn’t control the flow. My CK trunks did the best they could but they were no defence from the torrent that suddenly decided to gush forth. I was both embarrassed and terrified as I bent over to try and hide the developing accident and the yellowing trickle down my legs and onto the floor. Thankfully, auntie saw the situation arising so was already guiding me out to the car and soon we were safely on our way home. I could hardly speak I was so humiliated at what had happened and just hoped that I hadn’t shamed auntie.

She seemed completely unconcerned about the fact that I’d wet myself but more bothered about my feelings.

‘Was I OK?’

‘I wasn’t to worry; we’d soon be home where she’d sort me out.’

I was in tears.

I felt guilty about sitting on her car seats, the front of my khaki shorts now dark and damp, but she told me I shouldn’t worry it was easy to wipe clean. As my blubbing quietened I simply felt uncomfortable (and stupid) wearing my soaked pants. At the back of my mind I couldn’t help but think that this wouldn’t have happened if I’d worn a diaper, or if it had, I wouldn’t look like I did… a big wet baby.

Once home I quickly ran upstairs casting off my wet pants as I went and threw myself down on the Disney bed feeling self-conscious and silly.

However, auntie came in and applied baby wipes to clean me up. The sweet scent filling my nostrils and making me feel at peace again. Once more she offered me a choice of briefs or diaper. This time I accepted the diaper. She powdered and taped me tightly in and then without asking slipped up a pair of thick blue vinyl pants to keep it all contained. She then disappeared into my room and returned with my navy blue shorts and guided me into them. It wasn’t that I was too numb to do this for myself it was just nice that auntie was there to help.

to be continued…

Re: Auntie Joan Parts 1-2

Great part 2 can’t wait to see what happens next maybe have him revert to baby talk too

Re: Auntie Joan Parts 1-2

:)have to tell you how much I love your writing style. You must really take your time with the story because they flow so nicely. Please keep going. I am you fan

Re: Auntie Joan Parts 1-2

Hi Guys :wink:

Thanks again for your comments, it’s nice to know when something clicks with the reader (or two) :wink:

Working on Part 3… I really like Dean he seems damaged but nice. I think Auntie Joan is perhaps not the only one who’d want to look after him? :wink:

Hugs to all :wink:

Re: Auntie Joan Parts 1-2

This is a really great story and the writing is extremely well done. Thanks for writing it.

Re: Auntie Joan Parts 1-2-3

Part 3

When she’d finished her ministrations and I tentatively got up, the feeling of my crotch wrapped in a fresh, clean and dry set of padding was so much nicer. The soft bulk seemed so natural and auntie said I looked a lot happier. I was but didn’t know that my pleasure could actually be seen. For the rest of the day I sat out in the garden letting the sun toast my legs, enjoying the attention of auntie (she continually applied sun-screen) as we sat and talked about everything.

I asked her for information on the school here in town, which I assumed I’d be attending, but she was surprisingly noncommittal about it. She said there were various forms but as yet had not sent them in so I didn’t have a school for the time being. I wasn’t sure if I should be pleased or not but auntie pointed out that I’d been through a very traumatic experience and she at least thought I needed some time to heal. The forms would be filled out when she thought I was ready and not before. There she was again thinking of what I might need and giving me time to sort things out for myself.

Auntie was very definite about some things, one of which was that I shouldn’t worry about using the diaper for what it’s designed for – pee and poop. I laughingly said I couldn’t imagine wanting to do either, although I had peed without knowing I was doing so. However, she said that if I did, it didn’t matter, just let her know when and she’d change me.

Part of me was horror struck at the very idea of pooping my pants, at my age it was a definite no-no and something I’d never done even at school; that would have been just too gross even for my touch of the rebel.

“Doodle’s pissed his bed… again.” Or a chorus of “He’s my Yankee Doodle Peepants” sang to that wonderful show tune, which never got boring… yeah, right. Those mocking voices of my school colleagues never really got to me because they were never said with any venom, just resigned acceptance. I obviously wasn’t the only bed-wetter in the place, as classy as it was.

In spite of this, and for some strange reason I wasn’t aware of, I was pleased that at least for auntie it wasn’t a problem.

I suppose because she dealt with little kids in diapers all day, the thought of poop and pee was of no consequence, no matter who it came from. I didn’t want to poop but considered that, as I was now wearing a diaper and plastic pants, perhaps getting to a toilet and taking the thing off, might be more of a problem than just doing it. I giggled to myself at that very thought.

As I was thinking about this the sensation of a little spurt of pee warmed my diaper and it felt nice. A moment later, and again what started as a little dribble, turned into a full surge. I went very quiet as my bladder emptied itself into my comfy diaper and thought I could tell that auntie knew just what had happened.

It was a weird sensation and I don’t just mean the warming of my crotch. No, there was a definite shiver of, er, something, sorry, I’m not expressing this very well but… when I peed myself my body seemed to be ‘happy’ about it. I wasn’t horrified, I wasn’t ashamed, I didn’t immediately excuse myself, I, I… I didn’t do anything except happily sit in my flooded diaper. Something else happened, I liked the slight rustling from the plastic pants as I shifted somewhat so that the pee could get absorbed more evenly by the disposable. It was as if I was helping my diaper do its work. Weird eh?

We carried on talking and after a few minutes, when I thought I’d managed to get through it without her realising after all, she informed me that I should probably have a change as sitting around in such dampness would cause problems later on. She asked me to come up to the bathroom in a few minutes and went off to do whatever it was she wanted to do. I rubbed the front of my shorts and examined the increased volume of the expanded diaper underneath – I found it strangely comforting. The mound made me look particularly sexless and at the same time emphasised my crotch, the thought of the wet diaper and plastic pants giving me a raging hard on that I hoped to get rid of before I ventured up to see auntie.

The bath was full and she stood by its side armed with a loofah and various lotions and potions. I was surprised to see that the water itself wasn’t filled with bubbles but she helped me out of my clothes and asked me to wait a moment before getting into the bath. I didn’t need any help but she seemed determined to make sure I was safe so guided me through this simplest of tasks.

Yes, I can’t deny it, I was enjoying the attention.

After years and years of absolutely no familial contact I was obviously going to grasp at what was offered and luxuriate in the care and attention auntie was bestowing on me. At school we were often naked in front of one and other and the regular check-ups from the doctor, sports coaches and the intimate living conditions meant you simply couldn’t be shy around others.

Firstly auntie coated me with a cream that left a glow to every part of my body it touched. She daubed a huge heap of the stuff onto my genitals and smoothed it in making sure every follicle was covered. Again I got that sexual feeling I’d had in the garden but tried to keep it from taking a hold, or stiffening up, whilst auntie was working ‘down there’.

“You’re being a very brave little soldier.”

She kissed the top of my head, though I wasn’t sure what I was being particularly brave about but thought maybe she was just humouring the situation as she would comfort a small child. It was nice and to be truthful, I felt like a little kid in her hands. She made me feel free to be me, and I was so grateful to be offered such freedom. Meanwhile, she continued to rub more and more lotion around my body and up into my arse crack.

That set my cock throbbing and I could also feel something else brewing deep in my balls. The warming balm made everything feel like it was glowing and that piqued and sensitized all my nerve endings. However, before it got too intense she started scrubbing my body down with the loofah and I saw that all my fine hair was coming off with it. Pretty soon she had removed all my hair and my genitals looked like I was a three year-old, except a bit bigger.

She sat me down in the water and then sponged the rest of my body to get rid of any excess cream. She shampooed my hair and asked if I’d mind if she cut it a little. I rather liked my long blondish hair but, as she pointed out, I’d probably suffer itchiness from sweating in the sun if I kept it too long. She’d been correct so far so I nodded. As she went off to get the scissors I examined my now hairless pubic area. It felt so soft and smooth and looked rather, special. I rubbed it lightly and the soft silky feel was quite a turn on but I doubted I could masturbate before auntie returned.

Moments later I was right, as she came in with a pair of hair clippers, and got me out of the bath to dry me down. Once I was thoroughly towelled she had me stand on a piece of newspaper as she set about cutting my hair. She was no bespoke hairdresser and styled my hair in the simplest way possible. She just ran the clippers from front to back on a setting that left me with a very short haircut indeed. The buzzing implement making short work of my long locks but in next to no time her task was complete. It was a dramatic change of image but auntie appeared pleased with her work no matter how much of a shock it was to me. Taking a damp sponge she removed any fallen hairs from my now denuded body and led me into the nursery.

“Sweetie, I think after today we’ll give your underpants a miss and settle on diapers for the foreseeable future. Is that OK with you?”

I was standing naked and she was fussing around my lower region seemingly pulling off stray and loose hairs. My silky cock was showing signs of rearing up again but my mind was begging it to go down I didn’t want auntie to think I was some kind of pervert.

“OK sweetheart, it looks like that,” she said gently flicking my cock, “is going to be a bit troublesome for you but, I’ll sort that out tomorrow, in the meantime, let’s get you into your bed time diapers.”

It was only around 6pm and I wondered if she was putting me to bed early for some reason.

“Is it bed time already?”

I asked nervously wondering if I was being punished for wetting in public.

“No Dean, it’s just, well, you’re all clean and tidy, so it seems silly dressing you again only to get you ready for bed again later on. Why do a job twice, you’re not planning on going anywhere this evening… er… are you?”

She gave me that cute, accusing mock look as if I’d been organising something on my own without discussing it with her first but of course I hadn’t.

“Noooo.” I shyly shrugged like a toddler would.

“So, that’s settled. I’ll get you ready and then we can spend the rest of the evening not having to worry about a thing as it’s already done.”

Of course auntie made complete sense and as she guided me in to the nursery I noticed the Disney duvet pulled back and ready for me to climb in. I was happy about that, as I didn’t really want to start and build my real bed just yet. I’d had such a wonderful sleep the previous night, so in a way, I was looking forward to sleeping there again. On the floor was set out a plastic changing mat, she said that I’d be too heavy for the one on top of the dresser where she changed the babies in her care, and set against that were a pile of diapers and stuff.

Her calming hands were soon covering my entire body in a slick of sweet smelling oil, her slippery fingers taking special notice of my recently sheared pubic area and bottom, where at her soft touch again I got those horny sensations travelling along my cock. Auntie took absolutely no notice and continued smoothing in the mollifying balm. To finish she sprinkled a cloud of even sweeter smelling powder over everything before reaching for a thick fabric diaper.

I was intrigued about how she had all this stuff that appeared to fit me so well.

“Well, I told you that occasionally we have older boys and girls who come to the nursery.”

I nodded that I remembered.

“I have to be prepared for most eventualities so I have diapers, plastic pants and various other items in large sizes that I hope would fit a teen boy or girl. As it is, over a number of years I’ve had clothing sent to me for approval from various companies (and grateful parents) so have stacks of old and new items that should cover just about any age group.”

She beamed that smile that brought the cross examination to a close, and in truth, it had answered all my queries.

All this had been said as she folded me into a double thick diaper and pulled a pair of nursery print plastic pants up over it all. I was a bit shocked at how childish it looked but before I had an opportunity to complain, she was pulling another cotton onesie, in the same print as the plastic pants, over my head and snapping it together under my crotch. It was very bulky, much bulkier than the previous night’s protection so wriggled about in it to try and get comfortable. The thing was - it was very comfortable - I was just making a show of the fact I was wearing it all. The other ‘problem’ was I actually loved the silliness and juvenile look I was now sporting. In my head I was a happy toddler, what I was wearing was of no importance, what was, the fact I was comfortable and HAPPY.

Auntie could tell immediately that I was in a place that I loved. She had read my mind and come up with something that I would never have asked for or knew I desired, yet here I was, ecstatic in my new childish outfit. Even though it was so early I was in two minds whether to crawl straight into bed but auntie had other ideas and we went downstairs for our evening meal in front of the TV.

After we’d fed ourselves I cuddled up next to her and we watched some programmes that I can’t remember. What I do remember was the joy I felt as she stroked my hair and patted my bulky bottom. After what felt like a lifetime of anger and frustration I’d eventually found what I hoped for, a family that loved me and a place I wanted to be. It’s so easy to drift off when you’re relaxed and I slipped in and out of sleep as auntie’s warm body and comforting caresses left me feeling utterly content. I don’t know what time I eventually climbed up to bed but, with auntie’s guiding hand, I slipped under the Disney duvet, was given my teddy bear and a feeling of serenity filled my body. I vaguely heard the rail being pulled up and clicked into position but I was so comfortable, and perhaps even in a state of bliss, that within moments I’d slipped into deep sleep.

I woke up and it was Sunday morning. Back in the UK, the entire school had to go to church and I didn’t know if auntie had similar leanings. However, just moments after my bearings had returned she came in like a breath of fresh air and slid down the rail.

“Morning poppet.”

This was a new term of sweet talk and I wriggled in pure pleasure on hearing it.

“I left you to sleep a little longer than usual, you looked like you could do with the extra hours but, there’s no rush for you to get up if you don’t want to.”

She looked at me and then around the room.

“You can stay and play up here if you want but come down and join me for breakfast when you’re ready.”

She was speaking to me as if I was a little kid and I didn’t mind. In fact, I giggled as I bounced teddy on my chest thinking about what exactly I planned to do.

She was like a whirlwind as she picked up various little bits and bats off the floor, drew back the blinds, kissed me and teddy as we lay curled up in bed and patted my padded bottom.

“We’ll get that sorted after breakfast.”

She smiled and was gone leaving me to stretch and wallow in my lovely warm bed. I had this strange thought that all the Disney characters on the covers had encouraged me to a peaceful night’s sleep so I was mentally thanking them all… one by one.

I reached below the duvet to feel the thick wadding and knew I was very wet. Once again I’d been so relaxed as I slept that getting up and going to the bathroom had never occurred to me. Actually, I couldn’t remember even knowing I had to go so, that was new. It hit me that with the rails up I might, in the dark, have trouble finding my way to the bathroom anyway.

No sooner had that thought entered my head than it was gone and replaced by the sight of a couple of toys that had been left out. I didn’t know if she’d done it on purpose but there appeared to be a train and racing car next to the diaper pail and their bright colours were beckoning me over. I eased myself up, the thickness of the padding making me roll rather the climb out of bed and over to the two models.

I caught sight of myself in the mirror and had forgotten just how short my hair now was. Coupled with the baby print onesie and the enormous padding I looked like the biggest toddler in the world. I was shocked but giggled at my reflection, the plastic pants gripped tightly to the top of my leg and could easily be seen bulging out under the onesie, thankfully it all matched so…?

I wasn’t sure ‘so what’ but the fact that it all co-ordinated pleased me as I admired my reflection. I hadn’t had chance to appreciate exactly what I looked like before, but now, well, I was a kid again. Everything about me gave the impression I was a big, incontinent kid. Auntie had given me, visually at least, the opportunity to be a toddler again. A shudder of excitement passed through my body as I deliberately sat down with a squish on my well soaked padded bottom.

I spent the next half hour or so pushing the toys around and making various noises not quite believing that I was enjoying playing, and playing on my own. I couldn’t remember ever having done this before, I know I must have at some point but, this just felt like an entirely new experience. Eventually I heard auntie calling breakfast was ready, so I reluctantly left them parked under my bed and slowly shuffled down stairs.

After breakfast she insisted, while she tidied around, and so I wouldn’t get under her feet, I go and play in the garden. I was still wet and dressed in my night time ensemble (see the British education filled me with words I never thought I’d use) and though I felt a bit nervous about doing so, I wondered into the morning air and immediately loved the feeling of being in an open space dressed as I was. The slight breeze caught my hairless legs and it felt cooling, I liked the feeling so much I thought it would be silly to ever have them covered up again.

I sat out and relaxed. The birds were singing and it was as if it was the first time I’d ever really listened to birdsong. I could hear other kids playing out in their own gardens. The occasional vehicle drove along the road out front and in the distance a mechanical sound, which I guess was someone mowing their lawn. I’m not sure why but all these sounds gave me the goosebumps as I looked down at my colourful childish onesie.

I began to think in terms of what it must be like to discover everything; sights, sounds, experiences, learning to walk, to talk, to recognise your parents, to feel loved. This was not what I expected when Auntie Joan said “Come and live with me” but I really felt like I was undergoing so much for the very first time. I was beginning to appreciate what auntie had said she could offer and as I spread myself in the sun, I wanted to start again.

A little while later auntie came out into the garden armed with the changing pad and all the accessories she needed. I was about to experience my first outdoors diaper change and felt a rush of excitement… things were moving on at such a pace.

I sat there in the lawned back garden wearing nothing but a fresh disposable and clear plastic pants. I felt like I just wanted to run around, scream, laugh and play, all of which I’m sure would have been OK but I detected that auntie wanted a more serious chat.

As always she could see that I was in my element but she had doubts.

“Dean, it’s very important to me that you are happy.”

I smiled in acknowledgement because I already was.

“But I don’t want you thinking you have to please me… because you don’t.”

I shivered a little bit confused she looked a bit serious.

“Don’t you like me dressed like…”

I stroked over the silky, glossy mound of my plastic pants.

“Of course sweetheart, I want you to be you more than anything else… but what I want has to be the same as what you want. I’d hate to take you down a path you weren’t happy about.”

“Well auntie, what do you want?”

Her serious face melted a little and a smile appeared.

“You are already giving me so much, even after such a short time together I feel much rejuvenated.”

“Aaannnddd?”

I queried in a childish drawn out way.

She took a deep breath.

“I won’t lie to you Dean,”

She was thinking, her eyes sort of drifted off into a slightly different realm as she spoke.

“But in my imagination you are a sweet little toddler taking their first independent steps.”

She interrupted herself.

“Not that I don’t like you just as you are.”

I nodded and it was as if I’d given her permission to carry on with her fantasy.

“But… I like you in a diaper. I love dressing you in your protection. I even enjoyed the fact that you wet yourself at the mall…”

She obviously hoped this wasn’t something too far.

“Not that I wanted to embarrass you, or you to be embarrassed, it was just the thought I needed to protect my sweet baby boy. That he… you… needed me to make things better.”

I gave her one of my coy little looks, which I’m sure was pathetic but I wanted her to know I appreciated all she did for me.

“I see an opportunity to let you have something you’ve told me you never had, a proper childhood. I watch your reaction when you are around even the most juvenile things and I see an urge to be involved. I noticed at Rainbow. I noticed it in the nursery…”

She indicated the house behind her.

“I noticed how happy you are to be in a diaper and dressed as a toddler, all of which I love you for because, I have to admit it, you look so damn cute… and … more importantly, you look contented.”

She smiled and I wondered over to her. She patted my bulging bottom as we hugged each other tightly.

She carried on but in a much dreamier voice.

“I want a boy who wants nothing more than to play and enjoy life, a boy free of any grown-up thoughts or worries, a boy who wants nothing more than to scream and charge around with other kids his age and build forts, live in his imagination and not worry about anything else. A young boy should not have any grown up worries and should only see his life through his own eyes, not blinkered by parents who try and guide him to their destination.”

I felt her words gathering in my chest. It was a strange sensation; several different emotions welled up inside, each competing with one another. One moment it was awful, then not too bad, then confusing, eventually any bad thoughts disappeared and I was elated when I whispered in her ear.

“I’ll be your little boy. I’ll be the best little boy ever.”

I saw her face beam with pride.

We cuddled in the garden, in the morning sun for quite a while as she simply stroked my padded bottom and kissed my head.

“OK… if you’re sure.”

to be continued…

Re: Auntie Joan Parts 1-2-3

Another great chapter can’t wait to see what happens next please continue

Re: Auntie Joan Parts 1-2-3

Please continue writing this, I’m enjoying it quiet a bit.

Re: Auntie Joan Parts 1-2-3

Loving your explorations into Dean’s head. It really helps me get ‘into’ his character, and I can’t wait for Ch. 4!

Re: Auntie Joan Parts 1 - 4

Part 4

Monday morning and I was nervous. It was to be my first day at Rainbow Rooms and, as Auntie had pointed out the day before; I would be treated just like all the other kids. I would dress the same, I would eat the same, I’d play the same and I would nap when told to. I was not going to get any special privileges except, at the end of the day, I’d be returning home with auntie.

We’d spent an awful lot of Sunday chatting and I discovered a great deal about my parents that I never knew. Like, for instance, they had met at university and both had been Math Majors, apparently, they fell for each other over a discussion on Calculous. This meant nothing to me accept auntie informed me that they married early and tried, as soon as Uni finished, having a family. Alas, they were thwarted in their efforts and ended up immersing themselves in their careers, which were both spiralling to greatness in their chosen fields.

As it turned out, dad became a government analyst, whilst mother was headhunted for her code-breaking research, so both ended up working in the same ‘state’ department in the capital. Both mom and dad stopped discussing their work with family and were often away on special assignments around the globe. Then, as an unexpected career-ender, I came on the scene. I was such a surprise that mom never even knew she was expecting until two months before I arrived.

To say I was a shock to my parents system was a bit of an understatement and although they appeared on the surface to be incredibly happy at this ‘wonderful’ event, I arrived at the wrong time in their lives. According to auntie both of them tried to be good parents but such were the demands on them and their specialised knowledge, they shoved me off for others to look after.

“Your parents were both incredibly clever,” she said this as if, in some way, she was proud of their achievements.

“Alas, I’m afraid their parenting skills had left them completely by the time you were almost out of diapers. However, they wanted what they thought was best for you, even if they couldn’t actually be there to make it happen, so… you were handed over to people they thought could bring you up better.”

I wanted to interrupt. I wanted desperately to ask why she hadn’t taken me in; I never gave it any thought that perhaps she had her own ambitions that didn’t include me.

“Education, learning, achieving… these were your father’s edicts on life in general.”

She looked a bit sorrowful at me and to be honest I was feeling more than a bit sorry for myself as she continued.

“What it was like to be a parent completely passed them by… and to be honest, from the little we could glean from their hectic lives, the government needed their abilities more and more. So, they sent you off to where they thought you’d be best educated and I presume, because of their increasingly important work, safe.”

I know auntie wasn’t trying to be unkind but I felt like I was a burden to my parents and found that upsetting. Knowing I was the problem and not my illustrious parents was not what a thirteen year-old boy can quite grasp and I was feeling very sick in my stomach at the thought. I felt hopeless, useless and I wept not knowing what or who the tears were for, my head found it hard to cope.

That Sunday was a complete and utter revelation. However, as I listened (and sobbed) at least I gained more info about my parents in those few hours than I had in the rest of my life.

She also showed me photographs of her and my Uncle Bill, who I didn’t remember at all, and the glass trophy they had won for their dancing.

Apparently they had met twenty years ago just as auntie was building The Rainbow Rooms Nursery. He had been an odd-job man and there to put the finishing touches to the building; painting, plastering, doing any of the little bits of carpentry that were left. She had been entranced by his easy going and affable nature, the fact that he looked great in his overalls also had a big say in her pursuing him.

They had struck up a conversation, found they both enjoyed dancing and in what appeared to have been a whirlwind romance, were married within six-months. He continued his odd-job work, she saw her nursery flourish, which he thought was amazing as he loved children as much as his wife, and they lived happily ever after. Well not quite.

It was strange as I looked in her album and saw all the happy photos of this rather handsome man I felt I’d missed out on so much again. What would it have been like to have a family, a family who loved me, a family who was there? My eyes filled up and I began to softly weep, which set auntie off and between us we hugged each other in comfort.

However, every time auntie patted my padded bottom I knew all was now well and I was secure; the soft rustling of my plastic pants a gentle reminder of that rather basic fact.

At around 6.30am auntie had come into the nursery to wake me up for my first real Rainbow day. My night had been filled with confusing dreams of my parents, except Auntie Joan and Uncle Bill were them, my real mom and dad were just passing people who appeared to have very little to do with me… apart from wave from a distance. I know at one point I got pretty anxious and shrieked out because I noted that in the morning I was hugging a teddy bear, which hadn’t been with me at the start of the night.

It was extraordinary, after I’d screamed, although I can’t remember if it was in fear for something to do with me or terror about someone else, a voice calmed me, saying everything was going to be alright, not to worry and go back to sleep. In my dream a teddy was placed in my outstretched arms and I loved the feel of his soft fur against my skin. The effect was instant. Everything was just as the disembodied voice had said, I was snuggly and relaxed and had my teddy for security.

“How is my best little boy this morning?”

She beamed as she moved around, dropped down the rails and pulled back my duvet.

I was grinning in happiness at being called her ‘best little boy’. All this sweet talk and cheeriness was having an impact on the way I woke up; excited and in high spirits.

“I see my little boy had a fright in the night,” she felt down my diaper, “let’s get you washed and changed as you have a big new day today.”

The fact that my thick night time fabric diaper was absolutely sodden was taken for granted - no big deal because the rest of the bed was bone dry. Although when at school I had wet the bed only occasionally, since the funeral it had become a nightly thing. I was grateful for the nappy, I didn’t like waking up to a soaked bed and it made me feel better knowing I hadn’t wet anything other than myself. She popped the studs on the onesie, pulled off my plastic protection and unpinned the diaper, helped me out of bed and patted my bottom towards the bathroom.

“Everything thoroughly washed and dried,” she said ruffling my short hair and gently slapping my bum once more in fun.

I was naked and toddled off to shower myself for what promised to be the start of an exhilarating day.

Showering appeared to be the only grown up act that I was allowed to do for myself because when I returned, everything was laid out and ready for the day ahead. Auntie inspected that I was dry and wiped any areas that I’d missed. She oiled and lotioned my entire body making sure that no rash or roughness had appeared on my delicate, newly exfoliated skin.

Once again my penis began to get engorged but auntie quickly powdered and applied a very thick soaker pad to my fresh clean disposable and taped it into place. This made access to my genitals almost impossible so I wouldn’t be seeking relief anytime soon. This time the diaper was covered in a pair of white rubber pants that gripped the top of my legs and waist tightly but added a slick, shiny look to my outfit. I had loved the nursery print pants I’d worn previously, and when we were alone I hoped to do so again, but I was glad that auntie had gone with a more neutral, if bulkier, look for my first day.

She’d found a loose fitting blue and green striped t-shirt from one of my unopened crates in the other bedroom and a pair of elasticated shorts, which hung loosely around my hips, from somewhere else. They didn’t hide my protection but at least they didn’t emphasise it either. I slipped into a pair of blue trainers to complete the first day at Rainbow Rooms Nursery ‘collection’.

I knew that Rainbow operated from 7.30am to 4.00pm and as it was now 7.35 realised that she was letting a few more of the usual kids get there first before I was introduced to them all. She had called Julie, her No. 2, the day before to explain that I’d be attending and that we’d be in about 8am. She also told her my age but said that owing to the tragedy that had recently befallen me, I was really not able to deal with any situation a boy my age would normally be expected to be able to cope with. This gave her the perfect excuse to introduce me to the other children as someone who was just like them, the staff already being pre-informed of my ‘problem’.

As I finished my breakfast cereal auntie was on the phone making arrangements for later that day.

“Hello Gordon.”

She listened for the reply.

“Yes it is… pause… Yes I’m back… pause… I have some jobs for you and Colin if you are available?”

She walked through to the den to finish her call and I could no longer hear what was being said.

However, I’d found a new thing to occupy myself with; my slippery bottom and loose fitting shorts made an ideal padded, rustling sound as I slid against the chair. It felt funny, and sounded funny, and I was really quite absorbed in the strange sensations it created as I wriggled more and more in my seat. I was enjoying the completely silly experience of being silly and making a noise just because I found it entertaining. I didn’t realise that auntie had finished her call and was smiling as I bounced around making strange noises thanks to my padded bottom, rubber pants and slippery chair.

As we walked the short distance from the house to the nursery (auntie had told me she liked that term better than kindergarten or crèche) I was nervous. Nervous of being out where people could see me dressed as I was, happy that I was dressed as I was, loving the warm morning air as it swirled around my bare legs and incredibly happy that I was holding auntie’s hand as she led me into the reception area of her business.

All the small faces looked up for a few seconds and then got back to whatever they were doing. Obviously, seeing a taller toddler around the place was nothing new but the staff was quick to welcome me and feel part of the session.

Auntie had advised me to take my time to get involved. She pointed out that as a thirteen year-old my language skills were way ahead of the toddlers so, to listen and get their speech patterns, listen to how they describe or ask for things and then do things at their level, otherwise she said laughing, “They’ll think you’re just another member of staff.”

As usual, auntie made sense and I watched for a while. The staff were engrossed with the children; there were four under 12 months, babies really, but the rest were from two and a half up to five years old.

It was fascinating watching what they did and how they went about it but Molly and William came and grabbed me and wanted to play - they were sort of the toddler welcoming committee.

I got down on all-fours and followed them to a play area which had huge cubes and shapes made out of colourful plastic backed foam. We set about creating a building of some description (and to Molly’s design) and had a great deal of fun watching the towers we built fall on top of us. There was a lot of laughter and squealing with delight involved.

My shorts rode up over the glossy white cushioned diaper so it could be clearly seen by anyone who might be interested I was just as padded as some of the other kids. Actually, there were about half who looked protected and others who’d made the grade to potty training, so wore normal underwear.

However, Molly and William and a couple more of their friends were definitely like me because at one point I had two of them sitting on my tummy, another balancing on my knees and Molly’s little padded bottom wriggling on my head.

I’m not sure how to describe the sensation of having a plastic clad, damp and diapered little bum rubbing itself, with not a care in the world, into your face but it was quite overwhelming. The other diapered kids were equally unrestrained as they bound around and bounced up and down on my own well-protected and padded groin.

Occasionally one of the staff might ask if one of the boy’s or girl’s particularly droopy nappy (that’s my English education coming out again - ‘nappy’?) might need changing and if so, they were whisked over to the diaper station and quickly attended to.

Well into the morning and I was having fun. We stopped and sat around in a circle having milk and cookies whilst one of the interns, a pretty girl of about seventeen, read us all a story. Some of the kids drank their milk from Sippy cups or a baby’s bottle; although some were more than keen to show off they were grown up and didn’t need such childish things. I was given a Sippy cup like Molly and William for my milk and I couldn’t have been happier. The cookies were sweet, crumbly and definitely yummy.

My nappy was damp but I didn’t know if it was from sweating with all the running about or, if in my excitement, I’d let loose a flow. However, when a hand pulled at my shorts and felt down the front, I was led off by one of the main staff to be changed. I wondered if auntie would come and sort me out but it was left to the hand-owner to strip me down, wipe me clean, spread some cream around, powder and eventually slip me into a fresh clean disposable then back into my white rubber pants.

She then smiled, patted my dry padded bottom and said I could go back to play with my friends.

It was amazing! I wasn’t treated any differently to the other diaper wearing pre-schoolers. I was worried that my ‘emotions’ would mean I’d have a difficult time containing my excitement and that my de-pubed genitals might react. However, they were ignored, pushed to one side and the job of making sure I was sanitary and tidy was the obvious priority… it was almost as if I didn’t have a penis at all.

When diapered, and the bulge in my shorts seemed to accentuate my groin, I loved the fact that it didn’t allow access. Despite the fact that all this protection had become a major influence on my moment to moment existence, the potty was definitely out of the question and all my instinctive actions were that I could and should use my nappy. The urges that normally lingered ‘down below’, were of little to no importance.

Screaming in delight as we ran around the garden (I on all fours), flitting from one shaded area to the next, all of us in bare feet enjoying the tickle of grass between our toes, we spoke in very childish terms. They asked how old I was but I said I didn’t know though hoped I was the same age as them as they were my new friends. They liked that answer because both William and Thomas cuddled me. These little padded kiddies, with no ulterior motive, hugged and patted me as if I was a new found pet and that was simply wonderful. I felt accepted, so when Molly, Elizabeth and Corey, with whom I’d also been playing did the same… I was in my element.

Most of the nappy wearers smelled slightly of pee and poo and I wondered how long before I did… or did I already?

After lunch, ‘quiet time’ was announced so we all toddled to a little mat and lay out. It was too hot to need a blanket but I thought no one would be able to fall asleep after such an exciting morning. I was wrong. Not only did the blinds at the windows make the room nice and dark, there was a lilting piece of atmospheric music gently playing in the background, which appeared to push all other thoughts from the mind and let you quickly settle down. To my complete surprise I woke up with all the others about 45 minutes later. My other surprise, I was completely soaked and joined the queue to be changed. This time it was one of the interns, a nice, softly spoken Irish girl called Gwen who had the honour of cleaning me up.

She, like the rest of the staff, was quick and efficient and I was soon back, lying on my tummy crayoning with a few other kids. Normally I’m reasonably OK with art projects but on this occasion I let Molly and another quietly spoken and nervous-looking girl called Beatrice help me choose each colour I should use. Beatrice was wearing a cute little tutu style dress with her thick padding in matching pink plastic heavily on show. She decided to sit on my padded bottom to watch what I did and make noises of approval; well I hoped that’s what they were. Eventually she got up and wondered round to my head and I could see her diaper was hanging even more heavily than before and she had more than a faint odour of poo. Two seconds later and Doreen, one of the main staff, saw the sagging diaper and whisked her off with a smile and jolly words about being a lovely princess who should meet the ‘diaper fairy’.

Four pm came around far too quickly. Parents started to arrive and collect their offspring and there was a lot of chatting and discussion about… well… what do parents talk about? For once, I wasn’t really all that interested. It could have been about the cost of living, some political furore or me, I just did not care. I’d spent the best part of the day in nothing but play and I felt brilliant. I was only saddened that it had come to an end so soon but that feeling of despair soon was turned into one of elation as I realised that I’d be doing it all over again the following day. Being a tot was certainly a lot of highs and lows in pretty quick succession but I loved it.

I’d played, made new friends, been changed, made more new friends, screamed, squealed, charged around, napped, ate and wet myself and I wanted more of it all. As a thirteen (almost fourteen) year-old this was absolutely the most fun I’d ever had and it topped my computer games as a way of entertainment, like a million to one.

Other than at the start of the morning I hadn’t seen much of auntie. I suppose she was busy organising, arranging and doing what principals do but I know she kept an eye on everything that was happening. When a little later, after all the other kids had been picked up and she offered me her hand saying, “Let’s go”, I felt like I’d just had the best day of my life and I couldn’t stop squeezing her hand and thanking her for giving me so much.

Once we arrived back at 46 Glendew Lane I could see a young man just packing up his truck, it had Gorcol Services written on the side and in script underneath, No job too small.

“Good afternoon Mrs Marsden, hope your day was fine?”

“Yes, thank you Gordon, hope all the little jobs weren’t too much for you and Colin?” She asked with a smile.

“No ma-am, we can come back tomorrow to give it all another coat of paint… if that’s OK with you… meanwhile, I think Colin is just finishing off upstairs. He’ll be down in a minute.”

“Fantastic, you boys certainly work hard… and fast, tomorrow will be fine but…” and she pushed me forward to meet this tall, blond-haired twenty something man, “this is Dean my nephew, who’ll be living here from now on and the reason for all the changes.”

He reached out his large firm hand.

“Pleased to meet you Dean, your aunt is a fine lady…”

Whilst holding on to my rather juvenile handshake he looked me up and down, obviously taking in my bulky diaper and childish clothes. For the first time that day I felt uneasy under his gaze and wanted to hide just what I was wearing.

“…seems like you’ll fit in just fine around here.”

The smile was one of shear friendliness and my initial reserves disappeared as an equally good-looking young man joined him in his greeting.

Gordon introduced him.

“Dean, this is my brother Colin.”

He also shook my hand and nodded an acknowledgement but I could see he was as reticent as I was on this first meeting.

They climbed into the cab of their truck and, waving to us both, said they would be back in the morning to finish things off.

“Come inside,” auntie said, "I’ll tell you who they are over some food … you must be famished… you’ve never stopped all day.

“Gordon and Colin Hudson were two boys your Uncle Bill took under his wing when they were kids.”

I munched down on the pie auntie had supplied, fresh from the oven, together with mashed potatoes and veg, for our meal. I don’t know how she knew it but had also made thick onion gravy, which I got a taste for back in the UK. I was half expecting to be eating baby food but this was wonderful and in between mouthfuls, she continued with whom these men were and what they did.

“They were just ten and eleven year-old, Gordon being the eldest, when they came to Bill’s attention as a couple of hooligans. Their parents had split up, dad was a drunk and they were left to fend for themselves.”

I continued tucking into my meal as she smiled at the memory.

“Somewhere in the course of their loutish behaviour they smashed down some doors at a property where Bill was working but he caught them.”

She could tell I was engrossed.

“He gave them the option of calling the police, after which they would no doubt be spending time in a kids detention home, where they might possibly be split up, or they could help him repair the damage they’d done. Colin, the youngest, started to cry at the very thought of not having his brother around so they reluctantly agreed to help.”

She looked at me as if revealing a huge secret.

“Bill discovered, that even at that young age, they had incredible carpentry skills. They fixed the damage and continued to help Bill on a few of his projects. Colin had problems when alone but as long as his brother was around he’d be fine. So, we ended up occasionally giving them refuge if their father was on one of his benders but all-in-all encouraged them to develop their talents.”

She went into slightly more detail but was smiling all the way through remembering the impact that Bill had on all their lives. How easy going, non-judgemental and positive he was. Gordon and Colin were his legacy.

“They have become one of the most reliable little firms in the area, and, are my number one guys to go to if I ever need anything doing.”

I was smiling because she was smiling but it did make me wish that I’d known Uncle Bill, he seemed a genuinely nice guy.

I wriggled in my damp diaper as she finished what she was saying and I swallowed the last piece of pie. I knew I was wet but seemed to just let it flow at the table without even thinking about it. I wasn’t sure if I should feel guilty or not but, well, it happened.

She looked over at me as I thanked her for the lovely meal and put her head to one side.

“Sweetie… are you messy… or just wet?”

It was as if I had no secrets or maybe the pleasure of a soaked diaper was just so apparent. However I nodded.

“Just, er, a little, erm, wet.”

So auntie held out her hand and led me upstairs.

My bedroom door was closed and had a sign that proclaimed WET PAINT. Meanwhile, the nursery door was open and I noticed there’d been a few changes in there as well.

“I’ve had the crib taken into my room.” Auntie confirmed. “Meanwhile, as you can see the bed you’ve been sleeping in has been moved over… I’m not sure it is all that comfortable for you as you are growing all the time…”

“No it’s perfect. I really like it.” I interrupted suddenly panicking in case I was going to be forced into the other room now.

“As you can see, I’ve had another bed installed, with your choice of covers and the fleece you wanted, which I hope will be slightly more comfortable for you.”

The room looked terrific. The dresser had been made higher, the shelves of all the diapers and stuff were also raised. Everything looked tidier and the two beds looked fit for a couple of sweet toddlers to have a great night’s sleep in. There was even a rubber mat with play areas and characters marked out all over it, any kid would enjoy. It looked ideal for where a toddler, or someone like me, could have a really good time. At the side of that was a huge box with the word TOYS stencilled across it and hanging off the rails above the diaper station were a selection of colourful plastic and rubber pants. I checked in the closet and a whole new bunch of onesies, sleep suits and toddler clothes were all hanging ready for… me.

“Ohh auntie.” I cried “It looks wonderful.”

I hugged her and she hugged me back.

“This is now your room, although, should you have a sleepover, or I have to babysit, you will be sharing this with any guest… understand?”

I nodded enthusiastically taking in the simple wonders that auntie had produced, well, Gordon and Colin I presumed had produced. The entire nursery just felt even more special and I could feel myself shaking in happiness that I had somewhere like this.

“What’s happening in the other room?” I innocently asked.

“Well, this is something we have to think about. You see, eventually you will have to go to school.”

I could feel the tears building desperately not wanting that to happen after my first day at Rainbow.

“Dean, I have to face facts. At some point the Education Department is going to start asking questions about why you’re not in school. Don’t worry, I shall keep them wondering for as long as I can but, it is inevitable that it will happen.”

My eyes misted over thinking about all I currently had, gone.

“Dean.”

She took me by the shoulders so I was facing her as she explained further.

“This other room is going to be for a boy of your real age; your clothes, computer, everything that a boy your age needs will be there as you grow. There will be times when you are at the next stage in your education that you won’t want to be a toddler, you’ll want to be a teenager, you’ll want other things and they’ll become important to you.”

I didn’t want responsibilities but I knew that, unfortunately, as always, auntie was probably correct.

I’d just gotten used to my diaper and all the other stuff that made me feel, well, protected and like a child again. I’d loved these feelings of unabashed childishness - the liberty to act like a little kid and love every minute of it. To discover such simple and basic pleasures of having no stress because others took charge and made the decisions. My entire body left to enjoy the fun of play and not have to compete or meet anybody else’s expectations.

As I sadly thought all this I felt the slow, warming at the front of my diaper.

to be continued

Re: Auntie Joan Parts 1 - 4

I’m really enjoying this story. Thanks for taking the time to write it.

Re: Auntie Joan Parts 1 - 5

Part 5

There is something about being in a thick diaper. You walk differently. Yes, a waddle of course but something else, the thicker padding causes an amble that makes you feel… ‘toddlersome’. With the extra fabric I sense, with each step, my legs being slightly forced apart, my hips swing more and I have to ‘shake’ every now and then to un-bunch the folds of material. It isn’t a big movement but one that makes me feel, well, makes me feel my diaper is an important part of me. Now I’m getting used to the warm, wet and satisfying feeling of peeing in it… I like it even more.

Auntie Joan was continuing her thoughts about the rooms.

“But, for as long as you want and desire your childhood, we have this room as well.”

Her hand swept over the improved nursery.

“You choose where you want to sleep and how…”

My warm diaper had transformed me to a three year-old and my mind wandered. I wiggled in the wet delight and looked over at the piles of diapers at the change station hoping I’d get to wear them all before I had to go back to being a ‘big boy’. The very thought of being anything but what I now was I found frightening. I loved being auntie’s ‘good little boy’, I felt at my most comfortable when I was well-padded and now I’d learned how to have fun, I was in no hurry to return to a school of my peers; Molly, William and the others back at Rainbow were now my peers.

I’d only just promised auntie I’d be her ‘little boy’ and now that I was, I would do anything to stay that way. I instinctively knew that she wouldn’t want me to change, that any change would be forced on her by government rules. I just hoped that she would delay the inevitable for as long as possible.

I wanted my diaper, I wanted my short shorts, I wanted colourful and juvenile clothes, cartoons, lullabies, mad bursts of energy followed by naps. I wanted to hold hands when we went out, I wanted to know that crying wasn’t seen as a sissy thing to do but what was expected from a child with limited vocabulary. I wanted to be loved as you would and should love a toddler. With Auntie Joan I got that and more… and I wasn’t going to give it up if I could help it.

I was sitting in the bubble-filled bath feeling a bit sad but auntie was kneeling by the side and encouraging me to play with a couple of toy boats she’d added. I half-heartedly sailed them around.

“Dean, sweetie, I want you to be a happy little boy for as long as possible.”

She squeezed the sponge over my head and the resulting warm cascade was very soothing.

“We have to face up to the fact that things change and I want it so… well… it isn’t a trauma when it happens. However, I don’t want my best little boy to worry. It’s going to be a while before any changes happen and…”

She stroked my wet hair and looked me in the eye.

“There’s nothing to stop you being a little boy when you come home from big boy school now is there?”

She looked at me to see if there was a happy response in my eyes but at that moment I just sighed and shrugged and let auntie continue bathing me.

Once finished and dried I was again made ready for bed. The oil she spread over my body, and the obvious pleasure she got from making sure it was thoroughly rubbed in, made me smile. She was doing her best and I was coming round to accepting that we had started on a ‘relationship’ that neither of us really knew where or when it would end. I didn’t like these adult thoughts and I hoped they would be my last, but thankfully auntie was going to be there for whatever happened and more importantly, for whatever I needed.

I bucked up as a shower of baby powder covered my lower half and I could see she had already pre-folded my night time diaper. It had the thick pad in place and she deftly slipped it under my bum, lifted up my legs and added more powder to my bottom and genitals before taking the huge pins and securing me in. This time she snapped me into a thick pair of bright yellow vinyl pants and pulled an equally bright yellow onesie over my head and snapped that into place.

“Where is he?”

She hid her face behind her hands before quickly reappearing.

“There he is.”

She was playing the simplest and silliest baby game going and I was giggling. It was a joke because I was laid there in the brightest yellow possible, a beacon of visibility, and no one could have lost me looking like that.

She did the same routine a couple more times before I was laughing so much I thought I might pee myself again. Auntie took my hand and helped me to my feet. There it was again, that wonderful, bulky feeling that made me feel so… special.

We waddled down stairs together and she sat me on the couch to watch more TV. This time she’d set a DVD going that was really just a parade of childish cartoons, which I loved, because I remembered that a couple of the kids back at Rainbow were wearing some of these characters on their clothes and I didn’t know who they were.

Auntie went off to the kitchen to get some snacks and I settled on my tummy in front of the screen to enjoy what was happening. My bulky front making me wriggle to get comfortable, I could only imagine what I looked like from behind but, I knew auntie (and I) would both approve.

She was away about ten minutes but when she returned gone were the cookies and Sippy cup I’d expected, instead was warm milk in a baby’s bottle. Auntie settled on the sofa and then patted the space by her side inviting me to join. I crawled into the crook and she immediately hugged me then turned so that I was on my back but facing her. She hadn’t said anything, just smiled and waited for me to decide if this was something I wanted. I wasn’t sure but I knew it was something else auntie had decided I needed so happily complied.

The rubber teat slipped between my lips with ease. Once she was sure I was comfy she tipped the bottle up and let me feed, sucking it down in a rhythm I didn’t know I had (perhaps it’s a natural bodily response to a nipple that never really leaves you). The drink was warm banana and vanilla flavoured milk and wonderful to taste as it slipped gratifyingly down my throat.

As she held me close I could feel the warmth of her body radiating the love I so craved. I snuggled deeper into that embrace and as I sucked I felt both small and soothed. There was nothing about this process that I didn’t find enjoyable, especially as she patted and rubbed my padding in time to the rhythm of my nursing.

The cartoon on the television was still going but auntie had reduced the sound and hummed a little tune as I finished the milk. I was so relaxed I was almost asleep but auntie still held and gently rocked me as I dozed. Her fingers were softly making patterns on my tummy and occasionally she’d pat out a tempo on my vinyl protection.

I’d dozed so much and come round again that I had no idea of the time as she led me up to my room. This time she drew back the cover on the new bed and invited me to climb in. I really wanted to get into the other, I liked the feeling of security and childishness that the rails offered but, I couldn’t deny it, the new bed, with my choice of covers (colourful cartoon animals) was equally welcoming. I was reluctant of this change at first but climbed in anyway and was immediately engulfed in the new, clean and fresh linen. My bare legs felt the novelty of new sheets and a shiver of cool pleasure ran through my body.

She pulled the covers up to my chin and kissed me goodnight. I wondered where my teddy was but auntie just laid the pale blue fleecy blanket I’d chosen in the shop next to my head. Its soft fluffiness tickled my cheek so pulled it in and hugged the fuzzy material close. I can’t explain how wonderful and calming it felt but my mind was suddenly empty of all those earlier awful and worrying thoughts. Now, as I slipped into dreamland, I had never been more snug, cosy or secure.

My tummy was full, my brain was empty and I was in the most wonderful place when auntie turned off the light and wished me “sweet dreams”. I snuggled up to my security blanket and for some reason my thumb found its way between my lips. I suppose the baby’s bottle earlier had got me thinking of sucking on something but I wasn’t even thinking of a reason as I happily suckled my own digit.

I woke up late in the night and could barely make out anything in the room. There was hardly any light coming in through the window and auntie had not fitted a nightlight, which I thought I might mention at some point. There were only vague shadows being cast and I could make out the bulky contours of the closet. Strangely, there was one part of the room that did catch what little light there was and I could see the outline of my plastic pants hung on the rail above the changing table. Oddly enough I must have found this reassuring because I soon closed my eyes and drifted back to sleep. However, this time my dream was very different.

Neither auntie or uncle, or mom or dad, made an appearance; instead I was in the woods where I was playing with a green beaver (like the one on my covers). We’d been chasing each other, along with a red deer and purple bird, all over the place; in and out of the dappled leafy glades, through the bracken, over grassy hills and back to the ultra-blue meandering river. However, one of the little streams that flowed into the river was blocked by logs. The beaver said he hadn’t done it but was admiring the natural dam that had clogged its course.

Unfortunately, further downstream, the water flow had stopped and large orange fish were distressingly flapping around in the tiny puddles that were left. We knew we had to do something to save them so we all pulled and pushed at the woody obstruction. The beaver was gnawing as quickly as he could, the bird was fluttering around hoping to dislodge any twigs with the beat of its wings, whilst I was straining as I took hold of a large log that seemed stuck and to be causing most of the trouble. I was sweating from the effort. I pulled and pushed, gripped and tugged, twisted and turned and eventually, with a huge, straining heave, I could feel the entire structure begin to give way. Soon the water began to trickle through the gap we’d made, which was rapidly followed by the entire dam disintegrating, releasing the water, the woody obstruction being forced apart and swiftly turning the empty stream into a raging torrent.

I suddenly woke up pleased with the success of the mission. The morning sun was already beating at the blinds trying to get in and I was lying in… in… Oh God… what had I done?

The feeling of accomplishment was fleeting as I realised just what had happened.

I was in shock.

I could smell, as well as feel, the mess that was occupying my night time protection and I didn’t know what to do. I was stunned that my body should betray me in such a way but I had no idea how to deal with it. I didn’t dare move in case I made matters worse. I didn’t dare look in case I’d made a mess all over my new pristine sheets, I was completely horror struck that I’d done something that I couldn’t remember ever having done before. I’m sure as a child it happened but it wasn’t something I recalled but at that moment, I was as helpless as a new-born baby.

As I lay there wondering if I should get up and try and waddle to the bathroom, auntie bowled in with her usual morning enthusiasm.

“Morning sweet…”

She obviously detected something was wrong as she pulled back the blinds and opened the window. Even a wonderful sunny Kansas morning couldn’t help the situation.

She returned to my bedside and looked down as I squirmed in my shame.

“Has my little Poppet had a bit of an accident?”

There was no anger in her voice just a question that obviously needed no response from me.

She pulled back the covers to reveal my yellow onesie and my burgeoning diaper.

I felt guilty, ashamed and scared of my own body. How could it do this?

Auntie was of course immediately reassuring.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll soon have my little chick,” I think she was jokingly referring to my extreme yellow outfit, “all clean and spruced up.”

She helped me from my bed. I tentatively moved, desperate not to dislodge anything that was trapped in my diaper, and was relieved to see my plastic protection hadn’t leaked.

Auntie guided me over to the new, reinforced and larger padded plastic changing area and had me lay out. I kept saying how sorry I was but she just smiled and got on with the clean-up. She cautiously released the onesie and the vinyl pants snaps, which revealed the fabric diaper looking like it had been through several muddy puddles. It was discoloured and I closed my eyes trying not to think of the horror I supposed was waiting for auntie once she unpinned the soggy thing.

“OK Poppet everything is alright. Don’t worry, auntie will see to it.”

Her reassurance was constant but the guilt hung heavily, like my diaper.

“It’s natural sweetheart. Don’t be upset, even good boys have accidents so don’t let it worry you. I’ll soon have you looking as cute as always.”

The stench was overpowering to me but auntie just rolled up the offending article and put it straight into the waiting pail. Thankfully, the change station was well-equipped for such emergencies and a huge carton of wet wipes suddenly became the centre of my world as she slowly swabbed the mess from my nether region. The damp, menthol-smelling wipes were cool to my skin so came as a bit of a shock as she applied the first one.

She could see I was on the verge of tears so her encouragement was most welcome. I’d always assumed that I wouldn’t ever fill my diaper in such a way, that I would be able to control that particular side of my bodily function, but now?

The fact it was of no concern to auntie and that, judging by her words and tone, it was just something little boys do, made me less anxious. However, I didn’t really want to watch so closed my eyes and let her get on with what she had to do.

She was of course incredibly thorough, bringing in a bowl of warm water and cloth to re-mop the entire area. With all the products and supplies she needed now at a more accessible height; I was daubed in more protecting cream and covered in powder. She then grabbed a couple of disposables and taped me in before finding a large pair of opaque plastic pants to drag over it all. She went to the closet and pulled out a pink and blue onesie that had an aeroplane on the front, which snapped neatly between my legs holding the bulky structure tightly together. Then she shuffled up a pair of very loose, elasticated denim style shorts to finish. It wasn’t as smart as yesterday’s outfit but looked more playful and I suppose, juvenile but I still felt happy wearing it.

Despite the horror that had been in my diaper, it had only taken auntie a few minutes to clean me up, get me dressed and ready for my day at Rainbow. I inspected my new outfit in the mirror and thought how much more I looked the part and hoped I’d fit in better now I appeared more infantile.

By 7.30am I was already crawling around with Simon and Kate, two four year-olds, who wanted me to join them, because of the plane on my chest, to make an airport. There were a number of different sized toy planes, some you just pushed but others that made a noise and worked with a clockwork engine. We had a long runway that we swept the planes up and down, taking off and landing and asking permission from the Lego control tower when we could take our turn. It was great fun but, as more kids arrived, our noisy, busy runway got shorter and shorter so in the end we abandoned that and went to play with some toy cars in the corner where a garage was set.

The day followed the same pattern as the day before but was completely different. I made other friends and we played different games together. We coloured in, we built, we ran around, we listened to stories, we got checked, we got changed and we napped. We laughed, we cried (well I didn’t but some did) we hugged and we pretended, we pretended we were grown up, which was… fun.

At one point I was growling like a lion and chasing around after a group of other kids pretending to be very savage and attempting to eat them for my dinner. The kids were screaming in delight as I was on all-fours chasing and roaring my complete fiercest when almost five year-old Deborah came up to me, spanked me hard on my padded bottom and said very loudly.

“Naughty kitty, you’re scaring Julie.”

I was so surprised by this intervention that I sat back on my haunches and felt thoroughly chastised by this girl.

Julie was indeed looking a bit scared but all the others were laughing and liked me chasing them around but Deborah was having none of it.

“Stop scaring people.”

She wagged her finger and though I wasn’t going to cry, she seemed so grown up in her attitude that I did feel ashamed and thought if I didn’t stop she was going to spank me again as punishment.

That authority came from the fact that she didn’t wear a diaper. She was confident and toilet trained, and we ‘little babies,’ still wearing our thick protection, felt she must know best.

In fact she was very proud of the fact she was toilet trained. Like all the kids at Rainbow, because of the heat, we wore as little as possible. Her pretty little flowery dress was short, so every time she spun or bent over or just played in general, everyone could see the lack of a diaper and her silky matching little panties. She wasn’t a bully, in fact she seemed to see it as her job to look out for the younger, easily scared or upset members of the group and make it right for them. She was helpful and considerate and the staff liked her because of her empathy with other kids.

As I reeled back under her wagging finger I could feel my body try and retreat into itself and without any help from me, I wet myself.

The other kids I’d been chasing obviously thought the same of Deborah as I did because they immediately settled down under her stern words and I’m sure I wasn’t the only one to let go a fearful pee.

My diaper wasn’t checked again so I had a heavy load to carry with me all the way home.

To be continued…

Re: Auntie Joan Parts 1 - 5

Love how the story is going totally got me hooked ;D >:(

Re: Auntie Joan Parts 1 - 5

:angel: I love it 2? 8)