Summercroft

 

“Artie, honey, it’s time to get up.” I could hear, but not see my mother. She waited until I had my eyes entirely open before she left the room. I glanced at my digital clock. It read 05:30. I moaned, battling with my legs to move. As I managed to swing my legs out, I could feel the sodden mass that was gathered between them. It was still warm from my nightly wetting. Mom left the room, presumably to get dressed. She always gave me time to wake up, before changing me. After about five minutes of trying to wake up, I finally managed to get enough feeling through my body to stand up. I walked into the en-suite bathroom, and flicked the light on. I squinted in the brightness. I went over to the sink, and lay down on the floor next to it. Within about 30 seconds, Mom came in.

 

“How are you this morning?” she asked cheerfully. It amazed me how she managed to be so energetic in the morning.

 

“I’m OK” I moaned back. “It’s too early though”

 

“Well, we’ve got to get to town in time to look round places, and we need to move soon. We can’t afford to just live in a hotel all the time. I’m sorry I had to wake you so early though. How’s the diaper this morning.”

 

“Just wet,” I said, not wanting to elaborate.

 

She pulled the plastic pants down. We were both met with the smell of stale pee, just emphasising how long it was since I peed my diaper. Within minutes, she had expertly diapered me, including a doubler, ready for our day out.

 

Mom patted the back of my plastic pants.

 

“Get dressed and we can have breakfast. The sooner we get there, the sooner we find a house.”

 

I nodded. Although I did want to make sure that we had a nice house, the whole house-hunting thing was getting boring. I grabbed a pair of jogging bottoms, and a t-shirt, and followed Mom to the restaurant.

 

After breakfast, we went out to the car, and started to drive into town. As we had already looked at all the houses close to the centre of town, we went straight out to the other side. We met up with the guy from the estate agents outside a nice-looking house.

 

It was quite large, and had two floors. Having lived in a bungalow for the entirety of my life, I hadn’t really come across the concept of stairs in our house. It had a large front garden, with a spacious driveway and a large garage. Out the back it had a nice sized garden with a high fence going all the way round. It had some patio, with a garden set sitting on it. The inside was even better.

 

Downstairs, it had a large lounge, a dining room and a small, yet well-equipped kitchen, and a bathroom with a shower.

 

Upstairs, it had a large master bedroom, a smaller guest bedroom, with an en suite bathroom, and another smallish bedroom. It also had a room that had been used as a study.

 

I have no doubt that as soon as Mom and I saw this house, we knew it was perfect for us. The previous owners had moved to a nursing home, so it was pretty empty, but had a few bits of furniture. It had a double sofa in the lounge, but no TV. The kitchen had a relatively small table, but the dining room had nothing. Upstairs, the two en-suite bedrooms had a double bed each, and the smaller bedroom had a single bed. The study had a telephone line, complete with Broadband. Mom asked the estate agent some questions, mainly regarding the price, and then she turned to me.

 

“What do you think, Arty? Do you like it?”

 

I nodded.

 

“Well, I think I can probably find the money for it, so I think that we’ll match the offering price.” She said, turning to the estate agent. He replied that he had been informed that the first person to match the price the owners had set down would be sold the house. We had 15 days to pay the money.

 

15 days later, we were all moved in.

 

The day after we moved in, the neighbours came round to introduce themselves. They were a complete family, with both parents, and a son. His name was Corey, and he was 12. Just like me. We instantly hit off. We seemed to be so alike. We both liked the same things, the same TV shows, and the same music. We seemed to click in that way that only best friends can.

 

There was, of course, one problem. How to explain the diapers? I had decided from the start that I didn’t want to hide it from him. I knew from past experience that telling lies could ruin a relationship. I eventually decided to just come out and tell him.

 

“Corry.” I started, quite nervous. “I should really tell you something.”

 

“What?” he asked.

 

“Well, I have this sort of … problem … and … well …”

 

“Are you gonna be part of Summercroft?” he asked straight out.

 

I just nodded, my face glowing bright red.

 

“Hey,” he said, “that’s cool. I don’t hold that sort of thing against people.”

 

“How did you know that it was what I was going to say?” I asked.

 

“Well,” he replied, “most people with a ‘problem’ round here are part of Summercroft.”

 

I smiled weakly.

 

“Hey,” he said again “it’s cool. I don’t mind. I ain’t gonna treat you any differently just cos you wear something that I don’t.”

 

And there it was – my best friend had already accepted me.

 

Let me just tell you a little about me and Mom. I have a disability. You see, I have never been completely dry. Ever since I was born, I have been kept in diapers. I have a rare disease (don’t ask me for the name of it, as I can never remember!), which affects the bladder. It comes and goes, so sometimes I can stay mostly dry. But then, you only have to wait for about two weeks, and it’ll get bad again, and I’ll be wetting before I know it. Most of the time, I just don’t bother trying to get to a bathroom. I’m Arthur, by the way, but most people call me Arty. The other effect of the disease is an overactive brain. The problem being, I can’t ever get it to stop. This has, of course, affected my progress in school. The only problem being that, with my brain working full time, it takes it out of me. I need a lot more sleep than most kids my age.

 

Summercroft, in case your wondering, is a fund that was set up for people like me. It was set up by a millionaire, who had adopted a kid that wore diapers. He decided that he wanted to help out more kids like his son, so he consulted the doctors. Now he gives about 2 million a year to it.

 

What happened to dad you ask? He ran. Don’t know why. As soon as I was born, he upped and went. Haven’t seen him since. And that’s 12 years.

 

So for now, it’s just me and Mom. But then, I don’t really miss having a dad. I mean, I know that I could be out there playing football with him, or going on fishing trips with him, but to be honest, I don’t really like that sort of thing. I’ve always been one that likes the indoors. I’m not the sporty type, but as I said before, my brain works well. When we left where we were, I was top of all my classes. Hell, in maths, I was even doing stuff for people three years ahead of me.

 

My main interests lie in how things work. I absolutely love looking at how something works. Mom always used to have a policy that when something that was mechanical broke down, she would save the old one so that I could take it apart and see how it works. I remember one fond memory of how our vacuum cleaner broke down. I even managed to fix it.

 

Over the next week, we started to receive money from Summercroft. Mom was still working, but fewer hours than she used to. Whereas I would hardly see her before, she was there when I woke up, and there when I went to bed. Summercroft also ran optional groups for its members. There were all sorts of categories. People who liked sport, people who liked computers (a luxury I had never had), people who liked almost anything you can think of. And then, the one that I was interested in, people who liked mechanical stuff. I can remember the first ‘session’ I went to.

 

“Arty, honey, are you going to the session today?” Mom asked, after waking me up.

 

I thought about it.

 

“Yes, if that’s ok by you” I replied. I really did want to meet other people like me.

 

“That’s fine, sweetie, now come into the bathroom, and I’ll change you sodden diaper.”

 

She led me into the bathroom, and I lay on the cold floor. Mom expertly removed my soaked diaper.

 

“Do you need to poop?” she asked me. I nodded, and sat on the toilet. After releasing my wastes, she told me to lie down, and expertly diapered my butt again. She then led me down to the kitchen for breakfast. I ate my usual breakfast of cereals, and then went upstairs to get dressed. We drove to the hall where the meeting was taking place.

 

I was feeling quite nervous. The only person I had ever revealed my problem to was Corey, so I didn’t know how I was going to feel about a whole room-full of people knowing. Mom glanced over at me, and read my expression.

 

“They all have the same problem, Arty. They’re not gonna bully you for something that they also have a problem with.”

 

She had a point. Not many people who were attending this session could say much about wearing diapers, as they all wore them anyway.

 

We finally pulled into the car park of the hall, and got out. We walked in, and were greeted by a person who introduced himself a Dr James.

 

“Welcome to the session” he said, “what is your name?”

 

“Arty” I replied.

 

“Ah yes, Arty Brooke. You’re new to Summercroft aren’t you?”

 

I nodded shyly.

 

“And this must be your Mom.”

 

“Karen” Mom introduced herself.

 

“Well,” Dr James said “You’re both welcome to talk to people. If you just make your way around the crowd, you’re sure to meet someone.”

 

We thanked him, and started off round the crowd of people that were here. I have to say, the session was not at all like I expected it to be. I thought it would be something like sitting in a circle telling people about you, but it was actually much better than that. Everybody was free to wander round the crowd, meeting new people all the time. They only grouped us by interests so that we had something to talk about.

 

As we made our way round the crowd, we met all sorts of people. Just as we were leaving a family, somebody caught my eye. He looked about the same age as me, and was alone with his Mom. I steered Mom over towards him. As always, we introduced ourselves, and he introduced himself as Jimmy. The moms got talking, as did we. Again, it seemed to just click. He seemed like the right sort of person to have as a best friend. The Moms seemed to like each other as well. We spent the rest of the morning talking to them, learning about each other. By the end, I had invited Jimmy over for a sleepover, after warning him that we didn’t have much in the way of entertainment. Jimmy suggested that Summercroft had projectors that you could borrow, and that we could watch a film on a wall, if we had one big enough. I asked Mom and she agreed that it was ok. Jimmy and I agreed to meet at the video rental place at 5:00, so that we could choose a couple of films.

 

At one point in our conversation, I smelt something that made my nose wrinkle. It became apparent to me that Jimmy had dumped into his diapers, but little did I know that it was deliberate timing. He went off for a change, and came back about five minutes later with a piece of paper. He deliberately didn’t let my Mom see it, and he slipped it into my pocket, accompanied by a wink. I decided to play along, and left it there, not showing any sign of anything.

 

We parted ways and went home.

 

“So, what did you think of Jimmy’s family?” Mom asked me.

 

“Well, they were nice” I replied, still baffled about the piece of paper in my pocket.

 

I got a chance to read the paper when Mom was doing some housework. I went into my room, and unwrapped it, being careful not to make too much noise. It said, in rushed handwriting:

 

Arty:

 

 I didn’t want to tell you in front of everyone, but I have a side to me that not many people see. I can’t believe I’m telling you this. I am what we call a ‘teenbaby’. Its mainly because of my diapers, but I like to be treated like a toddler again. You know, pacifiers, bottles, rompers, sleepers, the whole lot. The only reason I tell you is because I think you would like it too. I have always had this strange ability to tell people who are suited to teenbaby ways even when I hardly know them. So, I was only wanting to offer to bring over some of my stuff so that you could try it. If you want to, then ring me, if not then don’t and I wont mention it again.

 

Jimmy

 

Well, although I had never thought about it, the thought of being treated as a toddler now appealed to me. I don’t know why, and those of you who have never had those feelings will probably never understand them, but they just are. I memorized the telephone number at the bottom of the page, and went into Mom’s room. I picked up the phone, and hurriedly dialed the number. Jimmy answered it.

 

“OK” was all I said, and then I hung back up. I rushed out of Mom’s room, and went downstairs to have something to eat. I was looking forward to this sleepover.

 

After meeting in the video store, Jimmy and I cycled back up to my house. We had picked out a movie, which both of us had seen before. Seeing a good movie was not the first thing that was in our minds.

 

“Mom, we’re home,” I yelled as we came in the front door.

 

I scampered up the stairs, and joined Mom in front of the laptop that we had bought a couple of days before.

 

“Hey Arty, Hi Jimmy.” She greeted us as we walked in.

 

“Hello Mrs Brooke” Jimmy replied, politely.

 

“Oh please,” Mom said, slightly embarrassed, “call me Karen.”

 

“Hello Karen” Jimmy corrected himself.

 

“Now, boys,” Mom said, closing the web browser that she had open, “Do you want to watch the film upstairs or downstairs?” we both agreed on downstairs.

 

“Are you gonna watch it with us?” I asked.

 

“Only if you don’t mind.” She replied, looking at which one we had got.

 

She smiled approvingly, and went downstairs.

 

We went into my room.

 

“Did you bring the stuff?” I asked, barely whispering.

 

“Of course,” Jimmy replied, “but I didn’t bring as much as I might have liked cos Mom interrupted my packing.”

 

“Well,” I said, now speaking properly, “what do you want to do?”

 

“Whatever there is to do, I suppose” Jimmy replied.

 

We decided on surfing the internet. I was quite a novice at that point, so Jimmy showed me around, and explained a whole load of things. He asked me if I wanted an email address, and I decided that I did. He invited me to this service called Gmail, which was set up by the big company Google, who owned a search engine. I was absolutely amazed at the stuff that you could get off the internet. We got a bit bored, and Jimmy suggested that we go to sites to do with his ‘other side’. I was a bit hesitant.

 

“What if Mom comes up and sees?” I asked. “Surely you don’t want her to know about it.”

 

“Good point. Any idea what she is doing?” Jimmy asked. I decided that as I needed a change anyway, I would find out by asking her to change me. I left Jimmy to reply to a few of the emails that he had got, and went off to find Mom. After a quick change I was sure that she was cooking, and we would not be disturbed in a while. Jimmy showed me all sorts of sites, all of which had something to do with teenbabies. I was absolutely amazed at the amount of people that there were in these communities. I didn’t feel like signing up to any of the forums or anything yet, so I just looked around.

 

Unfortunately, our time was cut short by dinner being ready.

 

After dinner, we decided to watch the film. Mom had since set up the projector, and we were all set to go.

 

Unfortunately, I didn’t last long. Before the film was even half an hour in, I was curled up on the sofa next to Mom, sound asleep.

 

“You’ll have to excuse Arty” Mom said quietly to Jimmy, “his disability affects the activity of his brain. He needs a lot of sleep.”

 

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Jimmy replied, equally quietly, “I have the same problem, and would probably be asleep if it wasn’t for the fact that I had a nap this afternoon.”

 

“That’s a good idea, having a nap. I must ask Arty about it.”

 

And then they went back to watching the film, leaving me to dream of all sorts.

 

“Arty, honey, wake up” I squinted in the light. Mom was shaking my shoulder. I glanced around the room. Jimmy was there, trying hard not to laugh. I suddenly snapped awake, realising that I had missed the film.

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Mom reassured me, “Jimmy has the same problem as you. He takes naps in the afternoons. I think, given the amount that you have been falling asleep on me, that you should try it.”

 

Mom announced that she was going to bed, and that we should be changed now if we wanted her to change us. We both needed it, so after a quick change, Jimmy and I went upstairs to my room.

 

After we were sure that she had gone for the night, Jimmy went straight for his bag. He dug around in it until he found what he was looking for. He pulled out a small canvas bag with a drawstring. He carried it over to the bed.

 

I could feel the tension growing as he got closer. I could also see in his eyes that he was nervous about revealing this side of himself to anyone. I later found out that he had never admitted this to anyone before. He hadn’t really admitted it to his parents, they had just found out.

 

He opened the bag, revealing two stuffed animals. One was a baby elephant, and one was a small tiger. There was nothing else.

 

“Sorry about it only being what it is. As I said, I couldn’t pack much cos Mom was about” he apologised. “I usually sleep with the tiger.”

 

I nodded, and picked up the elephant. He eagerly started to hug the cuddly tiger.

 

As I held the elephant in my hand, my mind was working overtime. I had a rush of two sets of feelings. One set was telling me that I wanted to be a TB, and one set was holding back, as though I didn’t want to be a TB. Both sets seemed to be conflicting, and while they were, a third set told me to try it out. So I did. I curled up, and started hugging the elephant. We lay back on my bed, both quite tired. We pulled the duvet over us, and went to sleep.

 

I woke to Jimmy shaking my shoulder. He was standing over me, and had obviously not been up very long. His blond hair was flattened on his head, obviously the product of a nights sleep. He had picked up the stuffed animals that we had thrown out overnight, and they were safely back in the bottom of his bag.

 

The morning went as normal, we ate breakfast, and Jimmy cycled back home at about 11:00.

 

We were meeting family in the evening, going out for dinner in some new restaurant the other side of town. It was about an hours drive away.

 

All during the day, though, I couldn’t concentrate on anything. My mind kept wandering back to the night before. Although I had tried to hide it from Jimmy, I had felt that it was just ‘right’ when I was hugging the elephant. It felt as though it allowed me to really be me. It was almost a part of me that had never come out. And now that I had tried it once, I just couldn’t stop thinking about it. I tried to busy myself learning about the workings of a computer. It seemed, due to its logicalness and maths basis, the computer had appealed to me. I was looking around the browser, learning how it works, when I came across the history. There, naturally, I found records of all of the TB sites that we had visited yesterday. I glanced down the list. There seemed to be a lot. I fought with the idea of re-visiting them. In the end, I got up from the computer, not wanting to admit to myself that actually I wanted to be a TB. From what I had seen the day before, they were not looked upon as ‘normal’. There were many false accusations against both TBs and ABs, many of a paedophilic nature. I quickly went into my room, closed the door, and lay on my bed, breathing heavily. I had learnt this technique when I was bullied at my last school. I tried to clear my mind, but the thoughts of pacifiers and bottles filled my head. I ended up drifting into a very uneasy sleep.

 

“Arty, honey, its almost time to go.” I opened my eyes, and was met by the sight of Mom. She had closed the curtains, probably some time earlier, and it seemed really dark in my room. “I was going to suggest a nap, but it seems you beat me to it” she said, retreating out the door. “Come downstairs when you’re ready for a change” she said, as she closed the door behind her. I had had a very odd dream. It had involved me as a toddler. It seemed as if I was only three again. The dream frightened me, and made me think. I had to get a grip on myself. I had let this whole TB thing get to my head. Again I tried to clear my mind.

 

We set off in the car at about 6:30. I had had a bath, and had been changed into a disposable diaper. Sitting on the back seat was a rucksack that was my diaper bag. It contained all the things that I needed for two diaper changes.

 

We arrived at the restaurant a little after 7:40, met by four of my cousins, along with two aunts and two uncles. They had already got the table, and quickly ordered a lemonade for me and a glass of wine for Mom.

 

We talked about the usual things during that meal. How everyone was, what we were all up to. I think by the end of it, all of the kids were really bored. At about 11:00 it was decided that we would hit the road to go home. Mom didn’t really want to be much later than midnight to bed.

 

“Come on then, Arty, time to go.” She said to me. I tried to motion towards the bathroom covertly, but she didn’t seem to get the idea. I went up to her.

 

“I need a change,” I whispered in her ear. She nodded.

 

“In the car.” She said to me, not too loudly. Fortunately, nobody seemed to notice. I mean, they knew about my ‘problem’, but it would be too embarrassing to ask for a change in front of everyone. We said goodbye to everyone, and I was forced to give my aunts a hug.

 

We went out to the car park, and Mom opened the back door. She put the seats down, and then opened the boot. Years of experience had taught her that that was the easiest way to make a flat(ish) changing table. She lay the old rug that was kept in the boot for that purpose out on the floor. I lay down.

 

“It was nice to see them again,” she said, only wanting to make conversation.

 

“Yeah,” I agreed, “It’s a pity that we don’t see that much of them.”

 

“Well, the distance is just too big. Especially after we’ve moved.”

 

I felt the old diaper move away from me, and then Mom’s expert hands spreading powder over me.

 

“I’m surprised you didn’t need a change in the middle of the meal.” She said, trying to keep the conversation going. “But then, I suppose you haven’t drunk much today.”

 

By this time she was pulling the fresh disposable over me, and promptly taped it up. I got up, not bothering with anything to cover my diapers, as we would only be in the car. By this time, it was just starting to rain, so we quickly got into the car. Mom started the engine, and we set off home.

 

As we pulled out of the car park, it started to rain more heavily. It was quite dark, and I was mesmerised by the sight of the rain falling through our headlamps. It seemed to take hold of my brain, and put me in a state of inner calm. For the first time that day, I managed to clear my mind.

 

Having finally stopped thinking about things, I decided that it would be a good chance to mull over this whole TB thing. I started from the most obvious thing:

 

Did I like it last night?

 

Yes, I decided.

 

Ok, so did I want other people to know?

 

This was a harder one. I’ve always been quite shy, and I’m not brilliant at showing my true feelings towards things. In the end I decided that I would skip that question.

 

Did I want it to become part of my life? Well, I was split. Part of me said, yeah, it would be fun. Part of me said, no, don’t be stupid – you’re twelve. Part of me said, if you think that’s what you want, go for it. Well, not much answer to that question.

 

I carried on sorting things out, until I noticed that we were almost home. It seemed almost subconscious, as I don’t remember thinking “Ah, we’re almost home”, but I know that I went onto the last question:

 

How was I going to hide this from Mom?

 

This got me worried. I wasn't sure that I could, but by this time, I had decided that it was definitely part of me, and had kinda realized that it wasn't going to go away. I didn’t know if I could keep it from Mom for that long. But then, I wanted her to know. I didn’t really want to keep it from her. But how to admit it to her? Surely, I couldn’t just come out and say it. I might die of embarrassment. But then, how should I admit it?

 

Slap. It wasn't hard, but just enough to remove me from my dazed state.

 

“Arty, are you coming in?” Mom asked, softly.

 

I mumbled incoherently, nodding. I got up out of the car, and made a break for the house. By now it was raining quite heavily. Mom came in a closed the door behind her. I started up the stairs, and was quite surprised when Mom stopped me.

 

“Arty,” she called, “can we talk for a bit”.

 

Now, this really surprised me, as she had said quite specifically that she wanted to be in bed as soon after midnight as she could. And yet, here she was saying that we should talk, at 12:15. However, I obliged, knowing that it would be wrong to disobey her. I followed her into the sitting room, and we sat down on the sofa.

 

“Arty, I have always tried to know when there was something wrong in your life. I have always, and always will, try to make your life the best it can be, so that you can enjoy it.”

 

By this time, I knew what was coming.

 

“But you have to understand that in order to do that most efficiently, it has to be a two-way process. You have to let me know when something isn’t right, so that I can do something about it.

 

“Now, I don’t know how, probably mothers instinct, but I know that there is something that you have been thinking about. I can’t tell what it is, but I know that it’s been troubling you. So, I thought I would give you this chance to tell me what it is that is wrong.”

 

Now I definitely knew.

 

“Its nothing” I tried, not wanting to admit it to her. Hell, I’d had a hard enough time admitting it to myself, never mind my mother.

 

Mom smiled. “Its not nothing.” She replied, quite simply.

 

I still showed no signs of telling her.

 

“Listen. I know about some of what happened last night.” She said. I didn’t believe her.

 

“What about last night” I asked. She had tried this before. I can’t remember what it was she wanted me to admit to, but she said she knew about it, and I just admitted it. She then said that, actually, she didn’t know what it was before, but by that point, I had admitted it.

 

“Well,” she started. She seemed to be hesitating. Ha – she didn’t know.

 

“How does two young boys, lying in bed, hugging baby animals sound to you?” she finished. My stomach dropped a mile. She knew? I felt my cheeks fill up. I started to cry. A silent tear rolled down my cheek.

 

Mom hugged me close.

 

“There, there.” She comforted. “I know it’s not easy in this sort of situation, but what was it?”

 

I could tell that she didn’t know the reason for the stuffed animals. It may even have seemed normal.

 

I thought for a few moments, wondering how to tell her.

 

“Well, you see…” I started. “Yesterday, when we first met Jimmy, he slipped me a bit of paper. And then, when I finally got a chance to read it, it suggested that he bring some stuff over, stuff to do with hoe he likes to be treated at home. He suggested that I may like it, and I agreed for him to bring some stuff over.”

 

I paused, letting another few tears roll down my cheeks.

 

“Well, last night, I tried it. It was only with the stuffed animals, but it seemed so right. I felt so good. I tried not to let you know, but obviously, you saw anyway. And then, for the entirety of today, I have been toying with the idea of following his example, and being treated in the same way.”

 

“How is he treated at home?” Mom asked, although she already had a very good idea.

 

“Like … like …” I stuttered. I couldn’t believe that I was telling her this “like … a … ba…by” I finally completed. I buried my head in her arms. She just held me, comforting me until I had calmed down a bit.

 

“There, now,” she said, “don’t you feel better having told me?”

 

I nodded. She was right, of course. I did feel a lot better. By the time that I had fully calmed down, it was about 1:00 in the morning. She just carried me upstairs (she could still carry me because I was quite light, and she was very strong), and lay me on my bed. She changed my soaked disposable for a nice, fresh nighttime diaper, and tucked me in. I was asleep before my head touched the pillow.

 

As I was not used to being awake so late, I was not up early in the morning. (Not that I was usually up early, just I was especially late that morning). What I didn’t know was what Mom had been up to.

 

At about 11:00, she came and woke me. As usual, my diaper was dripping, but she presented me with an opportunity that I had never imagined her to.

 

“Arty,” she started, lying on my bed next to me, “I know that it was hard for you to tell me what you did last night. I just want to say now that I’m really proud of you for actually telling me. I’m not sure that if I had been in your position, I would have been able to tell you.

 

“I have also decided that your life is very important. I know that being treated unfairly at this stage in your life can have huge effects later on. That’s why I’m going to ask you what I am.

 

“Firstly, however, I want to tell you a little about my childhood. When I was just seven years old, there was a kid at school that had to wear diapers full time. Everyone who was anyone bullied him about it, and I can’t even imagine what it must have been like. I know that he had a medical condition, and later learned that he was extremely lonely. One time when we were in English, he wet his diapers, and they started to leak. I was sitting quite near the door at the time, and as soon as it became clear that he had leaked, the entire classroom erupted in laughter. The teacher quickly excused him to go to the nurse, and tried to get the class under control. As he was leaving the room, I could see that he was starting to cry, but just as he left, he glanced at me.

 

“I have never, and will never, forget the look on his face. It seemed to hold an array of emotions. He was annoyed at having to wear the diapers, he was angry at himself that he had not gone for a change before, he was lonely in being the only one with the problem, and not having anyone as a friend, but most of all, he was scared. He knew all of the things that would happen to him in school the next day as a result of his accident.

 

“From that moment on, I resolved not to laugh at him any more. Over time, we became friends. I got an insight to what his life was really like. It seemed so terrible. He would often go to tears, recalling the bullying and beatings that he got at school. He slowly began to talk to me. He began to open up, and to actually start to like me. They often say that you can’t know what its like to be bullied until you have been. But I can tell you now, that I knew exactly what it was like. I wasn't the most popular girl in my year, so I couldn’t do anything to change it, but I could be his friend.

 

“In those days it was unusual for girls to hang around with boys, much the same as it is today. I got teased something awful for being his friend, but after hearing what he had been through, I decided that no amount of teasing would make me betray him.” Mom stopped to wipe a tear from her cheek.

 

“Over time, we got to be very good friends. He started to trust me with his deepest darkest secrets. There was one, however, that he was still keeping from me.

 

“One Saturday, he invited me over to his house. I had never been to his house before, despite the fact he had been to mine numerous times. He told me he wanted to tell me something, but that it would be better to show me. Naturally, I was curious. I checked with my parents, and accepted his invitation.

 

“When I arrived, his mother let me in. She seemed very nice, and was busy baking some cookies. She directed me up the stairs to his bedroom.

 

“As I walked up the stairs, the smell of baby powder mixed with faint smells of pee and poop got stronger. I followed his mother’s instructions, and knocked on his door. He invited me in, and I was aghast. The entire room looked fit for a three-year-old. It had no bed, only a crib. It had an oversized changing table, a whole bookshelf of kid’s books, a shelf-full of cuddly toys, and, in the corner, a smallish playpen. He was lying in his crib, wearing a traditional onsie. I could see his plastic pants bulging beneath them.

 

“As you may expect, I was staggered. He asked me to sit down, and let him explain. And explain he did:

 

“He had a medical problem. It turns out that it wasn't much different to yours. He had always been in diapers, ever since the word go. He had, as I knew, been badly bullied and singled out at school, so he started to regress at home. He had started to build up a fascination with baby stuff. He pointed out a couple of pacifiers sitting on the floor. As he told me more, I was more and more determined to help him.” Mom stopped again, this time letting out a few sobs.

 

I hugged her, intrigued by this story.

 

“Sorry” she apologized, “I stood by him during the entirety of his school career. Once we had finished school, we each went our separate ways. He went off to start working in shops, and I haven’t seen him since. We occasionally exchange letters, but I haven’t heard from him in about 6 months. But then, that’s neither here nor there, the point of this trip down memory lane, was to show you that I know what its like. As soon as I knew you were born with the disability that you’ve got, I thought of Kevin.

 

“So you see, Arty, I have got a bit of first hand experience with this, and I even expected it slightly over the years.

 

“So now for the big question: do you want this?”

 

I thought. I wasn't thinking about the question, I was thinking about how similar this kid Kevin and I were. Or, how similar we seemed to be. I mean, I didn’t have a full-blown nursery, but I had the feelings.

 

In answer to her question, I nodded.

 

She smiled and hugged me. I hugged her back.

 

It was then that I realised the pressure in my bowels. It seemed strange to me at the time, but for a bit, I thought about asking if I could do it in my diapers.

 

“Well, Arty honey, if you want to then you can. I’ll just clean you up and diaper you as usual,” Mom said, reading my mind.

 

I looked up at her.

 

“Do you really mean that?” I asked.

 

“If that’s what makes you comfortable, then by all means.”

 

I continued to hug her, and tried to push my poop into my diapers. Unfortunately, it just would not come. I tried to push it out, but my potty training (of pooping, anyway!) held it back. Mom sensed my dilemma.

 

“Lie back” she commanded. I obeyed.

 

“Right, now bend your knees, and imagine that you are sitting on the toilet.” I complied. Still it wouldn’t come.

 

“Still no luck?” she asked. I shook my head.

 

With that, she started to rub my stomach just above my plastic pants. This helped. Within about 5 minutes, I could be heard noisily filling my diapers. When I was done, I leaned forward and hugged Mom again. She just hugged back, not bothered by the stench that was now emitting from my diapers.

 

After cleaning and diapering me, Mom led me downstairs. I ate my own breakfast. Mom had decided that I needed to be introduced to this slowly, and she had promised herself not to go overboard.

 

After breakfast, she left the room, and came back with an elephant just like the one that Jimmy had brought over. I smiled, grabbing it and giving it a tight hug.

 

“For my little boy.” Mom said, pleased at my reaction. Just like last night, she picked me up with ease, and took me to the study upstairs. She booted up the computer, and logged on. She brought up the browser and clicked some buttons. It brought up a panel on the left hand side. She clicked one of the links. As soon as the page loaded, I recognized it.

 

“Arty, when I found out about it, I looked in the history on the browser. I don’t know if you knew, but the browser keeps a record of all of the pages that you have visited. Among them, I was not surprised to find a few of these.” She cycled around some of them, clicking link after link. I hadn’t had any idea that it was keeping all of these records; otherwise I would have deleted them. She sensed my embarrassment.

 

“Oh, don’t worry about it, honey. Id rather you visited these sites than some of the horrible pornographical sites that are around nowadays.” She reassured me.

 

She stopped on a specific one.

 

“This one, I noticed, has links to suppliers of some teenbaby stuff.” She pointed out the link. I just nodded, still embarrassed about being found out so easily. She clicked the link.

 

“This morning, I had a look around. I drew up a list of things that I thought you might like.” She opened up a text editor. It read:

 

Furniture:

 

Crib

Changing table

Play pen

High chair

 

Accessories:

 

Pacifiers

Bottles

 

Clothes:

 

Bibs

Onsies

Shortalls

Overalls

Rompers

 

She seemed to have made a pretty extensive list.

 

“You’ll have to choose the ones that you like the idea of. I was only going on what I could find.” She explained.

 

I leaned forwards, editing the list.

 

Now it read:

 

Furniture:

 

Crib

Changing table

High chair

 

Accessories:

 

Pacifiers (different colours)

Bottles

Cuddly toys

Books

 

Clothes:

 

Bibs

Onsies

Shortalls

Overalls

Rompers

 

She agreed, switching back to the web browser again. She ordered all of the furniture, and some clothes from a supplier that ships, and then printed the list.

 

“I suggest that we go shopping this afternoon, and get you some clothes that you can wear now, and some of the other things.” She suggested. I agreed.

 

She stuck her fingers inside the leg band of my plastic pants, and under all of my diapers. She had never done this before, so I was somewhat shocked.

 

“Oh, I used to do this all the time to you when you were young. You have to understand that you’re not the only person around here who may enjoy you being young again. I have sorely missed the days that you were a young kid. I suppose I’m happy to have my little Arty back.” She grinned at me.

 

Deciding that I was wet, she carried me into my room for a change. I have to say, that I was getting to like all of this carrying. I guess it just helped me to think of myself as a young kid again.

 

Let me just take a couple of seconds to elaborate.

 

I had a normal childhood. It was only ever me and Mom, but loads of kids grow up with only one parent nowadays. I, personally, don’t think that it’s good for parents to split when they have children. (Although I am firmly against people who stay together and fight really badly, saying that they are staying together for the kids.) I would say that you should only have kids when you are in a stable relationship. But then, I’ve never had kids, so who am I to judge?

 

We were always a bit low on the cash front. Mom worked really hard, but it was hard with being the only parent. She worked as a receptionist at an insurance company, but was not paid all that much. She didn’t dare move, as there didn’t seem many jobs that would suit her.

 

She worked long and hard, and as I grew up, I became what people in our area refer to as a ‘latch key kid’. The daily routine was always the same. Mom would go out before I got up in the morning. I would unpin my night-time diapers, and have a shower. I would then put on some pull-up diapers. These were easier than trying to pin on some cloth ones, and my school refused to allow me to wear cloth ones anyway. I would then grab some breakfast, usually a bowl of cereal. I would head out for school.

 

School was never really much fun. I mean, I enjoyed learning (a trait that you see less and less as the years go by), but my life was made quite miserable by the school bullies.

 

During the day, I would go out for a change whenever I required it. The teachers all felt sorry for me (they knew I was bullied, but couldn’t do anything about it. The bullies would always slip through the net. They also liked me because I worked hard, and would actually obey them), so I had a policy that I could just walk out, and they would presume that I was going for a change.

 

Despite all of this dropping in and out of classes, I still managed to keep up with all the rest of my class, and the entire system seemed to work well.

 

After school, I would get the bus home, and let myself in. I would change my diaper if it needed it (however, I preferred to get changed by the nurse just before school got let out), and sit and watch cartoons. I would get in about 3:45, but Mom wouldn’t get home before 6:30. She would make tea, and then we would do something together. Sometimes it would be watching a TV program; sometimes it would be just chatting. She would then change me into my night-time diapers, and I would go to bed. The next morning, it would all happen again.

 

After a quick change, Mom led me to the car. She had put a disposable on me, as we were going to a place that, potentially, nobody knew about my diapers. The disposables were much easier to conceal than the cloth ones.

 

Mom strapped me in, and then went round to her side of the car. She climbed in, strapped herself in, and started the engine. We pulled out of our driveway and out towards town. Within about ten minutes, we had got to what seemed like a random house. We stopped outside, and parked on the opposite side of the road from the house that we were visiting.

 

We knocked on the door, which was answered by a woman. She looked nice, and obviously was expecting us.

 

“You must be Arty,” she said, looking at me.

 

I just nodded.

 

“Please, come in” she said, opening the door wider. We both stepped in, and she closed the door behind us.

 

She then led us into a smallish room, with a sewing machine in the corner. There were bits of material all over the place, and some finished pieces hanging from one of those transportable rails you get in theatres.

 

I did a classic double-take when I saw exactly what was hanging up. Even though I was expecting it, I couldn’t help but look at the sleepers, rompers and other babyish clothes that were hanging there.

 

The nice lady (whose name, it turned out, was Mrs Chapman) grabbed a tape-measure from the table next to the sewing machine, and approached me.

 

“I’ll just take your measurements,” she said, unravelling the tape measure.

 

She measured my legs, my arms, my torso, and finally my diapered butt.

 

“He usually wears more diapers than that, only he’s in a disposable for this trip” Mom said, as she got to measuring that area of me.

 

“Well, you seem to be exactly the same size as my son.” The old lady said. “I think he’s upstairs, I’ll just call him” she left the room, and called for her son, James. Minutes later, I heard a set of feet thumping down the stairs, and voices outside. A few seconds later, the feet went back upstairs, and Mrs Chapman came back into the room.

 

“James will just grab some samples, so you can see what they look like” she explained. It took him about three minutes to gather all the clothes, and then I heard him come down the stairs again. He appeared at the door.

 

He seemed about the same age as me, had straight blonde hair, and blue eyes. I could see his diaper bulging under what looked like a traditional onsie. He had freckles, and wore a large grin. He seemed the friendly sort of person.

 

“You must be Arty” he said, extending his hand. I shook it, slightly confused as to how he knew who I was.

 

Reading my expression, he continued, “Oh, Jimmy told me about you” he said. I was surprised.

 

“Ah” I replied.

 

He then shook Mom’s hand as well, and pulled off his shorts. He was left standing only in his onsie.

 

“As you can see, this is a traditional onsie” Mrs Chapman said. “The fact that it is all one piece is, of course, very handy when wearing diapers, as it reduces the sag when they are wet”

 

Mom and I nodded at this.

 

James then pulled on a footed sleeper.

 

“This, is a sleeper. You can either have feet, or not.” Mrs Chapman continued to commentate. “Feet are good for in the winter, when your feet might get cold. However, in the summer, you may not want them because of the heat”

 

She continued to commentate as James modelled all sorts of clothes. I could tell from the wear on some of the clothes that James didn’t only model these for his mother. There was also a distinct dinginess to the bib that he modelled, that could only have come from having food spilt down it constantly.

 

Mom looked at me, checking again that I wanted to go through with this, and I nodded. She got out the list of things that I had made earlier and consulted with Mrs Chapman how many of each we wanted. James took this opportunity to speak to me.

 

“Sorry about startling you with your name,” he apologized, “but when I heard who Mom said it was, I couldn’t help but recognise it. Jimmy told me about the sleepover you guys had a couple of days ago. In case you hadn’t realised, I’m a TB too.”

 

“You don’t say,” I replied, sarcastically. He grinned, and we continued to talk about various things. It turned out that he had no medical reason to wear diapers, but enjoyed the way they felt. This, I knew from the websites, was not at all uncommon. We were deep in conversation when Mom announced that it was time to leave.

 

I thanked James, and Mrs Chapman for the demonstrations, and we went back to the car.

 

“She’s going to make some for you as quickly as she can. She says that she’s almost done with a sleeper that she was making for James, which she has agreed you can have instead. We can pick that up on our way back home, after we’ve been into town.” Mom said as we pulled away towards the town.

 

Once in town, Mom drove us to a store that nobody would have been able to find had they not been looking for it. It was down an old alley, which obviously wasn't used that much. It was obvious from the window that this was no ordinary furniture store. In the window were some oversized cribs, and a couple of big changing tables.

 

We walked in, and were greeted by a nice-looking clerk. He asked us if we needed any help, and Mom declined.

 

We were looking round the crib accessories when suddenly, we heard someone behind us.

 

“Karen?” he asked. It made both of us jump, and turn round.

 

“Kevin?” Mom replied, equally baffled. I was left not knowing what on earth was going on.

 

Suddenly, it clicked in my head. He was called Kevin. Didn’t Mom say that kid who was a TB went into something in stores? Surely it couldn’t be?

 

“Oh my, fancy meeting you here” Kevin said. “I didn’t know you were living round here”

 

“We’ve just moved” Mom replied. “Arty,” she said, turning to me, “I want you to meet Kevin. He’s the one I told you the story about this morning”

 

I extended my hand in greeting. Kevin took it and shook it heartily.

 

“You were telling him my story?” Kevin asked, obviously surprised that Mom had a use for it.

 

“Arty’s just found his TB side.” Mom explained, “And I needed some way of telling him that it was ok. As soon as I found out, I thought of you”

 

“Well, I’m just glad the story lives on” Kevin said, smiling. “Do you want any help picking out stuff?” he asked. Even though we knew what we were doing, Mom said yes, and they started talking. By the end of our time in the store, Mom and Kevin had caught up on everything that had happened since their last letter. They also exchanged telephone numbers.

 

We left that store with some of the accessories that I would need. In the bag we had: a mobile for my crib; a couple of bottles (one for me, and two for anybody who happened to be around at the time); pacifiers in blue, red and yellow; and a changing mat (with babyish prints) all in my size.

 

We then went off to get some of the other items. We bought some books, and some furry animals, and then dropped in at Mrs Chapman’s on the way home. She gave me a box, which contained a footed sleeper in blue. She said that she would be able to make some overalls, shortalls, rompers and onesies within the next few days, and that she would ring us when they were ready. Mom paid Mrs Chapman for the sleeper, and we went home.

 

That night was my first TB night in my life. Or at least the first one that Mom was involved in. it started pretty much from the moment that we walked in the door. Sorry, let me correct that, the moment she walked through the door, carrying me. She plonked me down on the sofa, saying “Now, my little Arty, I don’t want you to hurt yourself, so you just sit on the sofa like a good little boy.”

 

She rooted through the bag, looking for something, and emerged with the red paci. She placed it in my mouth, and left with the other bags. I sat there, on the sofa, simply thinking about how nice it was to be sitting there, sucking contentedly on a pacifier, and just thinking about how nice it was.

 

Mom came back in a couple of minutes, carrying a bottle with what looked like apple juice in it. She came over, and sat on the other end of the sofa, and guided me so that I was lying with my head in her lap. She then took out my paci, and replaced it with the nipple of the bottle that she had filled. I took the nipple, and started to suck. I was right, it was apple juice. It tasted, well, kinda different from a bottle rather than a glass. Maybe it was just because the bottle was new.

 

By this time, it was getting quite late, and it had already got dark outside. After finishing my bottle, Mom picked me up, and carried me upstairs into my room. By this time, I had managed to absolutely soak my diaper. So much, in fact, that it had started to leak around the legs. Not enough for anyone but Mom to notice, but it gives you an idea of how wet it was!

 

Feel free to email me telling me what you think of the story. My address is:

 

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