The fire crackling in the fireplace added an additional warmth to my sister's pleasant living room where we were sitting this evening, catching up on gossip and family matters. I didn't often have the chance to see her, what with our different schedules, so it was nice to come over and visit when I could. She lived alone with her stepson, Brian, who had just turned thirteen last month. "Thanks for your patience while I got Brian ready for bed," she said as she sat back in her easy chair. "Oh, it's no problem," I replied, although I couldn't imagine what it was she needed to get him ready for. My sister's attention was momentarily diverted as we heard softly padded footsteps approaching from behind me. Turning to look, I got a bit of a shock when I took in the sight before me.
Here was Brian, sheepishly waddling into the living room, wearing a fleece yellow one-piece footed sleeper with a nursery print design. The feet had plush bunnies with floppy ears on them and his seat had a what looked like a big fluffy bunny tail attached. Honestly, I thought it looked more like something a toddler would wear but I didn't say anything. And then, in the quiet of the room, as he drew closer, I could distinctively make out the crinkle-swish-crinkle sound that every mother knows instinctively from raising babies. Looking down, I could see the unmistakable bell shape around his hips, obviously produced by a very thick diaper.
Seeing the focus of my attention, Brian blushed red and looked anxiously to his stepmother for comfort. "Come here, baby," she smiled at him as she held her arms open wide invitingly. Brian waddled over and hugged her, and I watched as her hand slipped down to pat the very thick seat of his fuzzy fleece jammies, comforting the abashed youth.
Personally, I had always thought Brian was something of a sissy, and from what I could tell, my sister only encouraged his behavior. While my two similarly aged sons were in the hockey league, Brian didn't participate in any sports at all at school and he still played with "action" dolls at home. But even knowing his mother's somewhat eccentric behavior, I was surprised by his childish appearance and thought his bedwear to be rather odd.
"Brian started wetting the bed last month," she explained patiently, as she saw me looking at his big, bulging bottom, "so I started putting him in diapers and plastic panties before bedtime." I took a swallow of my wine as I looked him up and down. He looked to all appearances to be an overgrown toddler. "Has it reduced the...uh...wetting?" I asked uncertainly.
"No... if anything, he's wetting even more, but at least his bedding is dry in the morning," she replied with a smile, apparently pleased, as she patted his bottom maternally, "But truth be told, I really don't mind our diapering sessions... I feel like we're bonding again closer than ever and I think Brian likes the intimacy he experiences." I grunted in disapproval.
"In my house, if one of my boys started wetting the bed, he'd get a good, hard spanking and that would be the end of it." My sister frowned and gave me a critical look. "I would never spank Brian," she stated emphatically, squeezing his big bottom again and hugging him tighter. The effeminate youth shifted his stance in his footed jammies and appeared embarrassed by all this talk of his recent bedwetting habit.
My sister encircled his waist with her arm but unfortunately, it had the unintended effect of putting more strain on the fuzzy soft fabric stretching around his hips. His sleeper had a drop seat with snaps and one of the corners suddenly popped open, exposing the colorful, babyish plastic panties covering Brian's thick diapers. "Oh!" he squealed as he realized his plastic panties could now be clearly seen. His hands shot down defensively to try and cover up his shameful underwear.
"It's okay, baby," my sister said reassuringly as she turned him around physically and re-snapped the flap. Brian's face was blushing a deep red as he tried to look away from me. Clearly, he was uncomfortable being seen under these extremely humiliating circumstances. "Honey--did you brush your teeth?" my sister asked him. "Uh-huh," he said in almost a whisper, as he shifted his feet anxiously.
"Okay, go get your bottle then," she said, dismissing him with a soft swat on his generously padded, bulging bottom. Brian looked at her pleadingly. "B-but I'm not thirsty tonight," he whined desperately. "Run along, baby," she replied, summarily dismissing his concerns, "You know you need your milk." Wincing with embarrassment, Brian quickly waddled out of the room. Did she just say 'bottle'?, I asked myself, not sure I heard correctly.
My sister acted as if nothing were out of the ordinary as she smiled back at me. I looked at her oddly, wondering if she really intended to bottle feed her 13 year old stepson. Brian returned shortly, his crinkly plastic panties audibly announcing his presence before I actually saw him enter the room. Sure enough, I saw him holding a baby bottle of milk, playful nursery characters decorating the container. My eyebrow arched in surprise as I saw her take Brian onto her lap and shift his position so both his legs were on the same side. Taking the bottle from him, she pushed it past his protesting lips, holding it in place against his mouth as he squirmed and waved his hands in angst. "Settle down now, honey," she cooed to him. I watched him as he struggled helplessly on her lap, fidgeting and pouting as she forced him to nurse like a baby. "Umm, don't you think it's unwise to give him liquids before bed if he's wetting during the night?" I asked.
She shrugged as she looked at her prissy stepson who was blushing hotly while he nursed from the bottle being held for him. "I think it's helps him to relax," she replied simply, but I remained unconvinced. Brian's cheeks buzzed with shame as his eyes darted around the room, looking everywhere but at me. "Uh-huh," I said, taking another drink from my glass, "Sis... don't you think you're molly-coddling him?" I hoped my disapproval didn't sound too judgmental.
"Oh no!" she replied emphatically, "I just think boys like Brian need a little more attention than others. I'm sure after a period of wearing diapers... say six months or a year, the bedwetting will disappear altogether." I shook my head but said nothing.
Just then, her stepson started getting fussy with her... it was obvious he had had his fill and didn't want to finish the last half of the baby bottle. But she kept it pushed against his mouth, forcing him to drink the tepid liquid whether he wanted it or not. He squealed and whimpered, trying to resist her but it was obvious in a battle of wills, she was going to come out the victor. It seemed equally obvious to me that given the fact he was going to bed at the childishly early hour of 8:00, and with a large serving of milk, it was a virtual certainty he would be wetting his diapers tonight and every night. Finally, the oversized bottle ran dry and my sister let him off her lap. He tried unsuccessfully to mask a burp from the quantity of milk he'd drank before averting his gaze to the floor.
"Go give your aunt a hug goodnight," she commanded him. Awkwardly, he waddled over and gave me a half-hearted hug of affection. "Say goodnight, Brian," she prodded him. "Goodnight, aunt Stacey," he said, his cheeks still bright red. To be sure, whatever respect I had held for the boy was gone now.
"Goodnight, Brian," I replied as I shook my head. My sister took his hand and led him down the hallway to his room. With nothing else to do, I looked idly back at them, until she opened the door to his bedroom. That's when my mouth dropped in surprise as I saw the bed she was actually tucking him into... it was a baby's crib!