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David's holiday humiliation - part 3 (illustrated)
When I woke up it took me a moment to remember what had happened. I was confused by not having my pyjama top on…and it didn’t feel like I had my pyjama bottoms on either…and yet I could feel something between my legs…

And then I remembered. I reached down and felt the plastic of my baby knickers, and the bulk of my nappy, and then the horrible realisation dawned on me that I’d wet my nappy. I could feel the warm sogginess pressing against my little boy bits and my bottom.
I got up and put on a t-shirt, just as Mummy came in.

“Ah, there you are!” she beamed. “And how’s my big boy this morning? All ready for our holiday?”

I was acutely embarrassed. I didn’t want to tell her I’d wet my nappy, even though I knew she’d find out. She must have seen my hesitation.

“Oh dear,” she sympathised. “Has my big boy wet his nappy? Well never mind, darling. Mummy said when she put you to bed early that it’d be okay if you wet your nappy.

 "It's okay to wet your nappy..."

Now let’s get those baby knickers off you, then you can run along to the bathroom and Mummy will come and take your nappy off you and you can brush your teeth and have a shower. Then we can get you ready for our trip. Won’t that be nice?!”

I did as I was told. I wasn’t expecting our trip to be at all ‘nice’, as I knew I was to be put back into another nappy and those hateful pink plastic knickers for the journey. When I got back to my bedroom Mummy was sat on my bed waiting for me.

 "Mummy was waiting for me..."

I didn’t resist. I meekly accepted my fate of having a nappy and baby knickers on for our journey to the Lake District. Once Mummy had sprinkled some baby powder over my bottom and little boy bits she pulled my nappy up tightly between my legs and taped it in place. Then she pulled my baby knickers up over my nappy.

After that came my t-shirt, and then a surprise.

“I know you're shorts were a bit tight over your nappy, darling,” she said, “so Mummy bought you these to wear for our journey. They're a bit looser across your bottom, so they should be a bit more comfortable sat in the car with your nappy on.”

“These” were a pair of pale blue (Becky insisted on calling them ‘baby blue’) dungaree shorts.

 "Baby blue dungarees..."

They were indeed looser across my bottom, even with my nappy on, but Mummy insisted on doing the straps up “nice and tight” so that my nappy would be held snug against my bottom. She assured me I’d appreciate it when I wet my nappy, as it would stop it sagging. I hung my head in abject humiliation.

Mummy put the remainder of the pack of nappies she’d bought me, plus my two spare pairs of baby knickers, the talcum powder and a bottle of baby lotion, and a pack of baby wipes into an old canvas bag and made me take it downstairs.

After breakfast we loaded the car – and I had to carry the bag with my baby things out and load it up as if it were ‘my’ bag for our holiday – and set off.
We hadn’t been gone even an hour before I felt a twinge in my bladder. I tried to ignore it, but unlike Mummy and Becky I hadn’t been able to go to the toilet before we left as I had my nappy and baby knickers and dungarees on. There was no way I was going to last.

A bit further on Mummy said we’d be stopping at the services for some lunch in another hour or so. That was at least some relief. Firstly I was already quite hungry, but secondly, if I did wet my nappy now I knew Mummy could change it for me and I wouldn’t have to sit in a wet nappy for the next four hours.
I relaxed my bladder, relinquished my pride, and flooded my nappy.

It was a very strange and embarrassing sensation, being ten years old and yet wetting my nappy like a toddler. I tried desperately to act normally, but I was sure my face was burning red. 

By the time we got to the services my nappy was all clammy around my bottom and between my legs, and although I knew it would be humiliating, I was looking forward to Mummy changing me. But when we parked up Mummy said that I had to wait in the car while she and Becky went to the toilet.

I sat in my soggy nappy feeling very sorry for myself. All I could think about was Mummy and Becky using a proper toilet, and me not being allowed to. It seemed so unfair. And thinking about it made me want to wee even more. I found myself letting go and wetting my nappy again.

When they finally came back to the car I was very pleased to be able to get out and stretch my legs. I was also pleased that Mummy had decided to put me into my new dungaree shorts, and do them up so tightly. I could feel the weight of my wet nappy in my plastic knickers, and the pull on my shoulder straps told me that it was my dungarees that were stopping my nappy from sagging embarrassingly.

I was desperately worried that people would be able to tell from the bulge in my dungarees that I had a nappy on. It would have been even worse if my nappy had sagged.

Mummy took my hand and lead me towards the restaurant building. I started to say that I wanted my wet nappy changed, and that she hadn’t brought my bag of clean nappies, but I couldn’t quite get the words out. In the way that Mummies do, though, she knew what I meant and said “I’ll change your nappy for you, David, after we’ve had our lunch. Your sister and I are starving!”

We went into the restaurant and chose some food. As we were queuing to pay the lady behind us tapped Mummy on the shoulder and said “Excuse me, but is your son wearing a nappy?” I went bright red. Even Mummy looked somewhat taken aback. 

“Um, um, yes he is.” Mummy stammered. “He’s, um, not good in the car on long journeys, so, well, you know…”

“Oh yes,” said the lady. “You can never tell with boys, can you? My daughter was out of nappies before she was two, but Alfie, my son, still needs them and he’s four. I didn’t mean to be rude, interrupting you, but I just wanted to let you know it looks like your son’s nappy may be leaking. There are a couple of little damp patches, look…” 

She turned me slightly and pointed to my bottom. Mummy looked and was embarrassed that she hadn’t noticed herself. But nowhere near as embarrassed as I was having a stranger point out that my wet nappy was leaking. “Oh goodness me!” Mummy exclaimed. “David, why don’t you go and find a table and sit down, and I’ll bring your lunch over for you?”

The lady spoke again “We have a table if you’d like to join us. Joanna is over there with Alfie.” She pointed to a girl of about the same age as my sister and the little boy, who both waved back excitedly when their mother looked over.

“Oh that’s very kind, thank you. David, go and sit with Joanna and Alfie, then at least no-one else will see that your nappy has leaked, and we can change you after we’ve eaten.”

I meekly trotted off to join the two younger children, hoping against hope that the subject of my leaking nappy was off-limits during lunch. But of course it seemed all Mummy and Annabelle wanted to talk about was how long boys stay in nappies, and how much better girls were with toilet training. Becky and Joanna were loving it. 

“Right, then”, said Mummy when we’d finished eating. “Thank you for letting us share your table, Annabelle, and lovely to meet you, Joanna and Alfie. Come on David, we’d better go and get your clean nappies and things and get you changed.”

I blushed beet red at her announcing so openly what she was going to do. But my face got even redder when Annabelle said “I’m going to take Alfie to the baby changing room to change his nappy for him. I’m happy to take David along as well if you want to go and fetch his things from the car.”

And so I was despatched with Annabelle and Alfie, with Becky and Joanna giggling along behind, to the baby changing room.

When we got there Annabelle popped Alfie up onto a changing table and pulled down his shorts. “Joanna, would you be a darling and change your brother’s nappy for him please? There’s a good girl. I think he’s only wet – he had a poo in his last nappy. I need to see to David here.”

Joanna was obviously well practiced in changing Alfie’s nappy, and her brother gurgled contentedly as she pulled down his plastic pants (plain white, I noticed) and removed his wet nappy.

“Come on then, David,” said Annabelle, let’s get you out of your rompers, and then I can sponge them clean where your nappy’s leaked.”

At first I didn’t know what she meant. Rompers? Wasn’t that what babies wore? And then I realised she was referring to my dungaree shorts. I blushed again. I suppose they did look a bit like a baby’s rompers. And with a very wet nappy on I was hardly in a position to argue that I didn’t look somewhat babyish. She slipped the straps down off my shoulders and they dropped to the floor.

“Oh my!” gasped Annabelle. I had forgotten that she didn’t know that my baby pants were pink and frilly, just like a baby girl’s knickers. Her cry had made Joanna, and the lady changing her baby on another table nearby, look over to see what was up. Joanna giggled. The lady looked back down to her own baby.
“I’m sorry,” explained Annabelle, “only I wasn’t expecting you to have on, well, you know…”

She left me standing there in my pink baby knickers, now obviously sagging with my wet nappy, and t-shirt, while she sponged the wetness from the back of my “rompers”. It made the damp patches worse, but she assured me they'd soon dry. Then she told me to lay on the changing table.

I felt helpless. Surely she wasn’t going to take my nappy off for me before Mummy got back? What was she going to put me into if she did? Alfie’s nappies would hardly fit me. She noticed my agitation, and tried to comfort me. “Oh don’t worry about having your nappy changed. It won’t take long and then you’ll be all nice and dry again. Won’t that be nice? Now, here, Alfie sometimes gets fussy during a nappy change too, but this always seems to calm him down.

With that she leaned over me and popped one of Alfie's pacifiers into my mouth.
 "She popped a pacifier in my mouth..."

Not knowing what else to do to calm myself down, I started to suck on it. As I did the other lady who had been changing her baby finished and walked past. “It must be difficult with two still in nappies,” she sympathised. “It’s bad enough with just this one! And especially when girls are older like that…” She nodded and smiled in my direction. She’d presumed that because I had pink frilly baby knickers on that I was a girl.

 "Frilly pink baby knickers..."

Joanna and Becky sniggered. Annabelle patted me reassuringly on my leg and smiled at the lady. I suppose I should have been grateful she didn’t explain that I was actually a boy wearing such girly knickers.

With Mummy still not back Annabelle decided that perhaps she would help by getting me ready. She was, she said, worried about me staying too long in my wet nappy – “We don’t want you getting nappy rash, do we?!”

She pulled down my baby knickers and slid them over my feet. And then she undid the tapes on my nappy, opened it up and took it off me.

 "She took my wet nappy off me..."

“Goodness me!” she said. “You’re very wet. No wonder your nappy leaked!”

I lay there, naked from the waist down, as she used a couple of Alfie's baby wipes to clean all round my little boy bits, and made me lift my legs up so that she could do my bottom too. By the time Mummy finally appeared with my nappies and things I’d had cream rubbed into my bottom and baby powder sprinkled over my little boy bits too.

With a clean nappy and a fresh pair of baby knickers on, and my “rompers”, as Mummy was now also calling them, back on. We bade farewell to Annabelle, Joanna and Alfie and got on our way. 

Although I really didn’t want to, Annabelle told me I could keep the pacifier.

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