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Things have changed
SalonSlave has asked me to post this.  I've put it in the fiction section but as this is a true story and basically how I got started as an AB.

My early Life
My Early Life, or How I stopped hating and started loving Nappies (diapers)

This is a true account of my early life; all names are real, as are all events. This work is copyrighted and may not be used without my express written permission. I can be contacted at

I was born on the 2nd May 1955 to Mavis and Donald Clarke, in a city called Bradford (west Yorkshire) in the North of England (UK). My earliest memory is of sitting in a bed sit (very small apartment) with my mom listing to Petula Clark on the radio singing “sailor”. My next memories are probably about 6 months later when we moved to our new house. At that time I was still sleeping in a cot (Crib), and if I became upset I would sometimes bang my head against the side of it. If I did this whilst my father was around, he’d take me out, spank me (on the back of the legs, with his hand), put me back in the cot and then bang my head against the bars for me.

This pretty much set the way my dad and I related to another for the rest of his life. I don’t recall potty training at all, but by the time I started infant school (5 years old), I was neither dry nor clean during the day or night. School was equipped to deal with the normal small accidents that children have. The teacher would take us into a corner of the classroom (behind a screen), and have our trousers and underpants removed, and be wiped and put into a clean pair of underpants. What they weren’t equipped for was for someone who couldn’t apparently tell when he needed to go, and would wet and soil himself whenever.

After various attempts by the school to toilet train me, it was felt that the best thing to do, would be to put me back into nappies and rubber pants, and to make sure that the school had a supply, so that I could be changed as and when it was needed. However at home, I think my mom had given up any attempt to train me, and was happy to let me remain in nappies.

When I was 7 years old we moved and I moved into the junior school (7 to 11 yr. olds). Mom decided that I couldn’t wear nappies any more (they were getting a bit small and the rubber pants were getting very tight and uncomfortable), so I was sent to junior school in my nice new school uniform.

Things were fine until about 930am on the first morning when I wet myself, it was assumed it was an accident caused by the excitement of a new school and my father was phoned to come and collect me (dad worked night shifts and mom worked day shifts). Dad wasn’t too happy about having his sleep disturbed, and when we got home, I got the inevitable spanking and told it was about time I grew up and starting acting like a boy, not a baby! The following days and weeks at school rapidly became a nightmare, as it became obvious (at least to the teachers), that I was totally incontinent. Mom started sending me to school with a change of trousers and underpants and if I wet myself I was sent to the nurses room, where I was allowed to wash myself and get changed, however if I soiled myself, I was either taken home or my father called to pick me up.

At home things also weren’t getting any better. I was a fairly bright child, loved reading and had a vivid imagination, but this didn’t impress dad, he wanted a son that would go out to play football and cricket, climb trees, ride a bike. All the things I hated. At school I was being teased and bullied more and more (everyone in my year knew I wet and soiled myself), and their favourite game seemed to be pick on Kelvin and make him wet his pants (or worse). The name-calling was horrible and went on day in and day out. I became more and more withdrawn both at school and home. I hated myself for being the way I was, I hated school, and I hated my parents.

At this point I was still wearing nappies and rubbers to bed, but when I was about 8, mom decide to try and get me to be clean at night. |Her version of toilet training was to take me to the toilet before I went to bed, (she literally sat me on it and then waited whilst I performed for her), then put me to bed, (about 8pm). She would then come in when she went to bed and if I was dry, would take me back to the bathroom and repeat the process), this worked, however after about 10 or 11pm, she wouldn’t come back into my bedroom until morning, by which time I was always wet and quite often soiled as well. This would get me yelled at, bathed (sometimes in cold water), and then spanked.

When mom spanked me, I was invariable naked and put over her knee. Although apart from once, she always used her hand. (The time she didn’t use her hand has nothing to do with this story). At this stage If I came home from school either wet or soiled mom took to standing me on sheets of newspaper and undressing me at arm’s length, all the while telling me how bad I was, and how lazy I was and generally making me feel about 2 inches high and 2 years old.

Over the next year nothing improved, and mom went from spanking me, to rubbing my face in wet and or soiled sheets, to leaving the wet/soiled sheets on the bed and making me sleep in them the next night. When I came in from school I was made to undress, I then had to put my Pyjama top on and just wear underpants underneath.

My dad was also getting increasingly annoyed by my marked lack of typical boy hobbies and pursuits and would start teasing me about being a girl, this unfortunately started to escalate after we had gone to some of my parent’s friends and dad caught me playing with their daughters and their dolls. He convinced himself that I would never be the son he wanted, and that if he couldn’t have a son, then he would have a fake daughter. During all this time if we went to friends or relatives I was still put in nappies and rubbers, although my mom had made my nappies bigger (she was a seamstress), the rubber pants were now even tighter, and used to cut right in to my waist and thighs). This also meant that unless my nappy leaked non-of the family was aware I had a problem, on the odd occasion they did leak, they were told I had a weak bladder and couldn’t help it.

About this time, dad also managed to convince mom that if I was going to act like a little girl, I should be treated as one. Mom bought some knickers (panties) and if dad hadn’t gone to work when I got home I was forced to wear those and nothing else around the house. Weekends were not much better, mom would either put me in nappies or dad would put me in panties and usually a vest.

When I was about 8 and a half, I noticed that dad seemed to be spending more time with me. Mom had by this time made a few pinafore skirts for me, and if dad was at home when I was, I was allowed to change into panties, a simple white school girls shirt and a pinafore dress. Dad used to sit me on his knee, tell me about when he was a boy, showed me how to make plaits and things, I suppose I liked this attention, I certainly wasn’t used to it, and in some ways, I’d play up and try to be his little girl. One day, dad told me that it was time I stopped being a little girl and grew up. He told me what grown up girls and boys did, and said that he would show me what he meant. He took me off his knee. Put me over the arm of a chair, lifted my skirt, took my knickers down and raped me.

Even today I can still see it as though it was still happening. Home life after this was not good, if my mom got control of me I was her baby and if dad got me I was his big girl, of the two I much preferred being a baby, mom wasn’t great and would quite often leave me wet and or soiled for hours but at least it wasn’t sexual abuse.  Although she did try some novel ways of trying to get me to stop wetting and soiling my clothes.  She tried taping a bottle to my penis which might have worked if there had been plastic pop bottles, but at the time they were all glass.  She also cut a wooden broom handle into about 3 inch lengths and used them as a sort of butt plug.  Neither of these worked.

This pattern went on for about 4 years until I was 12 and a half. By this time I was at senior school, and mom and dad owned a small shop (although dad still worked nights), I was allowed to baby-sit for my younger cousins once a week, and although I had to go in nappies and rubbers at least it was a change. One Saturday evening I got a phone call from my dad’s sister (aunty Kath), asking if I could go over and baby-sit her 4 youngest as she and my Uncle Alf  had been invited out and her eldest son Dennis had made plans to go out with his girlfriend. I checked with my mom and dad, and although we had made arraignments to go see my Nan, they said I could go.

I got home about 1030pm that night. My parents weren’t home, but I knew if they were playing cards that they could be late. By about midnight they still hadn’t arrived and I was beginning to worry a little bit, so phoned my Nan, who said they had left, but they were going to see some other friends that lived nearby. I stayed up to wait for them, as the shop alarm was on and they normally knocked on the door, so I could switch the alarm off before they came in. At about 130am there was a knock on the door but instead of my parent it was a police Sergeant and a police constable there. When I let them in, they asked me if I could recognise a driver’s licence (it was my dad’s). They then told me that both my parents had been killed by a drunk driver whilst coming home that night.

I couldn’t believe what I was being told, but the sergeant kept talking to me, and asking me if I had any relatives I could stay with. I eventually managed to give them the telephone number of my Aunty Kath, and they phoned her and then took me to her house. Aunty Kath said I could stay with her until things were sorted out, and sent me off to bed. I got undressed and without thinking about got into bed and went to sleep.

The next morning I was almost swimming in a very wet and cold bed, went to the bathroom and got washed then got dressed and went downstairs. Her entire family were down there, 3 boys and two girls, and despite being very embarrassed I manage to tell her I had wet the bed. She wasn’t really surprised and told me not to worry, she would sort it out.

The rest of that Sunday is really a bit of a blur, mom’s family was called and told the news, and both families decided that there should be a joint family meeting to decide what should happen to me. I can remember that during the morning I wet myself and soiled myself at least once, and although Aunty Kath wasn’t happy about it. She just made sure I got cleaned up properly and had clean clothes to wear. (Aunt Kath had a son my age who had Poliomyelitis) he could only move his head and one hand, had no bladder or bowel control at all and was still in nappies and rubbers).

Before the big meeting I was wet again and Aunty Kath suggested that it might be an Idea if a, she made an appointment with a doctor for me, as my “weak bladder” seemed to be getting worse, and that b, perhaps I should borrow some of Anthony’s things (nappies and rubbers) to protect my clothes.

At this point I wasn’t really in any fit state to object to anything and let her put them on me. I also admitted that I usually wet the bed every night, and she told me not to worry, because I could borrow more of Anthony’s things if I needed them. The rest of the families eventually arrived and it was decided that I would stay with Uncle Alf and Aunty Kath until at least after the funeral. It was also decided that Aunty Kath and my mom’s sister (Aunty Ann) would take me back to our shop and house, get some clothes for me, and make sure the shop was secure.

Whilst Ann was putting up the security grilles and sorting out some of the more important documents, Aunty Kath and I packed up my clothes. Aunty Kath noticed the nappies and rubbers and asked me about them, so I told her my mom made me wear them at night to protect the bed. She didn’t say anything but she did pack them up to take with us.

The next week really was a blur, I can remember different relatives coming to see me, and talking to me, but I think I was in a fairly deep state of shock. I was still wetting and soiling myself on a regular basis, but Aunty Kath seemed to take it in her stride, she decide that I should go back into nappies full time, as I would be more comfortable, and If I needed help I was to ask as she had changed me when I was a baby, had three boys of her own and still changed one of them. This was so different to the way I was treated at home, non-of my cousins teased me about my problem, they just assumed I was like their brother.

Usually I tried to change myself, although my nappy folding and fastening left a lot to be desired and I almost always leaked. Aunt Kath didn’t tell me off for this, just made it obvious she was there if I needed help, after one bad day of heavy soiling, I asked her if she would change me. She said yes, and said that she would take me into the bathroom instead of doing it in the front room (she normally changed Anthony wherever he was), the downstairs bathroom was adapted for Anthony, it had a large bath, a built in table with padding on it and several built in cupboards.

Aunty Kath said She would be back in a minute and asked me to get undressed but to leave my nappy and rubbers on until she came back. I did as I was told and she came back in a few minutes. Whilst I was standing there she started to run a bath, explaining that she wanted to bath me to make sure I was really clean as she didn’t want me getting nappy rash (neither did I, I had it most of the time, and I know why babies cry!).

She had me lie down on the table, then she removed my rubber pants and then a very badly soiled nappy, whilst my bottom (bum) was off the table she used a clean part of the nappy to wipe most of my bum clean, and then used a wet soapy cloth to make sure I was properly clean. Having done that, (she put the nappy and rubbers in with Anthony’s soiled stuff), she told me to get into the bath and wash myself and to call her when I was finished.

I must have spent a while in there because there was a discreet knock at the door and she came back in, helped me wash my hair (well, She washed and I moved my head when she told me to). After the bath she dried my hair and back and then asked me to lie on the table again.

Whilst I did that she got out a nappy and what looked like a babies nappy, she also got a pair of Anthony’s rubbers out as they were bigger than mine, as well as pins and a tub of Vaseline. She asked me to raise my bum and slid the larger nappy underneath me, she then very gently covered my backside in Vaseline and telling me to lie still did the same for my front, especially the creases.

She then folded the babies nappy and placed it over me genitals, explaining that they were old nappies that she used on the other children when they were babies, and that if I wet the same as Anthony did, it would help soak up the wee and be more comfortable for me. She then finished putting the nappy on and pinning it, she then pulled the rubber pants over my feet and up above my knees, and then asked me to stand whilst she made sure the nappy was properly tucked in.

She then left and told me to get dressed and come into the kitchen, as she wanted to talk to me in private. When I went into the kitchen she had made a cup of milky coffee and gave it to me. She wanted to know how I was feeling, and that if I wanted to talk about my mom and dad I could. She also wanted to know how long I had been having problems, as my mom had never mentioned it. It was a very long and difficult conversation.

I didn’t talk about the abuse as I didn’t feel able to (and wasn’t able to until I was in my 30’s). At the end of the conversation we decided that it would be best if I stayed dressed as I was, that I could use the downstairs bathroom, that if I felt I needed to use the toilet to go, and then tell her and she would re-pin my nappy, or of I used my nappy to tell her and she would change me. During that week I don’t think I made it to the toilet once (I did try, if only to try to please my Aunty), but true to her word Aunty Kath changed me as soon as I said I needed it, although by the end of the week, if Anthony had his nappy checked by his mom or his Sisters then I tended to get mine checked too.

Neither of the girls was allowed to change the nappies, but they could tell their mom if one or both of us needed changing. Also by the end of that week I was being changed whether I was in the front room, bedroom or bathroom. I was just accepted as me, and treated exactly the same as the rest of the family.

Looking back over the years, I think it was that acceptance and the way my Aunty Kath dealt with my problem that started my love of nappies. She didn’t make me feel small or little or odd or dirty, she just accepted me, and whilst she would occasionally tease me about my nappies (normally during a change), it was fun teasing. I would also like to add that despite my age (13) and despite the very intimate contact involved during changes there were no sexual feelings at all, it was just warm and loving.

However, after the funeral there was yet another big family meeting (well more like all out war). There had been rows before the funeral. Dad’s families were strict Roman Catholics. Mom’s side was Kirk (Church of Scotland). There been arguments over whether they should be cremated or buried, should there be crucifixes on one coffin, both or non. Who was going to get what from the shop and property and insurance, etc etc. and as an aside, who was going to have me!

Aunty Kath and Uncle Alf felt that I had already settled with them, and they would either formally adopt me, or I could stay with them until I decide otherwise, however my mom’s family decide that if one of them couldn’t take me (and the money I had inherited, not much about £6000 then about £50000 now they would take legal action and put me in care.

So it was decide that I would go to live with my Mom’s’ Sister (Aunty Ann), and her husband Roger (A warrant officer in the Royal Air force) and their two sons, Simon and John. I know that my Aunty Kath had a long private chat with Aunty Ann before she left about me and my problems (the Doctor my Aunty Kath took me to, said I’d grow out of it), and what Kath had done to help (nappies and rubbers)
**(Sorry I keep referring to nappies and rubber pants, but this is in the days before disposable nappies were available, it was all terries and protective rubber pants)

Aunty Ann wasn’t happy and there was a large argument about how Kath was abusing me and not letting me grow up, the upshot of which was, I was literally dragged out with the clothes I had on and not allowed to see or contact my Aunty Kath again. Nor was I allowed to say goodbye to her my uncle or my cousins.

My Uncle Roger was stationed at an air base about 300 miles from where we were, the journey down was awful, I was silently miserable all the way, refusing to talk accept to say I wanted to go back, and being told that I was an ungrateful child and didn’t I realise how much they were putting themselves out. When we eventually arrived at the base I was soaked, soiled, angry, upset and hungry all at the same time, but most of all I needed a change.

I told my Aunty Ann that I needed one, and was told that she would do it this time. But that I had to be a big boy and use the toilet, just like her two fair haired little wonders did (not her words, I came to hate Simon and John with an unbelievable intensity. They were both younger than I was, and I was supposed to grow up to be like them, YecCHHHHHH).

She took me into the kitchen, stood me on a newspaper, put on rubber gloves and literally stripped me piece of clothing by piece of clothing until I was naked and in tears (definition of Nude and Naked nude is not wearing clothes. Naked means defenceless). I was back to being made to feel about two inches tall and two years old again, she then literally scrubbed me top to bottom in the kitchen and then gave me a pair of Simons pyjama’s (pj’s) to put on, until “she could buy some clothes for me”, I did ask if she was going to put another nappy on and was told “I didn’t need them, I was a big boy.”

Well, it was a case of easier said than done, I wasn’t a big boy, I was wetting 5 or 6 times a day and every night and soiling usually about once every two days and sometimes at night as well. It was just like being at home again the only difference was that I had two younger cousins who took great delight in informing their mother every time I had an accident and taking every opportunity to make fun of me and to ridicule me to their friends.

I stayed with them for 3 weeks of pure hell. By the end of 3 weeks just about everyone on the airbase knew about Ann & Roger and their problem nephew, including Rogers Commanding Officer. It was pointed out that if Roger couldn’t solve his family problems then his promotions and postings might be delayed until he could. Two weeks later I was in front of a court and being placed in childcare, the stated reason being that they felt they couldn’t give me the stability I needed because of Rogers frequent Postings (what a load of Bull!!!!) So. I was placed in a children’s home in a small town called Wellington in Shropshire, miles away from anyone I knew or cared about.

February 1970, I had just been placed in a children’s home in Wellington, Shropshire (UK). Having had a fairly traumatic and eventful 3 months or so, I was not really prepared to be thrust into a house with about 18 other children and anywhere up to 8 adults.

My wetting and soiling hadn’t improved at all, and the only family that had accepted me for me was a long way away. My court appointed social worker (Mike) drove me from the court in Bridgenorth to the home. He was quite chatty on the short journey, telling me what I could expect when I got there, I wasn’t really listening, I’d lost my parents, my home, my one set of relatives that seemed to care for me, and the set of relatives that couldn’t wait to get rid of me.

We arrived at the children’s home (Highfield House) about 4pm and I was introduced to the Matron, Aunty Joan (I should explain that all the staff was either Aunty or Uncle but non of them were relations). That was my first shock, Joan was a somewhat plump lady but more to my surprise her and her Husband, Harry (the superintendent of the home) came from Bingley, which is about 6 or 7 miles from where I was born and raised.

Joan asked me a few basic questions, showed me where I would be sleeping (with 7 other boys), asked me if I wore vests (undershirt) and then told me to say goodbye to Mike as it was tea-time. This I did, and Joan then took me through to the dining room, I was introduced to another member of staff (Aunty Helen) and sat at a table with 5 other children all my age or younger, I can’t honestly remember what we eat that night, but I can remember being bombarded with questions about who I was, where was I from, why was I there, I tried to explain, but rapidly got tongue tied as I wasn’t used to dealing with so many people at once.

Normally after tea various jobs (chores) had to be done by everyone, but because I was new I was taken to the quite room (a room for reading or listening to the radio or watching tv) by Helen for a talk about me, and the home and a general tour so I could find my bedroom, the bathroom, toilets etc. Whilst we were upstairs she suggested it would be a good idea if we put my clothes away (we all had our own wardrobes and drawers), it was while we were doing this I wet myself. Helen noticed and asked if I had a problem, but before I could answer she explained that there were 2 or 3 others at the home (1 boy and 2 girls) that had a bed wetting problem and that David also wet during the day. I denied having a problem, despite the obvious evidence and Helen again asked if I was sure.

I again denied that I had a problem and Helen seemed satisfied, she did however tell me I would have to have a supervised bath and have my hair washed, (it was a hygiene check, as well as a check for bruises etc, but I didn’t know that at the time. All new arrivals had it done). So she took me to the bathroom and started running a bath, at the same time as telling me to undress. I was very embarrassed, as apart from family I hadn’t undressed in front of a woman for a long time.

When I was in the bath, Helen took my clothes for wash; she also said all my clothes would be marked with my name so they wouldn’t get mixed up with anyone else’s. When Helen came back, she started to wash me, when I complained, she explained that everybody had to be bathed by a staff member on their first night, and I had arrived on a night when there were no male staff available. (There was always at least one female member of staff on duty).

She finished washing me and then washed my hair (which I actually enjoyed), she then left me to get myself dry, whilst she went to sort out some clean clothes and a set of pyjamas for me for later. When I went back to the bedroom, wrapped in a bath towel, Helen was just remaking my bed, when I asked her why she said that as I had, had a little accident she had put a rubber sheet on the bed just in case I had an accident while I was sleeping.

She also explained about my bedtime (915pm) and explained that as I got older my bedtime would get later, If I wanted to read in bed there was a 15 minute limit before lights out, but I could go to bed early and read until my normal lights out time if I wanted to. She also told me that as I had had a bath that I could go downstairs in my pj’s and a dressing gown (which she gave me) or get dressed. I chose to get dressed, as I was still feeling very uncomfortable. I went down and sat in the quite room and then found a book to read so decided to go back upstairs to bed to read. So passed the first evening at Highfield House.

Highfield used to be a private house, there were numerous bedrooms for staff as well as the children. There was also a large paddock with swings, a see saw, sand pit, a log cabin (child sized) and several climbable trees. There were then three main dormitories and a small single room, I was in the big boys bedroom (that’s what is was called) which had 8 boys ranging in age from 10 to 12 1/2 (me), there was a bedroom with 4 beds from age 9 down to about 3 (little David – we had two David’s) and the girls bedroom which had six beds but only 4 were in use then (all the girls regardless of age went in here).

I think I fell asleep fairly early that night, I can remember Joan coming up and switching my light off, and not much else until about 2pm when I woke up crying in a very wet bed, I ‘d had a bad dream or nightmare and had been shouting in my sleep so one of the boys had gone to get a member of staff up.

Helen came into the bedroom in her night dress and night gown and sat with me whilst I calmed down, she also noticed that I had wet the bed, so sent me off for a bath, whilst she changed my bed, (fortunately because of the plastic sheet, it was just the sheets and not the mattress, by the time I had cleaned myself up I was a little calmer, and went back into the bedroom. Helen stayed with for what seemed like an age, but was probably only 15 or 20 minutes, just talking to me and touching my head or hand as she did, she also told me that if I woke up wet, that I was to have a bath before breakfast and take all my wet things down to the laundry room, and that a staff member would make my bed up for me.

Just before she left Helen tucked me in and said goodnight and made sure the other boys had settled. Needless to say the next morning I needed a bath, and then had to make what seemed like a long walk to the laundry room with wet sheets and blankets and pj’s, expecting to be told off or punished as well as expecting to be teased by the other kids.

The kids didn’t bat an eyelid, and when I got to the laundry room it was obvious that at least two other people had woke up wet, although one of the wore nappies. Helen and Joan were both on duty that morning (when I first went to Highfield we didn’t have a cook so the staff made the meals). Breakfast was cereal, cold milk, scrambled egg on toast, toast or bread and marmalade and tea. (Most breakfast’s were similar, but did change on a day to day to basis, as did the other meals).

I was again sat at the same table, so at least I knew some of the faces. After breakfast there were the normal chores to be done, then most of the children left for various local schools. I was told to go and wait outside the office and that I would be seen in a few minutes. At this point I assumed I was going to be punished for wetting the bed and waited nervously outside the office for about 10 minutes. Eventually the door opened and I was faced by a man who introduced himself as Harry, he invited me in and asked me to sit down, instead of the punishment I was expecting he wanted to talk about me, explain some of the rules of the home, explained about pocket money and things like that.

Then out of the blue he asked me about my bedwetting, explaining that if I did have a problem they needed to be aware so that they could help me, especially as the home were due to go holiday shortly, and needed to know who could have sleeping bags and who couldn’t (bed wetter’s didn’t get sleeping bags).

It was the matter of fact way that he dealt with it that led me to admit that I did have a little problem, but my Aunty Ann had considered it dirty and wrong. Harry explained that the home was run as much as possible as a family, with everyone helping and that there were two or three children that had problems and that nobody teased them and that neither were they punished, for my part, I had to take my laundry down, make sure I had a bath, and if I needed any help to ask a member of staff.

I still hadn’t admitted that I had daytime problems as well. Harry also spoke to me about school and asked me if I wanted to go to a local school, as I wanted to go to catering college I agreed and Harry said he would make an appointment with the headmaster later.

I was then told to go to the dining room and find Helen or Joan and see if they had any jobs for me. As I was walking to the dining room I wet and soiled myself, the first thing I did was to burst into tears; the second thing I did was to panic. I ran through the kitchen, out into the paddock and into the log cabin, it was dark and I didn’t think I would be found, at that point in my life I really felt alone and betrayed, I felt I was worthless and different and seriously thought about killing myself, whilst all these thoughts were going through my head I became aware of voices calling my name, instead of answering I tried to curl up into an even smaller ball, and started sucking my thumb (something I still do today if I am very tired).

After about 5 minutes Helen found me, and came into the log cabin to get me, I tried to push her off, but just ended up crying more and more uncontrollably and sobbing almost hysterically, she left me for a few minutes, I think to say she had found me, then came back into the log cabin with a blanket, which she slowly wrapped around me, and then just held onto me, telling me to hush and that everything would be all right. After I had calmed down she unwrapped me, took my hand and led me back to the house.

Once we got there, she took me upstairs to the bathroom, undressed me and then proceeded to start to wash me, I just stood there, still softly sobbing, whilst she was cleaning me up she talked about the other children who had problems and that they were used to dealing with all sorts of things and that it didn’t matter, but that I mustn’t be a silly child and try to run away as that worried the staff. She also told me (again) that if I did have a problem or an accident I just needed to let a member of staff know, and that they would try to help me. She then questioned me about my bed wetting and wanted to know how long I had been having day time accidents, ”had it started after my parents were killed?”

I don’t know what it was, I know that I got this strange feeling of what can best be described as mother love from Helen and slowly and stumblingly the entire story came out, how I had always wet and soiled myself, but that I was told I would grow out of it, but at nearly 13 it didn’t look as if it would.

Helen explained that she would have to tell Joan and Harry about what I had said, and that I shouldn’t worry, as they wouldn’t be angry. She then ran a bath for me and told me to have a bath whilst she went downstairs. She came back about 15 minutes later and left a pair of pj’s and a dressing gown for me and told me to put them on when I had finished and then come down to the quite room. Once I was dressed I went downstairs to find both Helen and Joan in the quite room waiting for me. Helen explained that she had told Joan about my problem and they both wanted to talk to me about it, and about what they could do to help.

That little talk lasted about an hour and a half, they explained simply that I couldn’t be allowed to wet or soil my clothes and myself especially as I was going back to school. They also explained that as we would be going on holiday soon they had to decide if I could be taken or would have to be transferred to another home for a little while.

At that point I started crying again, and explained that I didn’t want to go somewhere else, that I wanted to stay here. They explained that if I really wanted to stay I would have to let them help me, I would also have to trust them to know what was best for me. Joan then left the room saying she would be back in a few minutes. Helen explained that she was going to be my key worker (basically my ‘special’ member of staff, who I could go to at any time for a chat or if I was upset or angry or if I had an accident, this also meant whilst Helen was off duty (providing she was in the house).

At that point Joan came back into the room and passed me a box and asked me to look in it, and try not to be upset. What was in the box was a large nappy and an even larger pair of what looked like rubber pants (actually Vinyl). I started crying again, saying that I wasn’t a baby. Helen and Joan both assured me that they knew I wasn’t, but they also knew that I was a teenager with problems and that this could help me either get over them or cope with them.

They also told me that there were two others in the home who wore nappies and pants, little David was one of them (the three year old) and the other was Denise (Dizzy), who was only a year younger than I was. They went on to explain that if I agreed, initially I would have to go to a member of staff to be changed, but as I learnt to do it myself properly, that would stop, and I would do everything for myself.

Eventually I agreed to a trial period. Helen suggested that we start straight away and asked me to go to my bedroom and wait for her. When she came up she brought a supply of nappies, pins, talc and cream as well as a few pairs of the vinyl pants. She explained that the nappies and other things would be kept in a separate cupboard that I would have a key for, so that when I started to change myself I could get things out as and when I needed them.

She then asked me to undress and to lie down on my bed, which I slowly did, trying not to let her see my penis and testicles (some hope), she asked me to lift my bottom (bum) up and slipped the nappy underneath me, she then asked if I preferred cream or talc, I said that I didn’t know but that my Aunty Kath used cream on me, so Helen carefully creamed what she called “my important little places” (a phrase I still use today), she also pointed out that I was obviously starting to grow up as I had some hair (I went bright red at this), but that I might want to think about shaving it off to make nappy changes easier, whilst she was doing all this she finished creaming me and started to explain what she was doing so that I could learn to do it for myself.

Once she had fastened the nappy she asked me to get up, and then helped me step into the pants, she let me pull them up myself but then spent a few minutes making sure the nappy was tucked in, whilst telling me how important it was and why. She then suggested that I go to bed until dinnertime, as it had been a busy morning. I did and to my surprise fell asleep. Joan came to wake me up and also asked me if I need a change, I said I didn’t think so, but couldn’t really tell, so Joan asked me to stand up and slipped a couple of fingers just inside my nappy, and then told me I was ok and to get dressed and to come down to dinner.

Dinner was a quite affair with Joan, Harry, Helen, myself and a member of staff I had not met before called Stan. Conversation was fairly limited as I was very aware of what I was wearing and didn’t want either of the two men to know (They did!). Harry told me that I would be seeing the headmaster tomorrow for an interview and not to worry as I would be in the same class as Dizzy and there wouldn’t be a problem, that slightly reassured me but also upset me as it meant at least Harry knew what I was wearing, and at that point in my life the male role models I had, had , hadn’t been very good.

I could go on at great length about my time at Highfield, in many respects it was one of the happiest times in my life. It wasn’t all good, I can remember one particular holiday where I had done something very silly (Like not put a nappy on for a dare), we went out in our minibus to a fairground, on the way I wet myself and soiled myself, and the bus seat, Joan was furious and decided if I wanted to behave like a silly little boy, she would treat like one.

When we went away it was usually for the younger kids to be allocated to a female member of staff, who made sure they drank, ate, went to the toilet, didn’t get into mischief etc. I got allocated to Joan. Of course we didn’t have any spare clothes on the bus (well not for me anyway, we did have for Little David and a young girl called Caroline who also wet herself, fortunately I had on a fairly long t shirt.

Joan put me in a nappy and a pair of pants and then treated me exactly as she treated David for the rest of the day. I did eventually learn to put a nappy on myself that didn’t either fall on the floor when I stood up or leaked everywhere, but occasionally, especially if I was feeling a bit down I would go to my Aunty Helen and ask her to change me, she always did, and was always gentle and again despite my increasing age it was never sexual in any way, not even an erection.  The last time I needed Helen to change me was when I was quite ill with scarlet fever just after my 18th birthday and it was still as special as the first time she did it.

Because of the problems that I was having I was taken to be checked out by the GP (Doctor) who referred me on to hospital specialists and it was discovered I had a problem with the nerves in an area called the Cauda Equina and following what at the time was a fairly pioneering operation I got control o f my bowels, but even after an additional 2 surgeries I was still totally bladder incontinent and at 65 still am.

I still see Helen occasionally; she still lives in Wellington as does my wife’s parents. We talk about the old times and things we did and catch up on what different kids are doing now (we are all grown up). Helen is now married and has three boys of her own, but I still get that motherly caring feeling off her. At no time did I ever have sexual feelings towards Helen; she was very much a mother to me, as Harry became a true Father figure to me. When he died I lost a very good and dear friend.

Highfield was very good for me it completed something that my Aunty Kath had started the first time she lovingly put me in a nappy, I realised that it wasn’t wrong or dirty, that I was normal, but more importantly that I could be accepted as me, problems and all, Aunty Kath, Helen, and the other staff at Highfield gave me the love and support that I should have got from my parents. My Wife has now taken on that role.

32 years on I still wear nappies because I need them 24/7 but sometimes if I am down or upset my wife will put one on me, put a pair of pants on me, curl up next to me and just hold me, while I go to sleep (normally with thumb in mouth), she will also change me if I need it (sometimes, but that is her choice and I don’t expect it).

My wife died in 2010 and I lost my best friend, my true love and the person who I could be completely honest and open with.  Shortly after her death I attempted suicide which was obviously unsuccessful.  I decide to try to find a mummy and eventually found a local lady who although younger was prepared to take me on as a 2 year old non-sexual boy.  It took 3 years before she actually invited me to her flat and we had our first baby day and that all important first nappy change.  I was so nervous, would it be ok, would it feel natural, would I embarrass myself and react as a man and not a baby?  She would also change the adult me which was a different matter and not for publication.  It all went well and we started meeting on a regular basis, eventually I proposed and she accepted.  Unfortunately, she has some mental health problems and after nearly 2 years broke off the engagement and also said she couldn’t be my mummy anymore.  Whilst I was devastated, we are still good friends and over the last few years I’ve had to have both hands and one arm operated on.  She changed me and took care of me.
So after wearing nappies or pads for all of my life, I am once again looking for a mummy and also for someone that would consider possibly forcibly feminize me as it’s something I’ve been reading about on PDQ and find the idea interesting.
So that’s my story and I’ve brought it up to date.
3rd July 2020.

Messages In This Thread
Things have changed - by - 07-01-2020, 07:50 PM
RE: Things have changed - by Girlygirl - 07-01-2020, 09:07 PM
RE: Things have changed - by - 07-01-2020, 10:08 PM
RE: Things have changed - by Girlygirl - 07-02-2020, 02:12 AM
RE: Things have changed - by - 07-02-2020, 03:05 PM
RE: Things have changed - by Bill - 07-02-2020, 04:00 PM
RE: Things have changed - by Girlygirl - 07-02-2020, 05:06 PM
RE: Things have changed - by Salonslave - 07-02-2020, 11:29 PM
My early life, warning content includes abuse - by - 07-03-2020, 08:29 PM
RE: Things have changed - by Salonslave - 07-04-2020, 11:46 PM

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