Time for a Nappy Change The eighteen-year-old boy sat nervously on a high stool in the kitchen while I examined him. I say eighteen, but his pure hairless face and his adolescent frame would still get him half fare on the buses! I put the glass of milk down in front of him and pointed to a yellow door. “If you want the toilet, it’s over there...” I didn’t want any messes on the floor, not down here, upstairs in the Nursery was a different matter. Cyryl was one of my most spectacular failures during the last three years that I had been looking after adolescent and adult incontinents and after three months of outpatient treatment, he had made absolutely no progress at all. Well he should be nervous; this treatment was going to take a severe turn in the radical direction! “I’m wearing those plastic pants that you gave me last time...” He had a squeaky wailing voice that really irritated me and I found myself looking at him with loathing, God... How I was looking forward to thoroughly humiliating the boy. Monica, his sister entered the room and grinned at me.. “Well, his suitcase is upstairs and Id better go, rather you than me...” “He’ll be a very different boy when I’ve finished with him but don’t expect him cured, lets just say he won’t be wetting and soiling his underpants anymore!” Cyryl looked a picture as we both burst out laughing. “Ill take his clothes back home to wash...Strip!” Impatiently, she snapped her fingers as Cyryl pulled his sweatshirt off. “And those trousers...” Ashamed, his watery eyes raised themselves to me and I stared him down. Monica had to drag down his trousers off his bulky plastic pants. "There! That should show the nice Nurse what a big baby you are!" The boy cried out with shame as his sister squeezed the front of his sodden plastic pants. "As you can see, he's heavily wet and I think there's a nice smelly surprise around the back as well!" That didn't surprise me at all, he had come initially to me as a total incontinent and then I had felt sorry for him then but because he hadn't wanted to respond to treatment, I felt nothing but contempt for him now. Any stranger in the house now would have been surprised at my attitude but they hadn't had to work with the little squirt for the last ninety days. His sister folded his clothes as he shivered in front of me in fear and cold. His hands tried to hide the yellow stained nappy under the plastic pants but the effort was pathetic as well as futile. "It that true Cyryl, have you pooped in your nappy as well as peed in it?" "Yes, Nurse.. I'm sorry.." He replied in his squirmy voice. "Well, I think it's plain to everyone now, after all this time, that you really enjoy wearing your toilet around your bottom, isn't that true?" His eyes shot open, as if he had been scalded. "No! No! Nurse, I really try, I really do!" Tears started running down his cheeks and he started waving his arms around furiously. I leapt forward and slapped him hard across the face. Abruptly, he stopped, totally shocked and started uncontrollable shivering as fresh tears burst forth. Monica clapped with approval at my treatment. "Well done Nurse, he gets that at home but he never expected to be beaten here! Nice to prepare him for a taste of things to come!" I smiled along with her giggles. I turned on the boy. "Well. The reason that you are here is that I, as your official Nurse." I waited while those official words sank in. ". Have no alternative but to intern you in my care until such a time when you can re-enter society and mix freely with other civilized adults. That means having a clean pair of pants on." The boy looked devastated at the news, his sister had brought him under the pretence that his was to have outpatients appointment at my house, he certainly didn't know that he was here to stay! "When did you decide to put him into those nappies." I addressed the question to his sister who helped his mother look after Cyryl at home. Last week his mother had nearly been in tears when she'd brought him to the outpatients department. At the end of her tether she explained that he was soiling and wetting the bed and his clothes at almost every opportunity and she didn't know what to do. I'd given her a dozen NHS nappies and a few pairs of plastic pants. "Mummy didn't want to put him into nappies, she thought that was just too final and she was worried that he'd never get out of them if she started." Monica smiled as she pinched her brother’s cheek, which was now putrid with embarrassment. "But she went of to see Gran one night and told me to look after him, didn't she?" Monica pulled Cyryl's chin up so he was looking at her and could absorb all the humiliation that was coming his way. "Well.. As soon as she'd walked out of the door, baby boy here found himself lying on the plastic sheet that covers his mattress and having his wet and dirty underpants pulled off like a naughty baby. He tried to struggle but after a quick hard spanking he just lay there quietly, blubbering as I cleaned his dirty bottom with baby lotion and cotton wool..." As if to empathize her words, Cyryl groaned loudly and buried his face in his hands. "And you no what Nurse, the smelly little creature actually liked it, his dirty little winkle started getting hard...” His sister's face broke up with disgust as she recalled his sexual excitement. "I just couldn't wait to get his nappy on and while I pinned him into it, he seemed to get even harder. Later, while he was watching TV, I crept up to the door and spied him stroking himself through the plastic pants...You know." Monica looked a little embarrassed. "He was masturbating?" I helped her out. She nodded, her turn to turn a little red. Did he come? Orgasm?" I asked in a clinical sort of way. Again she nodded, turned a slightly darker shade. "So what then?" I was becoming fascinated by this bizarre story. "Mother came home ten minutes later and started shouting at me when she saw that 'squirt' was wearing nappies so I told her what he'd been doing and she didn't believe me, did she smelly pants...?" Monica turned on her brother and smacked him across the face. "I had to push the wanker onto the floor and take off his nappy to show her the wet semen that was covering the terry...then she was furious!" Her face lit up as she recalled the following events. Mummy then apologized to me and then agreed that her baby boy should be in nappies, but also she wanted him punished so I put the child across my lap and beat him in front of her, Oh! How he screamed and struggled." She stopped herself, realizing that she might have been sounding a little hysterical. "Mummy asked me to apologize but Cyryl has not been given the opportunity to use the toilet since that evening and when he has been left unsupervised, his hands have been tied up, so as to stop a repetition of... you know what.. She hoped that you would understand.." "I think she did well and I blame myself for wasting hers and my own time for the last few weeks. I should have known three months ago that Cyryl was a lost cause.." I approached the boy who cringed as I reached out for him, that made me smile. I would soon give him something to really cringe about! He was still crying but the tears were all washed up now, only quiet gulps and sniffs were there now. "So Cyryl, not only are you a dirty panty wetter and pooper but you are also a secret wanker, what am I to do with you?" I turned him around and pulled the elastic of his plastic pants open, peering into the depths of his bottom. His sister was right, he had succeeded in lightly soiling his nappy. I let the elastic snap shut, grimacing at the smell. I sighed and held out Monica's coat. "Tell your mother not to worry, I'll take good care of him but I'm afraid he will be in nappies for a long time." Monica shook hands, smiling. "Oh! I think she knows that.. Squirt is here not for remedial treatment, she knows that you'll be handing out some very specialized 'treatment'." she gave me a knowing smile which I returned. Monica was right, I would make this toad suffer many times over for being such a wimpy baby.... "Give me your hand.." I decided the gentle approach would result in some interesting results later on. Nervously he let me clasp his sweating palm and I led him towards the stairs. "Let's go up and I'll show you your new home.. I have a specially prepared room for big dirty babies and after all these years that I've been helping real incontinents, you will be the first resident that I've had, and that makes you an interesting case..." He remained silent and I wasn't surprised, after all, he was having to assimilate an awful lot in the last forty five minutes. Anyway, I didn't much care to hear his squeaky voice anyway. At the top of the stairs I reached for a key under the bib of my rubber apron that hung on a gold chain around my neck. I pulled his limp form towards a padded door at the end of the landing. "Come on Smelly Pants, don't be nervous, after all, you'll be living in this room for a long time. The key silently opened the well oiled lock and the heavy door swung open inwards. I had to hold him very firmly as his eyes absorbed the ominous contents of the room. to prevent panic, I gave a sharp pull on his arm and his skinny frame came tumbling over the threshold. I flicked the door with a backward heel and it silently closed, securely locking both of us in, except of course, I still had the key! Cyryl's knees were knocking together as his eyes darted around all four corner's of the room. "Well..?" I smiled at the terror in his eyes, it was a divine sight! "It's a Nursery, I can't live here.." He stared at the adult sized cot in the corner. Like a traditional babies cot, but this one had manacles clearly displayed at the four corners, one for each limb. "Don't be silly Smelly Pants, a nursery is a lovely place, a place that a baby can grow up with love and happiness. A place where mother can tend for all her baby's needs and where her baby will always feel secure. You have been there, when you were tiny and you reviled in it." I grabbed his arm again and waved my arm around the room. "But look around you, this isn't a room for a tiny baby,.." I paused to allow my voice to harden, tightening my grip on his forearm at the same time. "It's a room for a grown up pathetic drip who wears nappies and plastic pants and needs constant 'remedial treatment' from his Nurse. I grabbed him over to a bureau and opened the glass fronted cupboard. "Do those look like babies toys..." He gulped as I pointed to a tray of syringes and then a tray of scalpels. "No, my little dirty pant pooper, this certainly isn't a Nursery, It is your very own remedial treatment room!" There were no tears now, but his flesh turned clammy cold and I could smell fresh soiling in his nappy. To nudge his humiliation, I cupped the drooping plastic under his bottom with my hand and felt the heavy fecal mess. I spoke in syrupy tones directly into his ear while massaging the warm contents of his nappy around his bottom. "Is Nursey's poor baby so frightened that he's gone and filled his nappy for her, Ahhh, poor baby... Does he like it while Nurse rubs it better?" Cyryl appeared to weaken, his eyes rolled in his head and he groaned as I continued to knead the contents of his nappy around his bottom. I looked at his facial features carefully and suddenly it dawned on me! "I think you like having a full nappy, don't you?" He wasn't going to answer, his eyes stayed firmly on the ground. "Go on, admit it, you enjoy it, it makes you feel , err.. good, shall we say.." I felt the front of his plastic pants and his cock was rock hard under the sodden nappy. "Yes, I'm right, Cyryl gets excitement from filling his nappies, that's why you've been so difficult to potty train..." I gripped his ear and twisted it violently, satisfied as he fell to his knees and screamed. "And right up till recently, I thought you had a genuine problem..." I released the ear and watched him blubbering into his chest, his eyes firmly glued to the white tiled floor on which he sat. "What are you going to do with me?" He whispered. "Stand up.." I roughly pulled him to his feet and pushed him backwards until his bottom made contact with the edge of the changing table. "Lie down there..." His nappy was so wet now that it was leaking down his thighs. I buckled a restraining strap across his chest and pulled it tight, only satisfied when I heard a genuine whimper of pain. The clasp was so positioned as to make it impossible for the patient to remove it himself. "This is your introduction to the changing table Cyryl," I said, while standing over him and pulling on a pair of rubber gloves. "I imagine you'll spend many hours lying here while I make sure your treatment is carried out to my satisfaction." "Nurse, can you loosen the strap," he whimpered. I smiled at his distress. Poor boy didn't realize that this sort of discomfort would be the norm now rather than occasional. "Another remark like that and I'll tighten the straps even more. They are there for your own benefit, to stop you falling of the table while I am treating you.." He turned pale when he understood the double meaning in my voice. "Anyway, time to clean you up. lift your bottom now..." After that he was as good as gold, although I know the strap continued to give him a lot of discomfort. When ordered, Cyryl lifted his hips and I pulled the plastic pants down. He stayed silent while I kept up a continual commentary.. mainly to humiliate him but as the soiled nappy was unpinned and pulled down, I was totally disgusted. He was the dirtiest, smelliest creature it had ever been my displeasure to work with. Making this wimp suffer was going to be more fun than I had reckoned... I rigged up the leg stirrups and Cyryl groaned with pain as each leg was strapped into place, the operation causing more stain to his abused chest and the unyielding strap across it. I pulled the shitty nappy away and dumped it in a pail under the table. Now his mucky bottom was completely exposed and I was able to clean him up properly. He cried out as my rough sponge was none too gentle on his rather severe nappy rash. “what’s the matter with you?” The whimpering was getting on my nerves. For all of his life he’d made his mother, sister and now me, perform this disagreeable service on his bottom and he had the gall to complain that he was uncomfortable! His shear nerve made me scrub even harder and I was washing his bottom long after it was really clean. “Time for a big babyish nappy for you, my boy!” Soon I had him pinned into a fresh white terry nappy but this time I lined his bottom with a lint pad which I hoped would cut down on the washing. Next followed a thick pair of plastic pants that had tight elastic around the thighs and waist. It wouldn’t take many minutes before he began to find them uncomfortable! I released the strap and Cyryl slowly got to his feet, this very self conscience of the enormous bulk hanging off his hips. he’d never had such a bulky nappy before! "Into the high chair, it's time for your lunch. Are you hungry?" The creep gave me that sulky little boy look and refused to reply. "Never mind. it's not important whether you are hungry or not, you will be getting lunch.." After he'd climbed into the chair, I locked the tray across his lap, adjusting it so that it fitted tightly against his waist. There was no way that this baby was going to be able to 'get down' without my express permission. A small grunt satisfied me that fresh discomfort was being applied. I could have had the arm restrainers fitted at the side of the chair but I figured that might have encouraged the wrong posture for the patients so I had them installed at the rear. As Cyryl reluctantly held his arms out backwards, I was able to restrain his wrists and forearms, so causing him to sit bolt upright and throw his shoulders backwards. Just by listening to his labored breathing, I was well aware of his present discomfort! I studied the strained expression on his face, then cocked my head sideways. "So? What did you expect? This isn't Butlin's Holiday camp you know. If you want to spend the rest of your life inflicting your filthy nappies on your family and people like me, you must understand that a certain amount of pain goes with it as well. That's a lot of suffering just so as you can get your kicks, isn't it?" I allowed my words to sink in and watched him for a few seconds. Cyryl defiantly stared back at me. So! It appeared I had a battle on my hands. Foolish Boy! Does he really think that he can take on me, and win? "Think on what I've said while I prepare your, err, shall I say, feed?" Cyryl was looking quite flustered when I returned twenty minutes later. I put the plate of food down on the tray in front of him and then tied an adult sized bib around his neck. The large plastic surface adequately covered his naked chest and I wondered if, for humiliation value, it wouldn’t be a better idea to leave it off. This would allow copious amounts of food to fall down on his chest and lap, making him look even more of a big baby. But I did prefer cleanliness, especially in the Treatment Room. I saw him eyeing the steaming plate apprehensively. I think that maybe I'd overdone the amount slightly, the plate was brimming and piled high with what must appear to anyone to be the most unappetizing food ever produced! "I hope your hungry.." I said, perching myself on a high stool in front of him. "Because you have got to eat everything up.." "What is it," he croaked. I threw my hands up in mock amazement. "It speaks, it speaks. And what you are about to eat is full of the most nutritional goodness a panty pooper like you is likely to get." I held out the first mouthful. He opened his mouth hesitantly and I slotted the contents in. That was the easy part. I certainly don't think the contents of the dish are inoffensive, the taste must have been pretty bland but all the different textures must have had his imagination running riot and his stomach churning! It consisted of a recipe that had been developing in my mind most of the morning. I think the most important consideration was to make the dish as unattractive as possible without being repulsive and consequently bringing on a bout of vomiting. That would have been very counter-productive. The Creep was not here for the sake of his comfort and every part of his time spent here had to be like hell on earth! So, with oatmeal as a base, I brewed up a sort of porridge, to which I added vast amounts of bran, dried fruit, including prunes and sultanas. To make the dish interesting, I threw in handfuls of stuffed olives, capers and gerkins! Even as the first mouthful was being swallowed, my brain was working overtime developing new additions, possibly consisting of kippers and roll-mops! "You are doing well, Babypoops. I'm very pleased that you've taken to my cooking so well.." the dish was more than half empty but I had spoken too soon. After a few more spoonfuls hr refused to open up. I cocked my eyebrows in a question. "I don't want anymore Nurse.." He said quietly. John's mouth was set in a grim line, he turned his head away as I tried again with the spoon. "Well. I've explained the rules, and you will finish your meal. Before we return to the Changing table, do you want another chance?" predictably, there was no response and I slapped him around the face, lightly at first and then with full force. he cried out with pain but still refused to eat. I was beginning to get mad, and that annoyed me. It meant that this wormy little crap pants was starting to control the situation. I would have to lay down some ground rules right from the start. I bite back on the urge to beat the living shit out of him as he sat helplessly in the chair and soon had him out of the high chair. he was led to the changing table and within a minute he was again squealing as I tightened the belt across his chest. I re-adjusted the stirrups so that his legs were even further spread and I wondered if he was double jointed. If he wasn't, I figured with a wry grin, he soon would be! I could tell he was in pain, even though he tried not to show it. If only his mother and sister could see him now! Next I removed the drop front plastic pants, the powerful ammonia smell 0f urine rose from the steaming sodden nappy beneath. "Wet again baby! Why! You do love peeing in your nappy. Well, you might so enjoy my next treatment for you.." I removed the two pins at each side and pulled the nappy away, this time relieved to see that he'd managed to control his bowels. maybe there was hope for him yet? I doubt it! The nappy was tossed in the direction of the sluice but I separated the terry cloth from the lint liner and rolled it tightly lengthways. Urine was dripping out as I held it over Cyryl's mouth. "Open your mouth." He had no intention of opening his mouth when he saw what was going to be pushed into it. Trickles of pee were running off his tightly closed lips. Without waiting a moment longer, I exerted pressure on each side of his face and Cyryl yelped with pain, his mouth gaping open at the same time. as soon as I could see his tonsils, I inserted the rolled up lint liner into his mouth. His eyes ballooned out of his head in surprise and shock but I wasn't finished yet. A rubber strap effectively trapped the odorous gag in place. I checked his breathing and found it adequate, noting his Adam’s apple cycling in his throat. Smiling to myself, reckoned that the lint, when removed, would be considerably drier than when it went in! "This is what's known as re-cycled waste," I laughed. "But seriously, I'm worried about your screaming, I hate hearing Pissy babies like you scream, it really irritates me!" He must have guessed that I was going to beat him, he eyes were wide open with terror while I rummaged around in a drawer and pulled out a table tennis bat. I slotted myself into the space at the end of the examination table, in between his outspread legs and playfully pinched his exposed bottom. “I assure you Baby!! This is going to hurt you a lot more than it is going to hurt me!!” With that, I started slapping him. First one cheek and then the next. I closed my ears to the well-muted screams and howls and I wasn’t worried about anyone else hearing, the room was totally soundproof but it was so satisfying to see the tears streaming down his face! I must have beaten him about ten times before I stopped; great gulps of indignant outrage were outpouring and his bottom had turned a deep purple in colour. Afraid that he might be getting hysterical, I removed the gag in case the Shit Pants went and choked on me. He lay quietly while I repinned him in a thick terry nappy. “Lunchtimes can be such fun,” I beamed down at him, arranging the clean plastic pants over the bulky terry and releasing the tight strap across his chest. “Are you ready to finish your meal yet?” He was, and this time, every thing that I offered him went down, and went down quickly. It never ceased to amaze me what a good spanking does for the spirit sometimes!