Diaper Training Rubber Apron, Potty, Rubber Gloves? My mind churned over the requirements that I would be needing that evening. Yes, they were all waiting in his room. Fiona also had left me with a long list of various reminders, most of which I knew, and most of which I would take no notice of whatsoever. This was going to be my weekend, not Fiona's, not Simon's, but MINE! I sat next to the telephone in the hall, watching the front door. Simon was not due back till six, over half an hour to wait. The empty coffee cup rolled round and round my sweaty palms. I tried to relax, allowing my mind to drift back to the beginning, three months ago. Alot of water under the bridge since then. We all had changed, some for better, some for worse. I remembered Saturday 15th. of April well, what a fateful day! As soon as I got out of bed that morning, I was in a bad mood. Foul mood would describe my state of mind better. I had enough on my plate without having a 'paying guest' forced on me. But as Daddy pays the bills, my hands were tied. A distant eighteen year old second cousin, just left school was coming up to London to work at daddy's insurance office. Simon, his name was; his father had died fifteen months previously and Daddy had paid the school fees and looked after Simon's mother financially. "They are Family, we must look after our own," my Father had said. Trouble with Daddy is that he always had to help everybody out, and expect the family to do the same. Damn! It's Saturday, I should be shopping with Fiona and Sam, but now I've got to clean the flat and spend the rest of the day with Simon. I had promised the spare room to Fiona, who was finding her Edgware Road flat too expensive. We had worked a nice arrangement, whereas she would pay me half her current rent and daddy would be none the wiser. Last week I had to disappoint her which was very embarrassing. I allowed myself a smile; Poor Simon! Fiona had hated him already! I was busy most of that morning cleaning Simon's room, Only when I had finished making the bed, I remembered the package and note that had arrived from his mother yesterday. Blast! I forgot the waterproof sheet! His mother had written that he sometimes wet the bed. Apparently had done so ever since his father had died. I stripped the bed to the bare mattress and fitted the plastic sheet. Strange, an eighteen year old wetting the bed, maybe he won't have any accidents now he's up in London. Sheila, my housekeeper, certainly won't be too impressed washing sheets every day! I remade the bed and rewarded myself with a coffee. At Ten exactly, the doorbell rang. Nice to know he's punctual anyway. I opened the front door to a blushing boy holding a bunch of flowers. We had not seen each other for six years and he didn't seem any different from the shy, awkward child I knew then. I am six years older than Simon, but at the first impression, he certainly didn't measure up to an average eighteen year old man. We exchanged the usual pleasantries, as relatives normally do and I showed him up to his room. I'll say this for Simon, he was very well-mannered. On that first day I was touched by the Flowers and the 'Please' and 'Thank-you' had accompanied every statement or question that he made. Profusely thanking me for the comfortable bedroom, made me glow with pride. Simon never made conversation, you always had to drag it out of him. That first day together was impossible, I took him out in the XR3 to see London. Eventually I got tired of playing the chatty hostess and kept quiet. By the end of the day when he had fled to his room, I was very uptight, this 'paying guest' business was not going to work. After a quiet night in front of the Telly, I dragged myself upstairs. Simon's waste paper bin had been placed outside his closed bedroom door. I was furious when I saw he had screwed up the waterproof sheet and stuffed it inside. 'Bloody Nerve!' But I didn't want to make a scene, an embarrassing scene as well on his first day, but thought I ought to make a minor protest. I knocked loudly and barged in, too angry to worry about waiting to be invited. Simon, who was sat up in bed, reading, actually got rebellious when presented with the discarded plastic sheet. "I certainly don't need that anymore, I apologise for my Mother." He had said. Blushing, I excused myself, realizing that his mother was over zealous and couldn't accept Simon departing from the apron strings. I even told him I was sorry! That was the last time I ever backed down from Simon, what a fool I was! The next day I was busy with the VAT Inspectors all morning at the Boutique, Simon was up early and crept out of the flat before I was up. Probably plaguing Daddy at the office. I didn't give him much thought, leaving Fiona with a busy shop while I battled away with two dour faced Inspectors. A distressed Sheila rang at lunchtime with her bombshell. Simon had wet the bed and the mattress was ruined! I spent five minutes trying to placate her, her ultimatum of resigning ringing in my ears as I put the phone down. God! I was mad. Simon was proving far more trouble than I had imagined. Then I made a fool of myself. I went and phoned Daddy, complaining about my new lodger. He was mad at me! If I threw him out, he'd throw me out! Make it work, he said. You're a woman, you should have some ideas. Make an effort to cure his problem. he gave me that special 'Daddy' tone which suggested that if he heard about it again, he'd get very angry. So, my hands were tied, I was stuck with Simon, that is, until he decided it might be more comfortable living somewhere else...Oh! How naive I was then... Sheila had left the mattress bare and the windows open. I was back early that afternoon, angry with Fiona because I failed to understand her amusement when I told her of my problems. The mattress was dry now, but there remained a vivid stain, evidence of Simon's lack of control. I turned the mattress over and remade the bed, this time WITH the plastic sheet. Let him try and take it off this time, I'll murder him! He'd been with me for only two days and had already ruined a mattress, upset the cleaner and, more important, upset me. I had been in the kitchen when I heard his key in the latch. We met each other in the hall, guilt was written all over his face. He looked just like a little boy, lost and confused. I was too annoyed to take the Mothering Road, if I had to live with him, I certainly didn't have to pamper him. Without giving him the time of day, I pushed him upstairs in front of me. When I showed him the stain on the mattress and the re-installed waterproof cover he appeared ready to cry! 'Oh, I'm sorry , Oh It won't happen again,' I listened to all the excuses and they only made me more angry. I told him that if he wet the bed again, I wanted to know about it and he'd have to wash the sheets. Sheila certainly wasn't going to. Hell! I was beginning to sound like my old school Matron! This grown man in front of me, hanging his head in shame and almost in tears. 'Susan', I told myself. 'Your actually enjoying the poor boy's misery.' Try as I could, I couldn't bring myself to feel sorry for him. He was another problem I really didn't need. Fiona had invited herself to supper that evening, as often was her habit. This time the reason was obvious, to check out the new lodger. She was aching to see a grown man who wet the bed and to rub Simon's nose in it, I was looking forward to the confrontation. When Supper was on the table, I called Simon down. Fiona started giggling when he didn't show. Oh! Simon's sulking, I had fumed. I adopted my irate 'mummy' role and marched upstairs, almost dragging him out of his room by the ear. Physically, I was easily more powerful than Simon, who's skinny frame couldn't have held more than nine stone around it. What ever happened to the good mannered boy who arrived yesterday. He was very rude at the table that evening, refusing to speak when spoken to and ignoring us both. I knew he was slowly digging his own grave by this fruitless wallowing in his own self pity. He tried to leave the table before the sweet. I snapped at him, and like a naughty puppy, he cowered back into his seat. Fiona, bless her, broke the atmosphere at last. She asked Simon if he'd got the plastic sheet on the bed this evening. Much to poor Simon's shame, we had both burst into hysterical laughter. After Supper, we refused to let Simon retire to his room. Fiona couldn't believe at the way Simon jumped, whenever I shouted at him. We left him watching TV while we washed up. 'He's a wimp, a real wimp' Fiona had giggled. It took some explaining why I couldn't get rid of him, Daddy and all. Fiona fortunately agreed to help with his rehabilitation, but in those early days, I had no idea which course it would take or what her motives really were... I heard Simon get up the next morning and I jumped out of bed and threw a dressing down on, just managing to prevent the bathroom door locking on me. He attempted to flee back to his room but I pushed him against the bathroom wall and held him there. He stank of urine and his pyjamas were soaked from his chest to his knees. I pulled him into his room and tore the covers back. Everything needed washing, including the Duvet. I was white with rage. The Duvet was Duck Down and it would have to be dry cleaned, if not thrown away. I didn't think of Simon as an adult anymore, just an irritating child who was getting on my nerves. 'Strip', I had ordered. Soon he was naked in front of me, the smelly pyjamas in a heap at his feet. I added the rest of the soiled linen to the pile and pushed him into bathroom, running the bath for him. He was well aware I was angry, staying totally silent while I watched him soap himself. Then my tirade had begun, I shouted at him for five minutes, most of it humiliating remarks about his infant behaviour. At the end of it he was weeping and I was worn out. What I couldn't understand was the way he just sat there and took everything I could throw at him. I was hoping for a little spirit, maybe defiance of some sort, but not this sullen silence and tears. It had slowly dawned on me that possibly Simon did enjoy being treated like a child? And maybe acting like one?.. At the boutique that day, I had phoned Sheila apologizing about the washing and explaining that it was an on-going problem. Could she go to the Cleaners with the Duvet for me? As soon as she had realized that my back was against the wall, she sympathised with my problem. She had been an Angel! After all, Daddy paid her wages too! Why don't you ask him to wear a diaper? Much easier to wash. Sheila, you're a miracle! What a great idea. And I certainly wasn't going to ask him, Simon just wasn't going to have the choice. Sheila had volunteered to do some shopping at Boots for me.. Fiona, with her prying ears, had seen me smiling as I put the phone down. I told her. She almost fell over laughing at the thought of Simon wearing a diaper. 'Don't be silly', she had said. 'He'll walk out on you.' It took a while to convince her that Simon really was ready for some firm handling. I didn't imagine there would be any problem whatsoever. Fiona, of course invited herself over that evening, but this time had agreed to do the cooking. We had a tacit agreement that we would treat Simon gently. Being firm with a purpose was one thing, being cruel was another. We both had different motives for putting Simon in diapers. Fiona at the time, had been bitter that he had taken the room that would have been hers and would get maximum satisfaction from seeing the unwanted visitor humbled as an infant. Also, Fiona had a general dislike of men as a rule, never keeping a boyfriend more than two weeks before saying or doing something very unpleasant, which normally resulted in them running a mile! I would like to say that I plainly disliked the chap and therefore in order to get him to move out, I should treat him like dirt. But I knew with Simon, that wouldn't work. He really had wanted to live in harmony with me, there wasn't an ounce of malice in him. The real reason had been the cost of replacing Duvets every week, keeping Sheila and Daddy happy and trying to cure the pathetic lad. Simon hadn't been at home when we arrived, a note he'd scribbled told us he'd gone to supper with some old school friends and wouldn't be home till Ten- thirty. Fiona had been secretly disappointed, obviously hoping I was going to wrap Simon up in diapers as soon as we entered the flat, and send him to bed early without any supper! I had been pleased, I would be able to shoo Fiona off before he returned and deal with Simon myself. Fiona hanging around and gloating wouldn't do anything for Simon's moral at all. Hidden under my bed I found the package that Sheila had bought for me, or should I say Simon. We sorted the contents out on the Dinner Table. Fiona giggled when she saw the adult plastic pants and diaper pins. Sheila had also purchased four large white towels, obviously to be used as the diapers. We spent half an hour practising the art of folding a diaper, using Fiona as the Dummy! That could have been embarrassing is she hadn't been wearing jeans. After we'd eaten, watched TV and played cards, I had managed to boot Fiona out. She begged me to be allowed to stay and I could only get rid of her if I promised to let her come the following evening. Whew!! that girl was too much, no wonder none of her men ever lasted. The front door had opened exactly at Ten-thirty. Simon was surprised when I greeted him warmly, he responded in the same manner and we chatted while we drank coffee. He didn't mention anything about the morning, innocently oblivious to the extra work that he had created for Sheila. His mother probably took the bed change as a normal domestic chore. He seemed a bright lad and for forty minutes, really opened up to me. It didn't take me long to realize that he'd had a few beers and it was the alcohol talking. Not that I had objected, it would make my task that much easier. After he'd finished his coffee, Simon bade me goodnight and tramped off upstairs. I remember listening carefully to his movements and had noted with despair that he didn't even bother going to the Bathroom. Didn't wash, brush his teeth, or even have a pee! Perhaps he'd always had his mother to tell him to do those things, or maybe she'd never bothered. I had waited another thirty minutes to make sure he was firmly settled in bed.... Deep, even breathing told me Simon was sound asleep that evening when I entered his room. I left the door open, allowing the Landing light to fall across the bed. I pulled the covers back and tugged down his pyjamas. Simon was sporting a massive erection, which had made me gasp in surprise. I wouldn't have imagined the worm-like penis that I'd seen in the bath this morning, growing to such size. I moved it to one side and felt his belly. Ah! No wonder, his bladder had been swollen, tight, and just about to burst. In those early days, a niggling thought in my mind had churned over the possibility had he had deliberately gone to bed without having a pee. With his behaviour over the last couple of days, it had seemed plausible, maybe almost certain. I had folded the diaper and pushed it between his thighs, my other arm squeezed under the base of his spine and lifted his buttocks in the air. His legs had tensed when I lifted, he had been helping me! When I looked at his face, I realized he was wide awake, and probably been so for the past three minutes. Our eyes had made contact, there was no rebellion, which didn't really surprise me. What did shock slightly then was the fact that he had been expecting me, the diaper was expected too! Nothing was said. His expression of contentment said it all. I pinned the diaper up and pulled the transparent pants over the bulky towel, replacing the pyjama pants as well. I had smiled and cooed at him, kissing him on the forehead.. My alarm had woken me at eight the next morning, Simon must have risen quietly, cleaned himself up and left for the office, or so I had thought. I had stumbled through to the bathroom and searched around for the wet diaper. Not there. So, he must still be in bed. Daddy would not be amused if he turned up late, I would have most certainly got the blame! Simon was fast asleep when I entered. he came awake with a start when I shook him on the shoulder. Simon had looked at me blankly, totally lost when I tried to explain he was late for work and ought to be getting up. Impatience and slight panic made me rip the duvet off him and grab him by the arm, heaving him off the bed and propelling him towards the bathroom. It had appeared to me that Simon was not to keen on getting up, or maybe changing his own diaper. At the time, I hadn't been too sure. I followed him into the bathroom and asked if he wanted any help, after all, I had put the diaper on! Simon just nodded sheepishly at me and held up his arms. So, there I was, already slipping into the role of Nurse Maid! Hell! What was I doing, changing the wet diaper belonging to an eighteen year old? A nightmare was flashing through my mind and I had been horrified by the warm, sodden diaper in my hand. That first day, the first wet diaper, where was it all going to stop? If I knew them, I would have taken a very different course! I rubbed a wet sponge over his crotch, there was no more time. I had sarcastically asked if he needed any help dressing, he promptly gave me that now famous, "Oh I'm so helpless Look". He got my most withering glare before fleeing to his room. After he had gone, I checked his bed. Everything dry, So, on that morning I left for work with mixed blessings. All Simon needed was a routine, and a Nanny! Fiona was dying to know all 'the news' and I managed to put her off until the morning rush had died down. Then, after intense pestering, had wearily given her all the 'gory' details. She appeared to be thrilled, and during the entire day, never ceased to remind me that she'd be arriving 'tonight'. If only I'd been firmer!.. Regretfully, I took the plunge and invited her to stay. If Simon was to be a baby, then she could jolly well help me look after him. She was ecstatic! I was beginning to feel for Simon, he really didn't need Fiona treating him like some monkey in the zoo. At lunch I had made her promise to behave, treat Simon firmly, but with respect for his feelings. Happily, she had agreed. But then, she was never very good at keeping promises... Daddy had rung that afternoon, What a surprise! He rarely called, unless it was some important family matter, or I had been spending too much money, usually the latter. After the usual pleasantries, he asked how Simon was getting on. Strange, I had thought. I had believed that matter 'closed' as far as he was concerned. "How are you getting along with Simon?", he had asked. I assured him that Simon settling in well and the future was looking bright, Daddy certainly wouldn't appreciate the details, nor understand them. He hinted a minor concern that Simon was having problems at work, eventually implying that I was not making him totally welcome at home. 'Are you washing his shirts?', he followed. I had bitten on my reply, not wanting to antagonize him further. I promised to do better... Fiona had insisted on stopping at Mothercare and a local chemist to spend a bit of her own money on some extra items which she felt were essential for Simon's care. I had tried weakly to dissuade her but found myself in giggles at the items she loaded into the basket! Simon was at home when we arrived back, sitting cross legged in front of the stereo and shaking his head to 'Bros' which was blaring loudly throughout the flat. After turning the noise off, I went upstairs and fetched a diaper and waterproof pants while Fiona helped Simon off with his clothes. At the time, it seemed the most normal thing in the world, saying to Simon, 'Take off your clothes, it's time for your diaper!" It certainly wasn't a problem for Simon, he didn't even flinch an eyelid at the statement. Happily pulling off his tie and jacket. I made eye contact with Fiona with said it all, Simon was a baby!, a great big adult baby! Fiona had spread a plastic sheet over the dining room table and helped Simon lie on it. She was a natural! Simon was totally at ease with her, smiling away as she cooed at him. He was shivering slightly, maybe nervous, or maybe with anticipation.His sexual arousal was obvious, but to Fiona and myself, it seemed totally normal, just something that babies had sometimes. I had been in a daze. Was this real? I had pinched myself, opening my eyes to see a naked man lying on a plastic sheet on the table! Fiona fetched a bowl of warm water and towel and started sponging Simon down, while I followed with the towel. When we had finished, our adult infant was smelling sweetly of Lavender soap, a pleasant change from two days of body odour. My experience of the male anatomy had been limited until that afternoon when Fiona handed me a pair of scissors and a razor with instructions to remove ALL hair from his groin. I think I was more frightened of cutting him that realizing that I was finally reducing him to a baby. I was that close then that he must have felt my breath on his skin, peering at his genitals like a worried surgeon! We bade him turn over and adopt a 'doggie position', Fiona prising his cheeks apart while I sliced away at weak growth around his anus and the base of his scrotum. If he had objected in anyway to his treatment, I don't think that I would have been able to carry on. It was as if we both were 'daring' him to protest as each stage led on to a further degradation of his pride, or manhood, which was falling apart like petals from a rose. I recall experiencing a feeling of grim satisfaction as each operation was completed successfully, without incident or rebellion. Guilt? Those early days were rift with guilt, the wicked sensation of debasing a adult male to a child worried me, or maybe excited me. I had been confused...Fiona hadn't been. She was totally engrossed in her task, her eyes bright and alert with a hint of feverish colour in her cheeks. With mixed feelings, I found myself being half dragged along with the whole operation. Cream and powder were applied to his bottom, thighs and crotch. Simon gasped with pleasure as I coated his rock-hard erection with barrier cream. I had half expected him to ejaculate into the palm of my hand! Disappointment showing plainly on his face when I broke contact. The diaper was prepared and slid under his hips, Fiona thoughtfully adding a diaper liner, making Simon blush furiously as she mockingly told him what it was for! Simon had spent the next hour lying on the carpet in front of the TV, sucking on a baby's bottle of milk. As soon as each one was empty, Fiona replenished it, spending five minutes in the kitchen each time making a 'cocktail' with a powder that she had purchased from the chemist! Fiona's zeal in those first few days contributed prominently to the headache now... Simon had succeeded in wetting his diaper within ten minutes, a fact that was brought to our attention by a baby moan of 'mummy'. Fiona made a great show of pulling down the plastic pants, touching the soaking material and grimacing at his wet condition, before snapping the waterproofs back and promising a change 'later'! So!, as long as Fiona had been quiet happy to do the dirty jobs, I was content to allow her a free hand! Fiona had insisted that while at home, he wasn't to use the loo at all! Simon certainly appeared happy with this arrangement, having already displayed his eagerness to debase himself by willingly wearing diapers and using them! So I had no real objection, as long as Fiona did the lion share of the 'toilet duties' and Sheila was not left the 'heavy' washing. I had to put my foot down when Fiona tried to change him on the dinner table, shooing them both up to the bathroom. After all, we did have standards to maintain! An old school chum was coming to supper that evening, a long standing engagement that I hadn't, and really didn't want to put off. It had been decided to leave Simon with a diaper under his normal clothes and let him join the party like any other member of the family. That had been fun! Trying to squeeze a pair of trousers over his bulky hips. By the time he was dressed up it was blatantly obvious to Fiona and myself that he was wearing 'something' under his trousers and Isabella was bound to notice. But, Simon was an adult, what he chose to wear was his own concern... Certainly, nothing to do with me! I don't usually get into situations which lead to embarrassment, but that evening topped the lot! It was the normal chit-chat about the old days, life in Kensington, and so on. Simon was brought in often and surprisingly, contributed well to the ambience of the gathering. He had stayed sitting most of the time, but got up often to refill glasses. Isabella's a bright girl, she knew what Simon was wearing under his slacks. More than once I noticed Isabella staring at his padded loins. Of course, nothing was said. She was far too well brought up to mention anything so personal. But supper had been a different matter! I don't know who had been more embarrassed, Simon, Isabella or me. We had just finished the main course and Simon was gathering up the plates. Just then, Fiona's milk cocktail had finally decided to work and Simon's bowels erupted noisily into his diaper, bringing all conversation to an abrupt halt. There was a deadly silence for a moment or two before Fiona jumped up and eased the dinner plates out of Simon's frozen hands. 'We will be down shortly', she had said, smiling sweetly and leading a ashen Simon out of the room by his arm. A sickly blushing Isabella had made some remark like, 'Oh, poor boy, I thought he had a problem.' I had recovered very quickly, and steered the conversation back onto safe ground. By the time Fiona and a fresh, clean diapered Simon re-appeared, everything was back to normal. That evening, we had made up the folding bed for Simon in what was now Fiona's room. While he was lying naked on the plastic covered mattress, waiting for his night time layette, we sorted through all his clothes. What an upbringing this boy had! Most of his clothes were dirty and all had been shoved back in the drawers! I was desperate to find a clean shirt so he could appear presentable at the office in the morning. Luck! There was one left. There was no clean underpants, his mother had packed only three pairs and they appeared to have been dragged through a drain. The more time we spent with Simon, the more we realized that he needed to be treated like a baby. Fiona has a beautiful body, and I've seen her naked many times, but I never expected her to disrobe in front of Simon. Granted, she was a bit the worse for drink but the gall of the girl! I had watched, horrified as she stepped out of her knickers and knelt next to Simon. She squeezed baby oil over his penis and started rubbing it in. I closed the door and left them to it, frowning and confused.. During those early days, Fiona and I were very busy. Fiona busied herself with all the extra washing. The bathroom started looking like a chinese laundry with diapers hanging everywhere. I dusted off my mending box and we spent many hours making Simon some clothes, suitable for a adult infant. While I finished off two romper suits, Fiona made up another dozen diapers, also some double thickness towelled underpants, that would be worn under plastic pants at the office. We ordered and received three pairs of rubber pants and a rubber track suit. Simon was thrilled when we showed him the rubber items. He had balled them up and sniffed them deeply, relishing a smell that took him back to infancy. Nothing surprised us anymore, Simon didn't fall into his new role, he jumped into it, and head first. Both Fiona and myself initially felt slightly disappointed at the ease of returning Simon to babyhood. It goes against the grain of any man to be totally humiliated as we had done to Simon. I think when we first started, we were secretly hoping for a challenge. But it had been all too easy. Maybe what we really needed was to see him suffer, possibly cry sometimes. But if he suffered, he suffered gladly, and if he cried, it was always with pleasure and contentment. After Simon had been with me for three weeks, I was getting glowing reports about his progress at work from Daddy but still our lives were totally devoted to HIS care and HIS needs. The flat was starting to resemble a giant nursery, the bathroom, with diaper pail full to the brim, smelt like a baby's changing room. The whole business was starting to grate on my nerves. What started as a zealous attempt to cure a bed wetting problem was now a major commitment on both our parts. Maybe I was just bitter, Fiona seemed to be having all the fun. I tried to close my ears to the sound of love-making coming from their room, often wishing I could just wander in and join them. Oh yes, I had been invited many times, but I'd closed my prudish ears to such a suggestion, only to lie alone in bed, restlessly pressing my hands into my damp vulva. But having said that, I never ceased to be amazed at Fiona's energy. nine times out of ten, Fiona changed Simon, whether he was messy, or just wet. Fiona fed him, sat him on the bidet to wash his bottom, scraped his ears out, rinsed the diapers, and all the other unpleasant jobs that regressing Simon had produced. When we first started, I thought Fiona would be the one to find Simon contemptible, to ridicule and punish him. It now worried me that our roles were reversed. I now felt angry and resentful. I didn't want to admit that my best friend had fallen for a overgrown infant and had no time for me. Usually, at the boutique, Fiona would go into great detail about Simon's amazing feats of 'cockmanship'. She would gush about Simon 'this' and Simon 'that'. One day I ended up screaming at her to shut up and get on with some work. It all came to a head when Fiona announced a couple of days ago that she had to spend a long weekend with her parents, and would be leaving Simon totally in my care. I was livid, but bit my tongue and held my peace. After all, this dog was about to have it's day! As time had passed, Simon had grown wary of my moods, sometimes avoiding me if he possibly could. If I had to change him, I would be extra rough with the flannel, making him wince with pain as I 'washed' his testicles. Even this minor revenge was pointless, upsetting Fiona was very counter productive, usually resulting in a row and tears. I remembered seeing a satisfied smirk on his face after Fiona and I had been bitterly contesting whether he should sleep in her room all the time. Fiona won. Last night, Simon had been forewarned about Fiona's five day absence and I had taken great pleasure in sneaking up to the closed bedroom door and overhearing Simon pleading with Fiona not to go away. So, I'd had a busy day. A shopping trip to a hospital supply shop had equipped me with the necessary items to start Simon's potty training. A noise at the door made me look up. The key in the latch brought me out of the past. I put the coffee cup on the hall table, stood and adjusted the rubber apron and cap in the mirror before turning to face him. Simon dropped his briefcase with shock! Or was it horror? By his reaction, the sight before him must have been his worst nightmare. I was dressed head to foot in a Nurse's uniform. Starched cap, royal blue tunic, white rubber apron, rubber gloves, black stockings and high heeled patent leather shoes. Simon stared at me, finally letting his eyes settle on the riding crop that was clasped tightly in my right hand. White faced, he managed to stammer out a greeting. "Hel..Hello, Susan." I gave him my most contemptible glare. "Undress, leave your waterproofs on." "What are you going to do?" His pleading tone irritated me, Poor Simon, frightened at last! I ignored the question, lifting the whip threateningly. Simon didn't need any more encouragement. Within a minute he was down to his rubber pants, hands covering his groin and knees shaking. I was sure this time he was shaking with fear, nothing else! I pointed up the stairs with the whip. "Go to your room." Simon started to whine. "Do what your told, or you'll make it worse for yourself." I followed the quaking creature up the stairs and into Fiona's bedroom. I had stripped her bed and covered the mattress with the rubber sheet. Simon looked around, trying to see where his homely little fold-away had gone. That had been stacked away. His eyes settled on the potty that proudly occupied the vacant space. As I thought, devastation! Simon was definitely not happy about the idea of being potty trained, not happy at all! I smiled at his face. "Time to grow up Simon, it happen's to all babies. On the bed now." He weakly dropped down onto the rubber sheet. His eyes had watered over, defeat clearly etched deep within them. I pulled the tight rubber pants down, Fiona had especially ordered a smaller size, to prevent leaking at work. As usual, the 'trainer' pants were saturated with a whole day of dribbling. I slid them off and let them fall with a wet 'thud' on his chest. Simon flinched as they landed, well aware of the sharp urine smell that he had happily inflicted on Fiona and myself for the past twelve weeks. "Not nice eh.. Simon? Not nice at all." I reached down and squeezed his sexual organs, he gasped with discomfort as I applied pressure. "No, no Susan, not nice at all!" He screamed, throwing his hips in the air. I released him and dropped the soaking pants into the pail. "You can wash them later, and any others that you might choose to wet or soil from now on, not with the machine, but by hand." I smiled at the look of horror on his features. Reaching down, I tugged at a ear and pulled him off the bed. He shot up standing like a scalded cat. Poor boy, I thought. Over the next five days he'd better get used to this treatment otherwise he'll be in a great deal of distress! I'll ring Daddy on Sunday night and tell him Simon has flu. I sat on the bed and slapped the rubber apron that covered my lap. "Lie across here." Simon's knee's started knocking together violently and he had no intention of following my last instruction. He turned to run. I was faster and he landed heavily across my thighs as I grabbed a forearm and yanked him down. For the next thirty seconds or so, I managed to release all the frustration, anger, jealousy and bitterness that had grown inside me over the past few weeks. Only when I developed a muscle cramp in my right arm did I cease the beating. The palm of my hand was stinging but that was nothing compared to the condition of Simon's bottom, which were radiating a deep crimson colour. His screams slowly turned to loud sobs and then to deep gulps. Tears still rolling fiercely down his cheeks. I breathed a sigh of relief. Grateful I'd found the courage to do something that his mother should have done years ago. Poor boy! What a rude awakening to the real world. I gently lowered his shaking frame to the carpet and fetched soothing cream. I knelt beside him and delicately rubbed a generous amount into the burning skin. This brought a fresh protest and I tried to reassure him. "There, there. This will make it better." Soon the sobs turned to wimpers and finally he was at peace. I wiped his eyes with a tissue and helped him to his feet. After he had washed himself, I pinned Simon into a fresh diaper and rubbers. Then came my little surprise! I led him into my bedroom and fitted a black lace suspender belt around his waist and guided him into matching stockings. His face was a picture! I was delighted with the transformation though at the time I don't think he shared the same opinion. The picture was spoilt slightly by the fact that the only shoes he could slip on were his own plimsolls. "How do you feel, do you like it Simon?" "It's very err.. different. I suppose I'll get used to it." He answered diplomatically, fidgeting with the stocking tops and stroking his nylon-covered thighs. I smiled and kissed him on the lips, causing his eyes to light up and shine at me. "Thank you Susan, thank you very much." I knew he was near to tears and led him off to the bathroom, pointing at the overflowing diaper pail in the corner. I had to teach him step by step how to wash his own dirty pants, not a task he relished, but he realized this time he had very little choice. There was no rebellion. Simon knew I meant business and obliged with complete cooperation. It must have been a novelty at supper that evening to be given a spoon and told to feed yourself. I kept the diet the same, processed veg and meat. Fiona had prepared enough for the whole weekend and stored it in the freezer. Very thoughtful of her! After the meal, Simon again had to be shown how to wash the dishes! In a couple of days he might be quite useful to me. I kept him dressed only in diapers, rubber pants, stockings and the suspender belt. The diapers were there mainly to guard against accidents but would remain for a long time, sometimes in the background, to constantly remind Simon of his station in life. In my heart, I dreamt that Simon was a well built, mature, good looking man. I knew that was wistful thinking, Simon would always need a 'mummy' or mistress. He would never be able to make decisions for himself. Gone now were the baby dresses, bottles and bibs. Simon was about to grow up into a healthy young girl. After the dishes had been cleaned and put away, Simon fetched the potty and placed it on the carpet, in front of the TV. "I'm upset with you Simon, you're wet again! From now on, you'll use the potty." I said, stripping the sodden garment away from his hips. I made him sit on the plastic rim of the potty for one hour, well aware of the discomfort he was suffering on his battered bottom. Eventually, he was able to perform, much to my relief and delight! Training Simon was bring out all my own maternal pride. With lots of hugs I rewarded the effort, then wiped him with a tissue before shooing him away with two new chores. I turned off the bedside light and tried to sleep, but erotic pictures in my subconscious kept bouncing around in my head. I pressed my hand to my sex to find solace, gently rubbing my damp vulva through the cotton of my pyjamas. Hell! That just made it worse. Tossing and turning in a light sleep soon had me perspiring heavily. I turned on the light and looked at the alarm clock. "Damn!" I punched the bedclothes with my fists. It was one thirty! I was never going to get a decent rest like this. A dull ache which radiated from my fanny, soon had me throwing back the covers and examining myself. The lips of my vulva were swollen and glowing dark red. I lightly touched the head of my extended clitoris and the returning sensation made me groan with frustration. I rolled off the bed and allowed the pyjama pants to fall around my ankles. I needed sex, It was as basic as that. I felt no shame at all, maybe a touch of wickedness at the wanton desire, and I knew exactly where to find it. Simon may be Fiona's, but, best friend or not, he would be mine tonight. Simon was still half asleep as I dragged him through to the bathroom, where I stripped off the wet diaper and quickly sponged him down. I think he took my haste for anger at his lack of control because he came wide awake very quickly and began shivering with apprehension and fear. "Don't fret yourself Simon." I fondled his limp penis, trying to reassure him. "I want you to sleep with me tonight..." "But.. Fiona?" He asked, alarmed. "I won't tell her, if you don't. Do you understand?" His cock started growing in the palm of my hand. "Oh, yes Susan, I understand." Simon moaned with pleasure as I pulled back the foreskin and lightly pinched his glands. "There, is that nice?" Without wasting any more time, I tugged at his swollen manhood and led him through to the bedroom, feeling it growing harder and firmer with each passing second. Simon allowed me to guide him onto the mattress, where I quickly mounted and sat astride his hips. For several moments, I rested the tip of his penis in the valley of my vulva, rocking gently backwards and forwards, groaning each time the swollen sticky glands made contact with my clitoris. This is heaven! I was now experiencing a secret fantasy that had been buried deep within my subconscious. The dream of having a totally compliant man beneath me. A man that would do anything I wished or desired. What other girl could boast of that! I looked round at Simon, who had his eyes closed and was gently moving his body in tune with my rocking. He looked completely at peace. I slid my buttocks back towards his face, stopping when I felt his hot breath rattle against my sex. No words were exchanged, I bore down slowly, feeling his darting tongue flicker it's way into my vagina. Oh! Total bliss! To suppress my vocal desire I gulped on his raging cock. And what a cock, no wonder Fiona had leapt at the chance of sleeping with him. This beautiful member had been responsible for keeping Fiona so loyal all these months. There was a steady flow of discharge from the tip which my tongue rapidly lapped up while his hips moved rhythmically with my mouth, trying to push his hard penis all the way down my throat. Wave after wave of sensational pleasure, slowly at first, and then building up to a crescendo, broke against my clitoris. I lived and died during that orgasm. Never had I experienced such total release! I sat heavily on his face, squeezing every last ounce of exhilaration out of Simon. The torment flowed on and on, going on for ever. His cock lay untouched beneath my chin as I enjoyed the fading moments of orgasm. My lips reached down and kissed it, This stallion was dying for release, but not yet. "Take off my top Simon." We both knelt on the bed as Simon pulled the soaking cotton over my head. Simon's eyes were transfixed on my full breasts, which bounced gently up and down in front of his eyes. "Oh my!!" He mumbled, cupping one in his sweaty palm and squeezing. I fell back against the headboard, allowing Simon to drop into my lap and take a nipple in his mouth. Various lovers had sucked my breasts before, but it had never been an activity I enjoyed, much preferring the more basic attention around and between my thighs. Simon on the other hand was different. Like a new born infant, he curled up on my tummy, lay his head on my chest and sucked slowly...and gently. That familiar maternal contentment returned. I felt for his penis, still poking six inches in the air and rolled it up and down. Simon, without being asked, pushed a hand down and inserted two fingers into my soaking pussy. I buried my face in his hair, whispering to him. "Oh Darling, you're divine. Fiona can't have you all, I think we must share you. Do you like that idea?" Simon didn't have time to reply, his orgasm took me totally by surprise. A powerful stream of semen sprayed over us both. His lips fell away from my breast and he screamed out loud. Simon fell into my arms and we rolled over, his warm seed making our skins slide together as one. Within five minutes, both of us had fallen into a deep, trouble free sleep. I made breakfast the next morning, Simon definitely wasn't to be trusted with anything so complicated as cooking. I left him soaking in my bath water. He came down wearing my dressing gown, offering 'gifts' of clean diaper and plastic pants. wearily, I sighed. "You want to wear these?" I asked, using both hands to display each item under his nose. Simon nodded and stared at the kitchen tiles. "Well, I suppose you'd better. When you want to use the potty, you'll tell me, won't you?" He nodded again, still not able to meet my eyes. I pinched his chin and pulled it up. "Simon, I'm not joking now, you'll be punished," That familiar 'I need looking after look' haunted me. But I did try not to get too cross, the euphoria of last night was still closely surrounding me. I bade him lie on the cold floor and I crouched down and pulled open the dressing down. Simon was back to his old form. His penis had stretched itself to it's full height! Even at this late stage, I found it difficult to believe and comprehend that the wearing of a diaper could stimulate anyone so intensely as Simon. As I pinned the terry square up and pulled on the waterproof pants, I sadly realized that potty training Simon would be impossible. But I was going to have a bloody good try! That morning we were busy sorting through all my clothes. Remarkably, Simon fitted most of the garments that I was prepared to let him wear very well. The minor problem of the chest difference being overcome with the use of a Playtex bra, padded out with old tights. Eventually, I decided on a pleated shirt, white silk blouse and the same stockings and suspender belt that he'd worn last night. Making up his face was easy. Simon shaved about once a week, and then only bum fluff came away. After half an hour, I stood back and admired my handiwork. "You're a natural, Darling, you are beautiful!" Even Simon glowed with pride at my remarks, prancing around in front of the mirror. His hips just looked 'big' with the diaper underneath but that avoided the need for a corset to pull his waist in. All he needed now for perfection was a wig, but that wasn't necessary now. He would easily pass for a girl on the streets, and a very attractive one at that! It was then that I noticed the tale-tale stain on his skirt. I was furious! All this excitement had resulted in another 'lapse' in control and my good mood was totally devastated. With uncontrolled verbal abuse I soon had Simon stripped to his underwear. Convinced that he was going to get another beating, Simon started blubbering. Tears had no effect on me and it didn't take long to devise a punishment to suit the crime. Pushing the sobbing boy up the stairs in front of me, we marched into the bathroom. diaper and plastic pants were removed and I pushed the near hysterical, incontinent wimp firmly onto the baby's potty. I rummaged around in the medicine chest till I found a roll of Elastoplast which I used to secure his wrists behind his back, attach his ankles together and fasten his bottom firmly to the potty. As an afterthought, I dropped the wet diaper onto his stocking tops and taped it in place. "And there you'll stay until supper time, no lunch for you today. No visit to the shops to buy some nice shoes. If you behave like an infant, you must be expected to be treated like one!" As I closed the bathroom door, I realized that I was being a little hard on him. I had really expected this to happen, but he'd caught me by surprise, with my guard down. And we were getting on so well, what with the clothes and all. I longed for the day when Simon became a friend and a companion, and not just a baby, constantly aching for attention. Was I asking too much? My willpower let me down again that night. At One fifteen in the morning, I found myself heaving Simon out of his bed and into mine. half an hour later we collapsed into each other's arms again. Both of us totally sated and drained of passion. Our lovemaking had a more urgent edge to it this time, with the bed looking like a herd of cattle had trampled across it. I know now I'm sinking into an unbalanced, emotional relationship with Simon and there was nothing I could do about it. Never had any man effected me like this weak, effeminate boy before. I began to question my own sanity. Why did he have this effect on me? A week ago he could have packed his suitcase and walked out the door, and I wouldn't have blinked an eyelid. Now, the very thought of that happening made my chest ache. I really wanted to buy alot more time. Maybe grab a chance to put the pieces of my mind back together again. Saturday, the weekend half way mark. I woke feeling irritated and fretful. Fiona would be back Monday evening, which really only left me two days of Simon. I looked down at the innocent cherub face beneath me and my disposition warmed. I pulled back the covers and smiled at his early morning erection. Wickedly, I went down, relishing the musky taste as I rolled the bare glands around my mouth. My eyes closed with pleasure as I felt familiar fingers bury themselves deep within me... I sat Simon on the potty before we went out. His diaper had been wet but I didn't show any anger, not wanting to spoil yet another day. I found myself pacing up and down the hall waiting for him to perform, Simon showed reluctance at first to cooperate, but after I'd produced the roll of Elastoplast, he hastily obliged. "Good boy!" I beamed, wiping him clean. "We certainly don't want that in your knickers in Oxford Street, do we?" Simon smiled weakly in return. What a glorious feeling! Strolling around the West End with your very own 'girlfriend' I was very proud of him as we marched into every shop, arm in arm. No body even suspected that Simon, or Simone, as I was addressing him as, might have been anything else than an attractive female. In fact, I was slightly jealous when admiring glances were made in his direction, and not mine. We purchased a short, black wig, two pairs of shoes. an evening dress, another shirt and three blouses. Simon was delighted and gushed out kisses and 'Thank- you's' every time I handed over my Amex Card to a smiling shop girl. Daddy was going to have a fit when he gets this bill. Thank God he'll never find out what it's for! After a excellent Italian meal in Covent Garden, we retired to the Loo. Simon acted as if he'd spent most of his life in the Ladies! Peering into the mirror, he borrowed my mascara and attempted to repair some imaginary damage to his lashes! We retired to a cubicle where I changed his sodden 'Trainer' pants for a dry pair. Wisely, this time I'd used the leakproof rubber knickers that Fiona had used so successfully in the past. His newly purchased outfit remained clean and dry. It was a very happy day. Simon hung firmly onto my arm, totally at home in his new role. We spent most of the afternoon at The Tate where Simon surprised me with his healthy interest in Art. For almost two hours, we chatted and laughed together, enjoying each other's company. Wearily, at four, we slumped into a black cab and crawled through the traffic back to South Kensington. Simon made the tea while I put my feet up, feeling gloriously relaxed and happy. That evening, Simon came straight to my bed. I pretended to read a magazine as he pushed his way under the duvet and crawled up between my legs, pushing my thighs apart as he oiled his way in. Delicious! That magic tongue soon had all my senses reeling! The magazine fell from my paralysed fingers as I writhed in ecstasy and agony on the pillow! His tongue went everywhere, in places that I would never imagine a tongue would go! I don't think I'll ever learn who taught him to make love like this. If it was Fiona, he'd never tell me. When I tried to touch his penis, he pulled away, and would use his tongue and fingers on a different part of my body. His light, delicate hands melted any muscles he touched, leaving them warm and tingling. I had five or six orgasms before he yielded to my request and lay softly on my chest, a bosom filling half his mouth. I whispered 'mummy talk' into his ear and within five minutes the customary spray of semen coated us both. Prudently, I found the energy to wrap his loins in a diaper before turning the light off. The sleeping boy was oblivious as I touched his swollen bladder and fitted the napkin around his hips. Then as lovers, we held each other tightly during the night until the July Morning Sunshine brought us back to the real world. Sunday was fairly routine, I tried to follow a firm line as far as the potty training was concerned. There didn't appear to be much progress. It was pointless asking Simon if he wanted the potty. He always said no. What I ended up doing was forcing him onto it at certain times during the day. As the day wore on, I started getting more and more frustrated as each session on the potty produced nothing and every time a diaper was examined, it was wet. My bottle finally went at tea time when I smelt Simon with a full diaper and that was only fifteen minutes after the last time I had taken him off the potty!. Nothing was said, I stripped him until he was naked apart from the messy diaper and rubber pants, produced the Elastoplast and taped his wrists firmly to his ankles. I then made just enough room in the broom cupboard and forced him in. Before squeezing the door closed, I draped a heavy woollen blanket over his folded body, so he could use all his senses to wallow in his own filth. It appeared to be a battle of wills. Simon's and mine! Each one of us was waiting to see who would crack first, but I was damned if I'd give up. If he wanted to degrade himself, fine, but he wasn't going to inflict it on me. He would have to endure it himself. I wasn't finished yet, by any means. The stubborner he got, the harder I would get. Their were no depths I was not prepared to sink too to cure this problem. I think just before the blanket fell over him, I saw a flicker of defeat in his eyes which gave me courage to persevere. It wasn't with anger that I donned the Nurse's Uniform and Rubber apron that I had last worn on Thursday afternoon, Simon was about to realize that the apparition of a 'Nurse' meant corporal punishment, as he had painfully discovered on Thursday. After he had been interned for three hours I openedthe door, pulled the blanket off and yanked him out. he had been sweating profusely and was visibly crying. the blubs soon turned too wails when he saw how I was dressed. I pushed him upstairs and into the bathroom. "I want you in the bedroom in ten minutes. Make sure you are impeccably sterile and your diapers are rinsed out. Understand?" Simon shivered at my tone, holding out his hands. "Please... Susan.." He pleaded. "Get in there!" I shouted, shoving the wimpering creature in the chest. Simon eventually emerged from the bathroom after fifteen minutes. He tried a pathetic attempt at reconciliation which I abruptly halted by wrenching him across my lap. Simon screamed as the blows rained down on his bottom, his tears mainly due to fright, because each slap was far more controlled than my wild frenzy, three evenings before. When I had finished, I turned him over, cradling the over grown infant in my arms. I allowed Simon a minute or two so the emotion drained out of him and rocked him slowly in my arms. When he had recovered, he gulped down the sandwiches and milk that I'd prepared and I exiled him to his own room for a early night. I rang Daddy at nine, he was suitably concerned over Simon's 'illness'. I assured him I thought he would be fit by Thursday and he was very impressed that I had taken time to look after him. Simon was withdrawn this morning, still sulking over his chastisement yesterday afternoon. I toyed with the idea of leaving the diaper off today and decided it would just be too much bother. I had scored a minor victory when Simon performed well on the potty. Nice to know that he had no intention of going through his humiliation of yesterday. But, if you gave him an inch, he would take a mile. I knew as soon as the diapers came off, there would be 'accidents' on the furniture and carpets. The atmosphere in the flat would get very heavy; I really didn't need that hassle! Simon wanted to dress up that morning but as Sheila was due at nine, I left him in only his diapers and plastic pants. "But she's bound to see me, please let me wear some clothes," Simon whined at me. "Don't be silly, Sheila knows about your babyish habits, She would rather you used diapers than left stains all over the flat. Anyway, you'd better get used to her, she's going to be looking after you for a couple of days." The look on his face said it all, Simon was not very happy at all! "What! Where are you going?" "To work Silly," I replied, laughing at him. "Well let me go to work to, you can't keep me here!" His face pouted, like a small child's. "You've got a problem, if it takes three days or three weeks, you're staying at home till you come to your senses." "What do you mean?" He asked, looking hurt. "You know Simon, stop being a idiot. When you can take your diapers off and leave them off, life will be so much more pleasant for all of us." I turned away from his sulking face and arranged my hair in the bedroom mirror. I left him sitting quietly on the bed as I opened the door and greeted Sheila. "Good boy! you're dry." I left the clean rubbers around his ankles with the diaper on top and pulled Simon down onto the plastic rim of the potty. Sheila sat on a chair drinking coffee, smiling at the ashen faced boy as he struggled with his infantile task. "You're an Angel Sheila, thanks alot, but don't let him give you any trouble. I've left some lunch in the fridge." "Don't worry Susan, err.. how long does he stay on the err..Potty?" Sheila looked a little embarrassed. "Until he does something, then back into diapers. Don't take any nonsense, he might need a smack you know or put him straight to bed. I don't want him giving you any trouble?" I asked, worried I'd put too much on her shoulders. "Don't worry about us," Sheila smiled, rustling Simon's hair. "I sure we'll get on just fine, won't we Simon?" She pulled Simon's moody eyes into her's. Simon was too ashamed to reply, his eyes started watering over. "Save your tears Simon," I said sternly. "I'm not leaving until you've shown Sheila what a good boy you can be." Simon's eyes darted between us both. Within seconds, the tears were rolling down his cheeks. "Please leave, give me some pride.." he blubbed, hysteria bubbling in his tone. "Don't be silly Darling, we're both staying here until you've finished. Pride has never worried you in the past with me and Sheila was potty training children before you were born. We'll respect your 'pride' when you start growing up into a real adult, understand?" Five minutes later we were pinning a very sullen Simon into his diaper and I left Sheila clucking over her charge, like a mother hen. There was a phone message from Fiona waiting at the boutique. She would be home at five this evening. That went and brought me down to earth with a jolt. I had no intention of letting her influence Simon ever again. He was now mine and I would be deciding what course his life would now follow. I was dreading the confrontation but Fiona would not be staying under my roof tonight. The thought of losing my best friend caused many fretful recriminations during the day. I found my work suffering and had to let my harassed staff cope by themselves. At lunch I retired to a dark corner table in the local Indian and pushed a very ordinary curry around the plate. My mind was in turmoil and the constant worry was giving me a headache. One minute I was cursing Simon and the next it was Fiona. Life is too short, I screamed at myself. Bloody Simon, if only he'd never arrived. If only... I 'relieved' Sheila at 4.30. "Simon's been as good as gold, an absolute Angel," she beamed. I was immediately suspicious. "What do you mean good?" I asked, nervously looking at Simon who had his eyes closed, ear-phones wrapped around his head and was nodding away at a corner speaker. "I've had a dry boy all day long, I don't know what all the fuss is about." Sheila looked at her watch."I'm late, must rush." I saw her out, thanking her for her trouble. Fiona knew something was amiss as soon as the door closed behind her. "Hello everybody.." Fiona looked at my face. "What's wrong, what's happened? Is Simon all right?" She dropped her suitcase and rushed around the flat. "Where is he, what have you done with him?" Fiona's eyes blazed away at me after she had discovered his bedroom empty. "Calm down Fiona, he's gone out for a short while. Sit down, I'll explain" My strong tone surprised me. Fiona dropped into the sofa. "What do you mean, gone out...where?" "He's with Sheila, don't worry he's safe. Fiona, I don't want you to see Simon again." I paused, allowing the message to sink in. Fiona was speechless. "I'm sorry Fiona, but you can't stay here anymore." A heavy weight lifted off my shoulders. I felt light-headed and relieved. "But Simon, he's mine Susan, we love each other, Let me see him, I'll take him off your hands, if you want us out!" Fiona jumped up and ran into his room, running out almost immediately, clutching his potty. "What's this?" She waved it in my face. "I'm training him at the moment, I think by the end of the week he'll be dry." I replied. Fiona stared at me open eyed. "Your joking Susan, dreaming should I say. Simon is a baby." She started to get emotional. "Susan, please, please he's my baby. Let me have him." She collapsed into an armchair, burying her face in her hands and sobbing loudly. I fetched a large suitcase from the kitchen and placed it on the carpet in front of her. "These are all your things, I'll call you a cab." The silence was deafening while I phoned and I was dreading the short wait before the cab arrived. "Your my best friend Susan, why, why are you doing this?" she implored. "For Simon, it's time he grew up." I replied. "Don't you see, he want's to be a baby. He wants to be MY baby," she pleaded. "You don't really care about Simon, you..." Fiona stared at me. "Susan, tell me the real reason, does he share your bed?" Fiona didn't really want to hear my answer. I silently prayed for the cab driver to ring the doorbell. I walked over to the window and gazed out. This time it was my time for tears. "You'd better leave now Fiona, the taxi's coming soon." "You bitch, you BLOODY bitch!" I felt her eyes burning into the back of my head as she screamed at me. Seconds later, the door slammed shut, the noise ringing in my ears for many, many hours after that. 18 months later..... "I'm sorry Darling, the traffic was awful" Simone was looking beautiful, if not a little tired after all the tests. "That's all right. Better late than never." I kissed her. "The tests, are they finished now?" I asked anxiously. "Yes, and in 24 hours I'll be a real woman." Simone reached up and wrapped her arms around my neck. "Thank you Darling, none of this would have happened without your help." Tears clouded her eyes. "There, there. Stop that, you'll smudge your mascara." We kissed. "I love you so very, very much," she whispered, the tears springing out now. A Nurse came in and closed the curtains. "Oh, I'm sorry to disturb you.." We broke apart. She produced a thermometer, placed it under Simone's tongue and took her pulse. "Good, your ready for tomorrow." The Nurse smiled and pulled the covers back. "Tut tut Simone, Your soaking! But at least your not dirty." I watched her strip the diaper off Simone, finding it pleasant to watch for a change as she sponged his limp penis. "Horrid thing!" Simone said, giving the Nurse her 'impish' grin. She smiled back and reached for a towel. "I won't have to do this after tomorrow, well, wash down this 'thing' I mean." The Nurse pushed a clean disposable between her thighs. "Lift your bottom.... .... There! Really Susan.." The pretty girl gave me her best mock frown. "You really should try and get this baby girl potty trained." I looked at Simone and our eyes met. We both burst out laughing.