Safe and Sound

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Deleted member 43473

This is another story that I'm thinking about making a regular thing. Please give me any feedback. Thank you for reading.

Part 1

“It’s 9:15,” I say, shutting off the TV. “It’s time to get ready for bed.”
“Aww.” Alex whines, throwing himself back onto the couch. “Can’t I stay up a bit longer.”
“No,” I say firmly. “You have school tomorrow and remember that I have to help you get ready for bed too.” He sucks in a sharp breath and closes his eyes.
“You don’t need to remind me.” He says, looking at the floor. With a grunt, he pushes himself off the couch and walks off to his bedroom. I follow close behind him. Staring at his chestnut hair, I see how greasy his hair is.
“You need to take a shower,” I say, as we get into the room. “Your hair is dripping with grease and it stinks.”
“But I showered yesterday.” He groans, throwing his head back. “Besides, research has shown that washing your hair every day isn’t good. It strips off the natural oils that keep it healthy.” He adds, his mouth curled up in a smirk. That’s his favorite line: ‘Research says.’ Except, he only quotes the research when it goes with what he wants. I put my hands on my hips.
“It looks like you have more than enough oil on your hair to fry an egg with. “ I reply with a snort. “Get in the shower or I’m giving you a bath myself. It’s your choice.” He stares me down. I stare at him and hold up five fingers. Four fingers. Three fingers. Two fingers. One finger.
“Fine!” Alex yells. He rolls his eyes, groans, plucks his towel off of the chair, and then stomps his way into the bathroom. At the doorway, he stops and then turns.
“If I saved the hair oil, could we fry eggs for breakfast with it?” He asks, his eyes sparkling with a mischievous grin.
“Gross and not happening,” I say, pointing to the bathroom. “Get your butt in the shower.” His mouth turns down into a frown and he closes the door behind him. I stand outside the bathroom door until I hear the sound of running water. Sometimes he tries to be funny... and sneak out of the bathroom once he thinks that I'm gone.

As the door shuts, I go to his closet and take out a bundle of items. I take out a plastic pad, some cloth diapers, diaper pins, plastic pants, powder, and cream. As I unfold the changing pad, a slight crinkle fills the air. Then, I get to folding his diapers into the necessary shapes. My eyes wander around his room. From his bookcase overflowing with books to his six monitor desktop setup, the video game posters lining his walls, his dark brown dresser (that we didn’t get from a secondhand shop), his lego robots lined up neatly on another shelf and the soft, new comforters on his bed. None of the room screams luxury, but it’s a far cry from where we used to live. It’s a far cry from where we came from.

I know that most of you are thinking that he’s my son… and that I’m a young single mother. Well, I’m young. I’m 22, just graduated from college with a degree in computer science and an entry-level job as a software developer. The pay is good and the hours are flexible enough for me to pick up Alexander at 4:30 pm from school as I get to work from home some of the time. Though I’m not a mother… unless you define being a mother as raising a child. But Alex isn’t my son; he’s my little brother.

Our parents are best forgotten, and in that aspect, it’s good that he was too little to remember them. Even if he wanted to remember them, he can’t… they died in a car crash soon after he was born. I can’t say that I was sad that they died, I was happy to see them dead and them out of my life forever. But, my aunt and uncle who took me and my brother… I can’t call them good parents. Baby Alex’s cries would send my aunt into a rage, shouting at my brother to stop crying. He would only cry louder. The thunderous footsteps of my aunt would come and her hands would reach out to grab Alex. Cradling Alex to my chest, I would shield him from my aunt. There was always screaming…

“I’m done with my shower,” Alex says, walking out while drying his hair with one towel and wearing a loose white T-shirt. A towel hangs around his waist. He sets himself down on the plastic changing pad.
I snap back out of the memories.

“Good,” I reply, with a smile. “I can see that you’ve used soap this time.”
“What are you talking about?” Alex yells, the tips of his ears turning red. “I use soap all the time and you know that.” I shake my head. His forehead creases and his fists ball up at his sides.
“You can smell to check if you want.” His kicks his foot out. I jump back before he kicks my nose. He giggles at my reaction.
“Watch it, kid,” I reply, hands on my hips. “This is the person that’s handling the pins and by the way, you let go of the towel.” I point to the towel, laying in a wet heap on the floor. He covers himself with his hands and looks away from me.

“Well don’t start covering yourself up now,” I say with a sigh. “You know that I’ve seen everything already. I’ve been doing this since you were a baby.” He doesn’t look me in the eye, but he slowly takes his hands away. His whole body is flushed red and a tear slips down his cheek.

“Come on.” I wipe the tear from his cheek.“You know that I won’t make fun of you. No need to be ashamed. I was just teasing you a little.”
“I know.” He sighs. “It’s just that… aunt used to be so mean to me… and you about this.”
“Come here,” I say as I put my arms around his thin frame and he buries himself into me. Warm tears trickle down on my back. He makes very little sound… but his body heaves into mine. I run my fingers through his hair and rub his back in little circles. I know from experience that in times like these, he has to cry as he relives the memories. I stay with him. Eventually, he calms himself down. I untangle myself from him, using my left hand to wipe my eyes.
“Remember that you’re safe here,” I say, holding his hands tight. “I won’t let anyone hurt you. They have to beat me up first to get to you, and you know that that’s pretty hard to do” He nods and looks me in the eye. His eyes, almost emerald in color, are still misty but the usual sparkle is coming back. The corner of his mouth is the tiniest bit curled up.

“Now lay back and let me finish getting you ready for bed.” He nods and lays back on the changing pad. I slide the folded diapers under him. A small cloud of powder rises along with the slightly sweet odor. The bottle of cream makes a rude noise as I pour it into my hand, and that gets a small giggle from Alex. He flinches a little as I spread the cold cream, but it isn’t long before I’m done. I get the diapers pinned up around his waist, pull his plastic pants up over his diaper, and then hoist him to stand. He tucks in the stray bits of cloth and I stand back, making sure that all of it gets tucked in.
He climbs into bed and pulls the covers up around him.
“Goodnight. I love you.” I say, turning off the lights.
“Goodnight. I love you too” He repeats.
“Also, go to sleep. No getting out of bed and playing League, or else the computers are getting unplugged.” I add, with a smile. He gives a tired smile and nods back.

I close the door and sigh. I go around and turn off all the lights and then pad my way into my room. I feel the wetness in my diaper against my skin, and I decide it’s time for me to get washed up and changed.
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Deleted member 43473

Part 2
I open the door to my bedroom and spend a minute looking inside. It’s a simple room. A queen sized bed, with an armada of stuffed animals, neatly lined up against the pillows. Two nightstands flank my bed. My desk is pushed against another wall and has a similar monitor setup to Alex, except I only have two monitors and not six. After all, I only need two monitors to get my work done, not six. A mahogany dresser is pushed against another wall, the top of my dresser cluttered with makeup, hairpins, and other miscellaneous items.

Closing the door to my room, I stretch and pick up the old red T-shirt I sleep in, a pair of maroon sweatpants, and my towel from the back of my chair. Stepping into the bathroom, I peel the tapes off my soaked diaper and let it fall to the floor. My skin puckers as I undress fully, but it isn't for long. I step into the shower and feel the warm water cascade down my body. The fruity scent of my shampoo and body wash fill the steamy air and I feel all the tension drain from my body. Eventually, I turn the water off and I step out, reach for a fluffy pink towel, and dry myself off.
Stepping out of the bathroom, I make a stop at my dresser and pull out a familiar bundle of items: Cloth diapers, plastic pants, powder, cream, diaper pins, and a plastic changing mat. The only difference is that Alex’s plastic pants are clear, while mine are pastel colors and are printed with little toy trucks and cars or cute bunnies, fruits, and kittens

Setting the bundle down on my bed, I quickly fold the diapers into the necessary shapes. Then, I lift up as I slide the diapers under me. As I lower myself down, I marvel at the softness of the diaper. A cloud small cloud of powder rises up as I dust it on my skin and a smile graces my face as I smell the scent of baby powder. I flinch as the cold cream touches my skin, but it warms up as I spread it. Finally, I pin the diapers around my waist, pull up the plastic pants, and then tuck any stray bits of cloth into my plastic pants.

As I stand up, I see the reflection of myself in the mirror. The image of a tall, slender young woman is sharply juxtaposed against the babyish ensemble of diapers and colorful plastic pants. I look away from the mirror, my cheeks flushed. Before I step into bed, I take out one final thing from my nightstand: a pacifier, large enough for an adult, with a purple shield. I feel the silicon nipple fill my mouth as I drift off to sleep. It’s weird that I’m incontinent in the first place…. How could a 22-year-old woman with a steady job be sucking on a pacifier, wearing baby pants, and enjoying it?

The sharp notes of my alarm hit my ears and with eyes still closed, I fumble around for my phone. Finding the phone, I shut the alarm off. Blessed silence fills the room as I open my eyes. The dim lights of the streetlights filter in through the blinds. Getting up, I feel the droop in my sweatpants. A sigh escapes me, but I climb out of bed. It’s been this way since I was a baby… It’s just another morning.

Stumbling into the bathroom, I flick on the lights. I pull out the pacifier from my mouth and rinse it in the sink. After pulling the plastic pants down my legs, I fling them into the shower stall. the sodden diapers in the shower stall and they hit the tile with a splat as I release the pins. As the water runs, I quickly scrub the urine off my skin and rinse my plastic pants and diapers. The sharp smell of ammonia mixes with the distinctive smell of wet powder and cream fills the air, but I hardly notice it. Within five minutes, I’m out of the shower, the plastic pants are hanging on the shower booth drying, and the diapers are in the pail. I grab the pacifier and after a swipe of my towel, I put the pacifier it back in my nightstand drawer.

Opening a dresser drawer, I fish out a frilly white pullup. Pulling it up, the floral scent of these releases into the air. I throw on a hoodie and a pair of black sweatpants that has the (ironic) brand name Pink. Walking around, I collect my blue swim cap, towel, black one piece, clear goggles, and one spare pull up. I open the door slowly so that one hinge doesn’t squeal. No sound but the slight ticking of the stove clock surrounds me. Through the crack in Alex’s door, I see him tangled up inside his blankets. It’s only now that he’s completely peaceful, not cracking cheeky jokes, not reliving memories of our past, or making a mess out of making and programming his robots. I wish I could stand here forever, but I have to get to swimming.

It’s a bit ironic that a girl who’s almost completely bladder incontinent loves the water so much, but I do. I like everything about the pool: The sharp sting of the chlorine, the feeling of weightlessness as I glide through the water, listening to the splash of my arms and legs as I swim, and just being able to feel free from my past or my future. The gym that I’m a member of has a large indoor swimming pool, and early in the mornings, the only people that are there are the few people that want to get a workout before work and leave. So, I get to skip the locker room embarrassment and unwanted chit chat and… get there when the showers are free from soap debris and other detritus.

Opening the door, a strong odor greets me. This isn’t a daily thing, but I get the idea of what kind of morning this is. Alex sits at the dining table, spooning cereal into his mouth. I close the door, drop the bag in the foyer, and stand beside him. His eyes don’t move from his cereal bowl.

“Hey,” I say, disarmingly. “You’re up early.” He mumbles something in response and continues eating his cereal. Looking down at his discolored plastic pants, my suspicions are confirmed.

“You just finish your cereal and then I’ll get you cleaned up,” I say.

“Could I get cleaned up now?” He asks, shifting in his chair.

“Well then go to your room and wait for me on the changing pad,” I reply, heading back to the foyer.

“Come on.” Alex moans, “Can’t you get your bag later?”

“It’ll be like two seconds.” I call back, “You’ve waited for this long, so you can wait another two seconds.” I hear his footsteps go up the stairs.

“I’d like to see you try sitting in poop.” He mumbles.

“I heard that!” I yell.

“I meant for you to hear that!” He calls from up the stairs. I shake my head and head up to my room.

Padding up to my room, I throw my swimming bag into the bathroom and head into Alex’s room. He’s sprawled out on the changing pad and I grab a tub of wipes from off his dresser. I manage to pull off his plastic pants without getting the mess on his legs, unpin his diapers, and start the cleaning process. He stares up at the ceiling during the whole process, his cheeks red. With a tap on his leg, I signal that I’m done with cleaning him up and I leave the room to deal with his diapers and plastic pants. I come back as he’s pulling up his Goodnites. A wet towel hangs from his chair.

He whips around and pulls the towel in front of him.

“Haven’t you heard of knocking?” He says, his cheeks still red. He avoids my gaze.

“Fine,” I reply, knocking the door, “I was just here to make sure you were alright.”

“I’m fine,” He replies, still looking at the floor, “You can just go now.”

“Doesn’t look like it,” I sit down on the edge of his bed. “What’s on your mind?”

“Just…” He takes a deep breath and then continues, “Thanks for not yelling at me… or hitting me.”

“I told you once and I’ll tell you again,” I reply, turning around. “Yelling just isn’t my style… and neither is hitting. Unless someone tries to mess with me or you.” I throw a couple of punches and a roundhouse kick. He smiles ever so slightly.

“Besides, why would I punish you for something that you can’t control. It’s completely illogical.” I add, he nods and then a familiar sparkle lights up his eyes.

“And by the way,” Alex comments, pointing at my sweatpants, “It looks like you need a change.”

The pull up has sagged far between my legs, and only now do I notice the wetness against my skin. My cheeks color and I whip around and scurry to the bathroom.

“I can still see it sagging!” Alex calls.

“You go finish your breakfast!” I call back, “I’m not going to have your three pieces of soggy cereal floating in a sea of milk for breakfast.”

Alex yells something back in response, but the sound of my door closing cuts him off. Knowing him, it’s probably some snarky response. He always has to get the last word. As I pull the sides, they come apart and I see the damage done. A sigh escapes me… I’m just lucky that this thing didn’t leak. Of course, making sure leaks don’t happen in a pull up isn’t easy… I don’t get any sign of needing to go and I sometimes don’t even know that I’m peeing until I feel the wetness in my diaper. Back in the shower…

I pick up and throw away the accident waiting to happen (pull up) off the floor, and get back to my dresser. I pull out my regular diapers. The blue stripes and yellow wetness indicator stands as a stark contrast to the white plastic. I begin the changing process with powder and cream, albeit less of it; I don’t want to walk around smelling like a nursery. Opening the diaper up, the plastic crinkles and the cotton feels soft against my skin as I tape it on. The thickness of it forces my legs apart slightly. A blue pair of men’s boxer briefs finishes the process. The crinkling noises are instantly muffled by the underwear, making the diaper much more discreet. The black sweatpants make everything disappear, though, I’m not fooling Alex.

“Finished my breakfast,” Alex calls, holding up his empty bowl as I walk into the dining room.

“Good.” I reply, with a smirk “Now I get to have my breakfast of waffles, eggs, bacon, and sausage.”

“You liar,” Alex retorts, “Everyone knows that you just have old people food like Cheerios or oatmeal in the morning.”

“Well, I’m old.” I reply, pouring Cheerios and soy milk in my bowl, “So I eat old people food.” Alex squints at a spot on the table as I eat my cereal.

“So what are we going to do for the long weekend?” Alex asks, breaking the silence. “Are we going ice skating? Laser tag? The pool?” His eyes sparkle more with each possibility.

“Well, you have to get your yearly tests with Dr. S on one of the days-”

Alex puts his head down on the table.
“Ugh… I hate the tests.” Alex moans, “They’re stupid and embarrassing. And every single year, the results are the same. Plus I don’t want the stupid surgery.”

“Even if you don’t want the surgery, you still need to do the tests.” I reply, “We need to make sure that everything is as healthy as it can be.” Alex slumps in his chair and groans.

“It’s pointless.” Alex repeats, “I’m healthy and you know that, so why can’t we just stop it there?”

“When you’re programming your robots, you still test the code right?” He nods at my comment, “Even if you think that nothing is wrong, you still check it to make sure. It’s the same thing.”

Alex sits in stony silence.
“I’ll make lasagna,” I say.

“You can’t buy me with food,” Alex folds his arms, “I’m not two years old anymore.”

“I guess that you don’t want lasagna,” I reply, leaning back into the chair. “Or Apple pie with a nice scoop of vanilla ice cream on top.” Alex folds his arms over his chest.

“Not happening,” Alex says, the words forced through gritted teeth.

“Then I guess that it means that the ski trip that I was planning for next weekend is going out-“

“You were planning a ski trip?” Alex interrupts. “Since when?”

“Well, we can’t go anyways unless you get checked out,” I reply, pretending to be fixated on the back of my hand. “And I guess that it’s not too late to forfeit the raffle prize-”

“Alright!” Alex yells, waving his arms in the air. “I’ll do the stupid tests, but only if we get to go to the ski trip, and you make my lasagna and let me have three scoops of ice cream on my apple pie.

“One and a half scoops.” I reply, “My final offer or else you won’t get ice cream at all.”

“Fine.” He groans, and turns to go back to his room. “Could I have two scoops?”

“No.” I call back, “At this rate, I’m going to eat all the ice cream and you’ll have none of it."

“You wouldn’t,” He replies with a laugh, “You're lactose intolerant and you would be the one sitting in poop. Remember that one time-”

"Go upstairs and pack your things," I interrupt, "I'm not running over to school to bring your homework or goodnites again."

He laughs and I hear his footsteps going up the stairs again. He is something else entirely, but a smile still crosses my face. Looking at the clock, I realize I have a lunch to pack and a kid to drop off to school.


Diaper Lover
I love this story very much my only question is why wears Alex at night cloth diapers instead of disposable diapers because he wears goodnight as day wear


Est. Contributor
Adult Baby, Little, Incontinent
I love this story very much my only question is why wears Alex at night cloth diapers instead of disposable diapers because he wears goodnight as day wear
Because cloth while out and about takes out and about, takes enough finesse, that one who does cloth while in public, has to have cloth as an ethos, for whatever reason, or it's not going to be feasible. For a lot of cloth people, it's cloth at home, sposies in public.

Also could be, cloth is just an amazing workhorse at night. Cloth is like clay. You can make it do exactly what you need it to do. It's like Build A Diaper Workshop, amazing, amazing stuff!