Unknownwriter

Boy Doll

Chapter One
An Unusual Idea

It was a warm summer's day, back in the 1970s when I made plans to finally do something about my jealousy of my little cousin's doll. It wasn't that I wanted a doll of my own, as I was after all a thirteen year old boy, and dolls were for little girls like Vicky, but rather I wanted to actually be the doll. Well, not actually to be a doll, but to be treated like the doll, and dress like the doll and 3; well you'll see as my plan unfolds.

I'd been staying with my cousins for a fortnight while my own parents went away, and the first week of that was pretty uneventful, at least on the surface. Underneath though, my mind was a whirl with all these new and weird ideas, that I couldn't really express but just knew I had to do something about. I just didn't know what. Until the following weekend, anyway.

It was all about Vicky's doll. Well not at the start it wasn't, but that's how things went, once I saw the way it got treated and realised that was just how I wanted to be treated.

Vicky took that doll everywhere with her, and I mean everywhere which I guess isn't that unusual for a six year old girl. Never once being parted at any time during the day although at night it slept in it's own room, or night which is a touch odd. Mind you the oddest thing was the doll itself which wasn't in anyway, anything you could call normal.

You see the doll was big or rather enormous. I mean, it was massive. So massive that Vicky couldn't carry it around, or cuddle it like most girls her age would. In fact she couldn't even pick it up as it was considerably bigger than she was, yet that didn't stop her from treating it as if it were her child. Most of the time anyway. What she did with it the rest of the time was just plain weird, but we'll get to that.

Oh and the doll wasn't just big. It was ugly too. The ugliest thing I'd ever seen. These days doll makers go out of their way to make their products appear as life like as possible. But whoever had made Vicky's doll clearly hadn't bothered with any of that. It looked like a cross between a burns victim and some muntant freak from a 1950s B-movie horror flick. I mean, it didn't even have any hands, just stumps. Fact is the first time I seen it, a few years earlier, it had actually scared me not that I was every going to admit that, any more than I'd admit how by the time I hit the teenage years I often imagined myself as the doll during my cousins' games.

Officially, I was there to spend time with Vicky's brother Oliver. He had just turned eleven that summer and his parents were worried that he spent too much time with his sister – which he did – and that he was going to get slaughtered – which he would – when he went to Grammar school, that coming September. So I was drafted in to teach him what my dad had referred to as 'boy stuff' and to stop him being quite so naive. Yet it was that very naivety that I would be putting to such great use in my plan where Oliver would be doing all the things I'd discovered I couldn't do for myself now that Shaun Malone was out of my life. It being my plan that Oliver would just see what we were going to be doing as just another spin on the games he already played with his little sister and her exsisting doll.

Back then there was no internet of course, no smart phones, no video games and not much of anything really. There wasn't even TV during parts of the day, so kids were left to do pretty much what they wanted, without any interference from adults. This was especially true if they lived in a what, at the time was called a 'comfortable' house and were basically good kids. Then as you will soon find out, you could get away with some really outrageous behaviour even in front of adults, other kids, or when walking around the streets.

Anyway, like I said, my plan started on a warm summers day where, as usual we kids were banished to the garden to get some fresh air. Had I still been Oliver's age, back at home with my mates, this would have lead to game along the lines of 'War', where one side would have attacked the other, looking to take prisoners, although these days it would more likely have been some sort of kick around, as at thirteen we were deemed 'too old' for games like 'war'.

However, for Oliver and Vicky it meant playing with the doll, with Vicky pretending to be it's mother and Oliver taking the father's role. This he seemed to enjoy, although when I was around, he pretended not to, which at first I'd found surprising, if not shocking, but now was going to put to good use. Just as soon as got that ugly old doll out of the way by breaking it.

I know that sounds a terrible thing for a boy to do, break a little girl's favourite doll, but I couldn't think of another way to get rid of that darn thing. True I could have tried to hide it, but as she never lets it out of her sight during the day so just getting hold of it would be a challenge, and then there was the issue of just where do you hide a four and a half feet tall thing with the face that could turn milk sour (that's what my mum said by the way!)? So there was no option but to break it. So that's what I did.

It had to look like an accident, and at the same time had to be something that could be eventually fixed – see I wasn't a monster – which is why I came up with the idea of breaking it's neck. Well not so much as breaking it, but removing it. I'd spotted the screws that held the head onto the body a few days before when I'd been investigating how to remove the doll's harness so I could wear it. The doll's head was much too large for the body, adding to the freaky appearance of the thing, and the reason it was always falling over, but it was only held on by a metal collar around the top of ball that allowed it to spin – it span all the way around which even in those days before I'd seen "The Exorcist" was still freaky – and, as I was about to prove, would totally release it.

The smallest screwdriver from my Uncle Mike's tool kit – he had loads of tools and was always making or fixing stuff – fitted almost perfectly into my hand, making it almost invisible as I loosened the screws at the base of the doll's neck. I didn't want to remove the screws completely though, as I didn't want them to fall right out, so that, when the 'accident' was finally bought to my Uncle's attention he'd be able to see what had gone wrong easily, and fix it, but I did need the head to come right off in as a dramatic was as possible, which is why I volunteered to put the bib on the doll.

It was another freaky thing about the doll that Vicky insisted on treating it like a baby, even though it was larger than she was. I mean she had everything for it that you would have had back then for a real baby. Stuff like nappies, a playpen, a highchair, a crib and even a pushchair, all of which was large enough to take the doll, and indeed as I already knew, anyone who happened to be the same size, even if they were a thirteen year old boy.

The furniture was mostly made by my Uncle Mike who was good at that sort of thing, and I found it all most fascinating, although I didn't really understand why at that time, but then I didn't understand why Oliver spent so much time with his sister, even being bossed about by her at times, and going along with everything she suggested.

Anyway, it was under the cover of putting the bib around the doll's neck that I managed to made the final adjustments to the neck screws. The bib itself wasn't a cloth one but one of those big solid plastic things that were around back then, with a big scoop in the front to catch the food and a sort of clicking ratchet way to fasten them behind the wearer's neck. This could sometimes be tricky to do, although not as tricky as I made out that time.

So it was that I ended up holding the doll's head in my hands as it rolled backwards.

What happened next was very, very, VERY loud, as Vicky gave full vent to her six year old lungs, in a way that would have put an opera singer to shame while Oliver went into full on panic mode like only a good boy could.

"Oh no, no, no, what are we going to do," he repeated, his high pitched voice just about audible over the noise his sister was making. "That was her favourite toy. It's the only thing she ever plays with. What are we going to do?"

"Maybe we could replace it," I suggested, cautiously.

Both siblings turned to look at me like I was stupid, but only Oliver was capable of speaking as Vicky was still trying to shatter the glasses on the table in front of us with her voice, "You don't understand Jason, that wasn't her favourite toy, it was her only toy. There's nothing else. She's going to mental until it's fixed, if it can be fixed."

He started to walk towards where the doll was sitting in it's pushchair, which I had to stop him doing, as he might not have been the most manly of eleven year olds, but even he might be able to see where the head had come unscrewed. "There is a way we can replace it!" I suggested stepping in front of him.

"With what?" he snapped at me, showing more gumption that I'd ever seen before. "There's no another doll like that anywhere, Mum's looked."

It was true. The doll was a true one of a kind, and the way it had been discovered in the back of a junk shop was legendary, or quite possibly notorious, in our family, but that of course wasn't what I meant. At least not the way Oliver was thinking anyway.

"I don't mean replace it with another doll," I explained slowly, aware Vicky's volume was at last decreasing to the level of Concord taking off, "I mean we could replace it. Ourselves."

There was a small pause before the penny dropped inside Oliver's head. "No, No way. There's no way I'm going to be Vicky's doll."

Years later I'd find it fascinating that Oliver automatically assumed that he'd be the one to be the doll, but back then, it just gave me the perfect chance to save the day by volunteering to do it myself.

Oliver's face dropped, grinned, then went all puzzled, "You'd do that? Why?"

"Well, Vicky was playing so nicely with her doll, but now it's broken she's got nothing to play with, and that doesn't seem fair, does it."

"No, guess not," he conceded clearly relieved.

"And anyway," I continued, "You already have a part to play in the game, as the dad, while I haven't."

"But you can't be a doll. The doll's girl and you're a boy?"

Weird that was his only objection, but still, especially as the doll wasn't really either gender, and even Vicky herself sometimes referred to it as both 'him' and 'her' often in the same sentence, as I was quick to point out.

"Yeah, but it's a baby and you're a teenager."

This point was a bit more tricky to argue around, as it was after all correct, even if I had only been a teenager for a month or so, but there was one point I could make, and that was the issue of size. The doll and I were almost exactly the same size and we could, as I already knew, wear the same clothes.

"My doll's a baby," Vicky piped up, almost as if I'd cued her even leaning over to point at the whiteness that surrounded the now headless doll's lap. "And wears nappies like a baby.

"You'd have to do that too, if you are going to be her doll, you know that don't you?" Confirmed Oliver, as if I hadn't already sort of suggested it in the first place.

"Yeah, I know," I sighed, in what was probably much to a theatrical way, "But if that's what it takes to keep Vicky happy then I guess I'm going to have to do it."

He gave me what can only be described as a funny look, as he asked, "Are you sure?"

"Sure," I shrugged, "But you'll have to sort some stuff out for me to wear, as I don't know where any of it is."

That was probably the biggest lie I'd told all day, if not of the entire stay as I knew very well where all the doll's clothes and equipment was kept, I just couldn't admit it, without giving way my nocturnal activities, not to mention the true reason the doll was now headless.

"Tell you what," I continued, "While you do that, why don't I take the doll to your dad's workshop so he can fix it later, then when you come back to watch Vicky, I'll go and get changed."

Just as I knew he would, Oliver agreed to my plan and that's what happened.

Oliver's face was a picture when I returned to the garden a short time later although Vicky took my transformation totally in her stride.

I'd left the single set of clothes I'd been wearing all week – it's what 'real' boys did back then – upstairs in the bedroom I'd been using. The jeans with their slight bell bottoms, the battered tennis shoes, plain grey socks, T-shirt with some witty slogan on that I can't recall anymore, and even my nylon briefs, were now all chucked in a pile on the chair beside the camp bed set up in the corner of the room. Now I was wearing something totally different. A nappy.

That's right I was actually wearing a nappy and not just a nappy either, but plastic pants as well. It wasn't even for the first time either. Obviously I'd worn one when I was a baby, but this wasn't the first time I'd worn one since then, or even the first time I'd worn one during that fornight either, but that wasn't to say I was all together comfortable in it.

Even now I can remember the blush that crept up my face, when I first stepped out of the bedroom, heading towards the stairs, and then out into the garden, where the bright sunlight momentarily blinded me, whilst at the same time, reminding me just how little I was wearing.

Boys back then weren't anywhere near as modest as they appear to be now, so being shirtless and having most of my legs exposed was really nothing new for me, as that's how I spent most of the summer, but wearing a nappy was really quite different from wearing a pair of shorts, regardless of just how short those shorts were in those days.

It was the noise more than anything else that was the hardest thing to get used to. With every step I took the plastic pants, which were a lot thicker than they would be these days, with thick, tight elastic around the waist and leg openings, would either crinkle of crackle. or sometimes do both. This acting as a constant reminder of just what I was wearing, as if I needed one what with the thickness I now had between my legs, that made me just that little bit bowlegged like a cowboy who'd spent too long on his horse.

Of course the entire thing, should have been a source of deep humiliation and or embarrassment to me,but it wasn't. It was fun. Real 'big' fun, if you get what I mean. Thankfully that's just how Oliver saw it too.

"What do you look like Jason?" he giggled, like he was a little kid, while Vicky just looked a bit confused, but then she never had that long of an attention span in the first place.

"I'm your replacement doll," I told her, bending down so I could look her in the face even though this made my well padded bum, stick out even more.

For a moment it looked like Vicky was going to go back into meltdown, reminded of what had happened to her toy, but then she looked me over, and asked the sort of question only a little kid would, "Can you do everything my other dolly did?"

This confused me a bit as the doll hadn't actually done anything but look ugly and scare small animals, but the answer was obviously that I would although when I said it out loud I made sure to include her brother in my promise as well. "I'll do anything either you or Oliver want, and if I don't then you can punish me."

"Punish you? How?"

It was Oliver who asked the question, rather than Vicky, but I was ready for him.

"You can punish me like you would the doll."

He looked a bit uneasy with that option, raising another objection.

"We can't do that. You're bigger and older than us."

"So was the other doll," I joked. It didn't work.

"But you can beat us up."

I wasn't entirely sure where that idea had come from, as although it was true, I could have beaten him up – with one arm tied behind my back if not both! – I'd never done anything to hurt him as he was, after all family, but it did give me the opportunity to bring another dimension to the game.

I had everything that would be needed I had prepared – thankfully Oliver never wonder why that might have been – in a bag in Uncle Mike's shed, including the items that I'd only been able to add, when I'd left the original doll in there. This bag I soon collected, so all I had to do to get started was to reach into it and bring out roll of brown wide parcel tape that I'd found in the shed.

Oliver asked what this was for as I hadn't actually mentioned in my original description, but the answer was simple and logical. Well it was at the time. The doll had no hands so therefore I shouldn't have hands either. At least not hands that I could use.

It worked like this. I held out each of my hands in turn, in a sort of loose fist with the thumb on the outside, them Oliver wrapped them in the tape until they were turned from five very useful digits into one completely useless lump.

"Okay now the mittens," I said, which didn't give rise to any questions as these are what the doll wore to hide its stumps and they'd be doing the same thing for me too.

They were, ordinary fingerless mittens, you know like gloves but without fingers and thumbs, made out of some sort of fake leather looking stuff, that could be pulled onto the doll's stumpy arms, where they'd be tied in place by a couple of laces. However, the laces had proved not to be enough to hold the mittens in place so Aunt Kate had added a second fastening in a small strap that once buckled prevent the mittens from slipping off and exposing the ugly stumps.

So this was how it worked on my too. The mittens went on my already stump-like hands, and the laces were done up in a similar way to those on a boxer's glove. Then the buckle was added over the top and pulled tight with the end tucked in out of the way, so that by the time it was all done my hands were totally useless, which is just how I wanted to be.

"Tell you what, why don't you get your camera and take a photo of me, then hide it, so that you've got proof of what happens and that it was all my idea."

It was the exact get out clause that Oliver was looking for, plus it gave him the chance to use the Polaroid Land Camera that he'd been raving about since I'd arrived. This could produce instant photos – very much still a novelty back then – that didn't need to be sent away to be processed. It had been a gift for his eleventh birthday, as he loved technical stuff like that in a way that would have him today labeled as a nerd or geek, but just made him stand out even more back then.

A few minutes later Oliver was back with the folded up camera, that he was soon popping open, and directing me into which part of the garden had the best light for the taking of a photo in my new get up, which he soon did. Ending up with him standing beside me waving both hands in the air to help dry the two shots he'd taken, and in which I looked even more babyish than I'd imagined I would.

"What would your mates say if they saw you like that?" asked Oliver when the photos were developed. It was a question I'd wondered myself, as I looked upon myself, with my well tanned, arms and legs, standing in great contrast to the brilliant whiteness of the nappy and plastic pants puffing around my loins. They'd laugh of course, just assuming it was some sort of prank I had pulled, which it was. Sort off. There would be no long drawn out bullying though as they were, after all, my mates, and mates don't do that sort of thing. At least I hoped so anyway.

When Oliver had set off to hide the photos as 'insurance' I turned to Vicky in order to get things started in the way I hoped they would go for the rest of my time as a doll.

"So, what do you want me to do first as your new doll?" I asked her, making sure to glance at the thing sitting on the table in front of pushchair where the previous doll had been sitting with enough obviousness that Vicky would catch on. Which she did.

"I want you to have your dummy," she said, pointing with a chubby little fingers at the oversized pacifier her parents had managed to find for the doll as regular baby sized ones were way too small for it, and just kept falling out of it's mouth.

"Okay then," I said picking it up, and giving it a rub on a tea towel that we used to mop up spills whenever there was food around, "If that's what you want then that's what I'm going to do."

With that I popped the bulb of the dummy into my mouth.

It was the weirdest of weird sensations as unlike the nappies I hadn't actually sucked on a dummy since I'd been a real toddler. The bulb was made of surprisingly solid rubber, that was bigger and rounder at the end before narrowing down straight, towards the point where it joined onto the mouth plate. The plate itself was light blue, with a big ring in the front, and big enough to cover all of my lips and a fair bit of my face as well. That was one thing I had to get used to, having my mouth covered, while the other was having something big in my mouth, almost but not quite filling it, but making it nearly impossible to speak, whilst still being able to breath, fairly easily.

"Oh boy!" Oliver was back, as was the surprised look on his face, when he saw me standing there with a dummy in my mouth. "You really are doing this aren't you?"

I started to say something, until I realised I couldn't, at least not if I wanted to be understood, so instead just nodded.

"Oh right, anyway, mum says she's got some food ready so shall I go and get it?"

It was a stupid question for two reasons. The first being why didn't he bring it out with him in the first place and the second was that, at thirteen I was always hungry, which is why I did something that didn't really fit with the role I'd taken so much trouble to set myself up in, and waved him back to the kitchen.

Oliver shook me a dirty look, as getting the food was normally my job as the oldest, but he did it anyway, returning a few minutes later very carefully carrying a large tray upon which had been piled a plate of thickly spread jam sandwiches, several slices of the crumbly dark brown chocolate cake that my Aunt made by the shed full, and to accompany all those calories, three cans of coke, and best of all a large baby bottle filled with milk.

"Mum says you asked for all of this," my cousin said, setting the tray down on the table and starting to separate out all the contents so that there was something in front of each of us. Which was all well a good of him, but he just didn't do it the way I wanted. Forcing me to move around the table from my usual position to one next to Vicky.

Carefully I lowered myself down into the doll's pushchair, which thankfully was an old and very sturdy model made from metal tubes with a canvas seat, that probably could have taken the weight of a full grown elephant, so was able to handle a thirteen year old boy with ease. This naturally put me in front of the food intended for the doll, who only eat in one way.

"What? You want Vicky to feed you?" Oliver gasped, the surprised face, going into over drive.

For what I hoped would be the last time, but fearing it wouldn't be, I pulled the dummy from my mouth, to answer him with my prime time logic. "She feeds the doll so she feeds me. Or do you want to do it?"

"No!" he held up his hands, although I'd seen him feed the doll on more than one occasion before, even when Vicky wasn't there. Still, he did have to do something as there was one thing that Vicky couldn't do, although when she asked him she made us all laugh by asking him to be careful not to knock my head off.

It was the bib that Oliver put around my neck of course. The big plastic bib, that felt so cold on my naked chest, and stiff around my neck as the ratchet was pulled snug, ready for me to be fed, by a little girl.

Vicky forgot about the dummy as she picked up the nearest jam sandwich, that was soon coming towards my mouth, giving me only the briefest of chances to spit the dummy out before, the entire sandwich was rammed into my mouth.

Obviously, Vicky had never fed a real person before or else she'd have realised that they can't actually chew that fast, let alone swallow. With the doll the food just fell through the hole in its mouth into a bag inside the body that had to be changed when it was full – not a pleasant job I can tell you – but with me things were rather different of course. Being a boy I could eat fairly fast, just not that fast so I gagged a little on the first sandwich, and was so not ready for the second one that followed it.

Thankfully, Oliver, went into his role as the 'dad', and suggested that Vicky slow down her force feeding a bit, which even more thankfully she did, giving me a chance to swallow the sandwiches, although by that time the little girl had decided that it was time for pudding.

The cake didn't go any better than the sandwiches had. Worse probably as the crumbling nature of the sponge meant that it pretty much disintegrated upon contact with my face, sending a tidal wave of debris down to be caught by the bib. However, that only applied to the upper and lower parts of the cake. The filling, my Aunt's own recipe chocolate spread, went all over my face, even sticking to the jam that was already there, turning me into a total mess.

"What a messy eater," laughed Oliver, for the first time since I'd got dressed up, "Good job I put that bib on you, or you'd be a right mess."

"All babies are messy," Vicky offered, which I guess was true, certainly if she fed them. Still there was one more part of the meal to go. The bottle.

Vicky had no better with the bottle than she had been with the sandwiches and it was only by me moving my head that the rubber teat managed to end up in my mouth, but even so, I still had the end of the bottle jabbing me in the chin, causing me to make a grab for it, which in turn caused Vicky to chastise me for the first time.

"No, baby take bottle or baby get a spanking."

It was an absorb threat coming from such a tiny girl, yet all the same it made me drop the hand that had been heading for the bottle, and at the same time, caused, Oliver to utter a single laugh, as he stood by watching the scene most intently.

After the dummy the bottle's teat felt somewhat small in my mouth, so that wasn't an issue for me, and nor for that matter was drinking the warm milk that came out of it, as that's what we'd always had to drink at Junior school in those years before Mrs. Thatcher removed it to save money. No what did surprise me was just how hard it was to get the milk out of the bottle. I'd just assumed that it would come out on it's own, like from a tap, or at least a leaky pipe, but it didn't. Well it did if Vicky squeezed the bottle too hard, but otherwise I had to actually suck at the teat in order to get anything to come out which was well weird. It was something like sucking drink up through a straw, only you weren't sucking it up but down, or at least across, as Vicky continued to hold the bottle up to my face though the entire time I was drinking, although by the end she was getting a little bored and letting it drop slightly.

"It's time for Vicky's nap," announced Oliver, although he waited until I'd drained the bottle before saying anything, which I should have found suspicious, but I didn't have time to do that, as Vicky started to raise the volume once more.

"But I want to play with my new doll," she stated, stamping her foot, with such force that her entire body rocked, although there was no sound as the grass was soft under our feet.

Instantly Oliver went into Big Brother mode, "Come on you know you'll get cranky if you don't have your nap, and your doll will be here when you get back, I think."

I nodded that I would be, but it wasn't enough for the little girl.

"How do I know you won't play with it."

Oliver actually blushed when she said it, "What? I don't play with your doll," he protested a little too loudly to be convincing.

The teenager in me would have loved to have found out more about that, but given the way the conversation was playing directly in the direction I wanted it to, I couldn't take the chance of derailing it, so instead of teasing one cousin, I offered the other one a solution.

"How about if we fix it so your new doll can't go anywhere?" I offered.

That got both their attentions, and would get me exactly what I wanted. The feeling of being a helpless doll restrained within a play pen.

The play pen was no ordinary play pen, given that the doll was no ordinary doll. Yes that's right the play pen had been built for the doll to sit in which I know doesn't make any sense, but it's what Vicky wanted so it's what Vicky got.

Like everything else he did my Uncle Mike, had made the play pen to last so this wasn't one of those fold up things that you could get from the local toy store, no this was something a lot more substantial than that, and it was going to have to be, given what I'd got in mind for it.

Basically Uncle Mike had made the play pen from an old wooden pallet, that formed the raised base. This had then been coved in an thin old mattress wrapped in plastic, decorated with colourful nursery character transfers to make it appear babyish. Nailed around the outside of this square base ran a framework of vertical white painted bars around three feet high, topped with another rail that looks suspiciously like a banister. One side was hinged to work as a gate, with not surprisingly a gate latch on the outside to hold it closed. THe entire thing was set up on a small patio that had once held a small fountain that had long since been removed, after it had frozen over one winter and cracked.

"You're going to go in there?" Oliver had wondered when I'd first suggested it, coming up with the obvious fact that even inside I could easily let myself out again, just by reaching over the top of the upper rail and releasing the catch. Something that Vicky couldn't do, for obvious reason.

"But I won't be able too," I'd said, before explaining just why I wouldn't be able, during which time I could actually see his eyes grow wider and wider, until it looked like they would pop right out of his head. Mind you he still agreed to do it. Which lead me to the next step. The harness.

The leather reins had been common place before I was born, during the fifties and sixties, but by the time I was at my cousins you never saw a little kid wearing them, even if they were apparently commonplace on the world's ugliest doll. Made of thick leather, with childish transfers on the breast plate, with three small bells fixed at the bottom that would jingle whenever the wearer moved. Not that Vicky had ever worn them herself of course but I'd always wanted to, yet they'd always been stuck on the darn doll where they were used now as a slightly ingenious solution as to how to keep the doll sitting upright, as it would just be strapped in and attached to whatever it was sitting in. But my mind and thought of another use for them.

I was shaking a little with excitement as my now useless hands slid into the gaps between the various straps, which Oliver then pulled up onto my shoulders bringing the chest plate onto my front.

There were two straps that went over the shoulders, crossed over and then went down to the back panel where it met up with twin straps that came around my sides, from the chest plate. All of these were then buckled together and then covered over my a loose flap that was secured with pop-studs, for no real reason other than to keep things looking a bit tidier. Small metal rings, in the shape of the capitol 'D' were attached to the leather in various places so a sort of leash could be attached or, so they could be fastened down to the furniture.

It took a few minutes of various adjustments before the harness fitted me as snuggly as I wanted it too, with Oliver having to go around and back, over the buckles to get everything just right so that I could feel it pressing against my skin but not so much that it would rub, or, as we discovered on one attempt, prevent me from breathing.

The harness came with a set of leashes which weren't going to be needed on this occasions as I was going to substitute ropes for there normal purpose. Instead, I was going to use them in a way adapted from my younger days playing war games with my mates to further render my hands and arms helpless.

It was a simple solution. Each leash came in two parts joined with a buckle. At one end was a loop, at the other a clip. By doubling these over, and crossing the fastenings in the middle, I had made them into a single length with loops at both ends and an adjustable buckle in the middle.

Now I crossed my arms behind my back, folding them so each hand came to my hips on the other side. I then had Oliver slip one of the loops of the leash over each wrist, and then twisting them so the loop would close up, preventing it from coming off again. The main part of the strap now ran across my lower stomach with the buckle in the middle. When Oliver adjusted that, making it shorter, my hands were pulled towards the from of my waist, totally immobilizing them, as if I was wearing a backward straight jacket.

"Are you sure about this?" Oliver asked, when he realised just how helpless he was making me, no doubt worried that he would be getting into trouble but once more I reassured him and he carried on with the next part of my plan which involved me getting into the playpen.

It was a bit disconcerting sitting on the ground with my arms strapped behind my back, but with Oliver's help I managed to get down onto my well padded bum, and then to lay forwards so I was flat down on the ground, so my feet could be made as helpless as my arms.

I had to give Oliver instructions about how to tie me up, as clearly he'd never tied someone else up before, whilst I was something of an expert. He didn't even know that to make sure they wouldn't be able to free themselves you first had to cross someone's ankles over before you tied them. He also didn't know that you didn't just wrap the rope around the outside, as no matter how many times you do it that just won't hold. Instead what you have to do is start with that, but then thread the rope between the ankles, a few times, which will tighten the ropes until they form into something like handcuffs. Or in this case ankle cuffs.

The tying up didn't end there though, as while there was still a foot or so of rope left from tying my ankles, I bought my ankles up behind my back, so they were directly over the nappy on my bum. Then I had Oliver take the end of the rope and thread it through the rings on the back of the harness I was wearing. Once he'd done that, I had him pull on the end so that slowly my feet were pulled further and further towards my back, until my ankles all but rested on the nappy itself. Only then did I let him tie the rope off.

"This will stop me from rolling over," I told my slightly bemused cousin, before demonstrating what I meant, but just like as I'd predicted, with my knees sticking out as they new were – crossing over the ankles means the legs can't be bought together, leaving the knees sticking out – it was impossible for me to remain anywhere but on my tummy.

"However," I continued, "I can still shuffle about, so here's what you do about that!"

With me laying face down on the floor of the play pen already hog tied, Oliver picked up some more rope I'd found and going over to one corner of the playpen, threaded it through the bars, before brining it back, where he passed it under my right shoulder, across the front of the harness and then out over my left shoulder before returning it to another corner of the playpen. He then did the same at the other end, only this time the rope went behind my knees rather than under my shoulders but the effect was the same. I wasn't able to move an inch.

"Wow, you really are like a helpless baby," Oliver laughed when I attempted to make a movement, any sort a movement, for a short while but eventually had to give up as I clearly wasn't going anywhere.

"NOw you just have to keep me quiet like the doll."

Oliver didn't understand at first, but Vicky did, as she held up the dummy I'd had earlier, however before I had Oliver put it in my mouth – after all I wasn't going to let Vicky do it was I? – I got him to thread a length of ribbon through the centre ring. Then once he'd pushed the big rubber bulb over my teeth, so that it filled my mouth, he could tie the ribbon behind my head, so that I wouldn't be able to spit the dummy out.

"Try and say something," suggested my cousin but all I could mumble through the dummy now trapped in my mouth was totally unintelligible, even to me.

Oliver smiled, "Well that seems to work but I guess I'd best get Vicky in for her nap, before mum comes looking for us. Will you be okay there for a bit?"

Naturally I couldn't answer which for some reason made Oliver giggle as he backed out into the garden and closed the gate, making sure it was firmly latched. "See you in a bit."

I watched through the bars of the playpen, as Oliver led his little sister back up to the house, chatting to her as they went while I waited until they were out of sight before I attempted to see just how well my plan had worked.

Perfectly. Was the answer. Perhaps a little too perfectly.

Even the slightest experimental effort to move about, proved to me just how trussed up I was, as I soon discovered that I couldn't even wriggle. I squirmed, I writhed, all the time gurgling into the dummy, but I got absolutely nowhere, until it became so totally frustrating that I stopped trying, and just ceased my hopeless struggles, as I remembered the last time I'd been in a situation like this.

When you don't have the ability to move, time tends to pass extremely slowly, especially when you have no idea just how much time is passing.

Laying on my tummy, I cursed the thickness of the nappy for making it so much harder to perform the act that was the very reason I had allowed myself to be in this situation in the first place. Yet although the padding made it more difficult, it didn't completely prevent me from rubbing my middle section on the floor of the play pen. It just meant everything took longer, and a lot more effort.

Wearing a nappy did have one consolation over being naked though – other than not showing my private parts to a little girl obviously – and that was, once I'd finished there would be no tell tale mess beneath me to show my guilty secret, as more often than not happened when I was thirteen.

Three times I managed to bring myself off, and while the amount of liquid the nappy had to soak up after each occasion grew less, the sensations that went with them didn't diminish one iota as far as I was concerned. It was just a shame I couldn't summon the strength to go for a fourth time.

In the end I just lay there, in the warm fine weather, hearing the world going on quietly around me. The sounds of the birds, the faint sounds of traffic beyond the garden walls, became almost relaxing, at least as much as I could relax in my given situation.

It seemed like an age until anyone came out in the garden, but while I was expecting Oliver and Vicky, I was a little startled to hear adult voices.

"Oh wow," Aunt Kate said, when she saw me, while Uncle Mike had a different opinion on the matter.

"Well you certainly got yourself into a right old pickle haven't you Jason?"

I should have guess it. Oliver was such a good boy, that he'd promptly told his parents everything that had happened, and now they'd come out to see for themselves.

"That's my new dolly," Vicky announced, as no one was paying her any attention. Not that anything changed as her dad was still examining the way I was trussed up.

"Ah I see you've used the baby reins too, so he really can't move. And a dummy in his mouth so he can't talk too."

"Yes," Oliver nodded, his face nearly swallowed by the smile plastered on the front of it, "And we taped up his hands so they're like the doll's too."

"Tape?" questioned Uncle Mike leaning over the play pen rails, to have a closer look at my hands, "Oh yes I see, under the mittens. Great idea. That will keep his fingers out of trouble won't it."

My Uncle gave me a wink as he stood back up again, apparently pleased with whatever he thought I was up to – I could only hope he couldn't guess the truth – and especially that it was clearly making Oliver more used to games that were seen as more boyish, such as tying each other up, even if I had dressed as a baby to do it.

"OH well, we'd best leave you kids too it," Aunt Kate said and with that she and her husband turned and headed back to the house, never once offering to untie me, in a way that you can be sure would never happen these days.

"Okay then," Oliver said once his parents were gone, "Guess it's time for some exercise before tea."

This was a normal part of the day as Vicky and Oliver spent most of their time sitting down, playing with the original doll, that their parents had to shove in some physical time for them. NOt that it ever added up to much as there aren't all that many games that a six and eleven year olds can play that would be interesting to both, even if the eleven year old was a bit of a wimp. So just what exercise the three of us could do, was a good question, only I didn't ask it until it was too late.

Coming into the playpen, Oliver took a moment to look me over once more before he set to work releasing me from the various ropes that had help me immobile for a what would now appear to be until the middle of the afternoon.

My legs didn't work all that good after being tied up behind my back so I was more than a little unstable when I attempted to stand up. So wobbly in fact that Oliver actually had to help me take my first few steps and even then I only made it over to the edge of the play pen where I rested on the rails, as he had an idea.

"Tell you what. You wait there and I'll bring it to you."

"Bring what?" I would have asked, but as yet he hadn't removed the pacifier from my mouth so I was only able to mumble something that didn't make any sense. Not that it mattered as he'd already gone off running across the garden only to return a few seconds later with some transportation for me.

It was the pushchair of course with it's blue and white stripped seat, that he wheeled over and parked near the playpen gate, ready for me to sit in, which I did.

Carefully, on legs that were still a bit shaky I lowered myself down into the seat, and thought that would be the end of it, but Oliver, ever safe conscious had other ideas and insisted that as this time I would be moving that I had to be strapped in.

As I said before the original doll I was replacing as completely unstable, and tended to fall over, due to the over large head so in order to prevent it from always falling out of the push chair, Uncle Mike had attached some restraints for it an it was these that Oliver now fastened around me although before he got started he first had to release my arms from where they'd been crossed behind my back all this time.

First Oliver bought two straps attached to the back of the pushchair over my shoulders, leaving them hanging down on my chest, while he fished out another couple from under my armpits. They also went around the back of the chair, while at the front they connected to the two coming over the shoulders. These had been the first Uncle Mike had put on the chair, but there was also the standard waist one that came with it. This Oliver also fastened on m. Making sure as he did that all the straps were nicely tightened.

My upper body was now secured in place, which allowed Oliver to move down to make sure my feet wouldn't slip off the foot rests and drag on the floor as happened with the doll. This was achieved by small straps that went around my ankles, holding my feet immovable on the foot rest.

Sitting in the chair, with my feet raised onto the rest, caused my knees to stick up a bit in the air and apparently get in the way as Oliver felt the need to use some of the rope that had recently been holding me hot tied, to keep them out of the way, binding them to either side of the pushchair.

Finally, my arms, which I'd assumed would be left, had to be tied down too for as Oliver explained, if they didn't then the doll's arms could get trapped in the wheels so they were tied to the sides of the pushchair, both at upper arm and at the wrist, even though my hands wrapped up as they were, would be useless for anything anyway.

"There, that should do it!" Oliver stood back to look at me, along side his sister, "What do you think Vicky?"

"He looks like a dolly in her pram," she said.

"Yes, yes he does, doesn't he. So why don't we take him for a walk?"

The small girl actually jumped for joy even if that nearly turned into another massive sulk when Oliver told her to stand out of the way so he could take another couple of instant photos of me in the chair.

Then it was time to get on the move which I'd assumed would only be a short trip across the grass to the table we'd been sat at earlier only we went in the other direction which was fine as we were clearly going on a walk around the garden but then we reached the side gate, and Oliver ran ahead to open it, which could only mean one thing. We were going outside.

Suddenly I panicked a little and started to frantically wriggle and writhe in a hopeless attempt to try to free myself, only it was no good, Oliver had done such a good job that I couldn't move an inch, and of course, with the pacifier still in my mouth I couldn't say anything either. In fact all I could do was to sit there and blush a bright red, as we left the privacy of the garden.

Thankfully there weren't all that many people around, as Uncle Mike lived on a quiet street, but I knew that would soon change as I knew exactly where we were going as I'd taken the same trip a few times with Oliver myself. Only then it was me dragging him along, rather than his pushing me towards the park.

It wasn't much of a park, as there was really nothing there. Just a couple of swings in one corner, with the rest being grass surrounded by trees, bushes and shrubs. There was no space for official organised sports, not that much of those existed outside of school hours back than, but nonetheless, there were kids there, playing their own games. Or at least they were, until they saw us coming in.

"What's going on?" asked the first come over, but he sort of answered his own question when he looked at me a little closer. "Wow, he's wearing a nappy."

All eyes turned to stare between my legs, which of course I couldn't close as they were strapped to the sides of the pushchair, leaving a very clear view right up between my legs, where the plastic pants were on clear display, as was the white padding inside them although thankfully not what was going on inside them.

"He's my baby dolly," Vicky again tried to be the centre of attention but being a small girl in a group of mainly boys, this still didn't work.

"He sure can't fall out can he?" said another boy, flicking at the straps holding me in place.

"He can't neither," another pointed out, "Not with that thing stuck in his mouth."

Eventually the first boy, clearly the leader of the little group, turned back to Oliver to ask him just what was going on.

"We're just taking him for a walk in the park. That's all."

Of course that was far from all, and the local boys demanded to know the entire story, so Oliver, being the honest kid he was, told them. Everything. About how I'd not only done this to myself, but had volunteered to do it as well.

"So it was his idea, then?"

"Yes, yes it was," confirmed Oliver.

"Blimey!"

That was pretty much as far as the conversation went, as the boys soon returned to their kick about, and Oliver continued to push me around the path that ran around the outside of the park. Of course, as we walked along, any one who happened to be close by would stop to look at me, smile, laugh or ask what was going on at which point Oliver would explain it all over again, while all I could do was wriggle and squirm in what was being seen as embarrassment, but which I was no longer sure was just that as although it was humiliating to be shown off dressed as I was in just a nappy and plastic pants, I was also enjoying it on some strange level.

At one point where the ground levelled out, Oliver allowed Vicky to push me, which didn't make for the sturdiest ride, but the little girl clearly enjoyed herself, even calling out to those nearby to see her new 'boy doll', even those who had already seen me on the other side of the park where there were some of those large wooden benches all laid out, as if they actually expected people to have a picnic here. Still, that's apparently what Oliver had planned, for I was parked at the end of one of the tables – the end in full view of everyone, obviously – while he and Vicky sat on the bench itself doing very little.

This left me with nothing to do. Absolutely nothing. I couldn't move, I couldn't talk and while I could see and hear perfectly well, that wasn't exactly offering me much comfort at the moment. In fact the only thing that did offer me comfort was that I could sit there in full view of everyone wearing not just a nappy but plastic pants, and despite the initial laughter everyone just seemed to accept it, which certainly wasn't how I imagined anything like this would have happened during those first few furtive attempts, earlier in the week.

It was during an earlier visit to my cousin's house that I first became fascinated with the thought of wearing nappies and plastic pants. At that time Vicky still wore them herself, and while like most boys of my age, I wasn't all that interested in little girls – or any girls come to that – I found the smell of the nursery she then occupied to be wonderful. So wonderful that I just couldn't get enough of it. I had no idea what it was that made the room smell the way that it did, only that I liked it and wanted to get more of it. Time after time I'd sneak in there, smelling up the scents of the baby powder, the baby oil, baby lotion, and the fascinating smell of the vinyl the plastic pants were made of, along with the hospital like aroma that came from the nappies themselves.

We didn't stay over night on that occasion, or on any of the times that followed up until the visit when I was twelve. It only being then that I got to explore things that little bit more only to find that Vicky was now totally potty trained and no longer needed the extra protection the nappies provided, even if she did have the occasional accident.

My disappointment was short lived however, once I got upstairs, and found that rather than converting the nursery into a little girl's room Uncle Mike and Aunt Kate, had just moved Vicky to a new room, that had been done up especially for her sixth birthday. This meant the former room was right there, as I'd remembered it, right down to the smell, with everything left has it had been, including all the piles of nappies, plastic pants and everything else that went with it.

That night, on the way back from the bathroom before going to bed, I mad a detour to the nursery, initially intending just to have a close look around when no one else was there, however, it didn't end there, as I ended up taking my first nappy, which along with the plastic pants I smuggled back to my room.

Nothing happened for the next half an hour or so, while I waited for the rest of the house to go to sleep. Vicky, being so much younger than Oliver and myself had been in bed for some time, and although Oliver had attempted to stay up later, he had been yawning long before my usual bed time, so it was just the adults I had to be sure were out of the way, before I moved onto stage too of my plan. To actually wear the nappy.

I still wore pyjama bottoms back then although more often than not, if I were at home, I'd taken to sleeping naked, but this wasn't my home, so that's all I was wearing when, later that same night, I once more took the nappy out from where I'd hidden it and laid it on the bed.

It took me nearly half an hour to work out just what to do with the nappy, in respect to folding it in the correct way that it would look more like a nappy and less like a piece of towel, which of course is what it actually was. Several of my early attempts were just plain rubbish but eventually I managed to get the folds in the right place until I ended up with something that looked about right, at which point it was time to actually try it out for size.

Removing my pyjamas, I climbed up onto the bed where I'd laid out the nappy and with a thrill of anticipation surging through me I placed my bottom down on the soft nappy. Then I pulled up the front part, between my legs, and rested it down over my groin, while I pulled up the left size around my hips and with the pins joined the two together, before repeating the process on the other side.

That first nappy wasn't as snug as it should have been, but back then I didn't think it had to be as I assumed that's what the plastic pants were for. To hold it all together, so although the nappy slid a little around me as I moved, I picked up the pants and rolling backwards, threaded my feet through the leg holes, and gradually pulled them up my legs.

Of course, at twelve I was bigger than Vicky was, even if she was a little chunky, so I found the elastic on the waist and leg openings of the plastic pants to be very tight on me, even if this would later prove to be a great seal at a later stage in my experiments, for the time being it just made it tricky to ensure all of the nappy were inside the pants.

Once it was all done, it felt as if I was being hugged by the nappy, while at the same time I deeply loved the soft, smooth feeling of the vinyl that stretch itself across my lower body. I especially loved the way my bottom had become bloated into what looked like a little round white mushroom by the extra padding.

That was as far as things went on that first occasion, for I must have fallen asleep shortly after putting the nappies on, tired out from the day's events and from the feelings I now had of being so coddled inside the nappy.

Thankfully I woke up nice and early the next day, with more than enough time to remove the nappy and plastic pants, and to get back into my own clothes before any one caught me in them. The only problem I had was that I couldn't return the nappies, without giving myself away.

What I hadn't noticed the night before, but was all too aware of when I returned to the nursery was that all the nappies were kept neatly folded and ironed and while I could do the former I certainly couldn't do the latter, as boys just didn't iron their clothes.

There was one place I could put the nappies and that was in the 'used' bin, only they hadn't been used in the way that bin referred too. Yet, in my boyhood logic started to conclude that the only way, I was going to be able to return them was to actually use them. Or in other words I was going to have to wee in them.

It's strange how once you've made your mind up to do something then it seems the most logical thing in the world, so much so that I didn't really give what I was going to do a second thought all through the following day, right up to the point when after everyone had gone to bed that night, and the house was once more silent, I again pinned myself into the nappies.

If anything the second time was much better than the first, as I got the nappies even tighter, as I was getting better at doing it, with my bum not looking like a mushroom any more but a marshmallow instead which I took to be an improvement.

Before retiring for the night I'd made sure to not only drink a large cup of water, but also to bring another cup with me, which I now drank down as fast as I could, before sitting back and waiting for it to do its work.

The wait turned out to be a long one during which I had my first visions of myself dressed in nappies, being treated like a baby by my family, but it was only when I re-enacted something I'd heard at school that things actually got underway. For this I needed a bowl of water, which I placed in the room earlier and into which I now dipped my fingers, as this would, apparently cause me to wet myself. Okay so I don't know if that's what did it or not, or if it was just from the sheer power of my will, getting it done, but it worked even if I think I must have been asleep when it happened.

Upon waking I was partly pleased that my plan had worked but still apprehensive about how to get out of the nappies and return them without anyone noticing. The first stop would obviously have to be the bathroom as I couldn't risk removing them in the bedroom in case of leaks, so pulling my pyjamas on over the top, followed by a robe, I headed out.

Unfortunately, someone was already in the bathroom, so I had to wait, but wouldn't you know it, that's when I found out that I had to wee some more, and soon.

There was another toilet downstairs – something quite uncommon then – but I wasn't sure I could make it, plus I could hear Oliver was already downstairs, and if he saw me, I'd be stuck there for ages, so I had no option but to stay upstairs and just hope I could wait out whoever was in the bathroom.

I couldn't.

The need to go gave me a pain in the groin, that got harder and harder to ignore until I was left with no option but to face up to the inevitable that I was going to have to go in the diapers. THis after all shouldn't be an issue as after all that's what they were made for, wasn't it?

Not wanting to wet myself in the hallway I headed back to the guest bedroom, where I relaxed my bladder until a small spurt escaped from my willy out into the nappy. However although I thought that was going to be it, the opposite turned out to be true. That spurt was only the start, and once the flood gates were open there was no stopping it, and in a flat minute, or even less, I'd flooded the nappy from front to back with warm pee.

When the flow eventually came to a stop, I was really glad the plastic pants were so tight on me, as everything inside them was totally saturated, but of course, this added to the reason why I couldn't take them off until I was standing inside the bath.

In order to take my mind of things while I waited to get into the bathroom I attempted to behave as if nothing was wrong, despite the liquid that continued to move around my underwear, as I made the bed – something I didn't do at home but I was on best behaviour here – and laying out my clothes for the day, which naturally were the same clothes I'd worn the day before.

Then I started to get the urge to go to the toilet again. Only not just wee this time.

Thankfully, I didn't end up having to do that in the nappy as well, for a moment later I heard the lock on the bathroom door being slid open, followed by heavy footsteps as Uncle Mike returned to his bedroom.

Without a second to loose I bolted from the bedroom, to the bathroom. Slid the bolt home, dropped the dressing gown on the floor, followed by my pyjamas trousers, and climbed into the tub, so I could get out of the nappy.

THUD! the combination of the nappy and plastic pants hit the bottom of the cast iron bath with a noise that I felt sure would bring people knocking on the door but it didn't. What it did do was leave me naked feeling oddly cold and wet around the middle, in a way that was in no way pleasant at all.

Turning on the twin taps, I pushed the sodden nappy under them, rinsing it and the plastic pants out, before I de-tangled them, to leave them hanging on the side of the bath to dry out a bit while I set about cleaning myself up.

When I'd finished washing myself from thighs to waist – I had a bath before coming to Uncle Mikes, so obviously didn't need another one so soon – I dried both myself and the plastic pants on the towel I'd been provided before wringing out the nappy as well as I could. Which wasn't all that good at all really.

Left with a dilemma of what to do to dry the nappy as I clealry couldn't hang it out on the washing line, I eventually decided to leave it on the heated towel rail, as that was, after all what the rail was for, although I would make sure that I'd remove it later that day, before anyone realised just what it was, or why it was quite so wet.

Everything worked. No one suspected a thing. Not that night or the following nights when I also went to bed wearing both a nappy and plastic pants which I did right through until I devised the plan that lead my wearing them one more time before I ended up being strapped into a pushchair at the local park.

The journey back from the park was rather uneventful, as by that time the other kids had either got used or got bored with the way I was dressed, and just ignored it, in the way that only kids could do. We did meet a couple of adults out walking their dogs before we got home but although they gave me a strange look, neither of them said anything or commented in either way even though I must have been a really strange sight.

Once back in the garden Oliver wheeled me up to the house, where his mum was waiting.

"Ah good you're all back in time for tea. Come on in."

Again, she didn't seem the slightest bit phased about how I was, just seemed to accept it as some sort of kids game which it was, although Uncle Mike had something to say, when we went into the living room, but that was nothing but praise for what his son had apparently done to me.

"Well done Oliver," he said, ruffling his hair, "You really did a job on him didn't you?"

"Yes Dad," beamed Oliver, as he moved me through the hall and into the kitchen. "But it was mostly Jason's idea."

"Yeah I'm sure it was." Uncle Mike winked at me, as if he was were somehow in on whatever it was that he thought I was up to with his son. "Anyway, your Aunt has made your tea in the kitchen so just help yourself when you're ready."

This last comment was addressed to me which was odd as it must have been plainly obvious from the dummy in my mouth that I wouldn't be able to answer him, yet I guess, like all adults he was just used to talking only to the oldest child there, which despite appearances was still me. However, it was Oliver who got to answered him. A fact that seemed to please Uncle Mike who was still smiling as Oliver performed the tricky procedure need to turn the pushchair around, and take me back out into the hall and down in the kitchen.

Despite the rest of the house being modern – well modern for the 1970's – the kitchen still maintained a lot of the original fittings, such as the stone flooring and the large heavy timber table around which the family often eat and upon which a selection of the favourite childish snacks had been laid out.

Leaving me sitting in the pushchair for a few moments, Oliver set about making sure his little sister, was safely sitting on one of the chairs, and that she had just enough food to eat, along with a drink, all of which was served on her usual plastic plate and beaker. Only when Vicky was happily eating away did Oliver turn his attention to me.

"Is the little dolly hungry?" he asked me in the sort of whinny patronising voice that would have normally earned him a flat nose had he done it to any other thirteen year old. As it was, I was hungry, but then I nearly always was, and couldn't wait to get something to eat, although first of course I had to get out of the pushchair.

Oliver took his time unfastening the straps that had held me down for so long. Doing so in the direct reverse order of the way he'd done them up. Starting with my arms, releasing them from the sides of the pushchair, before untying my knees and feet. He even helped me to lift my feet from the foot rest and put them down on the floor so the blood could start to circulate around them once more, as he finished removing the last of the straps from around my waist and chest.

Free from the push chair, but still with the dummy in place and my hands rendered useless by the tape and mittens, I sat for second stretching out the various parts of my body that had been unable to move for most of the afternoon, while Oliver got the seat the doll always used at the table.

This wasn't a normal seat of course as the doll couldn't have been propped up in one of those, so instead Uncle Mike had made it it's own chair, based loosely, I'd been told, on one that Vicky had been using at the time. So it should come as no surprise that I was going to be using what looked very much like an over grown, and overly sturdy, highchair, but with some extra restraints built into it.

"Are you going to be a good doll and sit in the highchair on your own?" Oliver asked me, still using the same weedy voice, that somehow he made it sound like he was mocking me which was a turn up for the books, but then so was the offer he was making, as I'd often wondered what it would be like to sit in the highchair, so wasn't about to give up the chance to do so.

The highchair wasn't really all that high, as although it was made for the doll, Vicky had to be able to reach, which she did by standing on a chair, but that still meant that the seat was level with the top of the table, so there were rungs all the way around the legs, to act as a ladders, enabling me to clamber up, and once turned around to sit down.

No sooner than my padded bum hit the hard seat – there was no cousin as after all the doll didn't need one – Oliver set about securing me into it, using the restraints that his dad had provided in order to keep the doll from sliding out.

In a similar way to the pushchair, this worked by having two straps come up over my shoulders, with another one around my chest, under my arms. These all locked together, and were adjusted until my upper body was pulled back hard into the back of the high chair. This clicked into place, on little catches, and once in place, couldn't be removed without the catches being removed. In the meantime it held my feet perfectly still, trapped on the foot rest.

My arms were still free at this point but I knew that wouldn't last long and sure enough, they were soon taken in turn down the outside of the highchair, where they were strapped into place, until I felt like I was sitting in a much harder version of the pushchair, although there was still two more strap to go.

The final straps, were used to keep the doll's head upright, against the headrest. The first of these went around my neck, and which Oliver was careful not to do up too tight unless he stopped me breathing. The second went across my forehead, and this he did do up as tight as he could, until my head was rendered totally stationary.

Finally, Oliver picked up the heavy tray that had been resting beside the highchair, and slotted it into place, sliding the guides along the unused arm rests on the chair until the tray was in position right against my stomach where it locked into place.

"Right now I'll get you something to eat. Sit tight!"

He didn't laugh at his joke so I'm not sure if he knew he'd said it, but with a dummy still in my mouth – was that ever going to be removed? – I couldn't laugh either, so instead just had to watch my cousin fussing around the kitchen as he got together what he was clearly expecting me to eat.

One by one the items were lined up on the tray in front of me. A small glass jar of infant vegetable dinner with a small plastic spoon, a bowl of chocolate mouse, and two baby bottles, one obviously filed with milk and the other filled with what I later would find out to be gripe water.

"Time for your dinner," Oliver held up the plastic bib I'd used before, only to find that he couldn't put it on me, as with my head and torso strapped so tightly to the highchair, he couldn't get behind me to do so. In the end he had to put It aside and instead use a cloth one that he could just rest on my chest, with the tie straps curled under the shoulder parts of the straps holding me in place.

Only then was the dummy finally removed from my mouth, only to be replaced a few second later by a spoonful of the blandest food I'd ever tasted. I mean this was the 1970's so food wasn't exactly tasty in the first place, but there was just nothing to this at all, which would explain why I pulled a face that made Oliver think I was about to spit it out again.

"If you spit, or make a mess you'll have to be punished."

My mind spun at just what he meant by that, but there was no time to ask anything as I was busy swallowing down first the vegetable blandness and then something that tasted a bit of chocolate which was a slight improvement. Only not by much. Still I did manage to keep it all down as after all I hadn't really eaten anything since lunch and had been through quite a bit since then so was hungry enough to eat almost anything. And anyway, they were only baby sized portions so it wasn't as if there was a lot of it in the first place.

Putting down the empty bowl, Oliver immediately picked up the baby bottle of milk, which he slotted the teat into my mouth telling me to start sucking. This was something that I'd done before, of course, so I did it, especially as I was actually thirsty even so I really wasn't sure I wanted the second bottle filed with the gripe water, but figured that I would have to drink it anyway, so that's what I did.

"There's a good dolly," Oliver's patronising voice told me, "Now you sit their quietly while I tidy up."

I didn't miss the clue to what was out to happen in what he said, as he was had the large baby's dummy in his hand, the bulb of which was soon being pushed into my mouth where it was going to be staying for some time, I had the feeling.

There wasn't much mess in the first place, as most of my spillage had been caught on the bib or by the highchair's tray. Vicky had a few stains on the table, but those were easily taken care off, once Oliver cleared all the plates away, to the sink where his mum would wash them up later.

"You ready for bed now?"

Oliver's words startled me slightly, as I thought he was talking to me, but a glance at the clock on the kitchen wall told me it was still early, so he couldn't have been even though it was later than I thought it was, which just about made it to Vicky's bed time. Naturally it had been his little sister he'd been talking too.

"Can we show dolly to mummy and daddy first?" the little girl asked, and of course the answer was a yes.

Moving around behind the highchair, Oliver kicked the brake with his foot that released the locks on the wheels, so it could be pushed back and forth from the table as it was needed, given that it was much too heavy for anyone to actually carry it, even if it didn't have a fourteen year old boy strapped into the seat.

Naturally the casters weren't as good as the wheels on the pushchair, only being intended to go forwards and backwards, so it took a bit of work for Oliver to be able to get me down the corridor to where his parents were still sitting in the living room watching something on early evening television that seemed to involve a news style programme reporting things that weren't in the slightest way anything to do with what was happening in the world, as long as they could make some sort of crude comment about it.

Anyway, they both turned when I was pushed through the door, although that probably had to do with the front of the highchair crashing into a small table, Oliver hadn't taken into account.

"You've done it again Oliver," his father enthused, "I bet Jason can't move at all can he?"

"No, no he can't," my cousin beamed, as if his face could light up the entire room.

"You can't leave him there though dear," Aunt Kate then said, somewhat missing the point in the way only a mother could. "It's Vicky's bed time and Jason's chair is blocking the door."

That situation was soon fixed though when Oliver volunteered to put Vicky to bed, and while his dad wasn't keen on that his eyebrows did raise when Oliver added that he also wanted to do a couple of things upstairs in order to make me more comfortable when it was time for me to go to bed. No further details were forthcoming on that and I wasn't too sure that I'd want to hear them even if they had been. However, I didn't much like the next suggestion either.

"I know, why don't I leave Jason outside until I'm ready to take him upstairs."

"Do you think that's wise dear?"

Oliver thought about his mum's objection for a moment, before coming up with the perfect reason, "Well he has had a lot to drink recently and we wouldn't want him to leak on the floor."

"He's wearing a nappy?" Uncle Mike pointed out, as if this was perfectly normal, "Why would he leak?"

Again there was another pause while Oliver thought this through, "Well, the nappies are made for little kids but Jason's a teenagers, and teenagers must wee a lot more than little kids do."

Of course I knew this to be true already, but I also knew that the nappy and plastic pants could hold it, but it I wasn't about to admit that, even if I had been able to talk. Still, to adults who don't know about teenagers wearing nappies, it sounded like a good reason, especially as they'd just had new shag pile carpet put down, so it was outside with me.

Naturally I attempted to make some sort of protest, but there was little I could even if I'd struggled with all my might, it would have made no difference given the way I was strapped in place. Heck, with the straps around my head, I shouldn't even shake my head to say no, and of course I couldn't say anything around the dummy in my mouth, as I was wheeled down the corridor and out of the back door, where I was finally left in the middle of the patio. Parked with the brake back on again.

Alone again there was no one to see, I was able to relax slightly, only to discover that this caused me more discomfort in another direction, as the need to empty my bladder got stronger and stronger.

Before too long I was once more wriggling and writhing within my restraints as I fought the staining of trying to hold on, until eventually I just gave up, and just let it all flood out into the nappy and plastic pants which turned out to be quite good at holding everything, just as I knew they would be, from the last time I'd been rendered helpless in a nappy and had ended up having to wet myself, and more.

Now as you already know, by the age of thirteen I'd developed a fascination for being tied up from my friend Shaun Malone, and the year before had started to enjoy wearing nappies, so it was only a matter of time before I put the two things together. Of course, in the main part of the story you are reading that is exactly what I was doing, but something as complicated doesn't just coming into the mind of a young teenager, as a fully formed plan, there have to be practise sessions first and while I only really had one of those it was a really good one.

In the year between my visits to my cousins house, I coined to think about the two things that now entertained me, and sure enough practised the one of those things that I could do on my own, which was to tie myself up. This was never all that successful, but was at least gave me some experiences with the subject which is something I couldn't do about the nappies as I just couldn't get any.

However the lack of readily available nappies didn't stop me from thinking about them, especially when my mum made an off handed joke about Oliver, when she thought I wasn't listening.

It was in the time leading up to my going there to 'toughen him up', during phone calls between my parents and Aunt Kate. Shortly after one of these, my mum suggested that it was like Aunt Kate wore the trousers in the house, as she always seemed to be in charge. To this my dad joked back that he couldn't see Uncle Mike in a dress. This got them both laughing, especially when they then said together, that they could well imagine Oliver wearing Vicky's clothes.

Perhaps this is where the entire doll thing came from but I found the entire idea incredibly exciting even if I couldn't actually imagine it happening in reality as it just wasn't like Uncle Mike or even Aunt Kate to do something like that. However, I had heard of some people who would.

It may have been an urban myth, but there was a well known story that went around our school some months before I went to stay with my cousins, concerning how an un-nammed boy had fallen foul of the local Girl Guide troop, in spectacular fashion.

The details of just what happened were also sketchy and tended to change from telling to telling, but one thing remained constant throughout was that this boy – no seemed to know his actual name other than he was a cub scout – was making a pest of himself to the girl guides which may, or may not, have included his big sister, that they decided to get their own back, by turning him into a baby.

So that's what they did one day in the park. They over powered him with ease, stripped him naked, put him in a nappy, plastic pants and possibly other baby clothes, before putting him in a harness that they tied to the floor, so although he could move around, he couldn't get away.

Of course to most boys my age, this sounded like a combination of the must humiliating things they could imagine, from being naked in front of girls, to the dressing up and everything else, but to me, while I tended to agree about the girl thing, the rest sounded like so much fun, I only wished I could have tried out it. Only I couldn't for the same reason I couldn't do anything like that, I didn't have the things I would need. At least I didn't until I got to my cousins.

The visit when I was thirteen opened my eyes to so many different things not least of which was the harness the doll was always wearing to keep it upright, and of course, all the other scaled up baby stuff that had either been made or found for it, some of which I would have Oliver use on me, but that first time, I only had thoughts about using on myself.

Naturally, I may have been thirteen but I wasn't totally stupid, as I knew that if I was going to re-enact the story, I would need to make a list of things I would need to make it seems as authentic as possible, and more precisely to make sure that it didn't go all wrong and I'd get caught doing some really weird stuff.

The first thing I needed was, naturally privacy, and that got handed to me over the weekend when Uncle Mike said he was going to take everyone to visit their other family. You know the one to which I'm not actually related. This would be awkward for me, as in true soap opera style, the two family didn't – and in fact still don't – get on for reasons that no one is really sure about but which I turned to my advantage, securing the day on my own at Uncle Mike's 'relaxing' from my task with Oliver.

In the 1970s no one thought it odd for a young boy to be left alone at home during the day, even over night, so there was going to be no one checking up on me, and Uncle Mike certainly wasn't going to be wasting an expensive phone call that I probably wouldn't answer anyway, so I was free and clear. All I had to do was get ready.

The main parts of the plan were obviously the nappies and the harness, both of which I couldn't really get at until the day, as Doll would be dressed up in its best clothes before being taken on a trip, which would mean the harness would be removed and left being. Of course this meant I wouldn't be able to try it out before hand, but that was fine, as it just added to the excitement.

In the meantime I turned my attention to the next issue, how was I going to make sure that I was trapped in the harness like the boy in the story had been?

Chain was the obvious answer to this. Long, thick heavy chain, like UNcle MIke had his shed, along with some really strong spring clips, and a big padlock to secure it something. But what? Well, that was easy, as down in the middle of the grass, play area, a spinball set had been put up, the base of which was screwed into the ground via a long spike that was impossible to pull out – I'd tried during a King Arthur game – and which a chain could easily be fixed to.

It was all coming together very nicely, but I still had one major problem and that was, once I was wearing the harness, and chained to the post what was to stop me from just letting myself go, an option that would totally ruin the scene I was trying to re-enact?

The answer was on one of those dodgy talent shows that were popular back then. Nothing like the slick things Simon Cowell does now, although they did have their fair share of dodgy acts on include escape artists. It was one of those that did this trick where he was chained up and locked in a trunk for which the only keys were frozen in ice. This of course meant that he wouldn't be able to use them to free himself until the ice melted only, naturally he was out well before that happened. But it did give me that as an idea. ALl I had to do was put the key in a cup of water. Freeze the water into ice, and then I wouldn't be able to free myself until the ice melted so, in effect I'd be as trapped as if someone else was doing it to me. Brilliant.

So it was the day before I was going to be on my own I nipped into the kitchen on the way up to bed, selected large plastic cup, filled it with water, but instead of taking it upstairs, took from my pocket a pencil, from the middle of which I'd tied a short piece of string. On the end of the string was the padlock key. Laying the pencil across the top of the glass, the key now dangled in the middle of the water. I then hid the plastic cup right at the back of the freezer where no one would see it, and went to bed.

On the day in question I was so excited about what I was going to do that I felt like I could have burst, but had to play it calm in order not to give anything away, at least until Uncle Mike had got everyone else into the car and they'd driven off, leaving me alone for up to five hours. Only then could I get started.

The first thing I had to do was get everything ready which meant taking trips not just into the doll's nursery, Vicky's room and Uncle Mike's shed.

When I had everything ready, I went into my room to get myself ready, which of course meant first taking my own clothes off and putting on the nappy.

Although it had been some time since I'd last one I found it easy to remember how to do it, making sure to apply loads of baby oil and then a ton of baby powder all over my loins both front and back so that everything was well and truly covered. I'd even come up with an idea about how to make the nappies even more babyish by making them bigger and thicker, so for that reason not only did I put two on, but I also used a third as what I would later discovered to be called a soaker pad, but for me back then was just extra padding.

It was a bit of a struggle getting the nappies to close around me, as not only were they thicker than last time but I was also that little bit bigger. This naturally also meant getting the plastic pants on was tough, but I was determined to run everything as close as as possible to what had happened, so I yanked and pulled those clear elastic lined pants all the way up to my waist, ensuring all the nappies were tucked in along the way.

When it was all done, I was panting a little bit, so took a rest, in front of the mirror where I couldn't get over just how big my middle looked. At least I wouldn't have had I not had to waddle just to get there as I was unable to get my thighs even close together, due to all that padding between my legs. I did look great though and could just imagine how humiliating it must have been for someone else to dress you up like this, and in public too. Thankfully I wasn't going to have to go through that. Well that's what I thought at the time anyway.

Now I had the nappy on it was time to make sure that I couldn't take it off, which meant the harness, yet as I reached for that, I noticed something that I'd missed. The dummy.

It was the same dummy that I would use with Oliver, but I'd tied cords to the sides so that once it was in my mouth I wouldn't be able to spit it out again, just like the boy in the story. Once it was in my mouth and held secure, I went downstairs.

Unable to make anything more than a mumbled sound that probably sounded a bit like a baby, I started to put on the harness the best way I could, which wasn't the perfect way, as I soon found I couldn't actually put it on in the same way the doll wore it, as with all the fastenings were at the back, I just couldn't reach them. It was of course designed like this so the wearer couldn't take if off but that also meant the wearer couldn't put it on either. The only way I could put it on was backwards, so the buckles were on my chest and the chest piece was behind my back. It wasn't perfect but it worked. None of the straps were quite as tight as I thought they would go but for that to happen someone else would have to adjust them, and that wasn't an option, just yet but even so it was all rather a good fit, even if the crotch strap was a bit tight as it run over and around the nappy.

By now I was getting excited, even though there was absolutely no sign of this through the thickness of the padding between and around my waist and legs, I knew that I had to get going or else I wouldn't be able to resist doing what every teenage boy does when he's that turned on.

I had to go down the stairs one step at a time as it just wasn't safe for me to walk normally down the stairs, as I certainly didn't want to fall and end up in a heap at the bottom wearing a nappy.

Having safety arrived on the ground floor, I made my way into the kitchen to collect the glass of ice from the freezer, and headed out into the garden.

In the middle of the lawn, I pulled out the swingball pole, leaving the securing steak in the ground and quickly locked one end of the chain to it. For the other end I had to pull all the D rings on the harness into one bunch before I passed the hook of the final padlock through them all as well as the chain itself. Then I locked it.

So there I was, for all intended purposes exactly like the guy in the story I'd heard about. Dressed in an over large nappy and plastic pants, with a dummy in my mouth, and stuck right where I was, in the middle of the park – well a private garden – harnessed to the ground until the ice melted.

For the first half an hour or so all was going great, but after that time I started to get a bit bored and wished I had something to actually do, not to mentioning feeling a little daft sitting there in a nappy. Still in my mind that was like the story, sort off, as I was starting to feel really helpless, which got me excited all over again.

With nothing to do and nothing to think about but that I was wearing a nappy, it probably shouldn't have been all that much of a surprise that my mind soon turned having a wee, especially as I'd purposely not gone at all so far that morning. Of course that was all part of the plan although I hadn't realised just how badly I needed to go.

Anyway I just let go this time, and really filled the nappy up, which thankfully held everything I gave it, so the extra padding I'd put in was clearly doing it's job.

So that was it. I'd done everything I'd set out to do. I'd put on the nappy, plastic pants, harnessed myself down and wet myself. A look at the ice glass however showed that I still had some hours to go stuck where I was, with a wet nappy. I could only hope I'd used enough baby powder and baby oil.

What was true was that I did feel like the kid in the story must have felt stuck where I was, and wanting to get free but knowing that I couldn't.

It was at this point that I realised that although this was what I wanted that just like in the story it really wasn't that much fun on your own. What I needed to make it seem real was someone else around, not just to ensure that I had the harness on correctly but do those other things that I couldn't do on my own, just as keep me amused.

Another hour or so passed or at least that's what I thought as although I didn't have a watch on – kids back then didn't wear them – and there were no clocks in sight, I was usually a good judge of such things. During this time there was nothing for me to do but watch the ice melt, and plan how I could do this better next time, perhaps with Oliver's help. Then the one thing I hadn't bargained on happened.

My stomach started to rumble, which at first I took as a sign I was hungry as I hadn't eaten since breakfast and that was sometime earlier, but there was something I hadn't done for even longer than that. Go to the toilet.

In all my preparation I'd never once even thought about having a poo in the nappy. In fact, I'd never thought about it at all, and yet now it was getting to be a very real possibility.

I had options of course. I was an active boy used to running around all day every day back at home, so going to the toilet in the great outdoors was nothing new to me. Hell, we all did it back then and I don't just mean having a wee up the side of a tree either, but the other thing too. It was just one of those fact of life that everyone accepted and got on with things. However, there was one thing we usually did and that was conceal ourselves before we did. Yet that wasn't an option for me, as the chain I'd locked to the harness just didn't give me enough reach to get to the shrubs that boarded the lawn in either side.But to do that I'd need to be free from the harness, not least due it preventing the removal of the nappy.

For the first time I started to actually think about ways to get myself free before the ice melted. Tugging on the harness made no difference, and with the crotch strap on it wouldn't come over my head any more than I could push it down. I couldn't undo the straps, even if they were on the front, as the D rings with the padlock were over the top of them. Likewise, I couldn't remove the lock without the key and if I couldn't remove the lock then I couldn't remove the chain either. So it was the key or nothing.

Breathing hot breath on the ice to speed up the melting was near impossible with the dummy in place, and while placing the glass between my bare thighs did do something, what it mostly did was make my legs go all tingly and/or numb, so that didn't work.

Then it hit me. An intense feeling that was a bit like the sort of cramp you get when you don't warm up in sport, only this wasn't in my sides, or down my legs, but in my bottom, And it could only mean one thing. I needed to poo. Soon.

That was when the reality of my situation hit me. Clearly I wasn't going to be going anywhere other than the middle of the lawn soon, and I needed to go to the toilet, in the worst possible way.

There was nothing for it. I was actually going to have to poo in the nappy. I had no other option. The only question now was, just how do you do that?

Okay that sounds stupid when you say it out loud – not that I could – but I'd never done it before, so didn't know if I was meant to sit down, stand up, or even do a bit of both, standing in a sitting crouch, as if I was sitting on an invisible toilet. In the end it just happened.

A fart so loud that it could have bought down the walls of Jericho sounded from deep within my bowels, and which actually made me smile in a way kids can only do when someone lets one off. Even if it's themselves doing it. That smile didn't last though, as the fart was only the start of things.

When it came out, it felt as if my insides were emptying into my nappy, and I feared that I had the runs from eating too much of Aunt Kate's high fat, high sugar, high salt and high just about everything else we're not allowed to eat in the current century, diet. But if there's one thing about wearing a nappy is that you can tell exactly what sort of poo you are having, as it never really leaves you. There was clearly some firmness involved, even if that didn't really seem to lessen the over all mess that was being created.

I was on my knees when it all happened, and that's where I stayed, partly afraid to move and partly wondering just what I was going to do next. I could feel the mess going everywhere inside the nappy but both the nappy and the plastic pants did appear to be holding on to everything, although I wasn't sure if this was a good thing or not.

That was when I made what had to be the worst decision I'd made all day. I decided to sit down so I could think.

I did it slowly. Moving off my knees in a sideways motion so I was basically sitting on just one bum cheek, whilst leaning over to the other side in order to maintain my balance. It was a position that I wouldn't be able to keep for long, and sure enough a minute or so later I was sitting down right in the middle of the mess.

Once more, as I sat down, the mess in the nappy re-arranged itself, basically going everywhere that it hadn't already been, squashing itself all over, and around my bum, until it felt like I was sitting in a mud puddle.

Now I really felt like a baby as I sat there, in a sticky poo filled nappy, chained to the ground, with nothing to do but watch the ice melt around the key.

So I sat, my hands holding the ice beaker for as long as they could take the cold, before putting it down. On the grass I'd rest it against one of my legs, which were now spread about as wide as they could possible go, given that what had started out as a thick nappy, had now been expanded even further, to accommodate, everything I'd eaten the previous day.

There was a sense of achievement, after about half an hour of this, when the ice came free from the beaker, which at least gave me direct access to it. I still couldn't hold it for long, as now not only was it still cold – obviously – but as the ice melted it became slippery leading me to drop it on several occasions, raising the risk that it would roll out of reach. So I had to be careful, as I attempted to break the ice by bashing it against anything solid I could get to, which was basically the swingball anchor point I'd chained myself too.

It worked. It took some time but it worked. After chipping tiny lots of tiny bits from the cylinder, it eventually developed a crack down on side, that with a few more targeted bashes, fractured the ice completely, dropping the key onto the grass at my feet.

Finally the key was in my hand. It was cold, wet and slippy, making holding it tricky, and guiding it into the large padlock securing my chest harness to the chain, difficult but I was one determined kid, and despite numerous missed attempts, I got to hear the most satisfying sound of the day. The click as the padlock sprung open.

From that point, things went into double speed, as I shrugged my way out of the harness, leaving it on the grass, as a scrambled up to me feet while trying not to close my legs any more than I absolutely had to.

Once up, the plastic pants were peeled down over the top of the nappy, just far enough so I could release the pins that held it in place. Then gravity took over and the entire messy thing fell to the ground with a thud, that very nearly caused a local earthquake.

Being naked in the outdoors wasn't a new experience for me – I'd been skinny dipping after all – and neither was being dirty, in the way 'real' boys often were, but this was something different. Very different and rather smelly too. That was only going to be cured by my breaking my one bath a week rule.

Obviously an actual bath was out of the question, but there was a hose pipe at the side of the house, which was, after all, my preferred way to wash up when I came in from playing out.

Cold water on a hot sunny day, has to be one of the most refreshing ways to get clean ever which is probably why parents didn't count it as actual washing, but on that day at least, washing it most certainly was. A lot of washing.

Standing over one of the house drains I aimed the jet of water I made by placing a thumb over the open end of the hose, at every part of my body from upper thighs to waist, and back again. Going over and over and over the same areas, from every angle it was possible to get the hose at while I not just stood there, but crouched, leant to the side, and more often than not, bent over.

By the time I no longer felt sticky and the smell was just a horrible memory, I started to get worried about the time, so with no time to get dressed, I remained naked, as I ran around the garden, getting rid of the evidence of what I'd done. This involved several black bin bags sealing up the messy nappies and plastic pants – there was no way I was going to wash them out – and then burying the entire thing at the bottom of the big metal dustbin. Then, I removed the harness and chain, replaced the swingball back where it should be, before finally heading back inside to tidy up in there too.

I was sitting in the kitchen having a glass of milk from a plastic beaker that had seen better days, when I heard Uncle Mike's car pull up.

Trying to remain as calm as possible, whilst worrying about three dozen things that could give me away at once, I remained sitting there, until I heard the front door open, and Aunt Kate called out to me. Only then did I answer. Or attempt to, as I still had the dummy in my mouth.

Somehow, despite all the cleaning up. Putting everything back where it should be, and getting dressed in my normal jeans and t-shirt, I hadn't once noticed that I was constantly sucking on the rubber teat that was strapped in my mouth. Not that it remained there for long, as by the time Vicky and Oliver came to find me, it was tucked away in my pocket.

The usual pleasantries were exchanged. Uncle Mike asked me about my day to which I answered like teenagers having been doing throughout time, with something non-committal, while Vicky went on about what she'd been up to, Aunt Kate, unpacked everything they'd taken and Oliver just stared at the short length of ribbon that was peaking out of the pocket of my jeans.

Naturally while I was sitting strapped into that highchair, on my Uncle's patio, there was no way I wasn't going to be able to prevent myself from filling the nappy I was wearing with the full contents of my thirteen year old bladder, and sure enough, part way remembering my garden baby time, I wet myself. Ironically this was at the exact point I did the same, and more, in the story.

By the time Oliver returned to see how I was going, everything was done and over with. The nappy had done the job it was designed for, soaking away everything I'd given it, but at the same time announcing to anyone who cared to look, just what had happened.

It was only Oliver who came out, for a moment he didn't seem to know what to do, and just stood there looking at me, like he was somehow surprised to see me right where he'd left me. Eventually though he started to get himself together, walking up to me and, much to my surprise, pushing his hand right underneath the tray to poke at the plastic pants that covered my loins.

"My, you really went to a wee a lot didn't you," he said, as if this was news to me, although the thing he said next certainly was, "Guess I'm going to have to change you now."

That was all he said. Just that. But even as he said it, he started to unfasten some of the straps that were holding me ridged in place, so it wasn't like I was going to argue with him, even if I had been in a position to do so.

A short time later and I was free from all restraints for the first time in ages, not just those that had held me to the highchair and the harness but not the tape around my hands, which I should have worried about but didn't. Instead I had to worry about whether my legs would ever work again. Just as when I released from the play pen my legs weren't up to their usual job so although I could stand I had to do so while holding onto the side of the highchair which gave Oliver another chance to inspect me.

"I don't think you've leaked so we should be able to get to the garage to change your clothes, ready for the evening walk."

This was one of Aunt Kate's previous ideas to try and get Oliver out meeting people more often. It had, of course, failed or I wouldn't have been called in. All the same, it was something that had continued most evenings once Vicky had been put to bed, Oliver and I would be encouraged to 'walk off our dinner' rather than watching TV. To me it was pointless and boring but I was a guest so I'd gone along with it, up until that day, when I was actually looking forward to stretching me legs which, so far that day, had been somewhat cramped up. Not that it turned out like that as Oliver had another surprise for me in the large, cumbersome shape of an old style perambulator.

The family garage was at the side of the house, not far from where I'd been parked, but wasn't actually big enough to handle the size of cars that were around back then, so like many families my relatives just used it to store boxes of junk.

"Stand here in case you leak when I remove your plastic pants," Oliver pointed to the small drain grating that was built into the floor of the garage.

I did as I was told, slightly surprised that this formally shy by would offer to do something quite that dirty, but then I guess he'd helped changed his sister's nappies when she was younger, and anyway, it was in his helpful nature to do something like that. Plus, I didn't really want to do it.

Carefully, Oliver lifted the waistband of the plastic pants away from my skin. Peeling it down, whilst folding it back over itself, like you would a banana skin until finally it came clear of the nappy, and flopped down to my ankles.

"Okay you can step out of these now."

I lifted each of my feet in turn, while resting my hands on his shoulders for extra balance, which I needed as the plastic was seemed slightly sticky, and stuck to one of my ankles, until Oliver pulled it off, leaving it over the drain.

"I got this for you to lie on."

Of all things there was a plastic coated baby changing mat laying on the floor beside me that I was sure hadn't been there when I'd walked into the garage, but all the same was a welcome sight as it was after all the perfect thing to enable me to get the nappy off.

Gingerly I sat down, carefully lowering myself down, in a cross legged fashion, before laying back to allow Oliver full access to the nappy I was wearing. It not being until he'd actually started to unfasten the pins holding it all together that I realised this was the first time anyone had changed my nappy in what had to be a good ten years.

When the front was released, Oliver edged my legs apart so he could pull it down, between them, which exposed my naked parts to him, not that he hadn't seen them before just not in the slightly shrivelled fashioned they now were from having been wet for quite so long. Still, Oliver was nothing if not practical, so rather than comment about that, he just got on with the job at hand, producing a cloth to start cleaning me up.

It didn't take that long as the nappy had done a good job so there was little to actually clean, even so Oliver did a complete job, running that cloth all around my private parts, and once the nappy was removed, even going underneath me, to make sure that nothing had leaked through onto my bum.

"I've got you some things to wear," announced my cousin when he was done with everything, and the nappy I'd wet was sealed up in a bag ready for disposal, however, when I expected to see my own big boy clothes, I was in for a surprise, when he took two more cloth nappies and started folding them together.

"What are you doing?" I asked, or at least I did once he'd removed the dummy from my mouth.

He stopped what he was doing. Looking at me and then back at the nappy he was constructing on the floor of the garage. "Yes you're right, I need more."

Taking another cloth nappy, he added that into what he was doing, while I just sat there, naked, propped up on one elbow watching him. "Is this going to be enough?" he asked.

At this point what I should have asked was, "enough for what," but instead, what I said was, "Isn't that too thick?"

"Oh no," he replied patting the pile that now looked to be approaching two inches thick, "Vicky wore something like this once when she had the runs, it's work. Look I'll show you. Lift your bum up."

I did as I was asked, raising up my rear enough so the massive looking bulk of cloth could be passed underneath me. I then lowered myself back down onto it, which if nothing else proved to be really comfortable as I could no longer feel the hardness of the garage floor, or the stickiness of the plastic changing mat.

While I was doing that Oliver picked up a familiar white plastic tub, and began generously applying the baby powder to my loins, ensuring that everything was very well coated.

Then came the moment of truth as he attempted to fasten the nappy closed.

Clutching the front of the nappy in both his hands, Oliver bought it up between my legs, resting it on top of my tummy, while at the same time pulling up one side around my hip and using a pin to join the two together. Before repeating it all with the other side.

As the nappy was closed around me I felt two things. The first being that Oliver appeared to not only know what he was doing but was clearly very good at it, as it seemed like he had four hands, as they were everywhere, lifting, holding, tightening, and pinning the nappy closed. The other things I thought was just how thick the nappy was. As it raised up between my legs, I could feel my thighs being pushed apart by the bulk of the cloth.

"I got you the biggest pair of plastic pants we've got, so they should fit."

Oliver shook dark red coloured pants out, making them snap like a ground sheet, which also appeared to be what they made off as it was much more like a sort of rubber than the thin see through plastic I'd previously had on. The same sort of rubber that you'd see on a butcher's apron back then, was slightly rough to the touch as he put my feet through the leg holes and started to work them up my legs.

"Lift your bottom up," he instructed, as he got close to the massive nappy, so that he could get the back of them under my bottom, at the same time as working the front up over my crotch, until the waistband stopped just beneath my belly button, where the elastic closed on my skin to form a deep seal that Oliver checked with his finger tips to ensure the nappy was totally covered.

"Right then now for your clothes. What do you think of this?"

He appeared to be holding some sort of long shirt, that was a little strange at the bottom.

"What is it?" I asked, as I didn't actually have a clue, not having seen one before, which left it up to Oliver to explain.

"It's called a ones," he said. "You wear it like a t-shirt only these bits at the bottom snap over your nappy to hold it in place, but they can be easily undone again to make changing the nappy so much easier. Mum got it as a joke for the doll, do you want to try it on?"

It didn't. Or rather I know I shouldn't want to. But the truth was I did. With it's basic white colour that had been bleached so hard that it practically glowed, and pale blue trim around the sleeves and neck, it couldn't have appeared to be any more babyish, even if it hadn't said "Happy in a Nappy" on the front.

Of course I wanted to try it on, only I couldn't bring myself to actually say so. Not that I needed to as even while I was apparently thinking about it, Oliver was already rolling it up, in that way mothers do when they are about to put a shirt over a little kid's head. To which I responded, not by saying something rude, or even running away, but by putting my still taped up hands up ready to receive the sleeves.

Sitting up I more or less completely surrendered what was left of my dignity as the ones came down over my head, across my chest and stomach and billowed out over the front of the rubber pants I was now wearing. I was then instructed to lay down once more and raise my bum up in that familiar way so the ones could be snapped clothes between my legs.

When Oliver was done I really didn't think I could look any more like an over grown toddler. The ones did nothing to hide the size of the nappy I was wearing, and if anything, seemed to make it all the more obvious especially if I twisted and turned the upper part of my body.

"Okay, let's put this back on shall we?"

It was the harness Oliver now held up and again I should have questioned why, but I didn't as I sort of missed having the tight nest of straps around my torso and anyway, it's not like it meant anything. Did it?

Once my arms were in, the harness was around my chest, and Oliver nipped in behind me to once more adjust all the straps to their full tightness before buckling everything up good and tight until I was securely fastened in once more, but this time he left off the reins.

"Won't be needing these, as you won't be walking anywhere."

My mind boggled at what was meant by that as I'd assumed the entire idea was that we'd be taking a stroll around the garden as per Aunt Kate's instructions, but Oliver clearly had other ideas, which were soon explained once he'd removed a dust sheet or two to reveal the pram.

It was an old fashioned style of pram even back then. Big and black, with wheels that could have come from the Chooper bike I had back at home, but with a better suspension, and a big hood over one end.

"Don't think you've seen this before have you Jason?" Oliver asked before explaining that they hadn't had it long, with the idea that Vicky could use it for the doll, who was, as I already knew, too big for the pushchair that was currently in use for it's transport. However, this didn't look at different, at least until Uncle Mike had made some adjustments to it so that the doll will fit, as Oliver proceeded to demonstrate.

Walking around the pram, Oliver, unclipped the prams clear plastic storm cover, which acted as an apron over the open part of the top, removed the attached shopping bags that hung at the front and sides, and put down the hood. He then turned the pram around, so that, sitting on the floor as I was, I was more or less eye level with the handle end.

The base board of the pram's main body had been modified so it could be removed, by sliding it up through some groves fitted to the sides to allow for extra room. Leg room in this case as two round holes had been cut in the bottom of it that were just large enough for a pair of legs could go through. These holes were well padded, so they added like a sort of pair of ancient village stocks, trapping the just above the knees, and the rest of the body inside the pram itself.

"Want to try it out?" Oliver offered.

"I won't fit?" It was more of a question than a statement, although Oliver took it as the former.

"You will. The doll does, and we already know your the same size as that is. Go on, give it a go."

I was still a little hesitant but at the same time, strangely excited about the idea of laying in a pram, which after all is just what I was dressed for.

IT turned out to be a bit tricky getting into the pram. For the doll it would have been simple as that could have just been lifted in the top by Uncle Mike or Aunt Kate, or even by me, but there was no way a skinny kid like Oliver would have been able to do that, let alone lifting me up over the top, so I had to do it all myself, which is where the tricky part came in as with the bulky nappy on I couldn't just climb up over the side, as I could no longer get my knee up high enough.

In the end, there was nothing for it but for me to duck down under the pushing handle, until I was standing between in and the main body of the pram. The end board was already out, leaving the inside mattress just about level with my now extra padded bottom. So, turning my back to it, and with the pram's brakes firmly on, I could get up on the tips of my toes, and sit my bum on the edge. Then, with the size of my nappy sort of wedging me inside, do my best attempt to shuffle backwards, until I was sat about a quarter of the way down the pram, and my legs were dangling by the knees on the outside so Oliver could get the base board back into place.

The holes in the board was next to each other, which meant I had to bow my legs a little given how far apart the nappy was forcing my thighs, but the board slotted into place, and Oliver was able to click the two catches into place that would hold it there.

I was still sitting up at this point, but Oliver suggested that I lie down, to make sure I was a good fit and even though I'd noticed the various clips and straps that were attached to the inside of the pram, I did as he was asked.

The base of the pram wasn't flat, as the far end, where my head would go had been raised up at an angle, so although I wasn't actually laying down I wasn't really sitting up either, just more propped up, which had I been the doll I no doubt would have slid from side to side, which is why the restraints were there. Or at least so I assumed anyway.

A sort of belt went around my waist, or rather around my belly, while other spring loaded, elastic clips were clipped onto the harness at the sides and on top of the shoulders. Everything could be adjusted to make sure that I stayed right in the middle of the pram. There were even straps for my arms. Little buckles had been attached to the sides of the prams interior that were fastened around my wrists and upper arms, until there was no way I could move, or even do anything about where I was.

"Right then. Let's get your legs out of the way."

Ducking under the pram, I had no line of vision as to what Oliver was doing but I didn't really need one as I felt a strap being buckled around by my ankles, binding them together, and them for the pair of them to be bend backwards, folding them underneath the pram's body where they were attached to something.

Naturally once all this was done, I was once more totally immobilized for the fourth time that day, and there was just one more thing to be added. The dummy which I found it no surprise that Oliver was holding that next, to expertly push the large rubber bulb deep into my mouth, and then winding securing ribbons tightly around my head several times, tying them behind my neck before fastening yet another strap around my neck, that would hold me head down.

"How's that feel?" asked Oliver, "Are you good and helpless, like a little baby?"

It was a strange question of the quiet kid to ask me, but one that certainly suited the situation he'd got me into and to which I could only answer with a heavily muffled noise that was nothing like speaking.

"Good," Oliver answered his own question. "Let's get you ready for your walk then."

Even as I'd been strapped into place, I'd wondered just how freaky the world's ugliest doll would have looked in the same position I was now in, especially with the way the legs were bent under the pram, but of course Uncle Mike had come up with a way to deal with that which is where the shopping bags came in. These were like two curtains, made of similar material to the rest of the pram, that hung down all around under the main part, and which totally hid my immobilized legs from view.

The hood was raised up, over my head and locked into place, partly hiding my head while the main part of my lower torso was then concealed under the pram cover which was spread out over the top of the pram, and pulled taut across it via the elastic clips that held it in place.

I was now hardly visible to anyone unless, that is they actually peered inside the pram, as of course adults are always inclined to do, while all I could do was lie there almost flat and stare up at the white lining on the inside of the hood.

Suddenly the brake was released and I was on the move.

I had no view of where I was going, but given the garage only had one opening door, I didn't really need to see the first part of the journey as that had to be out into the garden, where the fresh air managed to come through the shielding around my legs, to tell me I was outside.

The pram swayed slightly, bouncing on it's outlandish springs, as Oliver pushed me along the uneven pathway that made up the path and then a flatter surface that I assumed was the patio. An assumption that was proved to be correct when the pram came to a halt.

Nothing happened for a second. Then there was some whispering, some laughter, and then the hood was lowered, allowing me to plainly see the amused faces of my Aunt and Uncle.

"Oh that's delightful," Aunt Kate, smiled, "Jason fits the pram so much better than the doll ever did."

"Indeed," agreed her husband, peering in for a second, before turning to address Oliver, "How did you get him to co-operate?"

It was an interesting question, as I wasn't totally sure that I had co-operated but then I hadn't exactly stopped what was happening either. Mind you what my cousin said was even more interesting.

"Well, I thought that he'd wanted a ride in the pushchair, so I knew he'd enjoy this too."

"Indeed," repeated Uncle Mike, stroking his chin with one hand while reaching down to peel back the shopping bags, "I see everything worked out okay, with his legs and everything just like you said."

"Yes."

It was a simple reply from Oliver, but even though I couldn't see him, there was enough excitement contained in the word that I knew he was smiling like a Cheshire Cat, faced with a bucket full of cream.

"So what are you going to do with him now?"

My Aunt asked the question that I would have done, had I been able to talk around the dummy strapped into my mouth.

"Well I thought that as he's in a pram I'd take him for a perambulation."

Laughter rocked the sides of the pram. Well, the way my Uncle slapped the handlebar when he burst out laughing as his son's word play, did anyway. Meanwhile it took me a bit longer to work out what was meant, and when I did I really didn't feel like laughing at all.

For the next ten minutes or so I just had to lie there, restrained in the pram, listening to all the praise layed on my cousin by his parents, while I sucked on my dummy. Still at least being prevented from talking stopped me from saying how much of this was my idea, rather than Oliver's, which probably wouldn't have helped my situation any.

Anyway, it was something of a relief when Oliver finally released the brake and started to turn me around, although Uncle Mike had to help him, as the patio wasn't all that big and the pram was really heavy, and tricky to turn in the tight circle he needed. It was during this operation that Uncle Mike leaned in really close to the pram and actually thanked me for what I was doing to help give his son some confidence, which was a bit of a surprise as I didn't realise I'd done that, although now it had been pointed out clearly I had. Perhaps a bit too much, as I was going to discover.

Once I was turned, Oliver put the pram hood back up again, before starting to wheel me back down the bouncy path until there was a heftier bounce that could only have been a doorstep, only the outside air around my legs remained so he hadn't gone inside the house. But if not, then where had we gone?

Craning my head against the strap holding my neck, gave me a little bit of a view that had been nothing more than sky, but then there was a flash of ivy covered brick work, followed by more sky. This puzzled me some more until I realised what had happened. Oliver had taken me through the back gate, and we were now in the street.

Instantly I lowered my head, the half an inch which meant I couldn't see where we were going – not that I could really anyway – in the hopes that this would also mean, no one would be able to see me hidden as I was by the pram hood. This would have worked but for Oliver expressing his new found confidence.

"Hey, it's those kids from the park," he said, applying the brake, to lean down as much as he could over the handlebars that was almost at his chest. "I think they go to the school I'm going to be going to in September."

There was a moment's pause, as Oliver stood back upright, before he did something I don't I'd ever seen or heard him do before. He called attention to himself. "Hello, what are you guys up to?"

"Nothing," a defensive voice replied, while a second sneered, "We sure ain't babysitting. That's for girls."

For a second I thought Oliver was going to back down, but he didn't. Instead he said something completely different. He talked to these two lads like they'd known each other all their lives – which they had – and actually been mates. "I'm not babysitting either."

"So that's not your little sister in that pram then?" mocked the second voice.

"It's not. It's someone else."

"But you ain't got any more brothers or sisters. Your mum would have told my mum."

Then Oliver said it. The one thing I really hadn't been expecting. "Why don't you have a look for yourselves then." And with that he dropped the pram hood.

Once more two faces appeared above me, but these were the familiar features of my relatives but rather two boys, or around Oliver's age who I'd only seen once before, and then only briefly. Both of the lad's not surprisingly had looks on their faces that went from surprise, to puzzlement, to shock, to smiles and then, finally laughter.

"It's an older kid, dressed up like a baby," they both told each other, when they realised, before turning to Oliver to bombard him with questions.

"Who is it?"

"How old is he?"

"Why'd you do this to him?"

"What's he wearing?"

"Is that a real nappy?"

"Can he move?"

"Can he talk?"

"What's up with his hands?"

"Where are his legs?"

Oliver let them finish asking before he even attempted to start answering with was , sort of the truth, even if he did give it something of a spin that was, naturally in his own favour.

"It's my cousin Jason. He's thirteen and he's staying with us for a bit. He broke my sister's doll, and seeing that he's the same size, he replaced the doll, so he's wearing the doll's clothes, including the nappy that he can't take off because of the way he's strapped into the pram, nor can he remove the dummy that's stopping him from talking. His hands are wrapped in tape, inside mittens so he can't take anything off, and his legs are underneath, see."

The two boys looked at each other, then down under the pram, then back at Oliver, then down at me, back to each other and finally towards Oliver once more, as they both said a single word. "Wow!"

"Anyway," Oliver broke the silence that followed, "I'd best get his home before he wet himself, again."

"Okay, we'll see you then," the boys retreated, but then returned in a flash, when they realised what Oliver had said, "Wait you mean he wet himself already?"

"Yeah," my little shy cousin shrugged as if it was nothing, "I've already had to change him once."

This prompted more questions: "You changed his nappy?" and "He LET you change his nappy?"

"He was wet so I changed him, plus he didn't have much choice did he?"

"WHat a wimp!" the lads commented but this was directed at me rather than my cousin which is where it always had been before. A change that made Oliver beam, although he did well to hide it as he released the brake and we started forwards once more.

We didn't go home as that would have meant Oliver having to turn the pram around on the narrow street, so instead we had to go around the entire block, with Oliver deliberately pushing me as slowly as he could. He also left the hood down so that I was in public view, or at least my head and upper body were. This caught the attention of anyone who happened to be around at that time, which wasn't many but enough so that the story of how I broke Vicky's favourite doll and was now being punished for it by being the doll was repeated plenty of times. Strapped down in the pram with a huge dummy filling my mouth, I was in no position to deny it, so just had to accept everything Oliver said, and appear to take it in good fun, as kids did with everything back then.

Eventually though, Oliver started to tire or pushing the heavy pram around and headed back into the garden with that bounce over the step, being a relief this time, as we were finally back in private once more where things could only get better.

"Ah here you are at last," Uncle Mike greeted us at the backdoor, "Vicky's sleeping so try not to make too much noise, and we'll see you two boys in the morning."

It wasn't uncommon for my cousin's family to go to bed much earlier than my own did, no doubt due to them having a little kid, so I was used to being the only one up some evenings, which of course is when I got up to some of my more secret activities. That said, it could well have been later than I imagined for even though I hadn't actually done all that much – mainly due to not being able to move of course – I did feel sleepy.

Oliver on the other hand, was wide awake, and clearly excited by the impression he'd made on his new school mates. Having shown me off like that, cemented his reputation for all time, as clearly to the minds of the other first years, anyone who could get a teenager into a nappy, and then strapped into a pram, clearly wasn't someone to be messed with, even if they did look like they couldn't punch their way out of a paper bag.

My cousin was actually humming as he set about releasing me from the pram. Unfastening the securing ribbons of the dummy, and easing it out of my mouth, so I could heave a sigh of relief, working my jaw from side to side, to get some feeling back into my face.

That done, Oliver set about releasing the rest of my from the various straps, clips and cords that had held me rigidly in place for so long. My legs once more swinging free beneath the pram, and then my thighs could shift from side to side, as the end with the two round slots cut into it was removed.

My arms were unstrapped from the sides of the pram, and the mittens were removed, followed by the tape that had held my fingers into a fist for nearly the entire day. My fingers cracking slightly as I straighten them out.

Finally, the clips were removed from the harness so that I was able to sit up. BUt once more the baby harness remained in place, as instead of removing it, Oliver helped me shuffled down the pram, until me feet made contact with the floor and I was able to stand up, albeit still shakily, once more.

I was still tucked in behind the handlebars of the pram, but Oliver helped support me while I attempted to duck down underneath them, only to fall flat on my bum. Not that I felt it, of course, given just how thickly I was padded down there, but it did make Oliver laugh. A lot. But the laugh was infectious as I was well aware of just how ridiculous the entire situation must have been, so it wasn't long that I was laughing along with him, even if it did make my still stiff jaw, a little sore to do so.

"Come on, let's get you up to bed. We've a lot to do tomorrow before you go home."

Helping me up to my feet after pushing the pram out of the way, Oliver continued to support me as we made our way into the house and up the stairs, with me hanging onto the banister on one side, and my cousin on the other, as I struggled to walk in the oversized nappy I was still wearing.

At the top of the stairs, Oliver put his finger to his lips to remind me to be quiet, by that just made me giggle like a little kid as every time I moved, there was a series of crinkles and crackles from the rubber pants I had on, and which I could do nothing about. All the same we went as quietly as we could along the corridor past his parent's room, past Vicky's room, but then instead of continuing towards either his room, or the one I was using, Oliver turned me towards a door, I'd only been in a few times, when I was up to no good. The nursery.

The door was open, so naturally I looked at where we were going, instantly noticing that the set up was slightly different from when I'd last been in there earlier that day to get the first nappy I'd worn. Now the centre rug was no long empty but instead had a large cot sat in the middle of it. One that was fitted with a formidable collection of restraints.

"You like it?" Oliver leaned in to whisper to me as he urged me forward with a few soft pats to my expanded seat.

Once inside the room, Oliver turned to softly close the big heavy door behind us, as quietly as he could. Holding the handle down, until the door was closed, so that it would neither bang nor click.

"I thought you'd prefer to spend the night in here, instead of your room," he said once we were in no danger of being overheard.

"Why?" was all I could say, as I didn't trust my voice just yet.

Oliver walked passed me to the cot, where he lowered the large railed sides down to the level of the high rise mattress, pulling the straps out of the way as he did so, "You like this sort of stuff don't you?"

I didn't answer that of course, as no boy my age was ever going to incriminate himself quite that easily. NOt that I needed to as Oliver already knew the answer. "I know you do as I've seen you with the nappies and stuff before, but that's okay. You helped me out so now I can help you out!"

I wasn't sure I was following so asked: "How so?"

"What you did teaching me all that boy stuff, and letting me show off to the lads from my new school."

That was news to me, but I let it go, choosing not to say anything, but instead to see where he was going with this.

"Oh and don't worry I knew what my dad was up to as well, getting you over here, and all that, but it doesn't matter it worked out okay in the end didn't it?"

This time I shrugged, which only went to remind me of the baby harness I was still wearing.

"Anyway, so now you don't have to pretend that you're just doing all this stuff just to help me out and can enjoy it."

I wasn't sure what he meant by that, but he soon explained when he saw my confused face.

"What you didn't think I'd notice how much you stared at Vicky's doll and asked about all the stuff Dad made for it. Not to mention how stiff your willy was when I changed your nappy in the garage."

I must have looked shocked at that, as it wasn't something we'd talked about before but Oliver just laughed.

"What you think I'm a little kid too. I know all about that stuff and how good a stiff willy feels so come on, get up onto the cot so we can get you settled for the night."

"All night?" I blurted, hopeful of a change from the previous subject, especially as everything Oliver had said, had been true.

"Yeah, all night. Mum and dad are already in bed and won't think to look for you in here. Plus I'll lock the door so Vicky can't come in, before I come and let you out in the morning so you've got loads of time get yourself back to normal before you go home tomorrow."

It seemed that he'd tought of everything, up to and including a little step so that I could get my big padded bum up onto the mattress of the cot, were I sat before spinning myself around and laying down.

"Right make yourself comfortable, and I'll make sure you can't fall out."

Surprisingly for something with such a thin mattress as the cot appeared to have, laying down on it, felt remarkably soft, even if there was the now familiar crinkle of a plastic coating between the sheet covering it and the mattress itself.

FOr a few minutes I got to stretch out in all directions for which there was plenty of room as the cot, just like everything else that had been found for Vicky's doll, was enormous. There was plenty of space for a thirteen year old boy to lay down flat on his back, with a good few inches at both top and bottom even if I really wasn't going to be needing it, as I wasn't going to be doing much moving at all.

Once I was settled, Carl set about restraining me. Spreading my legs apart, towards the sides of the cot, he buckled straps around each ankle, and then tied them down to the bottom corners holding my legs out straight in a V shape.

Next a strap, much like long wide belt came up from under the cot and went over my tummy, holding my mid section down with little room to move to either side, especially once this strap was also fastened to the bottom of the harness around my lower chest.

There were two more straps fastened to the top corners of the cot, matching those that now held my ankles. These came down and were clipped onto the D rings on the harness, before being tightened, in a way that pulled my upper body upwards, until I was close to being stretched out, but not quite, as it was still well within the realms of comfort.

Finally, my arms were laid down my sides. The upper parts were attached to the sides of the harness around my chest, while the wrists were buckled down to the strap that was already running over and across my stomach, but at the sides of my body, on the mattress so there would be no way I could reach anything, to release myself.

"Right then, before you settle down for the night, you need a nice drink," Oliver announced before leaving the room for a second only to return a moment later with two large baby bottles, complete with a teat that would soon be ending up in my mouth.

I sucked noisily at the bottles in turn until both were empty, and I felt like I was bloated with water which was when the dummy was put back in my mouth, seemingly to make sure that I didn't over flow. At least from that end.

The huge soft rubber bulb pushed deep inside, between my teeth until the face plate was flush against my lips, and held there, as the ribbons attached to it were tied off until I was completely silenced.

"There that will do it," Oliver stepped back, raising up the bars at the side of the crib, as he did so, until they locked into place with a series of loud clicking sounds, as if I was being locked into a jail cell, which in a way is exactly what was happening.

The light was snapped off, as Oliver left me there, the door closing, with the snap of a lock which at least meant I wouldn't be seen by anyone else, even if it also meant that I wasn't going to be getting out of there.

I lay there listening to the sounds of the house, until they faded as Oliver went to his own room at which point I felt totally and utterly alone and helpless.

Slowly I tested the straps that held me, but there was not surprisingly no give in any of them. They all remained totally taut around me, holding me exactly where I was.

I tried to make sounds. Softly at first, but then louder, but that too made no difference as I could get nothing past the dummy strapped into my mouth, all of which only went to leave me panting from exhaustion, until I returned to relaxing in the state that I now found myself in.

The hours passed slowly, mainly as I had no way of knowing what the time was, as I was faced away from the window, which would have shown me nothing but night anyway. I think I drifted in and out of sleep for a while however, until the pressure started to mount in my bladder, and the inevitable happened.

A flood of wee gushed into my nappy, sending the warm liquid into every fold of my skin, but especially down and around my bottom, in a way that wasn't entirely unpleasant as I slipped once more back into a strangely blissful sleep, haunted though I was, by the thought that tomorrow, I would have to go back to being a 'normal' teenage boy.

The events that happened over those few days back in the 1970s were never really repeated and in fact were never even talked about during any of the occasions where we all met up again, so it's no surprise that I sometimes wonder if they even happened. Yet I remember them all so clearly.

In the morning, Oliver released me from the cot, making sure the way was clear for me to get into the bathroom before I removed the now heavily soaked nappy that I'd slept in. He then handed me back my regular clothes and we both went down to breakfast, as if we'd just woken up from a normal night's sleep.

Nothing much else happened that morning, as I really feeling quite tired, not to mention quite a bit stiff from being restrained for nearly the entire previous day, until it was time for me to leave for my own home. So I left it up to Oliver to help Uncle Mike put the head back on the doll, and tidy up whatever mess we'd made, in the nursary.

However, just before I left, two things happened. The first was that Uncle Mike took me to one side and again thanked me for the worked I'd done on Oliver, while, my cousin himself, somehow managed to slip the instant photos he'd taken into my bag, for me to discover and keep, at home for many years to come. I still get them out from time to time, whenever I feel the need to relive one of more of the things that happened.

Vicky would eventually grow out of having dolls, and would eventually go on to become a mechanic of all things. Oliver, well, he not only fitted in at his new grammar school, where his reputation as a 'teen tammer' ensured his safe passage through the bear pit of two tier education, but lead to him becoming Head Boy by the time he left. After which he met a girl, got married, and became every bit as boring as he had been as a little kid.

As for me, well I did continue with interests similar to those that happened that weekend, especially when I managed to meet up with Shaun Malone, once more, where for once I was able to teach him a thing or two. But, just what we got up to, can wait for another time.

The End