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Not many people knew about 'The Center' and that's the way they liked it. The Center is a private boarding house for the kids of celebrities and other VIP's when their parents are away. I had only been there six days, and I was feeling homesick already. My parents aren't famous, but they are rich, and currently they were in Japan overseeing the construction of their latest business. They were going to be gone for four months, but I'd only be in The Center for another week, until my 18th birthday. Then I could go home and stay by myself.
"What are you doing up?" Sharon asked, taking a seat on the edge of my bed. She works the night shift, and is my favorite staff member as she makes me feel better when I'm upset
"I... I just woke up." I stammered, not wanting to tell her the truth.
"Did you pee the bed again?" She asked, and started to pull my covers off me. I nodded a 'yes' before she finished exposing my wet pajamas. "Okay, come on, let's get cleaned up." I got up and headed for the bathroom, but she steered me the other way, out of my assigned bedroom, and down the hall. All of the rooms were numbered in order: 101, 102, 103, etc. We turned a corner as the numbers got higher and stopped at a door numbered 125, with the blue wheelchair symbol below it that I knew was the handicap symbol.
Sharon opened the door, and turned on the lights, illuminating a room twice the size of the one I had just left. "The mattress on that bed is waterproof, so I'm going to reassign you to this room."
"But, that's a crib!" I moaned, pointing at the steel-framed bed on the far wall.
"Yes, I know, but this is our only special needs room." Sharon said, and patted my back reassuringly. "It'll be okay, I promise."
Other than the crib, it looked like a nice room. The floor was carpeted with thick, soft carpet that felt comfy under my toes, and there was a big entertainment center with my own TV and video game system... which would be way better than sharing the equipment in the 'family room' with the other kids. There was also a lot of toys, from blocks, to cars and board games. Stuff for all ages. Maybe I could deal with a crib in order to have this room!
"In here." Sharon said, and pushed me gently through the bathroom door. The bathroom, like the bedroom, was considerably larger than my old room, and was of an open design. Instead of an enclosed shower there was a large bathtub in the center of the room and an open shower in the corner, with a drain under it built into the tile floor. On the back wall stood a toilet with a raised seat, and a sink and vanity. "Over here." Sharon announced, and patted a large padded table on the wall to my right. It was a changing table.
"Why?" I asked, thinking I should be heading for the bathtub to clean up.
"There are rules I have to follow for residents of the special needs room." Sharon explained as she thrust her hands under my armpits and hoisted me up onto the table as if I weighed nothing at all. She was strong! She pushed me down onto the table, and held me there by placing her left hand firmly on my chest. "Stay still now." She instructed sternly. Using her right hand she grabbed my left wrist and slipped it into a padded leather cuff by my head. Before her action registered in my brain she had a firm grip on my right wrist and was binding it with a similar cuff.
"What are you doing?!" I finally managed to ask, almost yelling.
"This is just until you get used to things." Sharon said gently, and kissed me on the forehead. a leather strap was stretched over my belly, then buckled tightly to the table. "There now, all secure." She commented, then moved down toward the end of the table and pulled my wet pajama bottoms off. "Very wet." Sharon concluded as she peeled my soaked boxers off my body.
My mind was racing any my heart pounding as I watched her toss my pants into a laundry basket, and my boxers into the garbage. Reaching under the table she pulled out a washcloth, and went over to the sink to wet it.
"I can clean myself, please!" I cried as she lowered the warm cloth onto my private parts and began to wash me.
"Sorry Baby, rules are rules." She said soothingly and continued her work. Tears fell from my eyes as I sobbed and she cleaned. "It's okay, It's okay..." She kept telling me as she lifted my legs high into the air and washed my bottom. "... I know it's not your fault, but the rules say if you wet the bed three or more times in a row you have to be moved to special needs. You've wet five nights in a row, so I've already given you more chances than I'm supposed to." By the time her speech was done she had put down the washcloth, and was drying me with a second cloth. "To be honest, you're the first person to be put in this room. Most of our clients are used to being away from home and adjust to things just fine."
"I'm sorry!" I cried, feeling like a total loser.
"It's not your fault!" Sharon assured me. "Your parents haven't been rich long, so you didn't grow up the way the rest of those spoiled brats out there did. You just need more personal attention." Her words calmed me a little, and I saw her point. I had, after all, clung to her side every night since I had gotten to The Center.
"Now honey, don't freak out, this is for your benefit." Sharon's warning confused me, but not for long as she reached under the table again and produced a light-blue colored disposable diaper.
"No!" I moaned, more tears forming around my eyes, but Sharon gave me a look of pitty and shoved the back of the diaper under my bum.
"You'll find it more comfortable than wet pants." She assured me. I watched with horror as she sprinkled baby powder on my penis and balls, then folded the diaper over my crotch and taped the back to the front with the tabs on each side of the diaper. Sharon patted the front of my diaper then pulled something else from under the table. "Just until you learn to go along with things." She said with a gentle smile, then pulled a strip of duct tape from the roll and stretched it across the front of the diaper, securing the brief even more than the small tape tabs had. "DON'T try and take this diaper off, or I'll be required to punish you according to the discipline policy you signed when you got here." She warned me. "Please don't make me have to spank you." She added sincerely.
Sharon unbuckled the strap at my waist, then uncuffed my hands. I stretched out the stiffness in my arms, then wiped the tears from my eyes. "Hopefully I won't have to tie you down anymore." She commented. I got down from the table and looked down at the thick diaper between my legs.
We walked back into the bedroom, and I watched as Sharon lowered the bars on the crib bed. "I'll have your things moved over here in the morning, but you'll have to sleep in just that top and diaper. Did your shirt get wet at all?" I examined my pajama top and found it dry, and told her so. "Good, into bed then." Tired and confused I decided not to argue and hoped up into the crib. Sharon pulled the covers up, tucking me in.
"I'm going to leave the bars down, but I want you to stay in bed and try to get some sleep!"
"Morning boy." Sam said, patting my chest to wake me up. Samantha, who everyone called Sam, worked the morning shift and was a by-the-book kind of lady. She wasn't mean, but she made it clear that things that were expected to be done would be done. "In the bathroom." She demanded, pulling the covers off me. Without complaint I jumped down out of bed and waddled into the bathroom.
"On the table." Sam instructed. I hoped up and laid down on the table. She started to reach for the restraints...
"I'll be good!" I promised. "Please don't use those!"
Sam dropped the cuff she had picked up, and gave me a stern look of warning. As I laid there silently, She rolled a cart over to the table that I hadn't noticed the night before. She must have brought it in while I slept. From the tray atop the cart she plucked a pair of scissors and ran them down the sides of my disposable, cutting the duct tape and diaper at the same time.
"You didn't wet?" She asked, examining the dry diaper she had just pulled out from under me.
"No ma'am, I wet the bed before I was diapered." I admitted shamefully.
"Fine." Sam replied, and pushed the cart aside. "No need to clean you up then. Why don't you use the toilet, and brush your teeth. I'll lay your clothes out for you."
As Sam left the room, I looked over at the sink and saw my toothbrush sitting in a cup, with my toothpaste sitting next to it. I opened the vanity to find my other toiletries inside - deodorant, nail clippers, allergy medicine, and other little items. I must have slept soundly if someone had managed to stock my room without waking me! I brushed my teeth and combed my hair.
"Did you use the toilet?" Sam asked as I walked back into the bedroom.
"Didn't need to go." I answered softly, a little embarrassed to discuss things that were considered private at home.
"Back in there." Sam said sternly, and led me into the bath with a hand on the back of my neck. She reached for something in her cart, then led me over to the toilet. "Bend over and spread your legs." Nervously I did as she demanded, but I yelped as I felt her finger push something inside me. "Just something to help you go." She said with a softness I hadn't heard from her before. "Now sit there until you go." I sat on the cold toilet. Sam watched me for a minute with crossed arms, then got bored and left me alone again.
I felt silly, sitting on the potty when I didn't have to go. Five minutes passed. Then ten, then fifteen. Then.... I felt the urge grow quite quickly, and with just a little push everything came out. Whatever she had stuck in me had done it's job! I wiped, washed my hands and went back to the bedroom.
"Bend over" Sam instructed, leaning me over the side of the crib bed. She swiped my bottom with a moist baby wipe, then pronounced me sufficiently clean with a "Good Boy." On the bed I saw a set of my clothes: jeans and a red t-shirt with a rock band's logo on it. Also there was a pair of socks, and some sort of underwear. "Just a little safety net." Sam said, picking up the padded brief and handing it to me. "You haven't wet during the day yet, so I'm not going to diaper you... but you should wear this training pant just in case."
I took the pant from her and examined it for a minute. It was shite, and looked like regular underpants with a fake fly sewn on the front, but I could feel a plastic layer just below the cotton outside, and it had a thick center layer that ran from the waist band to half way up the back. "No, I don't need this!" I complained and handed the pant back to Sam, who didn't look pleased.
"OW! Stop!" She pounced like a tiger, turning me around and bending me over the bed again. She slapped my cheeks hard with her hand and I cried out in protest.
"Are you ready to put these on now?" She asked, holding the training pant out to me again. I was rubbing my bottom and managed a weak "Yes Ma'am" between sobs. "Good, get dressed, then you can go back with the other kids and do whatever you want.
As Sam was leaving I heard her mumble "Gesh, seventeen and still behaves like a baby, no wonder his parents set him here." I kind of got her point, I was the oldest "kid" in The Center by several years, and I had always been a bit of a baby.
TO BE CONTINUED
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