Extract from a treatise on the purity of unwed maidens, reverend Justice Smith,1730

Having established in the paragraphs previous the horrid extent to which even ladies of high social and moral standing are becoming, in the crudest terms, led astray from the behaviours and standards civil society expects, it is incumbent on me in these closing words to offer a solution.

To do so I would take only a moment to reflect on the societal duty of unwed women of noble birth- pure, demure, innocent in all regards. These are the traits demanded of our maidens to be seen as upstanding citizens.
My proposal is simple. If clothes maketh the man (which as wisdom received is surely so), why not maketh woman?
And which garment reflects these traits of purity and innocence more than an infants nappy? Truly how could a lady maintaining this garment do ought but live up to the nature symbolised by them?

For those with concerns of a practical nature, fear not, the wide skirts that are our fashion (compounded by basic biology) already make the assistance of handmaids a necessity for basic bodily functions, so the changing of a nappy presents little more in the way of inconvenience than our current arrangement nor should it lead to any impropriety among sexes. Furthermore, after inquiries made with my chambermaid, there should indeed be adequate room for concealment in an upper-class ladies’ skirt.
In summary, the maintaining of girls in nappies through to and during their period of courting would provide a simple, yet effective method of assuring their moral fibre, chastity and social duty.

---

Account of Lilly Hargreaves, handmaid 1770

Of course I remember the first time I heard about it. I was sorting out miss Elizabeth's laundry. Next thing I know I'm called in the masters study. Which is a bit out of the ordinary. I was miss Elizabeth's personal maid after all. I arrive and bow my head like I know I should and the next thing he does is ask me if I know of A reverend Justice Smith.
Well, our parish vicar is Father Lowhaven, so I say "No sir, can't say I have."
He then rambles on about this book of moral philosophy he's written, and he says that young maidens of virtue should have no use of the outhouse. Well at this I couldn't help myself. I exclaimed that I with all due respect what exactly did the reverend expect?
The master said something I didn't get the words of, but I got the tone. Basically, don't be thick, know your place, he's talking about his daughter Elizabeth. Of course he was. I'm her maid.
He asked if I'd had any experience as a nanny. I said no, sir, seeing as I'm still young myself.
He grunted a bit at this and said something about arranging some instruction. Long and the short, I was to help miss Elizabeth with her needs in this regard. I didn't dare ask what he meant by this and after I flew as fast as fast as my legs would take me to her chamber.
She wa' in a right state! Crying her eyes out. I tried my best to comfort her some, and try an' understand what her father had meant. But she wouldn't stop sobbing. Eventually, she hitched up her skirt, and she was wearing a nappy, just layers and layers of towel pinned on her, like a baby. Well I couldn't help but gasp.
Well, turns out her father had the same conversation. Sent her up to her chambers, said it was happening for her own good. That she were to put it on, then only me or another of the staff were to change it from now until she married. And she were to use it too!
Well, at this she started sobbing again and I tried to console her, saying I could sneak her to the outhouse. It'd be our secret.
Then she kinda perked up. She said no, if she was going to be a good wife, she'd have to be a good daughter. If that's what her father thought was best, she was nearly through her teen years, marriage would be soon.
Then she stood up with a purpose, proper straight like. Her hand resting on the back of her chair. Then she started shaking. Her leg started bouncing. She scrunched up her face.
It only then clicked what she was doing! She was actually using it!
She lifted up her skirt and told me she needed a change. It was all yellow!
Well, I was sure she wanted to get out of it right away. Only I didn't know where any of the things for it were! So she just had to stand there while I went all over asking all the other staff where the nappies for miss Elizabeth were. Only most others didn't know and looked at me like I was crazy! I thought I was crazy!
Anyway, eventually all the other high standing girls ended up in them. It became normal. Wake up miss Elizabeth, give her a cuppa, then change her nappy. Make sure her next one is warming by the fire. The messy one comes after her morning walk in the garden.The times before became strange to think of. Of course they already do so many things different to us folk, it was just another thing different. And I tell you it was much better than helping her use the chamberpot under umpteen petticoats and hoops. Much less stressful. Few years later any well-off girl who didn't wear nappies was an oddity. Slightly off, like. You hear rumours of a few dignitaries now who never re-took to the chamber pots, but that's all hush-hush and none of my business.
And any new maid comin' into the house, they'd never think there was a different time! They just come in expecting to be changing nappies of grown women! It's part of the status. They gossip about imagining THEY had money and dinners and fancy dresses, jewels and butlers and maids who change nappies.
And so I was one of the first maids to do it in the country, now training the next lot to do the same. I dare say that they're a damn sight better than I was when I first started.

---

On training girls for nappies, pamphlet circulated in London aprox 1735

The approach should be two fold.
Firstly, you must make it clear that they are being reintroduced to nappies not as a punishment but as part of their moral instruction. The undressing and lifting of skirts in another man's house is improper, scandalous even. A nappy allows for changing in the safe confines of their own chambers. A girl should be pure, innocent and chaste, and her current undergarments do not support such imperatives. Soft, white, warm nappies however symbolically and literally cover her sin in protection.

Furthermore, the act of being changed is much more akin to the role of a woman, reliance and
subservience, than the ghastly acts unladylike behaviour that accompany a lady relieving herself in full dress. Impress upon her that only full use will keep her on the path of a good woman.

---

Diary of Lady Rochester, 1742
I am growing most accustomed to the process, as it were. The warm, spreading feeling, it is becoming that of security. Especially sitting through long dinners, such as when the boorish Earl will recount for hours the tediums of whatever hunt he has recently been on. It was practically painful to hold until I found an opening to leave the table, then I had to ask Clarissa to hold my skirts in place… I do not now fully recall how I managed at all, although I know full well I did.
It has also allowed me to become the perfect hostess. Attentive to all without inconvenient respite.
It appears however that I am not the only one in the house appreciating the return of a childhood garment. Clarissa, though only a housemaid confided in me she too has begun to wear, as have some of the other housemaids! In their own way, apparently, they too struggled to find opportunity, so they have taken to nappies in their line of work. They apparently change each other, when they find the time.
She lifted her skirt for me to allow me to inspect while I was laid for my own change. She even confided she gets a thrill from "messing" (as she indelicately put it) during certain tasks. I feel I empathise. There is something stimulating about the warmth and feel of it.
None of them have revealed it to father, as they fear it may be seen as improper or not of their station. I promised to keep their secret, as I support their endeavour. Although goodness knows how they hide all that cloth with no hoop to their dresses.
I think, perhaps, although I could not admit it, I am envious of those other maids who change Clarissa. Her changing of me feels so intimate, as I lay back and hitch up my skirts. As she tenderly washes me down with warm flannels and cleans my messes with care and cheer… I think perhaps I feel as if I should be able to return that moment.
A ridiculous notion I know, I never would have felt the same prior to our shared return to nappies. But still, the feeling lingers.

---

Letter to local paper, unpublished, 1765

Yesterday I was sitting in my gardens, adjacent to the road, when through the hedge I heard two young ladies (both sounding no older than their early twenties) talking. I thought little of it as I often hear snippets of conversation but for these I heard a good amount as they apparently stopped by chance where I was sat. I therefore heard this whole exchange:
"Gemma, please stop, I think I'm about to…"
"It's okay m'lady. It's not uncommon for us to pause. Do you expect to want a change right away?"
"It's not that Gemma. We are alone. Do you think you could...indulge me?"
"Of course m'lady. Lift up your skirts. Show me your nice clean nappy."
"Y-yes. My nappy."
"Oh yes. Very good m'lady. You show off your nappy to your lowly maid Gemma in this nice outdoor place. You can't go being embarrassed about wearing your nappy."
"I'm going to wet my nappy, Gemma. I'm going to let go…"
"There m'lady. Let me put a reassuring hand over it. You do like that warm feeling, spread all over your nappy, don't you?"
"I do. I like making my nappy warm and squishy. I love letting it all go in my nappy. I love wetting myself and having my maid tell me what a good girl I am. I love being changed as you squish my nappy..."
"You do, don't you, m'lady? How about I pin up your dress to leave it nice and exposed while we walk down this nice quiet road, hmmm? I'm sure no one will see you… I take it by how red your face is getting you like that idea, don't you m'lady?"

At this point, I have little idea what to make of this! But hope that your editor could shed some light to whatever it is that happened!

---

Extract from On the plague of incontinent wives, Anon,1778

The rise of the choice to not train girls in the arts of toileting is well known, but shall briefly be recounted.
As the nobility led the way in this front, being thoroughly persuaded in their reading and most concerned and vexed in the rise of immoral behaviours, they decided that all girls up to the stage of being wed should be wearing the undergarment previously associated with infants : a nappy.
So well was this treatment taken to, that even persons of the middle and occasionally even lower classes had begun to emulate their betters, in a most affirming case of moral action I have bore witness to.
Surely the lower classes should be commended in their swift adoption of this simple remedy to a moral ailment that afflicted them even worse than our own ranks! That so many saw fit to take this step, although they had not the convenience of handmaids or washerwomen that we enjoyed as we embarked on this undertaking speaks only to the nobility and resilience of those we would call under us.

With this said, I was charged to find why so many of these women of lower birth were continuing to eschew toilets well into their married life, much to the consternation of their husbands, or oft those who keep such women in our employ.
Well, my first response was rather than condemn such behaviour, was to undertake a survey, and having done so I find many of their reasons to be just- I find myself able to approve of this behaviour more and more.

Many spoke to me first of convenience, a point I in my standing had failed to consider entirely. The work of such women, the work of most women is in the houses of their husbands, and entails much sedentary labour for hours at a time at a single station.
For these women, convenience was to be found in the ability to not break from their task- and found that the nappies of their unwed days allowed them to attend readily to the chores their husbands expect of them. To this I can see logic, any interruption to my writings can slow me greatly beyond the initial interruption. One's focus of mind can make light work- and broken focus make heavy- any task, no matter how menial.

Second, such women told me of seeing use of outhouses as now a masculine endeavour. Places of low cleanliness and rank stench. Those of the poor, unlike our own, are indeed unfit for the fairer sex. They asserted that nappies presented a warm, comfortable garment to be changed at leisure, while only men would endure odour, indignity and cold night air to relieve themselves.

Final responses spoke of a difficulty. Learning control of their bladders and bowel presents great difficulty at any age, but learning this craft in adulthood presents much greater stakes when the garments to be soiled are one of a meager selection that are much too costly to replace. I am sure we are familiar with the sight of a newlywed woman excusing herself from dinner or other function as dark stains pervade the front of their gowns and a puddle grows by their feet. This is with the constant assistance of the staff and resources that come with high standing!
If our own women struggle so, you can imagine the difficulty faced by poor women in their endeavours is so great, that they cannot afford the cost of attempts.

My closing thoughts are that the "plague" of such women is actually the results of a noble effort. We should not deride or dismiss the results of noble action even if it does not achieve the same outcome as we?
I would much rather see the sight of bulging frocks of wed women than those stained beyond salvage or worse that they stop in the cause all together due to our unthinking chastisement of their plight.

---

Account from the diary of Duchess of Wessex, entry dated March 1820

As disgusted as I was from my daughter Annabel and I being coated head to toe in mud, the most vile smelling muck, flung at us from the most imbecile coach drivers. I could not be more horrified and embarrassed as to what occured next.
When we scurried inside through the back entrance, and we disrobed ourselves in the porch so as to be quickly rid of our mud soiled garments I realised that while under my own dress was a thick layer of nappy toweling, my daughter wore thin, plain cotton knickerbockers!
The contrast was alarming to say the least! I felt utterly humiliated! Annabel seemed thoroughly unphased that she should seemingly be a toilet trained child and her own mother not be! Upon questioning as to why she had been taught the use of chamber pots at all, and not kept in nappies as I, she explained that her nanny had said that she could have nappies at her 10th birthday, but not before.
Lawrence seemed entirely unconcerned with this revelation as I came matching into his study clad in nappy and corset as his daughter towed behind in knickerbockers and a chemise, our hair still sodden from the incident, as I demanded an explanation. I, however, will likely not forget how utterly humiliating that moment felt.
I could not even keep my nappy dry through my argument. A fact that I'm sure Anabel noticed.

---

From a letter to a friend, Susan Birch, 1832

I simply could not impress upon father the importance of it! According to him I was from a long line of women who could use the latrine, and no amount of cajoling would change his mind!
Nevermind protecting my moral well being! Never mind that all girls: from the princesses in the palace to the washerwoman who visits all do! Casey, I do love my father, but he is the most mule-headed at times!

Well, do you know what I did Casey? I took matters into my own hands! If my father was not going to let his teenage daughter wear a nappy, then I would simply act as if he had!
I stood up, looked him in the eye, and wet!
I would have to have gotten used to it regardless, if I'd gotten my way. Still, it was all rather startling!
I don't think father realised what I was up to until the front of my skirts were near sodden, so it felt like forever I was just standing there feeling this most peculiar warm, wetness soak through my knickers, run down my legs and puddle by my feet. It was quite exhilarating. Is it like that with a nappy on too, Casey? I imagine the warmness stays with you a bit longer but feeling my knickers and petticoats cling to my skin was a very new sensation!
I felt like I was joining the ranks of padded females, weeing myself so freely! No seclusion, no shame, just freedom!
I dare say father didn't know what to make of it. He sent me to my rooms, so I'm still sitting in my sodden skirt writing you this letter. Wriggling into the clinging wet fabric, imagining my skirt layers are like a nappy, savouring every sensation of it… oh I do hope he see’s sense Casey. I can't bear to be the only girl around without them.
If not, maybe I'll see how he reacts to some bigger messes.

---

An overview of nappy wearing in the 18th and 19th centuries, Dr Simpel, 1982

How the phenomenon spread to boys is less intuitive in today's age.
Throughout the Victorian period, boys were not treated as men-to-be. Children were an underclass, like women, and thus it was entirely acceptable for them to be clothed in dresses, ruffles and lace. These were not effeminate garments, these were childrens garments- they were not to be dressed in the clothes of men and women until they neared their teenage years.
However this mindset is only part of the puzzle- the other simply being that the female population had been deskilled in such matters.
With the father expected to be above all matters of child rearing it became a matter of course that young boys were kept in nappies along with their sisters throughout childhood - there was no one to teach them otherwise.

Rather than admit to these stern figures that their sons were not toilet trained and they may need to take direct action, mothers and nannies simply taught boys to change their own nappies, and hoped for the best.
So although they shed the clothes of childhood, a growing number of men wore a garment so recently considered exclusively feminine.

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The Robert Swinder Stories, Edmund Wright, 1903 (serialised fiction)

"You know I can't, Lucy", Robert pleaded, "not while Father is home. Father doesn't know I use nappies. Look, Mums hid them under some shorts. Thinnest she could find…"
"What's the point of thin nappies?" Lucy asked, "My mum puts me in like 3 layers so I don't have to come home until supper…"
"It's different for you, Lucy, you're a girl. Girls are supposed to wear nappies. Boys aren't!"
"My little brother wears nappies!" Lucy retorted.
"That's different," Robert explained, absentmindedly re-buttoning his shorts. "He's a baby. But boys aren't meant to do those things!"
"But you do Robby. You love wearing nappies! You never smile as much as when you have a squishy mess in your pants! And your mums never had a problem with it before. She'll let us get changed together if we're near leaking or went swimming or something and you seem like a boy to me."
"Yeah well. Not according to Father… nappies are for girls, not for young men…"
"Well that hardly seems fair!" Lucy pouted, kicking a pebble indignantly. You're the only other kid my age in the village, and I don't see why we can't both wear nappies just because you're a boy!"

---

Hushed Chambers, K.C. Williams, 2005 (genre: Historical fiction set 1917)

"But I don't want to! Why can't I use the potty anymore?" I whined.
"All the other kids in school will be, darling. The nuns say it's for the best that all boys go to school in nappies. You don't want to be the only kid trying to hold it all day, do you sweet pea?" My mother tried her best to be soothing, but there was a pressing urgency fueling my defiance, my sudden need to go back to easily removable underwear.
"But I've gotta go poo!" I was bouncing up and down, my hands pressing to the rear of the unfamiliar bulk
"It's okay darlin' let it all out. There we go! Fill your nappy up nice and full then mummy will give you a change." Her calming words washed over as I reluctantly gave in to the mounting pressure. Each push gave way to panic, stopping the flow of mess for only a moment before I again lost the battle to the spreading mush covering my backside.
A feeling that would become all the more familiar as my school career went on. The growing warm mass around my behind followed by the relief as the weight of it settled into my nappy.
My mother merely held me and re-assured me. Telling me how proud of me she was of her little man. Stroking my hair. It all seemed very strange at the time, but the start of term would make me eternally grateful she had.

---

Geography for Ks2, 2003 (Textbook)
The advent of the British beach holiday also had an impact on the societal standards of the day.
While every knew the nappy checks and changes were a part of life, they had always been dealt with discreetly and secretly. Only children had nappies on display in public.
But with the beach holiday, suddenly everyone, of all ages and classes were suddenly in an environment much less skittish about it. The changing hut was still a common sight, but it no longer took much imagination to see the sag of a wet nappy, or the bulge of a messy one. Checking family members padding was now a pretty care-free affair, as was the open display of whatever state their nappy happened to be in.

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Hippies in nappies- how the 60s changed our fashion forever,1989

And so a lot of previously held societal expectations began to be questioned. Why shouldn't men wear floral patterns and colours? Why should a woman's skirt be a certain length? Why must men be restricted to trousers?
Why wear lower garments at all? Why could nappies themselves be a fashion statement? And why could men and women not mingle, and change each other?

The photograph of a woman, clad only in flowers and her nappy, changing the nappy of similarly clad man is perhaps one of the most revolutionary and pervasive photographs in our culture. While tie-dye nappies may have fallen out of fashion, the free, unshackled spirit of the 60s continues on.

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Catalogue advert, Spring 2002 edition

It's spring, which means here at Cushy Clouds we're adding new designs to both our patterned and character lines for the spring season, take a look below:

Currently available in the pattern line

Baby and toddler: Blocks, teddies and dollies, ducks and ducklings (new), bunnies and eggs (new)

Primary: Sunshine, footballs, Daffodils (new), Ghosts [glow in the dark] (new), Ladybugs (new)

Secondary: Spring flowers (new), Waves, skulls (new), zigzag [neon] new, Polkadot

Adult: Lily of the Valley (new), Floral, red check, blue stripe

New character nappies for Spring 2003
Baby and toddler range: sesame street, the tweenies (new), teletubbies

Primary school range- Powerpuff girls (new), Disney Cinderella, Scooby Doo, Pikachu(new), Finding Nemo (new), Spiderman (new)

Secondary school range: Bart & Lisa, South Park (new), Pokemon, Hello Kitty, Harry Potter (new)

Adult: Peter Rabbit, Snoopy, Simpsons [Donut], Tinkerbell (new)

Exclusive: All character prints in the Primary range now available in Secondary sizes in Limited Edition packs!

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Interview with a student on Bristol campus, Bristol university press, 1991

Definitely Bristol has one of the best student night lives in the country, especially if you're into the rave scene. If you walk around Bristol on a saturday night, it's just teens walking around in neon striped nappies, glow stick bracelets and very little else. Even in winter! There's just no inhibitions about any of it.
In the raves everyone just parties hard. The dancing involves so much grinding of nappies and booze. Some girls intentionally go in messy and stay like that all night, just so the boys have something extra to grind against. There's a whole wristband system for it.
Personally, I just stick to booze. I like to get boys to buy me drinks, and then rub the fronts if our nappies together while I wet.
I knew one girl who said she'd go home with anyone who bought her enough drinks to make the tapes of her nappy break on the dancefloor. Didn't always stop her dancing though.

The rise of the disposable - Frederick Hughes-1994
As well as the larger range of fashion the disposable nappy allowed one to wear over it, it also presented a unique opportunity- to be a fashion statement in itself.
The wide range of prints available allowed one to express themselves through their chosen nappy in a way simply undoable in the reign of cloth. Undoubtedly in the summer months, walk down any high street and you will see a dizzying array of colours, patterns and motifs on display from shoppers disregarding outer wear in an effort to beat the heat.

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To Tame A Wild Heart, Janet Junebug, 1986 (Novel, genre: romance)

As he pinned me to the wall, our kisses becoming more fervent, my tongue meeting his I felt his hand reach down and press the front of my nappy. The warm squishy padding pressed against me made me moan involuntarily. I pushed into his touch, rubbing my nappy harder and faster as the intensity of our kiss only increased.
"I feel someone needs a change," he whispered, his breath brushing my ear. I bit my lip.
"Not yet," I urged, shifting so his hand now reached even further back as I continued to grind the front of my nappy against his forearm. I couldn't help but close my eyes, falling still for just a moment as I felt the back of my nappy expand and filling with warm bulky mess. Tthe feel of his hand pushing back, forcing it spread all through my nappy.
He seemed surprised for only moment,
"Is that what we like then?" He taunted, pushing the back of my nappy firmly.
"Nu-uh. I'm just using my nappy. You're the one who made it such a mess. You wouldn't leave me to change all this mess by myself would you?" I grabbed the front of his crotch as I spoke, feeling his enlarged manhood even through his bulky padding.

---

Jane Levi - Documentary - 1990

I suppose it was normal to me. Growing up, I had four older siblings, the eldest 12 years older than me. So when I was 10, she was 22. Including my parents, that was 6 of us in the house. So we were just very unabashed about it all. We'd just walk around in nappies all day long. My mum always wore a bra at least but my sister Alice seemed very unconcerned. We'd sit around the breakfast table, each of us in last night's soggy nappy, talk about the day ahead and then all go to get changed.
Because I was the youngest I was always last to get changed but it also meant I got indulged in getting changed by my siblings. Terry always used to say Mum made him change himself at 7, but she let me get away with it way longer.
I always used to like messing my nappy at the breakfast table, actually. It let me really enjoy the feeling of letting go after a big breakfast, then I just enjoyed squishing it around to spread the warmth and the sensation of it until it was my turn to get changed.
The changing room in our house was great. Being of different ages and varying tastes, we just had a whole wall of shelving filled with diapers. These days I only keep half a dozen packs in, but when I was growing up we had a whole wall covered in shelving with pack after pack. Like an aisle from the store transplanted into your house.
Although, having said that, Terry and Samantha liked to borrow liberally from each other’s packs. I think they thought it was fun for her to have the boy theme and him to go for girly pink butterflies or whatever.
Lazy Saturdays were the best. I never got out of bed until eleven, or changed until noon. I think the vast majority of the leaks I've had were on those. Mum was forever complaining at me for it.

Speaking of leaking, my teens were when I really developed a taste for thick nappies. Overnight nappies were the best I could get, at least twice the thickness of normal nappies. At first overnight nappies only came in white or a few colour patterns, it took them a while to catch up with the range other nappies had, being slightly more niche. I have distinct memories of getting home from school, slinging my school bag in the corner, heading straight to the changing room, taking off my school uniform and changing straight into an overnight nappy. I'd just take a moment to squeeze it between my legs and run my hands over it. Just taking some time to admire how bulky it was between my legs. Then I'd head to the dinner table and start on my homework
Sometimes I'd still have a school shirt on, sometimes I'd sling a T-shirt on, sometimes nothing else at all. There was just something about having such a big nappy on I loved. Not that much hides a nappy that big. I always made a point never to change it until the next morning. I just loved to let it grow as bulky and as squishy as I could.
By the time I was taking my GCSE's, I'd given up on restricting wearing overnight nappies to home. They were definitely noticeable under my uniform. There was no way I could get trousers over them but seeing as our school skirts were knee length, the huge bulge was almost comical. I didn't care. I was happy to be the girl who wore the massive nappies to school. By the time I hit sixth-form, I just started wearing shorter skirts, which looked much more natural. They flared out nicely over my nappy, like I was wearing a petticoat under them (on a few occasions I did that too, it was great. My skirt flared several inches over every chair I sat on). By that point though, everyone was used to it. A few of the year 7's would look at me funny for the first couple of months, especially when I was very wet and the seat of my nappy would sag below my skirt line (which was as often as I could make it), but I got no fuss for it. By the time I was leaving in year 13, I could swear a few girls lower down the school were doing the same. There were certainly a few boys too. They were so easy to spot but I was so proud of them everytime I spotted the waddle and very, bulgingly clear silhouette of their nappy through their trousers.

Of course university was much the same. Five girls living together. Clothes were for lectures or for the club. We settled into topless nudity and complimenting each other's nappy choices within a week. We were complementing how saggy our nappies were and making audible moans when we messed within a month. By November we'd dragged the changing table into the living room and had a communal nappy stash.
There was nothing better than bringing boys round. They never knew where to look, but they sure liked looking!
Incidentally, we held the best house parties. My favourite party trick was saying I was going to make a vodka lemonade, emptying the entire bottle lemonade into my nappy, then I downed the vodka while squishing and kneading the front of my full nappy.
The fizz was fun, it often made me blush. And of course I needed changing right away, all that sugar… there were always volunteers

So yeah, I suppose life well prepared me for my audition.

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Education material- Sex Education and Teen Pregnany Prevention Program (SETPPP)-1991

As an alternative to intercourse, many teens and young adults engage in a pleasurable rubbing of the genitals through the diapers, often referred to as "grinding".
The reasons teens may choose to "grind" are numerous, and may include.
Wishing to avoid risk of pregnancy of STD
Disliking use of contraceptives such as condoms
Being in a position or location where being entirely out of nappies would be inconvenient or impractical [1]
Wanting a shared, pleasurable activity that does not have the intense commitment of penetrative intercourse.
Most who choose to engage in grinding would advise that wet, or the application of lubricant can make the experience more pleasurable, as can the addition of vibrating toys, although neither are necessary.

[1] It should be advised that condoms should not be mixed with nappies, especially disposables, as the friction can cause the condom to split.

My first encounter- blog post- originally posted 2004

She lay there on the changing table, the changing room door locking behind us, her unclasped skirt revealing her moon and star patterned disposable. I realised the obvious.
"You're not wet," I said.
"Well noticed," she bit her lip and held out her arms for me to help her hoist herself up to a kneeling position. From the elevation of the table, I couldn't help but notice her breasts were now on my eye level, or the smell of her perfume. My eyes however got distracted as she teasingly ran them down her body, ending with her grabbing the crotch of her nappy.
"Then why-" it was a stupid, niave thing to ask. Then again I was a stupid, niave sixteen year old.
"Why do you think?" she smiled, edging closer to me, leaning down and kissing me passionately.
I'd kissed a girl or two before, but this was more passionate. She was more confident. As our tongues flailed in the same vicinity, she moved my hand touching her diaper as it grew warmer, expanding and sagging.
There were two ways this could go. She could ask me to change her, in which case I would be seeing how my condom application skills held up in practice or, seeing as she was wet, we might only be going to nappy grinding.
For most teenagers, grinding presents that nice middle ground between mutual masturbation and full blown sex. Honestly, as an adult me and the Mrs will still take a good mushy grind over a screw if the mood strikes us.
However, at that age it was honestly a relief when she threw her arms around me and pulled me onto the changing table. As the plastic met plastic I could feel myself getting hard, pushing against my own padding. It took some experimentation but with some moving and guess-work based on where her nappy sagged, I found the spot to rub against that made her start to moan, and I took that as a good sign. I refuse to believe no one heard us by the end. In between kisses to her neck and fondling her breasts, I start to feel myself arch away from her, as she started to breathe faster and faster between moans.
I collapsed onto her as I came. She didn't seem to mind as she stroked my hair. Her face flushed and beaming.
Nor did anyone comment that after twenty minutes, we both left the changing room in still soiled nappies. It was obvious, but like hell was I changing out of that one before I absolutely needed to.

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Diaper prints for teens [rant] - Youtube - 2005

What the fuck is up with diaper prints for teens these days? Back when I was a teen, you'd have been laughed at for anything more out there than a pattern. Cartoon diaper prints are for kids.
Then they started doing film tie-ins. Star Wars got some. Simpsons got some. Pretty sure titanic got some, though fuck knows they were a failure.
Now, you got dork ass boys walking around with Transformers or some shit and every basic ass teen bitch thinks she's special because she relates spiritually to Cinderella.
Cool. Whatever. That's not what's wrong. Be a dork. What's wrong is last week I saw a group of teenage girls walking around the mall with fucking Elmo on their diapers.
Now, firstly. You're in a mall in fucking March. You're not too cold, you're walking real close to other people, put on a fucking skirt. No one wants to see your messy diaper. Try again when it's August and you're somewhere without A.C.
Now- back to the fucking point- Elmo! These were high schoolers! What the shit!
Who the fuck is making sesame street diapers for high schoolers? I literally stopped and asked them about it.
"Oh, it's not like we watch it or anything. They're just cute!"
Just cute! You’re a teenager!
Anyway, I ended up in the public changing room. My stash was a little low so I thought I'd check out what the vending machine had. Soon became apparent where they'd got them from! In a mall vending machine! Not just Elmo: Winnie the Pooh and Teletubbies too. All in teen sizes!
Cute? Well fuck me. Whole worlds going to shit.

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Memoir of a model- Alice Remmy- 2006

It's often said there are two big transitions across childhood.
The first, that point in primary school, where you stop queueing by the nurse to get your nappy changed, and start learning to properly change your own nappy. The great pride you feel of not needing an adult to tell you when you're too wet. When you can climb yourself onto the changing table, wipe, powder and retape all by yourself. I remember being quite reluctant to learn, personally. I must've been 7 or 8 before my mum finally bribed me with the promise of some Danger Mouse themed nappies. I'm pretty sure every other girl in my class wanted Belle or My Little Pony. I wanted Danger Mouse. I had them on show at every opportunity.

The second one is when you suddenly want someone else to change your nappy again. I remember being 16 and the only gossip worth hearing was who'd snuck into the changing room with who, who'd let who check their nappy. An age where the sleepover gossip was who DIDN'T match their nappy print to their bra.
When the rumour went around that Amelia Simmons let Jake Rushton change her at a house party and she fully took off her dress to do it AND wasn't wearing a bra the common room was scandalized. She had boys flocking around her for weeks.
The first boy (goodness knows girls give each other a hand without fanfare) I snuck into a changing room with was Matthew Heathers. By sixth form I'd started getting the kind of attention that would later lead to my modelling career. It was common knowledge I exclusively changed myself. (Except one house party where I got sloshed and I had to get my friend Lara to do it. Except she changed me into one of her bright pink nappies and I was wearing a neon green skin tight dress that, by design, left the bottom of my nappy poking out. Fashion disaster!)
It was a rainy Thursday. I was determined to not let the rumour mill brand me as a prude. Nor did I want to become some teenage changing conquest. Maybe that contrarian streak was still in me, so instead of finding a boy to change me, I found quiet, reserved Matthew Heathers to get changed by me.
I made sure I had a few buttons undone on my shirt as it happened so he had something to brag about, and I got it off my list.
While these days, it's nothing notable for a girl to take that sort of initiative, back then it gave me a reputation as a forward, somewhat mysterious girl. I must say I liked it.

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Students uniform success - The Observer newspaper- 2007

Uniforms. Considered by some a proud British tradition- others to be an archaic hangover. But the students of Windy Bank secondary school in Hull may have succeeded in a bit of modernization.
"It's boiling in summer," explains Alice, a year 10 pupil, "I only threw on my skirt as I walked through the school gates, and took it off as soon as the bell rang. I didn't care what the teachers said. It was worse for the boys. They were in full trousers an' all."
Standing by the school gates, I watch as hundreds of pupils, clad in white shirts, black school shoes, blue ties and matching nappies come streaming for another day in sweltering June weather.
"As long as they're wearing school colours, I see no reason why in this day and age they shouldn't," Says the head teacher, Mrs Juss. "When they're all in the hall for assembly, I'd say they still all look rather smart. We got a supplier sorted for school colours. Next year we hope to have the school crest on too. Make it a proper part of the uniform.
"I think it's a good thing" one parent told me "More schools should do it. In this weather all the parents don't much bother about having nappies on show, so why should the kids? You watch the T.V. and all these American school kids can wear T-shirts or onesies and nappies to school. It's just how it is these days."

This is being seen by many as a test case, to see if other schools will follow suit.

Perhaps then too with uniforms. Perhaps your air hostess may ditch the pencil skirt? Or in your office? Only time will tell.