Wednesday it was. Afternoon. Don't know the proper date but it was half term so you can probably work it out, if you have to. That was when I found Oscar Hansworth all strapped into a high chair like he was a little baby.

Oscar weren't no baby, though. He was a teenager. More than three years older than me, at almost fourteen but he was sat there, wearing a nappy, with this massive baby's dummy stuffed in his mouth so he couldn't say anything. Not even when he seen I'd caught him, playing pervy games.

I'd been next door, at my Nan's on Camelot Crescent, which has loads of houses what are way too big for the old people that live in them and ain't really the place where folks go peeking over fences. Guess that's why Oscar thought he was safe, doing what he was doing. Cos, even if they did, they'd never have been able to see all the way over to the patio to where Oscar was sat like there wasn't a toilet for miles other than the one taped around his balls and arse. Not that I'd have seen him neither, if it wasn't for the Twat.

That's what I call my little brother. Terry's his proper name, only he's way much more of a twat. He really is, honest. He's nine and thinks he's some sort of football star only he can't play for shit. Some kids have two left feet, but the Twat's got two left legs. He has. Trust me. I'm surprised he can even walk some days. That's why Mum sent him out into the garden, cos of all Nan's china and stuff.

Anyway, with Terry outside, there weren't nothing for me to do, and I think I got bored of all that pretending-to-be-nice-while-trying-to-get-in-Nan's-will crap before Nan died, so I went into the garden too. Course then, with it being the two of us, the little Twat wanted to have a kick-a-bout, even though I'm on the school team and he wouldn't get picked to be a corner flag.

Naturally, I said, "No" and gave him a couple of whacks on his skinny arse, hoping that he'd get the hint, and for once he did.

Now, Nan's garden is enormous. I mean it's nearly as big as all of them on our street put together, even if it is a little overgrown with brambles and stuff down the bottom end, around that greenhouse, Nan has her flowers in. Yet, even though there was miles of grass still left in the middle, eventually, as shit was to shovel, my brother managed to lob the ball right over the fence but at least I got some peace and quiet from his constant commentary about him scoring the winning goal for England, or whatever made up fantasy bollocks he was rambling on about, while the little twat went off to get his ball back.

He was gone for ages, though. Long enough for me to wonder if he'd been kidnapped and chopped up into little bits, by some weirdo or other. Something that he'd probably have enjoyed and which would have served him right, only I'd end up getting the blame, like always, so I went looking for him.

It pissed me off, having to go after him like that, but I cheered myself up by thinking of ways I could make him suffer, when I did get my hands on him.

Maybe I'd give him a wedgie, that was always a favourite. Just shove my hands down the back of his trackies and yank up his undies, until he was squealing that his balls were being crushed even though he was barely nine so didn't really have no balls to start with. Of course, I could always tie him up. That was fun but I think he liked being tied up and stuff, although not in Oscar's league, obviously.

Some boys just like that sort of stuff. Xander told me. They like being tied up and being made to do stuff that boys don't normally do. Terry certainly did. Sometimes he even asks me to tie him up. Dead tight too. And then leave him, for ages. When he ain't even attempting to get away. His twig sticking out the front of his pants, pyjamas or whatever he's wearing. If he's wearing anything, cos Terry likes to be tied up naked more than anything. I don't mind, it's fun watching him wriggle about, especially when I've gagged him and he can't say nothing.

That's why I thought the little Twat was hiding on purpose, just so I'd get mad, and do stuff to him like spank him. Only he ain't really got much of an arse, and it hurts my hand to whack it, so I have to use something else, and I didn't have Mum's old hairbrush with me. Cos that would have look dead weird wouldn't it. An eleven year old boy going around with a big hairbrush, when he ain't got much hair himself, having had it shaved down, cos it was all blond, and made him look like a girl. Not that I looked like a girl. Not never. I've got a dick, and I know what to do with it, to. Just ask Terry!

Anyway, it weren't that it was hard to work out where he'd gone, cos I'd seen him walk right through the fence. Well, not right through it – skinny as he is, he ain't no ghost – but up to a bit behind this bush, where there was a bit missing, and wriggled his skinny little arse through to the other side.

Trouble was, there was no way I was going to fit through there. I was bigger than Terry, not by much, but enough to make a difference plus I didn't want to get my clothes dirty, or else Mum would have had a cow, seeing how much I nagged her to get me them jeans and shirt in the first place.

Thankfully, Nan's house has a back gate, which wasn't locked so I could get out of that, and then use next door's gate to get in. That was bolted, of course, but it didn't take me long to get up and over it, as I like climbing stuff.

I spotted my brother straight off, mainly because he was stood like a twat statue in the middle of the lawn, holding on to all three of his balls like someone was getting ready to snatch them.

Yeah, three balls. The one he'd kicked over the fence, and the two tiny ones down the front of his trackies. Just which of them three I was going to toe-punt back over to Gran's garden, I hadn't decided.

Then, I saw Oscar Hansworth strapped into a highchair, wearing a nappy.

I did the stand and stare thing for a bit cos, well, you would wouldn't you seeing that? Only I wasn't about to just stand there, playing with my bollocks, despite my dick doing the stand up and salute thing.

No, I was going to get a lot more involved than that and why not? It's not like the big sliding patio doors were even closed, let alone locked.

He was sat there. Oscar was. Arms over the side of the chair, legs spread. Staring at me, but not doing nothing to get away, or hide or anything. So what was to stop me?

He wanted to be caught like that. Tied up and stuff. Like with the Twat. Wanted to be embarrassed. Humiliated even. Must have? I mean, Why else did he set himself up in a highchair, wearing a nappy, in the living room of his house, and not in his bedroom. And right in front of the windows too. He could have at least locked the patio door, or drawn the curtains. So he must have wanted to be caught. Stands to reason. Don't it? Well, Oscar sure got to find out, what would happen when he got caught, when it was me what caught him.

"Hello!" I shouted, opening the patio door. You know, just to make sure I weren't walking into some sort of trap, and, of course, to check there was no one else there. I mean, if someone had done that to Oscar, then I sure as shit, didn't want them doing it to me too. Did I? Course not. I wanted to be on the other side, doing whatever it was they were doing to Oscar, which looked like a lot of fun. At least my dick thought so cos it was like a rock in my boxer-briefs.

There wasn't nobody there. Not that I looked all over the house, just in the downstairs rooms, which were done up loads better than at Nan's. Massive telly and everything. That just left me alone with Oscar, and the Twat, but it didn't take me long to take care of the little one. That's why I had rope in my pocket after all. So I could tie my little brother up and cos it's easier to carry about than a hairbrush.

Bony wrists crossed over. Hands facing away from each other so his fingers couldn't reach my knots, even though he'd never be able to undo them, with his hands up over his head. The other end of the rope hooked onto the top of the fence, well out of his reach. I didn't have no gag with me, but his shirt up over his head, and stuffed in his mouth did the job just as well. And seeing how that left his tummy exposed, I dropped his trackies and undies down as well, leaving his little willy waggling all over the place making me wonder if some bird would mistake it for a juicy worm and have a peck.

I'd love to have stuck around to see if that would have happened but I could do that any other day when there wasn't a big baby around. I mean. What was all that about really?

Obviously Oscar was too big to be a baby for starters with quite long legs, and arms, that were stretched over the sides and front of that massive chair. But it was his face that gave it away most of all. Sure he looked like a little kid, mainly cos of the way he was done up, but he had a proper almost grown up face. A jaw line, cheekbones and all that. Not puffed face like a toddler has. Then there was the nose, that was going to be a right honker before too long, and even now was just a bit too big for his face just like his ears, although obviously he couldn't hide his nose under long shaggy hair.

All in all he'd have looked like a normal kid without the baby stuff going on. Only posher.

That's what he was. A Posh boy. Probably went to one of them fancy schools where all the boys bum each other every night. Had to. Otherwise, I'd have known him seeing as I lived on the estate just over the back of Nan's. How else could his lot have afforded a house that was even bigger than Gran's and in much better shape too. They'd even filled it with fancy stuff, not the worthless old tat Gran has. Mind you, that didn't explain why people with a teenage son would have a big old highchair that he could strap himself into. He had to have done it himself too, what with there being no one else there. Right?

Made in China, Cheap plastic crap, that highchair wasn't, even I could see that. Probably cost more than our old banger of a car. More solid too. Sturdy. Built to last. All that sort of crap that Gran goes on about, how things were in the past. On this though she was dead right. It was massive. Proper wood too. Big thick bits of wood, that were almost the size of Oscar's arms, if not bigger and he wasn't nowhere near as scrawny as the Twat. I mean he could probably have played football even rugby, if, you know, he wasn't a big baby.

Okay, so, I probably wouldn't have beaten him in a fair fight, cos he was bigger and older than me. Not that it was ever going to get to that, seeing as I had him bang to rights anyway. Still, it's always good to check cos I didn't want to go biting off more than I could chew. Done that before, during my first week at the comp, when I went to pick on this kid who looked like he should have been in infants, only to find out he had brothers – big brothers – in the Upper school. That didn't turn out well for me, soon I had my head stuck down the bog. They even flushed it. Twice. So, I weren't about to make that mistake again.

So, with that in mind, the first thing that I did, making sure Oscar was going to stay right where he was, until I was ready to deal with him.

There was what turned out to be dog collars – little ones like for little dogs – around his wrists that were fastened with them spring clips that normally hold leads on, only they was clipped to rings fitted into what were either the arms of the chair, or the underside of the table, depending how you looked at it. In any case, they hadn't been that tight when I'd come into the house, no doubt so Oscar could just pull his hands out, but I soon saw to that, and did them right up, until they was tight on his skin, so there was no way he was going to be able to get his hands out of them.

He struggled a bit, once he realised what I was doing, but couldn't say nothing cos of that oversize dummy he had in his mouth. Proper looking baby's dummy it was too. Like the ones Terry had when he was little. Had a big ring on the front and everything. Only it had a strap going around the back of his head too, and that was done up dead tight even before I got to it, so he couldn't do nothing but mumble stuff, so I couldn't understand, nothing he was saying, even when I was right next to him.

Oh, forgot to mention, his ankles had straps on them too. Holding his feet as wide as the spread of the highchair's legs. Dog collars again, I think but a bit bigger. They worked like them anyway, being clipped to more of them rings on the chair, which made sure he wasn't about to go kicking me with his bare feet, and keeping his legs spread as far apart as they could be so there was no chance of him hiding that he was wearing a nappy.

Like I said that high chair was big. Way too big for a baby to sit in, unless it was a baby elephant or something. Truth was it was too big for Oscar too. I mean, Oscar had to be taller than me, even though it was hard to tell cos he was sitting down. Maybe, he was like, about, three quarters adult size, perhaps and he was a bit stretched out in it. His knees, bare knees obviously cos he wasn't wearing no trousers or nothing over his nappy, only just made it to the front of the seat, what with the way he had to sit all the way back in the chair, and his legs were spread wide, making the nappy even more obvious, even if it hadn't been crinkling up a storm since I started on him.

Wasn't the first time I'd seen a boy in a nappy, cos like the Twat had worn them when he was little, so I could tell this one was a good fit on him. Not too small, like he'd tried on a proper baby one, or too big, neither. It was just his size which meant he had to have bought them himself, not nicked them from some baby. They was a little bunched up a between his legs, which may have been down to all the padding for his piss, but more likely cos he had a stiffy. Had one since I'd walked in, probably before. I could see it, clear as day. Well not clear, cos it was all tubed up inside the tight white nappy. Not a massive one neither, not even that big, actually, but there all the same. All twitching and jerking about, like he wanted someone to wank him off when there was no one who was going to do that. Certainly not me. Mind you I did cop a feel, cos, you know, why not? It wasn't like he could do anything about it, strapped up like he was.

Only about four or so inches long, so nothing to show off about, but well turned on by what was happening. Even if he was all wriggling about and making the bells on his harness ring.

Just a simple harness, nothing too special but doing its job perfectly. A black bit in the middle of his chest to which four straps were attached. Like seat belts they were, only about a third the width and white. The top two, attaching with spring clips to the top of the highchair, at his shoulders, while the bottom two went out from the sides, and down to clip under the seat. All could have done with a bit of a tighten, which I did, so that by the time I was messing with his nappy, he couldn't do more than jiggle about. Not even when I gave his legs a bit of slapping.

Yeah, you can slap legs too. Do it to Twat all the time. It's fun too. It really is. Leaving hand prints on thighs like that, especially when they can't move them cos, they are all spread out from him sitting on that hard wooden seat like that. Only shame was I couldn't give Oscar a proper bare bum spanking, only there wasn't going to be time for that sort of thing. Not with the not-really-a-party going on at Gran's next door. Someone was going to miss me and the Twat sooner or later, but that didn't mean I couldn't have me some fun first, maybe even get me some stuff. After all it wasn't like the big baby was going to be telling no one, what I did, was he?

You could tell from the stupid look on Oscar's dummy stuffed face, that he was loving being stuck in that chair getting his legs slapped. It's the same look Terry has when I tie him up. Exactly the same. Plus, Oscar's nappy was still all tented up too, so he had to be loving it more than McDonald's.

Only, then Oscar started shaking his head. His eyes all big and stary like he was about to shoot his stuff, but he wasn't looking at me, trying to get me to do it, which wasn't going to happen, but over my shoulder and I soon found out why.

"Having fun kid?"

There was someone else in the house and there was me, slapping the legs of some kid wearing a nappy who was strapped into a highchair.

This wasn't going to end well for me.

Or was it?

I turned around slowly, mostly so I could judge just how far away them patio doors was, wondering if I could make it out and over the gate back into Nan's garden before the cops were called and I ended up being banged up, and getting bummed by some massive teenager with a dick bigger than my arm, in the prison showers.

There was no way I was going to make it. I couldn't even see the opening cos there was someone standing right in front of them. Not an adult. Not Oscar's Mum or Dad. But a teenager. A big teenager like the one I was thinking about in the showers. Fifteen or sixteen or something wearing a tracksuit that was a bit too tight on him, so you could see all the muscles on his legs, and this right big bulge in the middle, what meant he was more man than boy. At least down there. He was tall too. Loads taller than me. So maybe he was Oscar's big brother or something. Only he didn't look like him. Oscar had dark hair for one thing, and this guy had blond.

Odd thing struck me straight off though, he was smiling. Not that sneery thing like the big boys at Marsden Marsh Comp do right before they batter you to crap, but a proper smile. Like he liked what he was seeing. Which he was, if what was happening in his trackies was anything to go by.

"I see you found my baby cousin." he said, clearing up who he was. "I'm Xander by the way.

"Marcus Maxwell," I mumbled, instantly wishing I'd lied and not given my real name, saying the door was open and that I'd just popped in to make sure Oscar was okay.

"And to slap Oscar's legs?" Xander laughed, his voice all deep and a little bit scary, which was made worse when he stuffed his hand into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a bit of a leather belt which he gave to me. Not as a slap about the head, like I expected, but into my hands, as a present.

"Here! Use this. It'll sting him more and won't hurt your hand so much!"

To say I was confused wasn't half near the mark.

"You want me to hit him?"

"Course. He's a bed wetting little sissy. It's what he deserves. Go on. Let him have a couple on each leg, right on the inside of his legs where it stings more."

I knew that, and said as much, which made him raise an eyebrow, but he never said nothing other than telling me to slap his cousin's legs. So I did.

SPLATT! SPLATT!

The leather made a great sound as it hit Oscar's skin, leaving behind great red marks of the sort that were going to hang about for ages.

"Now do the other side." Xander suggested and I was only too happy to do that. Making sure to get the end of the strap right up deep between Oscar's legs, as near to the nappy as I could.

There were tears in Oscar's eyes when I was done. His blue eyes all glistening with them, in a way that made him look really pathetic, but of course he couldn't cry out or nothing cos of the dummy in his mouth.

"Nice one kid." Xander congratulated me, which felt great, even though he called me Kid, cos no one does that normally, especially not for slapping someone. And he wasn't done yet.

"Saw what you did with the brat outside, too. Nice rope work. Who is that, by the way?"

"My little brother!"

"And you keep him under control, good? That's what I do with Baby Oscar here."

"How?" I had to ask, "How did you get him… you know… like that?"

"Easy." he sat down on a chair after adjusting his balls first, "At least it was once I found his old nappy kit in the loft and made him wear it."

Of course it hadn't been quite as easy as that, but that's what had happened. Oscar told me it himself later. Despite learning to piss in the toilet like a normal kid, when he was four or whatever, for some reason when he'd got to be a little older, Oscar had started wetting the bed again. Not much, but enough for his parents to want to do something about it. Like taking him to the doctors and stuff which must have been pretty embarrassing but nothing to what was to follow when the doc couldn't find nothing wrong with his dick.

Oscar's parents made him wear nappies. Only at night, of course, and they didn't strap him into a highchair, or put a dummy in his mouth or slap his legs. All that shit came later, once Xander had found out about the nappies, even though Oscar had stopped wearing them by then.

"I was having a nose around his room, for something to do," was how Xander described the way he'd come across a big bag at the back of his cousin's closet that had the last remaining nappies still in it along with one of them star charts that marked out which nights Oscar hadn't pissed himself so it wasn't like Oscar could deny it or anything.

"I got him to put one on, you know, just so I could see what a big boy would look like wearing a nappy. Then I made him wear it all day, through dinner, in front of our combined parents and everything"

"No way!" I said, seriously impressed at what he'd done, never having had the nerve to do anything like that with Terry.

"Way. He didn't have a choice. Not if he didn't want me telling everyone he wet the bed and it was hysterical watching him trying not to make it crinkle, when he walked, or sat down, or anything."

I laughed at that because, well, it was funny, thinking about him dressed like a normal boy but with a nappy on under his clothes. He'd know it was there all the time, cos he'd be able to feel it, and yet no one else would so he'd be scared they'd find out, and really embarrass him, rather than making him embarrass himself.

"I made him wear nappies all the time after that, even had him go and buy himself some from the big Boots The Chemist, in town. Made sure everyone would know they were for him too."

"How?" I asked.

"Easy. First I got him to put two of his old ones on first, so there was a big bulge under his trousers, and then got him to ask for nappies that were not just in his size but for big boy bedwetters like he was."

Even as Xander told me about what had happened, Oscar's face was all blushing, so it must have been dead embarrassing for him to do that, not that I cared, as I wanted to know about the other stuff, especially the high chair. How had they got something like that.

"Oh Dad collects loads of old furniture from all the big houses around us. Mostly antiques from Stately Homes, you know?"

I didn't so let him continue.

"Anyway, this one house must have had a disable kid or something, cos they had loads of stuff like that highchair. Dad didn't want it, but he said I could have it, for a project, and I did it up, so Oscar could use it. Mostly sanding it down and re-painting it but also making the legs a bit longer, so Oscar wouldn't be able to reach the floor like a proper baby."

"Wow." I said again cos that was dead impressive, being able to do stuff like that but then Xander was older than me. "What about the straps and stuff?"

"The harness was on the chair when I got it but I added the straps for his hands and feet to make sure he couldn't get out."

That didn't surprise me and neither did what they were made of.

"Dog collars they are. Surprisingly effective too even when it's not done up as tight as it is now."

"Oh yeah!" I admitted with a cheeky grin, "that might have been me."

He knew that of course, or else I'd never have admitted it. Not that Xander cared but it did get him to ask if I'd done anything like this before with the Twat. Tying him up, and gagging him and stuff. Not the full story, but just the highlights, cos that's all I had time to do before Mum started shouting for me and Twat to get back to Nan's quick-sharp.

I didn't leave empty handed though. Xander gave me his address and phone number, like I was one of his mates not some little kid who'd broken into his cousin's house. He even said he'd call me so I could come and "Mess with Oscar some more." I liked that idea. Liked it a lot. So much so that I had a stiffie all the time I was untying Terry from the fence, where his little twig was also waggling about, even though he wasn't struggling no more.

Just to teach him a lesson – and because it was fun – I took The Twat's underpants off him. Left them in the garden cos there was no way I was going to carry them. Left him his sweats of course, but they were cheep thin things, that didn't hide the twat's twig at all and then I shoved him back through the hole in the fence, while I went over the gate.

The party at Gran's hadn't got any better when me and the twat got back, but at least I got to see Terry walking about with a tent in his trousers, and no one noticing, even though it was obvious. If I'd done that – and I could of, cos I was like a rock – they'd have been hell to pay, but the twat's a little kid, so no one says nothing. Couldn't help wonder if the same was true for the pervert next door. Bet he was desperate for a wank too

The End