Author: J. Nash“I can’t believe you’re fourteen years old and you still wet your bed!
Man that’s so lame!” my brother said. Well, my step-brother, Adam. He’s
a couple of months younger than me. His Dad had met my Mom at a condo
time-share sales meeting; they fell for each other, and just got
married. So now it was a summer of love. We had been a happy family for
only a week. Well, I don’t know abouthappy. Since finding
out about my chronic enuresis Adam was constantly teasing. “You need to
be put in diapers like a baby,” he said. “Wayne’s a big retarded
bedwetting baby!”I had been a bedwetter all my life, fourteen soggy, smelly years, some
worse than others, but right now was as bad as it had ever been, and my
brother wasn’t helping. I was wetting almost every night. I had always
refused to wear Goodnites or diapers, a refusal that was barely
tolerated by my Mom, who had often threatened to put me back in them.
(‘You wet like a baby, you should wear diapers like one…’) I had become
good at hiding wet sheets and underwear and tee-shirts or whatever (I
never wore pj’s), and doing laundry when my Mom was out, so she had no
idea how often I was wetting. She only insisted that I have a plastic
sheet on my mattress, and while I sure didn’t like the idea, I accepted
it as a necessary embarrassment. Now, suddenly, I didn’t have a room to
myself anymore, and Adam was constantly complaining about the smell of
urine, and of being woken up in the middle of the night when I had to
change my sheets. Lately he complained that he had done badly on a test
at school because of interrupted sleep thanks to me. He really wanted my
Mom to put me in diapers, and was pushing for it. He had a point, but
just the thought of being put back in diapers made my knees go weak. I
couldn’t wear diapers! I wasn’t a baby!I soaked my whole bed, even my pillow. It was 2 a.m., and I was
exhausted. My blanket was wet as it had got wrapped around me, but my
comforter was mostly dry, so instead of changing the bed I got rid of my
soaked boxers for a clean pair and tee-shirt, lay on half my comforter
on the floor, and covered myself with the other half.“Man, it stinks in here!” Adam woke up complaining again, but he was
right. My bed had stayed wet all night, and worse, I had wet again, as I
soon discovered, right through my comforter and into the carpet. It
really did smell bad, and I was very embarrassed. At breakfast Adam told
my Mom what I had done.“Really, I can’t stand it anymore. The carpet’s going to stink for
weeks. How can I invite anyone over? Charlie’s always letting me sleep
over and I can’t return the favor ‘cause Wayne pees the bed. It’s not
fair!” Adam said“I have to agree with him, dear,” my new step-Dad said. I knew he saw my
bedwetting as a sign of weakness, something that should be corrected
somehow, or at least controlled. He had mentioned more than once that
when he was young, some kids got spanked for it. “Adam is losing sleep,
they both are, and the room does smell bad, in fact the whole upstairs
does. How long are you going to let this go on?”“Well, I see your point. And Wayne, you were irresponsible not to change
your wet bed, and then to wet on the carpet. Enough is enough. It’s time
for a change.”“Yeah,” Adam said, “a diaper change. It reallyisabout time!”My Mom left it at that, but I was afraid of what was coming, and Adam
immediately began taunting me out of earshot of my parents. “Hah, you’refinallygoing to have to wear diapers! Just like a baby! Finally! YES!” Just
before I left for school, my Mom called me. “Wayne, I want you to come
straight home from school this afternoon, ok?” I thought I knew why.
“Gotta go get some diapers!” Adam said. Of course he was right. All day
in school I had trouble concentrating, dreading what I knew was going to
happen. Three o’clock finally came, and I slowly made my way home. With
Adam. “This should be fun,” he said as we arrived.My Mom was waiting. “Do you want a compression bandage for your knee,
Adam? If so you can come with us to the medical supply store, or I’ll
just get you one.” Adam had hurt his knee a couple of days earlier
playing basketball.“Sure, I’ll come,” he said. I wasn’t counting on this. My shame would
likely be bad enough without another witness, this one in particular.We drove mostly in silence for about fifteen minutes, and my Mom pulled
into the lot at Regency Medical Supplies. I was a bit numb, scared. We
went inside. Adam immediately found what he was looking for, as I
pretended to myself that this was the only reason for our visit. Then
before I knew it we were standing in front of a large selection of adult
and youth diapers. It was awful. I wanted to cry. There were disposable
diapers, cloth diapers, plastic and rubber pants, waterproof sheeting,
bed pads. Everything you could think of for incontinent people or
bedwetters. I wanted to sink through the floor. A young man came up to
us, he was older than Adam and me, but not that much, maybe twenty.“Can I help you?” he said to my Mom.“Yes. There’s no point in beating around the bush. I need to buy some
diapers for this young man here,” she said, indicating me. “He’s a
chronic bedwetter.” He looked at me. So did Adam. “He’s still a
bedwetter.” Adam repeated, just to rub it in.“Ok, would you like disposable or cloth diapers? Is he a heavy wetter?”“Yes, he is, and he’s wetting almost every night. What would you
recommend?”“Well these youth disposable diapers are popular. They come with leg and
waist gathers, and have a wetness indicator, although I guess that’s not
important if he’s just going to be in diapers at night.” I couldn’t
believe it. They looked like Pampers, and they were talking about
putting me in them. Adam was smirking. I was quaking. I felt like I
needed to pee. Badly.“Or we have these cloth youth diapers, by Babykins,” he continued,
demonstrating. “They call them ‘Kins’ when they’re for youth or adults.
They’re flannelette, and as you can see, quite thick in the middle—six
layers thick, for great absorbency, and you can add folded cloth baby
diapers inside if you require even more. Of course with these he’ll have
to wear plastic or rubber pants, but most parents of bedwetters find
it’s still cheaper in the long run, and you get fewer leaks with cloth
diapers and waterproof pants.” It was such a shock to be referred to as
someone who would be wearing diapers and rubber or plastic pants! I felt
like such a baby! A helpless freak! I wanted to ask my Mom if we could
just leave, forget about it.“I think we’ll go with cloth.”“Fine, I suggest a medium. Plain white, or would you like colors or
prints?”“White is fine. I’ll take six of them for now.”“Ok and what about waterproof pants? We have Babykins vinyl and also a
very good and durable rubber pant, also by Babykins.” I couldn’t believe
this was happening!“I’ll take two plastic and two rubber pants for now.” Rubber pants! For
me!“Fine. Again, size medium. I assume he already has a plastic sheet on
his bed?”“Yes he does thanks. Do you have any diaper pins?”“No ma’am, we don’t carry those. You just need to pick up some diaper
pins for babies. They work fine. Any pharmacy or department store will
have them. But I would suggest a change pad. They can come in very
handy. We have them in a size that’s suited for youth or adults.”We paid for the diapers, pants, change pad, and Adam’s bandage and left
the store. I couldn’t look at Adam, who kept smirking at me. Well, at
least I hadn’t wet my pants like I thought I might, but I dreaded what
would happen in the evening.“Mom, are you actually going to physically diaper him?” Adam asked.“Yes I am, and we’ll see how it goes from there.” And now a big
surprise: “You’ll have to learn how too, but don’t worry; it’s not
exactly rocket science.” Great! My mean step-brother was going to diaper
me! My humiliation was complete! Let me just die and get it over with!
My step-brother was going to diaper me like a baby! No! Mom stopped at a
pharmacy.“Adam, run in and get some Tylenol for your knee. Oh and some diaper
pins, and some baby powder.” He went, and came back with Johnson &
Johnson baby powder and two packages of blue diaper pins. He waved them
under my nose. “Blue, ‘cause you’re a boy!” he laughed. “They had
pacifiers too; I should have got you one. And Mom, they had diaper rash
ointment. Shouldn’t we get him some?”“We will if and when he needs it.”The smell of baby powder seemed to fill the car, and filled me with
shame.That evening I felt every second ticking by, bringing me ever closer to
my doom. My diapers and waterproof pants (Adam couldn’t resist calling
them my ‘baby pants’) were still in their bag on a chair in the kitchen,
a reminder to me whenever I came near that this nightmare was real. My
Dad examined one of the diapers and a pair of the rubber pants and shook
his head, as if I was the most pathetic creature he had ever seen. Adam
saw the disappointed look.“Well, at least now his bed will stay dry,” my brother said.At around eight o’clock my Mom appeared with the bag of my supplies plus
the diaper pins and powder and said “Ok, it’s time. Let’s go upstairs.
First go and get your brother. Like I said, he needs to learn how to
diaper you. She never minced words.” So I had to find Adam and somehow
tell him that it was time for me to be diapered. He didn’t make it easy,
and made me almost spell it out. “Mom wants you to come upstairs.”“Why?”“You know why.”“No I don’t. Why?”“You know. The bedtime thing”“Oh right! I forgot! She’s going to put you in diapers, ‘cause you’re a
big baby bedwetter. Ok, let’s go.”I had just assumed my Mom would change me on my bed, but I guess she
considered it too low for her sore back, and decided to use the much
higher plain work table that was in our room. It’s about 5 ½ feet long,
the type you might buy at Office Depot or whatever, and it easily
doubled as a change table. This sort of threw me for a loop, especially
when she placed my new quilted change pad on it. It really looked like
an oversized infant’s change table. She chose a diaper, and a pair of
rubber pants, and then took some diaper pins from one of the packages.
The baby powder was standing nearby. All this ‘baby’ stuff and my
unwilling role in it was overwhelming, and I was numb. Again. It was all
happening before my eyes, but I still couldn’t believe I was about to be
put in diapers. Sure I was a bedwetter, but this was too much.“Alright Wayne, take off your pants and underwear, and hop up on the
change pad. You can keep your tee-shirt on.” My brother had a sadistic
grin on his face. “Adam, I want you to observe how I do this, so that
you can diaper him as well when I’m not available, or just to give me a
break. And here I thought I was all finished with changing diapers.”“Why can’t I just do it?” I asked pathetically.“Because I’m taking control of your wetting because you won’t. Later on,
if you show you’re responsible, you might earn that privilege, but for
now I will do the diapering, and your brother will help.” So I could
‘earn’ the ‘privilege’ of diapering myself if I was lucky. Some
privilege! But I still hadn’t moved.“Did you hear what I said? Pants and underwear off! Now!”I guess the shame of it all was making me slow, almost paralyzed. Having
to submit to the indignity of being diapered like a baby in front of my
mocking step-brother was too much for me. He had never even seen me
naked, even though we shared a room. That’s how shy I was. And of course
my mother hadn’t seen me without pants on for a long, long time. Things
were happening too fast.“Very well. Young man, you just earned yourself a spanking. Darn it,
you’re going to see that I mean business. Adam, please go to the closet
in my room and get the leather strap you’ll find hanging there.” This
hadn’t been used before. It had been my real father’s, and was
apparently used occasionally on him and his brothers as boys. Just the
faintest hint of its possible use had always been enough to keep me in
line. Now it was actually going to be used on me for the first time. I
was shocked, scared, and horrified. A real spanking! With the strap!
What a disgrace! Was this really happening?“Wayne, you can do like I said, or I’ll get your father and Adam to help
me, and you’ll just get extra, believe me. It’s up to you.”It finally sunk in that it was futile to resist, and in a moment I was
wearing only my tee-shirt and socks. I was hugely embarrassed, and I
think probably crimson from head to toe. I was shaking.“Fine. Now you can lean over the table and wait for your spanking to
begin.” I did as I was told, excruciatingly conscious of my nakedness,
and in a few moments Adam was back with the strap. He didn’t say
anything, but I figured he must be very amused. I stole a disbelieving
backward glance at it as he handed it to my mother. It was of dark brown
leather, about 2 ½ feet long, four or five inches wide, and looked quite
thick. It had a wooden handle. I had seen it before, of course, but it
never looked so menacing, so scary. My Mom made me wait what seemed like
forever before I felt the first bite of the leather on my butt. (I later
found out that this delay was a deliberate technique to increase the
anticipation and humiliation of the ordeal.) After the first slow ten
strokes I was crying from both shame and pain, and at fifteen I wanted
to beg her to stop, but the spanking continued for ten more stinging
whacks. My butt was on fire when she finally stopped and told me to get
on the ‘change table’. I had no fight in me and just lay there on the
change pad as she picked up a diaper. My brother seemed sort of in awe
of what he was seeing.Mom moved the bottom of my tee-shirt out of the way. “Ok, Adam, here’s
how it’s done. Sprinkle some powder on the diaper where it will cover
his rear, then sprinkle some on his front, then get him to lift up--lift
your butt, Wayne—slide the diaper under him, like that, bring it up
between his legs, and pin it securely on either side, there…and there.
Be careful with the pins, and make sure you pin it tight to avoid leaks.
Then just slide his rubber or plastic pants all the way up—lift up
again, Wayne---making sure the diaper is completely inside. Like so.
Think you can manage that?”“Duh, I dunno,” Adam said, and laughed. “Man, does he ever look like a
dweeb! Ababydweeb!”“And if you have to spank him, don’t spank harder than I did, and no
more than thirty strokes, maximum.”“So I actually get tospankhim?” Adam asked. “Bonus!”“Only if he gives you good reason, and only after consulting with me or
your father.” This was incredible. Not only was my technically younger
brother going to be putting me in diapers, but he even had permission to
use corporal punishment on me, something I had no doubt he’d take
advantage of. Too much!So here I was, totally defeated, humiliatingly spanked and in diapers in
front of my mother and step-brother. The diaper felt really thick and
bulging on me, and felt very strange between my legs. The rubber pants
made noise at the slightest movement, and I reeked of baby powder. This
was total and complete mortification, with no end in sight.“Now let that spanking be a lesson to you, Wayne,” my Mom said. “We have
better things to be doing than to be changing your diapers, so you just
cooperate fully or you’ll get a spanking every time. Is that clear? The
strap is going to stay right here in your room as a reminder.” She put
it on top of my dresser; later it would hang in my closet. I wasn’t
thinking clearly, but I had already decided that whatever happened, I
would do whatever it took to avoid another spanking.“Can I have pants?”“No. I think until further notice you can just wear your diapers and
rubber pants and think about why you need to be in them. None of your
pants would fit over them anyway.”“But everyone will see me!” This made Adam laugh.“Well that’s your problem. The solution is to stop wetting the bed and
then you won’t need to wear diapers.”“Orbabypants,” Adam helpfully added.When my step-father saw me in my diapers later he just shook his head.
It was clear he thought I was some kind of disgrace, while his precious
Adam could do no wrong. It made me feel even worse to see the waistband
of Adam’s boxer shorts peeking out of the top of his jeans, a reminder
of how low I’d fallen. It didn’t help when he ‘playfully’ swatted me on
my sore backside through my rubber pants. For once I couldn’t wait for
bedtime, but had a hard time falling asleep. Partly it was the intense
shame of my spanking and my first night back in diapers, but also from
the bulk of the diaper and the heat from the rubber pants. I woke up in
the middle of the night temporarily forgetting about my awful new
situation until my hand touched my smooth rubber pants, and my shame
came flooding back to me (no pun intended). Now I had as just much in
common with a baby as with the fourteen year old I wanted to be. I was
also soaking wet, but for once the bed wasn’t.After a few minor leaks and more complaints from Adam about imagined
urine smells, my Mom decided to add flannelette baby diapers to what I
was already wearing. She made me go to Wal-Mart after school and buy a
package of 10 Snugabye 27x27 inch diapers, two of which she (or Adam,
but my Dad has never changed me) would fold in thirds lengthwise and add
to the inside of my Babykins. It added some bulk, but it’s not as if
someone was going to notice because of that when I was already obviously
wearing thick diapers and plastic or rubber pants and was waddling
around like an infant. But buying diapers is risky and embarrassing, and
there’s a rule that if something can go wrong when the stakes are that
high it will, and it did. I was waiting in line at the checkout, doing
my best to hide the package of diapers. To my relief they finally ended
up in a bag, bought and paid for. But when I left the store I ran smack
into three kids from my school, Kevin Jones and two other boneheads. The
problem was that the logo and lettering on the Snugabyes were visible
through the thin department store plastic bag. I did my best to conceal
it, but Kevin noticed. Maybe he had a baby brother and recognized the
package.“What you got there?” he said.“Nothing.”“Looks likesomething. Looks like you bought yourself some
diapers. That right, Wayne? Did little Wayne get some new diapers?” He
said this in quasi baby talk.“No.”“Oh. ’Cause I heard you still wear diapers. That right?”One of his friends grabbed the bag from my hands, and soon the three of
them were passing my package of diapers around like a football. The bag
was on the floor.“I heard you still wet the bed every night still and need to wear
diapers like a baby. That’s what I heard, anyway.”After awhile a security guard approached and they got tired of the game
and threw me a pass. “Here you go,baby.” But they knew.
The whole school knew.To prove that rule is true—I had another embarrassing similar
incident—my Mom sent me to a medical supply store to buy rubber pants. I
hung around outside for almost an hour before working up the courage to
go inside. I waited until the counter didn’t look too busy, grabbed the
three pairs of Babykins (or ‘Kins’) rubber pants I had been told to get
(my Mom seemed to favor them), shakily paid and left the store with my
purchase in my backpack. An alarm sounded, and I was escorted back
inside by a security guard. The clerk said there must be a
theft-prevention tag inside something that I bought, so before I knew it
he had my three pairs of rubber pants out of their packaging and on the
counter, and was examining each pair, holding them up, sticking his hand
inside, searching. The commotion had alerted everyone nearby, and they
all watched as this happened. There was a boy around twelve who looked
at me wide-eyed, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. I heard
his mother (I presume) say, “They’re like baby pants, but for big boys
who still wet the bed or their pants.” Big boys like me. Turned out the
alarm was set off by a rental DVD I had in my packsack. All that
embarrassment for nothing!Being a bedwetter is bad enough, but you can hope it doesn’t happen, or
if you do wet you can change the bed and get past it, and tell yourself
maybe it won’t happen again. But when you’re made to wear diapers the
shame continues on whether you’re wet or dry. That’s what I was finding
out. Every night from 7 o’clock (or whenever my Mom or Adam arbitrarily
decided), my dignity and self-esteem plunged to zero and stayed there
while I spent the whole evening in my diapers, a walking advertisement
that I was still a baby/bedwetter. The odd night that I stayed dry I
still spent in diapers. I can see that someone might give up even
trying. They say ‘clothes define the man’. Well diapers are clothes too,
and in this case you could say that they re-defined the ‘man’ backwards,
all the way back to babyhood. They are what everyone notices, and no-one
looks beyond. Wayne isn’t the boy who’s good in math, he’s the fourteen
year-old kid who still wears diapers and wets them.Getting changed by my brother was very very hard to endure, and he was
now doing most of the diapering. My Mom had increased his allowance to
compensate him for it, and she diapered me only when he was away for the
night, for example. If he was going out early, then he ‘took care’ of me
early, and if he changed his mind about going out, too bad. Usually he
had diapers ready and powdered on the change table (as they now openly
called it), and a pair of waterproof pants selected. I was expected to
quickly undress, get on the table, and cooperate, which I always did. If
he forgot the powder, then when I was standing he’d insert a finger or
two inside the waistband of my plastic pants, inside the top my diapers,
tug a little, and dump some in front, then in back. Then, sometimes with
a swat on my plasticized (or rubberized) butt, I was ‘free’ to go. “My
work here is done,” he might say, laughing.So far I hadn’t received a dreaded spanking from my brother, but I came
close. Some of his friends had been over at various times and seen me in
my diapers, and all had been fairly cruel in their comments, in one way
or another. I could hardly even blame them. His friend Bryce never
failed to call me ‘Baby Wayne’ for example, while others just laughed or
made stupid comments ‘Man, wearing diapers is so retarded!’ Charlie said
when he first saw me. Or, ‘I think someone needs his diapers changed!’
But the first time he actually had a friend in the room at change time,
I balked. I didn’t even know Axel was there. I got called to the room,
where as usual a thick diaper with inserts was waiting on the change
table, and Axel was at the far end with a disbelieving look on his face.
He hadn’t yet seen me in diapers, much less the process of being put in
them. I stopped dead.“See? I told you,” Adam said. “Ok Wayne, go ahead.” I didn’t.“Look, Wayne, we have stuff to do, so either cooperate right now or you
get the strap.” He told Axel to look in the closet.“Man, oh man! That looks like it must hurt! It’s wicked!”“I’m sure it does. Up to you, Wayne. Right now or you get a spanking.
It’s a no-brainer, bro. Either way you end up in diapers, as usual.” He
would have to ask Mom to authorize a spanking, but I knew my odds
wouldn’t be good. So I reluctantly complied. It was tough.Axel watched the whole thing in fascination, as if it were a freak show,
which I guess it was. This was one of the times my brother forgot the
baby powder, and remembered as I got to my feet. As I hung my head in
shame he inserted some into my diapers, front and rear.“Now get lost, Wayne, we have stuff to do,” he said, smacking my behind
on the plastic, making a loud noise.“Man, I can’t believe what I’m seeing,” Axel said. As I crinkled away to
try to find a hiding place to die in, I heard Adam say “We’re not trying
to be mean. He wets every night, and if he’s not in diapers the smell
gets putrid.”The Axel incident may have prepared me for an even worse one. Adam had a
new girlfriend, Rachel. She had already made it clear that she thought I
was an infantile geek, and I tried to keep my distance from her,
especially when I was in diapers. She could be scathing about my wetting
and the fact that I still wore diapers. (‘My brother is three and even
he doesn’t wet the bed.’) One evening Adam was in the process of
diapering me when she walked in. The diapers were covering me, but
weren’t yet pinned on. His cell-phone rang, and I was left lying there
like that. I tried to think of something to say, but there was nothing,
and I probably wouldn’t have been able to speak anyway.“Adam, we have to go.” She was looking at me with the look she reserved
for the lowest of the low—a pathetic diapered bedwetter. She resented
the fact that her boyfriend had to ‘baby-sit’ me, as she put it,
something which was sort of true, as I was never allowed to be alone,
and sometimes this interfered with Adam’s plans. Adam was in a deep
discussion with his friend Charlie, which didn’t sound like it was about
to end soon. He motioned to her.“Hook him up will you?”“What?”“Pin him up him for me, and put him in his plastic pants. I have to talk
to Charlie about later.” He went back to his conversation. She didn’t
hesitate.“Have you been powdered?” I couldn’t answer. She lifted my diapers and
saw that I hadn’t been. Then she grabbed the Johnson & Johnson’s and
sprinkled powder all over my front. She repositioned the diapers and
pinned them on me, first the left side, then the right. Tight. My eyes
were closed, but I felt as my feet were inserted into the pair of
plastic pants that Adam had selected. I felt them go up my shins and
calves, my thighs. They crinkled a lot.“Lift your butt.” I did as I was told, and she pulled the plastic pants
over my diapers. I felt her checking at the legs and waist to make sure
I was completely covered.“There. You know, I’ve changed lots of diapers on lots of babies, Wayne,
and so far you’re the biggest one.” I got off the change table, and on
shaky legs slunk out of her sight just as Adam ended his call.I was standing in the den where my parents were watching TV when Adam
and Rachel came in to announce they were going over to Charlie’s.“Don’t you feel a bit silly being in diapers in front of Adam’s
girlfriend?” my Dad asked. He never missed a chance to shame me, maybe
thinking it would somehow help me stop wetting.“Um, I guess so,” I answered lamely. He couldn’t possibly know how
foolish I felt right then. Adam and Rachel started to laugh.“What’s so funny?” my Dad wanted to know.“Guess who diapered him?” Adam asked. My parents looked at Rachel
quizzically.“Adam was on the phone, and we were in a hurry. Don’t worry; I’ve
changed lots of babies. I know what I’m doing,” Rachel said. I thought
my parents would be upset, but they laughed.“So you were changed by an expert,” my Mom said to me, and they all
laughed. “Rachel, we should hire you to baby-sit.” I didn’t know if she
was kidding.Adam’s new girlfriend inspired him to new heights of hygiene, with not
very happy results for me. I had to have a shower in the mornings, for
obvious reasons, but now as often as not I couldn’t get in the bathroom
because Adam was suddenly so meticulous about cleanliness. That
particular problem was solved after I came home with a note for my Mom
from Mrs. Collins, my home-room teacher. More than once I had been
forced to go to school without showering, and as the day wore on my
urine smell became obvious and offensive, not to mention the source of
much ridicule from several students, including Kevin Jones and his
brain-dead friends from the mall (‘I think Wayne forgot to wear his
diapers last night…’) But then there was another problem. Adam had been
complaining about my doing diaper laundry in the washing machine. He
claimed that my diapers left a ‘pee smell’ in the washer, and he didn’t
want his clothes to become, as he said, ‘contaminated’. He argued and
harangued until my Dad cut him off by announcing that from now on I
could wash my diapers in the laundry room sink and hang them to dry on
the rack that was there. This was a pain, of course, and time-consuming,
but the fact was that I could never get them as clean as the washing
machine, with the result that they always had a slight but unmistakable
smell of urine. So when I was in my diapers I always smelled of pee and
baby powder only sweetened it a little.The inevitable finally happened, as I knew it must sooner or later—I got
a spanking from my brother, but that was nothing compared to what would
come later.My mother was never shy about talking to other mothers (or anyone at
all, for that matter) about my wetting, and she discovered (maybe at a
PTA meeting, I don’t know) that Mrs. O’Connor’s thirteen year old son
Richard (I knew him) a chronic bedwetter, had now been dry for almost
four months. Convinced her son was now over his problem; Mrs. O’Connor
offered to give all his diapers, plastic pants and other stuff to my Mom
to use on me. ‘No point in letting it go to waste,’ they had apparently
agreed, although the plastic sheet would stay on Richard’s bed awhile
longer, just in case. They agreed on a date and time to drop off the
supplies.They came around 4 pm on a Tuesday. I didn’t know Richard very well,
(and hadn’t known he was a bedwetter) and was surprised that he would
show up with his Mom to give me a bunch of diapers and plastic pants
that he had worn. But I guess she made him, because here he was,
carrying an oversized diaper pail that looked heavy. His eyes were on
the ground as small talk was made. Of course my brother had to be there,
and was already amused.“Do you already have a diaper pail for Wayne?” Mrs. O’Conner asked my
Mom.“No, actually that will come in very handy,” my Mom answered. “He’s just
been using garbage bags. I was thinking of getting one. It’s more
hygienic.”“Now there are all these diapers, some of them quite new,” Mrs. O’Connor
said, reaching into the diaper pail and retrieving one. There are
Babykins, which I know Wayne already wears, and also diapers from RP
Diaper Designs which are ten layers thick in the middle. There are also
various pairs of plastic pants, pins, and whatnot. Change pads, wipes,
and medical gloves for changing wet diapers.”“Richard, you must be happy to be giving all this babyish stuff away?”
my Mom asked. He just nodded. “Maybe someday we’ll be able to give all
Wayne’s diapers away.” I had been squirming uncomfortably since Richard
and his Mom arrived, and especially so since she started talking about
my getting Richard’s diapers and plastic pants. I guess it was just too
much, and now I realized what had almost happened at the medical supply
store had now happened for real. My pants were wet. When my mother
noticed, her jaw went slack. Adam said “Holy cow, Wayne peed his pants!”
Everyone looked at me in disbelief. I didn’t know what to say. My Mom
was furious. She could hardly speak.“Adam, I want you to take your brother and his new things upstairs,
clean him up, and diaper him. But before you put him in his diapers, I’d
like you to give him a good spanking.” Upstairs we went. It turned out
that there were some Huggies wipes in the diaper pail, and my brother
made me wipe myself off with one of them while he waited with the strap.
I was very upset that I had wet myself, that I was about to be spanked
for it, that my brother would be delivering the punishment, and that
Richard was aware that I was about to be spanked, and that he’d be
seeing me in diapers after my spanking. I hoped that he and his mother
would leave, but I knew that it was unlikely. Adam had placed everything
from the diaper pail on my change table, and had put my wet jeans and
underwear in it. Now I stared at my shameful new diapers and plastic
pants as I leaned over the table, arms outstretched. My brother made me
wait, and just as I thought the first stroke must come, his cell-phone
rang, and I was kept waiting even longer.“Charlie. Hi. Listen, I’ll have to call you back. I’m just about to give
Wayne a spanking. Oh, he peed his pants. Yeah, I know. Ok. Talk to you
later. Bye.” Another few moments and I felt the stinging leather against
my skin. He spanked me a full thirty times, and by the end of it I was a
quivering mess. I honestly didn’t think I’d be able to sit for a long
time. On the change table I already knew what would happen. Adam grabbed
one of Richard’s really thick diapers, added a couple of baby diapers,
and pinned them on me. Then he took, as I knew he would, a pair of
yellow snap-on plastic pants and snapped them on over my diapers. They
were one of several pairs of ‘nursery print’ pants, basically yellow
with koala bears on them. Another pair was blue with other animals on
them. When I was on my feet he added baby powder. “How does it feel to
be wearing another baby’s diapers?” he taunted. I was still crying.Back downstairs, all eyes were on my plastic pants. My diapers bulged
even more than normal, and I was painfully conscious that everyone knew
that I had just been given a spanking. Richard avoided eye-contact, and
so did I. except for the carpet.“Oh I see you found the nursery prints, Adam,” said Mrs. O’Connor. “Poor
Richard hated wearing those. They came by mistake with an order of plain
plastic pants, but they’re perfectly good, and I wasn’t going to throw
them away.”“Well, as long as they’re waterproof, what’s the difference? He can wear
them,” my mother added. Richard and his Mom stayed for another
excruciating half-hour. Before they left my mother thanked them for the
baby stuff and I was forced to thank them as well. I was changed into
diapers for a week as soon as I got home from school, and was in them
twenty-four hours for two whole weekends. On one of the afternoons I got
home before my brother, who had some work to do at the library. Not
knowing this, Rachel came over to wait for him. My Mom complained about
having to make a bunch of phone calls on behalf of the PTA, and of
having to diaper me. “I never thought I’d still be changing diapers when
my kid was fourteen,” she said.“Don’t worry, I’ll do it,” Rachel said.“You don’t mind? It would be a big help. You don’t think it’s sort of
improper? After all he’s a boy…”“Not at all. For me it’s just a simple matter of putting a baby in
diapers, that’s all. It’s no different. No problem.’ She prepared my
diapers on the change table, and then looked away while I got undressed
and climbed onto the table. She powdered me, pinned my diapers on me,
and put me in plastic pants. “There,” she said when she was done.
“Baby’s got his diapers on. No big deal.” Later, downstairs my Mom
thanked her, and asked me if I had.My Dad dropped a bombshell one evening.. “Adam and your mother tell me
that you’re wetting your diapers every night. Is that right?”“Well, noteverysingle night,” I protested.“Pretty darn close,” Adam said.“Here. Take this. It’s a calendar. From now on every morning when you
get up you’ll mark a ‘W’ for wet and ‘D’ for dry on the appropriate
date. Adam will check you. Keep it on the wall near your bed. At the end
of the week, on Sunday, before you get diapered, Adam will count up the
‘W’s for the previous week, and for every one you’ll get five strokes
with the strap. We’ll see if that smartens you up any.” I knew he was
upset with my wetting, but a weekly spanking! And potentially 35
strokes, which was five more than the maximum I could get now! Adam was
snickering. “I’m going to love this!” he said.From then on I had to report to Adam in the morning, and it was he who
marked my calendar. So far there wasn’t one ‘D’ for dry. A couple of his
friends had noticed it on the wall and inquired about it, and Adam
gleefully explained that it was my bedwetting calendar, and that at the
end of each week I’d be getting a spanking administered by him. “Looks
like he’s getting the max this week,” Charlie observed. It was Saturday,
and so far I had been wet every night. So I could expect thirty strokes,
and maybe five more.I wet my pants again. My aunt Jane had come over with my twin cousins
Brad and Rick. They are my age. My Mom mentioned the new disciplinary
policy regarding me, and the fact that I would be spanked the next day.
She said this right in front of the twins, and Adam was there too. I
guess the dread and embarrassment made me wet my pants. I didn’t even
know I had done it until Rick said “Aunt Ellen, Wayne just wet his
pants!” So in addition to my Sunday spanking, I got a Saturday one as
well. Adam delivered thirty with the strap, after which I was put in
diapers and my yellow ‘baby pants’ and made to face my cousins like
that, with the sounds of my spanking still fresh in their ears. It was
especially unfortunate that I wet my pants again, because my Mom was
planning to send me and Adam to Aunt Jane’s for ten days while she and
my Dad went on a trip, and now my Aunt decided that I would have to wear
diapers the whole time. “We finally have nice furniture, we just got new
carpeting, and I’d just feel so much better if Wayne wore diapers. And
given what’s been happening, I think it’s more than just a precaution.”
Her sons looked at me as if I were the biggest baby in the world. Maybe
I was.My first ‘scheduled’ Sunday spanking was to be the worst I had so far
received. Not only was I going to get thirty-five strokes with the strap
(seven wet nights), but my backside was still red and sore from my
Saturday misadventure. To make matters worse, Adam’s friend Charlie was
over, and would witness the whole thing. The anticipation of being
spanked had been terrible all week, and was worse on Sunday because of
Charlie. Finally the time was at hand, and I was called upstairs.“You know what to do,” Adam said. Diapers were already on the change
table. He went to the closet and got the strap. Seeing it made me feel
shaky.“Spare the rod, spoil the child,” Charlie said. It was hard to undress
in front of them, but I knew I had no choice. I leaned over the table,
arms outstretched, and waited for my punishment. I was crying after five
strokes. The pain was bad, but as usual the feelings of shame and
disgrace also contributed. Charlie counted. “Thirty-three, thirty-four,
thirty-five.” It was over. Now, as I lay on top of my diapers, Adam was
called downstairs. I knew what would happen.“My Dad needs me for something. Diaper him for me, Charlie.”“You want me to diaper him? I’ve never even diapered a baby.”“Well now’s your chance. Powder him and diaper him, ok?”“I guess there’s a first time for everything. Man oh man!” My brother
left, and Charlie managed to awkwardly pin my diapers on me after
smothering me in baby powder. I felt very infantile to be diapered by my
brother’s friend, just as when Adam’s girlfriend had done it.“Where are your baby pants—in the drawer here?” I guess he got the term
from my brother. I hated it.“Yes.” I was dying of embarrassment. He reached into the drawer and
selected a pair of my rubber pants, which he then put on me. It was a
clumsy operation, but I did everything I could to cooperate to get it
over with. He finally had me stand up so he could pull the rubber pants
over my diapers.“We’re done. Don’t you feel kind of dumb to be wearing diapers and
rubber pants after being spanked?”“Kind of.”I was in for a surprise when I got downstairs. Suddenly there were Danny
and Louis Chou, staring at me in my diapers. Danny is my age, Louis a
year or so younger. They go to my school. They were here with their Dad,
as it turned out, who was consulting my Dad about an upcoming
construction project. I would have gladly sunk through the floor as the
boys regarded me with open-mouthed surprise.“Why is he wearing diapers?” Louis asked Adam and Charlie.“Why don’t you tell him, Wayne? Why are you wearing diapers?”“Cause sometimes I wet the bed,” I mumbled.“Sometimes,” Charlie laughed. “I think it’s more like always.”“Did he just get a spanking?” Danny asked. “It sounded like someone was
getting a spanking.”“Tell him,” Adam said.“I got a spanking.”“Why? For wetting your diapers?”“Yes.”“Cool. In that case you deserve it.”“He smells like pee,” Louis said. “Is he wet now?”“He always smells like that,” Adam explained. “There’s residual urine
that stays in his diapers, and it makes him smell a little.”“Yuck!” the boys said.My rubber pants were very noisy whenever I moved, and the boys’ kept
looking at them. I didn’t want to go and sit down because my backside
was still so sore from two spankings in two days, so I just sort of hung
around and endured the harsh comments and scorn of the Chous, my
brother, and Charlie. Danny and Louis stayed for about another
half-hour, but it seemed much longer to me. When their father joined
them as they were about to leave, he gave me a startled look when he
noticed I was in diapers.“He’s a bedwetter,” Danny said.“He’s a baby,” Louis said.I had hoped that my aunt had forgotten her resolve, but I wasn’t in her
house one minute when she asked Adam if he’d please take me upstairs and
diaper me. “I’m happy to have you here, Wayne, but I’m not willing to
take a chance on having you wet the carpets or furniture, so you’re
going to have to be in diapers. But you knew that. It’s too bad, but
that’s the way it’s going to be.” We had come with a large supply of
diapers, plastic and rubber pants, powder, pins, a change pad, and my
diaper pail, all of which were now in plain view of my twin cousins Brad
and Rick. “You guys go and watch how Adam does it, so you can help if
you’re needed.”“We have to change Wayne’s diapers?” Brad asked. “No way!”“You might,” his Mom said.I carried everything upstairs. There was a spare room, but after prior
discussion and over objections from my cousins, it was decided that Adam
would have it, and that I would share with Brad and Rick. I would be
using a single roll-away bed that had been set up, but not yet made. On
its mattress there was a thick-looking plastic sheet. Then I noticed
that a change table—I supposed from when the twins were babies—had been
set near my bed. It was larger than normal, perhaps to accommodate twins
at the same time, and would be large enough to for me to use. There was
shelving under the changing platform, and Adam told me to stack my
diapers and pants there. The diaper pail went beside the change table
after Adam took from it my calendar and the strap. He explained the
purpose of both to my cousins, who were fascinated. I was deeply
embarrassed at the number of ‘W’s on the calendar, the strap, the change
table, the diapers, the plastic sheet, and what was about to happen. My
brother placed my change pad on the table.“Ok, let’s do it. Guys, watch, ‘cause if I’m not around you’ll have to
do it.”“Man, I hope not. Are there gloves, at least?” Brad asked.“On the shelf, there.”“Ok, you fold two baby diapers in three lengthwise, like so, then lay
them inside his big diaper, put some powder on it, lie him on it, more
powder, then just pin it on tight. Wayne, get undressed and on the
change table. Right now.”My cousins were enjoying themselves. The last thing in the world I
wanted to do was to get undressed in front of them, but I knew what
would happen if I resisted or even hesitated. The strap was right here,
and Adam wouldn’t be shy to use it, especially in front of an audience.
So I sheepishly got out of my pants and underwear, knowing that I
wouldn’t be seeing either for ten days. I climbed onto the table and lay
on the diapers. My eyes were closed, but I felt powder being sprinkled
on my body, and I smelled it. Then I felt the diapers being brought up
between my legs and felt as one side was pinned on, then the other.“Pin them on tight, guys, otherwise he can spring a leak.” I felt my
feet being placed through the leg openings of rubber pants, and felt
them being pulled up. I lifted up so my brother could pull them over my
diapers, and then he was done.“That’s it. No big deal. Baby is now diapered.”I had no pants that would go on over my rubber ones, so I was obliged to
walk around with my diapers plainly visible to everyone. Brad and Rick
thought the situation was hilarious, and missed no opportunity to laugh
at and belittle me. When I got downstairs I was shocked when I came face
to face with a boy whose name I would learn was Christopher. He was a
friend of my cousins and had come to borrow a book. I froze as he stared
at me, mouth gaping open. He was blond, with blue eyes, and wore what
looked like Calvin Klein jeans and a collar-less shirt tucked in. He
looked cool. I was almost fainting with embarrassment.“Ohmygod! Why’s he wearing diapers?”“Oh that’s our cousin Wayne. He still wets the bed,” Brad said.“And even sometimes his pants,” Rick added. “He’s a big baby.”“Man, I’ll say!” I endured my shame as best I could, but it’s hard to
keep cool when you’re in a room with three kids your age or younger than
you and you’re wearing diapers. The conversation kept coming back to me.“Who changes him?” Christopher asked. “Man, it’s incredible. The guy’s
in freakin’diapers!”“Mostly his brother Adam changes him, but we might have to,” Brad said.“Well I hate to tell you this, but you might have to do it sooner than
you thought. I’m pretty sure he’s wet. Smell.” Just as he said this, my
aunt came in the room. I hoped she hadn’t heard, but of course she had.“What’s this? Wayne, did you wet your diapers?”“No! I didn’t!” But I had. The excruciating discomfort of being seen in
diapers had made me lose control. I was soaked inside my rubber pants.
My aunt walked over to me and as I stared hard at the floor, she pulled
the waistband of my rubber pants and peered inside.“You did, you dirty boy! You wet your diapers! Well it just proves I was
right to insist you wear them during the day.” The boys were snickering.
“Now what’s going to happen is this. Brad and Rick are going to take you
upstairs, they’re going to clean you up, and they’re going to change
your diapers.”“Can’t Adam do it?” Brad protested.“Adam’s out and Wayne can’t stay wet until he gets back. I know it’s
tiresome but we all have to do our part. And Wayne, one more thing.
Before they put you back in diapers the boys are going to give you a
good spanking for lying to me and for being such a baby.”“You going to put him over your knee?” Christopher jokingly asked.“I dunno. When he gives you the strap, how exactly does Adam do it,
Wayne?” Wade asked. He was serious. I could hardly speak. “Um I have to
lean over my change table,” I mumbled.“He has a change table!” Christopher said. “Does he sleep in a crib?”“I thought of it, believe me,” my aunt said.“Well I’d love to stick around for baby’s diaper change,” he said, “but
I have to get going.” At least there was that.The whole degrading episode unfolded pretty much as I imagined it would.
Upstairs, I was told to take my rubber pants off, to unpin my diapers
and drop them in the diaper pail. I was really smelly, and very nervous
about what was coming. And of course I was in total humiliation.“Rick, hand me the baby wipes off the shelf there. And get me the strap.
Then get diapers ready for him like Adam showed us.” He handed me a
Huggies wipe. “Here, clean yourself off.” I did the best I could, but it
was hard with them watching, plus my hands were shaky and I did a bad
job. I dropped the wipe on top of the change table. “There. Now get in
position exactly as you do when Adam spanks you. I did. I felt cold
leather as Wade lined up the strap with my butt. ThenWhack! My
backside was still wet from the wipe, thus adding to the sting. After
fifteen blistering strokes he stopped, and thinking the spanking was
over, I straightened up.“Lean back over, Wayne. We’re not finished yet.” Now it was Rick’s turn,
and I got fifteen more with the strap, and was bawling by the time they
diapered me. They used plastic gloves, and fumbled a bit getting the
diapers pinned on, and put me in the same rubber pants I had been
wearing, with the result that for the rest of the day I exuded such a
strong smell of urine that my aunt checked me twice to see if I was wet
again. Nothing would have surprised me at this point. My sense of shame
at having been both spanked and diapered by my younger cousins was so
strong anything could have happened. I couldn’t look them in the eye,
and they couldn’t stop smirking.“I need one of you to baby-sit your cousin,” Aunt Jane said. That’s how
she talked, right from the beginning; I always had a ‘baby-sitter’ and
was never allowed to be in the house alone. Since my wetting accidents
she had taken to checking my diapers for wetness quite frequently, no
matter who was around, and she encouraged Adam and my cousins to do the
same.“Can’t Adam do it?” Rick asked.“No. He’s at his friend Charlie’s for the night,” Aunt Jane said. “Whose
turn is it?”“It’s mine,” Brad said. “Darn. We were going to see a movie with
Christopher. Instead, I get to stay home and change Wayne’s diapers.
Great!”After Rick left and my aunt went to her bridge club, Brad was still in a
funk. “I’m warning you Wayne. If you make me change your diapers, I’m
going to spank you first. Got it?” I stayed dry.The time slowly went by, and seemed longer because for the whole time I
was unable to leave the house. I had one more wetting incident. On the
second last morning when I was changed Adam put me in my yellow ‘baby
pants’. Later in the day, when Christopher came to the house and saw me
in them, I just lost it and soaked myself. Having learned from the last
time, I nervously told my aunt I was wet. I was sent upstairs with Adam
to be changed. He wasn’t pleased, but I wasn’t spanked; however he put
me back in the despised ‘baby pants’. You’d think it wouldn’t matter—if
you’re already wearing diapers and plastic or rubber pants, what
difference does it make if the pants are yellow and have koala bears on
them? But wearing them made me feel worse. It was like an extra little
bit of ridicule. Christopher laughed at me and spoke in ‘baby talk’.
“Did little Wayne get his diapers changed? Nice baby pants, dude!”And then it was finally time to go home. I had assumed I would get my
pants and underwear back, and was really looking forward to feeling like
a ‘big boy’ again, if only until diaper time in the evening. But it was
not to be. Both Adam and Aunt Jane discussed the matter of my frequent
day wetting with my mother, and she was convinced that I should stay in
diapers until I learned to control myself. “I think he needs to be
toilet trained all over again,” mused Aunt Jane. So when my Mom came to
pick us up, I was wearing only a tee-shirt, diapers, plastic pants, and
shoes and socks. My diaper pail was packed with all my ‘baby’ stuff. I
said goodbye to my Aunt and cousins “Stay dry, man,” Bradlaughed. I
guess they were glad to see me go. So I had to walk to the car carrying
my diaper pail and wearing diapers. It was very weird to be outside in
just diapers, and I felt very exposed. The car was close by, and I
waited nervously for my Mom to open the trunk for the diaper pail and
the suitcase containing our other clothes. Just then three kids came
along on bikes. They seemed to be about thirteen or fourteen years old.
I hoped they wouldn’t notice me, but one did, and they stopped.“Carl! Frank! Check it out—the guy’s wearing diapers!”“Man oh man, he is! He’s wearingdiapers!” There was
nothing I could do. They were laughing and pointing. Their ‘leader’
spoke to my Mom. “Lady, how come the kid is in diapers?”“Why do you think? Because he needs them, that’s why.”They thought this was hilarious. “Because he needs them, that’s
why” they kept repeating. “Because he’s a pee-baby, that’s why!”
Pee-baby or not, I was wet again.“See what you leave yourself in for?” my Mom asked as I finally stumbled
into the car, on the verge of tears.Back home before taking my stuff upstairs my Dad examined my calendar.
“You didn’t have one dry night while we were away. And why do some of
these dates have two ‘W’s on them?”“Because he’s been wetting during the day, which is why he’s in diapers
full-time,” Adam said.“Well you better be toilet-trained by September, or you’ll be wearing
them to school,” Dad warned. “Are you wet right now?” I was pretty
smelly, and my diapers were sagging.“Yes.”“Adam, deal with him, will you?”“I’m so sick of changing his diapers!”This time I did get spanked. I noticed that Adam didn’t ask anyone’s
permission, he just gave me twenty with the strap before diapering me. I
hoped that this wasn’t a new trend. My parents had to have heard what
happened, but they didn’t say anything.I gradually reduced my daytime wetting accidents, and within two weeks I
was back in ‘big-boy’ underwear during the day. It felt good. I did wet
my diapers a couple of times when my brother had friends over in the
evening and they teased me, but both times I managed to get away with it.After a routine visit to my doctor on a Monday during which he saw
evidence of my regular Sunday spanking, he convinced my Mom to stop the
practice. She made it clear that I would still be punished for defiance
or non-cooperation when it came to being diapered, but the Sunday
spankings were a thing of the past. What a relief! The calendar remained
a record of my nightly shame, however, and I was still wetting as often.
Then a bad thing happened.My Mom was always entering contests. Once in awhile she would win some
small thing, but this time she won big. It was a trip for four to Disney
World. For four days. All expenses paid. Everyone was excited. But then
my parents gradually decided that it would be better not to have to deal
with a diapered bedwetter in a hotel. I would stay home. It was actually
a ‘lesson’ for me—there were consequences for being a bedwetter. At
first my brother was very upset because he assumed he would have to stay
and ‘baby-sit’ me, but my Mom assured him that not only was he going,
but if he wanted, Rachel could take my place.“It’ll be a real holiday for you,” she said.“But who’ll look after Wayne?” he asked.“We’ll just have to find a babysitter for him,” she said.“Could Charlie do it if he was willing?”“I don’t see why not, and we could pay him. Would he be willing to
change Wayne’s diapers?”“Maybe. I’ll ask him. I know he could use the money.” Adam called
Charlie and invited him over.“Charlie, we need a favor. We won a trip to Disney World, but we need a
babysitter for Wayne. It’d be for four days. Would you consider moving
in and babysitting?”“I’d have to change his diapers?” He looked at me doubtfully.“Yes. But we’d pay you $200.”“Heck, for $200 I’ll change his diapers. Pass the baby powder, dude!
Besides, I know how ‘cause I’ve seen Adam do it, and I even did it once.
Deal!”On Friday Charlie arrived with a packsack around 4 pm, and my parents,
Adam and Rachel left soon after. I had been instructed that Charlie was
in charge, and that I was to mind whatever he said. This subservient
relationship made me shy and nervous around him. I stayed in my room
while he watched TV downstairs. At about 5 o’clock he came into my room.
“Okay, Wayne, let’s put you in diapers.”“What? Now? But it’s only 5 o’clock.” I felt a sense of panic.“I have friends coming over. Would you rather I did it in front of them?
Get yourself ready.” He was busy making up diapers for me on my change
pad. I very reluctantly began to get undressed. Horribly embarrassed, I
was about to climb up on the change table, but he stopped me.“Wait, there’s something I need to do first.” He forced me to bend over,
in spanking position. “Wait.” He went to my closet, and I knew he was
getting the strap.“But I didn’t do anything!”“Right, and this is going to keep it that way. Consider it a pre-emptive
spanking, and maybe you’ll only have to get one. It was your brother’s
idea that I show you who’s boss.”The injustice of it and the pain made me cry. Charlie spanked me hard,
maybe twenty-five times, I’m not sure. Then I was on the change table.
But before he could diaper me, the doorbell rang. “Don’t move,” he said,
and went to answer the door. A moment later I heard him say “Hey Vince!
Come on in!” I heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and then Vince, a
total stranger, was staring at me, lying naked except for a Tee-shirt on
my diapers.“I take it this is bedwetter Wayne that I’ve been hearing about?”“Yep. I just need to diaper him.”“You don’t look like the babysitting type, Charlie; gentle, nurturing…”“I’m not. I just spanked him. It’s the money, Vince.”“Oh, that’s why he’s blubbering. Sweet. And I notice he’s got no hair
down there.”“Right. Adam calls it his ‘diaper-rash prevention program’. Seems he got
diaper rash so bad one time he had to miss school. Imagine that—missing
high school because of diaper rash!” They both laughed. So now he has to
take a Bic razor into the shower.” Charlie powdered me, pulled the
diapers up between my legs, and pinned them on.“Hey, this is good practice for when you have a baby of your own,” Vince
said. Charlie had chosen a pair of clear snap-on plastic pants that had
belonged to ex-bedwetter Richard, and he put them on me. I never felt so
helpless and babyish as he snapped them on, with Vince watching. They
were thick and noisy, and I crinkled as I climbed off the change table
and waddled toward the door, my head hung in shame. I knew that if I
committed the ultimate disgrace and wet my diapers, the result would be
plainly visible through the clear plastic.The doorbell rang twice more. The first time it was Axel, who had seen
me put in diapers by Adam. After greeting the others, he looked at me
and shook his head. “I see there hasn’t been much progress on the toilet
training front,” he said. The second ring announced two guys, Rich and
Steven.“Man, shouldn’t he be in a playpen or something?” Rich said.“No offense, dude, but I can’t think of a bigger case of a loser than
being a teenage bedwetter in diapers,” Steven said. I was taunted and
teased through supper (Charlie ordered pizza), until around 8 o’clock
Axel noticed something.“I think Wayne wet his diapers, Charlie.” It was true. I was wet, but
not soaked. It showed, though. All the teasing and humiliation had taken
a toll. I was mortified as they all stared and commented. “Man, he
actually peed his diapers!”“Well I have news for you, Wayne,” Charlie said. “I’m not changing you.
You can just stay wet. Now go up to bed.” I could feel their eyes on my
diapers as I timorously left the room to head upstairs. “Nitey-nite,
baby Wayne.” Laughter. A few other things happened while Charlie babysat
me—his girlfriend came over and made merciless fun of me as Charlie
diapered me and afterwards, and another time Charlie’s twelve year old
brother came over just after I had been put in diapers, and he wouldn’t
stop teasing. “Hey baby Wayne, how do you like wearing diapers?” Stuff
like that, but I was used to it by now.In fact my life got quite a bit better—no more spankings unless I really
mess up, in which case it’s my own fault, and I finally prevailed on my
Mom, with Adam’s consent, to finally allow me to diaper myself, a vast
improvement. There are strict conditions—I have to be in diapers by
eight o’clock, no exceptions, and I’m still not allowed to wear anything
over my waterproof pants, so it’s still very embarrassing and I still
get teased, but it’s a lot better than it was. I get out of diapers when
I’ve been consistently dry for 90 days. My record so far? I once had two
consecutive dry nights. Well it’s nice to have a goal…