Untitled 5
Untitled 5
"Thomas J. Peters...!" I snapped awake at my moms voice. She always used my full name when I was in trouble, and as I collected myself from my slumber, I started to realize I wasn't going to be able to talk my way out of this one. Dressed in just white T-shirt, and diaper I quickly grabbed my blanket, and pulled it over myself, hiding my diaper.
I must of kicked the blanket off last night while I was sleeping, I thought to myself. My mom continued to stare at me as if waiting for an explanation. I was just about to defend myself when she interrupted with, "Don't even bother!" She walked over to me from the doorway, where she was standing in disbelief, and removed the cover. A stench of old urine whiffed pass my nose.
My stomach sank, because I knew I purposely wet the diaper last night. "Well I see your wet too!" she exclaimed. "I thought you where 14, but I must have been mistaken." She sat on the edge of my bed, and looked at me in disgust for what seemed like eternity.
Then before I knew it she removed my T-shirt, and calmly said "Wait here.", as she walked out of the room. As I sat in my room, dressed in just my wet diaper, I knew things couldn't get much much worse. I was wrong when she walked in with something I hadn't seen since I was six. It had such an impact on me when I was young, that the name "old hickory", still instilled fear in me. She pulled out my desk chair, and placed
it in the middle of my room.
As she grabbed my upper arm, just above the elbow, my diaper began to sag even more as I felt a warm stream of urine release from my bladder. She must of knew that the paddle of my youth would have such an effect on me, because she then layed a towel over her lap as she sat down in the chair. She quickly loosened the top tapes of my diaper, and pulled me forward, which forced me into the position.
With the tapes loosened, she rolled down the back of the diaper exposing my bare bottom. Again, knowing what was to come next, my bladder released the last drops of urine as I felt more warmth saturate the diaper. I then felt, and heard the sickening thwaks against my bare cheeks as the wood made contact. I didn't think I would end up crying, but half way through I was screaming, and begging her stop.
When she finished she helped me off her lap, hugged me, and said "I'm sorry, but when littler boys, like you, are bad they need disciplined." Through my sobbing I didn't even notice how she phrased the sentence. "By the looks of the towel I see you got excited." Still sobbing from the pain, I looked at the towel, and saw the result, which left a wet mark of where the diaper must of leaked.
As she got up from the chair she answered herself saying, "I'll have to wash this." She then said to me "Stay here, I'll be back to help you with that wet diaper." As she left the room, I caught a blurry glimpse from my bedroom mirror of my cheery red behind hanging out of a half opened diaper. I continued to rub it, willing to do anything to make the pain stop.
My mom eventually came back in with a big towel, and asked me where I kept my supplies. "My dresser drawer." I said with tears still in me eyes. "Tommy it looks like your going to need help, you just have diapers in here." She continued, "We need to go out, and pick up some supplies."
She closed the drawer, and turned her attention back to my diaper. " should change you now, but the drug store is just up the street." She pulled me close to her, and sat down in the desk chair. Pulling the back of the diaper up she refastened the top tapes of the diaper. She then helped me put on my jeans and T-shirt. She grabbed her keys, and said, "Lets go!" Still in shock I followed her to the car.
As we drove to store she looked at me, and smiled. "Why are you smiling?", I asked cautiously. "The last time you got that excited by old hickory you were about 3." Trying to cover up my embarrassment I responded, "What do you mean?" She exclaimed, "Mothers can tell when their little boys wet themselves. I noticed the wet spot on your diaper grew a little when I grabbed your arm, and you wet again when you where over my knee." Confused as where she was headed with this I responded, "So!" Her demeanor changed as she said "As a punishment you will have to prove to me your not 3." She then recounted to herself, "Since I didn't potty train you until you where 4 I'll have to start diapering you again." I shouted in surprise, "What?"
To be Continued...
written by: Unknown