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by
Jennie

·

Published 2016-05-25
· Updated 2020-12-08

I was shocked. My father held up a disposable baby diaper that he’d found in my closet. He and my mother looked at me seriously.
“Do you like to wear these?” he asked me again.
Perhaps it was something in his voice, the total lack of anything threatening, but I answered, “Yes.”
“Is it because they help keep your bed dry?”
Mom said, “Let me ask this way. If you had your choice, if nobody would know, would you wear diapers just to bed, or all the time?”
I swallowed. My throat had suddenly become very dry. “All the time,” I answered.
“That’s what we thought,” Mom said. “Don’t worry, dear, you’re not in trouble. We just want to know about these things. Now, come upstairs.”
“But I have to put my Legos away,” I protested.
“No, you don’t,” said Dad. “You’ll be right back to them in a minute. We just have to show you something first.”
I was the last one up to my room, because my parents had such long legs compared to mine. The first thing I saw was Mom, holding open my underwear drawer so that I could see inside.
There were diapers in my underwear drawer.
As had happened when Dad had shown me the diaper he had found in my closet, I was too shocked to speak for what seemed like minutes. Mom took one of the diapers out and showed it to me. It looked bigger than the diapers I liked to put on at night. “Pharmacies in our area sell these for children with bedwetting problems … and children like you,” she said.
“You want me to wear those at night?” I asked, my eyes wide in amazement.
Dad answered, “No, we want you to wear them all the time. We can give your underwear away to Goodwill. That is, if that’s what you want.”
“Before you say yes,” Mom said, holding the diaper, “you have to know what it means. You must use your diapers for everything, both number one and number two. You won’t be using toilets anymore.”
This sounded great to me. “Yes,” I said.
“If we do catch you using a toilet, it’s back to underwear for you, and we’ll never make this offer again.”
That limited my options, but it was fine with me. “Yes,” I said.
“You’ll be changed, or at least checked, in the morning, at noon, in the afternoon, and at bedtime.”
“In between those times,” she went on, “you’ll have to ask one of us if you need to be changed, and that includes your sister. I’m sure she’s gotten very good at changing diapers from her babysitting.”
My sister? Well, of course she’d find out about this, if my parents hadn’t already told her. “Yes,” I said.
“When we go out, we’ll be bringing along a diaper bag for you, and your father may have to change you in public restrooms.”
That would be embarrassing, but who would see me? Only people I didn’t know. “Yes,” I said.
“Do you still want this?” Dad asked.
I swallowed again. What would happen if the other kids at school found out about it? What would my friends say? My mind found ways to rationalize everything. The kids at school would tease me, but I thought I could take it. And if my friends were really my friends, they’d stay my friends no matter what. Once again, I said, “Yes.”
“All right,” said Mom, “take off your shoes, pants and underpants and come sit on your bed.”
I did. I hate when my shoelaces tangle when I’m in a hurry. I sat on the bed with my bare bottom. Mom had gotten some baby powder from another dresser drawer.
She opened up the diaper and said, “OK, scoot back and lie down.” When I did, she slid the back end of the diaper under me with my excited cooperation. She sprinkled powder all over the places that would soon be once more perpetually covered by diapers, and spread the powder with her hand. Then she flattened the front of the diaper against my groin and fastened it with the tapes.
Mom dusted her powdered hands off against each other and said, “All right, Chris, put your pants and shoes back on, and go finish playing with your Legos. It’s almost bedtime, and tomorrow’s a school day.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I said, and I meant it. It felt strange, wearing diapers instead of underwear under my pants, but it was exciting too. I’d dreamed of being able to wear diapers without having to hide it, and now my dream had come true.
It felt weird, I thought. The diapers filled my pants out, and they crinkled whenever I moved. As I played with my Legos on the living room floor in front of the TV, my thirteen-year-old sister Sarah walked by. “So, you’re back in diapers now,” she remarked.
“Yeah!” I answered. “Umm, Mom and Dad said I could ask you to change me?”
“They told me,” she said, apparently unexcited. “Just don’t ask too often.” She sat down to watch TV.
“Chris, time for bed,” called Dad from upstairs.
“Aww,” I complained. I started putting my Legos away.
I took off my clothes and put on my pajamas, the fabric whispering against my diaper’s outer plastic. I got in bed, but I found that I couldn’t lie on my side like I always did, because my diaper bunched uncomfortably between my legs. I curled one leg upward, and the bunching eased. I supposed that I’d have to sleep like that from now on.
As I went off to sleep, I started dreaming about being a little baby again, sleeping in a crib, sucking on a pacifier …
My alarm clock beeped. It was 7:00, time to get up. I was happy when I realized that I hadn’t wet the bed overnight. Then I reached down to take my pajamas off and remembered that I was in diapers. They felt like very wet diapers, too. I had wet in my sleep, but the wetness hadn’t made it to my bed.
I wasn’t going to be able to get dressed until somebody changed my diapers. Nobody else was up yet, though, so I took my pajamas off and tried to change myself.
Everything went smoothly until Dad came in. I had rolled up the wet diaper and was reaching into the drawer for another one when I heard him say, “No, Chris; I’ll change you.”
He took out the baby powder and some baby wipes. As he cleaned my diaper region with one of the wipes he told me, “We’ve got to make sure you’re cleaned off with every change, or you might get diaper rash.” He finished and put a fresh diaper on me, then opened my closet door and tossed the old diaper into a diaper pail that I hadn’t known was there. “OK, get dressed now,” he said. I did, then I washed up in the bathroom, then I went downstairs for breakfast.
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I was so scared that somebody was going to find out I had diapers on. The things made crinkling noises every time I moved, and I had to walk all the way to school! Okay, it was only six blocks, but it seemed like a mile in diapers.
I saw other kids, also on their way to school. They looked at me, but no more intently than usual, I hoped. I caught up with two of my friends.
Jeff and Dave were talking. “OK, so Superman comes from Krypton,” said Dave, “but I bet you don’t know what planet Spider-Man comes from.” I didn’t know either. Obviously they didn’t notice my diapers.
We arrived at school, I went into our classroom, and Mrs. Evers began today’s math lesson. Multiplication. Yuck.
As I sat there, I almost forgot that I had diapers on. I certainly wasn’t thinking about them. As time went by, though, I became aware of the fact that I needed to pee.
What could I do? If I waited, it would only get worse. The diaper was there, so I let go. I could feel the warm wetness, and then I felt it spread. I didn’t have to go anymore, but I was worried: Would it leak out? When I stood up, would there be wet spots on my pants? I didn’t dare look down, for fear someone else would see me looking down, and what if there were something to look at?
Then it was time for music class, which was held in another classroom. I had to get up. I decided I’d check my pants out while everybody else was busy getting ready to go. I didn’t know what I’d do if they were wet … but fortunately, my pants weren’t wet, front or back. My diaper had done its job. I worried a bit about what would happen if I had to go again before I went home for lunch, but I decided not to worry about it unless it happened. I went to music class, which was always fun. Singing and clapping in rhythm; was this learning or playing?
Of course I didn’t know about it at the time, but I later found out that my parents had a talk that morning before Dad went to work. It must have gone something like this. He said, “So, do you think it’ll work?”
Mom said, “You mean putting Chris back into diapers? Hmm, at the very least we won’t be washing his sheets anymore.”
“Yeah, but we’ll have to change him again, and that’s almost as bad.”
“Well, remember why we’re doing it,” Mom said seriously. “The doctor said his wanting to wear diapers was probably a sexual thing, and we don’t want to traumatize him by making him feel guilty about wanting them. That could lead to his developing a fetish for them when he gets older.”
Dad added, “And maybe if we make him wear diapers he’ll get sick of them, and he won’t want them after a while.”
Mom nodded. “Maybe. But remember, that’s only a possibility.”
“I don’t want to have to go on changing Chris’ diapers for the rest of his life!” Dad exaggerates when he gets angry.
Mom smiled. “We won’t, of course. If time goes by, and he still wants to be in diapers, we’ll just have to show him how to change himself. Then the only difference between raising him and raising any other boy will be the expense of the diapers.”
After music class came reading class, but first everybody who had to was allowed to use the bathroom. If I hadn’t wet my diapers during math, I definitely would have had to go by now. But I remembered my mother’s words: “If we do catch you using a toilet, it’s back to underwear for you, and we’ll never make this offer again.” For all the fear and embarrassment, I liked being in diapers, so even if I had held off until now I’d be wetting my diapers instead of using the bathroom.
“Don’t you have to go, Chris?” asked Mrs. Evers, startling me a little.
“You’re sure? You usually go at this time, and I don’t want you disrupting class by asking to go.” Most of the students were out of the bathroom by now.
“Really, ma’am, I don’t have to go right now.”
Unknown to me, the class bully Curt was talking to one of his cronies, Stu. “Look at Miss Chris over there. He doesn’t have to go to the bathroom. I’ll bet that diaper baby’s wetting his diapers right now.” He laughed.
Stu laughed too, one of those “it’s not really funny, but I’d better laugh anyway or he’ll think I’m a dweeb” laughs. He said, “Yeah, Chris Miss.” They were just making cruel jokes, of course; there was no way they could have known I really did have diapers on.
Curt smiled a smile that said, “I made a joke, he laughed. See? Everybody thinks I’m the coolest.” This is not what he said, of course. He just smiled that self- satisfied smile, then picked another boy in our class to make fun of.
When everyone was out of the bathroom, Mrs. Evers walked the class back to our regular classroom for reading.
Well, it wasn’t long until I had to pee again. There I was, sitting in class, and I’d passed up the chance to go earlier. What was more, I’d already wet my diaper earlier in the morning, and I wasn’t sure they could absorb another drenching.
I thought about my options. I could wait until lunchtime, go home, and use the … no, I couldn’t use the toilet, could I? I could go home, get a change, and wet my diaper then. But would they change me again before I went back to school?
I couldn’t think of what to do, so I tried to hold on and kept listening to the teacher. Soon, though, my body made up my mind for me. It was almost lunchtime, and I had to go! I tried to cross my legs, but I didn’t want to wring any wetness out of the diaper, so I couldn’t cross them very far. I fidgeted a little, but it didn’t help much. Finally, I wet the diaper just a little, to relieve the pressure.
I could feel the warm wetness, but then it disappeared, just as it had earlier when the diaper was completely dry. I let a little more go, and it disappeared as quickly. This was working. I felt less pressure, and I didn’t think the diaper had leaked.
As the minutes ticked by to lunchtime, though, the pressure built up again, but just when I thought I’d have to let a little more out, the teacher dismissed class, and I got up.
What luck! When I was walking, I didn’t feel like I had to go. I’d just walk home, then I could wet my diaper before Mom changed me. I got my book bag and walked out the door.
As I quickly walked home, I wondered whether I could count on my luck every day, or whether I’d have to do something about it. Before I got any further on that thought, I heard a nearby loud whistle. I was nearing the train tracks, and a train was coming. If I had to stop, I might wet my diaper! Keeping moving was the only thing keeping me from letting go. I could see the train coming now. I ran for the tracks, but the train was far faster. I had to stop.
As I caught my breath after running, the pressure returned in full force. I knew there was nothing I could do. My bladder involuntarily let go. I felt myself soaking my diaper, and I knew it wasn’t going to absorb it all this time. The only question was whether the end of the train would pass by before I was finished.
It did. I ran the rest of the way home, and I could feel the wetness down the legs of my pants. I hoped to God nobody saw me. Mom met me at the door (how did she do that? Maybe she could hear my footsteps on the porch) and said, “My goodness, what happened to you?”
“Had to go,” I said, short of breath; “diapers … couldn’t hold it.”
“I’d better change your diapers,” Mom said, “and your pants! You really did a number on them. C’mon upstairs.”
We climbed the stairs to my room. She said, “If one diaper isn’t going to hold you from morning to lunchtime, maybe we’ll have to get you changed more often.”
“More often?” I wondered what that meant, but we were in my room, and Mom had me lie down so she could change me.
“Your father and I don’t have time to come to school to change you,” she said, after stripping off my wet pants, “so we’ll have you take some extra diapers to school in your book bag, and you can go to the nurse’s office when the others go to the bathroom.” She unfastened my soaked diaper and dropped it into my diaper pail.
The nurse? That wasn’t part of the deal! “But Mom,” I said, “why bother the nurse? I mean, I’m not sick or anything.”
As she cleaned my diaper region with a baby wipe she said, “I don’t know who else is going to do it. Or would you rather not wear the diapers? That’s always an option.”
“No!” I said. “I mean, I want to keep wearing the diapers.”
She sprinkled baby powder all over me. “OK, then you’ll have to report to the nurse in the middle of the morning and the middle of the afternoon, or they’ll call your name on the PA.”
“But what if the nurse tells other people?”
“Chris, she’s a professional. They don’t talk to anybody about their patients.”
“OK,” I said. What choice did I have? Mom put a fresh diaper on me, found me a dry pair of pants, and put an extra diaper into my book bag while I put the dry pants on and my shoes back on. We went downstairs for lunch.
After lunch I headed back to school with my fresh pair of pants. I hoped I could make it through the whole afternoon without having to wet the diaper I wore underneath them. I remembered what Mom had said as I got ready to leave: “Remember, during your afternoon break go to the nurse and have her change you.”
“But Mom,” I had said, “I’m sure the nurse is busy. Why should we bother her?”
“If you’re going to wear diapers at school, you’re going to have to get them changed while you’re there. Who else is going to do it? Your teacher? Remember, you can’t change them yourself; that’s part of the deal.”
“Remember also,” Mom had concluded, “you don’t have to wear these diapers. You can quit anytime you want.”
“No!” I had objected. In the short run, giving the diapers up would mean that nobody at school would ever have to find out about them. But in the long run, it would also mean that I would never be allowed to wear diapers again!
“All right, then. I’m writing you a note for your teacher and one for the nurse. Don’t forget!” Mom had written two notes that were now in my book bag.
As I walked back into the building, I was unaware that Curt and Stu were hanging around by the doorway. “Hey, look,” Curt said quietly to Stu, “there goes Miss Chris. And there’s … wait, was Chris wearing those khaki pants this morning?”
“No, he had jeans on this morning,” Stu said.
“I wonder why the change. Hey, didn’t I see him running home just a little while ago…?” Curt had a nasty grin on his face.
The afternoon went all right, but the milk I’d drunk at lunchtime came back to haunt me during social studies. Almost unworried, I wet my diaper, knowing now that holding it would just lead to an accident later. But I also knew that this would mean I’d have to see the nurse.
When the afternoon break came, I gave Mom’s note to Mrs. Evers, then took my book bag and walked slowly toward the office. It felt like my heart was in my mouth. I stood before the door, paused, and finally knocked.
The door opened. “Hello,” said the nurse. “You can just come in;
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