Old Habits Die Hard - By Bad Lil'Boy
Summary: This is a true story about my mom making me wear diapers at the age of 9 years old because I had toileting accidents. By the way, this was the early 60s.
I would love to hear from other AB/DL's and what they think about my story (Female AB/DL's especially welcome)- firstname.lastname@example.org
Hi, my name is John. As a 9-year-old boy, I was of average height and weight, muscular even then, and very good looking. (good genes) lol. Not bragging, just laying the foundation to the story. I mean you know. It "was" my passport in getting away with a lot of crap all my life. I was also very well mannered, that helped, too.
My downfall was a habit I had. I don't know how it started, why or when. I just remember that all through my childhood I could not or would not stop messing my pants. It was never that I just completely let go in my pants, I just wouldn't go to the bathroom to do a number two, until some of it had already come out in my pants. I would sit on the floor when as the urge got real strong and try to hold it, sometimes doing this a few times would prolong my having to make a trip to the bathroom for a couple hours. Like I said, I don't know how or why I started doing this, but it was an everyday thing.
When I would have the accidents in my pants it was usually a table spoon in volume, roughly, to give you an idea, and fortunately I was never a person who had a bad odor problem; it was noticeable at best, never really "obvious" or overwhelming. You gotta realize I messed my pants every day, and only a handful of times do I ever remember hearing someone say, "something stinks," or even, "Did you mess your pants?" or something like that. Now there were those times too, like one Saturday morning I was watching cartoons when the urge hit to go to the bathroom. It came on so strong and fast I couldn't get up off the floor. I was just sitting there pushing down on the floor as hard as I could, trying to hold it. It was one of those urges that distorts your face, you know, like a grimace, or retarded smile. Then it started coming out uncontrollably. (which was always the case) before I would take my ass to the bathroom. But this time it was more like a third of a cup in volume, which is a lot of crap in your pants when you're 9 years old. That's when my mom would catch me. Otherwise, I only heard about my dirty underwear when she did the laundry. But this Saturday morning she caught me. She walked by me, sniffing.
"John, did you mess your pants?"
"Nooo," I answered.
"Get up," she ordered. As I stood up she grabbed my arm, turned me around, bent over, and sniffed again.
"You did!" she said in an upset tone. "You get yourself in that bathroom. NOW!" So I went to the bathroom with her right behind me. She opened the hamper, took out a dirty towel and spread it on the floor.
"Raise your arms!" She pulled my buttoned P. J. Top up over my head and dropped into the corner, then pulled my P. J. Bottoms down and dropped them into the corner of the bathroom as well. "Spread your legs a little," she ordered as she stuck her thumbs into the waistband of my underwear briefs and began to pull them down.
"Good grief, you're a mess!" she said as she pulled my underwear down.
"You are way too old to be messing your pants like this. You should be ashamed of yourself!" She had me step out of my dirty underwear as I stood on the towel. "I swear, I'm gonna put a diaper on you if you don't stop messing your pants. Now get on the toilet!"
After I finished going to the bathroom my mom would make me bend over while sitting on the potty and would wipe me because my butt was such a mess that I sometimes got it on my wrist and hand trying to clean myself, and making a bigger mess would really get her into a rage. After wiping me with toilet paper she would have me stand on the towel again. She would take a washcloth from the cabinet and dampen it and then clean my butt with that, complaining the whole time. After I was clean she would pick up my underwear from the towel on the floor, turn them inside out and hand them to me. I would have to dunk them in and out of the commode to get most of the stuff out before she would put them in the laundry. She would leave to get me a clean pair of underwear while I was doing this.
As I stood there naked dunking my dirty underwear in and out of the commode to rinse them out, my mom was down the hall in my room getting me a clean pair, still fussing loudly.
"I'm gonna buy some diapers for you, John, and if you don't stop messing your pants, you are gonna wear a diaper; do you hear me?"
When she got back she stepped up to the commode and looked into the toilet, saying, "Hold on to them tightly now!" As I held them by the waistband, she flushed the commode so they could now be rinsed in cleaner water.
"That's good enough for now," she said. As I raised my hand for the clean underwear she was holding. She grabbed me by the wrist and led me into the living room at a fairly fast pace. She then sat on the edge of the couch and before I knew it, I was over her lap. She pulled me over so fast. I had to catch myself with both hands against the floor, just to keep my head from hitting. With her left hand on my back and her right hand on my butt, she asks, "Now John, why did you lie to me when I asked you if you messed your pants?"
"I don't know." That was my standard answer to just about question about any of my behavior problems at the time. Then the spanking started. With a hard smack on my butt between every word.
"You. *SMACK*. Will. *SMACK*. Not. *SMACK*. Lie. *SMACK*. To. *SMACK*. Me! Do you understand me, John?" she asked as my legs were flailing about wildly in the air.
"Yes, I promise I won't lie anymore!" I answered, but with my butt high up on her lap. My feet off the floor, the spanking went on. Bracing myself against the floor with both hands, I couldn't raise a hand to defend my butt against this painful, painful, spanking. Finally it was over.
She helped me to my feet and then held my underwear out for me to step into them.
"Now John, listen to me," she said as I stepped into my underwear and she began pulling them up. "Next week we will be moving in with Frank and the girls and I know you don't want them to know that you still mess your pants. And I (KNOW) you don't want me to put a diaper on you and have everyone laughing at you for wearing a diaper at 9 years old! DO you?"
"No!" I answered.
"Well then. I'd suggest you stop doing this right now, okay? This is a chance to start over, a new family, a new school, everything. I want today to be the last time that you do this; do you understand?"
"Yes, mom," I answered.
>>Fast forwarding now. >>
My mom remarried after the school year ended and we moved in with Frank, my new step dad, and his two daughters— Beth, 12 years old, and Tina, 10 years old.
I had met them before and spent time with on several occasions before the wedding and the move-in. We got along great back then, but that's because at the time the girls hadn't thought about nor did I know that I would have to have one of the bedrooms in their three-bedroom-house, putting the girls in one bedroom together. They were furious about it and it became a source of tension between them and myself.
Now with the girls bitter about being put together in one room and my toileting "accidents". Now common knowledge in the household because they never stopped, the girls, especially the oldest one Beth would use every opportunity to humiliate me, saying things like, "your momma needs to put a diaper on you!" Which she got from her dad Frank, he was the worst. I hated him. He would tell my mom things like, "I'll bet you if I whipped his ass he would stop shitting his pants!" But mostly he told her that if I had to wear diapers for awhile I would stop it.
Anyway, one of my favorite places to go at that time was to a friend of my mom's named Juanita. She lived in yet another town not too far away and we often went there on the weekends. The three towns I've mentioned in this story are satellite communities each outside of a major metropolitan city. The adults were all friends that lived in that city when they were kids. But Juanita's was a fun place to go to. I had a lot of friends there my age to play with. She also had a playground in her backyard that was unbelievable at that time. And I spent a lot of time in her yard before I met the neighborhood kids. Then we would roam the whole neighborhood and wooded area playing army. I met all the guys through a girl named Naomi. She was my age (9). And was so cute, a beautiful smile and she was crazy about me. She was also a terrible tomboy and not afraid to get dirty or get hurt. She played army with all the guys she introduced me to and was accepted pretty much as one of the guys. But to me, well, I had a crush on her and she had one on me. She also had a huge tree in her yard, a tree house about 25 feet up and a thick rope with a stick of wood through it that you could swing clear across the yard on.
One time, we climbed up into the treehouse together. After a minute or two she said, "Something stinks!" and raised her foot to check the bottom of her shoe for dog poop. Then she checked her other shoe. So I did the same thing. We didn't see anything on our shoes. Then she looked at me with this sweet innocent blushing smile on her face and asked, "Did you mess your pants?"
"No!" I replied, though I did have a small amount in my pants as always. Then it was forgotten and we play. She was one of the few I mentioned at the beginning of the story that I remember and I'll never forget her or that look. You know, when you see shows like "Leave It to Beaver" and it shows boys despising little girls. I never got that. I always liked them and they always liked me. Forgive me, but in my haste to talk about Naomi, I failed to mention that she lived three houses down from my mom's friend Juanita.
Now getting back to Juanita. She was a large boisterous woman with a big laugh. She could be heard for a block. Okay, I might be exaggerating, but back then few people had air conditioning. They used fans and left the windows open. Or at least that was my world. She was married to a man who I had never met. I think he might have been a truck driver or something. I don't know. She, on the other hand, was running a day care center, you could say, before the term even existed, or at least I never heard the term until I was much older. She had kids of all ages staying there at different times. But like I said we always went there on the weekends if we went at all. But this time we went on a weekday. That would be a life-changing event for me.
I think it was on a Monday this time that we went to Juanita's house. As Juanita greeted us at the door and we walked in, everyone I think was kind of caught off guard as we encountered this Hispanic boy my height standing in the middle of the room in nothing but a thick white cotton flannel diaper. Juanita introduced him to us saying, "this is Rudy". My mom put her hand out to shake hands with him, saying "Hi, Rudy," but he didn't respond. He just stood there with his hands up in front of his face playing with his fingers and mumbling. Juanita explained that he was mentally retarded and autistic and couldn't speak. Then my mom, I guess to break the silence said, "Well, maybe I could get some of those diapers for John!" Then everyone laughed. I was so embarrassed and humiliated, and Juanita laughed loudest of all. I was so hurt. She had always been so nice to me, like a second mom. Then Juanita said. "No. Now, I know John isn't gonna need to wear diapers, are you, John?"
"Nooo!" I said my face red and my head bowed. Then Juanita said, "You know, Rudy is 9 years old also, but he has to wear diapers because he can't help going to the bathroom in his pants," she continued. "I've been working with him and trying to toilet train him for a couple years. But I don't know if he will ever learn to go to the bathroom on his own. "
Then Beth asked, "Does he have to go out like that? In just a diaper?"
"No," Juanita replied. "I have clothes for him to go out in. But around the house it just means more laundry to do. His shirt gets wet. His pants get wet, so I just let him wear a diaper." I think I was just holding my breath through this whole ordeal. I felt like I was gonna pass out if I didn't get out of there.
"I'm going to Naomi's," I said, headed for the backdoor.
"Whoa! Hold on, John!" my mom ordered. I stopped as I was headed for the kitchen which led to the backdoor.
"I want you to get a good look at Rudy, John," she said with a calm voice. "That's what you are gonna look like if you don't stop messing your pants!"
"Mommmmmm!" I said.
"I'm gonna get Juanita to make some of those diapers to take home with us today. Do you understand?"
"Yes," I answered. Then I turned and ran to get out of there.
I went to Naomi's and we got a bunch of kids together and play army for several hours. I was so glad to see her and we had so much fun that I forgot all about the humiliating time I had at Juanita's. When I heard my mom calling me that it was time to go. I had such a sad feeling come over me. I knew it may be a week or longer before I saw Naomi again.
When I got back to Juanita's my mom started in on me again. "See what I have here, John?" It looked like a big canvass suitcase to me. I said, "What?"
"Juanita gave me one of her old diaper bags, I've got powder, baby oil, diapers, pins, some old bottles and a couple of pacifiers," she said, showing me some of the stuff.
"Oh honey," Juanita said to my Mom. "I know John's not gonna need any of that stuff. You aren't gonna mess your pants anymore are you, John?"
"No!" I said totally embarrassed.
"Why of course you're not, you are much too old to wear a diaper." With that, everyone said bye and hugged and we went home.
Well, needless to say nothing changed over the next couple days, more accidents, more complaining from my mom as she found my dirty underwear in the laundry with varying degrees of mess in them, though nothing substantial in them, really. But my mom expected and demanded to find nothing. She would try to keep Frank and the girls from knowing anything just to keep peace in the house. But that was all about to come to an end.
One morning me and the girls were watching TV. Frank was sitting in his recliner reading the paper and my mom was sitting at the dining room table with the girls' Aunt Suzy (Frank's sister). I was lying on my tummy watching TV when I got the urge to go to the bathroom. I was holding it until it got stronger. Then I got up off my tummy and sat on the floor. This made it much easier to hold it in. Then the urge got stronger and stronger. I thought to myself, "Please, don't let me make a big mess." But it was already coming out a little. I just knew if I got up right then it would all come out. So I tried and tried to hold it. Again, it was one of those strong, powerful urges that distort your face; you can't help it. I didn't know Frank was looking at me at the time.
"John, what are you doing?" he demanded to know.
"Watching TV," I answered, scared to death.
"What's going on, Frank?" my mom asked from the next room.
"I think John's sitting there crapping his pants right now," Frank answered. My mom came in there right away and asked, "John, did you mess your pants again?"
"I smell it," said Beth.
"Me, too," said Tina.
I was still trying to hold this urge when my mom took my arm and pulled me up off the floor. As she stood me up the whole bowel movement I was trying to hold went into my underwear. She pulled my P. J. 's down right there to see my underwear.
"Good grief, John," she said as she saw the huge load sagging in my underwear. Beth and Tina just went "EWWWWWWWW!"
"John, you ought to be ashamed of yourself, why didn't you get in the bathroom?"
"I don't know," I responded.
"John, no one has been in there for some time. Why did you just sit there and mess your pants?"
"I don't know," I said again, and I really didn't, either. I don't know this habit came about.
"Make him wear those diapers for awhile, honey; that will break him of that!"
"Uh-huh, and who's gonna change him, Frank, YOU?"
"Look, if you wanna put up with this until he's in high school go ahead, I don't care. You're wiping his ass just about everyday, anyway!"
Then my mom hollered, "John, get in the bathroom!" She got a dirty towel from the hamper and had me stand on it as she was pulling my underwear down.
Frank hollered," I wouldn't worry about it, honey, maybe one day he will meet a nice girl who shits her pants!"
"FRANK, don't talk like that!" my mom yelled back.
"He's right, you know, John. You are not gonna stop doing this until I put a diaper on you. "
"No, mom, I promise I'll never do it again!"
"Do you know how pathetic you looked walking to the bathroom with your underwear full of crap swinging back and forth? There's no excuse for a healthy 9-year-old boy like you to be doing this. You're gonna wear a diaper!"
"No, mom, please, I promise I'll never mess my pants again!" As I stepped out of my underwear she said, "Now you get up there on that commode until I get back!" I could hear her in my room slamming drawers and so on. Then I heard her ask Aunt Suzy to come help her. They were talking but I couldn't make anything out except the word "refrigerator". When my mom got back she cleaned me up. I saw Beth and Tina looking in occasionally, then disappearing again as I looked up. My mom took a pile of washcloths from the cabinet and dampened them in the sink. Just then Aunt Suzy came into the bathroom.
"Stand up!" my mom said. As I stood up my mom took one hand and Aunt Suzy took the other. Then they started to lead me out of the bathroom. I tried digging my feet into the floor once I realized what was going on. My mom turned and said in a very angry voice.
"Don't you dare fight with me; you're already in big trouble, John. Don't make it worse for yourself!"
"I don't want everyone to see me like this!" I cried. Still, with my hands held above my head, they marched me into the living room totally naked. I could feel my butt cheeks sticking together a little as I was rushed along at this quick pace. MY mom just wiped me with toilet paper enough so that I didn't drop anything on the way to the living room. The girls laughed at me, pointing at my weenie jiggling as we approached the couch.
"Now, John, I want you to get up there and lay down on that newspaper!"
"No, mom, please, I won't do it anymore!"
Then Frank got up and came over.
"You do what your mother tells you to do, or I'll spank you myself!" Scared to death of Frank, I sat on the newspapers that were spread on the couch.
"Now turn around and lay down!" my mom ordered. So I did, bawling the whole time. Holding my privates with both hands, I lay back on the couch. As I did a part of the newspaper stuck to my butt and rolled up with me.
"Good grief, John, you're disgusting!" she said as she pulled the paper from my butt.
"Now, John, you're gonna have to move your hands; I can't clean you up or put a diaper on you with your hands in the way. I was crying so hard I could hardly see through the tears. "Mom please make the girls go away," I begged.
"John, how about you worry about you and not everyone else," my mom answered.
"But I don't want them looking at me like this, and make them stop laughing at me!"
"Move your hands or I'll call Frank over here," mom said. Reluctantly I moved my hands, exposing my little pee-pee and balls.
"I see your pee-pee! I see your pee-pee!" the girls chanted.
"Now, girls, that's not necessary," Aunt Suzy said with a laugh.
"Now spread your legs so I can get you cleaned up," mom said. "I guess if you're gonna mess your pants like a baby then we will have to clean you up like a baby. "
As I spread my knees apart, mom took one of the wet washcloths and started washing my pubic area, pulling up on my little penis and nut sack with the rag as she cleaned me.
"Now, raise your legs, John," my mom asked, so I did. "Higher, and spread them, too; I can't clean you like this." She then put her forearm against the back of my thighs and pushed until my knees were almost touching my shoulders.
"Good grief, John, what a mess, you should be ashamed of yourself laying here having your bottom cleaned like a baby!" she said. As she wiped me with the damp washcloth I looked at Beth and Tina. They were smiling and laughing.
"Look, it's moving," Beth said, pointing at my penis, her finger just inches away from it. I looked down there and saw my penis and scrotum shriveling up and shrinking, still damp from my mom washing them and slightly pulling at them with the rag as she cleaned me there.
"It's getting smaller," Tina said with a laugh. I just lay there, bawling.
"Mom, Aunt Suzy, please make the girls go away!" I said, crying louder now.
"If you don't want the girls to see you like this, then you won't mess your pants anymore after this!"
I really couldn't believe this was happening; it was like a bad dream. Then my Aunt Suzy was standing behind the couch where the living room met the dining room. She was taking things out of the diaper bag. She stuck the diaper pins into the cushion of the couch like where you lean back. Then she laid a bottle of baby powder there on the top of the back of the couch, then a bottle of baby oil. My Mom, still with her left forearm against the back of my thighs, pulled the newspapers out from under me and rolled them up with the dirty rags inside them.
"Honey, could you hand me one of those diapers?" she asked Aunt Suzy. With that Aunt Suzy handed her a diaper (rolled up like a sleeping bag you see on a horse at the back of the saddle). My mom placed it far up under my butt and rolled it out. Then she moved her arm from my legs and said, "Okay, John, you can put your feet down now." As soon as I was able to put my feet down, the reality hit me that I'm actually laying here completely naked on a thick cotton diaper!" I tried to set up right away, screaming, "Mom, please don't put a diaper on me; I'm too big to wear a diaper!"
Aunt Suzy caught me by the shoulders and tried to keep me down on my back.
"SHUSHHHHHHH!" my mom went. "STOP IT!" BE STILL AND LISTEN TO ME!"
"I DON'T WANNA WEAR A DIAPER!" I screamed again.
"John, listen to me," she said, squeezing my cheeks together with her hand over my mouth. "Now John, listen to me; don't act so surprised, I warned you! I told you and told you this was gonna happen if you didn't stop messing your pants."
"MOM, I PROMISE I WON'T DO IT ANYMORE! I'M TOO BIG TO WEAR A DIAPER!" I cried out loudly.
"Yes, you ARE too big to wear a diaper, John!" she responded. "But you're too big to be messing your pants everyday, too. Now LAY DOWN, NOW!"
Just then Frank walked up to the coffee table, pulling his belt from his pants.
"John, YOU LAY DOWN THERE LIKE SHE TOLD YOU AND LET HER GET THAT DIAPER ON YOU BEFORE I BELT YOUR ASS!" Even the girls weren't laughing now. When Frank was angry everyone walked on pins and needles. So, having no choice, I lay back down bawling loudly. My mom picked up the bottle of baby oil and poured some into her hand. As she started rubbing it around my lower belly, getting closer to my penis, my Aunt still behind the couch but leaning on it tried to talk to me. But I was screaming and fussing too loudly.
"John!! Johnnnn! I'm trying to talk to you!" she continued. "Now John, IF YOU WANNA CRY LIKE A BABY WHILE I DIAPER YOU, YOU GO RIGHT AHEAD. BUT YOU STOP THAT SCREAMING RIGHT NOW!"
But I couldn't. This was a nightmare.
"Suzy, I guess I'm gonna need that bottle after all!" My mom said. I saw Suzy hand my mom a full baby bottle of milk. Then my mom handed it to me.
"I don't want that mom; I'm not a baby!" She forced the nipple into my mouth and ordered me to hold it with both hands.
"NOW IF YOU WANNA CRY, YOU CRY WHILE YOU DRINK THAT!" she said," I took it out long enough to get out the word "MOM" when Frank said, "That's it."
"OK!" I cried putting it back into my mouth.
"YOU KEEP THAT IN YOUR MOUTH AND DRINK IT UNTIL IT'S GONE! DON'T YOU DARE STOP SUCKING ON IT!" Frank ordered, holding his belt in his hand as I lay there sucking on the bottle, crying at the same time making an unk-unk sound. My mom rubbed the baby oil on my genitals and groin area. She took my little penis, which was nothing more than a little head with virtually no shaft between her first, second finger and thumb and stretched it upward with her oily fingers. She did this a few times, stretching it to its max of about maybe an inch and a quarter, then letting it snap back almost like a rubber band to its scared, humiliated, little self again. She was very gentle as she oiled me up, though, doing most of it as though she was finger painting. It really tickled, not in an arousing way.
"Raise your legs now, John, so I can do your bottom," she said now in a more motherly voice. Understand now that I'm laying there crying my heart out, my nose running down my face and into my lips that are sucking on a baby bottle of milk. Lying there completely naked on a thick cotton flannel diaper on the couch with my legs raised and spread totally exposed, my mom rubbing baby oil on my bottom— with my stepsisters, their Aunt and dad watching the whole spectacle. With the bottle in my mouth I looked up at Aunt Suzy and said. "Aunt Suzy, please ask my mom not to put a diaper on me, please!"
"Now, John," my Aunt answered. "You know Frank and Melanie (that's my mom) are going on their trip (honeymoon) in a week and you and the girls are supposed to stay with me, but I can't and won't have this. I hope this teaches you a lesson because I'm not gonna clean your butt at your age. Your mom will have to find somewhere for you to stay and I'll just keep the girls. Now I'd like to have you stay with me, too," she went on, "but you are gonna have to stop this."
"Okay, be still John, don't move," my mom said as she finished rubbing baby oil all over my privates and bottom. With my butt raised and my legs spread, my mom paused for a minute to wipe her oily hands on a damp rag. I was thinking and hoping that at any moment all this madness was gonna stop, that it was only to scare me, and that she wouldn't really put a diaper on me. I mean, at 9 years old you never really believe that could or would happen. Still crying, sucking on the baby bottle, I look down at my shiny little penis and balls, the aroma of baby oil is so strong. Then I hear the damp rag hit the wadded up newspaper on the floor.
"Well, let's get some powder on you so we can get your diaper on!" My mom said. Then she took the large white plastic bottle of baby powder from back of the couch and sprinkled or poured a liberal amount on my bottom, which was still raised into the air. She was careful to make sure she got it on the underside of my balls and around the sides, too.
"Put your legs down now!" she ordered as she covered my penis and balls and the rest of my pubic area. Beth, my 12-year-old stepsister, said, "Well, at least now you'll smell like a clean baby instead of a dirty baby!"
"Yeah, until he has a dirty diaper," said Tina, my 10-year-old stepsister, with a laugh.
"Okay, John, spread your legs a little more!" My mom said as she began raising the thick diaper up and putting it up between my thighs. Then she kind of tucked and rolled the edges around my legs and then pulled the diaper up toward my tummy with a firm jerk.
"Look at you, John. You ought to be ashamed of yourself having to wear a diaper at your age," my mom said, looking directly into my eyes. Then she took a diaper pin that was stuck in the cushion of the couch, pulled the ends of my diaper together and pinned it saying, "Be still so I don't stick you!" Then she pulled the other side together and pinned it, too. Then she put one more pin on each side.
"There we go, just like a big baby!" she said as she took the half empty bottle from my hands and mouth.
"Now sit up!" she said as she got up off the couch, taking my hands and helping me into a sitting position. As I got my feet on the floor she pulled me to my feet saying, "Stand up here, John!" Then she kind of turned me around and stood behind me and over me pulling upward on my diaper in different places, checking it out to make sure it was the way she wanted it, saying," From now on, every time you mess your pants, you're gonna wear a diaper, do you understand me?"
"Yes," I said bawling uncontrollably. Then she handed the bottle back to me, took me by the wrist and led me back to where I messed my pants in front of the TV. As I was walking my legs were quivering, or shaking to the point that I thought I might fall, I guess just from the complete humiliation and embarrassment of being diapered and wearing a diaper in front of everyone. My diaper was also so thick I had to walk a little bowlegged. Not ridiculously thick, but proportionate to my size and maybe a little thicker. I looked like a big baby.
"Now sit down there," my mom said as we got to the spot where I messed my pants. "If you wanna sit in front of the TV and mess your pants, then you can sit there in a diaper," she exclaimed. As I sat down rather quickly, a cloud or puff of baby powder shot up out of my diaper and onto my lower chest.
"Now, you sit there and drink the rest of that bottle and think about what you've done."
I cannot convey to you how humiliating it is to be put in diapers at 9 years old. I know people fantasize about it, wish maybe it could have been them, but the reality is quite different. I think there was an unwritten law in the early 60's and before that it was okay to humiliate kids who had such accidents, though there were boundaries as well. I mean you know, an adult for instance who saw an older boy or girl in a diaper at the park for instance couldn't say, "you stupid little bastard or bitch!" or something like, for example. But I think was accepted and encouraged to humiliate them to some extent to change their behavior. This was before modern psychology and psychiatry was popular. ("Primal Scream", "I'm OK, You're OK"), a couple books, getting to the point, putting older kids in diapers was more common at that time than you can imagine. Okay, enough of that boring crap! Lol.
"I guess I'm gonna go home," said Aunt Suzy. She hugged Frank, my mom and the girls, then came over to me bent down put her arms around my neck hugged me saying," We're not gonna mess our pants anymore, are we?"
"No," I responded in a resigned tone. I was cried out and mentally exhausted from the whole experience. Aunt Suzy was a professional career woman, not good-looking, but dressed to the nines all the time. Her house was like immaculate, like looking at interiors in a furniture catalog, everything in place, no clutter. She had no kids of her own and didn't want any. She loved spoiling her nieces and buying them expensive gifts, but she made it clear that she wasn't going to clean anyone's butt or change their diapers.
After she left, my mom and Frank went into the bedroom and closed the door, leaving me there sitting in the middle of the living room floor in my diaper and holding an empty bottle. Beth came and plopped herself down in front of me saying, "What's Naomi gonna say when she finds out your mom had to put a diaper on you?"
"Beth, please don't tell her!" I started, but then she interrupted.
"Oh, I'm gonna tell her. And I'm gonna tell her I watched the whole thing too! And I'm gonna tell her you have a little pee-pee like a baby, too!" she said, laughing.
"No I don't!" I said in my defense.
"Yes, you do, Tommy has a bigger pee-pee than you do, and he's only two!"
"No, he doesn't!"
"Tina, doesn't Tommy have a bigger pee-pee than John?"
"Yeah, it's a lot fatter and a little longer, too!" Tina replied. (Tommy was Juanita's 2-year-old baby.)
"I've watched him have his diaper changed a lot!" Tina added.
"Well then, John DOES have a pee-pee like a baby, doesn't he, Tina?"
"Well, John's might be a little bigger than some of the babies I've seen over there, but it's about the same as some of the others," Tina seemed to say reluctantly, not wanting to be dragged into the argument.
"See John, I told you that you have a little baby pee-pee!" Beth said, laughing harder. Just then my mom and Frank returned to the room.
"What's so funny?" my mom asked.
Tina said with a giggle, "Beth told John that Tommy had a bigger pee-pee than he did!"
"Beth, Tina come here for a minute!" my mom said. She led them into the hallway where I heard her say, "Little ladies don't talk about things like that in front of little boys!" Not that the girls or myself understood any significance to penis size at our age, but I think that since that only boys had a penis (a fact that all girls are aware of), maybe it's assumed at that age that the bigger your penis, the more of a boy you are. I think that's why I defended myself so strongly. But did you ever notice that whenever a boy is having his diaper changed females will gather like vultures around a carcass to watch. Females, even preteen females, are fascinated at seeing boys' penises. And they do take note, mentally record and talk about the different size and shapes of boys penises.
My mom came back into the living room saying, "Were gonna go to the drive-in movie tonight so get up and lets go get you dressed," she said.
"Can I have my underwear and some pants?" I asked.
"I'm gonna get you a shirt and some shoes and socks," she answered. "But Frank and I agreed that you need to wear a diaper until your next potty," she replied. "If you have a clean diaper when you come to me and tell me you have to go potty, then you'll get your underwear back!" "
"That might not be until tomorrow!" I responded.
"Well, all I gotta say is if you need to go potty, you better tell me, or you'll be wearing diapers a lot longer!" she answered.
I got up off the floor and followed my mom to my room, Beth following us and mocking me the whole time. It felt so strange and embarrassing to walk around in a thick soft diaper. If you take a folded bath towel and press it flat against your tummy, that's about how thick it was on my tummy. It got much thicker in the groin area and between the legs, then thinner around my butt and up the back.
My mom handed me a shirt to put on, I don't remember if it was a t-shirt or just a pull over shirt like with two or three buttons at the top, but I do remember it had to be pulled over my head. Then she got a pair of pants and had me step into them as she held them, but they wouldn't fit over the diaper as she tried to pull them up. She tried to tuck the thick diaper in and get the pants over them but it wouldn't go.
"These are the biggest pants you have, John!" she said, still trying to make them work. Frank walked in and saw my mom trying to get the pants on me.
"He doesn't need any pants, Melanie!" Frank insisted. "He can go without those," Frank added.
"Frank, He's wearing a diaper; isn't that enough?" my mom asked.
"Melanie, I don't think it's gonna do much good if you're gonna let him hide it from everyone," Frank replied. "Besides, we're going to the drive-in Melanie; it'll be dark and it'll do him some good to go out like that!" Frank added.
"Okay," my mom agreed a little reluctantly, handing me my socks. She saw I was having trouble bending over putting them on with the thick diaper on.
"Get up here, honey!" she said, patting the mattress with her hand, "I'll help you get those on," she said. So I got up on the bed and lay down on my back, putting my feet on her lap one at a time so she could put my socks and shoes on. When she was through and I stood up. I felt ridiculous and I know I looked it, too, dressed in a pullover shirt that only came down over my diaper pins, a diaper and shoes and socks.
"Mom, I can't go like this!" I cried.
"well, I guess you're gonna have to," my mom replied. "Your pants won't fit over your diaper.". "Besides, it will be dark; no one will see you," she added.
As we all got ready to go out the door and get into the car I noticed that it was still very much daylight out.
"Mom, it's not dark yet!" I protested. "Everyone is gonna see me in a diaper!" I cried.
"Look, John, just get into the car and hurry and maybe no-one will see you; besides, you brought all this on yourself. If you'd stopped messing your pants like I told you to you wouldn't have to wear a diaper."
So I stepped out of the house very carefully looking around to make sure nobody was watching, trying to pull my shirt down over my diaper as I walked close to my mom trying to use her as cover. I bumped into her as I was looking around, scared to death someone would see me and make some embarrassing comment. My mom looked down at me as I bumped into her saying, "John, you are gonna ruin that shirt stretching it like that— stop that right now!"
I stopped pulling at my shirt but tried bending forward a little as I held it down as much as I could in front of me. Beth got in the middle seat of the station wagon and asked Tina to sit with her, saying, "John can sit in the back seat. I don't want him sitting with us."
Frank opened the back door and I got in as quickly as I could, Tina came to the back saying, "John, can I sit with you?"
"I don't care," I said. She got in with me and Frank closed the door.
"I'm sorry I laughed at you, John," Tina said. "And I feel sad that you have to wear a diaper."
Now sitting in the middle seat all alone Beth blurted out, "That's it, Tina; I'm not speaking to you ever again."
Frank and mom got in the car and we were on our way to the drive-in movie.