Irony It was finally summer vacation. I was excited to get going on having fun with my friends and just having fun in general. However, there were several catches. One, my mom was working every weekday, and she was very paranoid about having people over when she wasn't there. I didn't have my license, either, so I couldn't drive to friend's houses. And lastly, my brother, Joey, had just had an accident and needed stitches. He was still in diapers, and with mom gone and me not being good at the changings, my mom wanted him to go to daycare. She wanted me there, too, so I could watch him. "Mom, there'll be people there to watch him," I complained one night. "I know, but they might have to be watching other kids, and I don't want Joey hurting himself," my mom replied. "If you do it for me, I'll do something for you too." The argument finished eventually, and I finally agreed to go to this daycare. My mom dropped us off around seven in the morning. I took Joey up to the daycare center with his pack of diapers. I always enjoyed the feel of diapers and the sound of diapers, but not quite enough to actually consider wearing them. I came in and the first thing I noticed was the lack of babies. There were lots of younger kids by the looks of it, but nobody who wasn't potty-trained. However, there were two doors leading off from the main room which I suspected concealed more children of a more obnoxious sort. I went to the counter and a lady came to see me. "Oh, yes, you're the special case," she said, observing Joey's stitches. "now, since he's not potty-trained, he'll be in the baby room instead of the toddler room. Now, if you go in there, we'll get you both diapered." "Sure, that's...wait, what?" I asked. "Well, we designed the baby room for just babies, so nobody could hear them or smell them. We added a toddler room so that they wouldn't beat up the babies or anything as well as wouldn't be heard. So, because the baby room has nobody who is potty trained, and the toddler room has those who are being potty trained, there isn't a toilet in the baby room, which is where we have to keep Joey, by our own rules. The walls are soundproof and the door locked from the outside so no babies escape, so there is no way to alert us if you have to go. You have to wear a diaper." "Well, I won't!" "Then you won't go in the room with your brother." "Fine. I'll talk to my mother tonight about this!" And I did. However, it didn't go over too well with her. "I want you in that room, and they said they would let you in!" "Well, they didn't." "Oh, I'll talk to them..." Now, why didn't I mention them wanting me diapered? I was embarrassed. It was a mistake not to mention it, as it turns out. "Now, I want him in there," my mom was saying. "Whatever it takes. More money, anything." "Now, money won't be necessary," the lady said. "I'm sure we'll work something out." She glanced at me as my mom was leaving. "She meant besides a diaper," I had to say. "We know that, sweetie," she said. "We'll let you in anyways." "Really?" I asked. "Sure," she replied, secretly pressing a button on her desk. "This way." She led me to one of the doors and opened it. I walked in and suddenly a pacifier was forced into my mouth. Something attached to it was wrapped around my head so I couldn't make a sound. Then four ladies took all my clothes off except my boxers and pinned me to a table, where they strapped me down with various belts. I couldn�t move a muscle, and my legs were up in the air, in a position I saw as only too familiar. "You see, we also take care of mentally handicapped children," said the lead lady from the counter as she slid my boxers up my legs. "You know, when they're bodies are fifteen and their brains are two, stuff like that. There's nothing wrong with that, but if they put up a fuss, you can't simply hold them down and put a diaper on them like with little kids. You need a table like this." She then slid some gloves or something onto my hands that I couldn't see. She continued to put baby oil and powder on my butt and penis. "Now, when you're mom said anything, she meant it. Now you have to wear a diaper, but you were also a bad boy to rat to your parents, and so something a little extra is necessary." She then went to a closet and pulled out the biggest diaper I had ever seen. It was light blue and had Buzz Lightyear on it. She slid it under my butt and I would have groaned if I could. It was at least two inches thick, from how far I came off the ground. She then pulled it between my legs and I would have groaned again over how wide the crotch was. She then finished the operation with taping the diaper up and locking me in. The moment they unstrapped me I got up and went to take the diaper off. To my surprise, my fingers could move, but they weren't grabbing anything. I looked down at my hands and saw that they were in some kind of mitten with a lock on it, obviously to prevent me from using my fingers to escape. While I was preoccupied with my hands, they snuck up on me again and grabbed me. One of them put a footed sleeper on me, zipped it up, and locked it along with my hands and, presumably, my pacifier. They put me on the ground and I tried to stand up, but the sleeper constricted me and I wasn't able to. "There," the head honcho said. "Now you can watch your brother as long as you want." It was, sad to admit, not bad. Admittedly, I would have much rather been in "big boy pants" now than a diaper so thick it was hard to crawl in, but it was also something that could have been much worse. Of course, it got much worse once nature decided to call. Here I was, having to pee, with no way of getting to a toilet and no way of crossing my legs to hold the urge in. Now, in this case, the best idea probably would be to hold it in for a while, but then let it out on your own so that you didn't lose bladder control. This idea, unfortunately, never occurred to me. I held and held, until it finally all rushed out. Again, I was sorry to admit it was a glorious feeling. All this warmth was spreading around the diaper and it now felt pleasantly squishy. I felt my penis get bigger an realized that this was turning me on. No control, restrained from doing anything about it, was making me feel good. Now, lunchtime and naptime came. I took what was offered to me (a bottle of milk that was secretly spiked with sedatives, laxatives and diuretics) and submitted myself to a diaper change. I was then placed in a huge crib and strapped down by my arms. I began feeling drowsy and succumbed to the urge to sleep. I woke up in my crib and sat up, unstrapped. I felt my diaper was wet, but also full of poop, a very soft kind. A lady was coming towards me...leading my MOM. I was so scared, I wet myself again. "Well," she said, not too surprised. "They say you asked them to do this for you, huh?" I was so surprised that I didn't react. This was enough proof for my mom. The lady led her away and told her, in secret, a great place to buy all the stuff needed to keep me a baby for a while. Mom left and went to the store, leaving me in a crib being changed by the lady. Life proceeded as follows: I woke up in a crib every morning with a wet and poopy diaper that was changed by my mother. She put me in a onesie and took me to the daycare, where I went through the same thing as described above. She took me home and let me stay up a while and do normal teenager things, which is the only teenager stuff I was allowed to do. I then went into my crib and slept until the next day. The only big differences were that Joey got his stitches off and he began potty-training. Finally, the day before school started and I was to reveal to all of high school my (true) love for being a baby (for I truly enjoyed it), Joey comes up and yells to mom "I made a poopy in the potty every time today!" Mom was ecstatic and declared him out of diapers. I moved a little in my seat and felt some pee swish and poop squish. "How ironic," I replied. "I need a diaper change."