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."

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(The following information requested is optional, though your participation is highly encouraged.)
Name:
Age: <8 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 >18
What diapers do you wear? Cloth Disposable Multiple Underpants I do not wear diapers
Are your diapers plain white? Always Usually Sometimes Rarely Never I do not wear diapers
Do you wear multiple diapers? Always Usually Sometimes Rarely Never I do not wear diapers
Are you pantsless at home while in diapers? Always Usually Sometimes Rarely Never I do not wear diapers
How do you use your diapers? Pee Poop
Who else in your family has read this story? Mother Father Older Brother Younger Brother Older Sister Younger Sister
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