Jamie
Although she didn’t know exactly what I did up in my tree house all day,
Joan (my mum) knew that it wasn’t anything bad. As far as she thought, I just
liked the peace and quiet. Today, like most since I broke up from school, I was
up in my tree house. As usual, I had got out of bed at 8:35, eaten breakfast,
and gone straight to the tree house. She already knew that as soon as she
called me down for lunch, I would appear, eat, and then go back to my hiding
place. She really didn’t know what could keep me occupied all day, but at least
she knew I wasn’t out doing drugs, or getting drunk, or anything silly like
that. It just didn’t seem normal behaviour for a 10 year old, just to sit in a
tree house all day.
I, on the other hand, thought that it was a perfect way of wishing away
the holidays.
A bit of background. Joan and Bill (mum and dad) had always had
difficulty having a child. In the end, they resorted to using fertilisation
treatment, and had ended up not with one child, nor two, but three. Yes, I am
one of triplets. My sisters, Jill and Claire, seemed normal, healthy 10
year-olds. But I was confusing to my parents.
I was not a normal child. That much was obvious. From the outside, it
only seemed that I was shy, but when you lived with me all the time, it was
obviously not shyness. I wouldn’t say more than I needed to to anyone. Not even
my mother. Even though both mum and dad had tried to get me to talk to them,
they had never succeeded. I just didn’t want to talk. I had flatly refused to
be taken to a psychiatrist. I was just an enclosed, depressed person. I was But
that was about to change.
“Jamie, lunch time.” mum called in the vague direction of the tree
house. Sure enough, a couple of seconds later, my feet appeared at the top of
the ladder. She watched them quickly descend. Then, only a few feet from the
bottom, my foot slipped. She watched me plummet the rest of the distance to the
floor, and land flat on my back.
“JAMIE” she screamed, already running towards my body. When she got
there, I was groaning.
“Are you alright?” she asked.
“My back hurts” I said, feeling very weak.
Joan scooped me up in her arms, and rushed back towards the house.
“Lunch is on the table. I’m taking Jamie to hospital.” She said to the
girls on her way out. “I’ll be back later.” She managed to grab the car keys
from the table in the hall, and went outside, placing me in the back seat. She
completely ignored the warm, wet patch on my clothes, slowly soaking into the
seat.
She drove as fast as she could to the nearest hospital.
Just as she scooped me out of the back of the car, I passed out.
The next thing I knew, I was lying in a hospital bed. Mum was sitting in
a seat across the other side of the room.
“Welcome back” she said the second my eyes opened. “How’re you feeling?”
I smiled. It’s never like mum to be anything but to the point.
“The doctor says that there’s nothing wrong with you, just that you had
a nasty fall, and shouldn’t do anything strenuous with your back for the next
couple of weeks.”
The doctor came in a couple of minutes later and explained to me that I
would be released soon, but that if I experienced any trouble with my back, or
had anything to ask, I should come back and speak to him.
About half an hour after that, I was released, and we were on our way
home.
“So, what happened?” I asked. It seemed that my memory had been effected
by the fall, as I couldn’t remember any of it.
“You were on the way down from that wretched tree house of yours, and
you slipped on the third rung.” Mom explained. She didn’t like the fact that I
was so enclosed, and secretive about my feelings.
You see, I had been having a bad time at school. I was getting regularly
bullied, although I didn’t dare tell anyone. I was quite bright, but I wasn’t
applying my knowledge. I had recently got into a spot of bother about the
amount of effort that I was putting into the work that I was handing in at
school. Just as I was reflecting on these problems that I was having, I felt a
sudden warmth spreading out from my crotch. I looked down. I could see the pool
of urine collecting between my legs.
“Uh, mum,” I said, trying very hard not to cry “I’ve got a slight
problem.”
I couldn’t help it. A tear rolled down my cheek. Mom looked over at me.
She glanced down, but didn’t have enough time to take in the pool, as we had
just arrived at our drive. She drove the car into the garage, and then got out.
By this time, tears were steadily rolling down my cheeks. She came round to my
door, and opened it. She glanced down at the lake in between my legs, and then
looked me in the eye. She could see that I was crying, so she hugged me,
saying:
“Don’t worry about it. You’ll still be in shock. It’s just a small
accident.”
She broke off the hug, and helped me out of the car. As soon as I was
out, she scooped me off my feet and carried me into my room. She stood me in
the middle of my room, and helped me to get out of my damp clothes. She left me
standing there in the middle of my room, and went to get a warm washcloth from
the bathroom. She gently washed all the places that were wet, and passed me
some clean underwear. I put on the underwear that she had handed me, but didn’t
put on anything over it. Mum took the wet stuff down to the washing machine. I
lay down on my bed, and cried myself to sleep.
I woke up to a wet bed. I could feel the wet sheets clinging to my legs.
I glanced outside. It was getting dark.
“Mum” I yelled, hoping to get her attention, but not the attention of
any of the rest of my family. I didn’t know how my sisters would react, but I
didn’t really want them to know that I had wet the bed.
Seconds later, mum came into my room to find me sitting up, shivering
slightly, in a very wet bed. She instantly reacted. She closed the door to stop
anyone from seeing me, and moved over to the bed. She helped me out, minimising
the amount of pee that I dripped onto the floor. She helped me take my now
yellow underpants down, and put them onto my soaked bed. She went out the door
for a couple of minutes, returning with a warm washcloth, and a large plastic
bag. She scooped up the wet sheets and my underwear, and placed them in the
bag. She then moved over to me, and cleaned me with the washcloth. I was glad
to have all of the pee washed off me. She then helped me get into some clean
underwear. All through this experience I was crying. If I was allowed to, I
would have been up in my tree house, doing nothing, but the doctor had said
that I wasn’t allowed to do any strenuous exercise. I grabbed some clothes, and
put them on. Mum took the bag-full of wet things and took them down to the
washing machine. I found my sisters watching TV. The fact that they had no idea
what had just happened helped to comfort me, and I almost managed to forget
about it. We were watching TV, when I felt that dreaded warmth spread down into
the sofa. It wasn’t long until Claire, who was sitting next to me, had noticed
it. I saw her look down and notice the wet patch around my crotch. I started to
sob. Claire stood up, and walked out to find mum. It wasn’t long before, yet
again, I was upstairs, this time in the bathroom, being washed down by mum.
This time, she was slightly annoyed that it had happened again.
“Jamie, darling, if this is going to keep happening then we are going to
have to think about some protection. I’m sure that you don’t want to keep
having to change out of wet clothes, and the urine doesn’t do the furniture
much good. I know you may not want to, but we may have to put you into some
diapers.”
I cringed at the word. ‘Diapers are for babies’ I thought to myself. I
could, however, see the advantages. It would mean that I wouldn’t keep wetting,
and it would stop me from having to worry about going to the toilet. I meekly
nodded my head, and agreed to wear them.
“OK” mum said “If you can make sure that you get to the bathroom, then
I’ll pop out and get you some. OK?”
I nodded, trying very hard not to cry. A single tear rolled down my
cheek.
“I can tell that you aren’t happy about the idea, but it’s the only way
that I think we can deal with this. At least give it a try, eh” she said, as
soothingly as she could.
She left me to get dressed myself this time, as she went out to buy some
diapers.
I was sulking in my room when she came back from the store. She came up,
and was pleased that I had not wet myself again.
“Now then,” she said “I know that if I make you do this, and you are
uncomfortable with it, then it could damage your health. So are you sure you want to do this?” she asked.
I thought for a couple of seconds, weighing up the idea. I nodded.
“OK then, lay down on the bed, and take you clothes off.” I obeyed. A
couple of seconds later, I was lying on my bed, stark naked. She took out a
package of diapers from her bag. She also took out a packet of wipes, and a tub
of powder. She skilfully powdered my smallish penis, and tightly taped a diaper
around me. Although I never admitted it to mum, it did feel kinda nice to have
a diaper on.
So, for the next couple of weeks, I wore diapers. I was always changed
by mum, although my sisters did express an interest in changing my diapers.
After about two weeks, I started to gain some control over my wetting. I was
getting to the point where I could tell for about 3 minutes before that I was
going to wet. Even with this new-found control, I didn’t use it. You see, I had
grown to like my diapers. The effect that they had on me is indescribable. They
made me feel safe, secure, loved. Unless you have ever felt that way, there is
no way that you can understand the feeling. The downside to the fact that I was
regaining control was that I had to start to deliberately wet my diapers. This
proved tricky, and, as a result, it wasn’t long until I was caught. I was
eating lunch with mum. It was only us, as dad was at work, and the girls were
around at one of their friend’s house.
I could feel my full bladder, and I started to try to pee. Well, it took
me a couple of minutes to get started, but then I managed to get a steady flow.
The only problem was that mum had watched me do the whole thing. I looked at
her, and she was just looking at me.
“Listen, Jamie, I guess you’re wet?” I nodded “Then how about I change
you, and we can talk.” I nodded again. We both finished our food, and then mum
led me upstairs to my room. She got out the old towel that had been used as a
changing mat, and laid it on the bed. I let her do the whole change. Whilst
doing it, she talked to me.
“I have had a suspicion that you liked diapers for quite a while now,
and what I saw a few minutes ago merely re-enforces what I already thought. You
see, potty training you was very hard. You just didn’t want to give up your
diapers. We tried everything: treats, spanking, everything. The only thing that
we could find that worked was to leave you locked in the bathroom. In the end,
you worked out that if you didn’t get trained, then you would never be allowed
to have much fun. After we had trained you, however, you were not the same
child. You withdrew from us, and became more personal, more secretive. You lost
some of your love for life. You got by, sure, but you weren’t nearly the same person
as you were when you were wearing diapers.
“At first, your father and I were not worried about you. We merely
thought that it was a way of you trying to get back into diapers. We were
determined to keep you out of diapers. Whenever you tried to tell us your point
of view, we just denied you. As time went by, you grew further and further away
from the family. It got to the point where we had no idea what you were
thinking. This led to problems at school. We know you are bright, but you just
didn’t show it in school. It eventually led to you staying up in that tree
house of yours every day of the holidays. You had got to the point where you
were wishing away your life, not interested in all of the things that you could
be doing.
“Then you had the accident. I blamed myself. I should have realised that
you were depressed before now, and I could have avoided the whole bloody thing,
had I just allowed you to talk to us. When we went to the hospital, after you
were unconscious, the doctor warned me that you may have some wetting problems.
He suggested that I get you some diapers, but I flatly refused him. I was not
going to have you back in diapers. Then you started to have your accidents. I
talked with your father on the phone, and he managed to convince me to allow
you to wear diapers. I brought you some, and put you in them. I don’t know if
you realised it, but you were a lot happier when in diapers than you were when
you weren’t. You smiled a lot more. You were a lot more like your old self. You
had regained some of what you had lost during potty training.
“Even though I was convinced that you would not want to stay in diapers,
I picked up on some obvious signs. You subconsciously smiled when I put you in
a clean diaper. You stopped running to me as soon as you had wet. Small signs,
but not so small I missed them. Then, at lunch time, the look on your face as
you deliberately wet your diaper said it all. You were now, in my mind,
definitely wanting to wear diapers.”
By this time, she had managed to take of the old wet diaper, and wash
off my diaper area. She continued:
“I had a talk with your father last night, after you three had gone to
bed. I told him my concerns about you wanting to wear diapers, and he convinced
me that if that’s what you want, we should support you. To be honest, I
couldn’t send you back into the state that you were in, but your father
suggested that, if you wanted to, we could put you back into diapers for
everything. Not just for peeing.”
This was brilliant. From the day I had started wearing diapers again, I
had wanted to try pooping in one. I had never had the courage, and I had no
excuse if I did. It wasn't as though I had been having pooping accidents too.
Mum saw my face light up
“OK, I guess that you want that then. But I’m warning you now, if you do
decide to wear diapers full time, then you will very quickly lose what little
control you have. There will be no turning back.”
She was deliberately holding back on putting me into a clean diaper. She hadn’t
even got one out.
“So, what do you say? Do you want to stay in diapers full time?”
I smiled, and nodded.
“OK then.” She said, “But I think that you should be wearing these.” She
pulled a cloth diaper out from the bag with my stuff in it.
“The disposables are expensive, and un-environmentally-friendly.”
She expertly folded the diaper, and placed it under me. I was in heaven.
The cloth diaper felt so much better than the disposables ever had. They
brought a whole new meaning to the word ‘diaper’.
She put me into another diaper, so that I was double-diapered, then
pulled a pair of semi-transparent plastic pants over them. I loved it. I looked
in the mirror, and smile at my appearance.
“Do you want me to tell your sisters about the decision that you have
made today, or do you want to tell them yourself?” she asked, noting my huge
smile.
The smile faded. How would my sisters feel about having a brother in
diapers? Mom realised what I was thinking.
“They’ll be fine about it. They both think that you look cute in you
diapers. But I warn you, I may not be able to stop them from wanting to change
you diapers. You’re ok with that, aren’t you?” I nodded, relieved that they
didn’t mind.
So, there I was: lying down on my bed, with a large diaper pinned around
my waist. Smiling, I drifted off to sleep.
In the year that followed, it became the routine that my sisters would
change my diapers, unless they weren’t there, in which case my mum would. I was
moved to a school equipped for my ‘special needs’. It was brilliant at that
school. There weren’t that many of us (about 10 or 12), and all of the teachers
teach you on a one-to-one basis. I made a huge amount of friends there (pretty
much every other student), and was sad when we were moving away.
It was decided that we were going to move closer to my grandparents. It
was decided that mum would home-school us, as she had trained to be a teacher.
Well, we moved a couple of weeks later, and the next door neighbours
came round to meet us. As we hadn’t unpacked everything yet, I only had the
small amount of Lego that I had brought in the car with me. The neighbours had
two sons and a daughter. Well, me and the two boys from next door were playing
upstairs, and I noticed the small signs that they were wearing diapers. I asked
them about it, and they explained that they had been bullied, and had started
wearing them at night. Then they moved to wearing them full time.
And there I was, thinking I was the only one. It’s a small world after
all.