MICHAEL'S DIAPER STORIES: PART 1
--------------------------------
My earliest memory of wanting to wear diapers was when I was nine years
old. I was visiting with my Aunt Martha and Uncle Ken. My cousin Luke was about
four years old then, and big for his age. He was still in diapers at that time
and had to wear specially ordered diapers that were bigger for a child his size.
My parents were sitting there in the living room talking about the fact
that Luke was so late to toilet train. I pretended to be watching the TV, but I
was actually listening in on their conversation.
"Luke is *still* in diapers, I see," my mom commented.
"We've tried *everything*," Aunt Martha said, sounding exasperated.
"Candy, toys, a day at the fun park, you name it. Nothing is good enough to make
him use the toilet."
"I thought it was bad that Michael was three before he was trained!" my
mom mentioned. This made my nine-year-old sister Katie laugh.
"They're talking about you, Michael!" she said. "I didn't think you'd
*ever* get out of diapers, Michael!"
"I sure wish Luke would...," Aunt Martha sighed.
My mom offered some words of encouragement.
"Like they say, no kid ever goes off to kindergarten in diapers, even
Michael!"
Katie let out a snicker.
"Luke will probably be an exception," Aunt Martha said.
A few minutes later Luke came walking up to his mother, clad in only his
usual attire of a diaper and a shirt. This was so that Luke could be checked
more easily, and perhaps cause him enough embarrassment to discourage him from
wearing diapers as many of the neighborhood kids his age and older always saw
Luke playing outside in his diapers.
"I need changed, mommy," he said, waddling with a big pile of poop in his
diaper. "I go stinky again!" he added with a proud chuckle.
"If you can tell me you need to be changed, you ought to be able to tell
me you need to use the toilet!" Martha scolded him. She pulled on the back of
his diaper and examined the mess inside.
"Just stay there and I'll be back with *another* diaper!" I could hear the
frustration in Aunt Martha's voice.
Aunt Martha laid Luke down on the floor and removed his dirty diaper,
setting it aside. She then busily wiped his smelly butt off. The odor expanded
all around the room. Next she pulled a fresh diaper out of the package and
unfolded it. As I watched Aunt Martha I listened to the diaper crinkling as she
handled it. I could detect a light scent of the fragrance in the diapers as she
spread it out. I looked at how big the diaper was and got to thinking about what
it would be like if I were to wear it. Curious, I asked Aunt Martha where she
got such big diapers.
"I have to order them," Aunt Martha said. "The supermarket doesn't sell
them in Luke's size."
My uncle Ken jumped in and joked, "you know, Michael, those diapers just
might fit you!" I just giggled sheepishly, feeling slightly embarrassed by his
comment, but seriously thinking about wearing it. All I could think about was
hearing Ken say, "they just might fit you...they just might fit you..."
For the rest of that day I thought about what Uncle Ken said to me,
echoing repeatedly in my mind. Maybe the diapers would fit me. I thought about
it off and on throughout the next week. When I learned that we would be visiting
Aunt Martha and Uncle Allen about a month later, I became excited and looked
forward to the visit as I wanted to use that time to try on one of Luke's
diapers. Even mom wondered why I was suddenly looking forward to visiting them
so much.
"You act like we're going to the amusement park," mom remarked.
We went over to their place that day and, just as I expected, Luke was
still in his diapers. He apparently liked going around wearing just his diapers
as he expressed no shame when others were present. It was a hot day, too, though
he could have been wearing shorts. Everyone, in fact, was dressed down for the
sweltering weather. Everybody gathered outside on the patio, which gave me a
free run of the house and a chance to grab some of Luke's diapers! I sneaked
into Luke's bedroom and looked in the most obvious places for his diapers until
I found them in the closet. I closed his bedroom door and took my shorts off. I
then slipped my underwear off and walked over to the closet and grabbed one of
those diapers. My heart was racing as I was so excited to anticipate looking at
that thick, white diaper wrapped around my loins and wedged up into my crotch
and padding my butt. At the same time I was also afraid that someone may walk in
on me, which added to the rush I was feeling. As it was quiet in the empty
house, I could easily listen for someone to be coming inside.
I got ready to put the diaper on me. The silence of the still house was
broken by the sound of the crinkling diaper as I handled it. The sweet smells of
its fragrance wafted up to my nose. I couldn't wait to get it on, so I quickly
put it around me and fastened the tapes. Uncle Ken was right! They did fit me! I
slipped my underpants on over the diaper to conceal it from showing above my
shorts. I wanted to use the diaper, too, but I wasn't so sure that the diaper
would hold up without leaking. At least I had the diaper on and was able to
enjoy the feel of it and the thought of wearing it with nobody knowing that I
had it on. I slipped my shorts on and returned to the patio as I expected
someone to come into the house before too long.
"I was wondering where you went!" my mom said as I returned to my chair.
"Sit down and have some of your Aunt Martha's cookies."
As I sat down I heard the diaper crinkle as it compressed from my weight.
I thought for sure my mom would hear it. Luke was off playing in the yard with
the neighbor girl, so I couldn't "blame" him for the sound.
There was a large pitcher of lemonade on the table with some empty
glasses. I poured myself a couple glassfuls and drank them, not only to quench
my thirst, but to assure that I would have an ample pee to deposit into the
diaper. Later Aunt Martha brought some iced tea out. I filled my glass with that
and drank it down, followed by a glass of ice water. I knew my bladder couldn't
take much more of this. Before we left, I had another chance to sneak into
Luke's room and smuggle a couple more diapers out. I kept them tucked under my
left arm and beneath my shirt as I sat nervously in the car, hoping that nobody
would see that I had them. The hardest part of the ride home was sitting in the
back seat with Katie without lifting my arm, especially since she decided to
start a tickling fight with me on the way home. I made sure to sit on the left
side of the back seat to keep my diapers hidden from view.
By the time we got back home my bladder was about to burst. Rather than
make a run for the toilet (Katie beat me there, anyway), I ran into my bedroom
and closed the door intending to use the diaper I was wearing. I took off my
pants so they wouldn't get wet on in case the diaper leaked. I also wanted to
see the diaper on me and watch it expand as I filled it up with pee. I stood
there in just the diaper and let the pee out! Just as I expected the whole
diaper got soaked, but it held it all in with no leaks. It felt good just to
relieve the pressure inside of me. I wanted to put another diaper on in its
place, but since I only had two of the diapers, I wanted to wait until the time
was right to wear one again. I didn't want to use another one so soon on such a
limited supply. I managed to get rid of the diaper that I had wet into and was
never caught with it, fortunately.
Over the next week I used the other two diapers. I wore the first one to
bed in my underpants for three nights before I decided to use it. I couldn't let
it go unused another night, so I drank several glasses of ice water before going
to bed that night. At about 2:00 AM I woke up with a strong urge to get to a
bathroom, except that I did not get up from my bed to use it. Instead, I lay on
my back and pretended to be a baby in a crib and peed into the diaper. It was
nice to be able to stay put and still relieve myself. Fortunately I was able to
get rid of the diaper the next morning after my parents had left for work.
I looked forward to wearing my other diaper to bed that same night. I
wanted to wear it that day, too, but I was stuck at home with Katie all day and
I didn't want her to see that I was wearing it. In spite of the thinking about
it all day and fighting the temptation to use it earlier, I managed to wait
until that night when I went to bed and put the diaper on. I didn't fill up on
water this time as I intended to save the diaper to use it later on. I did want
to enjoy wearing it for a few nights first.
In the middle of the night I woke up to a full bladder and thought for a
moment how nice it would be to wet the diaper and remain asleep. Since I wasn't
"lucky" enough to be a bedwetter, I had to do my wetting while I was awake. I
got too caught up in the excitement of wanting to pee into the diaper and ended
up using it. I realized that I was out of diapers at this point, at least until
our next visit to Uncle Ken's and Aunt Martha's, which was the following
weekend, luckily. I don't know if I could have withstood waiting the usual two
months or so that separated such visits. I wanted more diapers!
It was still summertime when we made our next visit, and since it was a
hot day, everyone gathered outside on the patio, leaving the house empty. Again
I had the perfect opportunity to go into Luke's room and get a hold of his
stash! This time I knew exactly where they were, so I made a beeline for the
closet and reached right into the package on the shelf and grabbed one of those
wonderful diapers and put it on.
I wasn't so lucky this time. My mom came into the house and wondered where
I had gone. She must have heard me in Luke's room as she opened the door and saw
me standing there. All I had on was my shirt and my underwear-- with a diaper
underneath it.
"What are you *doing* in here, Michael? Are you wearing one of Luke's
diapers?"
I was so embarrassed. "Yes, mom."
"Take it off now! You look ridiculous! You're nine years old!
I pulled my underwear back down and removed the diaper. I folded it up and
started to put it back.
"You didn't use that diaper already, did you, Michael?"
"No, I just put it on!"
"I just wanted to make sure, since I don't think your Aunt Martha would
want it if you did use it! Why are you wearing one, anyway?"
"Because Uncle Ken said they might fit me!" I said.
"He was just kidding, Michael! You didn't think he was serious, did you?"
I paused for a moment and said "I don't know."
"Well, I do know nine-year-old boys don't wear diapers! Now get back
outside!"
Later that evening, after we got home, I was very disappointed, and still
mentally smarting from the embarrassment that I felt over getting caught. My mom
scolded me for it, and she told the rest of the family about the incident. Katie
kept teasing me about it all evening long.
"You just *had* to try them on, huh?" she said. "Michael wants to wear
diapers! Diapers! Diapers! Diapers! DIAPERS!" She kept saying the word over and
over like that throughout the evening. Every time she walked by and looked at me
she'd shout "diaper!" just to tease me.
I knew what the potential consequences were if I were caught trying to
wear them again, but I couldn't help myself. I wanted to go to Aunt Martha's and
Uncle Ken's house again and get some diapers. This time I had to wait a couple
months before we went back over there. It was a cool, blustery October day, so
everybody was inside the house now gathered around the crackling fire in the
fireplace. Obviously I had no chance of getting into Luke's bedroom this time.
There was little chance of me going in there unnoticed.
My big break came, though, when Luke came out of his room and asked me if
I could go in there and play with his toy trucks with him. Mom told me to go in
there and play with him, especially since I had been sitting in the living room
fidgeting and annoying mom and dad.
"Yes!" I thought, eagerly anticipating getting a hold of his diapers at
long last! I went into his room and closed the door. I then went straight for
the closet and expected to see some diapers waiting for me. To my surprise, they
were gone! It had only been a couple of months or so since I was here last. I
didn't think that Luke had "successfully" toilet trained since he was so
stubborn. I looked at him on the floor bent over as he was pushing around one of
his trucks. There was no bulge beneath his pants, and above his pants I saw the
waistband of his underwear showing, big boy underwear, that is. "He's toilet
trained; no more diapers," I lamented.
I asked Luke if he still wore diapers.
"Uh, huh, I wear dem to bed!" he said.
"Oh, really? Where does your mom keep them?" I asked.
"D'ere in da dwawer," he said.
I went over to his drawers and opened the top one first. I found his
diapers, but they weren't the disposable diapers that I was expecting. They were
cloth diapers, all neatly folded and stacked. I also noticed some pins on top of
the drawers along with a container of baby powder and lotion.
"I wear dose to bed!" Luke said.
I wanted to wear them, too, and I was ready to put one on. Luke was still
playing in the room, and I had to get him to leave somehow. I then thought of an
idea.
"Luke," I said. "Let's play a game!"
I got him all excited and explained the "game" that I was playing.
"I'll take something of yours and hide it. Then we'll see if you can guess
where it is...You'll have to turn around and close your eyes while I hide it,
okay?"
"Okay," he said as he turned around and closed his eyes, just as I had
instructed him..
"I'll tell you when you can look," I said.
I had to act quickly, and quietly, if possible. I kept my eyes on Luke as
I stripped my pants off and then my underwear. I then pulled one of the diapers
out of the drawer and let it unfold as I let go of one of the sides. I was
amazed by how big it was. It would definitely fit me. I wasn't sure how to fold
it, but I managed to make do and get it wrapped around me adequately. I put a
couple pins in each side of it. I then bent down and reached for my underwear
when Luke suddenly turned around and looked at me.
"I didn't say to look yet!" I said.
There I was, standing in his room with my pants off of me and on the floor
by my feet. All I had on was a sloppily folded diaper loosely wrapped and pinned
around me.
"Why awe you wearing a diapuh?" he asked.
"I wanted to try one," I said quickly, slipping my underwear on over it. I
started putting my pants back on when Luke's bedroom door suddenly flew open. It
was mom!
"Michael, can you leave this door op-- Michael!" she shouted.
I was really embarrassed now. There was no easy way to explain what I was
doing.
Mom had her arms folded as she started to scold me. "What have we said
about this? You got into Luke's diapers again, didn't you?"
I didn't bother to answer the question.
"You really want to try wearing a diaper, don't you?"
I was this far with it. I said "yes."
"Well, then, we'll let you find out then what wearing one is like!" From
the way my mom said that it didn't sound like she was letting me wear a diaper
because I had wanted to, but because she wanted me to stop wearing them.
"Luke, honey, can you leave for a moment?" mom asked him.
Luke ran back out into the living room while mom left me in Luke's room.
Mom grabbed the waistband of my underpants and yanked them down.
"I don't see what you put these back on for," mom said, tossing them
aside.
She then looked at the way I folded and pinned the diaper on.
"You'll need to learn how to fold them, for starters," mom said with a
hint of sarcasm. "Where are his diapers?"
"In the drawer," I said.
Mom proceeded to release the pins and let the diaper drop to the floor,
leaving me standing there naked. Mom grabbed several more diapers and layered
them together along with the first one that I had put on. She had a thick pile
of them on the floor ready to go around me.
"Why are you putting all those diapers together?" I asked mom.
"Shut up and get your butt on the floor!" mom demanded.
I sat down on the floor as mom had told me and got diapered by mom. She
applied the powder and the lotion quite generously. It felt good to feel her
hand rubbing my bottom and my crotch, but I didn't want to tell her that it felt
good. Mom then wrapped all those thick layers around me and pulled them up into
my crotch as far as they would go. The front of the diapers went over my stomach
and the back went up past my waist. She then inserted several pins in each side
to ensure a tight fit. I stood up and felt the thick layers between my legs, too
thick to put my knees together. I felt the padding wrapped all around me from my
loins back to my butt, over my crotch and up the front. Each time I inhaled I
felt the tight diapers constricting my stomach.
Mom then searched through the drawers and found some plastic pants. They
were quite large, even for me, though they were for Luke to wear. They were like
underpants, but a lot bigger and made of plastic, plus they had no fly front and
they went higher in the waist and in the back. Mom told me to put them on and
pull them up. She went around me and tugged on the waistband to pull them up
some more. She tucked the diapers inside to ensure the plastic pants would
contain them entirely.
I began to wonder how my pants would fit over the diapers. There was no
way I could fit anything over my diapers unless I had bigger pants to wear,
which I didn't. Before I had a chance to ask mom what she would do about this,
she picked up my pants and folded them. She picked up my underpants along with
them.
"Don't I get to wear them?"
Mom knelt down and patted my bottom.
"You know, Michael, that *is* going to be a problem," mom said
sarcastically. "Well, I've already diapered you, so I guess that's how you'll go
for awhile."
"I have to go in front of everyone like this?" I asked mom.
"Yes, Michael. That is all you will wear until I take those diapers off of
you! Now come out here!"
I looked down at the diaper bulging out from me and realized what I looked
like. I was still wearing my shirt and I still had my socks on, pulled up past
my ankles. The diapers stuck out so prominently. Not only was I without any
pants to hide them, mom also made me stick my shirt into my plastic pants so my
diapers would show in their entirety. I felt like I was a toddler again, kind of
like Luke.
Mom told me to stop looking down at myself and come out of Luke's room. I
couldn't even walk without waddling. I realized that this was turning into more
punishment than I was prepared for. I started crying.
"Mom, I'm sorry I wanted to wear diapers! Take them off!"
"No, Michael. You need to learn a lesson first!"
"But I don't wanna go out there!"
"You go out there or I will take that diaper off and send your dad in here
to spank you, and you don't want that, do you?"
Anything was better than a spanking from dad. His hand carried a swift,
stinging swat, and feeling it repeatedly a couple of dozen times in rapid
succession was the most pain I ever endured. Going before my Aunt Martha and
Uncle Ken, and my sister Katie-- in diapers-- was the better alternative.
I waddled out there and was told to sit next to Katie as mom told me.
Katie was laughing at me and asking mom what she did.
"Michael wanted to wear diapers, so I'm letting him!" mom explained.
"This is really encouraging for Luke," Uncle Ken said with sarcasm. "Luke
sees his older cousin wearing diapers, he may *never* get fully trained!" Aunt
Martha seemed to agree that if I wanted to wear them then I should get to. Dad
wasn't amused by it, but he agreed with mom that it was the best way to approach
the matter.
Katie started saying "Diapers! Diapers! Diapers!" over and over again.
"Ooh, and you look so cute in them, too!" she said. "They sure are awfully
thick!" she said as she patted me on the rear. " They make your butt stick out,
you know!"
I was already embarrassed enough by appearing before my family in diapers.
It got worse when the neighbor girl from next door came over to play with Luke.
I started to get up to go hide.
"Michael! Stay!" mom told me as she grabbed the back of my plastic pants.
The girl looked at me and wondered why I was wearing diapers. She didn't
ask, but she probably wanted to know why. I just tried to ignore her as she kept
glancing at me off and on. Her mother came over a few minutes later to get her.
She, too, saw that I was in diapers, but didn't comment on it.
We only stayed for about another hour when it was finally time to leave. I
thought that maybe I would have the diapers taken off first, but when mom asked
me if I had used them, I told her that I did, even though I hadn't. I thought
this would get me out of them.
"If I take that diaper off, and it's dry, then I'll know you lied! You
know how your dad handles lying! I'm giving you one more chance, did you use
them?"
It was either tell the truth or get spanked, hard.
"No, I haven't yet," I answered this time, the truth.
"Very well, let's go now," mom told me as she handed me my shoes.
Mom asked Aunt Martha if I could wear the diapers home. Aunt Martha said
that was fine and agreed that I needed to wear them a while longer. I ended up
riding home in just the diapers. Not only did Aunt Martha let mom take me home
in just the diapers, she even gave my mom a supply of diapers to last me for a
few days. Katie could hardly shut up about it.
"I'm gonna tell all my friends about you wearing DIAPERS!" she said. Every
few seconds she kept looking at me and saying "diapers!"
I was still in the diapers after we got home. It was a little while before
I needed to go to the bathroom, and not only would I be wetting these diapers,
but pooping in them as well. I was sitting down at the table eating dinner when
it happened. I let both pee and poop out at the same time and filled both ends
of the diapers. The smell started circulating around the dinner table, which
wasn't too appetizing.
Katie detected the odor and said "Mom, I think he's ready to be changed!
He stinks!"
"He can sit there and wait until after dinner," mom said.
Not only did I sit through dinner in a wet and messy diaper, but I also
had to wait another hour after that. During that time I peed in them again.
There was such a big mess of pee and poop pressed up against me. Katie kept
calling me "stinky butt" and jokingly offered to change me. Every move I made
reminded me of my overdue diaper change. It was starting to itch in there, and
the frustrating part was not being able to scratch it.
Just before it was time to take my bath mom took me into my room and
removed the diapers. There was lots of poop smeared from one side of my butt to
the other, mixed in with pee to exacerbate the odor even more. Mom cleaned the
big mess out of my butt and wiped my crotch and genitals dry. I couldn't avoid
getting an erection from the gentle sensation of having my privates wiped. Katie
stood and watched, giggling as she watched mom wipe my butt clean and making
exaggerated "ooh, gross!" expressions as mom put the dirty, poopy wipes into a
pile.
"You might have to do this someday, Katie," mom said to my sister.
Mom then had Katie escort me into the bathroom to take my bath. I was
completely naked as Katie dragged me by my hand and put me into the tub. Katie
was told to watch me to make sure I didn't try to use the toilet while I was in
there since I was going to be diapered again once I got out. Nothing was so
embarrassing to me as to have my sister watch me take a bath.
After I got out of the bath and dried off I was taken back into my room.
There on the bed were the diapers, waiting for my butt to descend upon them. Mom
pulled each side up and pinned them together, ensuring there was lots of padding
wedged into my crotch and all over my backside. She told me to stand up so that
she could slip the plastic pants over the multiple layers of material that kept
my legs so widely spread apart.
Katie continued to tease me about it for the rest of the night. She even
took pictures of me when I wasn't looking so that she could share them with her
friends at school later on. It took me awhile to adjust to sleeping in the
diapers as every move I made in the bed reminded me of the diapers' constant
presence. I felt like I was wearing very thick and bulky underwear.
While there were things I enjoyed about wearing the diapers-- the look and
the feel of them and the way they made me feel like a toddler again-- I was more
embarrassed to be wearing them in front of my sister as she constantly teased me
about having to wear them every night. It was even worse when Katie brought her
friends over for a slumber party and all I ever wore around them was diapers; I
was even changed in front of them by mom who wasn't holding anything back and
was determined to make this punishment as painful and as humiliating as
possible.
I began to regret what I had gotten myself into and vowed never to allow
this to happen again, even though there was a part of it that I secretly
enjoyed. For two weeks straight mom kept the diapers and washed them out while I
was in school. Fortunately I got to wear my regular underwear to school, but the
minute I got home, it was back into diapers and only diapers (and a shirt) until
the next morning. Over the two weekends I was in diapers for the entire time
from Friday afternoon to Monday morning two weeks later, when mom finally
rescinded the punishment and told me that I should have learned my lesson from
this. In the short term, this experience taught me that nine-year- old boys
aren't supposed to wear diapers.
In the long term, though, this experience, and others that I had yet to
encounter, formed my intense interest, fascination, and obsession with diapers.
MICHAEL'S DIAPER STORIES: PART 2
--------------------------------
It had been three years since I was forced to wear diapers for two weeks,
with the exception of school, fortunately. It took me awhile to overcome the
embarrassment and humiliation that I endured. Katie always reminded me about it
off an on and kept telling me that mom was going to put me back into diapers.
While I looked forward to it in some ways, it never happened. I wasn't about to
ask mom if she planned to make me wear diapers again. Eventually my feelings of
shame faded and Katie didn't tease me about it so much, so I went into a period
of having only a passive interest in diapers. I knew that what had happened was
in the past and would only remain a memory, though a vivid memory.
I was twelve years old and in the seventh grade when I became friends with
a kid from one of the other elementary schools in the area. His name was Billy.
He was quiet and reserved, which I supposed was why he was more appealing to me
as a friend. I didn't get along with a lot of the other boys at school. They
were into sports and super heroes and other "boy" things that didn't interest me
a lot.
Billy was in my Basic Drawing class, which was where I met him. The pre-
set seating arrangement of the class placed him across from me at the table. For
two weeks we never talked. He appeared to be rather shy, and I wasn't exactly an
outgoing individual myself.
One day I saw him diligently working his pencil so expertly, virtually
breathing life into his art with each stroke of his pencil. I admired-- and
envied somewhat-- his demonstration of his exceptional artistic talent.
"That's good," I said.
He stopped and looked up at me.
"You like it?" he asked me, sounding cynical of my sincerity.
"Yeah! I sure wish I could draw like that!"
"Ahh...it's nothing," he said, continuing his work.
This looked like it would be a difficult ice-breaking. He looked like a
decent kid, one with whom I could be friends. I had never gotten along well with
anyone else during my first six years in elementary school. Perhaps Billy would
become my first true friend.
Billy exhibited many creative talents and he especially liked to draw and
write. He also read a lot, which inspired him to excel at his creative writing
skills. Just as he was better at drawing than me, I wasn't as good of a writer,
but over time he helped to inspire me and to motivate me to improve my skills.
He had all A's and B's on his report card, an honor that I coveted.
Eventually, he and I became friends, though we only saw each other at
school. We ate lunch together every day and got a chance to see each other in
art class, which was good enough, considering I hardly had any friends until
now.
I felt that I had gotten to know Billy well enough that we could do things
together outside of school. We could have sleepovers, pizza parties, ride bikes
together, and share activities that I often had to do on my own, or, God help
me, with Katie and *her* friends.
I invited Billy to come over after school one day, but Billy told me that
his mom wouldn't let him go anywhere but straight home after school. I then
asked him if I could go home with him.
"You can't," he said. "I can't have anyone over."
"That's too bad," I said. "I think we ought to do things away from school,
you know, ride bikes, go to the arcade..."
"Maybe my mom will invite you over for dinner," I suggested.
"One of these nights, maybe," Billy said.
It was still a long time before Billy and I ever did anything together
beyond the prison-like chain-link fence that skirted the school grounds. I did,
however, get to know a few things about Billy, much of which I observed from
some of Billy's behavior.
First, I noticed that Billy had a habit of always checking his shirt to
make sure that it was always over the top of his pants. I asked him why he
always did this since it became annoying to see him constantly pulling down on
his shirt. He explained that he didn't like his underwear to show. He acted
quite defensive and told me not to ask him about it again.
He was very careful not to let his shirt ride up whenever he had to tie
his shoe or retrieve something he dropped. He would kneel down and keep his
shirt over his pants, rather than bend over and risk having it ride up and
expose his "underwear."
What I really thought was strange was that he never went into the
bathroom. Every time I went in there he stood outside and waited, as if he
weren't allowed to enter the boy's bathroom, or perhaps he was afraid of the
other boys that may be in there. He was clearly a boy, or at least I had hoped
he was a boy. He just never went into the bathroom with me, nor did he even go
in there by himself. I figured he was afraid to let his underwear show while he
was in there or was too embarrassed to be seen going to the bathroom by others.
My art class was right before lunch, so I expected him to follow me to the
cafeteria. Instead, he always disappeared for the first ten minutes of lunch
every day. I knew he didn't stand in line as this was where I went, and when he
joined me at the table he always had a sack lunch. I asked him where he always
went, but all he told me was that he had to take his medicine at that time every
day. I asked him what he took medicine for, but again he got defensive and told
me that it was "a problem I don't want to talk about."
It had been about two months since we became friends. I asked him if he
wanted to stay overnight on Halloween as it was on a Friday. He didn't want to
stay over and he explained that his mom didn't want him to stay at friends'
houses, though we did go trick-or-treating that evening. It was then that I
discovered he wore diapers, thus explaining his peculiar behavior.
This discovery re-awakened my diaper interests and brought them out of
latency. I envied him for wearing them and I wanted to know more about his
reason for wearing them. It wasn't easy to learn these things about him.
After we made our round through the neighborhood we stopped by his house,
which was the first time I had been over there. I sat out in the living room
while I waited for Billy to change out of his costume. While I was sitting there
I noticed that there were two tall, fluffy stacks of white underpants sitting on
the couch where Billy's mother had apparently been doing laundry. I took a
closer look at them and saw that they were not ordinary underpants. They were
thicker, much thicker than regular underwear. I looked out into the kitchen
where Billy's mom was going through his candy to inspect it. Being that she was
preoccupied with doing this, I decided to take a closer look at those
underpants. I picked one pair up off one of the stacks and looked it over. It
had extra layers in the front and the rear and it rose up higher than ordinary
underwear. I looked inside of it and saw that they had been both peed and pooped
in as there were stains in those areas of the garment. I tried to be careful not
to get caught looking at them, but Billy's mom caught me off guard when she
suddenly came back into the room. She asked me what I was doing. I was too
embarrassed to say anything and thought I would get in a lot of trouble by his
mom.
"Those are Billy's underpants," she said. "He has a problem and he needs
to wear them all the time. He'd be really embarrassed if he saw that you were
looking at them, so you might want to put them back."
My heart was beating very rapidly. I felt heat radiating off my face like
the sand on a hot day at the beach. I started trembling over my embarrassment. I
wanted to wear these underpants! I had but a few seconds to slip one under my
Halloween costume and sneak it home. There had to have been at least a dozen
pairs in each stack. Certainly they wouldn't miss one pair.
Just as I was stuffing the garment into my costume Billy came back into
the living room. He saw that I had been sitting in the chair across from the
couch where his underwear had been stacked. He quickly grabbed a stack of folded
shirts and set them on top of his underwear, obviously to hide them.
"Let's go to my room," he suggested. We went down the stairs into the
basement, where his bedroom was. He showed me some of his toys and other
belongings. I also saw that there was another bed, which I presumed was his
brother's. There was also a large hamper in the corner, from which emanated a
blend of aromas-- the artificial scent of pine air freshener, pee, and poop.
We only spent a few minutes down there as I needed to get back home soon.
Just before I left, Billy's two sisters came home from their trick-or-treating.
He had mentioned having two sisters and a brother, but it wasn't until tonight
that I had met them. One of his sisters was only seven years old; her name was
Amanda. The other sister, Becky, was fifteen.
I asked Billy about his brother Kevin, who was fourteen years old. Billy
told me that he was staying late at a friend's Halloween party and wouldn't be
home for awhile, so I probably wouldn't meet him until another time. I grabbed
my candy bag and walked out the door into the cold, late autumn night and walked
home just a few blocks away.
I felt guilty taking a pair of Billy's underpants from him, and I feared
that he or his mom may notice the missing pair. I had them in my possession now
and there was no turning back at this point. I was so excited thinking about
wearing them to bed that night. I got home and changed out of my costume. While
my mom inspected my candy bag I ran into my room and stashed the underpants
underneath my bed, where I would put them on after going to bed. Since it was
close to my bed time anyway, I just stripped to my underwear and put on a T-
shirt, which was all I ever wore to bed. I sat around for a half hour or so
thinking about the diapers while eating some of my candy.
Before I got into bed I reached under it and fetched the underpants I got
from Billy. I replaced my own briefs with Billy's padded-up underpants. They
felt so soft and warm, though they were not anything as thick as the diapers
that I remembered wearing a few years ago. As I lay down in my bed I felt the
padding press up against my butt. That familiar feel of thick padding on my rear
and over my stomach returned to me. It was almost like wearing those diapers
from Aunt Martha's and Uncle Ken's. I wanted to wet in them, too, but this was
the one and only pair I had. If I used it, I may not be able to get it washed,
and I wasn't certain when or if I'd ever get a hold of another pair. I certainly
couldn't just sneak Billy's underpants in with the rest of my own dirty
underpants as mom would see them there. For the first few nights I had to settle
for just wearing them, resisting the temptation to use them for their intended
purpose.
The next day at school I talked to Billy on recess. He seemed to be
feeling uneasy, and I had suspected that it was because he knew that I had seen
his underwear stacked on the couch. Perhaps he noticed that a pair was missing
from his stack.
"You know, don't you?" he asked me.
"Know what?"
"About my underwear. My mom told me you were looking at it."
"It was right there stacked on the couch, I was just curious."
"I wish you didn't see them," he said. "Now you know."
"Know what?"
"That I can't use the bathroom like everybody else. I have to wear special
underpants, like a diaper, like a baby! I can't believe my mom just let you look
at them!"
"Billy," I said. "I'm sorry that I looked at them. I know it's
embarrassing. I promise-- I *promise* I won't tell anyone."
"Okay, I hope you won't. That's why I keep pulling my shirt down. I'm
afraid that my underwear will show and I don't anyone to see it.
I thought that this was a good time to divulge my little secret to Billy.
Perhaps I would even confess to taking a pair from him.
"You wanna know something?" I asked him.
"What?"
"I wish I could wear your underpants."
"Huh?" he said. This took him aback.
"I don't know why, but I've had this thing with diapers, and, when I saw
your underwear stacked there, I had to take a look."
"Why would you want to wear some big, thick underpants that make you look
like you're a baby wearing a diaper?"
"I don't know. I just...like to wear them."
I opened up some more and told Billy about the incident that occurred four
years ago. He asked me why I wanted to put my little cousin's diapers on, and
all I could say was that I thought they would be fun to wear and that they felt
good to wear and liked how I looked wearing them.
"I don't know why I wanted to do it then, and I don't know why I want to
do it now," I said. "I just wish I could wear diapers, but they're only made for
babies, I suppose."
"So you're saying I'm a baby?" Billy snapped at me defensively.
"No, no, Billy. It's just that everyone thinks that diapers are for
babies, so when you grow up, you're not allowed to wear diapers."
"Like me? I'm grown up."
"Why don't they make diapers for us bigger kids that want to wear them?" I
lamented.
"Probably because you're the only kid who would want to wear them. I
*have* to wear them; there's a difference."
It was more clear to me that Billy's problems and having to wear diapers
gave him low self-esteem. I thought that it was a good time to confess taking
one of his pairs of underwear with me.
"I have a confession to make," I told him. "I took one of those underpants
with me. I wore them to bed last night."
"Really? Did you pee in them?" he asked me. "Poop in them?"
"No. They're the only ones I got and I didn't want to use them until I
could wash them."
"Go ahead and keep it; I have several more pairs," he said.
"Can I get another one from you?" I asked him spontaneously.
"If you want it. You really do want to wear them."
"I don't know why, but, yes."
"Come over to my house after school," he said.
It was hard to sit still in class that day. All I could think about was
going over to Billy's and getting some more of that underwear of his! I was so
entrenched into the thought that I was called on in class and did not respond. I
was quite embarrassed when the teacher yelled "Michael! Pay attention! I've
called your name three times!"
I felt guilty for being so engrossed in anticipation of what would happen
after school, but I shook it off and started thinking about wearing those
diaper-like underpants again. Finally, the bell rang. I excitedly ran to the bus
with Billy and rode with him to his house.
I followed Billy down to his bedroom and asked him if he had any pairs
that were thicker than others. He said he did have some that had extra layers in
them and started going through his drawers. "These really show when I wear them,
so I don't wear them to school," he explained as I saw him pull a drawer open.
When I looked inside the drawer I saw that there were diapers in it, too! These
were real diapers, just like the ones I remembered seeing for cousin Luke, only
these were even bigger yet, presumably big enough to fit Billy, big enough to
fit me. They were all folded and packed neatly into the drawer with some plastic
pants! I heard a box of safety pins shake around in the drawer as he quickly
shut it looked in the next one, from which he retrieved one of the thicker pairs
that I had requested. I looked at it and saw that it had extra thick panels sewn
into the front and rear. The panels themselves had a wider span on the garment,
covering more of the seat and the front. They had a higher rise on them and the
waistband was wider. Lastly, they had an outer plastic liner, which made them
resemble a diaper even more. I felt an erection beneath my pants as I thought
about wearing them. These were the ones I wanted to wear!
Billy asked me to go into the next room so that he could change out of the
underpants that he had wet into during the day. I respected his privacy and
waited at the bottom of the stairs just outside his door. While I was standing
there I saw the door at the top of the stairs open. It had to have been his
brother Kevin. He saw me standing there and asked me who I was.
"I'm Michael," I said.
I was also holding the underpants that I was wanting to put on.
"What are you doing with my brother's underwear?" he asked me.
"Uh, uh, he was just letting me look at it," I said nervously.
Kevin just walked by me and opened the door.
"Wait! I'm not dressed yet!" shouted Billy.
"It's just me, Billy!" his brother said.
"I thought it was Michael coming in."
"Well, let him in! He might as well see you in your underwear since you're
letting him look at it!"
"He wants to wear them!" Billy told Kevin.
"Does he pee his pants, too? Sheesh! I'm surrounded by babies!"
"Shut up, Kevin!" Billy snapped.
"Hey, I got into a fight today, so I'm not in a good mood!"
"Here," I said to Billy, handing the underpants back to him.
"It's all right," he said. "Just ignore my brother."
"Don't let me stop you! You wanna wear piss-pants, go ahead!" his brother
insulted me.
Kevin sneered at me and went back upstairs, thank goodness.
"Your brother sure is rude," I said to Billy as he was pulling his pants
back up.
"Only when he's mad," Billy said. "I'll tell him to apologize after he
cools off."
Billy told me to go ahead and put his underwear on. He even said he would
leave the room if I wanted him to. I told him it was okay since I was used to
going around in just my underwear anyway. I took my pants off and pulled the
thick underwear over my regular briefs.
"You won't be able to get your pants over those," Billy told me. I decided
to try putting my pants on anyway, only to find out that Billy was right.
"Told you so," he said. "Besides, you want Becky and Amanda to see you
wearing them?"
"I'll just pull my shirt over the top," I said. "I'll be leaving right
away, anyway."
I had to leave the fly of my pants completely down, and the top of the
underpants was still exposed above my pants, so I pulled my shirt down over them
and put my coat on so nobody would see that I was wearing them.
I decided that I should get going since my mom was probably wondering
where I was. I walked up the stairs and to the front door after passing through
the living room. Kevin was sitting in the chair clicking the remote control,
sulking and swearing. He didn't make much of a first impression on me.
Before I left I asked Billy if I could sleep over some time, hoping he
would change his mind now that I knew more about his problem.
"Well, uh, yeah, I suppose," he said, though he was hesitant. "Let me ask
my mom and I'll tell you tomorrow."
I walked home and felt the thick undergarment rubbing its padding against
me with each step. I knew I was walking with my fly completely open. I found
myself checking my shirt frequently to make sure it was still covering my fly.
Now I understood why Billy had developed such a habit.
I walk into my house and walked past my sister who was on the floor doing
her homework. Luckily she hadn't noticed that I was wearing one of Billy's
underpants. As the plastic rustled and crinkled when I walked, I had to gingerly
walk by her and take small, slow steps while not making it obvious that I was
not walking at a natural pace. I went back into my room and slipped the
underpants off, eagerly anticipating wearing them to bed that evening. I hid
them next to the first pair that I brought home the night before.
As bedtime came around I went into my room and pulled off the regular
briefs that everyone thought I was wearing to bed and started to put the thicker
briefs on. I saw both pairs sitting there underneath my bed. It occurred to me
that since I had two of his briefs that I could try wearing both of them, which
would make it even thicker! I put on the first pair and pulled it up to my
waist. It was fairly thick by itself, so I wasn't sure if the second pair would
fit. I went ahead and stepped into it and pulled it up over the first pair.
Though it was tight, I managed to get both pairs on! I ran my hands along the
seat and around my waist and over my crotch. It felt very thick indeed! It was
about as thick as the diapers that I had worn before. I was reliving the moment
I had then and enjoying it the best I could at my pre-pubescent twelve years of
age.
It was so hard to sleep that night. I was so thickly padded up that the
temptation to put the underpants to use was too great. I needed to pee, and
since I was already buried underneath all those absorbent layers I decided that
it was a good time to use them. I waited until I really had to go and then let
the stream pour out. I felt the entire front soak up. The wetness spread to the
crotch and dampened the entire front of the inner pair. I stuck my hand down in
between the two pairs and felt that the first one was quite wet, but the second
one was able to absorb the surface wetness of the first pair, especially since
it had its own plastic liner. I would have gotten the bed sheets wet if I hadn't
been wearing the pair with the liner. It took me awhile to adjust to the wet
feeling, but I eventually fell asleep in spite of having soaked diapers on.
I woke up the next morning and realized that I had used both pairs up and
that I had to either wash them or get some more from Billy. I asked my mom that
morning if I could stay overnight at Billy's house this weekend and she said it
was okay. I also told her that I wanted to go over to Billy's house after school
the next day. Again, mom said this was fine as long as it didn't interfere with
the time I needed for homework and that I would be home in time for dinner.
My plan was to come home first and gather up the wet diaper-pants and take
them over to Billy's house and hopefully get some clean pairs. Everything went
just as I had planned. I went home, got two plastic grocery bags and put them
together so that the diapers wouldn't show through the translucent plastic on
the bags. I carried them out the door with me and took them to Billy's, where I
deposited them into his hamper. He gave me another pair of his underpants. I had
asked for two, but he told me that his mom would notice that too many pairs were
being used up. To compensate, he did give me another pair with the extra padding
and the plastic liner. I gleefully wore them underneath my pants as I strode out
the door and towards home. His brother stopped me first and apologized for his
conduct yesterday and even shook my hand. Maybe he wasn't such a bad kid, I
decided, though I never got to trust him completely.
I got back home and made a beeline for my bedroom as Katie wasn't around.
I stashed the underpants under my bed just as I had done the night before. I was
more cooperative in getting into bed at my bedtime, which mom and dad noticed.
"You sure don't seem to mind going to bed on time lately," my mom said as
I trotted back to my room. "You must be having good dreams or something."
"Yeah, I am," I said. Perhaps these dreams were coming true.
MICHAEL'S DIAPER STORIES: PART 3
--------------------------------
I lay in bed and felt the diaper-underpants wrapped thickly around me,
wishing that they were the only underpants I was expected to wear. I fantasized
about being told to put them on every night and not to worry about getting the
bed wet or trying to make it to the toilet. I was also told to have my BM's in
bed since I was diapered anyway. I drank extra water before going to bed that
evening so that I would be sure to use the diaper underpants appropriately. It
was about 1:00 AM when the effects of the extra water struck. I should have
gotten up to go to the bathroom, but instead I lay there and played out my
fantasy as I continued to feel my bladder straining to hold back the flood.
Suddenly, without giving much thought to what I was really doing, I let the
floodgates open and peed into the diaper-underpants. The entire front of them
filled up with urine and were very wet by the time I was done peeing, making
them too wet to keep wearing. I lay there in them for awhile, for as long as I
could, but finally I had to get them off. It felt so fun to deliberately wet
while in bed.
I got up and pulled them off, wishing I had another pair to replace them
right away. I needed to hide them for now and hope they would get to smelling
too bad before getting them washed or back to Billy. My hamper was the most
obvious place, but I didn't want anyone else-- namely Katie-- to see it in
there. As mom worked, Katie was given laundry responsibilities for the whole
family, including my often-skid-marked underwear that Katie always liked to
tease me about. I threw them under the bed and decided to deal with them after
school the next day.
Billy came over with me after school. When we got to my house I introduced
him to my mom and Katie and then showed him my room and some of the things I
had. I then reached under the bed to retrieve the damp diaper-underpants.
I went to the kitchen to get a plastic bag for the underpants so Billy
could take them home. I wasn't sure how to sneak them past mom and Katie, so I
opened my window and dropped the bag outside behind the shrub so that Billy
could retrieve it when he left.
At about 6:00 I went over to Billy's house. His mom had dinner ready when
I got there. After enjoying a fine meal we watched a couple movies. During the
movie I needed to pee. I looked at Billy sitting there in the chair, knowing he
had diaper-underpants on and that he didn't ever need to get up and interrupt
his activities. Even though I would have preferred to have been diapered, I got
up and went to the bathroom to take care of my business.
It was about 9:00 when the movie got over. It was also time for everyone
to get ready for bed. Billy's mom had a strict rule about everyone being ready
for bed at that time. Amanda and Becky went to their room and came back out in
their pajamas. Kevin came back out in just his underwear and a shirt. Billy was
then taken downstairs into his room by his mom.
"Billy's getting his diaper changed!" Amanda said.
"Oh," I said, trying to act passive. I didn't want to reveal how aroused I
was by the thought of seeing Billy's mom wrap a diaper around his loins and
pinning it on him.
"You might as well go down there and get ready for bed," Kevin said. "Even
overnight guests have to be ready for bed when we do," he said. "Even if they
like to wear *diapers!*, too!"
I was beginning to resent Kevin. He reminded me of a kid I knew at school
who was often times irascible and also mean-spirited.
I went down into the basement and waited at the door. Billy's mom opened
the door and saw me standing there waiting.
"Go on in, we're done," she said.
Billy was sitting on his bed in some very thick diapers and plastic pants.
"So you don't wear pajamas, either?" I asked.
"This is all I've ever worn," he said. "You'd better get ready for bed,"
he advised me. "Everyone has to be in their pajamas, or whatever they wear to
bed. For me, it's..."
Without saying "diapers" he pointed to what he was wearing. I nodded to
acknowledge him.
"What do you wear to bed?" he asked.
"I just take my pants off and sleep in my underwear. If I can, I'd like to
wear yours instead," I asked.
"Sure, do you wanna put them on now?"
"In front of your family?"
"Either that, or go around in your underwear. Besides, they already know
you want to wear them," he explained.
"You *told* them?" I gasped, feeling embarrassed that my innermost secret
desires were being exposed. "I'm sorry, Michael," Billy apologized, "but I had
to. Mom thought I was going through too many of the diaper pants, and I had to
tell her you were wearing them, too."
"What did she say?" I asked.
"She just said 'if he wants to wear them, fine, though I don't know why.'"
"Really?"
"Yeah, she just wants to make sure I have enough of my own."
He then handed me one of his thicker pairs with an outer liner. I took my
pants off and then my regular underwear. I pulled the thick briefs up and let
the waistband snap on my stomach. My hard-on was pressed up against my waist by
the tight, padded garment. I enjoyed having them on, feeling the absorbent
padding rubbing against me. I ran my hands over my butt to get a feel for their
thickness and I also enjoyed the slick feel of the plastic lining. I also liked
wearing them for the way they would be difficult to pull down in case I decided
to use the toilet. They were pretty much on for good until I was ready to take
them off.
Kevin came into the room and saw me admiring myself with the underpants on
me.
"Billy tells me you like wearing his diapers," he said.
I stood there silently.
"Obviously you do," he pointed out to me. "At least you won't jazz up my
sheets with them on."
I didn't know what he meant by this until Billy later explained that it
meant jacking off. I hadn't yet been exposed to much of anything about sexual
development, but I had a fairly good idea what he meant by "jacking off."
"You'd better hope those don't leak if you decide to wet in them, pal,"
Kevin said in a threatening voice "You're sleeping in my bed tonight and it had
better stay dry!"
"Where are you sleeping?" I asked him.
"On the couch, so you two can pee your pants in your beds alone!
Goodnight!"
Kevin then closed the door and shut the light off on us.
"Smart-ass!" Billy grumbled.
"Do we have to go to bed *now*?" I asked, assuming this was the case as
the light had been turned off.
"No," Billy answered, turning the light back on. "We just have to be ready
for bed."
"Are we staying in here for the rest of the night?" I asked.
"Actually, I wanted to go play some games on the computer."
"You guys have a computer?"
"Yeah. My dad lets us play on it on weekends and after we all have our
homework finished."
I hadn't known anyone who owned a computer, so I didn't know much about
them, except for using them at school on occasion, and they were only some
rather antiquated Tandy computers. I knew that newer computers were a lot more
exciting and had things like CD-ROM, sound, and color. I was excited to see it,
but I wasn't sure about leaving the room in just the diaper-pants.
"Come on," Billy prompted me as he got up and left the room. I followed
behind him, going up the stairs. As he walked up, I heard his diapers crinkle
with each step. The creases of his plastic pants converged downward on his rear
towards his bulging crotch and shifted around as he walked. By being below him
on the stairs, he gave me a very good view of how padded up his butt was.
We got to the top of the stairs and walked though the house. Billy's
parents were both sitting in their chairs reading. Kevin was watching TV. They
all looked at me as I walked by, and I know they were looking at me because I
was wearing Billy's special underpants. I hastened my pace to minimize the
amount of time during which I was exposed to Billy's family in my current state
of dress.
I followed Billy into the computer room where the girls were playing a
game. Billy and I sat there and watched them. Becky turned around and looked at
me sitting there with just the thick underpants on. Apparently she could detect
that my face was glowing red; I could feel heat radiating from it.
"Don't be embarrassed," she assured me. "Look at what *Billy* has to wear
every night". She patted me on the knee and smiled before returning to the game.
"Wanna play guys?" she offered.
Billy and I exchanged seats with Amanda and Becky. They sat behind us and
watched as Billy showed me some of the games that he liked to play. The girls
offered hints on playing the games.
"This is fun!" I exclaimed. I was feeling nervous knowing that his sisters
could see what I was wearing. At the same time I was excited over it, knowing
that I had to have looked fairly well diapered in the special underpants.
It was about another half hour or so before Billy's dad came into the room
and gave us a "five-minute-warning" to finish up and go to bed.
"And he means five minutes," Billy warned me. "To the second."
Billy shut the computer off and led me back downstairs to his room. As I
slid into Kevin's bed, I felt the plastic liner on the diaper pants rubbing
against the sheets. It felt so good to have them on. I told Billy how much I
liked wearing them and envied him for getting to wear them all the time.
"It's different when you have to wear them," he said.
"What do you mean?"
"You haven't had to live with the problem all your life. When everyone
thinks when you're a certain age you can't wet your pants anymore. A lot of
people don't understand that some of us still wet our pants and have to wear
diapers. You'd see it differently if you had to wear them."
In a way I understood what Billy was getting at, but at the same time, I
realized that he was under a different set of circumstances and that he had
probably experienced this problem in ways that he didn't discuss with me.
After talking for about an hour we finally went to sleep. It was about
3:00 in the morning when I woke up with an urge to pee. I had the diaper pants
on, so there was no need for me to get up and go to the bathroom. It was
upstairs, and I would have had to find my way through the dark house to get to
it anyway. It made me even more glad to be diapered so that I wouldn't have to
navigate an unfamiliar house in the dark.
I went back into my fantasy mode and pretended that this time I was Billy.
I thought about seeing his mother standing over me while I lay on the bed to get
diapered. I let my pee freely flow out into the absorbent front panel of the
underpants, soaking it up more with each spurt of urine that poured forth from
my tap. It was a good, solid urination that filled every available square inch
of the absorbent material.
It would be several hours before I would be taking the diaper pants off. I
wasn't sure whether to keep wearing the soaked diaper pants for the rest of the
night, or to get up and try to find some more of Billy's diaper pants. The
diaper pants were too wet and they needed to be changed, so I got up and groped
around the room until I located the drawers.
I wasn't sure whether these drawers contained Billy's clothes or Kevin's.
I figured that once I found the diaper pants I was okay since only Billy wore
them. I remembered that Billy kept his night diapers and plastic pants in the
top drawer and his absorbent underpants in the second drawer.
As I pulled the drawer open the wood scraped noisily, possibly loud enough
to wake Billy. I reached into the drawer and felt the familiar plastic that was
wrapped around my bum and privates. I then ran my fingers along the surface of
one of the pairs until I felt an elastic band. I slid my fingers to the other
side of the elastic band and felt the absorbent materials. Bingo! This had to be
them.
I heard Billy breathing, almost snoring, so I knew he was still asleep. I
slid off the soaked underpants and replaced them with the pair that I had
retrieved from the drawer. I stepped into them and pulled them up until they
gave me that assuring tight and secure fit. I then climbed back into bed and
fell asleep.
Billy woke up before I did the next morning. He walked over to me and
nudged me awake.
"Get up! Let's go watch cartoons!"
It was about 8:00 in the morning as we went out to the living room and
watched cartoons with his sisters who were already awake by then. As Kevin was
still sleeping on the couch, we had to keep the sound down and sit close to the
TV to hear it. We still weren't quiet enough for Kevin as I heard him stirring
around.
"Will you guys shut up!" he groaned in a sleepy voice. He kicked Billy
lightly in the back. "Dammit, now I'm awake!"
It was about 10:00 when it occurred to me that Billy's parents weren't
around. Billy told me that they both had to work on most Saturdays. It was also
time for Billy to have his diapers taken off, but since his mom wasn't there,
Kevin had to do this for his little brother. I expected Billy to return with his
clothes on, but he continued to lounge around wearing his special underpants.
"I'm surprised you didn't want to come and watch," Kevin said to me as he
returned with a plastic pail. I wanted to see how wet Billy made his diapers,
but I knew Kevin would make a snide remark if he saw me looking into the pail.
We then went into the computer room to play more games. After we grew
tired of playing I asked Billy what else the computer could do as I was curious.
He showed me the spreadsheet and the word processor. He brought up some of the
school assignments that he had worked on and demonstrated how he could easily
make revisions to his work. I was quite intrigued by the word processor and was
only vaguely familiar with using one from when I typed on the ones at school.
He left me to try out the word processor while he left the room to get
some floppy disks that he kept in his room. While he was gone I opened up the
file list on the hard drive. There were a couple of file names that caught my
attention. One was called "diapers.doc". Naturally, I had to find out what this
file was, so I double-clicked it and opened it.
It appeared to be a story that Billy wrote about himself wearing diapers.
I sat there and read as he explained in detail his toilet training and also
vividly described his bedwetting incidents. I wondered why he would want to
write about something so embarrassing and so personal, especially when others,
like me, may see it.
I continued to read the story and was quite aroused by it, though I didn't
know if arousal was the intent of the story. Billy exhibited his writing talents
in his story from the way he described his diapers and the feelings they gave
him. He described his diapers as being very thick, soft, white, and baby-like,
and how Kevin and his two sisters teased him for looking like a big baby. Billy
described how he often lay in bed for hours at a time feeling them so wet and
itchy, wanting to be changed. At times he would have a bowel movement overnight
and would have to feel a large, sticky glob of shit that spread itself around
until it was all over his balls and pressing up against his butt as it squished
around in the tight confinement of the diapers.
"This is good!" I said to myself as I continued to read the story. I also
caught myself rubbing my genitals as I found the writing to be quite
stimulating. I was too young to ejaculate, but it still felt good to play with
myself while reading Billy's diaper story. As I still had Billy's underpants on,
this intensified the feeling even more.
Billy then came back into the room with his floppy disks. When he saw that
I accessed his story and was reading it he dropped his disks and shit his pants,
figuratively and probably literally, based on what I was reading, anyway.
"Shit! Don't read that!" he shouted as he ran towards the computer.
"What is it?" , I asked.
"Nothing! Nothing! He stuck his butt and the several layers of cloth
adorning it into my face as he barged in front of me and cleared the screen.
"That was a good story," I commented.
"I can't believe I let you see it! Oh, shit! Oh, God!"
The poor kid was in hysterics, burying his face in his hands.
"Billy! Relax! I won't tell anybody you wrote it!"
"I know, but it's...it's so...personal. I...don't know how to explain
it...shit!"
"I think I understand. I liked reading it," I told him.
Billy sat there silently before he got up and went back and retrieved the
dropped disks from the floor.
"Dammit, I didn't think it was still on the hard drive!" he said. "I'm
glad nobody else saw it!"
I saw that he had calmed down and decided to ask him about it.
"Just what was that, if you don't mind me asking?" I asked him.
"I'll tell you a big secret, Michael, *but*, you must *PROMISE* that you
will NOT tell ANYONE!"
"Cross my heart and hope to die...," I said.
"Okay," he started. "I...like to write these, uh, stories, about wearing
diapers. I've always worn them, so I've learned to like wearing them a lot, I
suppose, even if I have no choice but to wear them. I'm probably nuts to be this
way. I can't imagine anyone else writing such a thing as this. I always thought
this would be my own private little thing."
"What were you writing it for, then?"
"Because it's how I feel when I wear diapers," Billy explained. "I don't
think anyone else writes stories like mine."
"I would," I said. "I'd write one. I just wish I could write a story like
yours."
Billy continued to explain why he wrote such a story, though he was very
uncomfortable trying to divulge such a deeply intimate secret of his. Having the
same feelings he did, I understood very well why he was so fond of diapers and
why he wrote such a story.
"Can I have a copy of it?" I asked.
"I dunno, I really hate to think that someone else will see it."
"I *PROMISED* not to let anyone know, remember?"
"What if your mom sees it, or your sister?"
"They won't! I've got a box that I keep all my secret stuff in."
Billy finally budged and let me have a copy of his story. He turned the
printer on and re-opened the file that contained his story after transferring it
to one of his floppy disks.
"Got any other stories?" I asked him.
"You mean...diaper stories?"
"Yes, of course!"
"There is one that I'm working on. I'll let you see it when I finish it."
"What's it called?" I asked.
Billy blushed as he stammered out the title of the story.
"P-Peter the Poo-per. It's about my brother and his friend Peter wearing
diapers. He'd kill me if he saw that one!"
"Does Peter wear diapers?" I asked.
"No, I just made the story up, you know, fiction. I get so tired of
Kevin's shit, so I thought it would be funny if mom made him wear diapers since
he's always teasing me about wearing them."
Just as the printer finished churning out the last few pages, the two
girls walked in. Billy closed the file and exited the word processor program.
"Hi! What'cha printing?" Becky asked. Billy tore off what had already
printed and handed it to me.
"Nothing! It's homework!"
"You do your homework on a Saturday while you have friends over?" Becky
questioned. "I don't think so." I think I *do* know what it is!" Becky
continued. "You just don't want us to see it, huh?"
"No!" Billy demanded.
"It's probably a dirty story from the Internet!"
"We don't even have the Internet!" Billy stated.
"Your friends do, and they probably gave you the story, huh?"
"No! It's one of *my* stories!"
"So why can't we read it?" Becky asked. "Is it a dirty story, too?"
"It's really dumb," Billy said. He tore off the last page and handed it to
me. Billy gathered up his disks and led me out of the room as the girls took
over the computer.
"Tell me what it's about, Michael," Becky said to me as I left the room.
My mom called and told me she would come by and pick me up shortly. By
then I changed out of Billy's underpants and got dressed in my regular clothes.
I had to relinquish the extra-thick plastic-lined pair that I was wearing since
I wouldn't have been able to sneak them out by wearing them underneath my
clothes. The plastic made too much of a tell- tale noise.
Instead, I took two pairs of Billy's other underpants and wore them both
together. I slipped my regular briefs on over them so if anything showed over my
pants it would just be my Hanes undies, and nobody would think much of seeing
them, though the thick padding underneath would probably look suspicious. The
two pairs were too thick to allow my pants to zip up, so I left the fly undone
and pulled my shirt and my coat over the front of me. Mom came by shortly
afterwards to pick me up. All the way home I kept thinking that mom would see
the telltale bulge underneath my pants, but she didn't seem to notice, luckily.
As I got into my room I shut the door, took off my pants and lay down on
my bed in Billy's diaper-underpants. I pulled out Billy's story that he printed
for me. With much delight, I read it and explored all kinds of diaper fantasies
from it.
MICHAEL'S DIAPER STORIES: PART 4
--------------------------------
I got home, went into my room and slipped off my pants so that I could
enjoy the sight and the feel of wearing the diaper-like undergarments while I
lay down on my bed to read Billy's story.
I re-read the parts that I saw when I caught a glimpse of it on the
computer screen at Billy's house. I pretended that I was in Billy's place in the
story, having all those accidents in bed and wearing diapers for them. I
imagined myself playing out in the yard in my diapers along with my imaginary
brother (since I didn't have a brother in real life). It was hard to think of
Katie being in Kevin's place; she played Becky's role in the story instead.
It was a hot day and our mother decided that this was all Kevin and I
needed to wear. She also thought that by making us go out where the other kids
in the neighborhood could see us romping around in our diapers, this would shame
us out of wetting our beds and, therefore, having to wear diapers.
Billy's sister Becky was just as brutal to him as Katie often was to me,
so it was easy for me to envision Katie being in Becky's place in the story.
Katie would laugh at me every time I came out of my bedroom with a soaked diaper
drooping down from my loins waiting for mom to change it. She'd call me a baby
because I wore diapers, even though I was in first grade by then. She'd call me
"Stinky" every time she detected that I pooped in my diapers. Once she was old
enough to handle diaper changes, mom gave her some of the dirty diaper duties as
she changed me and my brother, quite a humbling experience for two boys.
Billy had written about everything that had happened throughout his life
up to the present, where he wrote about meeting me earlier this year and not
wanting me to know that he wore diapers. I learned quite a bit about Billy from
reading his story. I was glad that he trusted me enough to read it. As it was,
essentially, his life story about wearing diapers, I expected him to write more
about his personal experiences as time went on.
Later that evening while I was seated at the dinner table, I kept thinking
about Billy's story. As I was so entrenched in the thought as dozens of images
of Billy in his diapers flashed through my mind. His story was so vividly
written and I was almost able to see the story as he wrote it, replaying the
scenes in my mind. I was in a daze, my own little world, ignoring my dinner and
the rest of the family.
"What are you daydreaming about?" mom asked me.
"Oh, nothing," I said.
"Eat your dinner before it gets cold," mom said.
As I ate the rest of my dinner, I continued to think about the story,
wanting to read it again. In fact, I thought of trying to write such a story
myself, though I didn't have nearly the same experiences that Billy was able to
draw upon. Still, it put me in a writing mood and I was eager to get started
with the ideas that I had floating around in my mind. I felt so ambitious to
start writing that I got up from the table and left my dirty dishes behind.
"Michael! Don't leave your dishes on the table like that; you know
better!" mom chided.
I went straight into my room and closed the door. I took my pants off and
reached under the bed to retrieve the diaper pants. They were bunched together
as I had taken both of them off together, so I slipped them back on this way.
Before I sat down at my desk I danced around my room, thinking, "I'm in diapers!
I'm in diapers! I'm in diapers!". I didn't want anyone to suddenly barge in
unexpectedly, but the thought of being caught did excite me, however.
I went to my desk and pulled out some paper and a pen. I started to write
about my experience at Uncle Ken's and Aunt Martha's. I called the story "You're
Never Too Old for Diapers". It was only a short story, about four pages. I spent
the rest of the night on it making changes and rearranging ideas. I wished we
had a computer to help take the drudgery and tedium out of editing. It was 11:00
and I was still awake sitting at my desk. Several wads of crumpled up paper
littered my desktop. By then I was getting tired and I wanted to stop for the
night. Just as I was rewriting the last paragraph, mom came to my room and asked
me what I was doing up so late.
"It's uh, homework," I said through the closed door.
"That's a surprise; must be a really important assignment," mom said.
"It is," I said.
Mom then opened the door. Fearing that I would get caught wearing Billy's
thick underpants, I slid forward in my chair to hide what I was wearing. As far
as mom could tell, I was just sitting there in my underwear.
"Sit up, Michael, or you'll develop poor posture," mom warned me. "Give
mom a goodnight kiss."
Nervously, I leaned over and kissed mom goodnight, hoping she wouldn't see
that the underwear I had on was not the usual Hanes or Fruit of the Loom that I
normally wore. I worked on the story for about another ten or fifteen minutes
before I could no longer keep awake enough to write. Even after I was in bed,
expecting to drop off right away, I still lay awake and thought about my story
and Billy's.
Over the next few nights I did some more work on my story and revised it
until I felt it was satisfactory. After I had it completely written I decided to
show it to Billy. He read through it and thought it was quite interesting and
enjoyable.
Since Billy was a better student than I was, he helped me on grammar,
spelling, and punctuation, but otherwise left the story alone so that it would
read as I intended it to be read. I wanted to have a neat, typed copy of it, so
I went over to Billy's house after school one afternoon to use their computer. I
let Billy type it while I read it to him since he was also a better typist.
I noticed that while I was reading the story to Billy, he would stop
typing for a few seconds, or continue typing with only his right hand. He kept
putting his left hand on the fly of his pants. I asked him if he had wet.
"No, why?" he asked.
"You keep putting your hand there," I commented.
"I got a boner," he said. "You ever get them?"
"Of course, all the time. I got one right now."
"You ever play with it?" he asked.
"Sometimes, but I do it through my underwear."
"I always have diapers on, so that's how I have to do it. Kevin tells me
it'll get even better when you get older; he does it all the time. He says you
'come', which is kind of like wetting, but different."
Now I was curious about what it was like to "come."
"How? Does playing with it make you pee or something?" I asked naively.
"Kind of, but it comes out thicker, and it feels good."
"Thicker?" I wondered. This sounded sort of gross. My parents had not
taught me much about the birds and the bees and I had only obtained bits and
pieces of information-- often misleading, inaccurate or completely false-- from
other kids at school. I really didn't know much about puberty or sexual
development at this age, though I did start to become aware of how my interest
in diapers was the central focus of much of my sexual development.
About ten minutes later we heard giggling outside of the closed door. It
sounded like Becky and Amanda were listening in on us as I read the story aloud
to Billy so that he could type it.
A few minutes later the girls came right in without knocking. Billy turned
the monitor off so his sisters would not see the story on the screen.
"What'cha hiding, guys?" Becky asked.
"None of your business!" Billy said. "Get out!"
"It's something you don't want me to see, huh?"
"No!"
"It's a letter to your girlfriend!"
"No! Now get out!" Billy yelled at Becky.
"You can't make me!" Becky sassed.
I had set the handwritten version of my story down on the desk. I realized
how careless I was to leave it out in the open when Becky reached over me and
grabbed it.
"Is this what you're working on?" she said as she ran to the corner of the
room and looked at it.
"Hmmm...'You're Never Too Old for Diapers'," she started.
"Uh...can I have that back?" I asked Becky politely.
"Let me read it first!" she demanded, clutching onto the paper and holding
it against her chest.
Billy got up and tried to grab it from her, but she ran out of the room
with it. Billy chased her throughout the house until she made her escape into
her bedroom.
"My story!" I shrieked. It was too late to get it away from her without
her seeing it. What was she going to do with it? She could go to the store and
run off copies to hand out all over the school, or all over town! I was freaking
out over the whole thing as I feared that my story could conceivably get
distributed all over the world. What was really dumb was that I put my name on
it at the end! I was in hysterics.
Meanwhile, Billy was pounding furiously on Becky's bedroom door and
demanding that she give it back. All the commotion got the attention of Billy's
mom as she told Billy to leave his sister alone.
"She took something of mine and won't give it back!" Billy tattled.
His mom went to Becky's bedroom and told her to give back what she took
from him.
"Here, mom! You can read it now!" she said with a smirk on her face.
"Dammit!" I thought as I slapped myself on the forehead.
"Hmm, what is this?" his mom said as she sat down and read the wrinkled
and torn papers.
"'You're Never Too Old for Diapers'," his mom read.
"Tell me what this is about, Billy," she implored her son.
"It's Michael's story," he uttered.
She sat there and continued to read it, wondering why either one of us
would take such an interest in writing such material.
"There's nothing wrong with it...is there?" Billy asked humbly as his mom
continued to read it. "There's no dirty stuff...you know, like sex?"
"I wouldn't exactly say this is not 'dirty', Billy," his mom remarked.
"It's quite vulgar, that's for sure."
"So is Beavis and Butthead," Billy said.
"Yeah, and you know what I think of them, too."
His mom continued to skim over the remaining pages.
"Am I in trouble?" Billy asked. "Is Michael?"
She didn't answer as she there silently and glanced over the rest of the
story. Finally, she handed it back to Billy.
"I don't really understand this, Billy. It must be a boy's thing, writing
stuff like this. It's probably because I've kept you in diapers all your life."
His mom got up and returned to the kitchen.
"We're not in trouble?" Billy asked his mom.
"No, if that's what you want to write about, fine as long as it makes you
happy-- but I'd keep it to myself if I were you," she cautioned.
I was feeling better now that my story was safely back in our hands again,
and I also thought Billy's mom was pretty cool about the whole thing, though she
wasn't exactly approving or understanding of it.
We went back to the computer and completed typing the story. Billy ran two
copies off on the printer, one for me and one for himself. It was neatly typed
and spell-checked, just the way I wanted it. Every paragraph was lined up
perfectly on both sides. It looked good enough to be a book report.
As Christmas was less than two months away, I hoped that if I asked mom
and dad about getting a computer this year, they would do it. When I brought it
up, they didn't seem to be too keen on the idea because of the money.
"But I'm always over at Billy's using theirs!" I said. "You know I'd use
it!"
"Well, it'll depend on whether or not your father gets a bonus this year,"
mom told me.
From then on, I kept hoping that dad would get his bonus so that I could
get a computer. I had several other story ideas that I wanted to write about,
especially after reading Billy's "Peter the Pooper" story. He was a good writer
and he inspired me to improve upon my own writing skills. It helped to have a
topic that interested me, for starters, which was wearing diapers.
In hopes of getting a computer this Christmas, I started writing some
story ideas of my own on paper. I had looked at a list of some of the ideas that
Billy had at his house and tried to remember some of the scenarios that he
constructed. Finally, I got an idea of my own, a really good idea. I decided to
write a fantasy story about my own childhood. I was going to start it from the
incident at Aunt Martha's and Uncle Ken's, but then I decided to go back farther
to when I was still in toilet training-- and in diapers-- which would make a
good start for the story.
To help me think and to get me in the mood for writing about diapers, I
sat at my desk wearing Billy's diaper pants and my shirt. I had a blank piece of
paper and a pencil in front of me, ready to write down ideas as they came to
mind.
I had to dig way back into my mind and concentrate as I recalled some of
the more memorable moments of my toilet training. I remembered being yelled at
for having accidents so much after mom thought I could wear regular underwear.
It was Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle underwear, which was popular back when I was
that age. I could remember watching mom disappointedly toss the soiled briefs
into the trash, saying "Bye, bye, Rafael!" referring to one of the Ninja Turtle
characters.
As I thought about it, more details came into focus as I jotted them down.
I remember hearing Katie telling me I'd never get out of diapers because I was
so slow to train. She made a big production out of showing her friends a pile of
my soiled underwear and told them that I was put back into diapers.
Perhaps the most memorable moment was when I got tired of being told to go
sit on my potty chair, whether or not I needed to go. I resented having my play
time interrupted and having that time taken away from me do sit on that damn
potty chair. I hated toilet training as it was, and the way my parents handled
it made it that much worse. Here's what I wrote: The potty chair became a symbol
of displeasure to me. I hated being sent in to sit on it all the time. I hated
being forced to sit on it, which Katie did to me one time by holding me down.
Even when I did use it I never got much praise or recognition for it. It was
expected of me to use it or else. I hated to even look at it. One day, after
getting sent into the bathroom for the umpteenth time I got mad and tipped the
potty chair over, spilling the contents on the floor. "I don't wanna sit on no
stupid potty chair!" I yelled. This got mom's attention. She came to the
bathroom and saw what I had done. Looking at the spilled urine and feces all
over the floor, she yelled at me. "Look what you did! Look what you did! You are
in big trouble, young man!" Being called "young man" often meant that punishment
would follow. Mom grabbed me and pulled my pants down some more and delivered
several sharp smacks to my behind. After my butt felt like it was glowing like
hot embers in a fire, mom dragged me out of the bathroom and into my bedroom,
where she got out my diapers and put them on, and very thickly. "You'd better
count on wearing those awhile!" mom said as she left me bawling in my room with
only diapers and a shirt.
"This is good!" I thought as I jotted down the ideas that I was getting. I
decided that this would make a good start to my fantasy story. I thought long
and hard about a title, until I finally came up with "Messy Michael."
From that incident with the potty chair, I decided to abandon fact and let
embellishment and fantasy take over. In real life, I was taken out of the
diapers and sent back to using the potty chair the next day, but in my fantasy,
I decided that the story would be a lot better if my toilet training had been
abandoned completely and the diaper usage implemented indefinitely. Here's an
excerpt of what I wrote:
I walked by the bathroom where I saw mom washing out my potty chair. I was
still in diapers and had been just changed. The dry cloth rubbed tightly against
my little bottom as I waddled with each step, trying to walk with the thick
diapers wedged in between my legs. I wondered how long "awhile" was going to be,
as mom had told me from the day before. I needed to go to the bathroom, and I
felt guilty about yesterday's incident, so I wanted another chance to prove that
I was ready to be a big boy again and get my Ninja Turtle underwear back again.
"I need to go," I told mom. "You've got a diaper on, Michael, why are you
telling me?" "What are doing with my potty chair?" I asked. Mom carried it out
of the bathroom and out to the garage where it would join a pile of other stuff
that had been stored out there. "I'm putting it away until I have
grandchildren!" she said. "When are you having grandchildren?" I asked mom. "Oh,
perhaps in twenty years, who knows?" mom said as she placed the chair high upon
a shelf. "I need to go, mom!" I said, trying to close my legs together, which
was impossible to do with the way I was diapered so heavily. "Well, go, then!
I'll change you in a little bit." "What about my potty chair?" "Forget the potty
chair, Michael! You haven't used it, and you won't use it, so what's the sense
in even having it?" "Can I use the big toilet?" "No! Those diapers will stay on
you from now on!"
I was getting really excited as I continued to write, making a number of
revisions along the way. It looked sloppy with deletions scribbled out, but I
knew that I would eventually get it typed and formatted nicely, either on the
computer at Billy's house, or on my own computer if I were to get one this
Christmas.
I worked diligently for the next hour drafting ideas and putting them into
words. The words flowed out smoothly as the story was coming together
coherently. To me, it was a masterpiece in the works. Suddenly Katie barged in
unexpectedly. I slid forward in my chair so that she wouldn't see that I was
wearing Billy's underpants.
"Why are you in your underwear now?" she asked. "It's only six o' clock."
"I'm just doing some writing," I said, covering up my papers.
"And you have to be in your underwear to do it?" she asked rhetorically.
"You're sure awfully quiet, Michael. I was wondering if you were even here. Come
on, mom will have dinner ready soon."
From that night, I became quite preoccupied with my stories. I didn't play
with my toys as much. Mom began to wonder why I was doing so much writing. She
thought my teacher was assigning too many writing assignments, but when she
contacted my teacher, she found out that I was only working on my own projects.
This led her to think that I was depressed or having problems since a lot
of kids who felt this way often wrote out their feelings as a means of therapy.
"It's just a story," I said.
"I'd like to see what you're writing. I want to know that you are applying
your scholastic skills properly. It's good that you're writing, Michael."
"I'll let you see it when I finish, okay?" I said just to keep mom at bay
for the time being.
"Okay. It must be some story, because you sure have been working on it a
lot."
It was only a matter of time before I would get caught wearing Billy's
underwear. One night I couldn't sleep. I had a lot of good story ideas running
through my mind, and I didn't want to lose these ideas. I had a lot of momentum
going and I wanted to take advantage of it while I had such a strong urge to
write. I got up and worked on my story some more. I only turned on the lamp on
my desk, but it still produced enough light to shine underneath the bottom of
the door and out into the hallway, Mom had gotten up for some reason and saw
that I was awake.
She knocked on the door.
"Michael!" Why are you up?"
"I couldn't sleep," I said.
I wasn't able to clearly hear mom's muted whispering. She then opened the
door.
"It's 2:30 in the morning!"
"I know. I wanted to work on something."
"Look, Michael. I know you want to work on your writing, but you also need
your sleep. Now go to bed."
"But I couldn't sleep, mom! I'll just lie awake, anyway if I do go to
bed!"
"Is something wrong? Is something bothering you?" mom asked with a
concerned tone. "Please, Michael, tell me. Tell me what's bothering you."
"Mom, nothing is bothering me. I am okay," I said firmly.
"You have school in the morning, you know," mom advised me. "Please go to
bed, Michael, okay?"
"Okay," I sighed, abruptly setting my pencil down. "Goodnight."
I went back to bed thinking about my story. As I thought about it, I
produced an erection that would not go away. Still in its pre-pubescent stage,
my rigid penis was pressed in between my waist and the heavy absorbent layers of
the underpants. I lay on my stomach and rolled to the left and right, feeding
and fueling my early urges to explore this sensation some more.
I lay on my back and massaged the front of the diapers. I continued to
play with my stiffie beneath the layers, producing a very pleasant sensation. I
wasn't able to ejaculate yet, but I did continue to play with myself through the
diapers until I felt a sudden jolt. It felt good at first, rubbing my hands over
the soft padding on my front until my penis became too sensitive to handle. My
heart was thumping hard, both from shaking myself around on the bed vigorously
and from the excitement of this incredible, yet unexpected sensation.
"Shit! What did I just do to myself?!" I thought.
My feelings of ecstasy turned to feelings of guilt and worry. I started to
wonder if this feeling may have been an indication of "overdoing" it. Perhaps
this was my body's way of saying that I attained an erection beyond my body's
capacity. I feared that I may have damaged my penis. When I thought of how my
erection was confined to the tight constraints of the diaper, this compounded my
worries even more. Perhaps it needed more "breathing space," which was the best
term I could think of. I vowed never to do this again and never take such a
"risk" and to never to do this again.
As it turned out, "never" only lasted about a day.
MICHAEL'S DIAPER STORIES: PART 5
--------------------------------
As time went on, I became more physically matured as I passed through
puberty. I was getting larger genitals and sprouting hair around them. I was
also becoming more responsive to certain stimuli, mainly my diaper stories.
Every time I worked on my writing, I had a boner that was trying to find its way
out of the thick diaper pants, only to be restricted by the thick wall of cotton
in front of it. If I had a really good idea going I would keep writing about it
until I couldn't stand the tension any longer. I would then go to my bed and
massage myself through the diaper pants, intensifying the tingling, pleasant
sensation that accompanied this activity. My body had just developed the ability
to ejaculate, which freaked me out the first time it happened; I wasn't
expecting it. When it did happen, I immediately stopped massaging my front and
stood up from my bed. I pulled the diaper pants down and took a look to see what
came out of me. I knew that it wasn't pee from they way it felt. I looked at the
front of the diaper's inside and saw a thick, white substance smeared into the
fabric. Now I really felt that I had "overdone" it. Again I told myself that I
wouldn't do this again, b I knew damn well that I would be probably catch myself
doing it again and again since it felt so good.
Since I had only known Billy for a couple months, I didn't feel
comfortable enough to discuss this newly discovered activity with him. On the
other hand, there was nobody better to talk to about it than Billy as he was my
only real friend. I was afraid to ask my parents about it, and they didn't
volunteer to offer me any information about the changes that I was experiencing.
I certainly wasn't about to ask Katie about it. Aside from the obvious fact that
she was a girl, I didn't trust her enough anyway had she been my brother
instead.
The answers to my questions and concerns about this were given to me by
surprise one day when I came home from school and started working on my
homework. I opened my desk drawer and saw that a book had been placed there,
presumably by my mom or perhaps my dad. The book was titled "Boys and Sex". I
put off my homework and decided to look at the book instead. It discussed the
very things that I had been wondering about.
I continued to read the book over the next few nights whenever I didn't
feel like doing homework or working on my diaper stories. To me, the most
notable fact I learned from the book was that there was a word for playing with
my boners-- "masturbation". Being as uninformed as I was, the fact that this
word existed came to me as quite a surprise. I was even more surprised to learn
that most, if not all boys masturbate.
As I continued to read this chapter, I learned that most boys, however,
probably did not masturbate the same way I did. It was described in the book as
handling the bare genitals. I always did it while wearing Billy's diaper pants.
I pondered whether or not what I was doing was still considered masturbation.
The book did help to assure me that I was not damaging my penis from
masturbating, nor was the resulting reaction of ejaculating because of
"overdoing" it.
I was given the book shortly after I told my mom that I wanted to start
doing my own laundry. My mom may have sensed this as a cue that I was developing
and, therefore, masturbating. A lot of parents must know to expect this from
their kids.
The main reason I wanted to do my own laundry was not because I was too
embarrassed my mom to see what I had done to the sheets or my underwear, but
because I needed to wash the diaper pants that Billy had given me. He told me
that I could keep the pairs that I had been "borrowing" from him since he had
plenty more pairs.
If the diaper pants didn't need to be washed because of peeing and pooping
in them, it was because I was depositing my joy juice in them every night. I
tried to avoid using the toilet within the last few hours of bedtime so that I
could use the diaper pants and savor the wetness. I had a total of four pairs
that Billy had given me, plus he had given me a pair of plastic pants so that I
wouldn't get my bed wet. This gave me an ample supply so that I could wash them
every couple of days or so. I wanted to double up the pairs for extra thickness
as this was what I preferred to do, but I needed to make my supply last longer,
so I started wearing just one pair with plastic pants.
Since I always took a glass of water with me to bed, this ensured that I
would need to go at sometime during the night. I wished that I could wet in my
sleep like Billy could do, but my body was trained (mis-trained, that is) to
wake up when my bladder was full enough to warrant a trip to the bathroom.
Whenever I woke up, I just lay there and let the pee flow out into the diaper. I
felt the warm liquid spread around underneath the plastic and the several layers
of cotton in the underpants. It was such a wonderful feeling. By this time I had
a hard-on that demanded attention, so I played with it until I deposited a
different kind of wetness into the diapers that were already soaked with piss.
Unless I really soaked up the diaper, I would leave the wet pair on and go to
sleep, changing back into underwear in the morning. To avoid having my mom
detect the presence of my used diaper pants, either by sight or by odor, I
always stuffed them into the bottom of my hamper beneath a pile of dirty socks,
shirts, and underpants.
The best times I had while using the diaper pants were when I waited until
I had a good poop waiting to come out. Because of the risks of being detected
involved and the amount of clean-up that followed pooping in the diaper pants, I
could only have my messing "accidents" occasionally, usually on a Friday or
Saturday night, which I especially looked forward to for this very reason.
Rather than get up and go to the toilet, I would stay in bed and shit
right there into the padded briefs, usually adding to a deposit of pee that had
been just placed in there. After I squeezed the last log out and let it squish
up against the thick, cotton wall that formed the seat of the diaper pants, I
would run my hands down the wide, thick crotch and back to the bulky seat, where
I could feel the load packed in between my buttocks. This got my young hormones
raging wildly as I started to massage myself vigorously until I came. These
experiences gave me more material to include in my diaper stories. Likewise, I
often thought about my stories as I engaged in "diaper play". I thought it was
so great that my diaper play help to fulfill my story-writing and vice-versa.
After I jacked off into my already-loaded briefs, I lay there for a few
minutes and relaxed before getting up to clean myself up, which I realized
defeated the purpose of pooping in bed in the first place. It was still a lot
more exciting to dump a large load and feel it on my buttocks for awhile than to
just go sit on the toilet.
I usually waited until mom and dad were in bed before blowing mud into the
diapers. Sometimes they would stay up extra late, especially on weekends, and I
would have to lie in bed in poopy diaper pants for at least another hour or
more. Being more or less forced to stay in poopy diapers added to the excitement
of it all even more, which gave me more to write about in my stories.
Cleaning up after a messy accident involved a great deal of time and
effort to cover up my tracks. I also had to rely on luck, as in timing, as there
was always the possibility for someone in the family to get up in the middle of
the night to use the bathroom, which is where I would be found doing my clean-up
work.
It took me a few runs to work everything out so that I would not get
caught. First, I took off the plastic pants and left them in my room so nobody
would hear them crinkle when I walked into the bathroom. I then brought with me
a clean pair of regular underwear to wear back to my room when I was done. I
usually got away with carrying the soiled briefs back to my room, but one time
dad got up and came to the bathroom, so I had to hide the briefs underneath the
sink and retrieve them after he left the bathroom and returned to bed. That was
a close call.
Once I was in the bathroom I took the diaper pants off. After getting a
couple of poop droppings on the floor mat and setting light brown stains in it,
I learned to stand on bare tile so that I could just wipe up anything that drips
out.
Next I shook the excess poop out of the diaper pants into the toilet. I
usually ended up wiping splatters off of the seat and the rest of the porcelain
surface of the toilet, and sometimes the surrounding floor. By this time the
entire bathroom stank strongly of poop.
Even after the diaper pants were off of me and cleared of excess fecal
matter, my butt was still plastered heavily. The easiest thing to do would have
been to go to the shower and spray the mess off of my butt, but the sound of
water running in the bathroom would have easily gotten everyone's attention. I
ended up using toilet paper, lots of it. In fact, it always required two
flushings, sometimes three as I would have otherwise overloaded the toilet bowl
with such large wads of ass-wipe. I just had to hope that nobody would notice
how much of the toilet paper roll was depleted for my cleanup.
As long as everything else went as I planned, only the remaining odor that
filled the bathroom could possibly arouse suspicion. As long as the odor
dissipated before the next user entered the bathroom, there was no detectable
trace of my presence. As the diaper pants still had a lot of poop embedded into
the seat and crotch, they gave off a tell-tale odor, so I took care of getting
them in the wash as soon as I got up the next morning. As I included them with
the rest of my laundry, nobody ever suspected that I also had poopy diaper pants
in my laundry basket.
One time I wasn't as lucky in my timing. I thought I had it planned out
well enough. It was Thanksgiving night. I had eaten plenty that day, so my
bowels had to make room to digest the turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes and all
that other food I ate, forcing out of me the poop that was already being
processed. Mom was going to hit all the early morning Christmas sales tomorrow
before going to her work, and dad would be stuck at his place of work. I didn't
think Katie would pose any problem, so I decided that it was a good night for a
heavily soiled diaper.
Just as I expected, there was a large load finding its way through my
bowels, building up and ready to dump out. I got up from bed and checked to see
if mom and dad had gone to bed yet. Being that they had, I decided to really
mess my diaper pants good. It came out powerfully as a huge load exiting from by
butt. The mess was filling what space it had between my skin and the diapers. It
was loose and runny, not quite diarrhea-grade poop, but had this bowel movement
gone into a toilet, it wouldn't have come out in nice, smooth, perfectly formed
turds, but rather, several large gooey globs.
This bowel movement did not go into a toilet of course. It felt so nasty
squishing around between my butt and the diapers. I felt so nasty lying there
imagining what I would look like if I had done this sort of thing while sitting
out in the living room. I imagined myself being on punishment for pooping my
pants all the time, so I got put into diapers. Mom was making me wear them
permanently from now on, and it was all I could ever wear. I was not to change
them and I was to leave this duty to my mom or to Katie. I thought of what it
would be like to have to sit in poopy diapers for an entire afternoon or an
entire day.
I was deeply engrossed in fantasy and thinking of more material for my
stories. I tried to lie there in bed for as long as I could and savor my
thoughts, but my excitement got the best of me and I ended up masturbating to
ejaculation. I knew I was really shaking the bed vigorously, banging my
headboard against the wall a couple of times. I was afraid of Katie hearing me
through the wall as her bedroom was right next door to me. As I continued to lie
there, I felt the messy mass weighing heavily in the diaper and thought that I
should get it cleaned up.
I got into the bathroom and pulled the loaded diaper pants off. They were
so full of poop and lots of excess fecal matter dripped onto the floor. A lot of
it was caked on my backside and dripping off of it. I left quite a mess on the
floor, some of it on the mat. I started cleaning up the floor, when suddenly
someone knocked on the bathroom door. "Are you coming out soon?" quietly sounded
Katie's voice. "I'll be out in just a minute," I said. "You've been in there a
long time," she said. "I've been standing here waiting."
I knew that I would be awhile longer still. I also feared that Katie would
wake mom and dad if she kept talking to me through the bathroom door. I had no
choice but to put the messy diaper pants back on over my butt, still unwiped. I
was afraid of leaving the diaper pants under the sink for later retrieval as
they were so messy and smelly that Katie would know they were there. I also had
to figure out how to get out of the bathroom without having Katie see that I was
wearing diaper pants. Quickly thinking, I slipped my underpants on over the
diaper pants and pulled my shirt down over them.
Quickly I walked by Katie to minimize my exposure to her. I saw her look
down at me as I slipped by her, hoping that she wouldn't see what I was doing or
what I was wearing. I was back in my room waiting for her to finish up in the
bathroom. I sat at my desk by the door in the dark, watching and waiting for
Katie to exit the bathroom. When she did leave, she came to my room and turned
on the light. I was sitting by my desk when she looked at me.
"Michael, what are you doing? Why aren't you in bed?" "I wasn't done in
there," I said nervously.
"Good God, what were you doing?! It really smells in there, you know." "I
was having...diarrhea," I said.
"Really...again?"
Katie was making reference to the fact that this was a frequent problem of
mine, also a good basis for the stories I was working on. "Is that why your
underpants are on so thick?," she asked me. "Vicki's mom makes her brother
Stephen do that when he has diarrhea," she added, referring to her best friend.
"It makes him look like he's in a diaper!"
I closed my legs to try to hide the thick bulge from showing. Because I
had regular briefs on over the diaper pants, it looked like I was just wearing
thicker briefs, as if I were just wearing several other pairs underneath, which
is what Katie must have thought she saw me wearing. "The bathroom's yours...,"
Katie said as she started to walk off.
I started to get up, but before I did, Katie asked me one more thing. "And
what was all that noise you were making earlier?," she asked.
"Noise?"
"You were banging your headboard against the wall." "I don't know. I must
have been having a bad dream," I lied.
"No, I think I know what you were doing; all boys do it. You might want to
move your bed or do it more quietly. Well, goodnight."
I continued to sit in the chair stunned, embarrassed that Katie knew what
I was doing in my bed every night, I decided to heed her suggestion and move my
bed, which I did when I got back from the bathroom.
I was back to where I started fifteen minutes ago. By now the mess had set
up and hardened to a stickier consistency. I took the soiled diaper pants off
and slopped poop onto the floor. I shook the mess out of them and into the
toilet, again creating a bigger mess in the process. Getting my butt cleaned off
was a four-flusher job this time. I must have used half a roll of toilet paper.
I even replaced the remaining roll with a new one so nobody would notice. I
still felt some unwiped areas on my behind when I put the regular underpants on.
As I went to back to bed, I thought of everything I had to do to get cleaned up
and reminded myself of why I only messed my diaper pants on occasion.
I got up the next morning and took care of my laundry first thing, even
though my favorite cartoon had already started. Katie saw me carrying my hamper
to the washing machine.
"You must have really pooped up your underwear last night," she said,
smiling. I ignored her.
"That must be why you're doing your laundry now, huh?"
After I got the wash started I sat in front of the TV with Katie to watch
cartoons. She saw that there was still a big skid-mark in my underwear from last
night. I knew it wasn't clean, but I was so concerned with getting my laundry
done that I forgot to change this morning.
"Eew, yuk! You still have diarrhea, Michael!" "Huh?," I said.
"Diarrhea, you know? The runs? The shits?" "I'm okay now," I said.
"I don't want you getting your poopy butt all over everything!"
I didn't say anything to Katie. I did, however, like hearing her tell me
not to get poop all over everything. I felt so naughty, so childish, keeping
inside of me my most secret feelings that I was having.
As it turned out, I was getting diarrhea, or at least I was still having
runny stools. It was about 9:30 A.M., when Katie and I were watching The Price
is Right. Katie had gotten up to take a shower and do everything else that a
girl does in a bathroom to get herself prettied up. It was at this time that I
needed to use the bathroom myself. I wasn't diapered, and therefore, I was not
prepared for having an accident, a real accident.
I felt the next load making its way to my anus. At first I thought I could
hold it back until Katie got out of the bathroom. I was desperate, so I got up
and knocked on the door to ask Katie if I could use the toilet. Inside the
bathroom I could still hear the shower water running! She probably wasn't able
to hear me knocking. "Katie! I need to use the bathroom!," I shouted.
I heard her sliding the curtain open, leaving the water running. "Go
outside!," she shouted. "I have to poop!," I told her. I was crossing my legs as
hard as I could. I even knelt down to the floor and sat on my heel to hold back
the oncoming rush from my tush.
"Let me finish my shower! Do it in your underwear if you have to! You've
done it before!"
She was kidding, at least I thought she was, but my impatient bowels
weren't kidding around. The pressure and the pain became too much to handle, so
into my underwear went a big load.
I quickly darted off to my bedroom where I could change. I went into my
room and closed the door. I took off the badly soiled underwear, smeared with
watery feces from one side of the seat to the other. I stood in my room naked
from the waist down and looked at the huge stain, in a new pair of underwear
nonetheless. I was both excited and embarrassed. I was excited because of the
implications this situation made to at least a temporary need for diapers. At
the same time, it was embarrassing to have an actual accident.
The smell of my mess filled the room, so I opened my window to let the
odor dissipate, never minding the fact that it was 20 degrees that morning.
I realized that if I put on another pair of underwear it would still get
soiled right away from rubbing up against the butt mud on my bum. All I could do
was to wait until Katie left the bathroom so I could clean up. She knew I had
diarrhea anyway, so I didn't need to hide that fact from her.
I stood in my room and waited for her to come out. When she did, finally,
she shouted "The bathroom's yours!"
Too late, I thought. I fetched a clean pair of underwear and carried it
out with me while I walked to the bathroom naked and my butt still smeared
heavily with poop. I held my underwear in front of my privates in case Katie
should happen to see me.
Once in the bathroom I stood at the toilet and tried to wipe off the mess
the best I could, but I still wasn't clean down there and ended up using the
shower to wash it out. As Katie had just showered, the initial blast of water
came out warm. I bent over and pulled my buttocks apart as the spray cleansed
out my poopy crack. I then let the shower run until the brown water in the
bottom of the tub was completely down the drain.
I slipped on my underpants and returned to my room where I got dressed.
The smell was gone, but so was the heat as an icy wind gusted through my
screened window, keeping the torrent of snow out. I was still wet from the waist
below and feeling very chilly. Immediately, I shut the window.
Later on I had a minor accident while in my room working on my story. As I
was busy writing about a messing accident, it seemed fitting that I had one for
real. As I was home with Katie all day, I couldn't wear the diaper pants around
like I wanted to. Still, it felt good to deposit another load into my pants, at
least in the privacy of my own room.
The damage wasn't extensive, though it did require a change of pants and
underwear. I only had to wipe up this time and didn't need to stand in the
shower again. I returned from the bathroom and threw my pants and underwear on
top of the growing pile of soiled clothing in my hamper.
It seemed like my diarrhea was getting worse before it would get better. I
couldn't really blame it on yesterday's Thanksgiving meal since Katie wasn't
affected by it as far as I knew. I might as well have just grabbed a couple of
good books and parked myself on the toilet, but that would have been a drag. I
was bummed out anyway since it was an extra day off from school. I planned to
invite Billy over to play in the snow or perhaps go sledding when and if the
storm let up, but since I had diarrhea, I felt-- well-- like shit. My pants and
underwear took another hit soon afterwards.
In spite of the way I felt, I made a turkey sandwich from Thanksgiving
leftovers and warmed up some mashed potatoes. Whether or not it exacerbated my
illness, I wasn't sure, though it probably didn't help matters any. I could feel
my bowels busy at work producing more butt spew. If I didn't make to the
bathroom, I would have another accident. "Man, a diaper would sure be nice," I
thought as I lay down on the couch and napped. A few minutes later I woke up
with a heavy load ready to come out, I got up from the couch, but despite the
short distance to the bathroom, I didn't make it. I was down another pair of
pants and another pair of underwear.
MICHAEL'S DIAPER STORIES: PART 6
--------------------------------
In the course of one day, I soiled three pairs of pants and three pairs of
underwear. By this time there wasn't much of anything solid coming out of me,
just liquid, brown, smelly squirts.
I went to my closet and saw that I had no more clean pants. I thought
about wearing a pair of shorts that had been put away until next summer, but
then I decided, "What's the use? They'll just get shit-covered, too."
I then went around in my underwear for the rest of the day. I needed to
get my pants washed, but Katie was busy doing her own laundry. I was also
feeling too ill to really care too much about doing it at the moment. I didn't
really need to wear pants for anything right now, I justified, being stuck at
home as I was.
Katie was teasing me about having so many accidents from my diarrhea. She
laughed at me when she asked me why I wasn't wearing any pants and told her I
didn't have any more clean ones to wear.
"Really? Oh well," she said, completely lacking sympathy for me as she
carried another load of her laundry from her room.
"Maybe I can borrow a pair of your pants," I suggested to Katie.
"No way!" Katie refused my suggestion. "You're not pooping in *my* pants,
brother!"
"Then can I use the washer after you?" I asked her.
"I have two more loads, then you can use it."
"Two more loads?" I sighed. I probably had two more loads of my own, loads
of a different sort, that is. Man, I hated sisters. Why did they always have to
buy so many clothes anyway?
"If you just wear your underwear you can get them off faster next time you
need to go," Katie suggested, "and you won't keep crapping in your pants if
you're not even wearing them."
Though Katie did have a valid point, she was just teasing me for pooping
in my pants. The one disadvantage of being in just my underwear was that it made
the furniture, the carpet and anything I was sitting on more vulnerable in the
event that I had another accident. After a couple hours I thought that I was
feeling better, though I had also become more tired by then, so I lay down on
the couch and took a nap.
It wasn't long before I woke up again and felt that another accident was
imminent. My bowels were not ready to close down my fudge factory just yet,
Today, the "factory" was producing chocolate syrup instead of fudge,
metaphorically speaking. I could have made it to the toilet, and I should have
gone in there and let it shoot out and spray the toilet bowl, but I continued to
sit on the couch, ignoring my body's signals that told me to get to a toilet or
else. Maybe it was just because I had a desire to wear diapers that I didn't
want to "waste" an accident and go to the toilet. My conscience told me to use
the toilet, but I did not, and by the time I started regretting having the
accident, it was too late. Having only a pair of underwear on was not sufficient
protection from getting the couch messy.
Katie was disgusted by the unsightliness and the smell of the big, wet
brown spot that spanned the seat of my underwear.
"Michael! You had another accident?!"
"Yes, Katie," I said humbly with my head hung low. "I couldn't help it!"
"And you got it on the couch, too! Eccch!"
"I'll clean it up," I said.
"No, get yourself cleaned up and changed! I'll take of it instead!"
I went into my room and retrieved a clean pair of underwear. Fortunately I
had an ample supply of underpants as I took a look at the remaining pairs in the
drawer. I walked into the bathroom and wiped myself up again. The diameter of
the toilet paper roll was waning quickly with each accident I had.
I came out of my room and returned to the living room, where Katie was
busy wiping up the poop stains on the couch.
"Little brothers!" she fretted as she scrubbed the cushion off. I started
to sit down in dad's recliner, but Katie told me not to sit in it.
"What? I'm clean!"
"Yeah, for how long?"
"I don't know, Katie! I have diarrhea!"
"Duh, really?" she shouted sarcastically.
"Look, Michael, I know you *could* make it to the toilet, but you're just
waiting too long!"
"Have you ever had diarrhea?" I asked. "Do you know what it's like to try
to get to a toilet?"
"Yes, Michael, and I do make it! Look, I think you just don't really care
whether or not you have an accident! It's a sign of immaturity!"
Katie was confronting me again, and whenever she did, she did it in a very
dominating and controlling way. I wouldn't admit it to anyone, but I was afraid
of my sister when she got mad at me. I envisioned horns popping out of her
forehead.
"Come with me to your room!" she shouted. "I'll put a stop to this!"
"Wait? What are you going in there for?" I asked her as I followed her.
She continued going until she got to my room.
She went to my underwear drawer and grabbed several waistbands with each
hand, throwing two large stacks of briefs on my bed.
"Put those on!" she demanded.
I looked at the two stacks, each of which had fallen over against each
other.
"All of them?"
"The way your butt's cranking out the crap today, yes!"
I knew what she was doing to me. She was going to make me wear the
underwear in multiples so that it would be like wearing a diaper.
"What is this for?" I asked.
"Since you're too big to wear diapers, this will have to do! This is what
Vicki's brother does. He has the same problem! He gets the shits and then just
poops in his pants! They started making him wear his underwear like a diaper!
Must be a boys thing! You guys are so immature!"
Katie continued to rant furiously over her frustration, and perhaps her
lack of understanding of this behavior, which she seemed to attribute to being
something only a boy would do. I started putting the underwear on while she
stood and watched.
"I would *hate* to have accidents like you're having! I think it's because
girls are more responsible than boys! My friends wouldn't do this, but I'm sure
your friend Billy would!"
It struck me as somewhat odd that she cast Billy in this light in which
she is attributing to boyish behavior. She didn't even know it yet that Billy
wore diapers. Meanwhile she continued to make other comparisons between girls
and boys and then got off on a tangent about responsibility, which found its way
back to the subject of wearing diapers, citing the incident I had two years ago.
"You must want to wear diapers! Why did you try them on at Aunt Martha's
and Uncle Ken's?"
"I just wanted to."
"You must, because I looked at the front of your underwear, before you put
it all on, of course! Look, I think mom should have just left you in diapers!"
That was the last thing Katie said before she heard the phone ring. I kept
replaying it over and over in my mind-- "mom should have just left you in
diapers!"
I must have put on at least a dozen pairs of underwear, more likely
eighteen. Like rings on a tree, I counted the waistbands that were hugging
against my stomach so tightly, nearly to the point of constriction. I was close,
there were nineteen pairs. I reached into the drawer and pulled on one more pair
for an even twenty.
I felt like I was wearing a diaper again! The layers of cotton all packed
together didn't have the fluffiness quality that the diaper underpants had, but
they still felt very thick and soft. I now felt very secure, though the
waistbands-- stretched to the max on the outer pairs from the bulk underneath--
were too tight of a fit.
I walked around and felt several layers running through my crotch, enough
to prevent me from keeping my legs as closely together as they normally were. My
rear was indeed well padded, as was the front, even more so with all of the fly
fronts, creating an extra layer in each pair. I wished I could have been wearing
the double-seated pairs that they used to make, but I still had plenty of
padding as it was.
Katie was still on the phone when I went out to the living room. Judging
from the sound of Katie's voice, it wasn't a friend she was talking to. I then
figured out it was mom.
"Mom's coming home early," Katie said to me while still on the phone.
"Tell her to bring home some Kaopectate," I told Katie.
"Oh, by the way, mom, can you pick up some diapers?" Katie asked mom.
Since she was smirking, I could tell she was kidding.
"Yes, he has diarrhea again!" Katie answered mom emphatically. "I've got
it under control, though."
Katie then hung up the phone.
"Mom will be home as soon as she can. The roads are really bad and it may
take her awhile."
"Did she say she was bringing any Kaopectate?" I asked.
"She didn't say. If she brings you diapers, then you won't need any
Kaopectate, now will you?"
Katie was such a smart-ass, but so much of her sarcasm rang true with me.
If I were wearing real diapers I wouldn't need to take any medicine, though the
diapers wouldn't make me feel any better, at least in my digestive system.
Diapers, and diaper substitutes such as what I was wearing, did make me feel
better in another area. I had an erection underneath all those layers from being
padded up like this. I wanted to act on it, but I didn't want Katie to hear me
shaking the bed in my room. The urge was too great and too intense to leave
unfulfilled, so I lay on the floor, which would be less noisy. I massaged myself
through my twenty fly fronts. I heard the phone ring, but I knew Katie would get
it and didn't want to disrupt my activity. Just as I ejaculated, Katie through
the door open and saw me on the floor playing with myself.
"Billy's on the phone," she said, hesitating when she realized what I was
doing.
"I'll tell him you'll be right with him," she said, sounding embarrassed
as she walked away from my room. I was surely more embarrassed than she was.
I went out to the kitchen and talked to Billy on the phone. Since his mom
had the day off, he got stuck Christmas shopping with them all day. It sounded
about as exciting as my day, aside from having diarrhea.
"Michael's got the shi-its! Michael's got the shi- its!" Katie taunted
with the intention of having Billy hear her in the background.
"She's saying I have the shits," I told Billy.
"Do you?" he asked me.
"Yeah, I have diarrhea," I said.
"And he has to poop in his underwear now!" Katie shouted.
"What are you wearing?" Billy asked me. "Are you wearing those diaper
pants?"
"No, but Katie told me to put a bunch of underpants on."
"And I caught him playing with himself in them!" Katie added.
"Katie, quiet!" I shouted.
"Michael is a poo-py butt! Michael is a poo-py butt!"
"I'll call you back Billy," I sighed in annoyance.
"Katie! I was on the phone!"
"So? You do the same thing when I talk to my friends!"
"I do not!"
"You do too!" she argued.
"I do not!" I countered.
"Do too!"
"Do not!"
"Do too!"
Just like any argument between two siblings, this one got nowhere.
Eventually it fizzled out and we each went our own ways. I went into my room and
got out my story. Given today's experience, I had plenty to write about. Unlike
the other stories that I had written, this one did not have to involve any
fantasy or embellishment, though there was room for it. I wrote about today as
it actually happened. I enjoyed being able to indicate that this particular
story was completely true. I decided to write an embellished version based on
the true version afterwards. The day wasn't even over with yet, and I still had
yet to face mom and dad dressed the way I was, so the story I was writing was
still in progress, happening as I wrote it. As I hadn't yet done anything in my
multiple pairs of underwear, I didn't even have the chance to write about having
any good, messy bowel movements in the makeshift diaper I was wearing. I
expected that opportunity to happen shortly, and I was not disappointed when it
did happen.
I sat at my desk writing about it as I felt the next bout of diarrhea
coming on. My underwear was layered on me so thickly that applying extra
pressure to my bum with the chair was ineffectual in holding back the free-
running flow of poop that poured into the seats of my briefs. The high- rising
waistbands in the rear ensured plenty of capacity for a big dump such as the one
I was having right now. My entire butt and crotch felt wet and sticky underneath
the twenty layers that separated my butt from the chair, at least a solid inch,
maybe two inches.
This method of makeshift diapering did prove itself to be effective in
containing my wastes. Had I been expected to make it to the toilet it would have
been a race against my body's ability to hold back such a volume of runny poop.
The only way I could hold back a poop was to cross my legs, and with as much
underwear as I was wearing, this method was rendered futile.
Now I had a big mess in my underwear and it needed to be taken care of.
Once again I heard the phone ring, which Katie answered. Thinking it was Billy
calling back, I got up and went out to the kitchen. It turned out to be mom
again.
"Oh, no!" I thought. It had been over an hour since she called. She said
was delayed by a traffic snarl on the freeway, but assured us she would be home
very soon.
After Katie hung up she asked me if I still felt like I had diarrhea.
"I just went," I said.
"I would have never known had you not told me," she said. "That underwear
works quite nicely for a diaper! I can still smell it a little, though."
I went back to my room to change. I pulled open my underwear drawer and
realized that I only had eight pairs left. It then occurred to me that I
probably got only the first three or four pairs dirty. I knew that there was a
large volume of loose poop that would splat down when I took off the underwear.
I didn't want to risk getting it on the carpet, so I grabbed some old newspapers
from the wash room. While I was in there I thought about getting my wash done.
Right now my underwear was more of a priority than my pants, so I decided to put
them off until I ran my underwear through the wash first.
I went into the bathroom and laid out the newspapers. Just as I expected,
several globs of poop descended messily to the floor. It had come out more
solidly than I expected, though I still wasn't out of the woods as far as my
diarrhea was concerned.
I was such a big mess. My entire rump was plastered heavily with poop,
with more of it in between my cheeks. Only the first four pairs of underwear
sustained any stain damage. I could have easily worn six, maybe eight pairs, but
I liked the diaper-like qualities that my underwear took on when it was layered
together so thick. I decided to put on the remaining sixteen clean pairs and add
another four after I got myself cleaned up.
Rather than skim off a few dozen more squares from the toilet paper roll,
I got back into the shower and let the water spray me off. I wiped myself dry
and put on the clean pairs, about four at a time since the entire set was too
thick to pull up at once. I picked up the soiled underwear and added it to the
pile of other soiled pairs that had faced the same fate that day. I then went to
my underwear drawer and decided to put on all eight remaining pairs, making for
a total of twenty-four layers. As I was a young, developing diaper fetishist,
the notion of wearing diapers as thickly as possible appealed to me immensely.
I went back into the bathroom and grabbed the dirtied newspapers. Mom had
come home just as I was walking out to the garage to drop the papers into the
garbage.
"Hi, mom!" I said nervously. I knew she wasn't expecting to see me wearing
twenty-four pairs of underwear.
"Hi, Michael."
"I'm so glad you're home!" I said, trying to stave off the ensuing
confrontation.
"I am too. It's really bad out there," mom sighed.
So far, she didn't seem to even notice, but my bulging briefs and the
assorted array of red, blue, and black stripes on the waistbands spanning my
back made it quite obvious that I was wearing a lot of underwear.
Mom knelt down and grabbed a few waistbands from my side, letting go of
them, all snapping back on me at once.
"What is this, Michael?"
"I told you to bring him some diapers, mom!" Katie said with a grin.
"What? Is that why you're wearing your underwear that way?"
"Katie told me to," I said.
"Katie, this is ridiculous! Why did you have him do this?"
"He kept pooping his pants and he ran out of them, so then he was sitting
on the couch in his underwear. Sure enough, he pooped again, made a mess, so I
had him put all his underwear on!"
"Michael, go take it off. That has to be awfully tight and uncomfortable!
And take this Kaopectate, too."
"It's all right," I said, hoping that I could get to wear them around
awhile longer and enjoy their padded-up feeling.
"If you have diarrhea, Michael, you'll *never* get all those down in time
when you go to the toilet, you know," mom said.
"He didn't even try to go to the toilet, mom!" Katie remarked. "He just
sat there and let it out! How irresponsible of him, because he's a boy! All boys
are immature and irresponsible! I think you should have kept him in diapers,
mom. In fact, I think all boys..."
"Katie," mom sighed. "I'm tired, please! Go get some pants on, Michael."
"They're all dirty, mom," I said.
"Then let's get them washed."
"I have a lot of dirty underwear, so we'll need to wash them first."
"Okay. I guess I doesn't make any difference that you're in your underwear
now, since you wear it around at bedtime."
Mom then helped me gather up my laundry. We agreed that the underwear was
in greater need of washing than anything else, so we ran it through the wash
first. By the time we got my underwear in the dryer and my pants in the wash it
was about 7:00. I expected dad to be home soon. As he was a manager at a
hardware store, it was probably extra busy because of the weather and that it
was the day after Thanksgiving, I surmised.
"Dad didn't get to leave early, did he?" I asked mom.
"No. In fact, he had to stay late. The store has been swamped with people
buying snow shovels and salt, things like that. He called and told me it would
be about 8:00 before he thinks he'll be home. He'll probably be in a grouchy
mood, and I don't want to explain to him why you're in your underwear like that,
so you might want to take it off."
I heeded mom's suggestion and "un-diapered" myself. It felt good to
relieve the pressure of the waistbands off of my stomach, but I also missed the
padded feeling I was enjoying from wearing them. As I had Billy's diaper pants,
I put them on when I went to bed that evening after dinner, which mom didn't
have ready until dad finally got home at 8:30.
Before going to bed, I completed one more chapter in today's story. I
wished I could have ended it differently, with mom consenting, perhaps insisting
that I wear my underwear the way Katie made me wear it earlier. At least I could
write it that way in the embellished version.
I was also recovering from my diarrhea by the time I went to bed. As mom
and dad were both home, I felt that I had better use the toilet, even though I
would have much rather done it in the diaper pants or in several pairs of
underwear. "What a naughty little boy I am," I thought as I lay there and
enjoyed this thought and acted on it before going to sleep.
I had plenty to write about after having a bout of diarrhea over
Thanksgiving weekend. The "true" version of the story was good enough to write
about, but the "fantasy" version took this event and carried into areas that I
could only dream about.
In reality, my diarrhea went away by Saturday. I was back to wearing
regular underwear and using the toilet in the day, which required a great deal
of restraint on my part since I wanted to be in diapers so badly. At least I had
Billy's special underpants to wear at night.
In fantasy, I got carried away in my story writing with a couple of things
that I could never imagine actually happening to me. Over the next week or so I
wrote a story that was based on what I wished could have happened after mom got
home on that particular Friday following Thanksgiving. Here's what I wrote where
fantasy traded places with reality:
Mom asked me why I was wearing my underwear the way I was. I told her that
Katie told me that I needed to wear it this way for my diarrhea since I was
acting too irresponsible to handle it properly. Mom agreed that this was the
only way to teach me a lesson about responsibility.
Mom told me to keep the underwear on until I pooped in them enough to soak
through every pair I was wearing. By this time my runny poop was leaking out of
the legbands. Brown, unsightly streaks ran down my legs, tapering off into
vertical bands of dried fecal matter along my insides of my thighs. I smelled
all over. Katie wouldn't even come near me as I was such a reeking mess. My
entire rear end was marked by a large brown spot penetrating the thick layering
of formerly snowy white cloth pulled tightly over my rump.
As I was subjected to this treatment as a punishment, it was enforced by
having mom and Katie insert safety pins into the waistbands of my underwear and
fastening them to my shirt, which made it very difficult for me to take the
underwear off. I was due to remove the underwear a long time ago and would have
done so if it weren't for three dozen or so safety pins, most of them in the
rear, permanently holding my underwear up high over my waist.
Because my mess was now seeping through past the outermost layer of my
underpants, I was forced to sit on a plastic sheet and was not to move off of
it. By this time I also peed several times, so the front of my underwear was
entirely soaked and stained yellow. When mom saw how much damage I had done to
my underwear, she took me into the bathroom and told me to stand in the bathtub
so when my poop- soaked briefs dropped the mess could easily be cleaned up. My
underwear at this point was too soiled to bother washing, so mom said they were
going in the garbage and would be replaced with something more appropriate.
Mom asked me if I had learned my lesson. Defiantly, I told her that I did
not and wanted to wear diapers from now on. Mom must have expected this response
as she was prepared to act upon it accordingly. She finished cleaning me up
first and ran the shower water over my bottom. She dragged me into my room naked
and presented me before Katie, who was standing in there next to my bed. On top
of my bed were several stacks of diapers. Katie had a smirk on her face,
communicating her amusement over the situation. She told me to park my butt on
the thick stack of diapers that she laid out.
I asked mom why Katie was brought into this. She didn't answer and told me
to shut up and do as my big sister told me. I sat down on the diapers where
Katie proceeded to put them on me. They went so high on me, wrapping everything
up from my crotch to my stomach. I don't know how many layers thick Katie put
them on me, but they made my multiple underpants seem quite thin by comparison.
After Katie put the last of several pins into the diapers she had me sit up. I
looked down at my crotch and saw a huge bulging mass of white cotton.
Before I was let go, Katie got out a pair of plastic pants. They were so
big! The crotch had to have been a foot wide! Katie put them on me, sliding them
up as far as they could go until they were tightly pressed against the diapers
underneath. I didn't realize my diapers were so bulky and big until I saw how
they filled out those huge plastic pants with little room for anything else.
In the same way that safety pins were used to ensure that I kept my
underwear on, Katie and mom inserted several safety pins into the waistband of
my plastic pants and fastened each one to my shirt. Mom told me that THESE
DIAPERS DO NOT COME OFF UNTIL KATIE OR I TAKE THEM OFF! It was made very clear
to me not to attempt removing them. They could withstand a lot of wetting and
messing, so I shouldn't expect to get changed for a long time.
I was then let go to play. At first I just sat there and watched mom and
Katie cart off the clothes I didn't need anymore, namely my remaining
underpants, and my jeans. I was told that I was going to be in diapers like this
every single day from now on. I was also told that I would be sent to a special
school where other kids like me also attended it. They, too, came to school in
just diapers and were changed by a staff of nurses.
Back to reality. This was as far as I had gotten with the story where I
dealt with how I would attend school in just diapers. I realized that some of
the elements of the story were far-fetched, but hey, this was fantasy after all.
I didn't think that there was such a school that specially handled kids who were
put into diapers, for one thing. I also couldn't imagine my mom taking away my
pants and my underwear, or even making me wear diapers and subjecting me to such
enforcement of it in the first place. She may have tried it when I was nine
years old, but since I was twelve now, I was "old enough to know better," as my
mom would say.
I also had to make some changes to the setting in the story. I placed
myself and my family in a year-round warm climate, such as Florida or southern
California. This would make it possible for me to remain in diapers all the
time, inside or outside.
At this point I stopped writing so that I could gather up some ideas for
its continuation. I also wanted to enjoy the fruits of my labor and have a
chance to read it over and seek ways to improve it. As I read it in bed I became
very excited over imagining myself in the story going through the treatment that
I vicariously placed myself in. I could only read a few paragraphs before the
resulting urges became too intense to ignore. I knew it was a good story if it
had such a powerful effect on my feelings the way this one did.
MICHAEL'S DIAPER STORIES: PART 7
--------------------------------
Christmas morning came too fast. It seemed like only yesterday that it was
Thanksgiving. It was only yesterday that I had diarrhea and made such an
incredible mess of my underwear. After that incident I thought about faking it a
couple of times so I could at least get away with wearing my underwear in
multiples as Katie made me do, but I didn't want anyone to get suspicious and
find out that I was wanting to wearing extra underwear like a diaper just for my
own gratification.
Not since then had I gotten the shits had I any valid reason to keep
myself padded, other than because I just liked to be diapered, whether it be
with several pairs of underwear, with Billy's absorbent underwear, or with
actual diapers, complete with safety pins, plastic pants, and the satisfaction
of feeling like a naughty little boy who refuses to grow up.
The best I could do to engage in my little boy play was to limit it to
when I was in bed and when Katie was out of the house visiting her friend Vicki.
Those were my best times for working on my stories. I had written down several
story ideas and planned to work on them as soon as I finished some of the other
stories in the works.
After we opened most of the presents, Mom and Dad brought out three more
large boxes. My mind drifted into diaper fantasies for a moment when I looked at
them and envisioned them as being full of diapers, all for me! Maybe my next
story could be about getting diapers for Christmas, I mused for a moment.
I had a good idea what was in the packages, and the anticipation excited
me as much as if they were diapers. They were too heavy to be diapers, anyway,
even if they were packed as tightly as possible with nothing but diapers. I was
given one package, and Katie was given the other. We both opened them at the
same time and found that Mom and Dad got us a computer for Christmas! I had the
box that contained the CPU, the keyboard, the mouse, et cetera, and Katie got
the monitor. Dad opened the third box which contained the printer, and Mom the
fourth, which contained a mouse pad, surge protector, floppy disks and a couple
of CD- ROM games.
After we ate dinner and the relatives had left, Dad and I worked on
setting up the computer. I called Billy over to help since he knew enough about
his own computer to assist us if needed. Within minutes it was set up on a table
in the spare bedroom until the desk that was ordered would arrive tomorrow.
Billy also told me that they were going to get their computer upgraded as
a Christmas present so they could get on the Internet. When he mentioned it I
asked Dad about whether or not I could get on the Internet.
"We'll see," Dad said, though it sounded like he was leaning towards
saying "no" to the idea. "Your mother and I will talk it over."
Dad stood and watched as Billy and I played one of the games we were
given. Katie was given some time to look it over and try out some of the
programs. Mom and Dad watched over us as we tried out the new family toy.
I really looked forward to using the computer to type all of my diaper
stories. I had so many story ideas and story drafts written down in a spiral
notebook. Nearly every page was a mess with several sentences and paragraphs
scribbled out and re-written. The margins were full of notes written just big
enough to read. I knew that having a word processor available would eliminate
expending this initial effort and allow me to get more of my stories written,
each one neatly formatted and printed.
I wanted to work on one of my stories right away, but I didn't get a
chance to get back to using the computer before it was time for me to go to bed.
As I lay in bed I thought about getting up and sneaking into the computer room
after everyone was in bed and hopefully asleep.
Fortunately I didn't have to wait too long tonight as Mom and Dad were
usually exhausted by day's end on Christmas. It was about midnight when I got up
and grabbed my spiral notebook from underneath my bed. I then tip-toed out into
the hallway and hoped that Mom and Dad wouldn't hear me walking. I was wearing
Billy's underpants, of course, the extra-thick ones with the plastic liner on
the outside. As the house was completely silent, I heard the plastic crinkle
with each slow step. I decided to wait until the furnace kicked on, which would
make enough noise to obscure the sound of the diaper pants as I walked gingerly
to the computer room. On my way there I turned the thermostat up just to keep
the furnace running longer so it would drown out any noises made by the plastic
pants or any other possible source. It didn't help matters that I had the farts
at that time, too. It must have been from Aunt Martha's bean casserole I ate
during Christmas dinner.
I made it to the computer room safely! I felt so victorious! I closed the
door, and very slowly as it squeaked. I walked over to the computer and turned
it on. I sat there and watched the system start, excited to get one of my
stories typed. Suddenly the speakers emanated a loud noise. I forgot that it
made a sound after it started up!
"Shit!" I thought to myself as I quickly reached for the volume knob on
the speaker and turned it down. I immediately switched the system off and sat
silently to listen for someone to come down the hall in the event they were
awakened by the noise. After three or four minutes I decided that it was safe to
resume my late-night story- writing session. With the speakers turned down all
the way, the system started back up without a peep.
I went straight into the word processor and began my work. Having only the
light that came off of the monitor to work with, I looked at my written
manuscript and tried to make out what I had written. Even at its full intensity,
the monitor was not bright enough to allow me to easily read my work. It was,
however, bright enough that someone could see its glow underneath the door if
they walked by.
Since I had a pretty good idea of how my story went, I decided to set
aside my spiral notebook and type it from memory. I also turned the screen's
brightness down to just enough to allow me to see the keys in front of me (I was
a hunt-and-peck typist). I had to press the keys lightly to minimize the clicks
they made as I pressed them. Progress was slow at best.
I tried to get as much done as I could during the "on" cycles of the
furnace, which allowed me to type more speedily. When the air shut off, the
house suddenly became silent except for the hum of the computer, and a rather
noisily-delivered fart that penetrated the thick padding between my bottom and
the chair.
"I sure hope nobody heard that!" I thought. I continued to type, recalling
the story the best I could. At times I had to pick up my written version and
turn the monitor's brightness up just long enough to read what I had written.
It took awhile to get the first page completed. I figured that I could
have gotten much more written had I not been so cautiously trying to avoid
getting caught being out of bed. I started to have second thoughts about getting
up after everyone was asleep to work on my stories, though it was the only time
I could really count on having the privacy I needed. I couldn't work on them
during the day as Mom or Katie would probably see me working on them then.
It would be bad enough I were caught on the computer late at night playing
Solitaire or something like that. This was a *diaper story* that I was writing!
I could tell my parents or Katie that it was homework if I were ever caught, but
they'd know damn well I wouldn't choose to get up in the middle of the night to
do school assignments, especially now, during Christmas break!
It was past 1:00 AM according to the clock on the computer. I knew that
sooner or later someone would get up to get a drink of water or go to the
bathroom. Speaking of going to the bathroom, I had to pee, and I wasn't about to
leave the computer room and wake someone while walking towards the bathroom in
Billy's diaper pants. This would have defeated the purpose of wearing them!
As I thought about this, I felt myself getting excited underneath the
diapers. I went back to the top of the text and read over my story again, at
least what had been written. I started peeing into the diaper and soaking it up
quite heavily. The wet, nasty sensation of wearing a soaked diaper was so great
that I could no longer resist my urges, so I continued to indulge in myself
while reading my own story.
As the story that I was writing mostly discussed pooping, I tried to shit
in the diaper, too, but all I produced was another loud, stinky fart. The smell
at least helped to create an ambiance that was suggestive of pooping in the
diaper. It was enough to make me feel so naughty. I leaned back in the chair and
massaged myself until I achieved my goal. I was now sweating, which was partly
because the room was so warm now from the thermostat being turned up.
Just as I was about to save the file and shut the computer down for the
night, I heard the door open.
"Oh, shit!" I thought with my chest pounding at a rate of at least 120
beats a minute. I didn't have any time to anticipate who it would be or what to
say.
It turned out to be Katie, which was better than having Mom or Dad catch
me. Very quickly, I saved the file and just typed one letter for the filename,
whichever key I happened to press; it didn't matter at this moment. I then
started up Solitaire just so Katie wouldn't see what I was really doing on the
computer.
"Michael! Why are you up so late?" she shouted. "I heard you making all
kinds of noise in here! And *phew*, it stinks!" "I was just playing Solitaire,"
I said. "I couldn't sleep."
"It looked like you were writing something when I came in."
"It was, it was...something private! That's why I got up now to write it!"
"Hmm, I see," Katie said. "Is that what you were making all that noise
for?"
I couldn't say anything.
"And why is it so warm in here?" Katie asked me. "Did you turn the heat up
again?"
"Yeah, I was cold."
"Because you're in your underwear! If you wore pajamas like me you
wouldn't get so cold."
Katie took a closer look at me and detected that I was not in just my
regular underwear.
"What are you wearing?" she asked.
"Underwear," I said.
"It looks bigger and thicker."
"I got the runs again," I said, "so...I put a few more pairs on." It was a
white lie-- almost literally, but it was the only plausible thing I could come
up with to explain the extra layering I was wearing. I felt very nervous now. I
was so close to getting caught in Billy's underpants. Had the monitor been
turned up any brighter Katie would have probably detected the shine of the
plastic outer layer.
"I can see that I have started something with you," Katie said. "Just stay
that way from now on and we'll save toilet paper that way," she joked.
"You'd better get to bed before Mom or Dad wake up," Katie told me. As
Katie patted me on my bare thigh and said goodnight, her hand just missed
brushing the legband of the underpants by a quarter of an inch! She would have
otherwise most likely felt the plastic layer and questioned me about wearing
such an undergarment.
I shut the computer down and went back to bed, leaving behind my spiral
notebook, which I didn't realize I had done until after I had gotten up again
the next morning. I did, however, remember to turn the thermostat back down as I
surely would have been confronted about it by Mom or Dad. I sat up and felt the
dampness that I deposited in the underpants from much earlier this morning when
I was burning the midnight oil.
Suddenly it clicked that I had forgotten to bring my spiral notebook back
with me! I rose up from my bed and yanked the wet underpants off, stashing them
underneath my bed. I put on a pair of regular white briefs and ran into the
computer room to get my notebook. Katie was already in there playing a game.
"Good morning," she said, sitting there in her pink pajamas she got for
Christmas.
"Hi," I said, quickly fetching my spiral notebook off of the table, hoping
and praying that Katie hadn't looked at it already.
I tossed the spiral notebook underneath the bed and went out to the
kitchen to make some hot chocolate with a bowl of cereal for breakfast. As I
stood there stirring the hot chocolate I heard Katie come up behind me. She
grabbed my underwear and yanked it up into my butt, giving me a wedgie.
"What's this?" she asked.
"It's a wedgie, now stop it!" , I snapped at her.
"Maybe if you wore something besides your underwear then I wouldn't do it!
Ha ha!"
She then grabbed my waistband and yanked it down out of my crack and then
farther, fully exposing my buttocks.
"I wouldn't do this, either!" she said.
"Katie! Don't do that, I said!"
"Say, why are you just wearing one pair now?" she asked as she pulled at
the waistband and let it snap crisply onto my skin. "Didn't you say you had the
shits last night-- the runs, whatever-- and you put on several more pairs?"
"Uh...I'm feeling better now," I said.
"You got over it that quick, huh? I don't think so."
"I took some Kaopectate for it," I said, realizing that my lying skills
wore sorely lacking.
"I know nothing works that fast! Besides, your butt sure looked awfully
clean when I yanked your undies down! I know you, Michael; half the time you
don't even bother to wipe because I've seen your dirty underwear! Skid-Mark
City!"
Katie seemed to have the makings of a detective, at least she was doing
well demonstrating her skills by pointing out such inconsistencies. Katie then
trotted off to the bathroom to get ready for her day while I sat down to eat my
breakfast.
Later on I called Billy and invited him to come over and spend the day
with me. He said that he was bored without his computer since it was at the shop
being upgraded. Katie had left to join Vicki and her mom for the after-Christmas
sales. Any excuse to go to the mall was fine with Katie. Mom and Dad were both
at work, so that left me to spend much of the day at home. I decided to put some
pants on as I would have felt awkward greeting Billy at the door in my
underwear.
Within fifteen minutes of calling him, Billy came over and brought some of
his games so that I could copy them onto our system. He also brought along some
of his diaper stories and let me copy them to a set of my own disks. "Don't let
Katie see these!" he warned me, shaking his finger in my face with each syllable
he spoke.
"Believe me, I won't!" I said emphatically. I then told him about my
experiences and the close calls that I had late last night.
"That would make a good diaper story right there," Billy remarked. "Let's
get started here!"
I went through the disk and saw how many stories Billy had written. I
couldn't believe he had so many stories! There were about a dozen of them just
on the first disk. I loaded some of them into the word processor and sat there
reading them and enjoying them very much. It wasn't long before I had a full
erection in my pants. "Where do you get your ideas?" I asked Billy in
astonishment.
"I think of them all the time," he said. "Sometimes it's all I ever think
about."
I complimented Billy on his prodigious repertoire of creativity and
originality. I asked him how long he was writing these stories. he said, "I
think I was seven years old when I wrote one. I had a dream about it and then I
remembered it all the next day."
I continued to sit there and read through each story as I called it up.
"Read them later, like when you go to bed," Billy suggested. "Let's print them
out now."
I selected three of the stories that looked good to me. Actually, they all
looked good, so I looked forward to getting them all printed so that I could
enjoy them just before going to bed every night. We only had so much time to do
this since there was no telling when Katie would get back from spending her day
with Vicki.
Billy and I decided to use the remaining time in the afternoon to continue
working on the story I started last night. I knew Billy would enjoy reading the
story as well as its title, "Diarrhea Diary". He looked it over and said it was
a good story, which was good to hear from someone who I regarded as an expert in
the field when it came to writing diaper stories.
He did, however, offer some suggestions to improve the story. He noted
that it lacked dialog and felt that including dialog would spice up the story.
he said, "think of all the things everybody would be saying about you in your
diapers."
I recalled some of the things Katie said to me when Mom made me wear
diapers when I was nine. I decided to include some of these recollections in my
story. I then came up with a few ideas of my own that sounded good. I thought of
the things Katie would say to me now if she saw me in diapers.
I realized that I was wasting a good opportunity to lounge around in just
diapers, so I took my pants off and wore nothing but my T-shirt and put on a
clean pair of Billy's padded underpants. Billy decided to do the same, saying
that he was more comfortable to be in just his diaper pants when nobody else was
around. Seeing each other in our diapers provided a good visual aid to working
on my story and furthered our mutual trust.
Billy did the typing while I read my story to him. After a few minutes
went by, Billy got up and took his pants off and decided to just sit in his
diapers, too. He was wearing one of his pairs with the plastic liner, just like
the ones I wore the night before. By looking at how they padded his bum while I
listened to myself reading my story to him, the urges it produced were too great
to ignore. My resistance to wanting to jack off was wearing down. Soon I was
rubbing myself through the diaper pants with one hand and holding the notebook
in the other. I held it above my lap so Billy wouldn't see what I was doing.
Still, he could detect the continuous, though subtle motions that my arm was
making, causing me to shake the notebook enough to draw more attention. Seeing
where my other hand was located, he picked up on the fact that I was playing
with myself. He looked at me to acknowledge that he was aware of what was going
on, but he didn't say anything.
I also had to poop at that time. The anticipation of going into the diaper
added to my intensifying feelings. It was just like I felt last night, feeling
so naughty to deliberately ignore the toilet and completely forget that it was
even there and that I was supposed to use it. I refused to use the toilet since
I was diapered. I was going to do what any little boy in diapers would have done
when he needed to poop.
I stayed right there in my chair and let it rip out of my butt and load
into the diaper. The air around us started to smell. Billy mentioned that he
smelled my odor quite strongly. I shifted around in the chair and felt the warm,
wet poop sticking to my butt. The wide crotch, the thick padding and the tight
fit of the diapers ensured that it was all securely contained.
After I enjoyed several minutes of sitting in my own squishy, stinky shit
and reading more of my story to Billy, I looked at the time and decided to get
cleaned up before Katie came home and caught me wearing such underpants and,
unlike last night's close call, finding them full of shit, too. I left Billy at
the computer where he continued typing the story while I got up to go change.
Before I took the messy underpants off, I had to take advantage of the
ever-intensifying feelings that I was getting from having used the diaper
underpants and replaying my story in my mind while thinking about what I looked
like and how defiant I was being to the parental and societal expectation that a
twelve-year-old boy should use a toilet.
All of these thoughts culminated to the point that I had to jack off. I
lay down on my bed and felt the gooey mass press up on my bum as I applied my
weight on it. I lifted my legs up and massaged myself through the layers on my
crotch. I felt the messy goo pull up into my butt along with the padding as I
rubbed the front of the diaper. I closed my eyes and thought of being a toddler
and having no choice but to be diapered and expected to do his doo doo in the
didy. I ran my hands up and down vigorously until my cum spewed forth and shot
into the front of the diaper. I continued to stroke and extract as much of my
boy juice as I could. I them lay there and rested, savoring the post-
ejaculation feeling. I used a lot of energy to satisfy my urges as my face was
sweating. My entire body was radiating heat as my pillow felt hot where my head
lay. My heart was still racing as I rested. After I came back down from my auto-
erotic high I switched my mind back into reality and thought that I had better
get myself cleaned up. Billy was probably wondering where I was and why I was
taking so long.
He did come into the room a few minutes later to find out what happened to
me.
"I thought you were changing all this time," Billy said as he walked into
my room and saw that I was still wearing the soiled diaper pants.
"Well I kind of got sidetracked," I said sheepishly.
"Oh," he answered, pretending not to acknowledge that he knew I was
masturbating. I finished typing that story for you. Here's the disk." "Thank
you," I said to Billy as I set the disk on top of my desk.
"I need to go home soon," Billy said. "I just took a big dump in mine,
too, and I'll need to change soon."
"Are *you* going to change or just go around all poopy- assed all day?" he
asked me.
"I'll change right now. I need to clean up before Katie--"
DING DONG!
"Dammit! Who's here?, I panicked.
"Michael, someone's at the door!" Billy shouted.
"No shit, really? Answer it for me, please!" I asked Billy.
"I have to get my pants first!"
"Well, then get them! Then answer it! Shit!"
A minute later I heard Billy shouting from the front room: "Your computer
desk is here!"
The desk! The delivery guy! Damn! I forgot he was coming today!
I was in a very difficult situation and I had to think fast. I didn't want
to take the diaper off as it was holding the mess in quite nicely. Removing it
would have made a bigger mess that I didn't have time to deal with at the
moment. I couldn't just go out there with only a diaper! I had nothing that
would fit over it, or so I thought, until I remembered that I had a pair of
loose-fitting shorts. I rummaged through my closet and found them. I slipped
them on and then walked out to the door to greet the delivery man. I knew I
still smelled bad, but at least nobody could see what was causing the smell,
though its source was obvious enough anyway.
The delivery guy looked like he was in his early twenties. He looked at me
funny, but he still had his job to do and immediately verified that our house
was the correct address and had me sign for the delivery. He then carried the
large, flat box into the computer room. As I followed him in I saw that the
title of my story was displayed so prominently on the computer screen. There it
was, "DIARRHEA DIARY" as plain as day. The delivery man probably saw it, too,
which may have further made him wonder what was going on. Whether or not he
cared wasn't as important as the fact that he probably saw the computer screen!
Mom, Dad or Katie could have just as easily walked in and seen it! Billy
apologized for his carelessness and promised to be more cautious about these
things. When the delivery man left Billy printed the story for me while I went
back to my room to try changing again.
I knew my time was running out, so I didn't waste a second getting the
filthy undergarments off of my butt. I was far too messy to clean up without
going into the shower. Quickly I bolted for the bathroom and turned the water
on. I hurriedly sprayed the water over my bum and watched the large clumps of
excess poop drop from my buttocks to the bottom of the tub. I had to use my bare
hands to wipe the rest of it out. I had to admit this was a pretty gross thing
to do.
After I let the last of the dirty water to drain out I quickly leaped out
of the shower. I thought I was doing good at beating Katie, but it was only by a
few seconds that I was placed in a predicament again.
Before I opened the bathroom door I heard Katie coming into the house! I
was in so much of a hurry to get into the bathroom that I didn't even bring
anything with me to wear back to my bedroom! I had to make a quick dash to my
bedroom without any clothes on. I looked out into the hallway and made sure
nobody was coming. I then fled straight for my room and closed the door.
Seconds later I heard the bathroom door close. I knew it wasn't Billy
using it, so it had to be Katie. The fun was over for now, so I put on some
regular underpants and some jeans. I threw the soiled diaper pants in with the
rest of my laundry to get them washed later.
Katie then hollered at me. "Michael!"
She must have known something had happened as she went into the bathroom.
She then came to my bedroom door. I threw the last of my laundry in the basket
on top of the soiled briefs before letting her in.
"Why can't you go to the bathroom like the rest of us!" she said to me.
"You just used the shower and the bathroom stinks to high heaven! Man, it smells
even worse in here!"
I lied and "admitted" to having an accident, but Katie wasn't buying it.
"Okay, so I had an accident!" I said firmly and defensively.
"I don't think so, Michael. You just like shitting in your pants! Typical,
irresponsible and immature BOY!"
"It was an accident, Katie! It's none of your business anyway!"
"It is, too my business, Mikey! I'm your big sister, you know!" I resented
it when Katie called me "Mikey," and she only did it to spite me, just like when
she claimed to have authority over me because she was my big sister.
"I couldn't help it, Katie! I'll clean it up!"
"You do that, but I also think you should do what we did last time this
incident occurred."
Katie was serious now. She went to my underwear drawer and grabbed as many
clean pairs as she could.
"You know what to do, Michael! Pad that butt of yours up now! Let's see
how long you can stand wearing them!"
I was more embarrassed than excited from the way Katie was treating me,
especially since I knew Billy was in the other room and he could hear everything
that was going on. Even if I wasn't so willing to cooperate with Katie's method
of "diapering" me, I felt like I had better comply with her wishes.
She stood at the door and watched me put on each pair until I was in about
18 pairs or more.
"You don't seem to mind this, Michael," Katie said. "Maybe it's because I
might know more about you than you want me to know."
I wasn't sure what she meant by this. Before I could ask her if she went
through any of my stuff Billy came into the room.
"Hi Billy," my sister said. "Michael's in trouble, as you can see, so
you'll need to go home."
I resented the way Katie just kicked him out of the house the way she did,
even though Billy was just heading out anyway. Since he had on a soiled diaper
he didn't want Katie to start teasing him about it. As Billy put his coat on he
told me to call him later.
"We should get our computer back tomorrow," he said. "Maybe you can come
over tomorrow night and check out the Internet if it's set up by then," he said
before he left.
Katie looked at me and said, "and what makes you think you're going
anywhere? When I tell Mom about your 'accident', she's probably going to ground
you!"
"No she's not," I said confidently.
"Even if she doesn't, what are you going to wear? Your pants won't fit
over your underwear, you know!"
"I'll just take my underwear off first," I said. "No, because we'll just
pin your shirt and waistbands together, just like Vicki does to her little
brother so he can't take them off! Just wait until Mom gets home!" Katie
threatened.
MICHAEL'S DIAPER STORIES: PART 8
--------------------------------
I spent the afternoon playing games on the computer, waiting for mom to
come home. I knew that today's events would make for a good diaper story to
write later on, but for now I wanted to wait and see what would happen before
proceeding with such a story. Besides, Katie was watching me closely and making
frequent checks on me to make sure I wasn't going into the bathroom for
anything, particularly to use the toilet. She wanted to see if I would actually
try using my underpants instead of the toilet; otherwise, she would have taken
safety pins, just as she suggested she'd do, and use them to fasten my
waistbands and my shirt together. I got the idea from when Katie mentioned that
Vicki's mom did this to her brother so that he couldn't take his underwear off
and was therefore forced to pee and poop into it.
Another hour had passed before mom came home. I heard her pull in and
anticipated hearing her walk through the door. As mom entered the house I paused
my computer game and went out to the front room. Before I had a chance to
explain to Mom that Katie was making me wear several pairs of underpants again,
like a diaper, Katie shot out from her bedroom ahead of me and told mom what she
suspected was going on.
"I caught him again!" she said first thing as mom walked into the room.
"He was pooping in his underwear, being an irresponsible and immature little
brat! What are you going to do this time?"
"Katie!" mom huffed. "I just came through the door! Give me a minute!"
Katie backed away from mom and displayed this "well, excuse me!" look on
her face. Mom set her purse down and hung up her coat. She then turned to me and
sternly stared me in the eyes.
"What's going on, Michael?" mom confronted me. "Do you do this every time
you get the runs?"
"I had an accident again!" I defended myself.
"Liar! Liar, liar pants-- uh, underwear on fire!" Katie taunted. "He
doesn't have the runs, either, mom! He's pooping in his underwear ON PURPOSE!"
By that time I had a guilty look on my face and mom could tell that I was
lying when I said that it was an accident.
"I have a feeling that Katie's right, Michael," mom said. "You look
awfully guilty, Michael!"
Mom then asked me to confess. She was very forward and to the point.
"Did you really have an accident, Michael?"
My head was hung low. All I could say was "no."
"That's what I thought. Now go to your room."
I just stood there for a moment in total shame.
"Now! Get your butt moving, young man!"
Fearing that I would get further punishment, I marched off to my room. I
didn't expect mom to be following behind me, but she was right on my tail.
"I want to see your dirty underwear," mom said as she came into my room
with me, closing my door behind her.
She stood there and watched me reach into my hamper where I stashed the
underwear that I had soiled. I was especially nervous to present them to mom as
they were not even my own underpants, but some of the extra thick pairs that I
got from Billy. Just as I expected, mom was surprised to see that I had these.
I held it up to her. The entire seat was covered with a thick layer of
poop. The odor was very strong and difficult to tolerate.
"Where in the world did you get *those?*"
"I got them from Billy," I said. "He has to wear them."
"Do you? Do you have to wear them, too?"
I paused for a moment. "No, I just..."
"You just like pooping in your underwear, is that what you're trying to
tell me, Michael?"
Mom had more or less spoken the very words I wished I could have said to
her, but couldn't. I told her "yes" to agree to her supposition.
"Go over to your bed and bend over," mom told me.
No! She wasn't going to spank me! I was twelve now! The last time I got a
spanking for anything was almost a year ago, and even then I felt I was too old
to be spanked. I was afraid of what I was about to get and I didn't want to go
over to the bed. Mom wasn't very patient with me at this point. She grabbed my
wrist and dragged me over to the bed.
"Now bend over!" she shouted.
I got into position and braced for the worst. I felt mom grab the
waistbands and pull my underpants down just enough to expose my bare bottom. She
had to pull them down in four different sets as the whole bunch was too tight
and difficult for her to pull down at once. I felt the draft blowing in on my
sweaty, exposed buttocks. My underwear, all eighteen pairs of it, was bunched up
between my knees with the waistbands tightly tugging inward on my thighs.
The second worst part of a spanking seemed to be that initial swat that
"broke you in" and prepared you for subsequent swats. I grimaced as I repeated
one thought in my mind: "don't cry, you're twelve years old."
Mom held her opened hand far back and swiftly swung it back towards my
bottom, her hand traveling along the arc of its 90-degree course. The first swat
came with a mighty, sharp smack. It hurt just as bad as I remembered it hurting
from the last time I was spanked. I tried with all my might not to display any
emotion or cries of pain. "Don't cry!" I said to myself.
The worst part of a spanking was the subsequent swats that only
intensified the sting of the previous swats. Mom delivered a second, then a
third swat, all to my left buttock so far. I was keeping a stiff upper lip and
trying stoically to endure the increasing pain. Mom could see that her spanking
was ineffective on me so far, so she started swatting even harder, randomly
striking each buttock with full force.
My resistance to showing any signs of pain had broken down and I was
crying just like a three-year-old. "Oww, mom! Stop!" I screamed with tears
rolling down my face. "Please! Stop! Mom!" Nothing I said could make mom stop to
think about how much pain she was making me suffer right now.
Unable to withstand it anymore, I quickly moved up on the bed and turned
my body around to get my reddened bottom out of the way from the next stinging
slap.
"Don't you move away like that!" mom shouted.
Mom grabbed me and pulled me off of the bed. Having my bottom rubbing
against the coarse fabric of my bedspread made it hurt even more than it already
did. She forced me back into my spanking position and continued to strike me
mercilessly. I lost count how many times mom swatted my butt, but it must have
been fifty; it felt like five hundred by the time it was over.
Mom stopped at that point and decided that I had enough. I was still bent
over, fearing that if I moved again I would get more spanking. I was in too much
pain and afraid to attempt anything, so I just stayed there and sobbed. My tears
were dripping down on the bedspread, leaving a wet spot on the bed below me. I
rubbed my sore bottom in a futile attempt to alleviate the swelling, radiating
pain.
I felt mom reach down to my underpants to pull them back up. She moved my
hands out of the way as she pulled them back up in the same sets in which they
had been pulled down. She pulled them up into my rear as high as they would go.
I became confused and wondered why mom was putting them back on me when this was
what I got in trouble for in the first place.
"Why are you pulling them up again?" I asked mom, still sobbing and
smarting from the spanking.
"Maybe this is what is best for you right now! We'll see how long you can
stand sitting in your poopy underpants!"
Mom pulled up the last few pairs and let them snap down on my back.
"These underpants will stay up until I decide they can come down again!"
mom issued her order sternly.
"I don't want to see you taking them off, and I'd better not catch you
going into the bathroom! Just think of these as your diapers!"
Now I really felt guilty and riddled with reproach. I was still working
the last of my crying out of my system.
"I'm sorry, mom," I said, rubbing my eyes.
"I can't have a twelve-year-old boy acting like this!" mom shouted in my
face. "I thought you were too old to spank! Dammit, Michael, you're TWELVE now!
You need some time to think about this, young man!" Mom then slammed my bedroom
door and told me not to come out until I was called for supper.
I went over to my desk and lay my head down on it. Tears were still
dripping off of my eyes onto it s surface. I spent the time thinking about the
trouble I was getting into, just as mom intended me to do.
I pondered a number of things. I thought back to the time when I tried on
my cousin Luke's diapers and got caught-- twice. The second time was when mom
made me wear them for two weeks to make me think about what I was doing. The
guilt that mom forced me into momentarily caused me to stop wanting to wear
them. In spite of the negative reinforcement, my urges to wear diapers came
back, and once I met Billy and got a hold of his special underpants, I was right
back to square one. I was the once again the Michael that I was destined to
become, an insatiable diaper-lover.
The other influences I encountered only intensified my feelings about
diapers. Billy wrote all his stories and inspired me to do the same. I had
diarrhea after Thanksgiving and then got put into several pairs of underpants to
serve as a diaper as suggested by Katie, who felt that she was forcing me into
them. I was quite cooperative with her for being "forced". As my sister, I would
otherwise never submit to any of Katie's attempts to control me, though I had to
admit that she was quite intimidating when she wanted to be.
Today's incident made me think about why I was inclined to such behavior.
"It feels good," I thought, recognizing that my sexual feelings were the main
driving force behind my behavior. "A back rub feels good, too," I reasoned,
though a back rub did not have a lot of emotional feelings attached to it, nor
was the good feeling it produced nearly as intense.
I gave a lot of thought to my stories. My stories were substantial proof
that I had a lot of emotions and ideas associated with wearing diapers and was
easily stimulated by them. There was a reciprocal relationship between writing
my stories about wearing diapers, and vicariously playing my stories out while
actually wearing the diapers. My desire to wear diapers fed my stories and my
stories fed my desires to wear diapers.
My biggest fear was that my diaper stories may get me into even more
trouble. It was bad enough that mom spanked me so hard after I confessed to her
that I was pooping in my underwear for the sheer sensual joy of it. My stories
held every thought I had conceived thus far about my urge to wear diapers. If
anyone were to find them, my deepest, most intimate feelings would be exposed. I
could hardly imagine how this would be received and dealt with by my family.
I ran back to my bed and reached under it to grab my notebook. I had to
keep it hidden for fear that it would fall into the wrong hands. I thought about
throwing it out, but the thought was short-lived and I quickly perished it. I
knew damn well I would want my stories back right away and would regret
disposing of what represented the boy I really was. No amount of guilt was
enough to force me to consider averting possible punishment over something I
enjoyed. I decided to set my notebook up on the top shelf off my closet
underneath a stack of assorted papers. This would still make it easy to get to,
but keep it out of anyone's immediate sight.
I returned to my desk where I continued to sit and think. My mind was
focused on one thing now, though the lingering pain on my backside was
distracting. I looked at myself and could not deny the fact that I would want to
wear diapers, no matter what anyone tried to do to change it.
I got out a piece of paper and wrote out these thoughts. It aided me in
evaluating the pros and cons of my developing diaper fetish. I asked myself what
was wrong with what I was doing? I questioned why someone could not wear diapers
if they chose to or if they had a deeper, psychological drive to wear diapers. I
wasn't drinking or doing drugs or smoking pot, or even cigarettes. I knew of
several kids my age that did these things. I was a good boy, just that I wanted
to wear diapers. Soon, this evaluation of my thoughts on wearing diapers was
becoming a story of its own and would most likely be typed and included in the
notebook.
Katie suddenly barged into my room without knocking. I quickly covered up
the paper I was writing so Katie wouldn't see it.
"What'cha writing?" she asked me.
"Nothing, now get out!" I yelled.
Katie just stood there and held out her hand to show me several large
safety pins she was holding.
"Mom said I could pin you up so you couldn't take your underwear off! Mom
thought it was a good idea when I told her that Vicki's mom does this to her
brother!"
I just sat there and stared into her eyes.
"If you don't cooperate, mom will come in here and she'll spank you
again!"
I knew that Katie would holler for mom if I sat in my chair any longer. I
grabbed the paper I was writing on and stuffed it into a drawer with a bunch of
other papers just to get it away from Katie's view.
She told me to stand up and tuck my shirt inside of my underpants, between
the innermost pair and my skin. She then told me to bend over. She got behind me
and pulled up on the top few pairs of my briefs. She pulled back on the
waistbands and stuck the first pin into as many of them as she could fit onto
the pin. She then stuck the short, remaining length of the pin into my shirt and
then closed it, thereby completing the first of several more pins that she
proceeded to use for fastening my underpants and my shirt together. She placed
six of them along my rear, two on each side of me, and four in the front. I
stood upright as she knelt down at my waist and worked each pin into my
underpants. She seemed to be satisfied with what she was doing as she was
smiling the whole time.
"There! Just *try* to take those off!" she said as she stood before me and
examined the tight grip of each pin that she stuck into my underpants.
"Dad also called and said he was running late, but mom will have dinner
ready," she said as she left.
At least one of the themes I expounded upon in one of my stories had just
come true. Just as I had written in a similar story, I had safety pins used on
me to prevent me from taking my underwear off. I went right back to my closet
and pulled the notebook down to read the story that I was thinking about. I went
over to my bed and lay on my back as I read it. I felt myself becoming erect as
I lay there. I kept looking away from the story and looking down at my
underpants, seeing how Katie inserted the pins along the front into the first
six waistbands. I looked at the bold single stripe of the topmost pair as it cut
a contrasting swath of red through the white elastic that was stretched across
my stomach. The waistband beneath it was sticking up above it in places, showing
its pattern of two blue stripes. Below that I saw the rest of the waistbands
layered atop one another.
My front was bulging out from the extra layer of fabric in each fly front.
I ran my hands over the thick, soft padding, thinking that I was wearing a real
diaper. Each pair I had on spanned my crotch with its wide strip of cotton
fabric. Multiplied by eighteen, this made for a very thick, diaper-like feeling.
I lifted up my legs and rubbed my rear end. My underwear was so tightly and
smoothly stretched over my bottom. Everything felt so good now, everything
except for my tender skin beneath the layers of fabric.
Before I could finish reading my story I set it down and concentrated on
exploring the feel of my underpants surrounding me so thickly and prominently.
As I recited several stimulating thoughts, I thought of what I was wearing as a
"diaper." This sounded better to me than "underpants," though I was also
developing a fondness towards wearing several pairs of underpants. I still
preferred to call it a diaper.
After I achieved ejaculation I let myself relax. I was sweating all over,
particularly on my forehead and inside of my "diaper". I ran my finger
underneath the legbands and felt sweaty moisture on my skin.
A few minutes later I heard dad come home. He usually wasn't in a very
good mood when he couldn't leave from the store on time. He was an hour late
tonight. I expected him to be a real grouch. He slammed the door as he entered
the house, so I knew already he wasn't very cheerful.
He didn't even know about what happened to me today, unless mom had called
him at work and told him about it, and I doubted this as dad was too busy at his
job to be bothered, especially to be told that his son pooped his pants. He
found out soon enough as I heard him hollering about it out in the front room. I
couldn't hear everything he was saying, but I picked out enough key words to
know that he was talking about me.
I heard him march down the hall to my room. He was ready to whack my
behind, I feared, and that was the last thing I needed. My butt was still
stinging from mom's spanking. Dad spanked harder, and sometimes he used his
belt. I was scared and ran into my closet to hide.
"Michael!" dad shouted as he threw my door open.
"Get your butt out here now!" he demanded.
I cringed as I curled into a ball in the back corner of my closet. Dad
walked straight over to the closet and found me crouched beneath my shirts
hanging on the rod above it.
He grabbed my arm and dragged me out.
"Get out of there!" he yelled as he gripped tightly on my wrist.
I stood before him, wearing just a shirt and eighteen pairs of underpants
all joined to my shirt by fourteen safety pins. Dad looked at me in the eyes.
His face was red.
"What the hell has gotten into you, son?"
I couldn't talk. I was frozen stiff and morbidly fearful of what he was
about to do. I felt like I was going to pass out as I was so scared.
"Well?! Have you nothing to say!"
I stood silent. I was hyperventilating, trying to think of a way to beg
dad not to spank me. I had to think quickly because he dragged me over to my bed
again.
He started to pull my underpants down until he saw that I had safety pins
stuck in my underwear.
"What the hell's THIS?!" dad shouted. "Why are these pins in your
underwear?!"
"Mom had Katie put them in so I couldn't take it off," I said, ready to
break into tears.
He pulled on the waistband, but it wouldn't go anywhere. I felt my shirt
pulling tightly against my neck. Dad was mad enough to rip my shirt off of me
and then spank me once he got my underwear off, but he didn't get this far. My
body was trembling. I was in an extremely nervous state. I wanted to pass out
just so dad wouldn't be as inclined to spank me after seeing me lie unconscious
on the floor.
The only thing that saved me from another intense spanking was the fact
that I had the pins in my underwear. Dad gave up trying to get my underpants
down. He said, "you're damn lucky you've got those pins in there, because you'd
get a hell of a whipping if I could get those underpants off!"
Dad then left the room, slamming my door behind him. He was ready to
explode. I heard him go out the back door and slam it hard. I figured he was
headed for his workshop where he kept a punching bag for times when he was as
pissed off as he was.
Fifteen minutes later, mom came to my door and told me to come out and sit
at the dinner table. Dad had come back in the house and changed out of his work
clothes.
I watched mom get the last of the dinner prepared as I sat there, hoping
that dad would be calmed down by the time he took his chair at the table.
"I'm sorry about everything," I said to mom.
"We'll talk about it before you go to bed," mom said. "Don't bring it up
during dinner; your father had a bad day at work," she warned.
Dinner went by as it usually did, though very little was said among any of
us. We just ate what was on our plates and then set our dishes in the sink. It
was one of the quickest dinners we had in a long time, and not the best, either,
as it had been sitting on the stove ready while waiting for dad to get home.
Later on I was called into the living room and confronted by mom and dad.
Katie also chose to be present. I sat on the floor with my legs open and let my
bulging "diaper" stick out quite visibly. As the layering of the crotches atop
one another was uneven and skewed, this made the number of individual pairs I
was wearing even more apparent.
Mom started and asked me very bluntly, "why do you do this, Michael? Why?"
I wasn't prepared to talk. I knew why I did it, but talking about my
sexuality, especially as aberrant as it may have been, was not a topic I could
ever discuss in front of my parents.
"You've behaved like this before, you know," mom continued. "I'm sure you
remember trying on your cousin Luke's diapers. I thought it was just a phase you
may have been going through then. Maybe you'll never outgrow this."
Dad then spoke up.
"I'm really disappointed in you, son," he said. "You're twelve years old!
The guys at work have boys younger than you who act like grown men! What do I
tell them when they ask how my kids are doing? I'd be ashamed to tell them the
truth, that is, the truth about you, Michael!"
Dad sat there with his head down, shaking it back and forth.
"I don't know...I just don't know...I don't understand. I thought you were
ready to grow up, but I guess you're not."
Dad then got up from his chair and went out to his shop. Mom continued to
lecture me and hand down to me my punishment.
"You are grounded until the end of Christmas break. You will stay home,
which I'm sure you will as you will not be wearing anything but your underpants,
just like you're wearing them now. You are not to use the toilet and you are not
to take off your underpants until Katie or I take the pins out, and don't ask us
to do it. We'll do it when we think you're due for a change. Now go to bed."
"It's only 9:30," I argued. "I want to play some games!"
"Go to bed! I'll take those pins out, pull those underpants down and spank
you again!"
I couldn't take another wallop on my backside like the one I got earlier,
so I compliantly trotted off to my room and got into bed. I lay there for a long
time, unable to sleep. Every time I rolled around, my shirt tugged on my
shoulders as my underpants pulled down on it.
After everyone was asleep I got up and walked over to my desk and
retrieved the story I started writing earlier. I grabbed the wrinkled, crumpled
paper out of my desk drawer and took it back to bed with me. I grabbed my lamp
from my night stand and set it underneath the covers of my bed, where I had to
work so that I had light, but yet so that nobody would detect that I was awake.
It was confining and uncomfortable with the covers over my head, leaving me
little room to work. It was hot under there, too, and after a couple minutes I
smelled something burning! The light bulb on my lamp was too hot and it left a
brown spot on my sheet from being pressed up against the light bulb.
I shut the lamp off and returned it to my night stand. I waited for the
furnace to kick on so that nobody could hear me sneak out to the kitchen to get
a flashlight. Having completed this mission successfully, I returned to my bed
and worked in the dimmer, though adequate-- and safer-- glow of the flashlight
to finish my story.
As I lay there and read my story, I concentrated on the feel and the look
of my thick, bulging underpants, all held up in place with all the pins that
Katie had stuck into the waistbands several hours ago. They were still tightly
and securely maintaining the inseparability between my briefs and my shirt. I
reached around and felt the waistbands in the back, noting how high they went up
over my waist back there. The six pins back there reminded me of how Katie
applied the greatest level of reinforcement back there.
I had been needing to pee for some time. I was afraid to wet into my
briefs as they would probably leak once the wetness soaked its way through the
layers of fabric. I even masturbated in them again before I decided to let the
pee flow out. I wasn't used to wetting my underwear, just pooping in it. I was
tempted to remove them, but the pins in the back were difficult to reach. I
didn't want Katie or mom to detect that they had been removed as I could
probably never get them back in. Most of all, I had to let it out...now!
I had to hope that my underpants would adequately absorb all of the
wetness. For awhile, they seemed to be doing their job, but then I felt wetness
soak through all eighteen layers! It started in my front and continued to spread
down to my crotch and to the base of my rear end. I would most likely get my
sheets wet and would have to have them washed in the morning. After I stopped
wetting I felt the front of my briefs. They were wet! I grabbed the flashlight
and shined it onto the bulging fly front of my topmost briefs. The pure white
fabric was tarnished with a yellow tint.
I got up and turned on the light. I stood at my mirror and examined the
front of my briefs. They felt heavy and soaked. The fly fronts were saturated in
piss and had expanded from the volume of urine still trapped in the layers of
cotton fabric that wrapped my body. I was trapped in these wet, soaked
underpants. Longing for the feel of dry, clean underpants, I had to stay in my
piss-loaded briefs and try to fall asleep in spite of the dampness.
As hard as it was to believe the next morning, I actually did sleep that
night. I recalled a dream very vividly, evidence enough of having slept, that I
was walking through the school hallway wearing just some wet diapers. It gave a
new meaning to the term "wet dream."
It was more than a wet dream. It was a wet reality.
MICHAEL'S DIAPER STORIES: PART 9
--------------------------------
My underpants were wet all across the front as I got out of bed. I walked
towards my door and felt the damp cotton wrapped around me. I exuded a very
strong and foul odor of stale urine. I entered the front room and sat down on
the couch to watch TV. Katie came out of her room a few minutes later and saw me
sitting in my piss-drenched underpants.
"How are you this morning?" Katie greeted me. "A little wet, eh?"
"I need to change," I told her.
"Ah, ah, ah!" Katie interjected. "You're not supposed to tell anyone when
you need to change, remember?"
"I'm getting the cushion wet," I said, looking down at my yellowed,
bulging front as it pressed wetly down on the fabric of the couch.
"Sit on a garbage bag!" Katie suggested. She wasn't going to take the pins
out of my underwear's waistbands anytime soon. I got up and retrieved a large
white kitchen trash bag and brought it back with me. I laid it out flat and sat
down on it. I would have to carry it with me everywhere I sat until Katie
decided to let me change out of my wet briefs.
I felt a need to pee again into my underwear. They couldn't take any more
wetting as soaked as they were, but my bladder wasn't about to wait for Katie to
take out the pins. I could only hold it for so long before I had to release the
flow. More yellow, warm liquid poured into the front of my underwear and leaked
out of the leg bands, running onto the garbage bag. Katie looked at me as I was
sitting there still peeing.
The garbage bag was not containing the flood as my pee started to drip off
of the sides and onto the couch.
"Now can I take them off?" I asked Katie.
"I didn't hear that," she said. She then looked at the pool of urine that
formed on the plastic bag between my legs and said, "careful, you're leaking!"
"Katie! I'm soaking wet!" I demanded. "Can you please let me take these
under[ants off?"
"I'll let you change you when I'm ready!" Katie said.
"Fine, I'll take them off myself," I said.
"You even touch those pins and I will tell mom! I'm sure your little hiney
isn't healed yet, if that's a hint!"
"This bag isn't working!" I complained.
"Okay, then maybe you should *wear* it! I'll just wrap it around you so
you don't have to *sit there* all day and whine about it!"
As absurd as it sounded, I agreed that this was a good idea and did not
complain about it. Katie told me to get up and off of the bag so she could
spread the bag flat on the floor. While standing I could feel pee leaking out
and running down my legs. I then sat back down on the bag and let Katie proceed.
She had gone into the computer room to retrieve a roll of wide, clear mailing
tape, which would be used to hold the bag around my body.
Katie grabbed the corners of the bag and brought them together over my
right side and used a small piece of tape to hold the corners together,
repeating the process on the left side. She then ran the tape around my legs and
adhered the bag to my skin with an airtight, adhesive seal. Lastly, she had me
stand up so that she could wrap the tape around my waist. It probably wasn't
necessary, but Katie ran the tape around my waist about five or six times and
pulled on it as tightly as she could make it. Every time I inhaled I felt the
tape constricting on my stomach. As Katie had to work up close to my dripping,
reeking underpants, she commented on how I was starting to stink.
I wanted to ask her to change me again, but I knew this would have been
futile to ask of her since she just applied an estimated 15 to 20 feet of
mailing tape to my body. Besides, in spite of trying to think otherwise, I was
enjoying getting taped up in a makeshift pair of plastic pants, over a makeshift
diaper. I could tell Katie was very much enjoying doing this to her little
brother.
"There, now you can move around now," she said, looking proudly at the
plastic pants she made for me on the fly, no pun intended. As I looked at myself
wearing them in the mirror, the garbage-bag-turned-plastic-pants looked quite
authentic with their white color, wrapped around my underpants-turned-diapers.
"You do realize that those are staying on you awhile," Katie said,
implying that she still wasn't going to let me change out of them, as much as I
needed to change them.
"Awhile" turned out to be another three hours. The wetness had spread back
to my butt by then. I couldn't ignore the ever-present odor that emanated from
the damp underpants. It seemed so strange to want to write a story about getting
diapered in underpants and a garbage bag, but I had a lot of thoughts running
through my mind about it. I went into the computer room and sat down at the
keyboard. The chair I was sitting on remained dry as it was shielded from my
drenched underpants by the garbage-bag plastic pants, which crinkled so nicely
and authentically like the real thing.
I felt another urge to go into my underpants, only this time it was a big
bowel movement. Just as I was unable to do anything but to let my pee pour into
the fly fronts, I was unable to do anything to control the way my poop would
rush out messily into the stacked seats of my underwear. Instantly I blew a ton
of mud into my underpants, weighing down the back of them with a big load of
stinky shit. It was exciting at the same time that it was uncomfortable.
I continued to click the keys and write my story, which was almost like a
writing a live news report, being that I wrote it as it happened. My story-
writing session ended abruptly when Katie suddenly barged into the room and
pulled up another chair to play a computer game with me. Before she started she
took a whiff of my blended odors of pee and poop and decided that now was the
time to take the pins out. Finally! I really started to stink awfully bad at
that point.
Katie led me into the bathroom and pulled off the plastic bag and ripped
the tape away from my skin. I didn't have any hair on my legs yet, luckily, as
this would have hurt. She then laid the garbage bags flat beneath me at my feet.
She told me that my underpants were so soaked and full of pee and poop and to
put my soiled briefs in the bag to carry to the washing machine.
Katie was gagging on the strong odor as she went around me to take the
pins out of my waistbands. She almost threw up! Maybe she would let me change
sooner next time for her own sake. She took the last pin out and then washed her
hands.
My underwear looked just as bad as I expected it to see it after I took it
off. The front was stained heavily with a solid yellow-orange spot throughout
the front. The rear was, of course, smeared with poop all over the seat and up
into the crotch.
I stepped into the shower to spray off the mess. The skin on my bottom was
still red and tender from last night's spanking, making it sensitive to the warm
water as it sprayed me. To exacerbate the problem, I was developing a diaper
rash from having those very wet and poopy underpants on me so tightly and for so
long. Diaper rash! I momentarily savored the excitement of the thought of being
a twelve- year-old boy with a dermal affliction that normally affected babies.
After I got myself cleaned off I went straight to my room to put on some
more underwear. Katie watched me to make sure I was cooperating with my
punishment. She looked at how red my rear end was and asked, "Does baby have a
diaper rash?" in a baby-talk voice. She then rubbed her hand along it.
"Oww!" I yelped. "Don't touch! it hurts!"
"Better get used to it," Katie told me. "Just remember that you'll get
spanked there if I have to tell mom anything," Katie warned. "Tch, tch, tch, the
things you get yourself into, brother!"
Katie then watched me put on several more pairs of underwear and told me
to keep going until she thought they were on thick enough. I used up most of
what I had left in the drawer. It felt thick enough to be twenty pairs. It
bulged all around and constricted me at the waist so tightly.
Katie then went around me and pinned my waistbands to my shirt.
"You sure are cooperative," Katie commented. "I think you like this,
Michael. Do you?"
I couldn't answer honestly and tell her that I liked to feel like I was in
diapers, though I couldn't just lie and tell her I hated it, either. One reason
I did cooperate and let my sister do this to me without resistance was that I
knew she would tattle on me and I'd get spanked again, so this was what I told
Katie.
"That's right," Katie reminded me. "I also think you like it," she
reiterated.
Rather than to deny it, I asked Katie what made her think that I enjoyed
being unable to use a toilet and being forced to pee and poop into my
underpants. I feared that she saw my stories, but she would have told me about
them by now.
"You boys just have a way of showing that you like something," she
answered as she stuck in the last of the pins along my front. I figured that she
was alluding to my having an erection, though I kept my backside to her the
whole time I was putting my underwear on, and by the time I had it on it was too
thick up front for her to see that I had a hard-on underneath all that
underwear.
"You shake your bed at night, too" she added. "I could hear you in there
last night."
I didn't want to discuss it any further. The truth had been established
and revealed that I did enjoy it. Katie enjoyed it, too, having such control
over me like this. It made her feel superior to me, which she already did anyway
because she was older and that she was a girl.
By the time she got done pinning me up there were at least a dozen safety
pins fastened along my rear. I could see eight of them along the front and four
on each side.
"You'll never get those off!" she said with much satisfaction over seeing
me literally stuck in my bulging underwear. "Let's get your dirty pairs washed!
Where are they?"
"In the bathroom still," I said.
"Well, get them out of there and get them in the wash," she told me.
"Besides, I need to go in there to use the TOILET!"
I carried my underwear to the washing machine and faced the task of
handling my cold, pee-soaked and poop-covered briefs. They smelled so foul I
could barely stand the odor myself. I was about to hurl into the washing
machine! I stood at the washer and separated each pair and dropped them into the
wash. My hands were slimed with pee and poop, so I went into the bathroom to
wash them. Katie knew that was all I could do in there besides brush my teeth
and take showers, so she didn't suspect me of trying to use the toilet.
Katie had another garbage bag ready to wrap around me. I compliantly went
over to her and let her tape them up around my waist and around my legs. She
must have felt so powerful and dominant over me, knowing how fearful I was of
getting spanked if I fought her or showed any resistance. A look of satisfaction
beamed off of her face as she ran the tape around my waist for the fourth time.
I had planned to go to Billy's house today and check out the Internet on
their computer, but as I was grounded and confined to the house in only my
underwear, I was unable to leave. Billy called later that day and asked me where
I was and if I was coming over. I explained to him that I was grounded and
couldn't leave the house.
"I have nothing to wear now but my underwear, so I can't even sneak out,"
I added.
"Then I'll come over there instead," Billy suggested. "Are you allowed to
have friends over?"
"Nobody said I couldn't, so I guess you can," I said.
"Cool!" he exclaimed. "I'll copy some of the stuff I found on the Internet
onto disks and bring it over! You'll love it!"
I was too impatient to find out what he wanted to show me, and I begged
him to tell me, but he insisted on keeping it a surprise. I began to think that
he may have found some girlie pictures, though Billy never seemed to express
much interest in such matters. For that matter, I wasn't even too inclined to
get a glimpse of any of the porno mags that some of the other boys brought to
school to show everyone. I felt that I should have been interested in such
matters, being that I was twelve years old, but I wasn't. The only thing that
aroused me was diapers. It made me think about how my sexuality was really
defined.
About an hour had passed by while I waited for Billy to show up. When I
heard the doorbell ring I got up from my chair at the computer and ran to the
door. I assumed that it would be Billy as I was expecting him, and I didn't
consider the fact that it may have been someone else. It was too late when I
realized that the person behind the door was not Billy. As I opened the door, I
presented myself to the visitor wearing a shirt, socks to keep my feet warm, and
nearly two dozen pairs of white briefs wrapped in a plastic garbage bag and
mailing tape. I was quite a sight as I greeted Katie's friend Vicki.
It was too late to close the door on her, so I just opened it and ran back
to the computer room, thinking of how I must have looked to Vicki. I heard Vicki
close the door and come into the house. She walked by the computer room and
peered in, where she saw me sitting at the computer trying to be oblivious to
her presence.
After Katie came out of her room, she and Vicki came into the computer
room to join me. I tried not to sense that they were even there, but it was
impossible to ignore them when Vickie placed her hand on my bare thigh just to
affectionately acknowledge that I wasn't wearing any pants. As she had been out
in the cold and was not wearing gloves, her hand felt very cold.
"What do you think of his plastic pants?" Katie asked Vickie.
"What is it?" Vicki asked. "A garbage bag?"
"Yes, and it works, too. Michael can pee all he wants in his underpants
and nothing else will get wet, right Michael?"
I chose not to answer and continued to play my game.
"Why don't you get him some plastic pants?" Vicki suggested. "We're going
to make Jason wear diapers since he won't straighten up his act!" Vicki said,
referring to Jason, her little brother who was allegedly a pants-pooper as well.
"I think Michael will end up in diapers soon," Katie said, continuing
their third-person dialog about me while I was sitting there pretending to mind
my own business, but instead listening to what the girls were saying.
Suddenly Katie asked me, "Can we play when you're done?"
"I'll be awhile," I said, hoping to get them to leave.
"We'll wait," Katie said, sitting patiently in the chair next to me. "We
like to watch, too." Vicki sat on the floor on the other side of me. They each
watched me play, which made me nervous and disrupted my concentration. Even
though they were silent, their presence was getting to me.
The girls finally resumed their dialog, which had turned to idle girlish
chatter and giggling. Vicki stood up to show Katie her new pants that she got
for Christmas.
"I think they make my butt look big," Vicki commented as she modeled her
backside to Katie.
"I'll be honest, they do, a little," Katie answered. "Some guys like that,
though, and besides, just be glad that it isn't your *underwear* that makes your
butt look big, like somebody else we know of around here..." As usual, I was the
"butt" of their jokes again. Minutes later the doorbell rang again. This time it
had to be Billy, though I was more cautious to make sure it was him before
opening the door. I slowly pulled the door open and peaked out to see who it was
first. Seeing that it was Billy, I opened the door and let him in. He was
expecting to see me in several pairs of underpants as this was how I was dressed
when he left yesterday. He didn't, however, expect to see that I had a garbage
bag wrapping my bulging underpants. I also didn't tell him that my underpants
were pinned to my shirt.
"What happened to you?" he asked. "What's with the garbage bag?"
"Katie put this on me," I said, pulling on the plastic layer over my
bulging underpants. "I'm sure your plastic pants work better than this!"
"They probably do," Billy agreed as he pulled some floppy disks out of his
coat pocket. "Let me show what I got off the Internet!"
Billy set his coat on the couch and followed me to the computer room,
where the girls had taken over the computer and were playing games on it.
"Can we use the computer when you're through?" I asked Katie politely.
"You hogged it all morning, so you'll have to wait your turn!" Katie
snapped!"
"Yeah, so there!" Vicki taunted as she and Katie both turned around and
stuck their tongues out at Billy and me. "What hypocrites!" I thought. Girls
were supposed to act more mature than boys, as Katie had so often reiterated.
Billy and I could have mooned them to go one-up on them, but I wasn't able to
remove my underwear, and Billy wouldn't have wanted the girls to see what he had
on underneath his pants.
Katie then asked me why I had Billy over when I was grounded.
"Because he wanted to come over!" I snapped.
"My I remind you, little brother, that you are grounded!" she said.
"There was nothing said that I could not have friends visiting!" I stated.
"You know that grounding means no friends!"
"Hey, shut up, Katie! He's here and he's staying!"
"Fine," Katie said, closing her eyes and crossing her arms. "I'll just
tell mom and dad about it," she said with a satisfied look on her face.
Billy and I left the computer room and went to my room to wait for the
girls to leave.
"I can hear the spanking now!" Katie shouted. "Smack, smack, smack!
Somebody's going to have an awfully sore bottom!"
Billy sat on my bed and let me tell him the rest of everything that
happened after he left yesterday. I told him about the spanking, the way the
safety pins reinforced my punishment, and how wet and dirty I was before I was
allowed to take my underpants off.
I could tell Billy enjoyed listening to me describe it, especially the
part where Katie put all the pins into my waistbands. He liked the idea of being
forced to wear something so thick and as obvious as twenty-plus pairs of
underwear with the intentions of having them serve as a diaper and not being
able to take it off.
Billy was still clutching onto the floppy disks that he brought over,
anxiously wanting to show me what he got off the Internet.
"What do you want to show me? Tell me!" I begged him.
"I said it's a surprise! I don't want to spoil it for you."
"Are they naked girl pictures?" I asked, just out of curiosity.
"No, they're not. It's even better than that," he said. "Much better."
I decided to let Billy present it to me the way he intended, so I stopped
prodding him to tell me what he wanted to show me on his disks. The girls came
to my room and told me that they were done with the computer. Of course they
were very condescending about it.
"You do realize that mom will know Billy was here," Katie reminded me. I
decided to ignore her and let her walk off.
We returned to the computer room where Billy took the chair in front of
the computer. He popped in one of the disks and brought up a list of filenames,
many of which looked like they were titles to diaper stories.
"Are these all your stories, too?" I asked him.
"These aren't," he said. "These are other people's stories! I got tons of
them, all from the Internet!"
"You got *diaper* stories off the Internet?!" I said excitedly, but
quietly to avoid having the girls hear me.
"This one's my favorite that I've read so far," Billy said as he loaded
the file into the word processor. A lot of the stories he had collected were
written in much the same manner that Billy and I wrote our own stories. I was so
surprised to find out that there were other people in this world like Billy and
me who liked to write stories about wearing diapers.
"Some of them are true!" Billy said. "I think I'll post my stories
sometime," Billy said. "I have some true ones of my own to share."
"Post them?" I asked. "You mean to the group?"
"Yeah, there's a discussion group on wearing diapers on the Internet; it's
really cool! People post stories and talk about wearing diapers and other
things. There's a lot of other crap, too. Some people don't like kids to post
there because they say its an adult group."
Billy continued to explain all the web sites he found on diaper stories
and diaper fetishes in general. He was bubbling over so exuberantly now and
wanted me to come over and see these web sites on their computer, but I had to
do my time at home first, which would last for at least another week. I was just
as excited and as frustrated that I couldn't go over to his house until my
punishment was rescinded.
"I wish we'd get the Internet," I sighed. "Now that I've gotten myself
into this much trouble, my parents will probably never let me get on it."
"They will, if you beg them long enough."
"I'll ask them about it after I get my 'toilet privileges' back."
"Do you want your 'toilet privileges' back?" Billy asked, though it was
more of a rhetorical question.
"No!" I said. "Not really, but I'd like to get to do the other things I
like doing, too! This sucks, being grounded!"
Billy copied the disks for me so that I could print the stories for
inclusion in my story notebook. He had thirty stories on three disks, "more
still on the hard drive," Billy said. "Some of the stories were really long and
would take a long time to print, so I decided to save those for later.
"How long did it take you to get all these?"
"I sneaked out of bed and stayed up until three in the morning to get most
of them. I got the rest of them this morning."
While we were in the middle of browsing one of the stories, Katie barged
in and told us that she was going back to Vicki's house.
"Even though you're not supposed to be here, Billy," Katie said, to him,
"you can watch my brother while we're gone! He's not to take his underpants off,
you know. You be sure and tell me if he does."
"Okay, I'll do anything get my best friend in trouble!" he joked.
"Maybe you ought to wear them, too, Billy!" Katie said, not yet knowing
that Billy was already a full-time diaper wearer.
After Katie and Vicki left we decided to use the time to run off the
stories on the printer. I decided to only run twenty pages worth since mom and
dad would get mad if I used up all the paper and ink so quickly. I was in enough
trouble with them already.
I finished printing the last page and stuck it in with the rest of the
pages I printed. I then opened up my notebook and tucked the entire set of new
printouts in my notebook along with the growing collection of stories.
Billy looked at my notebook, which was now getting to be quite full, and
suggested that it should be organized so that my stories were in one section,
his in another, and stories from the Internet in another section.
Billy also suggested that my notebook should have a title page. He loaded
up a graphics program and drew a freehand image of a boy wearing a big, thick
white diaper and filled in some colors. Since I often wore red T-shirts, he made
the shirt on the boy red. Though the facial features were a tad crude, he did
make a fairly good likeness of me in the drawing. Billy proved his exceptional
artistic skills as he worked in the details of the image, such as the creases
and folds on the plastic pants.
While he was sitting there busily fine-tuning the picture he drew, I peed
into my underpants and felt the warm liquid soak into the twenty-some-odd layers
of cotton. Some of my pee found its way out of the leg bands and spilled into
the garbage bag that was tightly taped at my legs, I looked down at my crotch
and saw a small pool of pee at the edge of the garbage bag trying to seep
through the tape. Billy knew from the way I examined my crotch that I had just
wet.
Billy stopped and asked me what it was like to pee into a thick set of
underpants layered together.
"Diapers still work better, especially if you pee," I said as I was
speaking from experience. "Pooping into underpants isn't a problem as long as
you have enough on to make it all padded up back there."
"I was just curious; I've never worn regular underpants," Billy told me.
"Just diapers and special bedwetter pants like I have on now. How well do your
underpants hold it in?"
"They're okay for a little while, but then Katie makes me sit in my piss
and shit all day until she takes the pins out. She makes me wait a long time."
I wanted to show Billy the way she pinned my underpants on, but they were
under several layers of heavy tape that, if tampered with, would get me in
trouble. Billy couldn't stay any longer, and I was starting to get nervous about
having him there since my mom was due to come home soon. Billy got up and put
his coat on before heading out the door.
A few minutes of solitude passed as I had the house all to myself. I was
quite stimulated by that time from having read those stories Billy got from the
Internet and from being in my "diaper" all day. I decided to take advantage of
this time and savor the feelings I was having, feelings that were so good, but
yet so intimate that I could never tell anyone about them, even though Katie was
aware that I felt this way about wearing diapers.
MICHAEL'S DIAPER STORIES: PART 10
---------------------------------
Mom came home a short time later and asked me how my "diaper" was holding
up. The thick set of underpants that made up my "diaper" was wet and soaked all
the way through, but the garbage bag and tightly-wrapped tape was keeping the
couch cushion dry and the pee from dripping down my legs.
Mom took a closer look and saw that I had the plastic garbage bag taped
onto me. She looked at the "leg bands" and observed how the puddles of urine had
built up around them.
"What's with the garbage bag, Michael?" mom asked me.
"I was leaking, so Katie put it around me," I said so humbly. "Everything
I sat on got wet, too."
"Do you think Katie used enough tape?" mom asked, though this was only a
sarcastic remark. "This is wasteful," mom groaned. She then grabbed some
scissors and cut through the layers of tape that were wrapped around my waist.
She started to pull away at the tape around my legs, but the pee puddles that
had gathered there started dripping out and onto the carpet, and some of it onto
mom's hands.
Stand outside and let me pull this tape off! You're dripping all over,
Michael!"
While I stood outside on the front step, I felt the bitter, chilly wind
biting at my bare thighs. It was so cold that within seconds the pee that had
dripped down to the concrete step had completely frozen. The wetness on the
outside of my underpants felt like it was turning into ice from the frigid
weather.
I asked mom, "What am I going to wear over my underpants now?"
"We'll get you some plastic pants!" mom answered without hesitation. In
fact we'll go right now while the car is still warm!"
"Can I have some pants to wear, too?" I asked mom, though I already knew
the answer. "No!"
"You can just go like that," mom said as she pointed to my bulging,
dripping underpants. "Now just stay right there!" she instructed me.
While I stood at the door, as told to do, my legs were still chilled from
standing outside, even for just a few seconds. I squatted down over the heat
vent to warm up. The hot blast of air helped to dry out my underpants, too.
Mom went back to my room and grabbed my shoes and a pair of socks. She
tossed them to me and told me to put them on. Seeing me in a squatting position,
she thought I was pooping into my underwear, but I was just trying to get warmed
up. The smell of pee filled the air around me as the heat evaporated it out of
my underpants, though there was a lot of wetness left in them, too deep for the
heat to penetrate.
Mom brought me a towel from the bathroom and told me to use it to sit on
in the car. As I prepared to endure the cold, mom came up right behind me,
holding the pairs of Billy's underpants that had been confiscated from me.
"We'll take these back to Billy while we're out," mom said.
After I had my shoes and socks on mom tossed my coat to me and then
prodded my padded pooper to get out to the car. Her hand pushed into the thick,
wet stack of cotton layers wrapping up my bottom.
Mom drove to a nearby medical supply store to get my plastic pants. Along
the way I kept quiet, wondering if perhaps mom was going to buy some diapers for
me while she was there. I didn't know whether or not to ask mom if this was what
she was doing. Nothing was said during the drive, creating a verbal silence. It
was that kind of silence that could communicate one's mood. I could hear how mom
felt about me without her speaking a single word.
Not until mom parked the car at the medical supply store did she say
anything, and even then, all she said was, "stay right here, I'll be right out."
She was kind enough to leave the engine running so I wouldn't freeze to death.
"Stay right here," I thought. It felt cold enough outside to give a fully-
clothed person frostbite, and I had no pants on. Even if it were a summer day, I
wouldn't get out and let someone see me with several layers of white briefs
pinned to my shirt-not to mention that they were soaked in urine! Rest assured,
I was not about to go anywhere!
Mom was in and out of the store within a few minutes, just as she
promised. She tossed the bag on the seat and got in the car. I sat there
hesitantly, wondering if I could take a look at the plastic pants just yet. I
wanted to know what they looked like. Not only did I get to see them right away,
I was told to wear them right away, too.
"Well, put them on, Michael!" mom said.
I pulled out one of the two pairs that she bought. I unfolded it and
looked at how big they were. I knew they would go on big, too. They were made of
a thinner, less durable material than the ones I had seen Billy wear, but still
plastic pants, nonetheless.
It was difficult to slip the plastic pants on in the car, but I managed to
do so in spite of what little space I had. My white, padded butt was sticking up
in the window, knowing that any passersby or other observers in the immediate
area may get a glimpse my rear end.
After I had them on mom gave them another tug and patted me on the bottom.
There must be some parental instinct that forces one to pat a diapered bottom
when they see one. Of course Katie could never resist doing it, either, and she
wasn't a parent.
"How long do I have to wear these?" I asked mom.
"When your punishment is over, we'll give them to Billy, since he needs
them more than you do. Hopefully you'll soon realize that you *don't* need them,
Michael."
I already knew that I didn't *need* to be in diapers. For me, it was a
matter of *wanting* to wear them, but I couldn't tell my mom that.
We stopped at Billy's house was on our way back home. I expected mom to
get out and take Billy's underpants to the door, but she made me get out and
take them up to the door instead. I didn't want to get out and freeze my
unprotected legs, but mom wasn't about to wait for me to voice my objections.
"Get your butt going! I don't care who answers the door, just hand them
over and leave!" mom ordered me harshly. "And leave your coat open so everyone
can see what you have on!"
It was only a short walk to the door of Billy's house, but my legs still
became cold and numb from their exposure to the biting wind. I rang the doorbell
and hoped that Billy would answer. I stood and waited, hoping that someone,
*anyone*, would answer. I couldn't take the cold much longer.
Finally the door opened. Billy's sister Becky greeted me with her mouth
agape wondering why I was standing outside, my legs bare, wearing plastic pants
and what she probably thought were real diapers, until she saw the fly front on
my topmost pair of underwear was showing through the thin plastic layer on top
of it.
"What are you doing here, Michael? Where are your pants? You must be
freezing to death!" Becky said, sounding concerned.
"These are Billy's," I said through my chattering teeth as I handed the
fluffy, freshly washed stack of Billy's underpants to Becky.
"Okay, did you get some diapers of your own, or what?"
I didn't take time to explain things. I knew mom didn't want me to stand
there and chat with whomever, and besides, I was getting cold really fast now.
It felt good to get back into the warm car as we headed for home.
Katie had gotten back home by the time mom and I returned. Katie looked at
me walking around with plastic pants pulled up over my underwear and laughed.
Each step I made was a subtle, yet continual reminder that I was wearing plastic
pants.
"Now you really look like you're in diapers, Michael!" Katie remarked.
"You might as well be at this point, you know! How long has it been since you've
gotten to use the toilet?"
"It'll be awhile before he uses it again, Katie" mom told her.
"Where did you get the plastic pants?" Katie asked me. I didn't answer.
"Oh, by the way, mom," Katie spoke up. "Billy came over today, while
Michael is being grounded! I say we spank him good, huh?"
Mom turned around and stared at me sternly.
"Michael! You know that you are not to have friends over when you are
grounded!" mom shouted.
I was fearful of mom as I was expecting to get a good series of swats in a
little bit. At the same time I was angry at Katie for telling on me. I couldn't
lash out against mom, and Katie was really the target of my frustration, so I
shoved her and knocked her down.
"Michael! Go to your room, now!" mom shouted.
She dragged me by my shirt and threw me onto the bed.
"Bend over!" she shouted, gripping my earlobe.
At first I didn't think I could get hurt too badly since my butt was so
securely padded and insulated from any flat hand that may strike it. I felt that
nobody would want to take all the pins out first before spanking me, but I was
wrong.
"Katie! Come help me take these pins out!" mom shouted.
Katie came into the room and assisted mom with the removal of the safety
pins that had created a virtual lock on my underpants. They worked quickly to
get the pins out. They didn't even let me pull my underwear off. Instead, mom
and Katie grabbed the plastic pants and pulled them down, followed by the
underpants, grabbing a few waistbands at a time until they were all off,
completely off and on the floor. I was told to step out of them. I briefly
looked at my underpants, stained in yellow and dripping wet, stinking from a
day's collection of urine.
My rear was completely bare, ready to get spanked. It began with a fast
and furious series of swats, each one feeling more painful than the last. I
tried not to cry, but there was to way to stand stoically against such pain.
Each excruciating hit I felt further decimated my endurance.
"You do not treat your sister like that!" mom shouted as she delivered
each smack to my backside with full force. Katie stood there and watched it all
happen. I could only face the wall on the other side of my bed, but I knew that
Katie had a look of trepidation on her own face, thinking how bad this must hurt
and how glad she was not to be the one bent over bare-bottomed at this moment.
Each stinging strike to my butt made me cry even harder. I didn't know
when it would stop. By the time it did, my butt felt like I had sat on a pile of
burning coals.
"You know what to do, Katie!" mom said as she left the room. "Pin him up
and send him to bed!"
"I think I should spank him, too!" Katie said.
"No!" I cried, shoving her away.
"Yes, Katie! Spank him some more! He hasn't learned his lesson yet! Bake
his butt!"
Just when I thought I had felt the last of it, Katie started hitting me
where I was already hurting. I didn't expect her to hit so hard, but she
delivered her swats in much the same fashion. I got twenty more swats from Katie
before it was all over. I started screaming and begging for her to stop.
"Have you learned your lesson. Michael?" she asked me.
I was crying too much now to talk. All I could do was nod my head. Through
my wailing sobs, I told Katie I was sorry and would never shove her or hit her
again.
"You'd better stick to your promise, brother! It'll hurt even worse next
time!"
I couldn't imagine anything hurting any worse than what I had just
suffered through. I felt completely weakened and helpless as I respectfully
apologized to Katie. I couldn't admit it, but I was more afraid of her than
ever. She had even more power over me, which was quite gratifying to her.
"Okay, so you're sorry! Now get some clean underpants on before I do it
again!"
I didn't even want to think of challenging Katie at this point. I walked
over to my underwear drawer and pulled it open. In it had been placed the pairs
that I had worn before. Some of them were badly stained from being soiled
before. Since these pairs were already ruined, I decided to put them on first so
the cleaner, whiter outer pairs would conceal the unsightly poop stains. The
stained pairs were older and a size smaller, so it made sense to put them on
first anyway so that my newer, larger underwear would fit over it.
I had the usual twenty-some-odd pairs of underpants on by the time the set
was getting too thick to accommodate any more layering on top of it. The
waistbands were getting stretched as far as they could go. Katie then put all
the pins back in and concentrated most of them in the rear where it would be
harder for me to reach them. Katie then pulled the plastic pants out of the wet
bunch of underpants that were on the floor and handed them to me. They were
already wet from being up against the other set of underpants that were taken
off of me prior to that horrible spanking episode, which I could still feel
freshly stinging on my behind.
"Now get into bed!" she commanded me as she gathered up my soaked
underwear. "I'll get these washed for tomorrow."
It was only 6:30 in the evening, much too early for me to go to bed. I
wasn't the least bit sleepy, though I felt exhausted from expending so much
energy wailing in pain over getting spanked. Dad wasn't even home yet. In a way,
I was glad that I was in bed. Dad would probably want to take his turn spanking
me. I had a lot of time to lie in bed and think about what my diaper fetish was
getting me into.
I hadn't yet had dinner, and tonight I was probably not going to get any,
either. I could smell the meal cooking in the kitchen, which meant dad was
probably going to be home soon. I continued to lie on my sore bottom, thinking
about the consequences of my actions. I thought about Billy and the future of
our friendship. He was probably wanting to know how my family found out that I
had his underpants, which didn't become evident to him until Becky, as I
presumed, took them to Billy and told him what had been going on. He was so
self-conscious of himself and was probably in hysterics. Just when he thought he
had found a friend he could trust-- a friend with whom he could even share his
creative talents that expressed his intense and sensual feelings about wearing
diapers all his life-- he had his one most intimate secret revealed.
I had a secret of my own that I was successful at keeping from everyone,
at least so far. Though Katie expressed suspicions of it, nobody knew for sure
how I felt about wearing diapers. I grew up with a desire to wear them, and I
couldn't help it. It made me feel good, both physically and mentally. It was
like an addiction, and I was getting punished for it.
My story collection represented these feelings. At times I thought of
getting rid of my stories and trying to rid myself of these feelings. At first,
it sounded like it would open the doors to a new freedom. No secrets to hide, no
temptations to do what was not at all expected of a twelve-year-old boy. No more
spankings or other consequences of my actions. I could live like I perceived a
normal twelve-year-old boy to live.
At this moment, where I was alone and deeply entrenched in my thoughts, I
conceded to the fact that I was not "normal," and it only took a moment to
realize that I was kidding myself, I knew I could never maintain my resolve for
very long. I was a bona fide diaper freak, and I had the stories to prove it.
Besides, even if I did ever get rid of them, Billy had copies of every story I
had anyway, so I knew I could easily get them all back.
I then mulled over another thought. Perhaps I could confess to my family
that I wanted to wear diapers and would be happier if I were allowed to do so.
If they gave me this "privilege" I wouldn't have to hide anything. I could be
permitted to wear diapers around the house and everyone would expect it of me. I
thought of how great it would be if my parents accepted it, but there was always
the possibility that they would not accept it and subject me to further
punishment or commit me to a mental health institution. After weighing the pros
and cons, I decided that I would tell my family about it tomorrow. I'd even have
my notebook full of stories ready to present to them.
Forty-five minutes later I was still wide awake rehearsing my lines. I
tried to craft in my mind what I would say, how I would say it, and at what time
I would tell them. I was looking forward to tomorrow. I hoped I would still have
the same confidence by then to deliver my confession.
Suddenly my deep thoughts crashed to an abrupt halt as I heard the
doorknob on my bedroom door jiggle. My door had swung open and the light was
turned on.
It was mom and she was holding a plate that she had prepared from
tonight's dinner along with a glass of milk.
"I couldn't let you go without dinner tonight, Michael," she said. "My
mother never sent me to bed without supper, and I could never do the same to
you, either, no matter how much you're in."
I sat up and took the plate from mom and set the milk on my nightstand.
"Just set your dishes outside the door when you're done."
Mom started to leave, but then I stopped her.
"Mom?"
"Yes. What?"
I wanted to tell mom about my feelings, but at the last minute my
confidence disappeared and I wasn't ready to make my confession. I sat with my
head hung low, trying to find the right words to say. I couldn't do it. I needed
to think about the possible consequences of this confession some more.
"Do you want to tell me something?" mom asked.
"Yes," I said. I quickly rehearsed my lines again, but I was not ready to
deliver them. I had mom's attention now, so I had to say something.
"I'm sorry for shoving Katie," I said, retracting from telling mom that I
wanted to wear diapers as I originally intended to do.
"She forgives you," mom said. "Your dinner's getting cold. Good night."
"Good night, mom," I said as she closed the door. I sat there and ate my
dinner in bed, thinking of how I could have told mom and relieved myself of the
anxiety I was still feeling, but I had blown my only chance tonight and would
have to continue turning it over in my mind at least until tomorrow. My only
hope was to catch mom in the hall as I set my dishes outside my door, but she
wasn't there at that time. I turned out my light and went back to bed.
A couple hours later, still wide awake, I had a big, messy bowel movement
ready to make its exit into my tight, thick layering of briefs. Even before it
left my body I knew it was going to spread all over my rear end. Within a couple
minutes I had poop shooting out of my rear and finding its way into the tight,
confining space between my rump and the wall of packed, stratified briefs that
covered it. I had no easy, undetectable way to remove the pins and pull the
soiled underpants off of me and was forced to sleep in poop- filled underpants,
or at least lie there in bed for several more hours and feel my load of poop
squish around underneath me until morning.
It was about 1:30 in the morning when I heard some tapping on my window.
It scared me to death, thinking we had a burglar or a prowler trying to bust in.
Had I not already shit my underpants, I would have certainly loaded them! I
didn't know that it was Billy until he shone his flashlight on his face and let
me know who he was. What a relief!
I opened the window and talked to him through the screen.
"I wrote you a note," he said, passing the folded paper through the tight
space between the screen and the window sill. It was like I was in a prison and
Billy was serving as a messenger from the outside.
"Since I can't come over or call you while you're grounded, I had to do
this," he explained. "I just wanted to let you know about a couple things."
I took the note from Billy and told him I'd talk to him upon returning to
school. I was in enough trouble already and I didn't need to be grounded any
longer, and I certainly didn't need my butt to be beaten again.
I said goodbye to Billy and closed the window. I then sneaked out of my
room to retrieve a flashlight so that I could read the note. Having successfully
accomplished this mission, I returned to my bed and read the note in the light
of a flashlight beneath the covers. It read: Dear Michael, I came by your house
earlier tonight, but your mom said you were sent to bed and you were grounded
from seeing me until the end of Christmas break. I had to let you know how I
felt after your mom made you bring back my underpants tonight. I'm afraid of
what your family thinks of me now that they know I wear diapers. Has Katie said
anything? Does everyone know that you want to wear diapers, too? What happened
after I left your house yesterday? If you can sneak out, send a note back to me.
If I don't get one from you before I see you at school, I'll understand. We can
talk about it on lunch then. Your friend, Billy
I read the note again, and then once more, rehearsing my proposed reply to
him in my mind. By then the flashlight was starting to get dim from low battery
power and my poopy underpants were really starting to stink up what little air I
had in the small space underneath the covers of my bed. I set the flashlight and
the note underneath my bed and decided to try going to sleep, which wasn't easy
to do in soiled underpants that I couldn't remove.
My briefs were so dirty, smelly and nasty, but I liked the way this
appealed to me visually as well as the feel of the mess and the constant odor
that made me feel so much like a little boy hopelessly failing at toilet
training. The sensations reminded me of why I liked wearing diapers so much in
the first place. It had been several hours since I got my butt slapped and now I
was ready to make myself feel good again. I rocked my bed furiously as I thought
of having such thick, unremovable padding pinned onto me until the next morning,
all the while securely holding in my big glob of shit. Most likely my body would
add more to the filth in my briefs before anything was done about it. I
continued to secretly enjoy this experience for several days and nights
thereafter, some days only getting two chances to change my underpants.
Christmas break still had more than a week to go. With the exception of my
shower and clean-up time, I spent every second of those remaining days pinned
into thick sets of underpants, which had become very stained and dingy from
repeated and frequent peeing and pooping in them. I hadn't used the toilet once
during that period, a thought I enjoyed.
Even though liked being in only my makeshift diapers for the entire
period, it did deprive me of getting to play in the snow and going over to
Billy's house. Billy never came over to visit, so I had a lot of free time, too
much free time. I could only write so many diaper stories in a day. I considered
myself to be stuck in a "diaper prison," an appropriate metaphor since I was
imprisoned simply by the fact that could not take off my "diaper" and I had no
pants to wear that would fit, thus not permitting me to leave the house, or,
"The Diaper Prison," my latest diaper story based on my most recent experiences.
Michael's Diaper Stories, Parts 11-19