| Title: | Caught With My Pants Down | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Name: | TP | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Email: | [email protected] | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Gender: | Male | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Current Age: | 45 | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Whom Story is About: | Myself | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Posting Date: | 09/20/09 | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Life Periods in Story: |
| |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Ages in Story: |
| |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Story Contents: |
| |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Summary: | A day when I was spanked and put back in nappies. | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Deekerian Score (20 is max.) [?]: | 6 (30%) |
As the youngest of 6 children my mother was certain I would potty train early, firstly because by then she was highly experienced, secondly because she was absolutely fed up with washing nappies and wanted me dry as soon as possible. By two years old I was dry during the day and at night by 3 years yet my mother still kept a supply of nappies and plastic pants in the airing cupboard, I presume from force of habit. It was July 1968, I was 4 � years old and about to start school in September. It was a hot day so I had been outside in our garden almost since breakfast playing with my Tonka truck in my sand pit. It occurred to me that I needed a wee but I really didn�t want to stop playing to go inside and use the toilet. I looked around to check I was alone and pulled down my shorts and underpants to pee against the garden shed as I had many times before. I was happily peeing as high as I could against the shed when I felt my underpants and shorts sliding down, then I realised they weren�t sliding down since I was still holding them, they were being pulled down. As the first slap landed on my bottom it still didn�t occur to me that my mother had hold of my shorts, the first was followed quickly by many more as my mother scooped me up under her arm and continued to smack my bottom. By the second strike I was crying and by the fourth howling madly as my bottom started to catch fire. Only a few moments later my mother had carried me into the house and dropped me on my bed. I bawled my heart out because of my sore bottom and the suddenness of the whole thing. My mother left me on my bed crying whilst she went to the airing cupboard and collected a terry nappy, plastic baby pants and pins. For the next few minutes I laid motionless whilst she lifted my bottom and pinned the nappy on me and put the plastic pants over my feet before standing me up. She was continually telling me that if I wanted to behave like a baby she would treat me just like one. Once the nappy was secured she stood me up, pulled my plastic pants up and systematically checked that all the cloth was enclosed before she put me on her hip and carried me back to the garden, my sandpit and toys. I was still crying miserably from the pain in my bottom, it didn�t occur to me to be humiliated by the nappy or the lack of shorts covering it. I don�t remember any more about the incident. Not even having the nappy removed. My mother has told me that it was removed at bath time but I never found the opportunity to ask if it was wet. Undoubtedly this incident has fashioned what I am today.