How Else Would You Treat a Bedwetter?

	Like many others, I too, have a story about how I became an adult 
baby. My parents got a divorce when I was 5 months old. Mom seemed to 
have a hard time keeping her pants on and my dad just seemed to have a 
hard time dealing with that.
	Because it was the sixties, I was given to my mother in the 
divorce. My dad got to visit me on Sundays. He would pick me up every 
single Sunday and we had just about the best time in the world. As I 
got older we became best of friends and my mother hated it. I would 
talk about my dad all the time. I think she was jealous of our 
closeness, and as a result she did many things in my life to get even 
with my dad. I had a sister and she was a mom's little girl. She would 
follow her around, with her nose up her butt, and would do anything mom 
wanted her to do. My mother hated that I wouldn't forget about my dad 
and made my life a living hell. I was always grounded ,spanked and 
downright neglected just for my love of my father.
	Mom did one thing to me that was extra mean. I was a bedwetter 
and mom always said I did it to get even with her for my constant state 
of punishment. She would always punish me for wetting by putting back 
in diapers. I can remember it like it was yesterday. I would go to bed 
at night making sure to go potty and restrict drink for hours before 
bedtime. When I wet the bed, I was always having a dream about peeing 
(like for example one time, I was fishing with my dad and had to pee 
so, I unzipped my pants and peed). Then next thing I knew I was in a 
soaking wet bed.
	I always tried to hide a wet bed from my mother, but I never was 
successful. I would hide my underwear behind the dresser and towel off 
the bed and then make my bed, hoping to hide it. Little did I know that 
a pee soaked bed smelled. Anyway I would go down stairs, to have 
breakfast and she would call me back upstairs and show me that she had 
found my wet bed and jammies. She would tell me to take off my pants 
and underwear and sit on my bed and wait for her. Mom was very cruel 
and would make me sit on my bed for hours sometimes before she would 
return. When she would return she would have a three cloth diapers, 
plastic pants, diaper pins, and a belt. When she came into my room she 
would grab me , roll me over and then blister my butt with the belt. 
The whole time telling me I was gross. By the time she was finished 
beating me with the belt my bottom was bright red and flaming hot. Next 
she would roll me back over and then fold the diapers on the bed next 
to me. I would beg her not to diaper me , but it never worked. She 
would grab my ankles, hoist me up and put the folded diapers under me. 
By that time I was usually crying loudly. After I was lowered back onto 
the diapers she would very tightly pin the diapers at each side of my 
waist, With little duckie safety pins. The whole time she was diapering 
me she would be telling me things like, "big boys don't wet the bed," 
and , "only little babies have to wear diapers." Once I had been 
properly diapered she would pull the plastic pants up my legs. Now this 
alone was enough to send any little boy into therapy for years, but my 
mother wasn't finished yet. She would grab my hand and take outside and 
walk me around the block, for all my friends to see my diapers. I would 
scream bloody murder the entire trip. my friends would laugh at me and 
make comments about seeing me in just a shirt and diapers. My mother 
ate it up, telling them I had wet the bed on purpose.
	Diaper punishment would last around a week, me in diapers and 
plastic pants, 24 hours a day, and anywhere I went. If I had to use the 
potty I had to go ask her to take off my diaper so I could use the 
toilet and then return to her when I had finished to get rediapered. 
She didn't care where we were at, that was the rule. When I would go to 
a family gathering or to one of her friends houses, I had to go in and 
take down my pants and show everyone my diapers. My cousins would laugh 
at me the entire time we were together. You have never felt 
embarrassment until you had to ask you mom to take off you diaper in 
front of everyone, so you could use the potty, and even worse to have 
to return and get diapered on the living room floor right in front of 
you aunts and uncles and cousins. My grandmother would always tell my 
how embarrassed she was of me.
	If I was at home and had diapers on, I had to take off my pants 
to go play with my friends. being a little boy, I was always excited to 
play with my friends, but when I found out I had to go without pants, I 
would usually decide not to go. My mother hated to have me around the 
house a lot during the summer, so if she found me inside for a long 
time she would take off my pants and push me out the front door and 
then lock it.
	My dad found out about my diapers one day during a visit. He came 
to pick me up and I had wet the bed that night. Mom had diapered me and 
sent me out to his car . He had a great looking '67 'Vette . before I 
was sent to the car I got my usual threat that if I told my dad 
anything about what was going on I was gonna get it big time when I got 
home. I got in the car and we did the usuall hellos. He would say "Are 
we buddies?" I would say "yep." He would say, "are we best of buddies?" 
I would say "yeps," and he would ask how the bitch was. I would laugh 
and enjoy my day.
	Anyway, the day he found my diapers, we had just got back to his 
house and he noticed the large bulge from my diapers in my pants. He 
took me to the bathroom and took off my diaper and we went to a movie. 
He asked me about the diaper several time during that day and by the 
time his visit was over, that night he was pissed. I told him it 
happened all the time and that mom was gonna be really mad at him for 
taking off my diaper. We drove back to her house and he walked me to 
the door with my diaper in his hand. When my mother opened the door he 
threw the diaper in her face and told her if he ever seen anything like 
this again he was gonna knock her out. My dad always came to my rescue. 
That's probably why we are still best friends to this day. Once my dad 
and mom finished fighting she took me in the house and put my diaper 
back , but only after she blistered my butt with her belt. My dad 
fought in court for years to get me to live with him and he never gave 
up.
	I was diapered from the age of potty training until age twelve, 
when I got to go live with him. I never once wet the bed at his house. 
It was kinda funny how it just stopped when I got to go live with him. 
I remember one time when I was 8 I was having a sleep over at my 
mother's best friend's house. We called her Aunty Jeany, even though 
she wasn't my aunt. It was her oldest son's birthday. He was 9. The day 
was loads of fun, cake and ice cream, lots of good fun. That all went 
sour around 2 in the morning. I had gone to bed just like normal and 
was having one of my usual peeing dreams, and you guessed it, wet her 
bed. I woke up and noticed what I had done. I panicked and started to 
cry. I must have woken up Aunt Jeany because she was in the doorway 
asking what was wrong. I didn't know how to tell her so I just showed 
her. My pjs were soaked and so was the bed. I could quickly see she 
wasn't taking this very well. she was yelling at me and then she 
decided the best thing to do was call my mother. I begged and begged 
her not to call her, but she was just hellbent on calling her. When my 
mother answered the phone Aunt Jeany made me tell her what I had done. 
She didn't even speak to me, other than to tell me to give the phone 
back to Jeany. They talked for a bit and I could tell my mother was 
screaming up a proper punishment for my aunt to carry out. I was 
getting bits and pieces of the conversation but what I did get was mom 
was trying to get me put in diapers. Aunt Jeany's kids were both potty 
trained and had been out of diapers for years, so I felt safe that she 
didn't have any diapers. With me being jerked up the stairs and her 
still on the phone, we went to the hall closet and she began to dig in 
the back of it. I was hoping she wouldn't find any diapers but of 
course she managed to retrieve out a half-empty box of Pampers. She 
told my mother she had found some Pampers, both of them laughed. My 
mother told her to put me back on the phone. By that time I was crying 
and begging her not to do this to me. She told me I had done the crime 
now it was time to pay for it. I was shaking as I handed to phone back 
to Aunt Jeany. Mom told her to spank me and put in diapers, and in the 
morning have all the kids at the party lead me around the block. They 
hung up and aunt Jeany grabbed me by the arm and took me to her room. I 
was not going to take this just willingly, so she had to drag me down 
the hall.
	Once I was in her room she picked me up and threw me on the bed 
ripped off my wet pj's and rolled me over onto my stomach. She didn't 
have anything to spank me with at hand so she used her bare hand. It 
hurt very bad and she continued to spank my until I was curled in a 
submissive ball on the bed. I knew I had been beat and when she rolled 
me back over to diaper me I just whimpered. I just couldn't believe she 
was actually gonna diaper me, But when she picked up the Pamper and 
opened it up in front of me I knew it was gonna happen. just like my 
mother, she grabbed both my ankles and hoisted me up, and slid the 
diaper under me. The big difference came when she pull the diaper up 
between my legs. It crinkled loudly and the tapes made a ripping sound 
as she tightly fastened it around my waist. Since I was a small (only 
about 35 pounds at age 8) the Pamper fit very good. Aunt Jeany got up 
off the bed and told me to just lie still and that she would be right 
back. her youngest son was 5 and was just a little smaller than me. 
since my pjs were wet she decided to go get some of his jammies. She 
returned with a footed blanket sleeper (the kind with zipper from ankle 
to chin) I went nuts again. It was baby blue and had Scooby Doo on the 
front. I was put in it and zipped up and told if I took it off for any 
reason I was gonna get another spanking. As I slid off the bed I was 
very apparent I wasn't gonna hide my diapers because each and every 
little movement was echoed with a very loud pamper crinkle coming from 
inside my sleeper. She patted me on the diapered tush and told me to go 
downstairs and sleep on the couch. The next morning all the kids founds 
out about my diapers and had a good laugh. Aunt Jeany asked them take 
me around the block just like my mother asked. When my mother showed up 
that day she found me on the living room floor wearing a pamper, 
watching a movie with all the other kids. She decided she really liked 
the Pampers because they made so much noise and made it impossible for 
me to hide. From that day on I was always put in Pampers instead of 
cloth. Once at church a lady leaned over to where my mother was sitting 
and told my mother she could hear my Pamper and was wondering how old I 
was. She told her I was 8 and both of them laughed at me. The lady told 
me I should be ashamed of myself, a grown boy of 8 needing diapers. I 
wanted to crawl under the church.
	That was the last major incident with diapers. at age 12 I went 
to go live with my dad and like I said, never ,ever had another problem 
with wetting the bed. As I grew up, I started finding myself watching 
diaper ads and even sometimes wishing I could once again wear them. I 
didn't understand these feelings at all because how could I want 
something that caused me so much pain. I was forced to go visit my 
mother a few times but as a I got older I just wouldn't go at all. At 
age 19, I went into the Air Force and stayed there for 9 years. 2 years 
into my air force career I met my wife Julie we got married and she had 
a daughter from a previous marriage. another three years later we had a 
son. He, by the way, was also a bedwetter but I handled it much better 
and he out grew it at age 7 . I never even once punished him for it and 
never threatened to put him in diapers. I was having a personal battle 
with my feelings about diapers and at age 24 attempted suicide over 
them. I was too stupid to pull it off. The Air Force never found out 
about it but I decided I need counseling. I felt that I was a man and 
that men didn't like diapers. Men should like football and beer and 
chase women.
	well after several years of counseling and a good understanding 
from a great wife I no long have bad feeling about my baby self. my 
wife of 12 years now gets me In my jammies at night and does it with 
loving care and I couldn't be happier.. the only thing I learned for 
counseling was that diapers are cheaper and that my mother should rot 
in hell...