Tommy’s Diaper Time

 

            My name is Thomas B. Everyone has called me Tommy for as long as I can remember. I’m 27, live in New York, and work in healthcare. I’ve been reading stories on your site for about 4 years, I think. My all-time favorite is Second Chance (discontinued), primarily because it embellishes my boyhood to a degree.

 

            I was born in 1979 in upstate New York. I was adopted shortly after by the greatest family ever. I never knew as a child why I was not wanted by my birth mother, but now looking back, I really don’t care. My family is here, and I have no desire to know my birth parents…ever. My father worked in sales, retiring six years ago at the ripe old age of 56. My mother is a seventh grade teacher, and willing to give it one more year before retiring. I have two older sisters, Kate and Randi. Kate is ten years older than me, Randi eight years older. The both live locally and I see them all the time, as well as my nieces and nephew.

 

            My diapered boyhood started the day I was born (that’s a joke). Skipping ahead, I was not potty trained (during the day) until I was 4. I had night time accidents until puberty, which was about the middle of my thirteenth year. Mostly wetting, with occasional pooping. I went through the gambit of tests to find a physiologic cause, then a psychological cause, and once those were exhausted, I continued to wet the bed. Rather than subject me to trying this, or doing that (essentially trying to stop my wetting), my mom and dad dealt with it in what I now view to be the best way possible. Rather than working against my wetting, they worked with it, by keeping me comfortable and ensuring I got a full nights sleep. I wore diapers to bed. You have to think back, goodnights weren’t around yet, this was the 80’s and early 90’s. Of course there were a few nights when I didn’t wear them, like when I fell asleep early and no one remembered. The longest stretch I didn’t wear diapers was when I was 9. I suffered a ruptured appendix and spent three and a half weeks in Pediatric Intensive Care, barely alive for half of that. The reason I didn’t have a diaper on (as one might’ve expected) is because of the Foley catheter inserted into my bladder, and rectal tube (well, it’s pretty self explanatory) took care of my wastes. I don’t remember much of the ordeal; I know what I know now from my family and the pictures they took. Anyway, back to the subject at hand. Diapers were completely normal for me I guess. I had worn them for as long as I can remember, so wearing them to bed was no big deal. From family photos, I wore Luvs and Pampers until I was 10. I still fit in them at that age (barely, and I was a runt of a kid, only 80lbs at 12 yo). At 10 I started wearing youth diapers, mostly due to the increased fluid capacity, and the better fit. Again, based on family photos, they were Attends. I remember getting diapered quite well. Usually after my bath, someone would get me in a diaper and ready for bed, even though I got to stay up for a little while. My dad didn’t do it very often. I don’t think it’s that he didn’t want, it’s more like he made sure he was the last in line to do it. When my mom was busy, Kate took up the task mostly. When she left for school, Randi filled in for mom, who was a coach for the cheerleading team in the winter (for basketball) and PTA member. She was home most nights, but that didn’t necessarily mean she diapered me. She worked a long day, and my sisters realized that, and took one extra burden (if that’s what it was) off her shoulders. For that I am grateful to them. I do remember wearing cloth diapers and plastic pants when I ran out of baby and later youth diapers. These were not really my favorite, primarily because it was hard to put my knees together when I lay down in bed. The rest of the time it was the classic disposable diapers, with the very crinkly plastic outer layer. The prints were not as elaborate as they are now either, but hey, you can’t win’em all. My sisters bathed me a lot, which I thought was always fun. I knew I was the baby in the family, and cute too. It’s hard to not let it go to your head when people see a 7 year old boy in a diaper, and go “oh, isn’t he adorable” and me grinning ear to ear as they do. They bathed me until I was 12, which may seem weird to most, but it’s all I knew. I don’t think it was inappropriate even now. The way I see it, I was the center of attention for 45 minutes. They would play with me (with my bath toys that is) and I felt like I was wanted. I knew I was adopted, so for them to interact with me so much the way they did meant everything to me. After my bath, they’d get me dry and take me to my room and get me ready for bed. I know where I get my love for the smell of baby powder, from this! If they weren’t using powder, it was baby oil, to which I had no objection. I’d be lying if I said I liked the way they touched my penis when I was diapered. Never inappropriate or abusive, but always gentle and thorough. Let me explain: at this point, I am pure boy, which means when a summer breezes would hit my penis, I’d get an erection. A soapy hand during bath time and an oily or powdery hand at diaper time were certainly no different. It would often produce a little smirk or giggle from my sisters or mom, and several giggles from me. Rare was the time I didn’t reach down and play with my penis and scrotum, usually when someone was cleaning the powder or oil off their hands or grabbing a diaper. What can I say, it felt good. Once I was all diapered up, I’d get whatever jimmies were appropriate based on the season on, and head down to watch some TV with the family for an hour before bed time.

 

            Jammies were my all time favorite: sleepers! In the winter that is. I own 5 pairs of sleepers now, in my adult size too! In the spring and fall, a t shirt, or long sleeve shirt, with a sleeper thrown in here and there. Summer was a diaper only, or maybe a t shirt, I have the pictures to prove it (blackmail photos for sure, no doubt will surface on my wedding day :p). Morning was kinda the reverse of night. I’d get myself up if I could, get some cereal and watch some cartoons before someone stripped me out of the diaper and cleaned me up. During the day I wore underpants like all the other boys. There were plenty of times I wore diapers during the day. If I was home from school sick, I was kept in a diaper till I felt better, which in hindsight was pretty convenient for everyone. Then there were the vacations. Not until I was 11 did I not have to wear a diaper on vacation. You’ve never been embarrassed until at the age of 10 your mom pulls the back of your shorts out and slides her hand in for a squeeze of your diaper. At Cedar Point in Ohio, that was me. The reason I got was “you can’t stay in that (wet diaper). Besides, no one knows you here anyway.” I didn’t get changed in public (there), but it was the idea I guess. Whenever we had a trip somewhere, it was diapers for me. I didn’t like it at the beginning of the trip, but after the first day I got used to it I suppose. The one place I know I didn’t mind (although I’ve never admitted it to my family, principle, you know) was at our lake cottage. On one of the Finger Lakes in western New York we had a cottage that we went to a few times a summer. It was (at the time) semi-private with trees flanking both sides of the property and a pebble beach. I must have nudist genes, because (laughing now actually) I didn’t wear much when I was there. I swear my mom probably packed one t shirt, one pair of sandals, a hoodie, maybe a pair of shorts, and eight diapers for the whole week for me. I loved it! Warm/hot summer days and a lake to cool off in, what else does a boy need (besides food and diapers :p) I didn’t have to wear anything if I didn’t want to, as long as I peed off to the side in the lake (away from the swimming area) and made it to the toilet to poop. People saw me for sure (which is pretty exciting now that I think about it). I challenge anyone to say a naked little boy isn’t cute in that context. I did that right until I started to grow hair down there and consequently became self conscious (darn). The same was true for the backyard in the summer. We had an above ground pool that I wore a suit in maybe twice. But I digress again. I wet nearly every night, and pooped (at night) about a few times a month. I was usually upset in the morning when I felt the poop in my diaper. I felt like a baby all over again. The peeing is pretty normal for a kid, especially a boy. But the pooping was something else. It was almost humiliating. Not that anyone made me feel that, it was just an internal struggle. As puberty progressed, my wetting ceased. I gradually stayed dry more nights than not, and I said goodbye to my wonderful boyhood in diapers and began my life as a young adult. I now wear diapers to bed every night, powdering and oiling just like when I was young. I wear the same jammie ensembles too. I loved wearing diapers as a boy, and wouldn’t change it for a thing. I felt secure, knowing I was gonna stay dry, and in the winter, I’d be cozy and warm (from not laying in a wet bed) in my snug diapers. I loved (and still love) the sound they make, the plastic crinkling as I walked around or tossed in bed). The expression of love my family showed me, by diapering me for my own comfort and security is one of the few true expressions of love I know. I love them with all my heart.

 

            I’d like to thank you Deeker for your encouragement to tell my story of boyhood in diapers, albeit minor encouragement. I feel great after sharing this with someone (other than my family). I have read many stories on your site, so I say this with the utmost sincerity: I did not make this up. I’m sure this sounds like it’s straight out of a story. That’s why I love Second Chance. It adds some fantasy that although I didn’t have as a boy, I now have as an adult remembering those times. I was not treated like a baby with bottles and pacifiers and such. I was treated like 100% boy. I’d be glad to answer any questions you have, or if you’d like more details on anything. I don’t know if I’d like to post this, it is pretty personal. I’m gonna think about it. I apologize if it’s lengthy, but I couldn’t stop. Reliving that time in my head is so enjoyable. I look forward to hearing back from you. Thanks.

 

-Tommy