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Views: 11188 Created: 2007.10.02 Updated: 2007.10.02

Diapered Max

Diapered Max

Summary: Max is a young boy age of six who has never been broken of the habit of wetting at night. While wetting is a regular issue for him his 'adventure' with diapers start when he falls asleep during a Sunday Service and wets his pants at Church.

Intro:

His father without clear motives as to why decides it's time for Max to be put back into diapers. Max of course isn't too happy about the idea at first but slowly he becomes comfortable with wearing diapers fully time and even grows to enjoy wearing them.

The story is written from Max's point of view in a sort of journal form. It moves along at a fairly quick pace that should be enjoyable to read from start to finish without the need to skip ahead to "the good parts".

Part 1:

This story is a story about how I believe I fell in love with wearing diapers.

I was always a bed-wetter, my mother would often say, " was only half potty trained," and that I had not control at night.

When I was younger from birth to five, (I don't really recall before five years old and I hardly recall being five.) I would wet the bed almost every other night. My mother said she expected me to grow out of it and so never worried about my wetting until I was almost five. Back in those days was diapered every night. It wasn't until about mid-way through kindergarten that my mother began to be concerned, and asked my doctor about my nighttime wetting problem. The doctor told her I was normal and would probably grow out of it in a few years. He also suggested that she use rubber sheets and a bedwetting alarm instead of diapers to help encourage me to grow out of it more quickly. I vaguely remember a few nights being woken up by the annoying buzzing sound of the alarm and how much I hated it. I think my mother hated it, too.

The bedwetting alarm helped a little; I still have my star charts that my mother used to keep track of my dry nights and looking at them I can see I did start to wet the bed less often after a while, but I still would wet about once or twice a week up until and into when I was six.

In first grade and was a little ashamed of being a bed-wetter. Back then we didn't have the Internet so my parents didn't know how common it was and I personally felt like I was the only kid in the world with the problem. I never went to any sleepovers, I never had any friends stay the night, and I would hate it when my cousins would stay the night and ask me, or worse, tees me about my bed-wetting.

The following story is how I came to love wearing diapers. The details are not completely clear to me, as the sands of time seem to cover over the memories we did not think to keep from decay. I'll tell this story to the best of my memory and I hope you all enjoy it for what it's worth.

Chapter One: In the beginning

My parents would attend church regularly and I of course was always had to go with them. My church had a Sunday school program and I would often go to Sunday school while my parents would stay out in the large- main room of the church. However Sunday school didn't start until after the worship service, (for those of you that don't know, the worship service is the singing and praising part, and then the preaching would start after that.) The children would go in the back classroom like rooms for Sunday school before the preaching would start.

Well, sometimes during the worship service despite all the live music and singing I would fall asleep in the pew. One Sunday I must have been really tired because I feel asleep in the pew and the next thing I know I was feeling a groggy and being woken up by my father to go with the rest of the children in back to Sunday School. As I was being woke up my father noticed before I even did that I had wet the pew.

My father was obviously a little upset though he didn't yell or raise his voice. He pointed out to my mother, whom I think already had noticed, I was wet and told her to take care of me. She picked me up and took me into the bathroom where she tried to dry me off with paper towels. I started crying and said I didn't want to go to Sunday school and she told me it was all right and that I wouldn't have to. So sniffling I spent the rest of church in the bathroom, my mother left with some paper towels to clean the pew but other then that she stayed with me. My pants eventually dried and we left the bathroom, but I didn't want to go to Sunday school or back out in the main church hall, so my mother and I stayed near the restrooms in the church entrance.

After church my father showed his anger. He was really upset and my mother and father argued about my potty training and me. My father would often get angry with me and give me whipping with the belt when I was a kid, and I thought maybe I was going to get a whipping when we got home, but surprisingly he didn't seem angry with me and the spanking I expected never came. After church we would usually go out to eat at a restaurant but we went strait home that Sunday.

When we got home my father dropped my mother and I off at the house and then left. I thought it was strange. My mother told me to change my cloths and she started to make something for Brunch. I changed my cloths and start playing with my G.I. Joe action figures. I don't know how much time had passed but my father finally came back home, and I thought I was going to get a whipping.

My father came in the house and I remember hearing my mother saying, "Carl No!" to my father and then they started arguing. I didn't pay attention to what they were arguing about, I always tried to ignore it when they argued. Later, I saw my father walk past my bedroom going into his with a package of diapers in his hands. I remember feeling like my heart had stopped.

A week went by and during that week I wet the bed three times, two in a row. I remember my father getting upset from the alarm waking him up and how he complained that it didn't even wake me up. My mother always woke me up if the alarm didn't but my father would often get out of bed and get a drink of water out of the kitchen after being woken up. Those nights my father would stop by the door of my room or the door of that bathroom while my mother was waking me up or taking care of me and he would say, "I have solution to this Mary," he'd shake his finger sometimes and repeat it, "I have a solution to this." Seeing the package of diapers earlier I could guess as well as you can what he meant.

The next Sunday My father kept waking me up if I looked like I was going to fall asleep at while at church. He would shake my shoulder or my foot and tell me to wake up. I went through church and I went to Sunday-School class even though I really didn't want to. I was worried about having to explain where I was last week, even though I ended up never having to. It seemed no one knew what had happened the week before.

Months passed I believe before it happened again, but after those months it did indeed happen again. My father had stopped waking me up every time I was about to fall asleep and it finally happened again that I was sleeping in church and was being awoken with soaking wet pants and a wet pew. My father shuck me awake and said, "That's it!" to me. He told my mother to take care of me and we again went to the bathroom and tried to dry me off and waited church service out and we went home.

When we got home my father was going to spank me by my mother stopped him. He said I had to learn not the wet while sleeping and not to fall asleep during church. My mother managed to talk him out of it but he was very upset for the rest of the day.

When night came bedtime when as usual, I feel asleep as usual, but in the middle of the night I remember being woken up and my mother and father were putting a diaper on me. I didn't really have a chance to realize what was going on until the diaper was already on. I tried to take it off but my father took me and placed my diapered bottom on my knee told me I would have to wear it until I stopped wetting the bed. I started crying and sobbing and was put on my bed and told to go back to sleep, and of course, to not take off the diaper.

I woke up the next morning and for a moment didn't realize I was wearing a diaper. I was in shock then for another moment when I realized I was. It was dry; I had not wet the bed that night. I began to take it off when my father came in and asked me how I slept. I told him fine and then he asked me if I was wet, and I said no. He then said, "Good, then lets get to breakfast." I asked him if I could change, and he said he would change me after breakfast. I didn't catch his wording until after breakfast when I discovered what he meant by change me was that he would "change me", or change my diaper. I sat through breakfast feeling very embarrassed and I ate fast but my father wouldn't let me leave the table until everyone was finished. That wasn't how it normally worked, but he was making me wait for him to finish, I think he wanted to make me wait longer for a reason.

So, after breakfast when he was finished and said I could go I ran into my bedroom and went to my dresser to get some underwear to change into, but when I opened the drawer up I found that all my underwear were gone and the whole drawer was replaced with diapers. I shouted across the house as children do and asked my mom where my underwear was. She replied in my top drawer. I shouted that they weren't when my father came into the room and said, "Yes they are." and then opened the top drawer up and pulled out a diaper.

My jaw must have dropped. I remember my brain racing trying to think of something to say, trying to think of an argument, trying to think of a way to play dumb or something but it was obvious to me what he meant and I didn't want to believe it.

My father told me to lay down on my bed and then he began to change me, I began to cry and he told me to stop crying like a baby or he would give me something to cry about. I told him I wanted to wear underwear. His reply way, "These are underwear, you wear them under your cloths." I said I wanted to wear real underwear and he replied that they were real. I tried to argue with him but the argument only lasted for as long as it took him to change my diaper. Then he told me to get dressed and left the room. I sat on the floor for quite a while trying to think of what to do. Eventually he came in and asked me if he had to dress me too, and then helped me get dressed. I didn't like it at all, I felt like I was a baby again.

I was diapered all day every day for the whole week, needless to say I didn't go outside much and I didn't hang out with my friends during the week. I hated when we had to go groceries shopping and my father made me sit in the child seat on the cart and put not one but two packages of diapers in the cart.

The Sunday that came next was the most embarrassing day yet.

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