My very first discipline with diapers experience is one I do not remember. Mother told me I had been out of diapers for a year or so and did something to call for a spanking. This would have made me about three years old. Mother told how she pulled my pants down and put me across her lap. After a couple spanks I lost control of my pee- pee. Perhaps I needed to pee-pee or possibly it was due to pain and fear, but anyway I wet on her lap.

She was not pleased and I had to be punished. Mother was also afraid that I would "piddle" later and damage furniture so she put me back into diapers for a few days. She said that I did not seem to mind and would tell her when I had to go. When you are three years old diapers are nothing to be concerned about and wearing them did even register in my memory. Soon the episode was history because I stayed dry and the diapers were put back to use on my ten-month-old baby brothers.

However, I can vividly remember diapers when I was four and a half years old. I experienced my mother's brand of discipline. It was simple, direct, and intense humiliation! In later years mother would call it, "diaper discipline."

She would with great satisfaction relate my transgressions and resultant punishments to my playmates. Then she would point out that misbehaving children were really only babies who should be dressed and treated as the babies they are. She would to say this to me in the hearing of my friends and playmates on many future occasions.

My first and most traumatic disciplining event took place one summer evening when our home was scheduled to be the scene of a festive gathering of family and close friends.

Most of my cousins and their families were coming and several close neighbor families with their children as well. We were going to have a house full of people and a wonderful time. Everyone I knew in the world was coming.

My mother got me all dressed up in good clothes and sent me out into our big fenced-in back yard to entertain myself and wait for the guests to arrive. Above all, I was to stay neat and clean until the people would start arriving. I remember being very excited and happy about the occasion.

But while at the far back fence I happened to look down at the front of my pants and although I had no history of pants wetting it had just happened. Horror stricken, I noticed a dark wet blotch growing on the front of my nicely ironed light blue short pants. I had been completely unaware of wetting.

It was a busy time for my mother as supper must have been about ready to serve. She was making the final adjustments and putting the last minute touches to the table before serving. The guests were to soon arrive.

When I went back up to the back porch my doubtlessly harried mother saw my wet pants and told me that I was to come with her. Since I had acted like a baby I certainly needed to be dressed like a baby. She said words I have heard in my memory all my life since then, "Since you want to act like a baby I am going to have to dress you like a baby."

I needed consolation and reassurance but I got condemnation. I was taken into my nearly two and a half- year-old baby brothers' room and placed upon the changing table.

There she removed my shoes and socks, my shirt, then my shorts and underpants. Naked, I felt the cool air on my wet bottom and the coolness of the washcloth as she prepared to diaper me. She fastened a strap over me, as I lay on the table naked. Crying, I begged her not to put diapers on me. After all, the other children would see me and I was a big boy of four and a half. I begged to no avail.

I felt her left hand take hold of both my ankles and lift them up as the diapers were placed under my behind. She put me down on the diapers and then oiled and powdered me. Then I felt the softness of the diapers being pulled up between my legs and her hand's strength as she pinned my diapers up on either side. I begged for her to take the diapers off me, but she said, "no, let's go." She then picked me up and stood me up on my bare feet on the cool wood floor while taking my hand in hers to lead me out to greet the first of our guests.

I must have cried until I became hysterical because all I remember for the rest of the afternoon and evening is people laughing at me. I cried and tried to hold myself so that my diapers could not be seen. Good luck to me on that. "I thought that you were a big boy," was said frequently.

The evening is mercifully a blur but I believe that I was taken to the potty, changed and put to bed when everyone tired of hearing my desperate crying. I must have cried myself to sleep. Mother later on told me that I was told not to wet my diapers that night and that if I did I would be changed into dry diapers in the morning. I would not get any big boy clothes back `until I was no longer a baby."

I was dry the next morning but crushed in spirit and filled with embarrassment. My mother now knew what punishment I most feared. My father used to be the one who punished me but now his spankings were easy by comparison to mother's discipline. Now she clearly knew how to control me.

I was diapered and threatened with diapers at times after that. But I was diapered only infrequently and for short periods over the next few years.

I am sure now that my mother told others of my fear and her easy way to control me. One of the people she told must have been our good neighbor lady, Mrs. Jones.

I was seven and a half years of age the next time I remember a particularly outstanding experience with diapers. My mother was to take my two brothers to town; (doctor's office and other proceedings, etc.) were to take all day.

I was to stay with Mrs. Jones and her two girls: my playmate of seven, Jean, and her younger sister, a two and a half-year-old baby, named Susan. I liked Jean and had never teased her as many of the other kids had about her middle name, "Morton." "Morton" had been her mother's maiden name. I didn't care and thought she was a nice girl. Pretty too!

I walked across the street to their house from mine as my parents drove off taking my two younger twin brothers. Dad was going to work and mother and my brothers to their day's doings. Dad's car disappeared up the street and out of sight. That car and its occupants would not return until day's end.

The first fun thing for us to do that sunny morning was a trip to the swimming pool down at the city park. Arriving at the park we walked over to a nearby picnic area that was handy to the pool. Jean immediately stripped off her clothes. She stepped into her bathing suit but Mrs. Jones had to help with her swimsuit. Her suit zipped up in the back and Jean could not do it herself. All zipped up, her mother sent Jean off to play at the pool that was about 30 feet away.

All dressing was done outdoors as there were no dressing rooms for little kids because this pool was for babies and pre-school children. Next she placed her baby, after her diapers had been removed and laid on the table, into a training panty with baby pictures (like bunnies and bears, etc.) printed on them. Susan was placed into the custody of a teenage girl who was the "lifeguard" there at the little children's' pool.

This left Mrs. Jones alone with me. I did not have a bathing suit and thought when she started to undress me that she had a suit for me too. This was great because I loved the water and wanted to join in the fun with the other children. I had not been forgotten after all.

After removing my shoes and socks and tee shirt, she laid me down on a green painted picnic bench. I felt my pants and underwear being removed and soon the old familiar left handed grip on both my ankles at once. She lifted my bottom and I felt the softness of Susan's two diapers folded together being placed under me.

I must have clouded up to cry for she said, "Don't cry! I am baby sitting you today. That means you must be a baby. All babies wear diapers and since you are a baby you are supposed to wear diapers."

I was now able to stifle the urge to cry because I knew that crying would not help me but only draw attention to me. I didn't want the other children and their mothers to notice the diapers I would soon have on. Especially since the diapers she was putting on me were the very ones she had just taken off the two-and-a-half year old baby girl and refolded a little to fit me.

After she drew the diapers up between my legs and pinned them she told me that I looked "so cute." Taking my hand she led me over to the pool and helped me in and I sat down as soon as I could in water deep enough to cover up the diapers.

Two other mothers there kindly smiled at me but said nothing to me as I sat down in the pool. They doubtlessly thought it a bit unusual for a boy my age to be still in diapers and presumably not be potty-trained. However, none of the other children said anything to me about my diapers or even seemed to notice them.

The other children, two boys of about four and five years of age and five girls ranging in age from two, three and five, and two my age, splashed in the water while I just sat there covering up my diapers. I must have been in shock.

Later one lady left with her children and in a short while so did the other mother. That left only the Jones children and me. When it became time for us to go Mrs. Jones first called my seven-year-old playmate out of the pool and helped her out of her swimsuit. Jean dried off and put on her regular play clothes. Next Mrs. Jones took the baby out and dried her off putting her into some dry diapers.

It was customary for babies and diaper-aged children to wear only their diapers and nothing else in the summer. The little girl was put under the care of her big sister. Now, it was my turn to get out of the pool and waddle over to the bench in my waterlogged diapers. I stumbled as I tried to get out of the pool when she called me. The lifeguard asked if I was okay and I told her I was.

Was I ever embarrassed - in wet diapers in front of all these girls. The diapers were really so heavy that their weight surprised me. With water pouring out of my diapers I could hardly walk in them. The girls were very interested when they saw me and came with me to their mother.

I toddled over to her and Mrs. Jones dried me off down to the top of my diapers. She brushed my hair to the side with her hand and then laid the towel on the bench and told me to lie down on it. She unpinned my sopped diapers and removed them leaving me embarrassed and naked before the girls' view. Mrs. Jones said, "that never in her life had she seen a baby in a wetter pair of diapers."

She then finished drying me and then loudly said that since it was such a nice day she would just give me two more nice dry diapers to wear and that way I wouldn't have to worry about getting my big boy clothes dirty at play back home. She had the girls help her with the oil and powder on my diaper area then she diapered me. The two and a half year-old asked me if I was a baby while pointing to my diapers. I am sure she was curious because she, as a toddler, associated diapers with babies. I was too big, she figured, to be a baby but if I wore diapers then I must be a baby anyway. I almost lost it and started to cry but I didn't cry. We went back to the car and climbed into the back seat and Mrs. Jones put all our stuff into the front seat. My playmate, Jean, was told to "watch the babies".

I was feeling keen embarrassment but refusing to cry and in my mind justify Mrs. Jones' babying of me. When we got back to the house Mrs. Jones took the little girl with her and my playmate led me by the hand into the house.

My playmate, Jean, insisted that both babies must be thirsty so bottles were made and given to both us "babies." I drank my bottle down as it had Pepsi cola in it and I liked Pepsi. Giving me a fresh baby bottle of Pepsi Jean and I went out into her large stockade-fenced back yard to play. When I finished that bottle Jean got me yet another bottle of Pepsi to guzzle down. I didn't think about the Pepsi's effect on my bladder. I just liked the taste.

After about an hour, it must have been about 10:00 a.m. Jean and I went to the back screen door and asked Mrs. Jones if we could come in to use the bathroom. She told me, "you are wearing diapers. You have to do pee-pee in your diapers- that's what they are for." I told her I had to both pee-pee and poop and she again told me that was what my diapers were for. Jean was allowed in to use the bathroom because "Jean is not a baby in diapers."

I tried to hold it in but soon the Pepsi began to work. As I was stooping down playing in the sandbox the warm pee-pee started coming. Just a few drops at first but soon the floodgate opened and I started to soak my diapers. I couldn't stop it. At first the diapers contained it turning yellow in front but soon pee-pee was coming out through the fabric in the front of my diapers and then in rivulets down my legs. Pee-pee splashed down from my crotch and splattered my legs. The sand then stuck to my feet and lower legs. I never knew that diapers would leak like that. My diapers were simply overwhelmed. Sand stuck to me where I was wet and made me really look and feel like a little baby and then I had to poop before I knew what was happening. I will never forget the feeling of the back of the diaper being filled and the resistance the diapers gave to my bowel movement. I wanted to run and hide.

All I knew was that I was wearing a soaked and pooped diaper in front of my girlfriend. She scolded me for being such a baby. She called out, "Jimmy's got dirty diapers, Jimmy's got dirty diapers" and called her mom who came out and led me back into the kitchen with diapers still dripping as I went. There on the linoleum kitchen floor she laid me down on top of a towel for a changing pad and unpinned my diapers. She cleaned me up having the girls help her. I think she used a bath towel as she cleaned me.

I remember that the baby held my diaper pins and the powder for her mother to use on me. I was so embarrassed to have to be babied like that in front of both girls. With a wash cloth or two she cleaned me up from the waist down to between my sandy toes. I was a mess for sure. I was then taken to the bathroom where I could be washed up the rest of the way in the tub.

Again the girls had helped their mother clean, powder, and change my diapers. Little two and half year old Susan's job was to powder my bottom. She ended up getting powder all over me.

I was now given a fourth baby bottle full of Pepsi. In an hour or so I was called back into the house to see if I was dry. "We don't want our big baby to get a 'dydee' rash on his bottom, do we?" I was dry but my diapers were changed anyway. Mrs. Jones touched the front of my diapers giving me feelings that I had never had before. I liked the rubbing motion that she did on the front of my diapers. I remember the intense pleasure and then the peace. After more play with Jean's little cars and toys in the sandbox it was time for lunch. I remember being careful sitting down in the sandbox because I would get sand into my diapers and that hurt.

Mrs. Jones called and asked Jean to check the baby's and my diapers and see if either of us had wet. She put her hand down the front of each set of our diapers and then pronounced us dry to her mother. It tickled when Jean reached down the front of my diapers and I pulled away from her but she felt enough to know that I was dry. I was beginning to like the ready sexual familiarity I was experiencing although it never occurred to me that it was all one way. I never got to touch either of the girls although it never occurred to me at the time. But it was nice getting their attention. Maybe wearing diapers and having girls take care of you could have a good side...

Soon it was time for lunch. The baby was fed and put into her crib first. Then Jean and I were called in. Jean's place was set for a big kid, but mine had a baby plate and baby bottle. The ceramic plate was pink and had worn out pictures of baby things on it. The plate was hollow and was supposed to be filled with hot water and keep baby's food hot. It was thick and the surface was divided into three sections. But, things were to get worse...

The high chair was still there from the baby and I was lifted into it and belted in. Jean teased me a little and her mother stopped her by telling her that she "had enough diapers to put her back into diapers, too, if she couldn't be good." I was put into a bib and spoon-fed my food by Mrs. Jones. My sandwich was cut up baby style. I felt so babyish sitting in a high chair, wearing only a diaper and bib and being fed with a big spoon that held lot more baby food than I could swallow. This meant a lot of it got smeared around my mouth and chin. I really needed a wash-up after eating.

After lunch I again told Mrs. Jones that I needed to go pee-pee. She again refused to let me go to the bathroom. She now knew I was a heavy wetter so she tried to put a pair of the baby's waterproof panties on me.

I was just a little too big for the baby's panties. She was afraid that the bottom snaps on her panties would tear so Mrs. Jones got some extra diapers and put them under me there in the highchair. I had to stay there until I wet and fortunately Pepsi cola has always gone through me quickly. I wet my diapers and probably all the diapers she put under my diapers.

Again after being ridiculed for being such a big baby, I was washed, oiled, powdered, and re-diapered and taken into her bedroom for a nap. "All babies take naps," she said. Just as a precaution so I would not wet her bed she had me nap on top of a big raincoat. This made sense diapered as I was with no waterproof panties.

As she put me on the bed for naptime she again rubbed the front of my diapers. Again I felt pleasure as before. I am sure I experienced another dry orgasm again.

My diapers were changed several more times that day but I only wet once more that afternoon. I did not tell her I was going to wet that time; I just went ahead and wet. I sat down under the big tree we were playing under and let my diapers leak into the grass. I squeezed my legs together and forced as much pee-pee out of my wet diapers as would go.

I wore my wet diapers for a long time until they began to be cold and uncomfortable. I had to wet again and as I was soaking my diapers Jean noticed and came over to me. Then we went to the back door and told Mrs. Jones that I was wet and needed to be changed. Each time of change was made into a lesson for the girls in male anatomy. My "spigot" was the thing of the day.

I was also changed each time the baby had her diapers changed. She may have pinned the same dry diapers on me that she had just taken off me. I do not know. I had my diapers changed frequently all afternoon and I found that I was enjoying being babied more and more. Ashamed at first I was now enjoying the diapers and the feelings I got from them. Especially when Mrs. Jones rubbed the front of my diapers for me.

I liked the smell of the baby powder and the intimate attentions of the girls as well. Jean especially liked to "check me for wetness." We played "Mommy and baby" and you know who the baby was. I started to enjoy riding in the baby buggy and being babied. Jean would open my diaper pins and pretended to change me. I really liked the experience.

Late in the day, probably about five thirty p.m., I was again called in and told that it was time for me to get ready to go home. Mrs. Jones removed my diapers and I was given a "sponge bath" on my diaper areas to remove any oil and powder residues. Given back my clothes I got dressed in my big boy clothes. Mrs. Jones helped me dress as if I did not know what went where. I never told my mother or anyone about what happened to me that day. There were two reasons: first I was afraid that I would not be believed - and secondly and probably worse yet - told that I had only gotten what I deserved - being dressed and treated like the little baby that I was. I knew better than to expect sympathy from my mother. Strangely, Jean never teased me about that day or even mentioned it for a long time, maybe a month or more.

One sunny afternoon Jean and I were out playing together and she said that she wanted to play "mommy, daddy, and baby" with me. I told her no way, that I was not a baby and wasn't going to play like one. Jean then told me that if I didn't let her baby me first that she would tell all our friends about me wearing diapers that day. A few days later she brought the subject up again and told me that she wanted to play baby with me right then and to come with her. She took me into her baby sister's bedroom and told me she wanted to put a diaper on me and give me a bottle. I was scared of being caught but pulled my pants off and lay down on Susan's bed to be diapered. While she was powdering and pinning my diaper Jean said that we would play "daddy and baby" next and it would be my turn to diaper her and give her a bottle. She diapered me and then I pulled my shorts on over the diaper. My shorts easily came back up over the one diaper Jean had pinned on me. We then went by the kitchen where she went to the refrigerator and got a bottle of formula to feed to me in the back yard. I had the bottle about half done when we heard her mother coming and hid the bottle behind the sandbox.

Mrs. Jones asked what we were doing and Jean told her we were playing and looking at a magazine. A "Life" magazine happened to be there on a big wooden chair. Mrs. Jones told Jean that I had to leave right then because they were going to Raleigh to go shopping. Mrs. Jones left to get the baby ready and Jean slipped in and got me my underpants back but I had to leave still wearing the diaper. I was to drop the diaper back over the fence when I could get out of it. I went into the woods and took the diaper off and put my underpants back on and started back home. On the way back from the woods I tossed the diaper over their fence so it would look like Susan had just carried it there. We never played baby again. I guess that our close call at being caught by her mom cured Jean of any more attempts at blackmailing me. Besides, it would have been her turn to be the baby next time.

Time goes by and my mother does a lot of threatening but diapers me probably once or twice a year until I was ten. At the age of ten I was home alone with mother and failed to obey her fast enough in cleaning up my room. She gave me fair warning but I forgot and was punished with diapers again. I was told to take my clothes off and go lie down on my bed. Mother soon appeared with the diapers and soon had them folded for me. I was then told to raise my rear and the diapers were placed under me. As she diapered me she gave me the speech about acting like a baby and being dressed like a baby. A little powder and then she brought the diapers up between my legs and pinned them. I then cleaned my room and stayed there. The thing that made this punishment noteworthy was that midway through the morning I was told to go to our neighbor's house three houses down and fetch a bag of tomatoes and squash for my mother.

I asked if I could wear shorts over the diapers but I should have known better than to ask for mercy - there would be no mercy! Mother just laughed at me and told me to get going. I left the house by the back porch door and made my way to the neighbor's house by the back yards so no one would see the diapers I was wearing.

I knocked on the door but it seemed to me that Mrs. Hughes was taking forever to come to the door. When she saw me she let me inside quickly and was very amused to see me. Giggling she had me explain why I was still wearing diapers during the day at the age of ten. I explained that I was being punished. She gave me a sugar cookie and in baby talk and tones said, " that everything would be okay because punishments make us better." I am not sure what she meant.

Mrs. Hughes had the tomatoes and stuff together in a paper bag for me but phoned my mother to ask if it would be all right if she fed me a little snack with her child. My mother obviously agreed and I was told to go sit by the playpen beside the sofa. In a few moments she returned with her ten-month old daughter and put her in her carrier in the playpen. I was then told to sit in the playpen too. The baby was given her gum soother from the refrigerator and I was given a little bottle of apple juice. I told her I was not a baby and did not use bottles. She told me that "since I wore baby diapers I could certainly drink from baby bottles." I was told to drink it all down and be nice and obey or she would have to pull my diapers down and give me a "panking." She said she would tell my mother that " I had been a naughty baby at her house."

Mrs. Hughes teased me a lot. As soon as I could I finished the little bit of juice in the bottle and asked to leave. I was then given some animal crackers to eat. She told me I was a "good little boy" when they were gone. After I finished my four animal crackers she asked if I was thirsty. I told her I was but that I didn't want another baby bottle - even a little one like I had drunk.

She then helped me up out of the playpen and sat me on her lap on the sofa. She explained that her baby was teething and had been unable to nurse for the past few days. Her breasts were sore and leaking from too much pressure. She gently laid my head back and from her unbuttoned blouse popped a nipple in my mouth before I knew what was happening. She told me to nurse it very gently. I did as she said and warm sweet fluid just shot into my mouth. In a few minutes I got the hang of it and just sucked away and listened to her heartbeat. In a little while "it was time," she said, "to do the other side." This breast was easier to nurse than the first because it had already started to leak enough for her to have to hold a spare diaper over the nipple to save her blouse.

Suddenly, I felt some wetness in my diapers. She felt me wet, too, and told me it was okay. She told me that her baby often did "wettu'ms" during feeding times and that it was only natural. She told me not to worry about wetting on her lap and hand. I didn't wet all that much. She said it was her fault because she knew I didn't have any plastic panties on - just my diapers. She told me I could stop nursing in just a few more minutes. Soon the nursing was done to her satisfaction and she was happy. I stopped and she tucked her breast back into her special front opening bra and buttoned her blouse.

I could not help crying about wetting my diapers so she asked me if I wanted her to change me and I told her "yes, please, because I am wet and will get in trouble with my mother for wetting." Mrs. Hughes then told me to lie down on the sofa and she would change my diapers and my mother would not be told I had wet since I had been so nice to her.

She unpinned my wet diapers and washed my front with a wash cloth. She said she was not used to "diapering babies my size" so she used the diapers she took off me as a pattern by which to fold and pin the dry ones. She then placed the fresh pair of Curity 21x40 diapers under me. A little powder and then she and pinned me up. After she changed me she "checked" my diapers with her hand "to see if my diapers were too loose." All done with my diaper change she tossed my wet diapers in a pail near the playpen. In baby talk she told me to "be careful going home" just like I was a real two year old.

I took off for home returning without anyone seeing me. On the way home I fully realized that I had nursed that lady's breasts and I felt very babyish and embarrassed. I know I must have blushed beet red all over. Lucky for me my mother never suspected anything probably figuring that I was just embarrassed about wearing the diapers outside.

Mother asked me what I had for my snack and I told her "some apple juice, milk, and animal crackers." I didn't dare lie to her but I didn't volunteer any other information. I don't think she knew about the bottle and breast and I never wanted to give her any ideas. By the time for lunch was over my bladder was full from all the milk I had gotten from Mrs. Hughes but I was able to hold it and not wet my diapers.

Once I fell out of a pine tree and knocked the pee-pee out of myself and wet my pants but mother took that in stride and did not diaper me for that wetting. She must have figured that the pain I was in was punishment enough.

I usually was dressed only in diapers during discipline but I remember once at the age of eleven she weakened and mercifully let me wear a tee shirt with my diapers. It was early spring and she probably did not want me getting sick. I was grateful for the shirt because it was long enough to cover up the top half of my diapers and it helped keep me warm. I could even stick my knees up under the shirtfront when I sat down. I can't remember what I did this time to make my way back into diapers again.

As I remember this session lasted most of the day and I was afraid that my little brothers would see me. I stayed under the house or in my room, as mother would allow until she finally took the diapers off me.

She believed in diaper discipline for a variety of things: for sassing her, for bed or pants wetting, or saying that I didn't like any new food, not obeying quickly, or lying. From the age of seven until thirteen my diaperings were most usually for bedwetting, except once for disobedience and once for sassing.

For sassing mother, and I can't remember what I did or said, but I was volunteered by my mother to be the Baby New Year at our neighborhood association's New Year's Eve party.

This was when I was twelve years old. All my dread and fear of being punished in front of the whole neighborhood turned out to be groundless. In fact, the days of dread turned out to be my only punishment for whatever my crime had been. Mother would tease me telling me she had not yet decided whether she would diaper me at the party or privately beforehand at home or whether or not I would be in diapers all the following New Year's Day.

I had visions of her putting me into my diapers on right on stage. As it worked out, she diapered me there at the school in the ladies' restroom. She led me by the hand into the ladies' room and told me to take my clothes off and lie down on a big brown leather sofa. No one came in the room while she diapered me. I felt fortunate because I was afraid one of the girls would come in and get to watch mother diaper her little baby.

The occasion turned out to be a fizzle as a punishment. Well diapered I walked with mother down the hall dressed in a top hat, sash, and five diapers (she wanted them thick and bulky) toward the auditorium. I was in great fear of being seen but it quickly became apparent that every one thought of my diapers as only a part of my New Year celebration costume. Besides, some of the other boys said that they wanted a turn to wear the diapers, too.

Being quick witted, I turned a potentially embarrassing situation to my favor. The boys were filled with curiosity. They wanted to know what the diapers felt like and if I could go to the bathroom in them. I was a sort of a celebrity at the party.

Even the girls thought I was brave and cool to wear real baby diapers to play Baby New Year. They teased and asked if they could change my diapers for me. "Sure," I told them but I am still dry, but I'll call you when I am wet." I would have liked for them to have changed me but I knew my mother never would let any girls my age or even close change me. No one would change me but her. Besides, I was not about to wet and incur her wrath if I could help it.

Interestingly, I noticed that my best friend, Tommy, seemed just fascinated and could not take his eyes off my diapers. Tommy knew that I wore diapers as punishment from time to time and told me that I was lucky to have a mother who would put diapers on me. When we became thirteen he later got to enjoy the "luck" with me. I suppose I did cut a dashing figure in my diapers, top hat, and New Year sash handing out candy and party favors to everyone and calling out, "Happy New Year."

When the program was over and we went the few blocks back home and I was put to bed. I was still in my diapers and was told that if they were wet in the morning I would get a change and have to wear them all day. Again, I was dry in the morning when she came in to check me. I had purposely not had anything to drink at the party for fear of this. I remember trying to sleep with all those diapers on. It was surprisingly hard to find a comfortable position and also to get calmed down from the New Year's party.

My diaper sessions were usually done in private between mother and me, but she would rarely miss an opportunity to embarrass me. She would tell my friends on occasion of what she had done to me in times gone by. They would be regaled at my expense. At least they did not know or even suspect that my punishments with diapers yet continued.

As a teen most of my diaperings came about when I would wet and try to hide the wet bedclothes in the washer. Mother would catch me and tell me to load the washer and go to my room and take my pants off and wait for her. I didn't wet that often but mother would make a "federal case" out of each and every occurrence.

I would know what was coming but she would keep me in anxiety for a while then she would come into my room with a few diapers in one hand and pins and powder in the other. I would try not to look, as she would fold the diapers together and lay them out on the bed beside me. She would then tell "baby" to roll over on his tummy and powder would go on his cheeks. Then "baby" was rolled back over onto his diapers for powder and pinning. I hated exposing myself as I had to when she made me spread my legs and keep my hands on my chest.

The diapers were pulled up and pinned tightly and the speech would be given that "baby" would be given big boy clothes if his diapers were dry after the noon meal. This was not easy, as I was not allowed to go to the bathroom after she caught me. I remember once I had to go real bad. I had probably wet the bed early the previous evening and needed to pee-pee and poopies when I woke up. I was not allowed into the bathroom when I awoke and my bladder was full. Even as mother prepared to diaper me I begged to be allowed to pee-pee in the toilet before being diapered. It must have been during cold weather because I had to stay inside the house. She refused and told me I should have thought of going to the bathroom before wetting the bed. This meant that I couldn't sneak under the house and pee- pee. Knowing that I would soon go in my diapers she laid out an old oilcloth tablecloth on the floor picnic style and made me sit on it there in the kitchen where she could keep an eye on me. She told me if I moved the seat of my diapers off the oilcloth that I would be in diapers for another complete day and to test her if I felt brave. This way she figured I could use my diapers and hurt nothing. Her plan worked in about fifteen minutes. I felt the wetness start and quickly spread through out the seat of my diapers. She asked me, "is baby was wetting his little dydees?" "Oh, surely not because he says that he is a big boy but I think that he is a little baby because I can see his bottom is all wet with pee-pee and poopies." The diapers held my poop pretty well but soon the brown stain was spreading all around me on the oilcloth. She teased me and made me sit in my wet, cold, and smelly diapers for a long time. By the time she decided to change me I was wet, cold, and dirty from the waist down. She kept telling me I was acting twelve months old not twelve years old.

I am sure that she was hoping someone would come to visit so I could be "properly" embarrassed in front of him or her in my now soaked and dirty diapers.

After my diaper change Mother then told me that now because I had wet and dirtied myself like a baby I would be in diapers until after supper. If those diapers were wet, I would be changed into fresh new diapers and tested again after breakfast the next day. Mother had at least a couple dozen diapers for me at any time so she would not run short. She kept them in the cedar chest in her bedroom.