How Else Would You Treat A ...

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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...