The following is based somewhat on fact, but is mostly fiction of how I tried to get my mother to diaper me when I was 9 or 10 years old. It didn't work then. However, I've written this in the way I wish things would have turned out.
As I now look back on it, I remember that school seemed to be such a hurried affair. Especially for a boy of 9 or 10. There were always bells going off telling you what time it was, and what you were to do next. The most important bell though was that 3 o'clock bell. The one that signaled the day was over, and it was time to go home.
I lived quite a way from the school I attended, so it was I had to take the school bus to and from school. When the 3 o'clock bell rang, there seemed to be just enough time to get from my last class to my locker, and to the bus, before it pulled out.
One day, during the latter part of my last class, I felt the urge to go to the bathroom. It was one of those times when I knew that if I asked for a pass to go the men's room, class would be over before I could get back to class to return the hall pass. I also realized that there would be no way for me to stop at the men's room after class, and still be able to catch the bus home. I decided to wait until I got home, after all, the bus ride wasn't that long.
On the way home, the urge got stronger and stronger, and by the time I go off the bus, my bowels were straining with every ounce of muscle in them to keep it in until I got home.
About a block from home, I just couldn't hold it any more. I let go in my pants, and it didn't feel as bad as I thought it would. My underpants were holding it against my bottom, and with every step I took I was getting a sensation that I don't ever remember having before.
When I walked in the house, my mother was there in the kitchen, with my younger brother. He was only three at the time, and had had been potty trained only a short time, as I remember.
My mother got angry real quick, and wouldn't even give me a chance to explain what had happened. "Do you want me to put you back in diapers? I still have some from your little brother." I want to tell her yes, but in her mood, I probably would have made things worse, so I said "No." " I was sent to get a bath, wash out my dirty underpants, and then to my room.
You must realize that there had been times that I had tried on my little brothers baby pants. Twice getting caught, and spanked for it. Then there was a time while my mother was changing my little brother that I begged her to diaper me, but she wouldn't.
While in my room I started to think about what my mother had said. "The next time this happens, I'm going to put you back in diapers." I kept thinking, and a plan started to form in my head. What if I did mess my pants again, would she really diaper me, would I also get to wear a pair of baby pants. The more I thought about it, the better it sounded. I started believing that I had finally found a way for my mother to diaper me.
I started thinking about it almost every day, but either didn't have to mess on my way home, or got scarred at the last second, and held it in until I got home. Then one day, I decided that if I didn't do it now, there would never be another chance. My mother had been using my brothers old diapers as dust cloths, and cleaning rags, and shortly there wouldn't be anything left. So, after getting off the bus, and away from my friends, I let go.
On the way home I started having second thoughts about this whole thing. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. As I entered the house, I noticed that my mother was in the living room. I decided to go around through the library, to avoid her. The stairway going up to my room was between the living room and the library. As I rounded the corner, and started upstairs, my mother stopped me. She asked me a few questions, and then all of a sudden, a look came over her face that I'll never forget. "You messed in your pants again didn't you?" There was nothing I could say except "Yes". "Do you remember what I told you the last time you did this?". Again, "Yes" "Well, I guess that's what you want me to do then isn't it?" I found myself saying "No", and to this day I don't know why, because I wanted to be diapered so much. "Get upstairs, and wash out those dirty underpants, get a bath, and stay in your room until I decide what I'm going to do."
While washing out my underpants, I heard my mother on the telephone talking with my aunt, who lived just a few blocks away. She was talking pig-latin to her, thinking that I didn't understand what she was saying. My sister and I had figured out that silly language a year or two before. Anyway, she was asking my aunt if she could borrow some diapers, and large rubber pants, and explained why. My aunt must have said OK because my sister went to get them.
As I laid in my room, I started thinking again about being diapered, and by the time my sister got back from my aunts house, I was ready.
Shortly after my sister arrived back in the house, my mother came up to my room carrying a small stack of diapers, and rubber pants. "Do you know what these are" my mother asked. "There baby diapers." "That's right" she said, "and I think that I should put one of them one you right now, what do you think." I was too excited looking at those wonderful diapers and pants to say anything. "Well", my mother said again, breaking in on my thoughts, "Do you want me to put one of these diapers on you, or are you going to stop messing in your pants like a two year old?" "I don't know", I said. At that my mother became so angry that she yelled "What do you mean you don't know. If you don't know, then I am assuming that your not going to stop this, and I better put one of these on you. Is that what your telling me?" I could only reply with "I guess so."
The next few minutes were both agony, and ecstasy. Agony in that the way my mother was treating me was anything but the loving way I saw her diaper my brother, and ecstasy in that I was at least getting diapered.
After she had me lay on the bed, she slapped my bottom from the side and told me to lift my legs up so she could get the diapers under my bottom. That done, she was powdering me saying things like, "We don't want the baby to get a diaper rash so we have to powder him. Maybe I should have gotten a baby bottle from your aunt as well, it seems that if we are going to have a new baby in the house he should be treated like a new baby, and new baby's drink from bottles." After the diapers was pinned in place, next came the rubber pants. "I guess we better put these on you as well, you never know what a baby is going to do in his diapers, and we don't want baby to mess up the furniture do we. Now you go down stairs a play for awhile."
When I arrived down stairs, my sister and brother were staring at me. My sister started to laugh at her big brother in baby diapers and rubber pants.
I stayed in diapers that evening, and one time when I had to pee, I was told to use my diapers, that's why I had them on. While getting ready for bed, my mother came in and changed me, more lovingly this time, and explained that big boys are not supposed to mess their pants, that they aren't supposed to want to wear diapers like baby's, and if I ever messed in my pants again, I would get the same treatment." For tonight I was to wear a diaper to bed, and if it was dry in the morning, she would take it off, if it was wet, I would have to continue wearing diapers. "Not to school?" I asked. "If this diaper is wet in the morning, I change you and send you to school in diapers, along with some clean ones and a note to your teacher explaining what has happened, and that she should change your diaper if necessary.
I decided right then and there that I would keep dry that night, even though I wanted to stay in diapers. I never messed in my pants again, until of course I became the Big Baby I am today.