My Diaper Punishment
I was born on January 3, 1958 and for the first 5 years of my life, I was kept in diapers. My parents didn't take me out of them before I started school, this by my mothers account as I don't remember back that far. The furthest back I remember is a diaper punishment I got when I was 8. I do recall that I had a soiling problem; if I had to poo, I would hold it in for as long as I could because I was afraid to use the toilet for some reason. When I could no longer hold it, I would end up soiling myself. My usual punishment was a spanking by my father who was a big man and an alcoholic and very violent so a spanking from him was terrible. On a side note, he died in May 2009 and I couldn't have been happier. Anyway, one day at school, I had to excuse myself from class to go to the restroom and rather than sit on the toilet, I tried to hold it, hoping that the urge to go would pass; it didn't and I ended up soiling myself. When I didn't return to class when my teacher thought I should have, she sent the principal in to find me. He found me desperately trying to clean myself up. My mother was called and she in turn, called my father at his work site; he was in the army at the time and homes on a military base are very close together. My father picked me up from school even though we only lived about two blocks from the school. He said nothing to me on the way home. When we walked in the door, my mother calmly told me to go into the bathroom and clean myself up; she would get me some clean clothes to wear. When I finished my bath, I had no clean clothes waiting for me so I yelled out to my mother and she told me, "your clean clothes are out here, just wrap a towel around yourself and come out here." I did what I was told and saw both of my parents sitting on opposite ends of the sofa staring at me and smiling. I started to cry because this, I was sure, was where I was going to get my spanking. My father assured me that I was not going to get spanked and called me over. I slowly made my way to the sofa and he grabbed me and held me down while my mother pinned a cloth diaper on me and pulled on a pair of plastic panties. I cried and screamed, " No! I won't potty in my pants no more! Please don't diaper me!" It didn't do any good. My father told me that if I took that diaper off, I would get the spanking of a lifetime and get put back into them. I didn't know how to unpin baby diaper pins anyway. I was told that if I was going to potty my pants like a baby, I was going to be treated like a baby. I was then forced to go outside in just my diaper and, as I said earlier, homes on an army base are very close together. The doors were locked so I couldn't get back in and soon school was out and all the kids I went to school with, seen me in a diaper and began to tease me endlessly. I was kept in diapers almost 24/7 except, ironically, when I went to school. The next day at school, an older boy tried to prevent me from going into the restroom saying, "babies go in their diapers, go in your diaper baby!" He had no way of knowing that I was not in a diaper at the time. During the next three years, I was kept in diapers by my parents and except for school, I was not allowed to use the toilet. I fought almost every diaper change for awhile but soon got used to it and stopped fighting it. I was also made to sleep in a crib and sit in a highchair for meals and wear a bib. I was made to drink from a baby bottle and my mother would often hire older girls from my school to baby sit me. For three years, I was truly a baby again. When I was finally let out of diapers for good, I continued to soil myself, get spankings and I was repeatedly threatened with being put back into diapers again, but never was. By this time however, I wanted to go back into diapers but never told my parents. Eventually I did stop soiling myself but the desire to wear a diaper again was fully ingrained. When I moved out on my own, I began ordering adult disposable diapers from the Sears catalog but they were cheap and didn't absorb well. As time went on, I discovered (thanks to the advent of the Internet) Angel Fluff diaper Co. and ordered several dozen adult cloth diapers and plastic panties. I also found out that I was far from being the only adult baby in the world. I also discovered several good adult disposable diaper manufacturers and settled on Abena disposables. A number of years ago, I finally got up the nerve to tell my mother that I wear diapers; she told me I needed to have myself committed. I was already fragile, emotionally, at the time due in part to being not yet diagnosed as manic-depressive. This sent me over the edge and I tried to commit suicide. A cop saw me distraught and followed me and when I threw my leg over the railing on a bridge, he pulled me back. I sat in his patrol car and cried like a baby as I told him my story. He assured me that I was not crazy and didn't need to be committed but he did insist that I go to emergency mental health agency to tell them my story and to get into some counseling. He saved my life and we became very good friends after that. My mother still knows that I like wearing diapers but it is a forbidden subject; she doesn't approve but I am no longer insane by her standards. My mother appears to have a selective memory problem because she denies that she forced me into diapers when I was 8.