Diaper MemoriesPosted from my blog Feb 2013.
I've been thinking a lot about how i coped with the forced transition, psychologically. I almost went through stages of fixed greif regarding losing my toileting privledges. I was angry at first and was disbelieving that it was going to be a long-term form of punishment. I would accept it or its function in any form. I held myself until iwas in agony before I would give in and use my diaper. I tried to remove it on numerous occasions which resulted in one horrific punishment I may disclose some other time.
Eventually after this, i had no choice but to try and adjust. It was so hard, harder than you would think, to train myself not to keep holding my urine in until my bladder was full. Time after time we would be out somewhere, and the pain would get so bad id just release....and feel what seemed like a never ending gush of pee flood my diaper. So fast would be the flow that the diaper could not absorb it effectively...i would feel it grow warm, swell then sagg.....before i sensed it was seeping through my leggings, or trickling down my leg, as the diaper refused to hold such a large amount.
I remember us being in a department store the one day, and i was holding myself frantically, unwilling to accept the diaper as part of me and my functioning. It was a hot summers day and i was wearing quite a floaty summer dress to cover the bulge of my diaper. I was trying to hold myself until we got in the car on the way home. Id also got a habit of going in my bedroom, squatting on the rug behind the bed, and letting any leaks absorb into the carpet. This was so my diaper didnt appear to be as swollen as it was, and i would get longer time between changes.
This time it didnt work. I was hot and sweaty and couldnt stand still. I felt a tiny little trickle run out of me and groaned as i knew it wouldnt stop. Sure enough it didnt, i stood rgid to the spot as i felt myself suddenly flood the diaper in a fast urgent stream. I looked panic stricken for my parents, and i had to walk to get alongside them. I couldnt move, i was still peeing urgently, I felt the diaper swelling and bulging outwards between my legs. As i tried to walk, i felt a trickle of pee run down my leg, into my ankle socks, staining them with water. The trickle turned into a small stream and I watched with horror as it turned into a small puddle around my foot. I called out for my dad, already, psychologically, i was learning that my parents were the only ones that could make this better, and i reached out to him.
Dad turned round as mother drifted her way amongst the other shelves. His gaze immediately fell from my stricken face, to the puddle on the floor. I clutched the front of my soaking diaper over my dress and began to turn red with shame. He said..'Karen..her diapers leaked,...we have to go.' He didnt shout but he said it loudly enough for a young couple to turn round and their eyes found me. I clearly wasnt a child and i stared back at them miserably knowing they were tracing the outline of my diaper bulge with their eyes.
I found my dads hand as we hurried out of the store. My dad said in a calm voice.'What have i told you about flooding? You dont hold it, you let it go, then we wont have this problem.' Dad took me in the baby changing room which i hated, and worse still i was diapered standing up from behind, as i was too large to get on the changing table.
Dad mumbled something about getting some plastic pants as he fastened me back up and we then went home after picking my sister up from her friends.
But thats just one memory. There are many more. I soon learned how to let my bladder control go a few days later. As usual i had been holding myself in defiance I guess. I knew id have to let it go sooner or later but i was at home and diaper checks had shown i was still dry and didnt need my usual change.
i went into my room and was just wondering if i should squat on my 'secret' rug and flood, when my dad came in. He announced we were going to get food and he was going to change me now, as I must surely be dirty after all morning with no change. I argued with him, telling him i wasnt dirty or wet and didnt need to go. This seemed to make him suspicious and he ordered me onto the mat regardless.
My bladder strained as he started to open the sides. I clenched as hard as i could as he peeled back the diaper, and rubbed my front to see if i was wet. I dont know what happened for sure next but i think the stimulation just made me let go uncontrollably. I spurted all over his hand a fast stream of pee which was so much, it quickly flooded the plastic mat below me, and the liquid squirled around my naked *** and back.
Dad shouted '****' and smacked my *** hard, which made me clench and expel more pee. I thrashed around in it as he lfited my legs into the air and was trying to mop the pee from under me with my worn diaper.
The pee stained my t shirt and spread up the back. Iw was almost covered with it as he pulled me to my feet. Dad was so angry as he mopped up the pee. He screamed that id done it on purpose and i was going to pay for it. Mom came in and my sister. They had their coats on ready to go. There was me, standing naked from the waist down ina pee stained wet t shirt, and my dad swearing and mopping up a stream of water from the mat.
Dad got angrier as he recanted the story and took his hard leather belt off. He told me to grab onto the edge of the bed with my hands and if i moved it would hurt more. He ripped my t-shirt off me and threw the pee stained part at me. I bent over the bed and bore down as he belted me 6 times for flooding without a diaper on.
My sister asked why i was making daddy mad again. I didnt even reply. Dad let mom re-diaper me as he was too angry. I didnt struggle i didnt want dad changing me, i was grateful for it to be her. Mom told me she could 'see everything' and told me to put a dress on.
So you get the idea about how I learned not to flood, right? I admit, things did get easier when i stopped fighting it like that. i learned to just let it go, so to speak. Im sure anyone else reading this who wears diapers, knows what I mean.
My diaper became a constant part of my body. I always had to consider it, and yes i was careful of my behaviour as being in diaper discipline makes you very reliant of those administering it. I hated sitting in cold pee or poop. If i was sulky, or unresponsive or just had done something wrong, my changes were less frequent. I had too much pride for a while to ask, and sat there until i could have one.
If i was well behaved, polite and did my homework and chores, changing would be more regular, and gentler.
I also realised thinking back over all this, that i went for really long periods of time, being unable to touch my own private parts. I was completely reliant on my parents for my toileting, my hygiene levels and my dignity. As much as i hated being changed, the moment when the diaper was peeled back became the least bad part of it. Ye,s sometimes i would involuntary pee as it was removed, and as I got older, ******, but that was dealt with very matter of factly, but with a human hand touching me. I admit it. After not being able to touch and explore yourself, its so hard not to enjoy any hand touching you intimately, even if you are ashamed.
I was told a couple of years in that i had 'pubic hair' but had never seen or felt it, so i didnt know what it was. All i knew was that my parents both said it, and took more time cleaning me than before.
Some people have asked me if it bought me and my parents closer together. Yes, it did, but not in the right way. I became very conscious not to upset dad whilst i was in DD or my life would be made very uncomfortable. I became eager to please him, and never questioned his judgement or authority any more.
If i did something wrong id learn to say sorry as soon as it happened. As time went by, i forgot some of that dignity, and began to see things differently for the sake of my own sanity i guess. Being in DD sort of became normaL. I learned to inform my parents that i had 'filled myself' or 'loaded myself' etc, when i had. I wasnt allowed to ask for a change, but they did encourage me to politely tell them when i voided.
If i was respectful id get changed straight away which was the reason i did it. I so hated loaded diapers.
I learned to assist the process by lifting up my skirt and letting my legs fall apart without being told to. i sometimes held the clean diaper or wipe box if dad handed them to me whilst he was unfastening me after a heavy void.
My sister was in panties and had been for a long while. She always hovered around as i got changed, remarking on what load id done, or if i looked sore. Her innocence made me hate her for a long while and i still bear some resentment now.
Anyway im all reminscied out.
If anyone reads this, have a great night.