Diaper Discipline

This is my bio of my childhood traumas that changed my entire life. Though I can’t offer proof of my experiences, I can only present them as accurately as I can remember. I find it important to validate my experiences perhaps as a way of exposing the true evil some caregivers do to innocent, helpless children.

Being an only child, born out of wedlock, my mother had to board me out with a local family so she could work. The family was still struggling from the Great Depression and took in several boy boarders for extra income. Our ages at the time of my first traumatic experience with diapers was, David the oldest at 13, then Tommy 10, myself at 7 and little Timmy age 5. Occasionally, the mother also took care of a baby though we boys rarely gave her any notice. The family only had one child of their own, Carol Ann, a girl about a year older than myself. Though she wasn’t that much older than me, she kept me fearful of her as her mother always took her word in whatever she’d say over us boys. She really hated having to share her home with us and would occasionally get us into trouble if we didn’t do her bidding or let her play with what few toys we had.

As for her mother, she was a very stern, no-nonsense woman in her mid-thirties and very controlling to us boys but not with her daughter. Even her husband never questioned or interfered with how she ran the house or us. Being a local farmer with several plots of land to tend to, he was seldom home until well after we boys had gone to bed. The main memory I have of him was his ‘Prince Albert’ pipe tobacco. He kept a large canister on his roll top desk in the den and we boys loved the smell and would sometimes sneak a whiff of its aroma. If he caught us, we’d get scolded but nothing more.

I remember the first time I felt the full wrath of the daughter’s merciless hatefulness and it still makes me shake whenever I think back to that fateful day. We boys were playing ball in the backyard and I accidently threw the ball crooked and it hit her. She quickly ran in the house crying and told her mother I had deliberately hit her. I was called in and though I pleaded it was an accident, her daughter insisted I did it on purpose. As usual, she believed her and became angry. I was so scared, I started to cry and began to shake uncontrollably. Without warning, I began to wet my pants as they both looked on in disbelief. I was really terrified now as I hadn’t had an accident since I was a toddler. Shaking her head with disgust, the mother began shouting what a disgraceful little boy I was. Her daughter, on the other hand, thought it funny and burst into laugher while calling me a little baby over and over. I don’t know if that is what caused her mother’s anger to change but she also began to laugh as she repeated her daughter’s comment of my being a baby for wetting myself.

That’s when I heard the fatal words from her daughter. “It’s too bad he wasn’t wearing diapers since he’s still wetting himself like a baby.” The instant she said the word ‘diapers’, I felt overcome with pure terror as I pleaded for forgiveness but the idea was already planted in her mother’s mind. Starring into my frightened eyes, a large Calico smile slowly spread across her face as she turned to her daughter and said, “I think you’re right, dear. Go bring me a couple of the baby’s diapers and some diaper pins so I can get this little baby properly dressed.” I instantly became hysterical and screamed for her to stop as she grabbed my arm and dragged me into the living room. Fetching a changing pad nearby, she spread it across the floor while my head whirled in horror. The moment she reached out to remove my clothes, I started fighting in panic only to get several slaps until I stood there helplessly crying in just my wet underpants.

My eyes were filled with horror as her daughter returned and gleefully handed her the diapers. “Get yourself down on the pad now.”, she demanded gruffly as I dropped in dread. Kneeling at my feet, she forced me onto my back as her daughter stood by and watched. “Looks like we have another baby to take care of.”, she chuckled as if finding pleasure in my pending transformation. Though I struggled to keep my underpants on, I was no match as she quickly yanked them off, removing my last shield of defense. Grabbing the diapers, she refolded them to fit my larger frame and ordered me to lift my bottom. Threatened with a spanking for resisting, I tearfully raised up while she slipped the humiliating garment under me. I could hardly see from my tear drenched eyes but could make out her daughter looking down and grinning with devilish delight. I stared up at the ceiling wishing someone would come rescue me as I felt the soft fabric being pulled up between my legs. Raising my head, I looked down just as she gathered the first corners together and pinned them securely with one of the pins. My whole world was spinning as she pulled the other corners snug across my stomach and finished locking me in my shame.

I felt dazed as she struggled to pull me to my feet. “Oh! Doesn’t he look cute in his diapers. He looks just like a real baby.”, Carol gleamed. I was completely devestated now and lost the last of my resistance, helplessly defeated and numb to whatever they wanted. “Alright, get yourself in the playpen while I take care of your wet clothes.” Traumatized and in shock, I stood frozen until she forced me over the railing and sat me down. Staring through the bars, I watched as they left the room leaving me to my tormented thoughts. Everything seemed surreal as I glanced down and noticed the diaper pins were pink adding yet another level of humiliation to my already degrading transformation.

It was only minutes later when I heard a commotion and looking up, saw the mother bringing the other boys in to witness my humiliating transition. She explained, “This little boy wet his pants and needed to be properly dressed.” Though my head was still whirling, I felt overwhelmed with further shame as they gathered around the pen staring in disbelief. My tears only added to my babyish appearance as she pulled me to my feet while directing them to point at my diapers and to laugh while calling me a baby. Though it was obvious they were scared and somewhat nervous, it didn’t ease the intense humiliation I felt as I cried even harder. “Stick your thumb in your mouth and suck on it so everyone can see what a little baby you are.” With little to no sense of self left, I numbly obeyed and began sucking to her and her daughter’s delight. After several minutes, she told everyone to return outside until called for lunch.

I felt so degraded as her daughter remained and giggled at her sense of power over me. “Well it looks like we’ve another baby to take care of. I think maybe mom should keep you in diapers until we’re sure you won’t have any more accidents. I can’t wait until my friends come over and I can show them our new baby. Maybe we can even play house and take turns being your mommy.” Her words terrified me and cut even further into my psyche as I continued to cry helplessly. Thankfully, she didn’t have any of her friends over. I think her mother probably told her to keep it quiet and in the house but I’m not certain. Whatever the reason, I was grateful as I don’t know if my mind could handle any more trauma than I was already experiencing. At lunch, I got to sit in my usual chair but I couldn’t bring myself to look up from my plate. I felt so humiliated and degraded as I squirmed from the cold, hard chair on my bare legs. Time seemed to stand still as few words were spoken and the sound of clicking silverware echoed through the room. I was relieved when everyone had finished and were sent back outside while I was taken back to the playpen.

It was mid-afternoon when the mother came to check on me and asked if I felt I was ready to start using the bathroom like a big boy. Of course I responded with a resounding ‘YES!’ Taking me upstairs to the bathroom, she removed my diapers while warning me of a repeat only for a much longer period if I ever have another accident. I quickly washed up and got dressed but my clothes didn’t protect me from being teased and called a baby for several weeks. Whenever Carol was sent to fetch some fresh diapers for the baby, she would take special pleasure in seeking me out to ask if I also needed to be changed. Even her mother took enjoyment in reminding me of my ordeal. It wasn’t but a couple of days later, while she was hanging out the laundry, that she called me over and said, “Since some of these are yours, you can help me by handing me those diapers from the basket while I hang them on the line.” She intentionally said it loud enough so the other boys could hear as they began to giggle.

It was only a couple months later, shortly after we’d started back to school, when I was again traumatized with humiliation and shame. I was enjoying the weekend off from school and had just finished fixing a flat on my bike when Carol came over and said she wanted to ride it. When I told her I was planning on riding it myself, she frowned for a minute and then after giving some forethought, snickered, “You’d better let me use it or else.” Though my stomach felt uneasy, I repeated defiantly, “It’s my bike and I’m riding it. Go ride your own bike.” With a devilish grin, she said, “O.k. but you’ll be sorry.” The sound of confidence in her voice was unsettling and I questioned my moment of bravery as she turned and ran up to the house. Proceeding with her devious plan, she told her mother she saw me relieving myself behind the shed. Without hesitation, I was called in and asked if what she said was true? Though puzzled by her accusation, I began to shake nervously as I insisted she was lying. “Yes he did, mom. I saw him. Why would I lie about something like that?” Seeing how scared I was only convinced her further of my guilt. As usual, she took her daughter’s word and shouted, “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you. You keep insisting on being a vile, disgusting boy.” Carol smiled as she skillfully manipulated her mother further, reminding her of what happened the last time I didn’t use the bathroom like a grown up. I was immediately terrified by her devious cunning as I continued to cry of my innocents.

Guided by her daughter’s suggestion, she looked at my tear filled eyes and responded, “Apparently you didn’t learn anything the last time you were punished. Do you remember what I told you would happen if you misbehaved again? I guess you’d prefer wearing diapers rather than stop playing long enough to use the bathroom. Then you could simply use your diapers since that’s what they’re for.” Shear terror ripped through my mind as she turned to Carol and said, “Go bring this baby some diapers while he gets undressed.” I continued pleading my innocents while begging her to stop only to have her grow angrier. “Be quiet or I’ll really give you something to cry about. You brought this on yourself. Now get those clothes off or I’ll remove them for you and If I have to take them off, It’ll follow with a bare bottom spanking. Now do as you’re told.”

Tears ran down my cheeks as I helplessly removed my clothes and once again stood barefoot in just my underpants. Yanking me over to the kitchen table, she forced me up and onto my back. My arms and legs swung wildly as she rolled me onto my side. The room rang with the sound of her hand hitting my thinly clad bottom, SLAP! SLAP!, until I stopped resisting and surrendered to my doom. Grabbing my underpants, she quickly pulled them down and off just as her daughter returned. Looking over, I saw the devious grin on her face and realized she had planned this from the very start. Apparently she had been plotting for a way to get me put back in diapers again since the last time. Handing her mother the diapers, she placed some pins and a container of baby powder on the table by my side. I could hear her muffled giggles as she watched her mother take her cue and grabbing the powder, sprinkled it over my stomach and groin in preparation of my degrading garment.

As the scent rose to my nostrils, it intensified the reality I was about to be diapered for a second time. I cried helplessly as her hands slipped the soft fabric under me and pulled it up between my legs. As she reached for the pins, she looked up at my tormented face and smiled, knowing my male ego was under attack and about to be destroyed. The room spinned aimlessly as the degrading garment was pulled snug and pinned securely, assuring my return to the world of babyhood. Sitting me up, she announced, “Now whenever you need to go to the bathroom, you can use your diapers as that is what they’re for.” Spoken with the intent to humiliate me further, it was clear where her daughter had learned her own hatefulness. Bringing me to my feet, she forced me out onto the back porch despite my distressed cries to stay inside. Carol quickly followed with excitement at the others seeing the control she had over my tormented soul. Though they seemed surprised and a bit confused, it didn’t take long before she had them joining her in laughter. They didn’t seem as sympathetic as before but actually enjoyed my degrading wardrobe change.

“Did baby have another accident and wet his pants again?”, David taunted. Tommy joined in as they chanted, “Look at the little baby having to wear diapers again.” I could do nothing but hang my head causing me to stare at the shameful cloth pinned about my waist. It seemed forever before they tired and calmed down. I felt dead and empty as though the world I’d known no longer existed. At lunch, I was put in the baby’s high chair. Giving a very large glass of milk, she told me I was to drink it all before I’d be allowed down. “Babies need lots of milk so they can grow up to be big boys.”, she explained with a chuckle. Though confused by such a large glass, my attention was quickly directed back to the others as they giggled at my new seating arrangement. True to her word, I wasn’t allowed down until long after the others had return outside. “You can stay inside if you promise to be quiet but if you give me any trouble, back outside you go.” Everything seemed surreal as I went into the living room and sat in the overstuffed chair by the fireplace. I wasn’t there very long when Carol came in and approached me. “Well. How’s our little baby doing? I warned you, you’d be sorry. Besides, I think you look really cute in diapers.” Her teasing quickly brought me back to tears as I begged her to stop and leave me alone. I was really terrified as she walked away leaving me to ponder what other evil she might be planning.

It wasn’t until mid-afternoon before I discovered the real reason for the large glass of milk. Fearfully, I went to her mother begging to use the bathroom only to be told, “You didn’t want to use it before so now you don’t have to. That’s what your diapers are for.” She then gave me a devilish grin as she told me to run along. Surely she didn’t expect me to actually wet myself. She’s just trying to scare me as further punishment, I told myself. It didn’t take long before the pains became unbearable and I returned in desperation only to hear her repeat, “I told you that’s what your diapers are for. Now don’t bother me again or outside you go.” Realizing she was serious, and folding over with painful cramps, I slipped into the back den while clutching my groin. Within minutes my resistance failed and I felt the warm wetness spreading through the waiting fabric. Flooded with shame, I spread my legs while the diapers quickly filled and ran down to form a puddle at my bare feet. Bursting into tears of humiliation quickly summoned the mother as she smiled victoriously and asked, “Now wasn’t that better than having to use the bathroom like a big boy?”, more to torment than as a question.

I stood paralyzed as I pleaded to now have the diapers removed. She simply responded, “We’ll see. But I think you need to stay in them for a while just to make sure you don’t forget what they feel like. Maybe after this, you’ll appreciate using the bathroom like a big boy.” She then led me back to the living room and forced me into the baby’s playpen. “You’ll have to stay in here. We can’t have you running around soiling the furniture in those wet diapers.” I was in total shock as I continued to cry, overcome with shame. Picking up a pacifier, she stuck it in my mouth. “Now keep it in until you’re ready to quiet down.” Settling down was impossible as I stood and watched her go get a mop to clean up the scene of my defeat. She then went to the back door and called the others back in. “Now little baby, tell everyone what you just did.”, she demanded.

Grabbing the railing, I sobbed, “I wet myself.” “You mean, you wet your diapers like a baby, don’t you? Say it! Say, I wet my diapers because I’m just a little baby.” Overcome with humiliation, I tearfully sobbed her heartless words, “I wet my diapers because I’m just a little baby.” Her daughter couldn’t hold back any longer and burst into laughter. “Does baby want his diapers changed?” She was both surprised and delighted when her mother cut in and said, “Not yet! He needs to remain in his wet diapers until after supper so he doesn’t forget what it feels like to be a baby.” Once again, I was placed in the baby’s high chair, effectively putting my wet diapers on full display to the others. This time I was given milk in a baby bottle and again told I was to drink it all. She even insisted I hold it with both hands like a baby while nursing on the teat. After supper, she told everyone to follow her into the living room to witness my being changed. “It’s all part of his punishment.”, she explained as she had me lay on the mat. To further my humiliation, she talked to me like a baby while pinning me into fresh diapers. The diapers did feel better after the wet, cold ones.

It must have been around 7:30 when I was told it’s baby’s bedtime. Helping me out of the playpen, I was led upstairs to her bedroom. Tears began to swell as she pointed over to the baby’s crib and told me, “You’re to sleep there for tonight.” Helping me up and onto my back, I tearfully watched as she raised the railing until it clicked. I could smell the lingering scent of stale urine and baby powder shouting I was in the baby’s bed and it made me feel even more infantile. “Now if you quiet down and get to sleep, you can have your clothes back in the morning.” I watched as she left the room, wishing it was already morning. Emotionally drained, I closed my eyes and slowly drifted off to sleep. Gratefully, she kept her word and I got to take a bath and have my clothes returned in the morning. However, that wasn’t the last time I was subjected to diapers as they became the preferred method used to discipline me for any misbehaviors, real or not. Needless to say, I remained ever more fearful of Carol and when threatened to do her bidding, I quickly obeyed. Oddly, none of the other boys were ever subjected to diapers which I still don’t understand to this day.

I am now over 80 years old and I am still tormented with the nagging need to relive these horrific events. Though I have learned to accept they are a part of me, I still hate the control diapers and the need to be shamed has on me. I often wonder if her daughter, being conditioned to this form of discipline, ever used it on her own children later on.

Welcome to MSF..

I'm so sorry you were humiliated by these despicable people.

What you went through was very traumatising.

They had no right to treat you this way. I think by talking about it here, and/or with a professional should hopefully bring you some closure and peace.

Again, welcome to the forum... I hope you finid it as helpful as I have.