Back to Basics (Chapter Eleven)

This has been written for a US audience by a guest writer. Thanks to James for allowing me to publish it on my Patreon.

And then it was finally time to go home. 

I had assumed I would get my pants and underwear back, and was really looking forward to feeling like a ‘big boy’ again, if only until diaper time in the evening.

 But it was not to be. Both Adam and Aunt Jane discussed the matter of my frequent day wetting with my mother, and she was convinced that I should stay in diapers until I learned to control myself. 

“I think he needs to be toilet trained all over again,” mused Aunt Jane. 

So when my Mom came to pick us up, I was wearing only a tee-shirt, diapers, plastic pants, and shoes and socks. My diaper pail was packed with all my ‘baby’ stuff. 

I said goodbye to my Aunt and cousins “Stay dry, man,” Brad laughed. 

I guess they were glad to see me go. So I had to walk to the car carrying my diaper pail and wearing diapers. It was very weird to be outside in just diapers, and I felt very exposed. 

The car was close by, and I waited nervously for my Mom to open the trunk for the diaper pail and the suitcase containing our other clothes. Just then three kids came along on bikes. They seemed to be about ten or eleven years old. I hoped they wouldn’t notice me, but one did, and they stopped.

“Carl! Frank! Check it out—the guy’s wearing diapers!”

“Man oh man, he is! He’s wearing diapers!” There was nothing I could do. They were laughing and pointing. Their ‘leader’ spoke to my Mom. “Lady, how come the kid is in diapers?”

“Why do you think? Because he needs them, that’s why.”

They thought this was hilarious. “Because he needs them, that’s why” they kept repeating. “Because he’s a pee-baby, that’s why!” Pee-baby or not, I was wet again.

“See what you leave yourself in for?” my Mom asked as I finally stumbled into the car, on the verge of tears.

Back home before taking my stuff upstairs my Dad examined my calendar. “You didn’t have one dry night while we were away. And why do some of these dates have two ‘W’s on them?”

“Because he’s been wetting during the day, which is why he’s in diapers full-time,” Adam said.

“Well you better be toilet-trained by September, or you’ll be wearing them to school,” Dad warned. “Are you wet right now?” I was pretty smelly, and my diapers were sagging.

“Yes.”

“Adam, deal with him, will you?”

“I’m so sick of changing his diapers!”

This time I did get spanked. I noticed that Adam didn’t ask anyone’s permission, he just gave me twenty with the strap before diapering me. I hoped that this wasn’t a new trend. My parents had to have heard what happened, but they didn’t say anything.

I gradually reduced my daytime wetting accidents, and within two weeks I was back in ‘big-boy’ underwear during the day. It felt good. I did wet my diapers a couple of times when my brother had friends over in the evening and they teased me, but both times I managed to get away with it.

After a routine visit to my doctor on a Monday during which he saw evidence of my regular Sunday spanking, he convinced my Mom to stop the practice. She made it clear that I would still be punished for defiance or non-cooperation when it came to being diapered, but the Sunday spankings were a thing of the past. What a relief! The calendar remained a record of my nightly shame, however, and I was still wetting as often. Then a bad thing happened.

My Mom was always entering contests. Once in awhile she would win some small thing, but this time she won big. It was a trip for four to Disney World. For four days. All expenses paid. Everyone was excited. 

But then my parents gradually decided that it would be better not to have to deal with a diapered bedwetter in a hotel. I would stay home. 

It was actually a ‘lesson’ for me—there were consequences for being a bedwetter. At first my brother was very upset because he assumed he would have to stay and ‘baby-sit’ me, but my Mom assured him that not only was he going, but if he wanted, Rachel could take my place.

“It’ll be a real holiday for you,” she said.

“But who’ll look after Wayne?” he asked.

“We’ll just have to find a babysitter for him,” she said.

“Could Charlie do it if he was willing?”

“I don’t see why not, and we could pay him. Would he be willing to change Wayne’s diapers?”

“Maybe. I’ll ask him. I know he could use the money.” Adam called Charlie and invited him over.

“Charlie, we need a favor. We won a trip to Disney World, but we need a babysitter for Wayne. It’d be for four days. Would you consider moving in and babysitting?”

“I’d have to change his diapers?” He looked at me doubtfully.

“Yes. But we’d pay you $200.”

“Heck, for $200 I’ll change his diapers. Pass the baby powder, dude! Besides, I know how ‘cause I’ve seen Adam do it, and I even did it once. Deal!”

On Friday Charlie arrived with a packsack around 4 pm, and my parents, Adam and Rachel left soon after. I had been instructed that Charlie was in charge, and that I was to mind whatever he said. 

This subservient relationship made me shy and nervous around him. I stayed in my room while he watched TV downstairs. At about 5 o’clock he came into my room. “Okay, Wayne, let’s put you in diapers.”

“What? Now? But it’s only 5 o’clock.” I felt a sense of panic.

“I have friends coming over. Would you rather I did it in front of them? Get yourself ready.” 

He was busy making up diapers for me on my change pad. I very reluctantly began to get undressed. Horribly embarrassed, I was about to climb up on the change table, but he stopped me.

“Wait, there’s something I need to do first.” He forced me to bend over, in spanking position. “Wait.” He went to my closet, and I knew he was getting the strap.

“But I didn’t do anything!”

“Right, and this is going to keep it that way. Consider it a pre-emptive spanking, and maybe you’ll only have to get one. It was your brother’s idea that I show you who’s boss.”

The injustice of it and the pain made me cry. Charlie spanked me hard, maybe twenty-five times, I’m not sure. Then I was on the change table. 

But before he could diaper me, the doorbell rang. “Don’t move,” he said, and went to answer the door. A moment later I heard him say “Hey Vince! Come on in!” I heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and then Vince, a total stranger, was staring at me, lying naked except for a Tee-shirt on my diapers.

“I take it this is bedwetter Wayne that I’ve been hearing about?”

“Yep. I just need to diaper him.”

“You don’t look like the babysitting type, Charlie; gentle, nurturing…”

“I’m not. I just spanked him. It’s the money, Vince.”

“Oh, that’s why he’s blubbering. Sweet. And I notice he’s got no hair down there.”

“Right. Adam calls it his ‘diaper-rash prevention program’. Seems he got diaper rash so bad one time he had to miss school. Imagine that—missing high school because of diaper rash!” They both laughed. So now he has to take a Bic razor into the shower.” 

Charlie powdered me, pulled the diapers up between my legs, and pinned them on.

“Hey, this is good practice for when you have a baby of your own,” Vince said. 

Charlie had chosen a pair of clear snap-on plastic pants that had belonged to ex-bedwetter Richard, and he put them on me. 

I never felt so helpless and babyish as he snapped them on, with Vince watching. They were thick and noisy, and I crinkled as I climbed off the change table and waddled toward the door, my head hung in shame. I knew that if I committed the ultimate disgrace and wet my diapers, the result would be plainly visible through the clear plastic.

The doorbell rang twice more. The first time it was Axel, who had seen me put in diapers by Adam. After greeting the others, he looked at me and shook his head. “I see there hasn’t been much progress on the toilet training front,” he said. The second ring announced two guys, Rich and Steven.

“Man, shouldn’t he be in a playpen or something?” Rich said.

“No offense, dude, but I can’t think of a bigger case of a loser than being a teenage bedwetter in diapers,” Steven said. I was taunted and teased through supper (Charlie ordered pizza), until around 8 o’clock Axel noticed something.

“I think Wayne wet his diapers, Charlie.” It was true. I was wet, but not soaked. It showed, though. All the teasing and humiliation had taken a toll. I was mortified as they all stared and commented. “Man, he actually peed his diapers!”

“Well I have news for you, Wayne,” Charlie said. “I’m not changing you. You can just stay wet. Now go up to bed.” I could feel their eyes on my diapers as I timorously left the room to head upstairs. “Nitey-nite, baby Wayne.” Laughter. 

A few other things happened while Charlie babysat me—his girlfriend came over and made merciless fun of me as Charlie diapered me and afterwards, and another time Charlie’s twelve year old brother came over just after I had been put in diapers, and he wouldn’t stop teasing. 

“Hey baby Wayne, how do you like wearing diapers?” Stuff like that, but I was used to it by now.

In fact my life got quite a bit better—no more spankings unless I really mess up, in which case it’s my own fault, and I finally prevailed on my Mom, with Adam’s consent, to finally allow me to diaper myself, a vast improvement. There are strict conditions—I have to be in diapers by eight o’clock, no exceptions, and I’m still not allowed to wear anything over my waterproof pants, so it’s still very embarrassing and I still get teased, but it’s a lot better than it was. I get out of diapers when I’ve been consistently dry for 90 days. My record so far? I once had two consecutive dry nights. Well it’s nice to have a goal…