BacktoBabyhood
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Back up Basics (Chapter Five)
🕑 Added 2023-05-16 10:59:01 +0000 UTCThis has been written for a US audience by a guest writer. Thanks to James for allowing me to publish it on my Patreon.
“What you got there?” he said.
“Nothing.”
“Looks like something. Looks like you bought yourself some diapers. That right, Wayne? Did little Wayne get some new diapers?” He said this in quasi baby talk.
“No.”
“Oh. ’Cause I heard you still wear diapers. That right?”
One of his friends grabbed the bag from my hands, and soon the three of them were passing my package of diapers around like a football. The bag was on the floor.
“I heard you still wet the bed every night still and need to wear diapers like a baby. That’s what I heard, anyway.”
After awhile a security guard approached and they got tired of the game and threw me a pass. “Here you go, baby.” But they knew. The whole school knew.
To prove that rule is true—I had another embarrassing similar incident—my Mom sent me to a medical supply store to buy rubber pants.
I hung around outside for almost an hour before working up the courage to go inside. I waited until the counter didn’t look too busy, grabbed the three pairs of Babykins (or ‘Kins’) rubber pants I had been told to get (my Mom seemed to favor them), shakily paid and left the store with my purchase in my backpack.
An alarm sounded, and I was escorted back inside by a security guard. The clerk said there must be a theft-prevention tag inside something that I bought, so before I knew it he had my three pairs of rubber pants out of their packaging and on the counter, and was examining each pair, holding them up, sticking his hand inside, searching.
The commotion had alerted everyone nearby, and they all watched as this happened. There was a boy around twelve who looked at me wide-eyed, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
I heard his mother (I presume) say, “They’re like baby pants, but for big boys who still wet the bed or their pants.” Big boys like me. Turned out the alarm was set off by a rental DVD I had in my packsack. All that embarrassment for nothing!
Being a bedwetter is bad enough, but you can hope it doesn’t happen, or if you do wet you can change the bed and get past it, and tell yourself maybe it won’t happen again.
But when you’re made to wear diapers the shame continues on whether you’re wet or dry. That’s what I was finding out. Every night from 7 o’clock (or whenever my Mom or Adam arbitrarily decided), my dignity and self-esteem plunged to zero and stayed there while I spent the whole evening in my diapers, a walking advertisement that I was still a baby/bedwetter.
The odd night that I stayed dry I still spent in diapers. I can see that someone might give up even trying. They say ‘clothes define the man’.
Well diapers are clothes too, and in this case you could say that they re-defined the ‘man’ backwards, all the way back to babyhood. They are what everyone notices, and no-one looks beyond. Wayne isn’t the boy who’s good in math, he’s the sixteen year-old kid who still wears diapers and wets them.
Getting changed by my brother was very very hard to endure, and he was now doing most of the diapering.
My Mom had increased his allowance to compensate him for it, and she diapered me only when he was away for the night, for example. If he was going out early, then he ‘took care’ of me early, and if he changed his mind about going out, too bad.
Usually he had diapers ready and powdered on the change table (as they now openly called it), and a pair of waterproof pants selected. I was expected to quickly undress, get on the table, and cooperate, which I always did. If he forgot the powder, then when I was standing he’d insert a finger or two inside the waistband of my plastic pants, inside the top my diapers, tug a little, and dump some in front, then in back. Then, sometimes with a swat on my plasticized (or rubberized) butt, I was ‘free’ to go.
“My work here is done,” he might say, laughing.
So far I hadn’t received a dreaded spanking from my brother, but I came close. Some of his friends had been over at various times and seen me in my diapers, and all had been fairly cruel in their comments, in one way or another. I could hardly even blame them.
His friend Bryce never failed to call me ‘Baby Wayne’ for example, while others just laughed or made stupid comments ‘Man, wearing diapers is so retarded!’ Charlie said when he first saw me. Or, ‘I think someone needs his diapers changed!’
But the first time he actually had a friend in the room at change time, I balked. I didn’t even know Axel was there.
I got called to the room, where as usual a thick diaper with inserts was waiting on the change table, and Axel was at the far end with a disbelieving look on his face. He hadn’t yet seen me in diapers, much less the process of being put in them. I stopped dead.
“See? I told you,” Adam said. “Ok Wayne, go ahead.” I didn’t.
“Look, Wayne, we have stuff to do, so either cooperate right now or you get the strap.” He told Axel to look in the closet.
“Man, oh man! That looks like it must hurt! It’s wicked!”
“I’m sure it does. Up to you, Wayne. Right now or you get a spanking. It’s a no-brainer, bro. Either way you end up in diapers, as usual.”
He would have to ask Mom to authorize a spanking, but I knew my odds wouldn’t be good. So I reluctantly complied. It was tough.
Axel watched the whole thing in fascination, as if it were a freak show, which I guess it was. This was one of the times my brother forgot the baby powder, and remembered as I got to my feet.
As I hung my head in shame he inserted some into my diapers, front and rear.
