A Common (Generic) Diaper Punishment Story
Some of you will probably dislike this story (and a couple more I have in mind) because they are unlike my usual writing. They are quick-moving, not very detailed, and generic. However, I have had a few diaper punishment stories in mind for a little while, and I want to go ahead and get them out of my head to sort of clear away clutter. This means there will be about three very short, very generic stories - but maybe someone will enjoy them. Let me know!
When I was 15, I told my mother I was having a problem wetting my bed. I even told her I wore diapers to bed because of it. Actually, I was wearing a plastic pant over several pair of thick underpants. I would wash them out when I wet and I would hang them up to dry in my closet. Sometime during that year I did end up getting a package of Gerber cloth diapers that I used from then on. Sometimes on weekends I would get the house to myself for a little while and I would wash my diapers in the washing machine and use the dryer -that was a lot easier.
My mother was never less than supportive. She saw my diapers from time to time - she saw the plastic sheet I put on my bed for awhile, and so on. She never said anything discouraging about it, and just let me handle it myself. She did say a couple times that if it didn't stop she wanted to take me to the doctor, but I kept saying I didn't need to.
I always kind of wished I had asked her to take a strict approach to my "little problem". Often, I have wondered what might have happened had I been treated harshly and punished for it. This is a fantasy story involving that line of thinking. It is a bit generic - but some people like those type stories.
"If it keeps up for a long time, we will have to take you to see a doctor about it," my mother said, finishing up her concerned reaction after I had confessed to her I had been having a bedwetting problem for the last couple months, and I had even begun to wear diapers for it.
I was shocked - it had taken a lot of courage for me to tell, and I had expected - even hoped (though nervously) for more of a reaction than THIS. "Umm - is that ALL?" I asked incredulously.
Now she was surprised. "What do you mean?" she asked.
"Well - I ummm..." I turned red with embarrassment. "I mean, I was kinda hoping.... well, when I was six and I wet the bed a few times, you scolded me and threatened to put rubber sheets on the bed, or maybe even put me in diapers and make me sleep in the crib..."
My mother chuckled. "You're not six anymore," she pointed out the obvious. "You're a bit big for the crib ... and you've taken care of the diapers already," she said with a smile. "Believe me, if you weren't wearing diapers, I would suggest rubber sheets. As for scolding - well - do you REALLY want me to?"
"Umm - well..." I blushed harder, and just nodded. "Even more than that," I said. I was hoping that being punished would help me to stop - I've tried everything else, and punishment is always the last
"Exactly what kind of punishment?" my mother asked. I didn't answer; I just stared at my feet. "Scolding you like a naughty little boy?" she asked, getting a nod from me. "Maybe putting you in the corner?" I nodded again. "More?" she asked, and I looked up at her.
"Ahh - I see. Well, if you feel so strongly about it that you actually ASK for one, then I guess you really do need a good hard spanking, don't you?" Her voice started to take one the tone of lecturing a small
child. "Well? Isn't that what you need?" she pressed.
"I - I guess so..." My voice quivered and I suddenly felt and sounded much younger.
"I think you KNOW so," she said. With that, she took my hand and led
meto her bedroom, picking up the wooden hairbrush on her dresser.
"How many spanks do you think you deserve?" she asked me. This was not uncommon - whenever I more my siblings were spanked at younger ages we were asked this. It was always a dilemma - you would want to ask for the smallest amount you could get away with, but if you asked for too few, you would get more for trying to get away with that.
"....Until I cry," I admitted. This seemed a safe way to answer.
"And then some," she decided for me. She sat on the bed, and undid my pants. If I COULD have turned any more red, I would have then, as my pants and underwear were pulled down. As she pulled my underwear down, she commented that "You may just not be ready for these yet - perhaps Mommy needs to put you back in diapers all day like a little baby - what do you think about that?"
"But I don't NEED them all day," I whined, feeling younger and naughtier by the second.
She pulled me down over her knee. "At your age, you shouldn't need them at ALL," she lectured, starting to spank me quickly with her hand. "Aren't you ashamed!? Being spanked and wearing diapers to bed at your age!" After a minute of this, she picked up the wooden hairbrush. I felt a burst of stinging heat as she brought it down across my bottom, and it continued to build like bee stings as she spanked me again and again. Finally, I could hold back no longer and I began to cry and kick my feet as the spanking continued. It seemed like it went on forever, but I am sure it was really only a couple minutes before she stopped. Once she stopped, she hugged me, then led me to a corner and told me I had to stand there - with my naughty bottom displayed - for 15 minutes. I wasn't allowed to rub my bottom, and the sting and eventual itch was almost as bad as the spanking itself - almost.
When my corner time was over, I was led back to my own room, and my mother asked me where my diapers were. I told her, and she got one out of the box that was hidden in my closet, and then picked up some baby powder she had brought to my room and set on my dresser. There on my bed, I was diapered by her for the first time since I was two. I turned red again as she pulled the diaper up tightly between my legs, and fastened it snugly around my hips and waist.
It was only , but my mother said it was time for bed now, just like when I was little. I knew there was no way I could hope to avoid a wet diaper tonight, since I was going to bed so early.
Sure enough, I awoke in the middle of the night, straining to hold back. I suppose I could have got up and went to the bathroom, but then I would have had to wrestle with getting my diaper off and back on right (which was no easy feat with the diapers then), and besides I was sleepy and it felt like it would be cold if I got out from under my blankets. So, I just relaxed and let it flow into my diaper, enjoying the warm tingling sensation as my diaper filled and swelled.
In the morning, my mother woke me up and showed me a calendar. "So we can keep track of your progress - or lack thereof," she told me. "We will put a gold star on mornings you are dry, and a black W when you are wet. She noticed the look on my face when she said that, and added, "Like I am guessing you are this morning."
"Ok…"I said. This didn't sound too bad - I just had to make sure no one saw this calendar, although she was now putting it up in a prominent place over the headboard of my bed.
"Wait- there is more," she said. I was afraid of that. "I will check your diapers every morning. You may put them on at night, but I will be checking to make sure you are diapered before bed, and if I catch you even once without a diaper at bedtime, I will be diapering you from then on. If I find your diaper wet in the morning, after you put a W on your calendar, you will be spanked. You can either be spanked in your room bare-bottom, or on your diaper if you take it in the Living Room in front of your sister. One more thing - if you have five or more wet nights during a week, you will spend the next Saturday in diapers all day, and you will use them.If you ever have 10 wet nights in a row, you will be sent to school in diapers for a day."
This was a lot to take in, and before I even had a chance to digest it all, she pulled the covers down, revealing my obviously soaked diaper. With the black marker, she put a W on the day on the calendar, thenasked me, "Well, will it be here on your bare bottom, or in the Living Room on your diaper?"
I figured my sister must know about this already, and besides, I didn't have much hope of making it through without having at least one Saturday in diapers, and she would see me in diapers then if not before that time. I figured now was as good a time as any, and the spanking wouldn't be half as painful on my diaper. I chose the Living Room.
My sister was already up, and watched as my mother brought me over to the couch in my diaper, which by now was drooping a bit. She giggled as I was pulled over Mom's knee, and spanked. I was right in thinking it wouldn't hurt as much on the diaper, although it hurt a little since the diaper was wet, and it was more humiliating. After the spanking I spent another ten minutes in the corner, before being allowed to go clean up and get dressed.
There wasn't a full week before the first weekend arrived, but the next weekend I found myself spending a Saturday in diapers. Fortunately, I had two dry nights, and was able to escape the ten wet night penalty of being sent to school in a diaper. When I awoke Saturday, I was in a wet diaper as usual. It was marked on the calendar, but rather than getting a spanking afterward, my mother simply went to the closet and brought back a dry diaper, and something new - a container of baby wipes. It felt so foreign to me to have the diaper untaped, drawn out from under me, and then be subjected to the cold baby wipe all over my most private area. It also felt foreign to have powder sprinkled and be taped in a new diaper rather than be able to get dressed.
Another thing I hadn't thought about happened after breakfast. I realized I had to go to the bathroom - but not just for wetting. I tried to tell my mother, but she again repeated the rules to me… when being diaper punished on a Saturday, I was not to use the "potty" at all, I was to use my diapers.
I knew it was futile to resist, but I still tried to hold it. It wasn't long before I gave up the battle, opting for comfort instead. It was a relief to let it out, but then it felt awful in the seat of my diaper. My mother did not make me wait long for a change, and though it was embarrassing, this time I was very happy to get my diaper changed.
My bedwetting was so bad, that this almost became a ritual and it was uncommon for me to have a Saturday without diapers. This proved disastrous one Saturday, when I completely without thinking just let go while watching Saturday morning cartoons, soaking my pants and unfortunately also the couch. My mother thought about it, and then told me that I would have to wear diapers all the time whenever I was at home. As soon as I got home from school, I was immediately taken to my room and diapered. For the first few weeks, I asked for the toilet when I had to go, and my mother would remove the diapers for me to go, then put them back on me afterward. This got taxing, and after a few weeks I just asked if it would be ok to just use my diapers.
Over the summer, I was diapered constantly. When it came time for school, I found I no longer had any sort of control, and so it was that I started High School in diapers. It was funny - our school was K-12 and also had a preschool - in the preschool they required children to be out of diapers to be enrolled. I guess no one ever thought they might need to apply that rule to High School!