About a dozen years ago, I was a typical teenager that enjoyed partying way too much. At parties, I would do whatever drugs happened to be passed my way. If it got me high, I would take it. No questions asked.
Well, one time, I took something that turned out to be quite nasty. Some time later I was told that I basically went crazy – breaking stuff, attacking people and throwing shit at cars on the side of the highway. At least, until I got arrested.
All I remember is waking up in the hospital, strapped down to the bed, with a surgical mask over my face and a diaper around my waist. There were cold packs on my chest and wrapped around my thighs. I had no blanket covering me, so everyone walking by in the hall could see me laying there in a diaper. The pain in my head was worse than I had ever felt and I was shivering from both the cold packs and fever.
Maybe twenty minutes after I woke up, a nurse came in to change my IV and I asked her what was going on. I sensed bitterness in her voice when she responded, “Oh. We can use words now, can we?” She didn’t bother to answer my question.
After she left, I realized my bladder was quite full and looked around for a buzzer to call the nurse back. It was out of reach, so I called out for a nurse. A different nurse came in and stood far away at the door to ask me what I needed. I told her that I needed to use the toilet. She replied with “Good for you.” and walked away. Half an hour later, I was desperate and realized I was going to piss myself. Worried it would be too much for the diaper to handle, I let it out really slow until my bladder was empty.
A couple hours later, a doctor came in to check on me. He was the first to explain what had happened. Apparently, the cops brought me to the hospital when I passed out in the back of their car. I woke up while they were trying to treat me and I began to fight against the nurses. When security came to hold me down, I began spitting on people, which explained the surgical mask. At some point during that scuffle, I managed to piss and shit myself and the nurses had to clean me up. He told me that I would be staying strapped to the bed until the prosecutor decided whether or not to press charges.
So, I spent the rest of the weekend strapped to that bed, having nurses change my diapers and going out of their way to humiliate me. They would make comments about being an infant and how I should be ashamed of myself. They would purposely shift the blanket I eventually received to prevent me from hiding the diaper from those walking by the room.
On Monday, after the prosecutor decided not to file charges against me, one of the nurses came to clean my shitty diaper. I still remember what she said in the middle of cleaning the shit from my ass crack. “Looks like nobody cared enough to bring you clean clothes, so you’re going to be wearing your Pampers home.” The truth was that I didn’t try to contact anyone out of embarrassment.
That was also the first time I realized that I weirdly enjoyed being tormented and humiliated by those nurses for the weekend. I had known for years that I had a sub side and enjoyed the idea of some forms of humiliation, but that was the first time I had ever experienced anything like that. It affected me greatly and my curious interest in kink and humiliation blossomed into a full fledged diaper fetish.
These days, I wear as often as I can, but I really only get to experience true humiliation when finances allow me to see a particularly good pro domme.
Well, that’s my story. Thought I would share. Hope you’re able to accept it for the story contest.