My name is Joey and my diapered history is a bit different than most. I’ve had the desire to be subjected to diaper punishment for a long time. It started during puberty for me and I believe I know the trigger. There was a boy that lived down the street named Mike that had a bedwetting problem. His mother made him wear diapers to bed, which is hardly surprising and was fairly common. However, his older brother made it his mission to make sure as many people as possible knew that his brother wore diapers to bed. The boy was humiliated about his diaper wearing and bedwetting on almost a daily basis. For some reason, I began to crave the same treatment.
I found myself fantasizing about being in his shoes. The first time I ever masturbated I was imagining myself on the bus wearing only a diaper as all the other kids teased me. I wanted to buy diapers, but I had no money, so I did the next best thing. I used a garbage bag, duct tape and a towel to create one. It was ugly, but it was a good masturbation tool.
I also became friends with Michael, in the hopes that I would get the same humiliating treatment just for being his friend. It didn’t really work, other than the occassional question about my friend diaper boy. Our friendship struck pay dirt in another way though. The first time I spent the night at his house, I was presented with an opportunity to snatch one of his diapers. I hid it in my pillowcase and took it home the next morning.
The first time I put on an actual diaper, I began to have an orgasm as I pulled the diaper up between my crotch. I wore that same diaper every night for two weeks, but had to throw it away when it began to fall apart. I would spend the night at Michael’s house every few weeks and steal a fresh diaper. I also began to write stories about my fantasies, which I would re-read while masturbating.
One day, when I was 14, I came home and saw my stack of stories and the two diapers I had stashed away sitting on the coffee table. My mom and my ‘aunt’ Linda were sitting on the couch waiting for me.
On a sidenote, my ‘aunt’ Linda is my mom’s girlfriend. I called her Aunt Linda, because they told everyone they were step sisters, which is why they lived together. It was the late 80s when lesbian couples were still somewhat ostracized.
Anyway, when I saw the pile, I turned beet red and thought I was going to pass out. They both saw the reaction and told me to sit down. They said they weren’t angry with me and they these types of things were natural. They just wanted to make sure I understood what was and was not appropriate.
As they talked, they explained that they had read my stories and understood my desires. The bombshell dropped when my mom told me they wanted to use these desires to help me do better in school. I had been struggling with junior high and up this point I had simply been lazy about studying. She said if I wanted to be diapered at home, she would make that happen as long as I promised to focus on my schoolwork. I agreed.
The diapers in my stash were the largest size Pampers that I had stolen from Michael’s house. They could be worn, but they had to be stretched and did not fit correctly. My jaw nearly dropped to the floor, when Aunt Linda opened a bag beside the couch and pulled out a package of Attends. She opened the package and removed one of the diapers and handed it to me and told me to go to my room and put it on.
It was a bit different than Pampers, as it had four tapes instead of two. I put it on the best I could and then lay down in my bed to ponder what had just happened. A few minutes later, my mom and Aunt Linda walked into my room. I pulled the covers over myself out of embarrassment, but they just pulled them aside. Aunt Linda noted that the diaper was fastened crooked, so she undid the tapes and refastened them correctly. She was a nurse, but up to that point I had no idea she was experienced with changing adult diapers.
They got me out of bed and took me back to the living room to finish our conversation. They told me that I could wear diapers all the time at home, but it would be inappropriate to wear them at school or social functions. If I refused to study or my grades fell behind, the diapers would be off limits. They had me sit at the dining room table to do my homework, wearing only a diaper and a shirt until dinner time.
Over time, my desires expanded. It was only a month or so later than I found myself desperately wanting to wet and mess the diaper. As long as I was doing well in school, Mom and Aunt Linda seemed fine with whatever desires came. Within a few months, I was wearing and using diapers at all times at home. Aunt Linda had taken over my diaper changes, as I was not very good at doing it myself. It was not sexual for her obviously and I had to focus on not getting an erection in the middle of a change.
By the time I was 16, I was constantly fantasizing about other punishments. Being spanked for breaking the rules was at the center of my new desires and I told them about them. They told me they were opposed to spanking children, but would give it some thought.
On my 16th birthday, they decided to give the idea of spanking a little test run. That night, before bed, they told me it was time for my birthday spankings. During my bed time diaper change, Mom pulled me over her lap and gave me 16 swats with her hand and then wished me a happy birthday. It hurt a bit, but didn’t feel like a punishment. Aunt Linda drew on what she read in my stories and wielded a wooden hairbrush before pulling me across her lap.
The hairbrush hurt like hell, but I endured the 16 swats. Aunt Linda put me in a fresh diaper and put me to bed. They both kissed my forehead and left. I thought about the spanking and realized I hated it while it was happening. It was literally just pain and there was no enjoyment at all. However, the after effects of the spanking were amazing. I fell into a sort of headspace where I wanted nothing more than to please them. I explained all of this to them the next day and they agreed to use spanking as a punishment if they should decide I needed it.
The first few months included about half a dozen mild spankings like I had received on my birthday. I didn’t receive my first real spanking until I went out with friends one weekend and got caught drinking in the park. I didn’t even want to do it, but peer pressure is a bitch. We were all taken home by the cops and my mom and Aunt Linda were pissed. After yelling at me about the dangers of teen drinking, Mom told me to go to bed and think about what I had done. Aunt Linda followed that up immediately telling me to wait for her in my bedroom while she got her hairbrush.
I sat on my bed pissed at myself for letting them down. They had always been so understanding of my desires and I paid them back by doing something so stupid. About fifteen minutes later, Aunt Linda came into my room with the hairbrush in her hand. She pulled my pants and underwear down to my ankles and pulled me across her lap. This was not the same mild spankings I was used to when I forgot to unload the dishwasher or got a poor grade on an exam. She really laid into my ass hard. After ten strokes, I was trying to block them with my hand. She simply pulled my hand up to my lower back and held it in place. I lost count of how many strokes I received and I suspect she wasn’t counting either. They came fast and hard and the spanking seemed to last forever. I was blubbering by the time it was over. I had tears running down my cheeks and snot hanging from my nose.
After the spanking, she told me to stand in the corner and think about my actions. I reached for my pants after standing, but she told me to leave them around my ankles. I stood in the corner for about an hour before Mom and Aunt Linda came back into my room. They removed my pants and had me lay down to be diapered. Mom explained that they should take away my diapers for what I had done, but after the spanking I received I would need the padding.
At 18, I went to a local college and still lived at home. Things were the same for the most part, except not being in high school anymore meant I could be diapered 24/7. I wore diapers at all times. Some of my friends knew, but they all just assumed that I had a medical condition. I was still spanked for poor grades or not finishing my chores or homework. The real punishment spanking, however, were few and far between. In fact, I can remember how I earned each and every one…
– When I ran over a curb and messed up the wheels on my Mom’s car because I was horsing around with a friend while driving. It cost over $600 to repair.
– When I was playing basketball with the garage door open and the ball smashed into a box that contained Aunt Linda’s fragile teaset that was given to her by her grandmother. Nothing was broken, but a lesson had to be learned.
– First term of college, I missed two labs and had to repeat the class. I was punished, because I skipped to hang with friends.
– For my 19th birthday, two friends got me drunk. When I passed out, they dropped me off on my porch. My mom found me and the next day I was spanked.
– Second year of college, my geology class had an extra credit field trip. I needed $300 for food and lodging. Mom and Aunt Linda said they would give it to me if I cleaned and organized the attic. I procrastinated too long and didn’t finish. When they refused to pay, I called them both bitches. That was the hardest spanking of my life. Aunt Linda used the hairbrush and Mom used my own leather belt. They ended up giving me the money for the trip on the promise I would be spanked hard every day until the attic was finished upon my return. I spent that trip with a very bruised butt. The attic was finished on my first day back.
I spent six years in college and earned a Master’s degree. Then I continued to live with them another two years while I found a good job and saved for a house. I moved out when I was 26 and was diapered and punished all the way up until that point.
At 32, I met my future wife. She was the first woman I had dated that wasn’t freaked out by my fetish. Yes, I told all every woman I dated about my fetish, because it’s such a big part of who I am. None of them ran away screaming, but they couldn’t deal with the fetish more than a few months. My wife, Dana, on the other hand rather enjoys it. She has a very dominant streak sexually and likes to be in charge. She treats me very much the way my mom and Aunt Linda treated me, but with several additions – sexual additions.
I realize not everyone has such an open minded family, but I just wanted to share my story to perhaps give some of you hope. If you decide to post this letter, I would be happy to answer any questions people might have.
Stay Diapered My Friends!
~ Diaper Boy Joey ~