Origin Story: Sarah’s Punishment

By | February 21, 2016

I read a lot of stories about people being subjected to diaper punishment and I realized that most of them are clearly imagined. I’m sure some of them are real, but I believe most are born in the imaginations of fetishists. My story, on the other hand, is very real. My name is Sara and I’m 20 years old.

At a young age, as I was going through puberty, I became obsessed with the idea of wetting my pants. No clue where this came from, but I thought about it often. I experimented a few times by pissing my pants in the bathtub and it felt awesome, but I found I also craved the humiliation of doing it in public. It took a long time to build up the nerve to actually do anything in public, but when I was 14 I decided to bite the bullet and give it a try. Mostly because I felt ‘safe’ doing it as I was visiting my grandmother 300 miles from home.

The first time I wet myself in public, I was at a playground near my grandmother’s house and just stood behind a bench and tried to concentrate on peeing. It was harder than expected. The mental blocks were pretty strong, but after focusing on calming myself down I was able to let out a trickle. Once the trickle started, the flow came quickly. My jeans were soaked and it felt incredible. Light colored jeans have a way of really showing the wetness, which I didn’t expect. Kids pointed and laughed at me as I walked through the park to my grandmother’s house. When I got there, my grandmother noticed my soaked jeans and asked me what happened. I lied and said some girls at the park held me down and tickled me until I peed. She told me to go change my clothes and then washed my wet ones.

I was in heaven and masturbated to the experience many times over the next few months, but after a while I became bored with the same experience and knew I needed to do it again. Since I was in my home town, I wet myself behind a grocery store and then walked through the park to get home. One of the neighbor girls saw me and asked me what happened. Since my first story had worked so well, I decided to use it again and told her some bully girls held me down and tickled me until I peed. She walked home with me and I snuck upstairs to change my clothes before my mother saw. It didn’t help, because my mother heard me come in and came into the living room and asked the neighbor girl why she was there. She told my mother the story I had told her and my mother came upstairs to check on me. She asked me what happened and related the same story. She commented that this was the second time it had happened and I realized my grandmother had told her what happened. In hindsight, I realize she was probably just commenting on the coincidence, but I felt like she was on to me, so I stumbled for a better explanation. I told her that I had told a friend what happened at my grandmother’s and that is why they did it. She seemed to accept the explanation, but had an odd look in her eyes about my hasty extended explanation.

Again, the memory became dull after a while and the urge to do it again got stronger and stronger. My fantasies were also escalating and I had this incredibly strong urge to piss myself in the middle of the mall. I decided to give a go and invented an elaborate plan to pull it off. I put a change of clothes and a plastic bag in a backpack and went to the mall. The plan was to wet myself as far from the bathroom as possible and then slowly make my way to the bathroom and change my clothes. Things went off plan quickly though. After pissing myself, I only got about halfway to the bathroom before a security guard stopped and asked if I needed any help. I told him I was fine, I just needed to get myself cleaned up. He asked how old I was and I told him 14, which triggered him escorting me to security to call my mom. Of course he wasn’t doing it to be mean and thought he was helping, but I was mortified. I told him I had spare clothes just for this reason and that I had a medical condition. I was hoping that would convince him to just let me go to the bathroom and change, but it had the opposite effect. He insisted that if I had a medical condition, I might need a doctor and he really needed to call my mom. He did allow me to change my clothes in the security bathroom, but made me wait there until my mom picked me up.

When she got there, the security guard told her everything I had said, which was clearly a lie. He and I were both surprised when she straight up told him I was lying and that I just liked to piss myself in public. I nearly died of embarrassment and not the kind of humiliation I enjoyed. This was horrible. She led me by the hand to the car and before even starting the car, she asked what I was thinking. I didn’t have an answer, so she continued on her own. She told me that she had seen the stories I had written on my computer about pissing myself in public and insisted it was not appropriate to piss yourself in public and that it had to stop. I promised to never do it again and I meant it. She grounded me for two weeks.

I went almost a year without doing it again, but the urge just grew stronger and stronger. I became much better at covering my tracks and got away with it about a dozen times during the following six months. My dad bought me a cell phone for my 16th birthday(my parents were divorced and he lived two states away). The phone had a camera which shot photos and video, so I began using it to record myself peeing in public and walking through convenience stores and busy sidewalks in my soaked pants. This turned out to be my undoing, as my mother had been checking my phone for inappropriate texts and photos when I was sleeping.

The morning after she discovered the videos and photos on my phone, she woke me up and told me she had found them. After a lengthy lecture about how much trouble I could get into, she told me that the only way she could think to stop me was to simply allow me to piss myself whenever I wanted. That’s when she pulled out a pullup diaper. When she moved to pull off my pajama pants, I freaked out and refused. She told me straight up that I had a choice of wearing pullups or being permanently grounded and losing my phone, ipod, tv… everything. I thought about it for a minute and realized I couldn’t live without my phone and the idea of being able to piss myself when I wanted was exciting despite the stigma attached to wearing pullups. After agreeing to wear them, I insisted on putting it on myself and she let me. However, she didn’t leave the room and watched as I pulled the pink pullup into place.

The pullups fit a tad snug, as they were designed for younger kids, but they fit really well under my pants. Later that day, mom took me to the mall to buy pants one size larger to be sure nobody would notice them. I peed on the way to the mall and it felt great. After buying several pants, we ate in the food court and I drank a little too much soda. The urge to pee hit again and I just let it happen. Apparently the pullup wasn’t designed to hold that much pee and it leaked out the sides and stained my pants in such a way to make it obvious I was wearing pullups under my jeans. My mom freaked out, but didn’t blame me. She just pulled off her jacket and tied it around my waist. That was too bad, because I was rather enjoying the embarrassment as people noticed the wet spot.

We stopped at a medical supply store on the way home and mom went in by herself. I saw her talking to a lady behind the counter and then they disappeared into the back of the store. She came back to the store with two big bags and put them in the backseat. On the way home, she told me they suggested two options. Adult sized pullups that would hold more than adolescent pullups and adult diapers that held the most. She said we would just have to see which worked best.

At home, I looked at what she had bought. The first bag was a package of cloth backed store brand pullups. They fit well and were easily hidden under my new pants. The panty line was just a little more prominent than regular panties. The other bag contained a package of full on plastic backed disposable diapers. They were Tena brand and a bit thicker than the pullups. Mom insisted I try it on, so I did. The first thing I noticed was that the humiliation of wearing an actual diaper was amazing. If my mom hadn’t been standing there, I might have masturbated on the spot. This was the beginning of my diaper fetish. The Tena diapers were not so easy to hide under my pants. There was a semi-noticeable bulge that would give away the fact that I was diapered to anyone that looked hard enough.

Mom insisted the pullups were the best option, but we would keep the diapers as backup in case we ever ran out. I was intent on the diapers becoming first choice, but didn’t want to tell her I preferred them. Instead I just made the pullups look useless. After wetting the first pullup, I went to the bathroom and poured in enough water to make it leak. I showed mom that they leaked and pretended to be disappointed that I would have to wear the diapers. She already knew about my penchance for peeing in public. I didn’t want to share my newfound love of diapers with her.

From that point on, I wore diapers 24/7. I have only ever peed in them and always use the toilet to poop. I have no desire to mess my diapers and probably never will. At 20 years old, I still live at home and wear diapers while I attend college. Someday, after I graduate, I will have to move out and start my life, but I don’t think I will ever be out of diapers.

Anyway, that is my story and it’s absolutely true. It’s not exactly the tradition ‘diaper punishment’ that many write about, but my diapered life did initially begin as a punishment, so I think it qualifies. 🙂

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