Search the Community

George awoke slowly. He checked his bed. it was dry. At age eleven it was good to wake up in a dry bed. He got up and marked his calendar. He wrote "Dry" for the night. He looked it over. He only four wet nights in a whole month. This was the best month ever.Last month he was wet ten times. Most of that was in the first half. He was battling with the wet alarm. He had finished peeing before he even woke up. His parents was about to give up. They thought he was lazy. Almost put him back into diapers.Then suddenly he was beating the alarm. He had three weeks without the alarm going off at all. His mother came in without knocking. Bed-wetters don't get earn it. She had the paddle with her. "How did you do?" He showed off his dry bed. "Great job. Maybe next month you won't have any accidents. Get you out of this preschooler bed into a full size bed. Now I got to check on your brother." Billy was his brother. He was nine. He wet the bed only about four or five times a month. They didn't use the alarm because one alarm was hard enough. He did tease George for wetting the bed every night at his age. George hoped to return the favor. He listen. Billy had wet the bed twice in a row. It wasn't likely he would wet again but he could hope. Three nights in a row or in a week meant a spanking. For him, any wet night meant a spanking. He was just too old for it. He didn't hear anything for a bit so assume Billy was dry but then he heard. Smack and a cry. And again smack and a cry. After another smack the cry didn't stop. His brother was bawling like a baby now. Yes, he had wet the bed again. He has to see this.

Stevie’s Story Part 1 Stevie hated to travel. He hated it because ever since he was a baby his father had insisted that whenever they went anywhere, by car, bus, train or plane; he and later his sister always had to be put into protection for the trip. * He’d tried when he was five to rebel against this unjust rule but, when he’d found himself bare arsed over his daddy’s knee and getting a sound spanking and afterwards still being made to wear diapers and plastic pants over his stinging bottom, he saw the error of arguing against an adult. Even now, though resentment coursed through his thirteen year-old body, he knew better than to defy his father. Just one look from his uncompromising face made sure that he did just as daddy said. His six year-old sister Eva never argued, she just did as she was told and put up with the bulky protection that accompanied them on any journey. His mother supervised they were both wearing the prescribed clothing for any trip as it was simply one of her husband’s golden rules. She understood why he was so insistent on this particular ‘rule’, she didn’t see it as anything but a sensible precaution so was more than happy to go along with his few quirks and foibles, after all, he was a wonderful, generous, loving husband and father. Stevie’s daddy Thomas wasn’t a bad daddy. At forty he was at his peak; six foot two, clear complexion (he was often mistaken for a lot younger), a slim but solid figure of which any athlete would be proud, his brown hair cut short and on top of all that his business was doing well. In many ways he was perfect but it seemed that on this one issue, ‘kids travel’, he was a tyrant and unbending in his insistence on them being fully protected for the journey. It had been something he’d been made to adopt when he was a child, well up into his teens after which his parents announced he was old enough to be well aware of his own toilet needs. He himself had rebelled at the idea of wearing diapers on any journey but was often reduced to being seen as a ‘silly little boy’ when he’d arrive at the destination and realise that he was in fact soaked through; the protection doing its job and saving him from an embarrassing puddle. Indeed, the ‘puddle’ predicament had been what started this generational ruling for overly protective padding. * Steve’s granddaddy, Thomas’s father, had made it a rule after his six year-old ‘big boy’ son had fallen asleep and left a huge puddle on the car seat during a long drive. That damp patch was never really forgiven and to reinforce that memory, the young Thomas had to wear a diaper on any such future outings. It was only when he went off to college that the diapering stopped being insisted upon by his father. However, the long bus trip from home to college had consequences. During the journey Thomas had fallen asleep only to wake up to find he was severely wet. The embarrassment of the spreading damp patch and soaked seat meant there was nothing he could do to hide what had happened. However, at that moment he wished above anything else that he’d listened to his father and taken the precaution of a thick diaper “Just to be on the safe side”. He’d mocked his father’s advice, mocked the very idea of these days (or any other) needing any sort of protection at his age, yet now he was feeling the shame of wet pants and the folly of ridiculing his father’s wise suggestion. His fellow newbie’s to the college had noticed the very discernible damp patch and from that moment on Thomas garnered the nickname of “Peepants”, a sobriquet that followed him throughout his college years. It didn’t help that the first and second night in the dorm he also wet the bed but managed to smuggle the evidence out before his roomie was aware. After that he wore protection every night until he was sure that no more accidents would occur. However, he wet often in those first few months and was glad he could hide the fact by being well protected on a night. He was very embarrassed about what had happened but decided that prevention was more instant than trying to find a cure and knew he’d be more self-conscious if he continued to wet and the nickname was to become engraved in stone. At least if they didn’t know what he did (or didn’t do) he could laugh off their jibes and pretend it had been a one-off experience. However, that embarrassment became such an imprint on his mind he didn’t ever want to be in such a shameful situation again. So deep was his anxiety for wetting in any situation it became an obsession so that when his own children came along they were paying for that fear and humiliation even though they didn’t know it. * Of course young Stevie knew nothing of this and simply resented having to wear such thick diapers. He’d only recently become a teenager so thought that like his peers, he should be allowed to do whatever he wanted. So far his cute looks and blond hair (from his mother’s side of the family) for some reason meant at school he could get away with almost anything, although at home his daddy would see through any deception and his big blue eyes were of no help. If he even looked like he was going to complain his father simply made him wear them for longer. Moaning and whining also produced the same penalty - the wearing of diapers and plastic pants throughout their stay - where ever that may be. The only time the dress code was relaxed was if they went to the beach or to a pool and then bathing costumes were allowed. However, as soon as that finished, or if there had been any whingeing, it was back to re-diapering, in public if there was nowhere else to change. This punishment was available but rarely enforced because over the years both their children had learned the consequences of insubordination. Besides, they weren’t spoilt or naughty little brats constantly in need of chastising; they were, for the most part, well behaved children of which any parent would be proud. Normally, as soon as they reached their destination both were then allowed back into their usual underwear. That was until Stevie got in to a quarrel about the fact that his diaper was too bulky and obvious and everyone knew what he was wearing. Not only did he argue with his mother about its size he shouted and swore at her for making him into a ‘sissy little baby’. This reaction had happened because they’d stopped at a services station on their way to their seaside destination. There were only a couple more hours to go but as both Stevie and Eva had said they urgently needed the bathroom Thomas had pulled onto the forecourt and let them out. Stevie was old enough to be able to sort himself out, whereas Eva needed her mother’s help. Meanwhile, father went and bought a few snacks for the rest of the journey and filled the car up with fuel. His mother was shocked at such an outburst. Although she wasn’t to know that it had been brought about by something another boy had taunted whilst Stevie was visiting the restroom. Although the reason for the protection was to contain any ‘accidents’ the children weren’t made to use them. If they could make it to the bathroom all the better, alas on this particular occasion his protection had been seen and ridiculed. The other boy, who was slightly older than Stevie laughed, pointed and couldn’t wait to tell his friends what he’d just seen. Stevie felt the humiliation grow as he struggled, after he’d peed successfully, to rearrange the obvious bulk in his shorts but as the boy sniggered contemptuously, unfortunately for Stevie that shame transformed into tears. The other boy couldn’t believe his luck and took great delight in teasing and calling him a “Sissy little baby who needed to go poo-poo in his little diapee”. * Alas, Stevie wasn’t equipped to deal with this verbal assault and simply wasn’t a match for such a self-confident bully so all he could do was cry and run from the vicious taunting. However, on his return to his mother, the torment had become too much, so had the exasperation of his situation so, with the bully’s words echoing in his head, he let loose a stream of anger towards her. His sister and mother both looked at Stevie in shock. Never had he used such words and never had he been so disrespectful to his mother, worse though was that his father overheard his vitriolic attack and decided to act there and then. Not caring who was around his daddy grabbed him by the arm and without so much as a word of warning, pulled his son’s shorts and protection down and spanked him hard in public. Amongst others, the young bully and his friends witnessed the spectacle and although part of them felt sorry for the poor guy, another part thought it was what a diaper-wearing cry-baby deserved, they were just thankful they were not on the receiving end of the very hard thrashing. Stevie’s little bottom glowed before his father stopped. Once he did he pulled up his sons diaper but wouldn’t let him have his shorts and told him to get in the car. The spectators, who had witnessed both the boy’s outburst and its consequences, were mumbling support and disgust in equal amounts at what had just happened then moved off and left the family to sort out their own domestic situation. Stevie, wearing only his diaper, sat in the car bawling his eyes out, his father, who had calmed down a bit was trying to appease his wife who thought that the punishment had gone too far. However, Thomas would have none of it and explained that if he didn’t nip such bad behaviour in the bud now, who knew where it could all end. He simply was not prepared to have a son who disrespected his parents, or anyone else for that matter, no, that type of behaviour would not be tolerated. * Stevie had made a bad situation worse and through his tear-stained eyes understood he’d done wrong attacking his mother in front of everybody. However, he thought his father’s response had been very cruel. There was a mixture of feelings running through his body, defiance and sorrow, but it was sorrow that was winning because his bottom stung as he sat trying desperately not to wriggle about in the diaper. Strangely enough, as he did, it was offering some sort of comfort but he just couldn’t stop crying at what he thought had been a gross injustice. Unfortunately for Stevie his timing could not have been worse. They had not been far from their destination and his mother was just about to relieve him and his sister of their diapers in preparation to the start of what was expected to be an enjoyable vacation. Alas, Stevie watched as his sister was changed out of her protection and put into her sweet flowery nylon panties, and all he could do was sit there dressed solely in his diaper feeling angry, humiliated, sore and hard done by. Dejected and humiliated his tears started again as they drove off whilst his constant bleating to his parents that it wasn’t fair that his sister was allowed out of her protection while he, her older brother, had to stay in his, made it more or less certain he would be wearing a diaper for the rest of their trip. His father warned him that if there was any further complaining not only would he be wearing diapers for the rest of the holiday, that’s all he’d be wearing. This news set him off on another round of tears but this time he didn’t voice his distress he just blubbed to himself and tried to hide away from the rest of the family. * That’s difficult when you’re sat in the rear seat of a family car. Eva was sitting next to him proudly wearing her grown-up panties under her dress and she kept looking across at her brother as he struggled to feel comfortable in just his diaper. She tried her best to get her brother to join in a game, or read her a story but he sat grumpily, arms folded and seething. Like the rest of the family Eva was pretty and cute. Indeed when out together the entire family looked like they’d just stepped off the cover of some fashion magazine. Even when they dressed casually they looked the part of models ready to go about their posing and little Eva just set the family package off to a T with her curly blond hair, pixie-like looks and sweet demeanour. However, at that moment at least one of the models was not happy: Stevie didn’t even have plastic pants to try and hide the soft mass that was, despite his anger and frustration, keeping him snug and his bottom away from the firm seat adding to his pain. For a second he plotted some kind of revenge. He thought he’d teach his father a lesson and wet himself on purpose… thus soaking the seat. Well, that was the way his mind was thinking. Sadly, that little scheme wouldn’t work even if he’d had the guts to try it as he’d just emptied his bladder at the gas station. So, even if he could force something out, it would hardly have dampened his diaper never mind leave a mess. He was thwarted and sat squirming around, this action comforted and settled him down, which soon saw him dozing quietly for the remainder of the journey. * When they arrived at the hotel Stevie was in for another surprise, he had wet himself. He wasn’t soaked through but he was undoubtedly wet and that inhibited him from getting out of the car. He was worried what his father would say, he was worried that others would see his drooping diaper and he was totally embarrassed that his father had been correct about him wearing a diaper to avert this type of accident. He simply didn’t want to get out of the car but the threat of another public spanking made him swallow any pride he had and follow the rest of the family into the hotel lobby. His mother had promised that she’d change him as soon as they got to their room but until then, he’d simply have to make do. He dare not look at any of the other vacationers who were milling around the huge hotel foyer. To Stevie there seemed to be hundreds of people, kids and adults, all looking at him and his very droopy diaper. He tried to hide behind his case but, as it was on wheels and too heavy to carry, he had to drag behind him. This offered too good an opportunity to some of the kids who noticed and were noisily indicating the fact to others while laughing at the new arrival. It looked quite bizarre as they booked in and got the key to their room that the little girl was dressed normally but her older brother appeared to be the baby of the family. I’m sure many of the children who witnessed this spectacle had made up their own minds but the adults would have known that the boy in diapers was being punished for some reason. It was true that a few of the parents wondered how effective such a punishment might be and wanted to talk to Stevie’s parents to find out; no doubt thinking that they might use it on their own unruly kids. Little did the boys that were hooting with derision at Stevie know that their own day of reckoning was not that far off. * To be continued

This may have some religious undertones, but if you look past that and look at what it is saying it applies to many people and how they deal with the diapers in their lives. It took me a long time to move past shame and embarrassment of people knowing or seeing my diapers and once I did I was able to start living life, not having to worry if someone found diapers or my nursery just own it and be me, be free. This was just something I ran across and thought that it may help someone, read, comment and talk.

If you go to a site like https://www.tumblr.com/ you will see so many AB "Daddy's Girls" these days. I guess they have given the wake up call to other females with daddy issues or women that desire a little extra TLC that it's okay. Wouldn't most heterosexual females agree they seek the idea of being taken care of by a big strong man in their life? It doesn't mean it's a clone or even a replacement of their real bio father. Rather a different meaning for the same word. So, does anyone care to help by adding their thoughts to what I started? If you go to a site like https://www.tumblr.com/ you will see so many AB "Daddy's Girls" these days. I guess they have given the wake up call to other females with daddy issues or women that desire a little extra TLC that it's okay. Wouldn't most heterosexual females agree they seek the idea of being taken care of by a big strong man in their life? It doesn't mean it's a clone or even a replacement of their real bio father. Rather a different meaning for the same word. In the past, almost any ex I trusted with my diaper desires usually took to idea and loved to play the "Daddy's Girl" role initially. And I enjoyed helping to fulfill the “Daddy” role with them and for them. I’d care for them as a little girl would want and need to be taken care of. And it all gave me a sense of purpose. From a Guys perspective, it was good for me since it helped me feel more like a Man. Even if it was changing her wet Huggie’s or bottle feeding her. It was just a different way to show her my love I felt for her. Being mostly a DL, I was just "Daddy" wearing a diaper. It was all about them. But it worked for me as well. When it became sexual, it was two consenting adults either in a role/age play. Or sometimes we’d play it straight. To me, it was never about a Father having sex with his Child. It never really crossed my mind that way. But, eventually some of my ex's took the term too literal. And they began to feel shame and disgust for their behavior. Especially if they shared what was meant to be private with a friend or family member. And I used to be the blame for what they did. They usually purged the role, the idea and me out of their life in their new found disgust. It was an empty feeling to say the least. In my 20's, I sometimes would go through the same feelings of shame and end up purging the diapers, and other AB/DL things. Now, I know how to embrace and even be somewhat proud of being a lifelong DL. I hope any Girl that has joined us here feels first off this is a safe place for you. Most Guys here are decent. But if you feel you are being harassed by anyone, check in with a Moderator if needed. Also, understand this... It's okay, natural and sometimes necessary to want to be little again. So if you have a consenting and understanding Man (or Woman) in your life. Calling them "Daddy" doesn't mean you’re perverted. Most of us aren’t thinking of the real one. It's just a name. If you are uncomfortable with the name think up a new one. Sometimes, I want to be cared for, but I cannot call anyone "Mommy". And I haven't tried Daddy, yet. I like having a Babysitter, or a care taker. Like the one I remember from my real childhood. Sometimes you may want to add in a childhood memory. For some it's not a good idea. I have good and bad memories. Or sometimes, I like to even be a little Girl with pigtails and lots of PINK