willnotwill

The next day, I went to school in the sleeper again. Abbie came up behind me and put her hands over my eyes. “Guess who?” I smiled. “Abbie, I guess you had no problem picking me out at a distance.” “No, you’re wearing again today?” “And every day. Mom took all my other clothes away.” “Well, at least you’re comfortable. At least, except for the diaper. Besides, you do look cute that way.” I blushed slightly as she hugged me. Well, at least she thought I looked cute. That night, she texted and told me to keep my spirits up. She liked me no matter how I was dressed, and that’s all that mattered. I got into bed, the one time this outfit made a small amount of sense, and fell asleep smiling. I found myself standing in a church. Well-dressed people were in the pews, and I was surrounded by men in tuxes. I wasn’t sure what was going on. The bridal march started, and Abbie started walking down the aisle. She was carrying a bouquet, and her head was in a lacy veil. She was wearing white, but as she neared me I realized it wasn’t a dress. She was wearing a white sleeper. I stepped toward her and realized I was wearing a sleeper as well. We joined hands as the music stopped, and the church erupted into laughter. The entire congregation was laughing and pointing at us. BEEP BEEP BEEP. I was back in my room, and my alarm clock was going off. I punched the snooze button. It had been a dream. That day, I told Abbie about my dream. She just rolled her eyes. “Wishful thinking,” she said. “As if I would get married at fifteen. This isn’t West Virginia, you know.” I stammered a response to that but she just smiled. She was just ribbing me. “Hey, do you want to go to the dance Friday?” “You want to go with someone dressed like this?” I asked, sweeping my arms down my body. “Yes. It will be fun.” “OK.” I padded off to class, smiling to myself. At least Abbie seemed to be enjoying this. I passed one of the fire exits, which someone was holding open. A cool breeze wafted across my hands and face. “Hey, shut the door!” I heard someone call out. “It’s cold.” I thought about what Abbie had said. I had to admit that this was comfortable. I wasn’t going to be cold. And it didn’t scratch or bind me at all. If I could only avoid falling asleep during lectures, it was so comfortable. Except for the diapers. Well, I thought about that. The school bathrooms were no bargain, and I’d not have cause to go in there in the past couple of days. If I could avoid pooping. In any event, the week progressed, and Friday approached. I told Abbie I wished I had a car and could pick her up, but we agreed to meet at the school. My mom dropped me off at the gym entrance and saw Abbie immediately. As I neared her, I found she was dressed in a pink sleeper. “I decided we needed to match again,” she said, and we went inside. We danced a couple of songs, and she suggested we get something to drink. We talked while we had a soda and some cookies. “I hope you don’t mind me coming in a sleeper,” she said. “Not at all,” I said. “It helps that I’m not the only one.” The band started to play a slow song, and Abbie grabbed me by the hand. We moved onto the dance floor, and she pulled close to me. This was heavenly. I felt her hand caress my buttocks through the diaper and sleeper, so I reciprocated. It wasn’t like the satin pajamas, but I was pretty certain she had no underwear underneath. She whispered, “I hope you don’t mind I skipped wearing the diaper.” “Not at all.” She gave me a long kiss as the song ended. This I could get used to. The rest of the dance passed quickly, and soon, it was time to go. We headed out to the parking lot and I saw my mother out of the car talking to another woman. I started over there. “Is that your mom?” Abbie asked. “Yes.” “She’s talking to my mom.” “Oh.” We got into our respective cars. “How was your date?” my mother asked. “Very nice.” “Well, Abbie seems like a nice girl,” my mother said. “She is,” I thought to myself.

Used to be a site called bodysuits.com or something like that with a decent selection of men's stuff. They had crew necks and polo shirt tops on them. I had a few from there. You can get them on Amazon and places like Body Aware for guys. I used to be on the distribution list for printed catalogs from a bunch of these kind of places. My daughter used to kid me about "Don we now our GAY apparel."

She depends on her husband. Make that, she puts depends on her husband. Adult diapers seem to be the choice of whacko criminals everywhere. https://www.washingtonian.com/2016/10/02/schmuhl-home-invasion-torture-session-one-lawyer-nearly-killing-another-washington-suburb-mclean/ When they caught up with him, he was dressed only in a diaper. There's been a few others.

Mom drove me to school, and I walked into the building and headed to the homeroom. Mom then went to take the changing supplies to the nurse. I heard snickering and a comment, “Hey, pajama day was last month.” I bumped into Allie. “Why are you dressed like that?” “My mother’s idea. She found the PJs you bought me and said if I wanted to wear pajamas to school, I should wear these.” “And you wanted to wear this?” she said. “No, she just had me put them back on after I woke up.” “Back on?” I sighed and explained that these were my regular pajamas. “So that’s why you didn’t want to wear your own during spirit week.” “Precisely.” “Well, I think you look cute,” she said, patting my rear. She smiled and asked, “Are you wearing underpants under your PJs again?” “Well, not exactly.” She gave me a longer grope. “Is that…” she said trailing off. “Yeah, it’s a diaper. Mom originally made me wear this to bed because I was bedwetting.” “And now?” “I have to keep wearing the diaper because I can’t get this thing off to get to the toilet.” I demonstrated my trying to reach the zipper.” “Do you want me to help you?” she offered. “Perhaps at some point,” I said. School progressed, and things weren’t too bad. Yes, there were giggles from some of the boys and a few “your mother dresses you funny,” comments from the guys, but he endured. Of course, after lunch, he knew he’d have to wet the diaper, but he’d done that enough. He looked around to see if anybody was noticing, but no. In fact, nobody but Allie should know that he was wearing a diaper under the sleeper. He finally shuffled toward the school bus at the end of the day. Allie sat down beside him. “How’d it go?” she asked. “I’m surviving. I didn’t end up wet until sixth period.” “Oh, poor baby,” she said. When it got to her stop, she stayed on board. “Let me walk you home,” she said. “It’s not too far to backtrack to my house on foot.” They got off the bus at his stop. She grabbed his hand and walked with him. He felt a thousand times better holding her hand and walking with you. When they got to his house, she leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. It was electric. “See you tomorrow.” He went inside, still thinking about Allie. Those pajamas. He wondered if Mom had returned him to the dresser. He pulled open the bottom drawer where he had stashed them. What he found surprised him. There were more sleepers. Different colors than the one he had been wearing. He flipped them up, and sure enough, the blue satin ones were underneath. He held them up to his face and smiled and then put them back. He wasn’t too concerned. Mom did periodically buy a new sleeper for him. It must be getting time to replace the one he had. He then looked in the middle drawer, more sleepers. He pulled out the top drawer where his socks and underwear were stored. It was full of diapers. No socks, no underwear. He sat down on the floor and thought about this. He got up and looked in his closet. There were no clothes in there either. All he had was diapers and sleepers. His mother came into the room. “Ready for a change?” she asked cheerfully. She then looked at the dresser. “I see you’ve been in the diaper drawer. I could get that for you.” “Isn’t that my socks and underwear drawer,” I stammered. “The diapers are your underwear. As for socks, you don’t need those with the footies.” It was finally hitting home. I was now going to be full-time in the sleepers and diapers.

Things continued on the way they were for a few weeks, and then one day I came home from school, and Mom was waiting. She had the silk pajamas. “Do you want to explain these?” I cringed. She had found where I’d hidden them in the bottom of my dresser. I figured there was no point in lying. “Allie gave them to me.” “Why would she give you pajamas?” “It was pajama day at school. She decided it would be cute if we matched. She has a pair just like those.” “You wore these to school?” “It was pajama day,” I pleaded. Mom seemed to be mulling it over, but then she picked up the pajamas and left the room. Oh, well. I’d not see those again. I wasn’t sure when I’d have gotten the chance to wear them again, but I doubt Mom was returning them to my dresser. The weekend came, and I had put the incident out of my mind. Saturday morning, Mom came in to let me out of my sleeper. After she removed the diaper, I found she was reaching for the jar of butt paste. I had a bad feeling about this. She applied some to me and put a new diaper on me. I knew I was going back into the sleeper. Back in the pajamas, she told me to come down for breakfast. I set about my morning routine. I had to pee, so I wet the diaper. I did my chores until lunchtime, not wanting to give my Mom anything else to complain about. As we sat down for lunch, my sister asked, “Why is he still in his pajamas?” “He seemed to like to wear pajamas at inappropriate times, so I’m giving him the opportunity to do so.” Sister thought about that for a bit. As lunch ended, Mom asked me if I needed my diaper changed. There was snickering from my siblings. “He’s got a diaper on, too?” my sister asked. “Yes, he always wears a diaper under his pajamas because he wets the bed.” “But when he’s awake?” “It’s just too difficult to let him out of the sleeper whenever he needs to go. So, he can just use the diaper.” “Ewww.” Mom led me up to my room and changed me. I heard snickering as Mom zipped the sleeper back up. I looked at the open door of my room and saw that my sisters were there, and they must have watched this process. Just great. As I passed by my sister, I heard her quietly taunt, “pissy pants.” I moped around the house for the rest of the afternoon. Then my parents announced we were going out for dinner. “Do you want to be changed before we leave?” my mother asked. I nodded. After removing my wet diaper, she started to put another one on me. I was disappointed. I knew now the sleeper was going back on, and I’d be wearing it to dinner. We got into the car and headed out to Applebee’s. As we waited for our table, I tried to be inconspicuous, but I saw a young boy pulling at his mother’s arm and pointing at me. I guess the idea that there was a teenage boy in a toddler sleeper was pretty odd. At least he didn’t know I had a diaper on. Dinner came, and I ate. At least seated, I wasn’t attracting too much attention. But on our way out, I heard a girl say, “Mom, you said I couldn’t wear my pajamas in public.” I didn’t hear the response. The next morning was a replay of the previous day. I was cleaning up the breakfast dishes when I realized that I was going to need to poop. The cramping got to the point where I couldn’t hold it any longer. I let loose in my diaper with an audible fart. It had been years since I’d been forced to poop in these while I was sick. This was different. I felt the large mass ballooning out the diaper. “Did you just poop?” my sister asked. “No,” I lied. She came over and pushed hard on my rear. I felt poop squish all over my rear. “I think you did.” She yelled out, “Mom, Jason pooped!” While waiting for Mom’s response, Sis turned to me and started chanting, “poopy pants, poopy pants.” “That’s enough of that,” Mom said sternly to Sis. “Since you seem overly interested in his poopy diaper, you can help change him.” Great, I thought. Could this get any worse? “Ewww!” Sis complained, but she knew not to argue with Mom. We went up to my room. My mom spread out a changing pad on the bed, and got me out of the sleeper. She had me lie down. I tried not to spread the poo around any further, but it still smooshed further into my rear as I did. “Remember when you changed your little brother as a baby? Open up the diaper and then use it to remove as much of the poop as you can.” My sister complied but made faces while doing so. My mother took the diaper, rolled it up, and handed Sis wipes to clean me up. Finally, she handed Sis a clean diaper and put it on me. “OK, go wash your hands while I help him back into his sleeper.” Later, Sis came to me. “I hate you. I didn’t sign up to be your diaper changer. Try not to poop anymore today.” I seethed a bit but said nothing. It was her fault for teasing me. Monday morning came, and Mom let me out of the sleeper. But then I saw the butt paste come out. “No! I can’t wear a diaper to school,” I protested. “You have to. You know you can’t get to the toilet with the sleeper zipped up.” “I can’t wear that to school.” “Sure, you can. You wore pajamas to school already. I talked to the assistant principal and he said it would be OK. The nurse said to come to her office if you need a poopy diaper changed.” Resigned, I got back in the sleeper, and she zipped me up.

I get a little tinkle.

High school was working out for me. My grades were mostly OK. I had some run-ins with the assistant principal but nothing serious, I thought. I even had a girlfriend, Allie. She was everything I wanted. We spent a lot of time talking and hanging out together. And she was quite cute. “Are you ready for spirit week?” she asked me one day. “I’ve got a Boston Bruins jersey I’m going to wear on jersey day,” I said. “You’ll like what I have for that day,” she said. “What?” “It’s going to be a surprise,” she said with a smile. “How about pajama day?” I thought about what I wore to bed and cringed. No way I was going to wear that to school. “Nah, I’ll probably skip that. My pajamas suck.” “How about we dress alike. I’ll get us matching pajamas,” she proposed. I thought about that. Sure, why not? We’d be cute together. “OK, but nothing to childish,” I said. “No problem.” Spirit week came, and on Monday, I put on my hockey jersey and made it to school. I got there and found Allie wearing a shirt with a map on it. “What’s this?” I said. “Well, it is Jersey day,” she said. I looked confused still. “She pointed at the map. This is Jersey.” I looked carefully and noted it was a map of New Jersey. She had me. I broke into laughter and she joined in. The next day, she showed up wearing blue satin pajamas. She handed me a package and sent me toward the boy’s room. I took my shirt off and put on the top. It indeed was the same as hers. I slid off my jeans and put the bottoms on. These were really nice. Too bad I didn’t have a set like this at home. I headed out into the hall. “How do I look?” I asked. “Nice she said, adjusting them a bit.” The reached over and gave my rear end a little tweak. “Are you wearing your shorts under this?” “Yeah,” I said, a little embarrassed. “You don’t wear underwear under these.” She grabbed my hand and pushed it against her rear. I was startled, and my hand felt the incredibly soft skin of her buttocks through the satin. “See,” she said. I shrugged and got my underwear off and the bottoms back on. I went back into the hall, and she repeated the little squeeze. “Perfect,” she said. More people started to show up, many in various pajamas. Allie and I were a hit in our matching ones, and some of her friends took pictures of us. She gave me a big hug, our skin pressed together with just the satin between us. It was exciting. As the day passed, I felt the satin against my bare skin. This was an entirely new experience for me. I could wear these every day, I thought. At the end of the day, I switched back into the jeans and t-shirt I had worn to school, carefully folded the pajamas up, and put them in my backpack. Some other day, I thought to myself.

I went back to sleep. When I woke up, I had to pee. I knew what mom’s answer would be so I just resigned myself to wetting the diaper. Oddly, despite my bed-wetting history, I found it difficult to intentionally do it lying in bed. I stood up, got the flow going, and then returned to bed. Mom came with some soup later and asked if I needed a change. After she left, I consumed the soup. I passed the time reading a book I was supposed to write a report on for school. Suddenly, I felt a grumbling in my gut. The sensation grew stronger. “Mom!” I called out. She appeared in my room quickly. “What’s up, dear?” she asked. “I need to use the toilet,” I said. “You need to stay in bed. You have your diaper.” “But I have to poop.” “Let me know when you do. I’ll change you. We don’t want you to get a rash.” Not get a rash? I started to cry. She really expected me to dump in the diaper. I tried to put it out of my mind and went back to reading the book. But soon, it became unbearable, and I just let it happen. A large amount of liquid stool erupted into the diaper. This was disgusting. “Mom!” I cried. She came up and spread a pad on the bed and then started to clean me up. Before putting a new diaper on me, she opened a plastic jar and scooped some of the contents onto her fingers. “What’s that?” I asked in fear. She held the jar up for me to see. Butt Paste, it proclaimed, and a cartoon baby smiled at me from the jar. “We don’t want you to get a rash.” Just great. She spread the stuff over my butt and rediapered me. I was hoping I’d not have to do this again. I made it through the rest of the day without any more poopy diapers, though I did wet. In the morning, Mom took the pajamas off and removed my diaper. She had me roll over on my front, and I saw her pick up a thermometer. I was getting ready for her to place it in my mouth when she went down and pushed it into my rear. “This is how we take temperature in babies,” she said in a childish voice. Just great. After a bit, she pulled it out and pronounced me normal, and told me I could get dressed for school. I was happy to do that. Time passed. I continued to wear the sleeper at night, and on a few days, I was home sick, so I was confined to bed in it. But largely, it remained my personal situation. Oh, there were times we had a babysitter, and Mom insisted we get into our pajamas early, but that wasn’t too bad. I went through larger and larger versions of the sleeper and switched from Pampers to some medical brand of diapers. I had seen commercials for Goodnites and tried that with my mother, but it was no go. It just became a part of my life, and I was unconcerned with it until my sophomore year in high school.

The Utah Elmo-Diaper guy got his conviction reversed by the way. https://www.deseret.com/2014/2/16/20535393/high-court-actions-of-utah-diaper-boy-unusual-but-not-criminal/

Someone inquired about footie pajama stories, so I decided to try one... Part 1: The Footie Life I don’t really remember my toilet training, but I remember getting a set of pajamas with the top separate from the bottoms. The bottoms still had the feet attached, but they were meant to commemorate my big boy status and make it easy for me to get to the toilet at night. I remember growing up and seeing my younger brothers and sisters transition from one-piece sleeper babyhood to regular pajamas. All went fine until I was seven or so. I started to wet the bed. Mom didn’t make a big thing about it at first, but she got annoyed as it became increasingly more frequent. Finally, one day, she snapped. “You can’t keep wetting the bed,” she pronounced one evening. I protested that I was trying, but I couldn’t stop it. “That’s not what I mean,” she said with a smile. “You might still pee at night, but you won’t make the bed wet.” I was bewildered. “Come, let’s get you ready for bed.” She led me to my room and got me out of my clothes. She had me lie down on the bed and then slid something under me and then up between my legs. As she fastened the tapes, I realized it was a diaper. Before I could protest, she threaded something else over my legs. She had me stand up and pull it up the rest of the way, holding it so I could put my arms in it. She zipped it up, and I realized I had been placed in a one-piece sleeper, complete with attached feet. It all dawned on me. The diaper. The sleeper. I was being returned to my babyhood. I started to cry, which completed the transformation. Mom hugged me. “Now, now. This will be best. You don’t want to wake up in a wet bed.” I tried to regain my composure. OK, she was right about the diaper, maybe. “Why do I have to wear the baby pajamas?” I protested. “It’s just a one piece. Lots of people wear them,” she said, though I couldn’t think of anyone who did. “Regular pajamas are for people who need to use the bathroom at night.” “But what if I need to go?” I asked. “You don’t have to worry about that. Just use the diaper.” Great, I thought to myself. Mom proceeded to tuck me in, and I cried a bit more until I fell asleep. The next morning, I rolled out of bed. I stood up and then realized I was wearing the stupid pajamas. I reached around to grab the zipper on the back of the outfit, but I couldn’t reach it. “Mom,” I called out. “What, dear?” “I could use some help.” She came up, and I admitted I couldn’t get out of the pajamas. She reached around behind me and unzipped me. I quickly got the thing peeled off of me. Now, I was standing there in the diaper, which was beginning to sag. “I see you made good use of the diaper,” she said, patting the front of the thing. She quickly undid the tapes and balled the diaper up. “I guess we need to get you a diaper pail.” Sure enough, by that evening, a new item was in my room. I inspected it and found it was a “Diaper Genie.” Just great. Bedtime came, and I was diapered and put in pajamas that night. I soon got into the routine. The good news was that I wasn’t waking up in a wet bed. I had to admit that the diaper was more comfortable than that. The pajamas were a pain because I had to get assisted in and out of them, but at least I never had to wear them out of my room. One after dinner, I got into a brawl with my little brother. By the time my mother got us separated, she was angry. She told us to go to our rooms and get ready for bed. I went upstairs, removed my clothes, and put the diaper on. I got the sleeper in place, and my mother soon arrived and zipped me up. She then told me to come downstairs with her. I got to the living room, and my father and brother were already there. My brother was in his pajamas, but he gave a little smirk at the sight of me. My father started in. “You boys can’t be fighting like that. I was tempted to send you to bed now.” I looked at the clock. It was only 7:30, hours before my bedtime. “But your mother points out you still have some chores to do, and I don’t think you’ve finished your homework. So you can do that in your PJs and then go to bed.” Great. I set about doing the things I had to do. My sister came over and whispered (nice sleeper) to me with a giggle. I reddened but continued to work. After a bit, I realized I needed to use the bathroom. “Mom? Can you help me?” I said, hoping she would understand what I wanted. “Help you what?” she responded. “Unzip me so I can use the bathroom.” “You don’t need to use the bathroom. Just go in your diaper.” My siblings started giggling. She couldn’t be serious. “Get back to work.” I continued what I was doing, but I couldn’t hold hit. I stopped and let loose in the diaper. This was just too much. Eventually, I went to bed. The next morning the diaper sagged heavily with both the wetting from the evening before and my normal nighttime wetting. And so my life progressed. As I outgrew the sleeper, Mom got me a larger one. Except for a few behavior transgressions, I had to get in the diaper early. Then one day, after breakfast, I felt sick. I told Mom I didn’t fell well. She put her hand on my forehead and said she thought I did have a fever. I’d not be going to school. She led me up to my room and grabbed a diaper. Ugh. I knew I was going to be in the sleeper for the duration.

I was writing a story and wanted to include a reference to a Diaper Genie in it. It's been a bunch of years since my first diaper genie died, and I have not replaced it. As of late, I've just been using a metal kitchen (foot pedal) trashcan I got from Costco when they were on sale. I note they now have a new metal diaper genie platinum with different bags that looks like it might be a little nicer for larger diapers. I'm tempted to get one but wanted to know if anybody has any experience.

I started with a diaper genie because I thought the babyish ness of it was cool. I switched to a Janibell but I'm not sure I like it. I now just have a large foot-pedal-lifts-the-lid stainless tall kitchen can I got on sale at Costco a few months back.

Holy Necropost, Batman! I guess I can't get them any more

Going live where?

I was pretty good at keeping my stuff hidden (especially back in those days were I was more up tight) so the kids never were directly exposed to it. Of course, kids are kids and they'll get into things no matter how good you are. I'm fairly certain my daughter found out even though she never really mentioned it (though a couple of times she made comments that had me wondering).