September, 1939

[Angela Bauer]

September, 1939

 

Fiction by Angela Bauer

As told to her by her loving husband, Don Davis

 

On the Sunday of Labor Day Weekend 1939 my Granny took me to brunch with Joel and his beautiful mother Virginia Lee Woodhouse.

It turned out that they had just moved near us and that Joel would be a classmate in Third Grade. What I only found out decades later was that Virginia Lee became one of my mother’s best friends at Vassar College.

Our brunch went so well that it was arranged that I would spend the next weekend with the Woodhouse’s at the townhouse Virginia had just purchased a couple of blocks north of us.

Joel and I shared many interests. Virginia seemed to be as nice as she was attractive. I spent the next several days in eager anticipation. On Friday morning Granny helped me pack my suitcase with clothing. To my disappointment this included several pair of my PlayTex stretchy latex baby pants, as well as a few classic Curity flat gauze 4-ply diapers.

“Granny, do I have to? I only wet occasionally,” I protested mildly, because she gave me a meaningful glare as she pointed to the heavy hairbrush on my bedside table.

“Donny, you cannot take the chance of wetting the bed. That could be most embarrassing. I am sure Mrs. Woodhouse will be discreet. Besides I already told her about your wetting. She did not insist that you be diapered, but your mother and I agree that is for the very best.”

It was with a heavy heart that I trudged off with Granny, lugging my suitcase.

Much to my surprise the door was answered by a woman named Clarissa. Joel was standing in the shadows behind her. Once the door was closed my eyes adjusted to the dim light.

Joel was wearing just a diaper inside PlayTex pants. His diaper was far wetter than any I had worn. No wonder Virginia was so open to me wearing diapers.

Clarissa offered Granny a cup of coffee, then said, “Please excuse me, Ma’am, I need to change Joel’s diaper for the day.”

“Thanks for the coffee. Would you mind also diapering Donny? He has some, as well as rubber pants, in his suitcase,” Granny said, as if this was perfectly normal for Third Grade boys to wet.

“Will Donny need diapers all weekends, Ma’am?”

“Please use your own judgment. I want Joel to be comfortable. Donny does not wet every night, but he does wet often enough that he is diapered nightly at home,” Granny casually replied.

“No problem, Ma’am. Mrs. Woodhouse told me about Donny’s bed diapers. We have more than enough. By the way, the spare bed also is always made up with a rubber sheet.”

Granny was still sipping her coffee while Clarissa took us by the hand. Thus I lugged my suitcase up to Joel’s bedroom. Much to my surprise in addition to a pair of beds, there was a very large changing table and the biggest playpen I had ever seen in the room.

Joel blushed in embarrassment: “When Mommy is mad at me she calls this my ‘Nursery’.”

Disposable diapers and wipes were still in the future back then. On a shelf just under the changing surface was a bowl. Clarissa told me to undress completely before she left us alone.

When she returned she was carrying a pitcher of warm water. That she poured into the bowl. Joel’s PlayTex pants were lowered while he stood at the bowl end of the table. There was a step stool. Clarissa helped Joel use it to climb onto the table. Obediently he reclined face up.

She removed both pins, which she stuck into the breast pocket of her uniform. She folded the front of his wet diapered down, between Joel’s legs. Then she took a clean diaper from a stacker hanging from the wall behind the table. She immersed that in the bowl then wrung it out.

Joel’s pubic area was wiped clean. She used another diaper to dry him. She pulled the soaked diaper from under him and deposited it in the diaper pail.

As she returned the cleaning diaper to the bowl Joel obediently turned over. Clarissa had him lift up so she could wipe and dry his backside.

I could not help noticing several obvious hairbrush marks on Joel’s lower buttocks and upper thighs. A glance revealed a heavy hairbrush upon his bedside cabinet. No wonder Joel was so cooperative about being diapered.

The Curity diaper used to dry Joel was folded with a dry one from the stacker. He lifted up so his diaper could be slid under him. Expertly Clarissa snugged and pinned the diaper. He lifted his legs so his PlayTex pants could be slid on. He lifted again so she could slide them over his diaper into position. Then she made sure none of the diaper tried to escape the pants.

Joel was helped to climb down. Next it was my turn to be helped onto the table.

My underpants had been dry so technically I did not need to be cleaned. However, Clarissa was thorough. I reclined. I pretended I was on a soaked diaper as my pubic area was wiped clean and then dried. I turned over and my backside was cleaned.

Bummer if Joel was disappointed. My most recent spanking had been Tuesday evening so my marks had all faded.

After I reclined again Clarissa folded my drying diaper with another. I lifted and those were slid under me. Soon my diaper was snug and pinned. Since my suitcase was still closed Clarissa took a pair of PlayTex baby pants from Joel’s drawer. I lifted my legs and then my bottom so she could pull the pants into place and double check for escaping diaper. I was helped down.

“Donny, usually Joel just wears a diaper at home, even when playing in the garden. Would you like a shirt?” Clarissa nicely asked.

“No, Ma’am. I might as well just wear a diaper,” I answered.

I had eaten breakfast at home. After we had been playing briefly in the rear garden she brought us juice. What shocked me was that the juice was inside baby bottles. I had absolutely no memory of using a baby bottle.

Joel sat down and put the nipple into his mouth. He held the bottle as if he had done so all his life as he suckled it.

Clarissa sensed my inexperience and confusion. She sat in the nursery’s rocker. She asked me to bring my baby bottle. I reclined on her lap. She fed me that bottle. It was a divine feeling.

“Donny, Mrs. Woodhouse believes that children who wear diapers still are comforted with bottles. Just tell me if you want to hold your own bottle.”

“No, Ma’am, I don’t remember using a baby bottle. Please feed me,” I answered.

Once we had finished our bottles, and been burped, we were allowed to resume playing.

“Boys, if you need a diaper change before lunch just find me. Donny, normally Joel can make it. There is no shame needing to ask for a clean diaper sooner. Just be sure to tell me when you have wet so you can be changed before you leak.”

The second that Clarissa was out of sight, Joel told me, “Donny. I don’t get spanked for wetting, but I get spanked very hard if I leak because I forgot to ask for a change.”

Seconds later I did wet my diaper. I had not felt the need to use a toilet since we started walking to Joel’s house. Thus that wetting in my diapers was very large. I waddled more than I ran to tell Clarissa.

She told me she was going to do “a diaper check”. She prodded the front of my diaper through my Playtex pants: “It is possible your diaper is not soaked, but let’s not take a chance.”

As I was being led back to Joel’s Nursery, I asked, “Ma’am, may I use the toilet? I think I need to grunt.”

“Donny, that is a good idea. If nothing happens right away, I’ll diaper you. When you do need to use the toilet again just tell me. When Joel messes his diaper he gets changed and also gets spanked,” Clarissa explained.

Actually I did grunt successfully that time. I wiped myself, but while cleaning me Clarissa used some soap on the wiping diaper.

Although after lunch my diaper was still dry, while Joel used the toilet I got another change. I must say Clarissa was very good at changing diapers.

Virginia got home from work surprisingly early. It was a rare day when my mother got home before 6:30 PM or my father before 7:30 PM. Several nights a week mom and dad met for dinner at restaurants. I would be served dinner by my nanny.

Another surprise was that Virginia had gone shopping. She unpacked the bag on the kitchen table after inviting Joel and me to watch.

Inside were many tubes of PlayTex baby pants. It turned out we both wore the same size. There were several more EvenFlo baby bottles with latex nipples; also a few pacifiers.

Clarissa was tasked washing and sterilizing a pair of the pacifiers which were distinctive from the kind Joel used.

“Donny, as soon as a new pacifier is cool you may use it,” Virginia said.

“Thank you, Ma’am, very much. I don’t want a pacifier,” I responded as politely as I could.

“Young Man, using a pacifier is not optional. Not only will you use a pacifier when told to do so, you will enjoy using a pacifier. Youngsters who wet diapers still need baby bottles and pacifiers,” she told me.

“Who would have guessed that I would have to spank you before I spanked Joel. Go to the nursery and wait for your spanking like a naughty little boy!”

When we left the apartment that morning I only expected to wear diapers to bed. I went along with the day diapers to keep Joel company. I found the baby bottles fun. I had second thoughts about refusing pacifiers.

“Mrs. Woodhouse, Ma’am, I apologize. I see your point. I’m a silly boy who needs diapers. I should use a pacifier. Can I have a second chance? Please?”

“Sure, Donny, you can have second and third chances to obey. However, you still will be spanked for initially arguing and disobeying. Is that crystal clear?”

I hung my head, wet my diaper and stammered, “Yes, Ma’am.”

As I shuffled and waddled to the nursery, behind me I heard Virginia say, “Joel, come with me to observe Donny’s spanking. I hope that teaches you to obey Clarissa and me!”

My reaction was to pee my diaper again.

I was marched to an empty corner of the nursery, facing inward. Joel was left in the opposite corner, facing outward. Mrs. Woodhouse [since she was about to spank me I decided to no longer think of her as ‘Virginia’] moved a straight back armless chair to the changing table such that her left hand could easily reach the bowl.

She left the nursery carrying the partially filled bowl and the pitcher. She soon returned with the now-empty bowl and the pitcher. She filled the bowl and put it on its shelf. From a drawer of the table she withdrew what I recognized as a waterproof crib underpad which she placed on the table top. Finally she moved the heavy wooden oval hairbrush from the bedside table to the shelf beside the bowl.

I was called to her. As I stood there my PlayTex panty was removed. Then she un-pinned my diapers and removed them. The outside diaper was barely wet. That she placed in the bowl. Temporarily she put the wetter diaper and the pants on the table top. She took her seat on the chair and spread the underpad to protect her lap.

Mrs. Woodhouse pulled me over her lap and underpad with my head to her left. She barely rung-out the diaper in the bowl. With that she soaked my backside and upper thighs.

She began to scold me harshly seconds before the first hairbrush spank landed. On my wet bottom it hurt worse than any previous spank I had received. Maybe she only spanked me 25 or 30 times. I dissolved in tears after only a few spanks and continued to blubber like a baby.

All I felt was the sting and throbbing as I was held in place until I cried it all out. I was marched back to the corner. While I sniffled there she cleared the changing table.

Eventually I was helped onto the table top where a triple diaper was waiting. I whimpered as she pinned that on me and pulled up my PlayTex pants. I was returned to the corner for several more minutes.

Clarissa brought a freshly sterilized pacifier. Mrs. Woodhouse put in into my mouth. As soon as I began to work my pacifier I was led to dinner, still sniffling slightly. I trembled.

There was no conversation at the dinner table.

I was led back to the nursery and put to bed. I watched as Joel was cleaned and triple diapered for bed. He was tucked in and then kissed good night.

As always following a spanking it took me quite some time to drift off to sleep. I must have eventually done so because my next memory was being led to the changing table before dawn.

Clarissa helped me up. She removed my rubber pants and diaper. She very gently wiped me clean and then dried me. While I was on my tummy she anointed and soothed my rump with baby lotion, saying, “This is our secret from Mrs. Woodhouse!”

She finished diapering me and tucked me back to bed with a gentle kiss.

In the morning my bottom still throbbed and my diaper was very wet. It was Saturday. Mrs. Woodhouse got us up. She told me it was “Just too bad your backside is sore, Donny. Next time I hope you behave well without the need for a spanking!”

Our diapers were removed in the nursery. Naked we were led down the hall to the bathroom. The tub held luke-warm water. We were put into the tub. Mrs. Woodhouse washed us as if we were actual infants. We were roughly towel-dried before being returned to the nursery for day diapers.

There were baby bottles of milk and juice in the dining room. Breakfast consisted of Pablum and Gerber’s banana baby food. Again my bottles were held for me. There was a highchair in the kitchen but that time neither of us was forced to use it.

We played the rest of the morning. I did find Mrs. Woodhouse when I needed to grunt in the toilet. I did so and used toilet paper. In the nursery she put soap on the washing diaper. But she did not use either powder or lotion before I was diapered.

Clarissa returned from her morning off in time to fix us lunch. We had bottles of juice and milk plus peanut with jelly sandwiches. Dessert consisted of one small cookie each.

We were diapered and put down for naps, with our pacifiers. Clarissa said, “Donny, you suckle it like a pro. What a shame you refused yesterday and needed the spanking.”

It was nearly time for dinner before Mrs. Woodhouse returned, dressed as if she had been on a date. She did not eat with us.

Before bed Clarissa undressed us and removed our diapers. The bowl was filled with hot water, with a diaper soaking. Two underpads and the hairbrush were waiting on the table top.

Mrs. Woodhouse entered and moved the spanking chair into position. I was sent to the same corner as on Friday. Joel was spanked first. He made more noise than I had.

I was told that Saturday pre-bed spankings were administered to punish all misbehavior not discovered during the week. Although my bottom was wet, the spanking was no way as hard as the one on Friday.

Clarissa returned and Mrs. Woodhouse left. We were each sent to use the toilet before being diapered for bed. I managed to grunt-out.

Again, during the night, Clarissa changed our diapers. I was changed first, so I was awake to watch Joel being diapered.

Sunday morning we had to get up early for church. Although there was a chapel only a half block west of Joel’s home for reasons never explained my family attended a church many blocks east of us. Mrs. Woodhouse had joined that congregation when she moved to Greenwich Village a couple of months previously.

One of the few times, before meeting Joel, that I routinely wore a diaper was to church. I had a pair of formal trousers altered to conceal my diapers. Granny had packed those for my weekend. Joel also had dress-up trousers to hide diapers.

Clarissa packed a large and hardly discreet diaper bag. She would serve as our nanny, tending to us in Sunday school so that Mrs. Woodhouse could attend the main service.

 

[parkintochter]

how did you write almost exactly the same story like Les Lea?

[Angela Bauer]

18 hours ago, parkintochter said:

how did you write almost exactly the same story like Les Lea?

If you go back to the page I wrote in the old days for DPF you will find I shared about something my husband had told me about growing up from age 8-12 under the influence of a Mrs. Virginia Woodward, mother of his then best friend Joel. You will find this in a fall 1996 DPF Newsletter. This story SEPTEMBER 1939 started as a draft I began in 2012. I got sidetracked and only recently discovered those files on a server I seldom use.

Let us face the reality that there are only so many plots about anything. This is why a plot cannot be protected by copyright. What a copyright protects is THE EXPRESSION OF IDEAS contained in works of fiction.

Very popular in AB fiction is a child coming under the influence of an adult who is not their parent. That actually happens in real life. My husband when he was about to start third grade came under the spell of the tall and beautiful mother of his new best friend. According to him her first name actually was Virginia and her son's last name was similar to Woodward. I deliberately have never asked for their actual names.

Very common in fiction is the concept of being bewitched. It is entirely possible somewhere there is a cave with a story carved on a wall about a beautiful person leading a younger preson astray.