The boy who wanted diapers

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Prologue

What would happen if a fourteen-year-old boy just stopped using the potty, and peed his pants all the time?  This is the story of a teenage kid who wants to wear diapers again and decides to keep wetting his pants until his mom puts him back in diapers.  How long will it take?  How long will it last?  Is this a dream come true, or will it be a night that he regrets? 

Side note- this story includes a wet dream, but I don’t get detailed about the dream, and he doesn’t understand what it is.  Therefore, I don’t believe it is sexual in any way.  If a moderator believes this to be in violation, please IM me, and I will remove the story.

The boy who wanted diapers

I like diapers and I have always liked them.  It’s been that way for as long as I can remember.  I don’t remember the specifics of my early potty-training years, but I know that I wasn’t fully potty-trained until I was nearly five.  I remember wearing diapers on my fourth birthday, and at some point, I stopped wearing them during the day.  However, I still had accidents, and my mom would put me in Pull-ups and even diapers if I had too many.  I remember my mom saying, “Big boys don’t wear diapers,” but I don’t think I cared.   I think I was jealous of my little sister, who is three years younger than me.  I was put back in diapers after Jessica’s second birthday, which is at the end of May.  My birthday is in September, so this was only three months before my fifth birthday.  Since I wasn’t fully potty trained, my mom decided to wait another year for me to start kindergarten, which was a good thing because I wasn’t ready.

I guess putting me back in diapers worked because I didn’t need them anymore after my fifth birthday.   I didn’t even wet the bed anymore.   However, I was jealous of Jessica, who was two years old and still not potty trained.  I wanted to get the same attention that she got, and when I saw my mom changing Jessica’s diaper I asked, “Can I wear a diaper?”

My mom replied, “Honey, you’re a big boy.  Big boys don’t wear diapers.  Why do you want to wear a diaper?”

I shrugged because I didn’t know why.  “I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry honey, but no.  Big kids don’t wear diapers.”

I stomped my foot and cried out, “BUT I WANT TO!  Please, Mommy!”

Mom snapped, “Jacob, stop that!  You’re not a baby.”

I protested and said, “I’m going to poop my pants.”   I squatted down and pushed a big load into my underwear.

She grabbed my hand and said, “If that’s what you want, that’s what you’re going to get.”

I suddenly realized what I did, and what it meant.  I asked, “What are you going to do?”

Mom answered, “Pooping your pants on purpose means that you’re not a big boy.  You need to go back to diapers.”

I protested, “I’m still a big boy.”

Mom answered, “Not if you poop your pants.  This means that you’ll be treated just like Jessica.”

She cleaned me up, put me in a diaper, and then made me take a nap in Jessica’s crib.  I even ate dinner in a highchair.   I don’t remember how long it took, but it was several days before my mom even let me use the potty again.   When I didn’t tell her that I needed to use the potty, she said, “I guess you’re not ready yet,” so I stayed in diapers.    She acted like it was completely normal and kept treating me like I was a baby. I even had to use a stroller, like my sister.

I ended up staying in diapers for a few weeks and still had accidents after that.  I got put in Pull-ups after each accident and had to wear a diaper if I had an accident in my Pull-ups.  Whenever I wore a diaper, I was treated like a baby.   That was my mom’s rule.  It lasted until Jessica was potty trained, and no longer wearing diapers.   I didn’t want to wear diapers if Jessica got to wear underwear, so I stopped having accidents.

I was still fascinated with diapers, but I don’t remember having major issues with the potty.  Fortunately, those desires seemed to ebb into the background after I turned eight.  They were still there, but I had other interests and the wish for diapers wasn’t a major one.  I wanted to wet my bed, but I never did.  In reality, I was pretty good at holding my pee.  I could always pee if I needed to, and I could hold it when there wasn’t a bathroom available.  Strangely, through most of this time, it was my sister who had those problems.  She had giggle incontinence and occasionally wet her pants.  She had to wear Pull-ups, but much to my chagrin never had to wear diapers.

I didn’t mature emotionally, or physically at the same rate as my classmates.  I started kindergarten late, so I was always one of the older kids in my class, but I was also one of the smallest.   It wasn’t such a big deal in third grade, because we were all little kids.   But it became a bigger deal as we got older.   A teacher once yelled at me when I was in sixth grade because she thought I was on the wrong playground.  She thought I belonged on the K-3 playground, and not the 4-6 playground.

It was even worse in middle school because my friends seemed to be growing up, while I stayed the same.   They were interested in girls, and I wasn’t.  My friends would make out with their girlfriends, and some even bragged about having sex.  I pretended to understand, but I really didn’t and didn’t feel anything for girls.  That was fortunate because none of the girls felt anything for me either.  I was just some little dweeby kid and had nothing to offer a middle school girl.  I had ‘friends’ accuse me of being gay, but I wasn’t even interested in boys like that.  Middle school kids can understand homosexuality, in their own way, but don’t have a clue about kids who are neither.  On top of all of that, I used to play baseball and soccer when I was younger, but suddenly I was smaller and weaker than all the kids my age.   I was no longer good enough to play.

I just didn’t fit in, and my interest in diapers came back.   I was suddenly dreaming about diapers and wishing I could wear them again.  One of my neighbors ran an informal daycare, and I still went there after school.  It was the same place I went to when I was a little kid.  We just kept going there because it was convenient and my mom didn’t trust me to be by myself, even though I was fourteen.  I didn’t mind though, because she had a cool house, made me snacks, and helped me with my homework.   There were three little kids who still wore diapers, and I wished I could join them.  I also used to meander to the diaper aisle at the grocery store.  I’m not sure if my mom knew what I was thinking, but she never said anything about it.

At the time, when I was in eighth grade, Mrs. Wilson typically had ten other kids at her house after school.  I was fourteen, and the oldest by a large amount.  My sister and her best friend Jessica were eleven, and Jessica’s little brother Adam was nine and in third grade.  They were like us and just kept going to her house, but most of the kids stopped going after first or second grade.  Adam was five years younger than me, and I had known him since he was a baby, but he probably was the closest thing I had to a best friend.   He was young enough that he still liked to play with toys, and old enough to play games that were too complicated for little kids.   I know it isn’t normal to play with action figures or pretend to be explorers/astronauts, or professional athletes at fourteen years old, but I could do that with him and not feel guilty.  I could tell people that I was entertaining a younger child, but in reality, we were just two kids playing.

The other kids were much younger.  There were two first-grade girls who were BFFs, and Jason had just finished Kindergarten and was just past his sixth birthday.  He was the younger brother of Ivy, who was one of the first-grade girls.   That was our typical big-kid group, and then there were four little kids.  One was four, there was a three-year-old, and then two babies.  The four-year-old still wasn’t potty trained and wore diapers almost all the time, and the three-year-old had just graduated out of diapers.  

There was also Mrs. Wilson’s daughter, but she was older and helped her mom.  Rachel was seventeen and going into her senior year in high school.  Ironically, Rachel and I are closer in age than I am to Lisa.  However, Rachel has always been more of an older cousin.   She was on the 4-6 playground when I was in 1^st grade; and moved on to middle school when I started 4th grade.  She was in high school when I started middle school.  She was also our regular babysitter and had been since she was thirteen.

Mrs. Wilson took a relaxed approach to potty training, so most of the kids who went to her house were late bloomers.  She didn’t believe kids were truly potty-trained until they could independently use the toilet on their own, without any prompts.  Until that happened, she believed kids should stay in diapers, and they would potty train themselves when it was time.  Even after that, no matter how old we were, Mrs. Wilson’s rule was: we had to wear Pull-ups after an accident, and if that was wet, we were put in a diaper for the rest of the day.  It happened to all of us.  My sister had to wear Pull-ups a few times when she was nine, and Adam got put in a diaper when he was eight.

Jason, the six-year-old kindergartner, was super excited after the last day of school because he was moving on to first grade.  As little kids sometimes do when they get excited, Jason wet his pants.   That wasn’t unusual for him.  He didn’t do it a lot, but it wasn’t the first time he had to wear Pull-ups at Mrs. Wilson’s house.  When he was caught, he cried, “I’m sorry, it was an accident.”

Mrs. Wilson remarked, “I know it’s an accident, that’s why you have to wear Pull-ups.  If you are a big boy and don’t have any more accidents, you can wear big boy pants again.”

Jason was still crying when he went outside to play, and his sister, Ivy, comforted him.  Ivy said, “Don’t worry, I’ll help remind you to use the potty.”

“But Mommy will be mad.”

Ivy responded, “Mommy won’t be mad unless you have more accidents.”

Unfortunately, Jason had another accident.  An accident in a Pull-up meant that he got put in diapers for the rest of the day.  We only had another hour before pick-up, but he cried and begged Mrs. Wilson to change her mind.   However, Mrs. Wilson never changed her mind.

I spent the rest of the day wondering what happened to Jason when he got home.  His mom was very disappointed when she picked him up, and I had visions of him staying in diapers for a few more days.   It also made me wonder what would happen if I wet my pants.  Mrs. Wilson wanted me to be more of a helper and less like a little kid.  However, I wasn’t responsible enough to be much help.  What would she do if I suddenly started wetting my pants?

No matter how hard I tried, my mind kept shifting back to diapers.  Back then, before I would fall asleep, I would imagine scenarios where my mom would put me back in diapers.   I was pre-loading a diaper dream, and hopefully, I would actually wet the bed one of those nights.  However, I never did.  I usually had morning wood and a full bladder, but I never wet the bed.  That night I imagined myself wetting my pants and I suddenly felt myself peeing.  I couldn’t stop peeing, no matter how hard I tried.  I woke up and thought, ‘Oh my God, I just wet the bed!’   I was a mix of ecstatic and horrified, and I reached out to check if it really happened.  Sure enough, my underwear was wet, but it didn’t feel like pee.  It felt more like a sticky lotion.  At the time, I was more than a little naïve.  I might have been a young teen, but I still had a childlike mindset.   I was a little confused, but then realized it was probably a wet dream.  It was my first wet dream!

I wasn’t sure how to handle it.   I changed my underwear, put a towel over the spot on the bed, and went back to sleep.  I was oddly satisfied, disappointed, and guilty all at the same time.   I wondered what would happen if I started to wet the bed again.  

This wasn’t something I wanted to tell my mom about, so I hid the underwear and put my covers over the sheets to hide the evidence.  Mind you, my mom wanted me to do my own laundry and wanted me to put things in the washing machine.  I should have put everything in the washing machine, but I wasn’t very good at remembering to do those things.  Also, unless my mom prompted me, I never made my bed in the morning.  I think my mom realized what happened, but she never said anything about it.  I know that she saw the sticky sheets because I had new sheets that evening, and my laundry was folded.

The next night I imagined my mom making me wear diapers all summer.  I even started to imagine sleeping in a crib and being treated like a baby, just like when I was five.   I wasn’t sure if my mom would do that, nor did I know what Mrs. Wilson would do.  I started to lay out the scenarios.   What would happen if I just stopped using the toilet, and started to pee and poop my pants?

I needed to pee, so I decided to wet the bed.  Unfortunately, it wasn’t as easy as I imagined. I had to imagine myself standing next to a toilet before I could start.  Even then, there wasn’t very much.  However, it was enough to count as a wet bed.  It was the first time I had wet the bed since I was seven years old.