Summer with Aunt Amanda_ Finished July 31, 2023

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10 hours ago, Pierry Louys said:

Love the story!!! One question tommy is using toddlers pull ups and baby diapers (size 7) ?? Or he is using adult diapers 

Thank You;

That's a good question.  It is something that I visualized while writing but didn't specifically address because I didn't want to create reality gaps.  I've alluded that Tommy is small for his age, but I don't want him to be outrageously small that a realism gap develops.  In my mind, Tommy is a potential jockey with late-onset puberty.  In my mind, Tommy is short (~5'0") and small in stature (> 100 lbs).   He also has a child-like bone density that would make him fit in a room full of 5th or 6th graders.

Aunt Amanda uses cloth diapers with diaper covers at night, so that's all that Tommy has worn so far.  There is enough of a range in those that Tommy and Scott can share from the same pile.   I implied that Pull-ups were toddler-style, which is consistent with Aunt Amanda's personality.   In her mind, this is an infantile behavior, so the more infantile diapers are appropriate.   I've not specifically addressed it, but Scott is using disposable baby diapers during the day.  If (no spoiler) Tommy does end up going back to diapers during the day, he would use diapers the same diapers.  For the sake of realism, let's assume these are sizes 6,7, or 8 and easily available for Aunt Amanda to get from the store or Amazon.

[Pierry Louys]

Thanks

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Am I a Little Kid Now?

My aunt warned, “Tommy, you can’t be a big boy if you don’t use the potty.  If you have any more accidents between now and Monday, we have to pause your potty training.  You’ll go back to diapers.”

I asked, “How long?”

She looked perplexed, and asked,” How long what?”

“How long will I have to stay in diapers?”

Aunt Amanda tilted her head with a strange look.  She asked, “Honey, is that what you want?”

I don’t know what would have happened if I told her the truth.  I think she was ready to put me in a diaper right there, but I didn’t want her to think I was a freak.   I furiously shook my head, which was more of an act, and said, “No, no, no!  I just want to know what happens if I have another accident.”

Aunt Amanda was dubious but indulged me.  She talked to me like I was a child.  “Right now, I don’t know if you are ready to use the potty by yourself.  That’s why you are wearing Pull-ups.   Big kids use the potty by themselves.  If you keep having accidents, I know you’re not ready.  That means you need diapers, and you can’t be a big kid if you need diapers.  Does that make sense?”

It didn’t make any sense, but I nodded anyway.  I asked, “But for how long?”

“You’ll need to be potty-trained before you can wear big boy pants.  That can’t happen until you are ready.”

“How will you know if I’m ready?”

Aunt Amanda calmly answered, “It depends.  I knew that Debbie was ready when she stayed dry for a long time and used the potty when I asked her.  Now she doesn’t need help using the potty and does it all by herself.  Older kids sometimes take longer.  You are older than Debbie, so a day won’t feel as long to you.  You might need a longer break before you are ready.  It’s also very important for you to cooperate with me.  I can’t teach you to use the potty if you don’t listen to me.”

I remembered what my mom told me.  “My mom said that it might take the whole summer.  She said if I can’t help it, I need to learn how to change my own diapers, and she won’t do that until I’m ready.”

Aunt Amanda nodded, “That’s true. Some adults, and even big kids, have problems getting to the potty, and they have to manage it by themselves.  It is called, ‘incontinence’, but that doesn’t mean they are like little kids.”

“It doesn’t?”  I sounded very childlike, and innocent.

“No honey; They can take care of themselves.  It’s hard, and they need to be very responsible.  I think that’s what your mommy meant when she told you that you weren’t ready for that.”   She continued, “And to be honest, I think your mommy is right.  You aren’t responsible enough.  I know that you sometimes use the potty by yourself, so I know you can do it.  However, big kids don’t just do that some of the time, they handle the potty by themselves all of the time.  That’s what you still need to show me.”

I didn’t get the answer I wanted, but I did get some perspective on my aunt’s thought process.  It felt like she was seriously considering putting me in a diaper right there, and there was a part of me that wished she had.   However, it was a big step.  I still had to wear a diaper for six more nights, which would be almost three weeks in diapers.  If she makes me wear one during the day, I might be in diapers all summer.

I made it through the rest of the day without an accident, but the ever-perceptive Debbie noticed the frowny face on my chart.  “Why does Tommy have a frowny face?”

Aunt Amanda sighed, “Tommy went pee-pee in his pants today.”

“Is he going to be a baby again?”

My aunt gave Debbie a disapproving look.  That was close to teasing, and teasing is not allowed.  “Debbie! We don’t do that in this house.”

Debbie deflected her eyes and mouthed, “Sorry.”  I guess she was talking to me, but it didn’t seem directed at anybody in particular.

My aunt replied, “No, Tommy still wants to be a big boy.”

It was getting easier for me to pee in the diaper at night.  I barely had to think about it before I started to pee.  I was oddly proud of myself, but I couldn’t explain why.  During the day, I was constantly flooded with doubt and anxiety.  I felt out of place in the world.  At night, I felt like a three-year-old with no responsibilities.  I just needed one more accident, and I could get that feeling during the day as well.  It dawned on me that I had to act now.  In a few days, my aunt might give Scott another chance with Pull-ups.  What if I’m wearing a diaper, and Scott gets to wear Pull-ups?  I promised myself to pee in my Pull-up in the morning.

Aunt Amanda barely acknowledged the soggy diaper that greeted her in the morning.  She just said, “Let’s get you two some breakfast, and then I will get you ready for the day.”  She cleaned me up carefully, handed me the Pull-Up, and said, “Try to use the potty today.  I don’t want you to have any more accidents.”

I replied, “Ok, I’ll try,” knowing full well that wasn’t going to happen.

My aunt hugged me, “That’s wonderful, sweetheart.”  I couldn’t help but notice the twinge of doubt in her voice.

At this point, I wasn’t turning back.  I was going to wet my Pull-up, and it was just a question of when.  There was a part of me that wanted to get it over with, but it was like jumping off the diving board; I couldn’t take it back after it happened.   I tried to pee in the morning, but I couldn’t.   Jessica came over shortly after 10 o’clock, and the four of us went outside to play.  I didn’t want to do it in front of Jessica, so I tried to put it out of my mind.  Up until then, I thought I kept this a secret.  As far as I knew, she didn’t know I was wearing a Pull-up.  I suddenly felt the urge and began to pee, without thinking.   I realized what I was doing and tried to stop, but I couldn’t stop peeing.  I froze and hoped nobody saw what happened.

Jessica noticed and asked, “Tommy, what did you do?”

I answered, “Nothing.  I was just thinking.”

Jessica smirked, “I don’t think that’s it.  I know that look.  I think somebody peed his pants.  Come over here, I need to check your Pull-Up.”

“Um, I’m not wearing a Pull-Up.”  My stammer and red face might have given it away.

“Oh, please!  Do you honestly think I haven’t noticed the Pull-ups?  I can see the tabs above your waistband.  Now come over here and let me check if you’ve had an accident.”

“No.”

Jessica was talking to me just like I was a petulant child and ordered, “No?  Come here, I need to check your Pull-up.”  She might have only been thirteen, but she knew exactly how to handle an ornery child.

I screamed, “No!” And started to run.

I didn’t get very far; Jessica caught me from behind and said, “Got you, you little stinker.”  She put her hand on my shorts and said, “Tommy, you’re wet.  Let’s tell your aunt.”

I pulled away and cried, “No, I don’t want to.”

She tugged back and said, “Tommy, you’re only making this bad for yourself.  Be a good boy, or I’ll put you in time-out.”

I shouted back, “You’re not my babysitter!  You can’t put me in time-out.”

Jessica snidely asked, “Should we ask your aunt about that?”

Aunt Amanda walked outside; “What’s all of the commotion?  What’s going on?” 

Debbie was eager to tell her mom what happened, but Jessica spoke first.  “Mrs. Whitmore, I’m afraid Tommy had a little accident and needs another Pull-up.  I can help him if you are busy.”

It sounds stupid, but until then, it never dawned on me that Jessica could end up changing my diaper.  She took care of Scott quite a bit, so it would make sense that she would do the same with me.

Much to my relief, Aunt Amanda waved her off.  “That’s very nice of you, but I can take it from here.   Please keep an eye on Scotty and Debbie, while I’ll take care of Tommy.”

[dmavn]

“Tommy is short (~5'0") and small in stature (> 100 lbs)”

Guess I was an oddball. Leaving 8th grade I was 4’3 72lbs.. was always the shortest kid in school until 11-12 grade where I grew almost a foot. always hated meting short until I started liking it and then i started growing again.. 

Really enjoying this story. Keep it up!

 

[spark]

6 minutes ago, dmavn said:

“Tommy is short (~5'0") and small in stature (> 100 lbs)”

Guess I was an oddball. Leaving 8th grade I was 4’3 72lbs.. was always the shortest kid in school until 11-12 grade where I grew almost a foot. always hated meting short until I started liking it and then i started growing again.. 

Really enjoying this story. Keep it up!

 

Thank you.

Based on the research I've done, the numbers I've chosen are about 2 to 3 years behind his biological age. Tommy is 14, but he is supposed to be a fall baby and this is in June.   The numbers say that he is average size for an 11 to 13-year-old, while your size would be average for an 8 to 10-year-old.   That's a common trope, and for this story- I didn't want to go that far out of the norm with the size.

I especially didn't want to write it in a way that Tommy could be mistaken for a toddler, or even a preschooler when he is in public.  This will play a role in Tommy's perceptions as the story progresses because Aunt Amanda doesn't give a damn about the social norms in this case.  

I wrote most of the rough draft of this story back in June and the first part of July.   I'm re-editing and clarifying sections as I release them.  I didn't remember addressing the diaper size when I read the question, but it turns out I did.  It's going to happen in the next installment.

[spark]

Part 10

The best way to describe my aunt’s reaction was disappointment.   I don’t know if she thought I did it on purpose, but I don’t think it surprised her.  It didn’t matter; she had no choice but to go through with her promise.

She said, “Tommy, I don’t know what’s going on, but you aren’t using the potty like you should.  We have to take a break from potty training.  That means you have to wear diapers until you are ready to try again.”

I willingly climbed on the changing table and let her take care of the soggy Pull-up.  She calmly asked, “Sweetie, do you want your pacifier?”  I nodded, and she put it in my mouth. “There you go.  Isn’t that nice?”  

It’s hard to explain the calming effect sucking on a pacifier has on me.  I felt like I melted into the table.  I thought my aunt would mock me for acting like a baby, but she didn’t.  In her mind, I literally was a baby.

She placed the diaper underneath my bottom, and said, “Now sweetie, I don’t want you to worry about making it to the potty.  If you need to do a poo-poo or a pee-pee, just go ahead and an adult will take care of your diaper.  I don’t want you to try to be a big kid and use the potty.  We won’t worry about the potty until you are ready.”

I guess this was her way of telling me the bathroom was off-limits.  Scott wasn’t allowed to use the potty, so I knew I wouldn’t be either.   I felt guilty and mumbled, “I’m sorry.”

In her calm voice, she said, “You have nothing to be sorry about.  You’re not ready to be a big kid, so you need a break.”

My aunt used cloth diapers at night, which seemed to fit me easily.  During the day, she used the largest-sized Pampers available, but they were meant for a kid half my size.  I wasn’t sure if they would fit.  After she finished, I commented, “I didn’t think they would fit me.”

Aunt Amanda smiled, “They fit, but just barely.  I think I’ll have to get some bigger diapers, just in case.”

She then dressed me like I was a two-year-old.  She didn’t let me do anything for myself.  My shirt was pastel yellow with a big red balloon on the front.  The shorts were bright red and had an elastic waistband.    It was the kind of thing I wore when I was three.

After she finished, she said, “Big kids don’t wear diapers, so you can’t have big kid privileges until you are potty trained.  Is that understood?”  I nodded.  She continued.  “Little kids are not allowed to open doors, and not allowed to run off.  They have to be with an adult at all times.  You also have to ask an adult first, and if the adult says no, that means no.  If you pout, or whine, you will go to time out.”

I asked, “What about Jessica, is she an adult?”

Aunt Amanda replied, “She is to you.  She is in charge, and you have to do what she says.”

“Is Debbie an adult?”

“No, she is a big sister.  You can ask her for help, but she is not in charge.”

Aunt Amanda held my hand as we walked outside.  She got Jessica’s attention and said, “Jessica, honey, can you keep an eye on Tommy?”  Jessica gave her a thumbs up, and then my aunt put her hands on my shoulders and said, in a loud voice, “Be a good boy for Jessica.”

I looked ridiculous in my toddler-style outfit and well-padded rear.  I think it was obvious that I was wearing a diaper.  I asked Jessica in a trembling voice, “Are you going to tease me?”

Jessica condescendingly asked, “Why would I do that?”

“Well, you know, what I’m wearing.”  My voice was timid and shy. 

“What are you wearing?”  She knew everything, and just wanted me to say it out loud.

“You know.”  I paused a bit, and then continued, “Don’t make me say it.”

“No, I don’t, Tommy.  What are you wearing?”

Exasperated, I admitted, “I’m wearing a diaper.  My Aunt is making me wear diapers.”

She mockingly looked surprised, “You are, and why are you wearing diapers, Tommy?  What did you do?”

I was annoyed and mumbled as quickly as possible, “I wet my pants.”

“You did, didn’t you.  I guess that means you aren’t potty trained.”  I wanted to run off but knew that wasn’t possible. 

I nodded, and Jessica continued, “I guess that makes you a little kid, doesn’t it?”  I didn’t nod back, but she didn’t care.  “I don’t tease little kids; that’s just mean.  Don’t worry, I’m not going to tease you.  Just remember that I’m in charge, and you can’t argue with me.  If you do what I tell you, I’ll be nice.”  I guess that’s the best I could hope for.  

Debbie kept asking, “What happened?  Why is Tommy wearing diapers?”

I wanted to scream at Debbie, but I knew I would get in trouble, so I gave Jessica a pleading look.  Fortunately, Jessica quickly admonished Debbie.  “Debbie!  Don’t be so nosy.  That’s none of your business.”

Unfortunately, I hadn’t pooped yet, and breakfast was making it’s way to my bowels.  I had let my mind go free while Scott and I were playing in the sandbox and forgot about the new rules.  I got up to head for the bathroom.  Jessica quickly asked, “Tommy, where do you think you’re going?  You can’t run off by yourself.”

I replied in a firm voice, “I need to go to the bathroom.”

Jessica gave me a serious look, “Tommy, you don’t have to worry about that.  That’s why you’re wearing a diaper.”

I didn’t want to poop in my diaper and didn’t think Jessica would want to deal with that either.  I snapped, “It’s not that.  I need to take a shit.”

 I didn’t think swearing was a big deal, especially in front of kids my age.  I didn’t usually swear around little kids, but I didn’t think I said anything wrong.  Jessica gave me a dirty look and said, “Tommy Michael, you know better than that.  Little boys don’t speak that way.”  She pointed to the picnic table and in a firm voice said, “Go to the table.  Now!”

I have no idea how she knew my middle name, but hearing it is never good.   I was more shocked than anything else, and asked, “What?  Why?”

“You heard me.  Go!”  She marched me to the table, put a pacifier in my mouth, and said, “Sit!  You are in time-out.”

I tried to plead my case.  I spit the pacifier out, and tried to say, “But I need to go to the bathroom.”  However, I didn’t get past the first word before she put the pacifier back in my mouth.

“Don’t talk until I take that out!  Is that understood?”   I was too afraid to respond.  She continued, “I know what’s going on, and as long as you are good, and don’t argue with me, I’ll be nice.  But, if you don’t obey me, and make this difficult, I’ll make sure everybody knows what a big baby you really are.  Do you want that?” 

I vigorously shook my head and tried to talk, but Jessica wouldn’t let me speak.

“No talking!  Sit here and think about your words.  You are in time-out because you used a naughty word.”

Debbie didn’t hear me cuss, and being the curious child she was, asked me, “Tommy, why are you in time-out?”

Jessica quickly intercepted, “Debbie, Tommy is in time-out.  He can’t talk to you right now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok.  Tommy can play after he finishes his time-out.”

I hadn’t been put in time-out since I was six years old, and now I was put there by a girl younger than me.  It’s a lot to unpack.  However, I had to admire Jessica’s poise.  It gave me a strange sense of security that is hard to explain.  Her maturity belied her age.   A short time later she came back and asked, “Are you ready to apologize for saying those naughty words?”

She took the pacifier out of my mouth after I nodded back.  I started, “I’m sorry, but.”

The pacifier immediately went back to my mouth.  “No buts.  Are you going to say naughty words anymore?”  I shook my head, and she nodded back.  “Good, you can go back to playing after you apologize for real.”

I replied, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?  What are you sorry about?”

“I’m sorry I cussed.”

Jessica smiled, “You’re forgiven.  I think you’ve learned your lesson.”

I raised my hand and waved, “Can I say something?”

“What is it?”

“I still need to poo.”

Jessica shook her head. “I’m sorry, but you are taking a break from the potty.  That means you have to use your diaper.”  She pointed to a corner of the yard and said, “If you want, you can do it there.”

I answered, “I can’t do that out here.”

Jessica put the pacifier back in my mouth and smirked, “Obviously, that’s not always true, is it?”

A few minutes later, Jessica took us into the kitchen for lunch and told my aunt, “He says he needs to poo, but he hasn’t done it yet.”  It was humiliating to hear people talk about my bowel movements that way.

Aunt Amanda nodded, “Thanks for letting me know.  I’ll give him some time, but I might have to help him if he hasn’t pooped by dinner.”  She turned to me and said, ‘Honey, it’s not good to hold it in.”

I sat in my highchair at lunch, right next to Scott.  We both had bibs around our necks, and our sandwiches were cut into small pieces.  We also had sippy cups, while Debbie got to use a real cup.

We took our naps after lunch.   I still had to poo and was mad, so I went in my diaper.    I figured it would be a fitting punishment to make my aunt change my stinky diaper.  There weren't any clocks in the nursery, so I had no idea how long I would have to wait until my aunt woke us up.   I just had to wait and deal with the smell.  She reacted immediately after opening the nursery door.   “I think somebody has a stinky diaper!”

She checked Scott first.  “Was it you?”  She felt the front and then checked the back.  “No, not you.  You aren’t even wet.  You were a big boy, and that makes Mommy very proud.”

It was my turn.   She felt the front and said, “You went pee-pee.  Let’s see about the poo-poo.”  She opened it up and in an almost proud voice said, “Yep, you did.  And you did a big one.  I’m happy that you don’t need any help going poo-poo.”

I was confused, and asked, “Aren’t you mad?”

Aunt Amanda replied, “Why would I be mad?  It’s not healthy to hold your poop.  I told you to use your diaper, and you did.  That means you are a good boy.”

[wetdiaper55]

I love reading this story.I think Tommy is going to love going back to being a baby. I am always thing about the next chapter .

[Pampertimmy]

It looks like Tommy isn’t going to get his big boy pants any time soon. Lucky boy!

[spark]

1 hour ago, Pampertimmy said:

It looks like Tommy isn’t going to get his big boy pants any time soon. Lucky boy!

 Aunt Amanda's rules are inspired by the rules from All My Mothers Rules, but that mother only gives you the baby treatment for one day.

Any accident at Aunt Amanda's house means Pull-ups, and you only have five days to show her you can use the potty.  If not, it's back to diapers, and that means that you're still a baby.

19 hours ago, wetdiaper55 said:

I love reading this story.I think Tommy is going to love going back to being a baby. I am always thing about the next chapter .

I've only got the last installment left, and most of that is tying up loose ends.  It's a conclusion and a prologue.

[Dirkimaus]

Bitte weiter schreiben

[spark]

2 minutes ago, Dirkimaus said:

Bitte weiter schreiben

It's finished. I'm editing the last instalment.

[spark]

Part 11

My aunt didn’t care what anybody thought.  She acted like this was completely normal.  She put two strollers in the car when we went to Reno the next day.   I realized that the other one was for me and cried, “I can’t ride in that!”

Aunt Amanda asked, “Why not?”

“I’m too old.  People will think it’s weird.”

Aunt Amanda scoffed, “You’re wearing a diaper and that makes you a little kid.  Little kids need to use a stroller.”

“Why?  I don’t need a stroller.  I’m not going to get tired.”

My aunt shook her head, “I’m sorry honey.  It’s not safe to let you wander off.  The stroller keeps you and Scotty close, and you won’t get lost.”

I whined, “I won’t get lost.  I promise, I won’t wander away.  I promise.”

Aunt Amanda replied in a firm voice.  “Tommy, go suck on your pacifier and stop whining.”

I was smart enough to know I wasn’t going to win.  I hadn’t won a single battle with my aunt.  I didn’t want anybody to see me, especially somebody from my school.   She took the strollers out of the car after we parked, and I begged, “Please, Aunt Amanda.  You can’t make me do this.  It’s humiliating.”

My aunt didn’t want a debate.  She demanded, “Tommy, get in the stroller, now!”

I knew she wasn’t going to back down, however, I still tried to resist.  I wasn’t a baby.  I didn’t need diapers, and I definitely didn’t need to ride in a stroller.  I had to take a stand, and not let her humiliate me in public.   I tried to muscle up my strongest voice, but I was starting to cry.   Rather than sounding strong, I pleaded between sobs, “Pleese Au-unt Amanda!  Pleese!  I’m sorry, I’ll never do this again.  I’ll do anything, just don’t make me go out like this.”

Aunt Amanda was unimpressed with my theatrics.   She put the pacifier back in my mouth and said, “Stop with the dramatics.  You’re only making it worse for yourself by making a scene.   You have two choices: sit in the stroller like a good boy, or we can go home, and you’ll go straight to the playpen.”

I didn’t know what she meant by the playpen, but I saw Scott shaking his head and prompting me to stop.  It sounded bad, so I reluctantly sat down in the stroller.   I think these were bigger than most strollers, but they looked like any other stroller.  They were connected side by side, which allowed Scott and I to talk while we were pushed around town.   It felt like everybody was watching us, but most people didn’t seem to pay attention.  

Scott looked too old to be in a stroller, but not that far off.  Somebody might think he was just a big four-year-old, and that’s still young enough to use a stroller.  I clearly was too old and too big to use a stroller.  Nobody would ever think I was young enough to need a stroller.   I saw people stare, which made sense.  We both looked way too old for a stroller, and I was sucking on a pacifier.  It caused a scene, but my aunt didn’t care.  One young kid saw us and asked, “Mommy, why are those big kids in strollers?”

The mom knew we heard and was embarrassed.  She replied, “I don’t know honey, but it’s not polite to stare.”

My aunt and uncle wanted a date night that weekend and needed a babysitter.  Jessica was the obvious choice, but my aunt wanted to let her parents know about me.   Jessica’s mom wasn’t comfortable with the two of us being together without supervision.

When Jessica realized what her mom was thinking, she scoffed at the idea. “Mom!  Please.   Yuck!  He’s wearing a diaper.   Nothing like that will happen.  You don’t have a problem when I change Scott.”

“No, but Scott is younger than you.”

Jessica remarked, “Mom, Tommy is the same as Scott.  He’s just a little boy who still needs diapers.  I don’t think of him that way at all.”

Jessica’s mom asked my aunt, “Is she telling the truth?  Does Tommy wear diapers?

Aunt Amanda answered, “He does.  Tommy had a setback with his potty training, so I put him back in diapers.  Jessica is right, there really is no difference between Tommy and Scott.  They are both little boys, and Jessica handles them like a pro.  She won’t let him get away with much, and that boy was a nightmare for me until I put him back in diapers.”

Jessica pleaded, “Mom, please let me do this.   Mrs. Whitmore is going to pay me $20 an hour.”

Jessica’s mom turned back to my aunt, “$20 an hour?”

My aunt said, “Well, it’s three kids.   Jessica may be young, but she is a great babysitter, and the kids adore her.”

Jessica noted, “Tommy is just a little kid, or at least he acts like one.” 

Jessica’s mom nodded and then asked my aunt, “Are you saying Tommy hasn’t given you any problems since you put him back in diapers?”

Aunt Amanda nodded, “It’s true.  Last week, he was an absolute nightmare. He had an awful attitude and wouldn’t do anything around the house.  He sulked and pouted whenever I asked him to do anything.   I know he’s not a bad kid and he’s had a rough go at it these last few years.   Since Thursday, he’s been a different kid.   Sure, there’s been a few tantrums, but they’re short-lived and easily rectified.  He calms right down when I give him a pacifier.  He is more compliant and hasn’t whined nearly as much.   I can’t trust him to do any chores, but that was never worth the hassle.   I know it’s odd, but he seems happier.”

Jessica’s mom looked intrigued, “You don’t say.  I might have to try that with Jason.  That boy has been a real pill since school let out.”  She looked at Jessica and said, “Don’t say anything to your brother.”

Jessica was strict, but nice.  I guess that makes her a good babysitter.  We had to follow all of the rules.  She made me eat all of my vegetables, but then gave us some cake for dessert.  My aunt doesn’t usually give us any dessert, so that was a treat.  The four of us played a board game after dinner, but Jessica made sure we were in bed by eight o’clock.  Scott and I both had baths before she got there.  However, she had to change my diaper before bedtime.  She didn’t make a big deal about it and acted like it was normal.  Fortunately, I didn’t give Jessica any problems.  I knew she wouldn’t hesitate to put me in time-out, and my aunt warned me before she left.  “If you give Jessica any issues, I’m putting you in the playpen tomorrow.”

I asked Scott, “What does she mean by the playpen?”

Scott answered, “You don’t want that.  If I’m naughty, Mommy makes me sit in a playpen all day, and I’m not allowed to have any toys.  It’s like time-out, except it’s the whole day.”

That warning kept me in check.  After a few days, I realized my life is easier if I don’t complain and just go along with my aunt.  Within a week, I understood the routine and knew what was expected of me, which was basically nothing.  I had no responsibilities and no real decisions to make.  I was praised for following her rules and doing what she wanted.  I was also praised when I used my diaper and always got a hug after my diaper was changed.  I didn’t get very much positive attention in those days, so I responded well to praise. On the other hand, attempts at independence were quickly quashed, usually with a mild reprimand.

Scott got to use the potty after the weekend; I guess that meant he was ready to be potty-trained.  I knew my turn was coming, which I thought would happen in just a few days.   By Wednesday, Scott was in Pull-ups, which made me the only baby in the house.  I still had diapers, had the same rules, and had to wait patiently for my turn.

Scott got to wear underwear the following Monday and was dry in the morning.  He got to eat breakfast from the table, and I still had to sit in my highchair.  I knew Scott would be completely out of diapers soon, and I still wasn’t allowed to use the potty. I asked, “When can I use the potty again?  It’s been more than a week.”  I didn’t want to get in trouble, but I didn’t want this to last forever.

My aunt nonchalantly answered, “Don’t worry.  We will try again when you are ready.”

I protested, “But Scott only had to wait a week.  Why do I have to wait so long?”   I tried not to whine, but I’m sure I was.

To her credit, Aunt Amanda didn’t get mad.  I had an honest concern, and my protest made sense.   She calmly replied, “That’s because Scott is younger than you.  A week to you isn’t very long, but at Scotty’s age, it feels much longer.  When you are older, you need longer breaks.  That means when we start again, we get a fresh start.   If you keep being good, I think you will be ready soon.”

Four days later, which was after fourteen days in diapers, I got to poop in the potty.  I was praised and even allowed to wipe after.  However, my aunt had to finish.  I wasn’t clean enough, so she had to finish before putting me in a new diaper.  She warned, “You have to do a better job wiping.  If you can’t wipe properly, you will have to stay in diapers.”  After she changed my diaper, she said, “It’s time to see if you are ready for Pull-ups.  Tell me when you need to use the potty, and I’ll take you.”

Unfortunately, I was used to peeing in my diaper.  After a couple of wet diapers, my aunt said, “I guess you’re not ready.   Let’s wait.  We will try again in a few weeks.”

Epilogue

That happened three years ago.  I’m now going into my senior year in high school and thinking about college.  I don’t know what college I want to go to, but I have the grades to go to UC Berkeley or any other top school.  I want to study computer science, and my grades are good enough.

My grades weren’t very good in middle school.  I got C’s and D’s, and I was hanging out with a bad crowd.   I don’t think I was a bad kid, but I was immature and trying to impress kids I thought were cool.

I guess being put in diapers changed my attitude.  I stopped trying to pretend that I was something I wasn’t.   I ended up spending the entire summer in diapers.  I got to wear Pull-ups a few times, but always went back to diapers.  By the end of July, Scott was out of diapers at night, which left me alone in the nursery.

My mom’s tour was extended, and I had to stay with my aunt through Christmas.   I had more accidents, so I was diapered most of that time.  It was a virtual high school, and my aunt kept a tight rein on me.  I ended up with straight A’s that semester.  I moved back with my mom after Christmas.  I didn’t start at my high school until January.  By then my old friends had different friends and they ignored me.

This is where things get strange.  My mom gave me the same freedoms and responsibilities that other kids had, and I didn’t handle it well.   I started to argue with my mom, and my grades suffered.   I did better when my mom put me back in diapers.   She eventually discovered diapers were the key.   As long as I have to wear a diaper, she can give me the same freedoms and responsibilities that other kids have.

I’m now in diapers all the time, and I’m not allowed to change my diaper.  I’m not even allowed to ask; I have to wait until somebody checks my diaper.  My mom is responsible for my diapers, and if she can’t be there, somebody else is.  It’s been this way since 10^th grade.  I’m not treated like a baby all of the time, but my mom will give me extra attention when she thinks I need it.   We aren’t sure how to handle college yet, but that’s not my problem.  I have no say in the matter.

My cousins are doing fine.  Scott still has accidents and needs diapers sometimes, but not all the time.  Debbie hasn’t needed diapers for a long time.    I stay with my aunt during the summer, and I still have to follow the same rules when I’m there.  Jessica is still our babysitter, but she also takes care of her older brother Jason, who is now in diapers and treated like a toddler.

[CDfm]

Great story.  I really think you did a wonderful job writing this. 
I seem to remember you writing some stories several years ago and I was very impressed with this one.  Appears as though you have devoted some time to proofreading as there were very few mistakes and the story flowed very nicely.  

[spark]

3 minutes ago, CDfm said:

Great story.  I really think you did a wonderful job writing this. 
I seem to remember you writing some stories several years ago and I was very impressed with this one.  Appears as though you have devoted some time to proofreading as there were very few mistakes and the story flowed very nicely.  

thank you for that.   Your words mean a lot because I've worked really hard on that.   It's a known weakness of mine, and it takes a lot of work to overcome.

My process is cumbersome because I can't just read it over again.    I have to hear it read aloud and then edit when it sounds clunky.  It takes time, especially the dialogue.  

For instance, I struggled to get the conversation between Aunt Amanda, Jessica, and her mom right.  My purpose was to address the elephant of Jessica changing Tommy's diaper.  I wanted to normalize that as much as possible (how much can you normalize that?).   Jessica's mom was supposed to start the dialogue, but I couldn't get her words right.   In the end, I had Jessica react to her mom's words, which I think was better.I wrote most of this story while I was on my summer trip tra, which was a train from Miami to Fairbanks.  It's literally how I passed the time while I had no access to the internet.   

Fundamentally, it's the same story.  The plot is exactly the same.  The characters are the same.   The difference is that the writing would have been distracting.  It  was too passive

[dyperaby]

Great story! In as much as you ended with a Prologue, does that mean there will be more about Tommy, et al?

[spark]

45 minutes ago, dyperaby said:

Great story! In as much as you ended with a Prologue, does that mean there will be more about Tommy, et al?

Thank you

I'm not sure how much more I can write about Tommy.  I can take him to college, but he has accepted his fate.   He is diapered 24/7 and has no control over his diapers.  There isn't any conflict.   

There is a story to be told about Jessica's brother.   I have a vision of that story, but no words yet.

[Disk]

Did you mean for the last section to be a prologue rather than an epilogue then?

[spark]

25 minutes ago, Disk said:

Did you mean for the last section to be a prologue rather than an epilogue then?

Actually- yes.  sorry about that.  I forgot which was which there.  That was the final words

[wetdiaper55]

That was a great story.

[spark]

9 hours ago, wetdiaper55 said:

That was a great story.

Thank You

I said that Tommy's story is done, but I've run through ideas of a perma-child scenario.   The idea is that Tommy continues to be a child in a lot of ways.  He is not potty trained, and somebody has to take care of his diapers.   He has the same level of supervision that a little kid would have, however, he can still function as an adult.  He has a job, or in Tommy's case, does well in college.  The idea would be that he can function as an adult as long as he has a mommy to guide and support him through the day.  I just need to grasp my head around a potential conflict.