I'm not a big kid, Yet!_ completed (January 6, 2024)

[spark]

What happens when a twelve-year-old boy suddenly starts wetting his pants again?

Mark Davidson is twelve years old and just finished the sixth grade.  He is leaving elementary school and will soon be a teenager. Sure, he had some toileting problems when he was younger, but he has long since outgrown that, or so it seems.

The Background

One of my earliest memories is a tantrum I threw when I was four and a half.  I wanted to play in a playroom, but I couldn’t unless I was potty trained.   I still wore diapers and wasn’t potty trained.   I saw kids younger than me playing and started to cry.  My mom got frustrated with my tantrum and said, “Big kids don’t wear diapers!”

After we got home, Mom said “I’m disappointed with you.  You acted like a baby and threw a tantrum.  You can’t be a big kid if you are not potty trained.”  She took away most of my ‘big kid’ privileges and treated me like my little sister, who had just turned two.  At the time, there wasn’t a whole lot of difference. Mom still put me in a stroller, and there were rails on my bed to keep me from falling out.  All she had to do was pull up the rails to convert my ‘big kid’ bed into a crib and bring out a second highchair.  I also had to use a sippy cup, but I used to spill a lot.

I don’t think it worked very well because it took another year to get out of diapers.  Yes, I didn’t get out of diapers until I was five and a half!  My little sister was now three and had just become potty trained.  I didn’t want to be the only one in diapers, so I started to use the potty as well.

Even so, I still had accidents, and sometimes needed diapers.  My mom had a different approach than most parents.  She wanted us to take care of the potty by ourselves, although she still helped my sister with some of the details.  She was only three, so that made sense.  Mom wanted me to do everything by myself.   She would take me to the bathroom when we were in public, but that’s about it.

I had to wear Pull-ups if I had an accident. I didn’t get to wear underwear until I stayed dry for three days.  If I had two accidents in my Pull-ups, it was back to diapers.  I stayed in diapers until I proved that I was ready to use the potty, which usually took about a week.

My mom treated me like a big kid when I wore Pull-ups.  I even got to do things that some of the older kids didn’t.   However, I lost all of those privileges when I wore diapers.  Diapers were for babies, so I was treated just like a baby.  I slept in a crib, sat in a highchair, and rode in a stroller when we left the house.  I think my mom preferred the stroller because I didn’t wander away.  It wasn’t just the highchairs and stroller, little kids aren’t allowed to open doors, and I wasn’t either. 

I had to wear diapers at night until I stayed dry for five nights in a row, which didn’t happen until I was eight years old.  I got to wear underwear after keeping my Pull-ups dry for five nights, but it was back to diapers if I had three accidents in my Pull-ups.   Since diapers were for babies, my bed was left in the crib position when I slept in a diaper.   My mom changed my diaper just after waking me up when it was dry, but when I woke up in a wet diaper, she waited until I ate breakfast.  Diapers are for babies, so I had to sit in a highchair for breakfast.

My sister was out of diapers by my sixth birthday, which was when she was three-and-a-half.  I don’t think she had very many accidents after that.  However, when she was older, she would occasionally wet her pants.  It didn’t happen very often, but mom made her wear Pull-ups when she did.  She was nine years old the last time it happened.  We had to wear a diaper at night if we wore a Pull-up during the day, so Emily ended up sleeping in a diaper for about three weeks that year.

It was harder for me.  I wore diapers pretty much all the time while I was in kindergarten.  I occasionally got to wear Pull-ups, but I always had accidents and went right back to diapers.  Things got a little better for me in first grade, when I was seven.   I still had accidents, but I usually could go back to underwear before I had to wear a diaper.  I only had to wear diapers a couple of times that year.

However, we lived in Asia, and we went back to the United States in the summer.   I had a series of accidents that summer and was put back in diapers.  My mom didn’t want to deal with potty training while we were traveling, so I stayed in diapers for six weeks.  I wasn’t potty trained again until we got home.  That didn’t happen until my birthday, so I was still in diapers on my eighth birthday!

I guess that helped because I stopped having accidents after that, or at least mostly stopped.  I only had a few accidents in third grade.  I even started to stay dry at night, and my crib was finally converted back to a bed.  I only spent two weeks in diapers that year, and that was on purpose.  I wet my pants on purpose because I wanted to wear diapers again.  It happened during school breaks, so I wouldn’t have to wear diapers to school. I did it again in fourth grade, during spring break.  My mom never got mad about it.  She just said, “I guess you’re not ready to be a big kid,” and put me back in diapers.

[DiaperloverontheDL]

Dude this is a child. If ur gonna post a story please post an adult 

[spark]

2 hours ago, DiaperloverontheDL said:

Dude this is a child. If ur gonna post a story please post an adult 

It meets the requirements, and there is nothing sexual about this story.

If you're going to respond with criticism, please use proper grammar.

[A_Pale_Spirit]

On 12/3/2023 at 9:53 PM, DiaperloverontheDL said:

Dude this is a child. If ur gonna post a story please post an adult 

You're joking right?

There's plenty of stories on this site that have characters that are kids/teens, there's nothing wrong with that at all.
Your comment is ridiculous, and "ur" isn't a word. Maybe instead of complaining about child characters, you should stop writing like one.

 

Many people on this site identify with characters who are preteens/teens, many of us don't identify with adult characters because those characters aren't what we are looking BACK towards the period in our lives when we wanted to wear diapers. As a young adult, stories with adult characters who are in some cases OLDER than me, are impossible for me to identify with.

The only thing I find disgusting is including ANY kind of sexual content at all in any story but that INCLUDES in stories with adult characters (and there's plenty examples of those on this site), but I don't go around complaining in comments in those stories.

 

 

On 12/3/2023 at 11:59 PM, spark said:

It meets the requirements, and there is nothing sexual about this story.

If you're going to respond with criticism, please use proper grammar.

Please ignore that absolutely insane comment from that other person and continue.

[spark]

10 hours ago, A_Pale_Spirit said:

Many people on this site identify with characters who are preteens/teens, many of us don't identify with adult characters because those characters aren't what we are looking BACK towards the period in our lives when we wanted to wear diapers. As a young adult, stories with adult characters who are in some cases OLDER than me, are impossible for me to identify with.

First of all, intend to continue.  It's not a very long story (only about 6k words).   I was going to edit the latest section, but I got a muse for another story.  That one is about a 40-year-old, but does have some references to childhood. 

I realized that I'm asexual a year ago, so my stories rarely have much sex of any kind.  I don't write about things I don't know, so other than adult breastfeeding and a few references to self-pleasure, you won't see too much of that from me.

The stories I enjoy most of stories about teenagers with delayed puberty and the desire to either conquer the last remnants of infancy or hold on to childhood one last time (which this one is).    No matter how old you are now, everybody was twelve once.   You have no clue what it is like to be 50 (it's not bad- you should try it).   There are very few ABDL stories out there that have older characters, and those that do are either sissies (I don't like that), or so beaten that they aren't interesting to read about.  There is however no shortage of young women- some once powerful, submitting to middle-aged men for some reason and becoming diapered princesses who get spanked daily

As for the criticism, I'm not at all concerned about that.    To be honest, if you have constructive criticism, go ahead.  Let me know if you think.  However- if you do, use proper grammar.  Post a thought that includes real words.

[spark]

Part 2:  Going Back in Diapers.

By the end of sixth grade, diapers were a distant memory.  Yeah, I peed my pants when I was ten years old, but that was on purpose.  I hadn’t had a real accident since I was eight.  It had been more than a year since I wet the bed, and I hadn’t worn diapers for two years.  I didn’t even need the plastic sheet anymore. I was twelve years old and just about to enter the teenage stage of my life.  I wasn’t a kid anymore.  I was going to middle school, which meant changing teachers and no more recess.

Right at the end of May, a week before school let out, I woke up in the middle of the night needing to pee.   It was still dark, and I didn’t want to get out of bed.  I probably could have held it a little longer, but I decided to pee.  I don’t know why I did it, but it had been a long time since I wet the bed.   I felt like a little kid again and was oddly satisfied when I woke up.  I didn’t want to say anything to my mom.  I just left the sheets on the bed and put my pajamas at the bottom of the hamper.

My mom didn’t say anything to me when I got home, but the plastic sheet was back on my bed.  That meant that she knew I wet the bed.  Mom took that off in February after I went a full year without wetting the bed.  It happened again a few nights later, and this time my mom asked, “Is something wrong?  You wet the bed again last night.”

I shook my head, “No, I don’t think so.”

“Do you know why you’re wetting the bed again?”

“No.”

I don’t think my mom was convinced.  She asked, “Why didn’t you tell me that you wet the bed?”

I looked away and mumbled, “I was embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed?  Mark, honey, you can’t keep things like that to yourself.  I thought you were old enough to know better, but I’m afraid that we have to go back to the same rules that we had before, do you remember?”

I protested, “Mom!  That was a long time ago.”

Mom laughed, “It wasn’t that long ago.  You’ll need to wear Pull-ups at night, and I’m going to check them in the morning.”

I protested, “Mom!  I’m twelve years old.”

“Yeah, and you still wet the bed.”

I cried, “It won’t happen again.  I promise.”

Mom shook her head, “I don’t know how you can promise that unless you’re doing it on purpose.  Are you wetting the bed on purpose?”

I honestly don’t know what would have happened if I told the truth.  I indignantly protested, “No!”

Mom shrugged, “That means that you have to wear Pull-ups until you can stay dry at night.  No underwear until you are dry five nights in a row.”

Mom used real Pull-ups and not Goodnites.  The Pull-ups were meant as a warning.  My big kid status was in jeopardy, and that’s why she used the Pull-ups that little kids wore.  However, I kept all of my big kid privileges.  She put the rails back on my bed, but they were lowered, and it didn’t look like a crib.   I had to get ready for bed by eight o’clock, but my bedtime was still ten o’clock.

My Pull-up was wet the next morning, and mom warned, “You need to stay dry. You’ll have to go back to diapers if this doesn’t stop.”

Part of me wanted to wear diapers again, but we were going to be leaving on a trip in a couple of weeks, and I didn’t want to wear diapers in front of my cousins.   I decided not to wet the bed anymore.  I figured everything would be back to normal in a week.

That day was the last day of school, and we had a class party with a whole bunch of candy, cake, chips, pizza, and soda.  It was a kid’s dream, and I had my fill.  Unfortunately, the sugar and junk food cause my stomach to rumble.  I felt a lot of pressure and tried to fart, but it wasn’t just a fart.  Let’s just say that it had a consistency of chocolate pudding and was big enough for my mom to notice.

Mom asked, “What happened?  Why didn’t you get to the potty?”

I cried, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.   I was trying to fart and it just kinda came out.”  This time I was telling the truth.

Mom sighed.  “All right let’s just clean it up.  Hopefully, it’s just a one-time thing.”    

She handed me a Pull-up after I was cleaned up, and I protested.  “Mom!  I don’t want to wear that.  I’m not a baby!”

“I’m sorry honey, but those are the rules.  You have to wear Pull-ups if you have an accident.”

I cried, “Mom, I’m almost a teenager.  I’m in middle school now!  Why are you treating me like a baby?”

“I need to know that you are potty trained before I can let you wear underwear.”

I stomped my foot.  “I am potty trained, so I don’t need those!” I was trying to sound mature, but it sounded more like a three-year-old’s tantrum.

Mom sighed, “I thought we were done with all of this, but you’ve wet the bed three times and now you’ve pooped your pants.  Maybe it’s just a phase, but I’m not sure that you are potty trained anymore.  Emily had to wear Pull-ups after she peed her pants, so it’s only fair that you have to wear them after you pooped your pants.”

I cried, “How long do I have to wear them?”

“I’m hoping it’s only three days.  Remember, these aren’t diapers, and you still need to use the potty.”

I asked, “Does that mean I’m going back to diapers if this keeps happening?”

Mom replied, “Maybe, but let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

I was conflicted.   There was a part of me that wanted to be a baby again and go back to diapers.  I don’t know why I wanted to wear diapers, but I did.  It was summer break so none of my friends would know.  However, I was also a pre-teen and wanted to be a teenager.  I wanted to go to R-rated movies and hang out with friends.  I sulked the rest of the day, but I didn’t have an accident.

Mom seemed genuinely proud of me when she checked my Pull-up that night.  She praised me, “Good job!  You’re still dry.  Now, it’s time to get ready for bed.”

“Why?  It’s not even eight o’clock!”

“That’s now your bedtime.”  She said that with a calm demeanor, so I didn’t know if she was mad.

I whined, “But it’s not a school night.”

Mom retorted, “Mark, stop your whining right now!  That’s for big kids, but you lost that privilege when you pooped your pants.  Big kids don’t wear diapers, so you can’t have a big kid's bedtime.  Is that understood?”  When I didn’t answer her, she repeated it.  “Is that understood?”

I reluctantly replied, “Yes.”

“Do you want to take a shower, or should I give you a bath?”

I muttered, “Neither.”

“That’s not an option.  Make a choice, or I’ll make one for you.”

I reluctantly answered, “I’ll take a shower.”

Mom replied, “Go take your shower, and then come out here after you are done.  I need to get you in a diaper.”

I pleaded, “Mom!  Please.  I’m sorry.”

Mom shook her head.  “No, we’re not doing that.  Go! Shower! Now!”

I knew my mom meant business when she used one-word commands.  I tried to take the longest shower possible, but mom stopped me.  “Mark, you’re done.  Hop out and come to the living room.”

I know that my mom was angry and frustrated, but she didn’t show it.   She pointed to the changing pad and said, “Lie down here.”

Mom plopped a pacifier in my mouth, lifted my legs to powder my butt, and then secured the diaper around my waist.  She then helped me into my pajamas and took me to my bedroom.  My bed now had three rails already pulled up, and it looked like a crib.  The extra diapers were visible, so my bedroom now looked like a nursery.  Mom didn’t help matters when she said, “Climb into your crib.”

I tried to reclaim my dignity.    “Can you call it a bed?”

“Not if you’re in diapers.”  She kissed my forehead, pulled up the rail, and said, “Goodnight.  Remember, don’t get out of your crib until I let you out.”

I pulled my pacifier out of my mouth and asked, “Mom, how long do I have to do this?”

Mom replied, “That depends.  Are you going to have any more accidents?”  I shook my head.  She asked, “Do you like being a baby?”

I scoffed, “No.”

“Okay.  If you can go three days without an accident in your Pull-ups, you can wear underwear again.   That means you need to make it through the weekend, and all of Monday without an accident.  Then we can start with nighttime potty training. You need to be dry for five nights in a row to wear Pull-ups, and five more nights to go back to underwear.”  I did the math in my head.  I had to wear diapers until the next Saturday, and then another five nights to get my underwear back.  If I did everything right, I wouldn’t have to wear Pull-ups on our trip.

I peed in my diaper that night.  I was in Pull-ups during the day, so I didn’t think it mattered if I wet my diaper at night.  Mom noticed the wet diaper and said, “It looks like you used your diaper last night.  I’ll change you after breakfast.”   She led me into the kitchen and pointed towards a highchair.  “Hop up.”

I begged, “Mom, please.  I’m too big.”

Mom shook her head.  “You’re not too big to wet your diaper.  Little kids sit in a highchair.”

I begged, “I’m sorry.  Please, mom.  It won’t happen again.”

Mom sighed, “I’m not sure if we should be worrying about potty training if you are going to be so fussy.  Maybe we should take a break.”

I knew that meant that I would stay in diapers during the day.   I cried, “What?  Please, no!”

Mom asked, “Are you going to stop your whining?”  I nodded. Mom continued, “Then get in your highchair, and stop pouting.  It’s time for breakfast.”

My mom had a very strict ‘no teasing’ policy in our house.  I had to wear diapers more often than Emily, but she never made fun of me.  I never made fun of her either, but I broke that pact after she peed her pants that year.  She saw me sitting in the highchair and smirked, “Did little Mark wet his diaper last night?”

Mom rebuked, “Emily, stop teasing.”

I was still mad about the diapers and highchair and decided to stage a protest.  I purposely peed in my Pull-ups.  I wanted to make my mom mad, but she didn’t react.  She just handed me another Pull-up and said, “Remember, you’re supposed to use the potty.  You’ll have to go back to diapers if you have another accident.”

I was still mad and did it again that afternoon.   That was two accidents on the same day!  This time Mom said, “I don’t think you’re ready to be potty trained.  We’ll have to go back to diapers and try again when you’re ready.” I tried to protest, but Mom just looked at me and said, “Don’t start with that.  You can’t be a big boy if you don’t use the potty.”  She put me in a diaper and said, “I’ll let you play, but then it’s time for your nap.”  I started to walk to my room, but mom stopped me.  “Mark, stay here.  Remember, little kids can’t be by themselves.  You’re not allowed to open closed doors.”

My parents went out to dinner that night, which meant that our neighbor, Jessica came over to babysit.  I was old enough to stay by myself, but my mom didn’t trust me to take care of my sister, who was now ten years old.  Jessica was two years ahead of me in school, but she was only thirteen. Fortunately, Jessica usually left me alone and spent time with Emily.  Jessica also knew about my mom’s methods because her older sister was our babysitter when we were younger, and Jessica diapered Emily when she had to sleep in diapers.

Mom announced, “I’m afraid that we’ve had a potty-training setback.”

Jessica asked, “Did Emily have another accident?”

Emily reacted angrily and shouted, “No!”

My mom shook her head, “No, Emily is fine.  It’s Mark.   He started wetting the bed again and then pooped his pants yesterday. He had two more accidents today.”

Jessica asked, “Is he wearing a diaper?”

My mom nodded, “Yes, we are taking a break from potty training.  We might try again next week, but I’m afraid it’s diapers until then.”

Jessica asked, “Does he change himself?”

Mom shook her head, “Oh no. He’s not a big boy anymore.  I just changed his diaper, but you might need to change it before bedtime. Don’t worry, I’m paying you extra.”

Jessica beamed when she heard about the extra money.  “What else do I have to do?”

Mom asked, “Do you babysit any other little kids?”

Jessica nodded.  “Yeah, I babysit for the Johanson’s.  Their youngest is three and still in diapers, and the oldest is five and wears them at night.”

My mom remarked, “Big kids don’t wear diapers, so treat Mark like he is three years old.”

I pleaded, “Mom!  Please, don’t do this.”

My mom snapped, “Well, if you used the potty like a big boy, I wouldn’t have to, would I?”  She turned her attention to Jessica and said, “His bedtime is 8 o'clock.  Don’t leave him alone, and he has to use a sippy cup.  It’s not a school night, so Emily can stay up until ten.  We should be back close to that time, but hopefully, she will be in bed before we get home.”

We hung out in the living room for an hour and a half. I wanted to go to my room, but Jessica didn’t let me.  At eight o’clock, she announced, “Mark, it’s time for bed.”

I protested, “No! Please! I’m too old for this.”

Jessica said, “Sorry, but your mom said your bedtime is eight o’clock, and it’s eight o’clock.  It’s time for bed.”

I shouted, “I’m not going, and you can’t make me.”

“Yes, I can, and you’re going to time out.”

“No!”

By this point, Emily was pleading, “Mark, just go.  Mommy’s going to be mad, and you’re only making it worse.”

Jessica pointed to the corner and said, “Go!”

I stomped to the corner and sulked.  I tried to poop in my diaper, but I couldn’t.  I could only pee.

After a while, Jessica asked, “Are you done with your tantrum?”  She put her hand on my diaper and said, “You’re wet.  I’m going to change your diaper, and then it’s time for bed.”  She changed me and acted like it was normal.  After she finished, she asked, “Does that feel better?”

I nodded and felt bad that I had given her a hard time.  I also didn’t want her to tell my mom about the tantrum. I said, “I’m sorry.  Please don’t tell my mom.”

Jessica asked, “Are you going to be good?”  I nodded, and she continued, “Okay, I won’t tell your mom, but you have to be good.  You have to stay in your crib, and you have to go to sleep.  No more pouting!”

I agreed, “Okay, I’ll be good.”

“It’s already 8:20, which is past your bedtime.”  She took me into my bedroom, which I guess was now my nursery, and helped me into my crib.  She pulled the rails, turned out the light, and said, “Good night.”

[wetdiaper55]

I do like your writing

[spark]

15 hours ago, wetdiaper55 said:

I do like your writing

Thank you

[spark]

The last time we left, Jessica had just put Mark to bed and promised not to tell his mom he threw a tantrum.

Potty Training

Fortunately, Jessica didn’t tell my mom about my outburst.  After that, I trusted Jessica and she seemed to trust me.  I rarely disobeyed her, and she didn’t tell anybody that I wore diapers.  She even protected me when other kids made fun of me.

My mom said, “We are taking a break from potty training; just use your diaper.”  Even if I knew that I had to go to the bathroom, I had to use my diaper.  She put toddler gates around the house to keep me from wandering around.  I wasn’t allowed to open the gates, nor could I open any doors.  The next morning my mom caught me opening the gate.  She asked, “Where do you think you are going?  Don’t open the gate!  It’s there to keep you safe, do you understand?”

I replied, “But I need to use the bathroom.”  I wanted to sound like a big kid.

Mom shook her head.  “Stay there and don’t open the gate!  You are not ready to use the potty yet; that’s why you are wearing a diaper.”

I whined, “But I need to poo.”

Mom sighed, “That’s enough whining.”  She plopped a pacifier in my mouth.  “Suck on your binky and settle down.  No more whining!”  In defiance, I pulled it out.  She glared and said, “Keep that in your mouth.”

I screamed, “No!  I’m going to the bathroom!”

My mom caught me as I tried to bolt past her.  She grabbed my arm, just above my wrist, and firmly swatted the back of my diaper with her other hand.  My parents never spanked us, even when we were little, but sometimes they would swat us on our butt.  It didn’t happen often, and it was never hard.  It was just meant to get our attention and stop us from doing whatever we were doing.  The swat didn’t hurt.  The diaper cushioned it pretty well, but it surprised me.  She hadn’t done that since I was six years old.  She said, “I didn’t want to do this, but I can’t trust you to be good.  You are going into your playpen, and you are staying there for the rest of the day.”  I didn’t even realize we still had a playpen.  Mom set up the playpen in the living room and told me to get inside.  I pulled away, but she grabbed me and put me into the playpen.  “Sit down!  Stay in there.   If you want a toy, ask your sister.”

I still had to poo, and I was mad, so I pooped in the diaper, hoping to punish my mom. Emily noticed, and with a little bit of glee, she said, “Mommy, Mark just pooped in his diaper.  It smells really bad!”

Mom admonished her.  “Emily, honey, don’t make fun of your brother.  He’s not ready to use the potty like a big boy.”

“But Mommy, it smells!”

My mom replied, “Then leave.  If you can’t be nice, don’t stay here.  You’re a big girl and you can stay in your room or go to the pool.”

Mom kept me in my poopy diaper for a while longer.  I begged her to change it, but she ignored me.  I’m not sure how long I waited, but she finally pulled the back of my diaper and said, “You have a stinky diaper.  Emily, can you get me a new diaper and some powder?  I’ll need some wipes as well.”

Emily gleefully replied, “Okay, Mommy!”  She came back with the diaper bag, pad, wipes, and baby powder.  

My mom changed my diaper on the living room floor, with Emily watching the whole time.  When I complained, Mom said, “I wouldn’t have to do this if you used the potty like a big boy.”

Fortunately, Emily started being nice to me after that.  I think she felt sorry for me and knew I was bored.  She tried to play with me, but Mom stopped her.  “Emily, leave Mark alone.  He is in his playpen and can’t play with you today.”

I was let out of the playpen for lunch, which I had to eat from a highchair, and then I took my nap.   I went back to my playpen after the nap and stayed there until dinner.  I had a little bit of time after dinner, but my bedtime was 7:30.

The next morning my mom asked, “Are you going to be good today, or do you need another day in the Playpen?”

I mumbled, “I’ll be good.”

Mom smiled, “Good.  Remember that you can’t be a big kid until you are potty trained.  Big kids don’t wear diapers.  You don’t have any big kid privileges right now.  You have to stay with an adult, and you can’t open any doors.  You have to ask first, and you have to stay where you are.”

I wasn’t allowed to leave our apartment without my mom or Jessica, but I could wander around the house as long as I stayed close to Emily.   When we were home, I sat in a highchair for meals, as well as snacks.  I drank from a sippy cup when I was in the kitchen and used a bottle when I wasn’t.  I took a nap every afternoon, and I had an 8 o’clock bedtime.   My mom ignored me when I mentioned anything about my diaper or needing to use the bathroom.   She acted like it was baby babble and made me use a pacifier if I didn’t stop.  I gave up after a few days, and just waited until somebody checked my diaper.  Fortunately, it was checked frequently, and I didn’t have to spend much time in a  soggy or smelly diaper.

I couldn’t exert any level of independence.  I was scolded whenever I tried to do something on my own, put in timeout if I didn’t listen, and there was a constant threat of going back into the playpen.  The worst part was that I wasn’t allowed to swim.  You weren’t allowed in the pool unless you were potty trained, and I wasn’t potty trained.  All the kids hung out at the pool when school was out.  My mom bought me a swim diaper, but I didn’t want the other kids to see me, so I stayed at home.

I rarely left our apartment, so nobody knew I was treated like a baby.  Unfortunately, my mom took me shopping one day and made me sit in a stroller.   That’s what she did when I was younger, but I hoped she wouldn’t do that this time.  Nobody could see my diaper, and nobody knew that I slept in a crib, or sat in a highchair.  However, everybody could see me sitting in a stroller.  I might not have looked like I was twelve years old, but it was obvious I was too old for a stroller.   I pulled away and said, “Mom, I can’t sit there.  People will see me.”

My mom didn’t care.  She didn’t care when I was eight; why should she care now that I was twelve?  She put a pacifier in my mouth and said, “So what! I don’t want you to run off.  Little kids ride in the stroller.”  At least I didn’t have to sit in a highchair when we went to McDonalds.

I wasn’t sure when Mom would start potty training me again.  The last time I wore diapers was when I was in fourth grade.   I went back to diapers on the first day of spring break and wore them until the next Sunday.  She let me use the potty on the Saturday before Easter, and I wore Pull-ups to school for three days.  We didn’t have to worry about school this time, but we were leaving on a long trip in two weeks.

After a week in diapers, she took me to the bathroom and said, “Let’s see if you are ready to use the potty; sit here and try to go poo-poo like a big boy.”  At least she didn’t make me sit on a little kid’s potty and I had the privacy of the bathroom.   Thankfully I needed to poop and did it in the toilet.  My mom praised me, “Yay! you pooped in the potty like a big boy.” 

I protested after she started to wipe my bottom, “Mom, I can wipe myself.  You don’t have to do that.”

Mom scoffed, “Really?  We are starting from scratch so that we get it right this time.  I’ll let you do it on your own when you show me that you can do it on your own.”

I whined, “Mom, I’m not a baby!  I can wipe myself.”

Mom sighed, “If you won’t cooperate, you can’t be potty trained.  Maybe you just aren’t ready, and we need to wait.”

That was enough and I mumbled, “I’ll be good,” and let her do it.

After she finished, she said, “Remember, big kids use the potty, and I want you to be a big boy.  Let me know if you need to use the potty.”

An hour later she took me to the bathroom again.  After I peed, she said, “That’s good, I’m glad you used the potty like a big boy, but next time tell me before you need to go.”

I had to go again an hour later and this time I asked her to take me to the potty, which earned huge praise.  Unfortunately, my diaper was wet when she checked it after lunch.  She wasn’t mad, but I could tell she was disappointed.  I was wet again after my nap, and after she changed my diaper, she said, “I’m not going to tell you to use the potty anymore.  You need to tell me before you go, and I’ll take you.”

I peed in the potty three more times after my nap.  I didn’t want to wet my diaper, so I kept asking my mom to take me to the potty.  I also wanted her to get tired of taking me to the bathroom and put me in Pull-ups as soon as possible.  Unfortunately, I didn’t pee every time, which made my mom mad.

The next morning, she asked if I needed to use the potty.  I sat on the toilet for five minutes and didn’t poop.  I suddenly had to poo after breakfast and cried out, “Mommy, I need to potty!”  I’m not sure why I used baby talk, but I did.

My mom sighed, “We just tried.  You have to wait.”

I whined, “But Mommy, it’s #2.”

Mom was exasperated and said, “Part of being a big boy is waiting to use the potty.  I want you to wait thirty minutes.”

I wailed, “But I need to go now!”   My mom didn’t say anything.  She just gave me a look and I knew I had to stop whining.

Unfortunately, I didn’t make it and pooped in my diaper.  I could tell Mom was disappointed.  She cleaned me up and then said, “This isn’t working.  I think we have to wait until we get back from home leave.”  Home leave was what we called our summer trip.

I begged, “No!  Please!  I can do it.  Let me try!  I promise I’m not going to pee my pants anymore.  Please, Mommy!”

My mom decided to give me another chance.  She said, “Okay, we can try again,  but you can’t ask to go to the potty every thirty minutes.  I want you to hold it.  You have to wait until lunchtime.”

I tried to hold it, but I needed to pee by nine O’clock.  I waited until eleven O’clock and finally cried out, “Mommy, I need to pee.”

Mom shook her head.  “Big kids can wait.  You need to wait another hour.”

I couldn’t wait and started peeing a few minutes later, and I didn’t tell her.  I just waited until she checked my diaper at lunchtime.  She asked, “What happened?”

I cried, “I tried to hold it, but I couldn’t.”

Mom  sighed, “Let’s just change your diaper, and then we can have some lunch.”

I whimpered, “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?  You have nothing to be sorry about.  You aren’t ready to be potty trained.  We’ll just have to wait and try again.”

I asked, “How long will I have to be in diapers?”

“I don’t know.  It depends.  I’m not going to worry about it until we get back from our home leave.  It might be a few months.”

It wasn’t even the middle of June, and we wouldn’t get back until August.  I groaned, “But that isn’t until August.”

Mom moaned, “Trust me, I know.”

I asked, “Can I be a big boy, even if I wear diapers?”

Mom looked at me like I was crazy and asked, “Do big boys wear diapers?”

[spark]

Home Leave

We lived in Asia and would go back to the United States to visit my relatives during the summer, which was why we called it home leave.  That year we visited my dad’s family in California first, and then two weeks with my mom’s family, and finally two weeks in Germany.

My mom didn’t change my diaper in public unless it was messy or really wet.  It was easier to wait until we got home.  However, she didn’t want to change my diaper in the middle of the flight, so she changed me before we boarded our plane in a family restroom.  I guess that was better because nobody could see me.  Unfortunately, I had to use a stroller at the airport, and that was worse than going shopping.  Most of the people didn’t pay attention while we shopped.  I think a few people noticed the big kid in a stroller, but they ignored it.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t true at the airport.  It felt like everybody was staring at me.   I begged, “Mom, let me out!  I’m too old for a stroller!  Everybody can see me!”

My mom didn’t care.   She said, “If I could trust you to stay close by, I wouldn’t have to; would I?  We almost missed our flight last time because you ran off.   You’re wearing diapers.  If you aren’t too old for diapers, you’re not too old for a stroller.  Now, stop fussing!”

I whined, “But Mommy!  It’s not fair,” and started crying, which made me look even worse.

At the gate, a woman with a young child asked my mom, “Excuse me for asking, but why is your son in a stroller?  Isn’t he too old for that?  Does he have mobility issues?”

My mom calmly replied, “No, it’s for his safety.  He sometimes wanders away from us and doesn’t listen when I call for him.  I didn’t want to risk it anymore, so it was either a stroller or a harness.”

The woman gave my mom a strange look and remarked, “I guess that makes sense.”

We also got strange looks from the crew, especially when they looked at my passport and noticed how old I was.

My aunt picked us up from the airport and was surprised to see me sitting in a stroller.   “Why is Mark in a stroller?”

My mom sighed, “He’s been having issues lately.  Back in March, he ran off and we almost missed our flight looking for him.  If that wasn’t bad enough, he’s been having accidents and I had to put him back in diapers.”

My aunt asked, “Is it just at night, or has it happened during the day?”

My mom sighed,  “During the day as well.”

My grandma seemed ok with my mom’s methods.   My dad wet his bed until he was a teenager, and my grandma punished him for it.  I don’t know what she did, but she didn’t seem to mind when my mom treated me like a baby.  I heard her say, “If he acts like a baby, you should treat him like one.”  At least I didn’t have to sleep in a crib, or sit in a highchair, but only because she didn’t have one.

On the other hand, my aunt questioned it.   She told my mom, “Mary, he’s far too old for diapers.  You can’t treat him like a baby and expect him to grow up.   I just can’t imagine changing a twelve-year-old’s diaper.  I’m so glad that both of mine were out of diapers before they were three.”

My cousins were both older than me.  Trent was twenty and in college, while Taylor was seventeen.  My mom replied, “You’ve been out of the potty-training business for a long time.  I wish it was that easy for us.”

My aunt boasted, “It’s been a while, but if you give me a week, I’m sure I could get Mark to be dry, even at night.”

My mom rolled her eyes, “If you want to, go for it.  It would be a huge favor to me if you did, even if it is just during the day.”

My aunt seemed to think she could just take away my diapers and I would magically become potty trained. My mom didn’t pack any underwear for me, so we had to go to the store.  My aunt handed them to me and said, “You’re too old for diapers, so you can’t wear them anymore.  You’re old enough to use the toilet by yourself, and I’m not going to harass you about it.   I know that you don’t want to pee your pants, so if you need to go, go.”

At first, it felt great to be trusted like a big kid again.  My aunt left me alone and I could do almost anything I wanted to do.  I tried to let her know when I had to use the bathroom, but she said, “Mark, you don’t need to tell me.  You’re twelve years old, just go when you need to go.”

I did pretty well on the first day.  I almost had an accident.  I stopped peeing before I let too much out, so I didn’t count it and didn’t tell my aunt.  My aunt wouldn’t let me wear Pull-ups at night and I wet the bed.

Unfortunately, I got distracted and forgot about the potty a couple of times the next day.  My aunt didn’t remind me to go, and I didn’t think about it.  At first, she stayed calm and blamed my mom for messing me up.  She said, “Honey, your mom did a number on you.  Remember, you’re not wearing a diaper and need to use the toilet.  I know you can do this, you’re much too old to be peeing your pants.”  She almost said, “Like a baby,” but stopped herself.

I had more accidents the next day, so she started using a timer.  She made me sit on the toilet for five minutes every hour.  I hated it and I didn’t have to go that much.  I whined, “But I don’t have to go.”

My aunt was frustrated and in a stern voice, she said, “Just sit there and try.  This is ridiculous.”

She told me to stay in the bathroom for five minutes, but I only stayed a minute and left before I peed.  The next time, she made sure I didn’t leave and stayed there with me.   She was furious when I wet my pants fifteen minutes after an unsuccessful bathroom visit.  She said, “I’m done with this.  I’m not dealing with diapers, and I’m not potty training a twelve-year-old!  You’re not my problem anymore.” She asked my cousin to take care of me until my mom picked me up.

To be honest, I was done with it as well.  My aunt yelling at me was worse than being a baby.  Fortunately, Taylor was nice.  She calmly asked me if I wanted to wear diapers.  I cried, “I don’t want another accident, can I wear a diaper?”

She agreed, and then asked, “Why do you keep wetting your pants?”

I shrugged, “I don’t know.  It just started happening a few weeks ago.”

Taylor had a questioning look, “Do you like it?”  I stammered and didn’t know how to respond.  She clarified,   “Do you like getting attention and being treated like a baby?”

I tried to deny it, but I gave it away when I started to blush.  She smiled, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anybody, but remember, the longer you go, the harder it will be to go back to wearing underwear.  I don’t think you want to wear diapers to school, do you?”

After two failed potty-training attempts, my mom decided to keep me in diapers for the rest of the summer.  She never asked if I wanted to use the potty, nor did she ever take me to the bathroom.  She didn’t even bother to ask me about my diaper.  She just checked it and changed me when I needed to be changed.

After California, we went to Minnesota to visit my mom’s family.  My Uncle Ron used to wet the bed and had to wear diapers until he was fifteen, so it wasn’t a big deal for me to wear them.  He might have also slept in a crib.  I’m not sure about that, but when my grandma found out that I was back in diapers and my mom wanted a crib, she snarked, “Just like Ronny.”  She then said, “Dalia doesn’t use her crib anymore, so Mark can use it.”

Dalia was my youngest cousin; she was three years old and didn’t understand why a big kid like me needed diapers.  She asked, “Why does he wear diapers?  Big kids don’t wear diapers.”

My mom explained, “That’s right, big kids don’t wear diapers, but it takes some kids longer to use the potty.  Mark isn’t ready to be a big boy yet because he still wears diapers.”

That made sense to Dalia.  In every sense, I was more of a baby than she was.  I wore diapers, and she didn’t.  I slept in a crib while she slept in a bed, and I used a highchair.   Why wouldn’t a three-year-old think of me as just a baby?

Her sister, Ericka, thought it was funny and tried to tease me about my diapers, but my uncle stopped that quickly.  I later learned that Ericka, who is two years older than Dalia, still wet her bed, and her parents wanted me to be a warning for her.  The worst part was when we went to an amusement park, and I had to ride in a stroller.  At least Dalia had one as well, while Ericka and Emily didn’t.  I knew that it would be worse if I threw a tantrum, so I just went along with it.

My mom didn’t relent on the baby treatment in Germany.  Things stayed pretty much the same.  She made me use a stroller unless we were walking through the hotel, so it felt like I was in it all the time.  I slept in a crib at night, and it was embarrassing when the bellboys would bring it up.   They stared at Emily and me, and I’m sure they wondered which one of us was going to sleep in the crib.  Whenever Emily could, she would point and let them know it wasn’t her.  Fortunately, we ate in a lot of restaurants and my mom didn’t make me sit in a highchair.  I only had to sit in a highchair when we ate in private.

After six weeks, I was used to wetting my diaper.  I barely noticed when I peed.  My diaper was constantly wet, and it never seemed to bother me.   At least I still knew when I had to poo and could avoid pooping in public.  My mom made me use my diaper, even if she knew I was going to poop.  She never let me use the toilet the entire trip.

Potty training, again!

I started potty training again when we got back home.  I wanted to be out of diapers before school started, which was in two weeks.  I didn’t think it would be a problem.  I just had to use the potty and not wet my diaper.  If I did that enough times, my mom would let me wear Pull-ups.  I needed three consecutive days without an accident, and I would be back in underwear.  I did the math in my head.  I could be completely free of diapers before school started, even during the night.

I constantly asked my mom to take me to the bathroom, but she caught on and made me wait two hours between trips.  It didn’t matter and it only took me a day.  I stayed dry and didn’t wet my diaper once. I got to wear Pull-ups and wasn’t a baby anymore, at least during the day.  I still wore diapers at night, which meant I slept in a crib and still had an early bedtime.  But I didn’t have to stay in the same room, and I didn’t have to use that stupid stroller!

I could use the toilet whenever I wanted, but I had to tell my mom when I did.  She checked my Pull-up to make sure I was dry but didn’t pay too much attention to anything else I did.   I stayed dry on the first day but had an accident the second day.  I started over and this time I made it two days, but I had another accident on the third day.    Unfortunately, that was two accidents, and I had to go back to diapers.

I begged, “Mommy, please.  Give me another chance.  Just let me wear Pull-ups.”

My mom responded, "No!  Pull-ups are only to see if you are ready for underwear, and you’re not.  You have to stay in diapers.  We will try again in a few weeks.”

I was devastated and whined, “What about school?”

My mom let the school know that I had issues getting to the toilet and needed diapers.  Although, she didn’t call them diapers; she said I needed protection.   The school was fine with it.  I got to go to the bathroom whenever I wanted, and I could use the nurse’s office if I needed to, but I didn’t have to.  My mom changed my diaper when I came home for lunch, and it was always wet, even when I used the bathroom at school.   I kept my shorts on, so I didn’t have to expose my diaper in PE.

My mom let up a little bit on the baby treatment.  I was still treated like a baby at home, but not around other kids.  I slept in a crib and used sippy cups, but I only had to sit in the highchair when I was bad.  I also didn’t have to use a stroller unless I wandered off.

Eventually, somebody saw my diaper and I became known as that kid in diapers.  It was a big deal until it wasn’t.  There were only about fifty kids in the school, so it didn’t take long for everybody to find out.  Once everybody knew I wore diapers, it wasn’t a big deal anymore.  Most kids moved on to other things, and nobody seemed to care about my diapers.   Occasionally, somebody would try, but most kids thought it was stupid to tease me about something I couldn’t control.

I wore diapers until I started high school, and I still had accidents after that.  When I was old enough, my mom let me handle it by myself.  I learned how to change my diaper and could wear whatever I wanted.  I just had to dispose of used diapers properly and handle any accidents.  However, sometimes I leave diapers on the floor or ignore an accident.   When that happens, my mom takes control and I go back to being a baby.

The End

 

[keith60]

good story

[Baby Billy]

On 12/4/2023 at 12:53 AM, DiaperloverontheDL said:

Dude this is a child. If ur gonna post a story please post an adult 

Read the rules, there is nothing wrong with this story and it does not break the rule.  There is no sexual content involved.

[spark]

7 hours ago, keith60 said:

good story

Thanks

6 hours ago, Baby Billy said:

Read the rules, there is nothing wrong with this story and it does not break the rule.  There is no sexual content involved.

That particular poster had only posted once before that day and hasn't visited this site since.

 

There is no sexual content.  It's simply a hypothetical story about a kid who doesn't want to be potty trained anymore.

[DiaperloverontheDL]

On 1/8/2024 at 9:11 PM, spark said:

That particular poster had only posted once before that day and hasn't visited this site since

I usually lurk and forget to log in. I just find it weird to post a story involving a child in a situation involving a diaper on a fetish site for diapers. A few people have mentioned my grammar and that’s just text slang. May be a personal preference thing I guess I’m the odd one out here

[A_Pale_Spirit]

3 hours ago, DiaperloverontheDL said:

I usually lurk and forget to log in. I just find it weird to post a story involving a child in a situation involving a diaper on a fetish site for diapers. A few people have mentioned my grammar and that’s just text slang. May be a personal preference thing I guess I’m the odd one out here

No idea why you'd find it weird. Like everybody mentioned, the story is 100% non-sexual.

And like I commented before, in my opinion it's way more disturbing that sexual stories are posted on this site at all even with adult characters but I don't go commenting on those stories that they're weird.

On the other hand, there is nothing at all weird about a completely non-sexual story just because "a child is wearing a diaper." The amount of kids who are older bedwetters and wear diapers/pull-ups at night is a high amount so there's nothing weird at all about a story about it.

[spark]

16 hours ago, DiaperloverontheDL said:

I usually lurk and forget to log in. I just find it weird to post a story involving a child in a situation involving a diaper on a fetish site for diapers. A few people have mentioned my grammar and that’s just text slang. May be a personal preference thing I guess I’m the odd one out here

You have a right to your opinion, but there are far more disturbing ones that involve adults- several just happen to be 18 years old and resemble children.  That is a large of the ABDL books on Amazon are explicit and sadistic, and some have characters are 18 years old.   I find those books disturbing, but I don't read them.

This is strictly a story a boy with a crazy mom to puts him back in diapers, and begs the question of whether the boy is purposely self-sabotaging himself so he can stay in diapers.  One of the best stories that we've had on this board is about a 15-year-old girl who got treated like a baby because she kept wetting her pants.   

The question is: why would you open up a story called, "I'm not a Big Kid, yet!" if averse to stories about children in diapers?   The title is a clear riff on the slogan for Pull-ups.

I share the same feelings as @A_Pale_Spirit.  I'm asexual, and the stories involving sex turn me off.    There aren't many available stories meet that criteria for me.   A lot of them also include forced feminization, which I find disturbing.  IMO- it enforces a misogynistic idea that females are infantile.

[Nat]

On 12/3/2023 at 9:53 PM, DiaperloverontheDL said:

Dude this is a child. If ur gonna post a story please post an adult 

Honestly, this feels like All My Mother's Rules because of the same treatment their mother is using. Clearly the child has medical issues and should have been taken to a doctor. 

[spark]

4 minutes ago, Nat said:

Honestly, this feels like All My Mother's Rules because of the same treatment their mother is using. Clearly the child has medical issues and should have been taken to a doctor. 

It's heavily influenced by All My Mother's Rules, but this mom is more BSC than narcissistic.  I

It is a story that I tried to write many times over the last few years.  I grew up as an American oil brat in Asia and we traveled for 6 weeks every summer.  Since I discovered diaper stories, I've wanted to write a story about a child who gets put in diapers for that trip.  I don't know how my parents would have handled it had I been accident-prone, but it was before Pull-ups so it would be wet pants or diapers.  However, I didn't always stay close to my parents when went through large international airports when I was a kid.   It tended to freak my mom out (for obvious reasons), but she didn't resort to using a stroller or harness

I left out the medical stuff, but his accidents weren't meant to be caused by medical issues.   I don't state directly, but he failed potty training because he wanted to stay in diapers.

[Nat]

What does BSC stand for?

[spark]

27 minutes ago, Nat said:

What does BSC stand for?

Bat Shit Crazy

The mom in this story is not mean but wants to keep her children as babies.

[Piddly]

On 2/13/2024 at 9:51 AM, DiaperloverontheDL said:

I usually lurk and forget to log in. I just find it weird to post a story involving a child in a situation involving a diaper on a fetish site for diapers. A few people have mentioned my grammar and that’s just text slang. May be a personal preference thing I guess I’m the odd one out here

I’ve had some similar feedback about my stories, albeit on other sites where the content does tend to be more adult in nature, and perhaps it’s fair to say that what I write doesn’t fit there.

I’d argue that having an interest in diapers doesn’t need to be a fetish, nor sexual in nature. I’m asexual, I have zero interest in that side of things and tend to just scroll past the more mature stories for that reason. But I can and do relate well to childhood stories like this one, they come across as more natural and ‘believable’ (inverted commas because they’re still fiction).

Don’t get me wrong, there will no doubt be some people who will read an entirely innocent story and find sexual gratification in it, but that’s very much on the individual rather than the author. 
 

@sparkplease keep up the excellent work, there are plenty of us out here who love reading what you’re doing, and who aren’t looking for something that isn’t there. 

[Nat]

14 hours ago, spark said:

Bat Shit Crazy

The mom in this story is not mean but wants to keep her children as babies.

Since he has no medical issue, I guess what she is doing what you will call reverse psychology so he would stop doing it. This is how some parents have potty trained their toddlers as well as a way to get them to give up diapers so they potty train because they want more freedom. 

Then after a while the mom just accepts this is part of who he is and he is never going to quit so best to let him wear them and take care of it himself. I wish I had a mom like that, just let me wear whenever and say nothing about it and pretend she doesn't notice. It's a matter of choosing your battles. 

[spark]

2 hours ago, Nat said:

Since he has no medical issue, I guess what she is doing what you will call reverse psychology so he would stop doing it. This is how some parents have potty trained their toddlers as well as a way to get them to give up diapers so they potty train because they want more freedom. 

Then after a while the mom just accepts this is part of who he is and he is never going to quit so best to let him wear them and take care of it himself. I wish I had a mom like that, just let me wear whenever and say nothing about it and pretend she doesn't notice. It's a matter of choosing your battles. 

The age choice was deliberate and it is significant for both parent and child.  Going from 12 to 13 and going from elementary to middle school means that you are leaving that child stage.   They are developing an identity, and a lot more independence, which is scary for both child and parent.     In this case, there is a boy who isn't ready to give up his childhood and a parent who is perfectly happy with it because she doesn't want to give up her little boy.  Her children are no longer little kids, and that is scary for her.  

In my case, I was reluctant to give up diapers in the first place and wanted to be put back in diapers from a young age, but that interest waned in my elementary school years.   I don't remember it being super strong when I was between 8 and 11, but it started to resurface when I was 12.  That's when I started to consider wetting the bed again, and I think I dribbled in bed.

I honestly don't know how my mom would have reacted had I begun to have accidents.  I know that I'd see a doctor.  Also, how should you deal with an older child who is prone to accidents on a long trip?   Practicality would suggest going back to diapers, and I would have thrown just enough of a fit that it would hide my real desire.