So many people sharing their stories and I figured I would toss my own into the ring. My name is David and I was born in 1966. Growing up I had a problem with wetting the bed until I was ten. My mom made me wear cloth diapers and rubber pants to bed, but it was very much our secret. When the wetting stop, she boxed up everything and put it away in the back of the attic.
As everyone knows, puberty leads to a lot of sexual thoughts and exploration. When I was 13, my mom walked in on me masturbating in the bathroom and she flipped out. She took me to church that afternoon and made me pray for forgiveness. She insisted that masturbating would stain my soul and I would go to hell if I didn’t repent.
A few weeks later, she caught me again. This time I was in my room and it was the middle of the night, but apparently she could hear me breathing heavy and came to investigate. That time I got spanked with my dad’s belt and she took me to church again the following day.
I got better at hiding it, but masturbating felt way too good to stop. Only a week later, she discovered a telltale stain in my boxers and was absolutely livid. She beat me with a wooden spoon until my ass was bruised and I was bawling my eyes out. After making me stand in the corner, she went to the attic and dug out the box of old diapers.
She just made repeated comments about how only babies can’t control themselves as she stacked several of the diapers on the floor and dragged me over to sit on the pile. I managed to get a simple “Please don’t…” before she slapped me hard across the face. One by one, she pulled the diapers around my waist and pinned the four diapers tight. After struggling to pull a pair of the rubber pants over the thick diaper, she had to remove one of the diapers to fit them.
I was told to put my shoes on and then she pulled me out the door by my ear when I tried to refuse to leave the house. I was literally wearing only a button up shirt, diapers, rubber pants, socks and shoes. She twisted my ear hard for about half a block as we headed toward the church, which was about half a mile away.
As we walked, every kid in the neighborhood that saw me started laughing and calling me names. The diaper was thick enough that I had a weird waddling walk as I trudged along beside my mother. I was still bawling by the time we got to the church. Mom made me stand at the front of the church and pray while she went to talk to one of the nuns.
They were gone for probably about an hour and I just stood there silently as people tried hard not to laugh at me in church. When she came back, she told me that I was going to stay at the church and help with some work that needed done. Mom left and I stayed at the church for several hours wiping down pews, stacking bibles and sweeping floors. The entire time with my thick diaper on display for everyone to see. The nun that was in charge of me would make me pause every half hour or so to pray for humility.
At the end of the day, another nun walked me home. My bladder was full, but I refused to pee in the diaper and suffer even more humiliation. However, I had sweated profusely throughout the day and the rubber pants had trapped it all inside. Mom was convinced that I had wet myself and insisted that I wear the diaper to bed. Shortly after dinner, the pressure in my bladder got the best of me and I went ahead and peed.
That night, I heard my parents arguing about my punishment. My dad was more worried about being teased by the other fathers than the humiliation I had endured. Mom insisted that I needed to learn a lesson, but agreed to let me off the next day. The following morning she removed the diaper and warned me about the dangers of masturbation.
After that, I still got teased by the neighborhood kids constantly. For some reason, though, it started to excite me and I began to fantasize about it happening again. A few months went by before my desires became too strong and I accidentally ejaculated in my boxers while fantasizing. The problem was, as soon as I orgasmed, the desire to be humiliated in diapers disappeared and I began to freak out. Being young, I did the dumbest thing and hid the underwear under my mattress instead of cleaning them out and letting them dry.
The next day, Mom found the stained underwear and out came the diapers again. Once again, it was thick diapers and a humiliating walk to church. This time, however, she kept me in diapers for a whole week. She would take them off in the morning so I could shower and use the toilet, but this meant I had several wet diapers during my punishment. At one point, I almost messed the diaper, but thankfully she removed the diaper in the evening time to allow me to use the toilet.
By the time I went off to college, I had been diaper punished six times. I was the butt of neighborhood jokes for years after I moved away. These days, I’m almost 51 and I have a wonderful wife that loves diapers as well. We’ve been together for almost 20 years and I couldn’t be happier.