I continued to play sports
in the hopes of winning approval from my dad, but it became a source of more
tension for me and the harder I tried the worse I got. Around the house my mom
was always around and acted as a buffer, but my dad was always angry about
something either with my mother, his business and increasingly me and how I was
disappointing him. I heard many conversations between them that my mother
needed to stop with the babying and letting me dress up like a little girl. She
stood her ground and told him that I was not like every other boy, no harm was
being done and that in her opinion I enjoyed it.
At the time I don’t know
if I enjoyed it entirely, but I did love the attention I was receiving from my
mother and I wanted to please her. For me it was an escape and it felt like I
was escaping my reality and I did like the sensations of the soft fabric and
ruffles of the dresses.
One particular Saturday
was a horrible day. I had caused our baseball team to lose a playoff baseball
game because I missed an easy catch.
After the game, my teammates made comments about “the baby not being
able to catch the ball” and that “I preferred to play with girls”. I remember
parents being upset and to make matters worse I peed my pants which caused
players to laugh, and my dad had to come down from the stands and rather than
console me I took me by the arm and marched me to the car. During the ride home he lectured me and told
me he would put an end to my bay and girlish behavior once and for all.
I started to cry, and my
dad said those famous words,
“When
we get home, I will give you something to cry about.”
When we arrived home my
mom was not home, and my dad told me to take all my clothes off and put them in
the washer. When I came back upstairs my dad was waiting for me at the top of
the stairs, he took me by the arm and marched me into my bedroom. He sat on the
bed and pulled me over his lap and without a word began to smack my bare bottom
with his hand. I let out a yelp because
I had never been spanked before and I was shocked at how much it hurt.
I was kicking, struggling,
and crying within a few smacks. I don’t remember how long the spanking was but
I doubt it was more than 25 smacks, but I do remember that it hurt so much and
he was done he told me to stand up and I put my hands on my bum because they
were burning.
He told me that he thought I was wetting on purpose to get attention and that I probably like the feeling
of wet diapers. He was going to teach me a lesson and that I would not find them as pleasant today. He left the room for a few minutes and when he returned, he put me over his lap again. I thought I would get spanked again but instead he spread my butt cheeks apart and I felt him push something against my bum. I struggled and clenched my bum tightly which earned me a smack. When he did that, I felt him push something inside my bum causing me to cry out struggle again.I had no idea what he had
pushed in but I could feel it get a little softer and being to move up. I tried
pushing it out, but he clenched my bum cheeks together and warned me not to
push it out. I recall being upset and crying but he ignored me. After a few
minutes he told me to stand up and put on 2 diapers and a pair of plastic
pants. I was very confused because I
thought he was mad that I wore diapers and now he was telling me to put them
on. I hesitated because I had never worn 2 diapers at once and was not sure how
to do it. My dad told me to lay down and he pinned on the first diaper followed
by a second and then pulled up the plastic pants.
He told me that I would
remain in my diapers until my mom returned home later in the afternoon and the
bathroom was off limits. He left and
closed the door behind him, at first, I was not sure
I told him, he shook his
head and told me that the bathroom was off limits. I started to complain, and
he told me to be quiet. When I complained again, he took me by the arm and gave
my bum a couple of swats. The thickness meant it di not hurt but the sound was
loud. He led me to my room here he had laid out one of my footed sleepers. I
was told to take my shorts and shirt off then put the sleeper on. I did as I
was told and once it was on my dad zipped it up and then put some wire through
the looks and twisted it tight.
He said to me know I could
not remove the sleeper or my diapers and I was soon going to learn what it felt
like to be a real baby. I remember
pulling on the zipper frantically and pleading with my dad to let me use the
washroom like mom did. He just shook his head and left once again closing the
door behind him.
Had already wet my diapers a couple of times
and I loved the feeling but now my stomach was starting to really gurgle and
rumble. It was only mid afternoon, and I had no idea when mom would be home. I
went looking for my dad and found him outside I the backyard I pleaded with him
that I had to go poo.
He told me to hush up
again and reminded me that if I wanted to act like a baby, I would be treated
like one and that meant messing like a baby. I started to cry, and my dad told
me to be quiet. This only made it worse, and I started crying louder so he took
me by the arm and lead me to the house. As
he was taking me up the back steps, I felt horrible cramps and I filled by
diaper with a large load of soft poop. I remember putting my hand behind me and
feeling the back of my sleeper. My dad told me to go to my room and stay there
until my mother got home.
It was a horrible feeling,
I remember standing in my room with my legs spread because of the
When I got out the bath my
mom asked me if I wanted to be rediapered or if I had had enough for now. I
told her that I still wanted to be I was not so sure that I wanted to continue
playing baseball on the team anymore.
That day was the start of
many changes at home. My dad began to “travel” more again and it was not long
after my parents separated. While the stress and anxiety at home decreased things at school became worse. The saving grace was my friendship with Erin and being able to now avoid sports and do some other new activities that suited my demeanor more.