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Title: | I'm in Trouble- Again
Name: | Matthew
Email: | diapersrule393@aim.com
Gender: | Male
Current Age: | 15
Posting Date: | 08/31/08
Story Contents: |
A- Post-toddler (4-8) |  | R- Sisters, other girls |
B- Pre-teen (9-12) | ● | S- Babysitters | ●
C- Teen (13-17) |  | T- Masturbation | ●
D- Adult (18+) |  | U- Sexual situations | ●
E- Cloth diapers | ● | V- Gay |
F- Disposable diapers | ● | W- Erections | ●
G- Pee | ● | X- Bedwetting |
H- Poop | ● | Y- Accidents |
I- Exposed diapers | ● | Z- Punishment/Diaper Discipline | ●
J- Multiple diapers | ● | 1- Female Domination |
K- Baby paraphernalia | ● | 2- Enemas | ●
L- Mother | ● | 3- Restraints |
M- Father |  | 4- Crying | ●
N- Aunt |  | 5- Spanking | ●
O- Uncle |  | 6- Humiliation | ●
P- Brothers (diapered) |  | 7- Babying | ●
Q- Brothers (not diapered) |  | 8- Regression | ●
Summary: | A 5th grader named Matthew has just gotten into trouble. But that's not uncommon, except this time he's gone too far, and his diaper time has been extended into a weekend with his 9th grade neighbor.

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    I’m in trouble. Again. But that’s nothing new, I’ve always been in
    trouble. Except this time, I think I went too far. This time, I poured
    house paint all over my neighbor’s car. I didn’t give my mom a straight
    answer, mostly because I didn’t have one. I saw the paint, saw the car,
    and the two went together.

    Except now, my neighbor, Mr. and Mrs. Ferrara, are pretty mad and are
    complaining officially. Great, I guess I’m pretty much dead.

    I’ve been in trouble before, and usually that just means like, a week
    in diapers. Some people see this as a weird form of punishment (myself
    included), but one day my mom was talking to one of her friends at work
    and she said it works wonders for her -- so mom decided that she’d try
    it out. That was 3 years ago, in the 2nd Grade. I remember the first
    time that I flooded the bathroom where it didn’t end up with a slap
    upside my head or going to bed without dinner – but instead a calm, yet
    forceful shove onto my bed, which ended with even more crying than what
    would’ve happened if I had have gone to bed without dinner. Why?
    Because, of course, I had just been stripped of my clothing and
    diapered up like a preschooler, and being told that I’d be one for the
    next week.

    This became my mom’s favorite form of punishment – because it meant
    little to no physical infliction on me, and it was so easy to carry out
    a big form of discipline. I absolutely couldn’t stand it! But that
    didn’t keep me from being in and out of trouble all the time.

    When I was in Kindergarten, my teacher noticed that I wasn’t like other
    kids. Soon after, it would be that I had a mild case of Autism, and a
    bad case of ADHD to go with that. I had been placed into a school where
    it was going to be easier for me to learn – which also made it easier
    for me to get into trouble.

    So here I was, lying in bed as mom dealt with the neighbors. I dreaded
    the sound of her walking up the stairs. So before her conversation
    ended, I went into my drawers and tried to put all my diapers under my
    socks, trying to hide them so maybe that she wouldn’t think about using
    diapers as my punishment. Yeah, that didn’t work.

    She came upstairs with a disappointed expression on her face.

    “Seriously, Matthew? Pulling a stunt like that?” She exclaimed.

    I didn’t have an answer, again, so I just stared back in fear of the
    words that were going to come next.

    “Well, I’m certainly not going to cancel my own plans to visit Aunt
    Shane down in Virginia with your other cousins and their family, and
    obviously you’ve shown that you can’t behave enough to come. So, Mrs.
    Ferrara’s daughter Rachael is going to watch you for the weekend. And
    you bet that you’ll be in diapers, little boy. And that’s not gonna
    end, at least for a while. I’m thinking at least 6 months for a stunt
    like that!”

    I started to whine.

    “Nooo!! You can’t go without me! I’m already packed!! 6 months?!?!
    Please no!! And Rachael’s not even in 10th grade yet, she can’t stay
    with me!! Wait, if I’m diapers, who’s going to take care of me??
    Her?!?! Noo! Please!!”

    Mom just started to unpack my bags and pay no attention to my whining.
    It was a kick in the gut to see all my hard packing to be quickly
    undone like that. She then left the room and shut the lights.

    “I’ll be back in a little bit to get you settled for bed.” She said. It
    was 6:49PM.

    She came back 15 minutes later with the usual stuff. Diapers, my
    ‘special’ pajamas (which were called footed sleepers) with green
    puppies on them, the pacifier, and the awful ‘poopers’. The ‘poopers’
    are technically called Suppositories and Enemas. She just called them
    the ‘poopers’ because that’s essentially what they are. I was scared to
    see the big metal piece of the second pooper (the Enema) – as she only
    had brought this out when I did things really bad, which has only been
    4 times before.

    She began the routine of first stripping me of all my clothes – I
    wasn’t allowed to do it myself. After, she put the changing towel over
    my bed and gestured for me to lay down. As I did, she put the pacifier
    in my mouth. Now, usually I hate the pacifier, but I’ve learned to deal
    with it, especially not to provoke any more punishment. She slid the
    extra-thick disposable, plastic-backed diaper under me (which were
    specially made by my mom’s cousin, who works for Pampers product
    testing) and sprinkled powder on me, rubbed it in, lotioned my bottom,
    crotch and penis. Puberty was still a bit away, so there wasn’t really
    any obstruction for the diaper to encounter. She taped up the diaper,
    and stood my up on my feet. She unzipped the ‘special’ jammies from the
    back and slid them over me. She turned me around and zipped the zipper
    up to the back of my neck. After, she took a pacifier ribbon and
    fastened it to the neck of my jammies.

    I started to turn bright red. Getting the punishment started was always
    the worst part of it. It made me feel so helpless, so unable to care
    for myself, and left without any control over myself. As usual, I
    started to cry. Mom usually ignored this. She kissed my cheek, and put
    my blanket over me. She lifted up the wooden railing on the side of my
    bed, and said good night, and that she loved me. She turned off the
    light – 7:23PM.

    I cried for an hour. I was so sad. So angry. I couldn’t believe I was
    so stupid to do that, now I just made myself miserable. The clock said
    9:18 before I actually cried myself to sleep.

    I woke up at 8:12. I sat there for 15 minutes before mom finally came
    in.

    “Good Morning” she said, in a semi-happy mood. She took down the
    railing and rolled me over. “So, do you think you wet or messed your
    diapers last night? I didn’t give you any poopers” she asked.

    “No...” I said in a sheepish tone.

    “Well, can you do one or the other, or both before I change you? I
    don’t want these diapers to go to waste. Besides, I saved you from the
    poopers, right? So as part of the punishment, I want you to do
    something in those diapers before I change you.” She explained.

    “But I cant...” I whined.

    “Oh yes you can! If you want to get of bed, you will!”

    After 10 minutes of “C’mon, let’s go now...” and “anything yet?” mom
    finally took some action. She sat me up, and told me to get on my hands
    and knees. As I did, the jammies got a little tight on the part that
    goes around my feet – the must be a little tight from the really large
    diaper. She told me that this position should make it easier. She
    started to make little grabbing motions on my stomach to try to get
    something flowing from my abdomen. It sent a funny feeling to my lower
    tummy. Suddenly I felt like I was going to explode with poop and pee.
    She continued to make the motions, and suddenly I just burst with poop.
    It made a soft, smushy, warm mess at the back of my diaper. I started
    to cry as I felt so ashamed of what I just did. As I was softly crying,
    I started to flow with pee too, as mom was still making some less-
    strong motions on my stomach. After about 30 seconds, she stopped. She
    kissed my cheek, and said “That’a boy.”

    I knew she was going to make sure I had to go through staying in my
    soiled diaper for a few minutes. She picked my up by my underarms,
    which brought me to a standup position on my bed. She unzipped the
    jammies from behind me and took them off. Now I was just in my huge,
    soiled and wet diaper. Mom looked over my body and said “See, you’re so
    nice when you’re my little baby Matthew again!”

    She put down a changing mat on my bed and pulled me down. It made me
    come down to a sitting position hard and fast, smushing around the poop
    in my diaper. She pushed my chest down, and I began to cry some more.
    Mom then untaped my diaper, but didn’t uncover it. She lifted my legs
    up and bent them at the knee, just like a little 4 year old. She then
    took the rear of the diaper and smushed it against my bum. It was still
    warm, and smushy. She smushed it around for a good 10 seconds then
    pulled the diaper down and performed a good cleanup. She put me into
    another diaper, lotioned and powdered me up, then put me into my ‘play
    shorts’ and a small, white tee shirt that was a bit too short. She took
    me by the hand, and we went downstairs into the kitchen.

    I was still crying.

    TO BE CONTINUED.

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