    Diapered Max

    Summary: Max is a young boy age of six who has never been broken of the
    habit of wetting at night. While wetting is a regular issue for him his
    'adventure' with diapers start when he falls asleep during a Sunday
    Service and wets his pants at Church.

    Intro:

    His father without clear motives as to why decides it's time for Max to
    be put back into diapers. Max of course isn't too happy about the idea
    at first but slowly he becomes comfortable with wearing diapers fully
    time and even grows to enjoy wearing them.

    The story is written from Max's point of view in a sort of journal
    form. It moves along at a fairly quick pace that should be enjoyable to
    read from start to finish without the need to skip ahead to "the good
    parts".

    Part 1:

    This story is a story about how I believe I fell in love with wearing
    diapers.

    I was always a bed-wetter, my mother would often say, "[I] was only
    half potty trained," and that I had not control at night.

    When I was younger from birth to five, (I don't really recall before
    five years old and I hardly recall being five.) I would wet the bed
    almost every other night. My mother said she expected me to grow out of
    it and so never worried about my wetting until I was almost five. Back
    in those days was diapered every night. It wasn't until about mid-way
    through kindergarten that my mother began to be concerned, and asked my
    doctor about my nighttime wetting problem. The doctor told her I was
    normal and would probably grow out of it in a few years. He also
    suggested that she use rubber sheets and a bedwetting alarm instead of
    diapers to help encourage me to grow out of it more quickly. I vaguely
    remember a few nights being woken up by the annoying buzzing sound of
    the alarm and how much I hated it. I think my mother hated it, too.

    The bedwetting alarm helped a little; I still have my star charts that
    my mother used to keep track of my dry nights and looking at them I can
    see I did start to wet the bed less often after a while, but I still
    would wet about once or twice a week up until and into when I was six.

    In first grade and was a little ashamed of being a bed-wetter. Back
    then we didn't have the Internet so my parents didn't know how common
    it was and I personally felt like I was the only kid in the world with
    the problem. I never went to any sleepovers, I never had any friends
    stay the night, and I would hate it when my cousins would stay the
    night and ask me, or worse, tees me about my bed-wetting.

    The following story is how I came to love wearing diapers. The details
    are not completely clear to me, as the sands of time seem to cover over
    the memories we did not think to keep from decay. I'll tell this story
    to the best of my memory and I hope you all enjoy it for what it's
    worth.

    Chapter One: In the beginning

    My parents would attend church regularly and I of course was always had
    to go with them. My church had a Sunday school program and I would
    often go to Sunday school while my parents would stay out in the large-
    main room of the church. However Sunday school didn't start until after
    the worship service, (for those of you that don't know, the worship
    service is the singing and praising part, and then the preaching would
    start after that.) The children would go in the back classroom like
    rooms for Sunday school before the preaching would start.

    Well, sometimes during the worship service despite all the live music
    and singing I would fall asleep in the pew. One Sunday I must have been
    really tired because I feel asleep in the pew and the next thing I know
    I was feeling a groggy and being woken up by my father to go with the
    rest of the children in back to Sunday School. As I was being woke up
    my father noticed before I even did that I had wet the pew.

    My father was obviously a little upset though he didn't yell or raise
    his voice. He pointed out to my mother, whom I think already had
    noticed, I was wet and told her to take care of me. She picked me up
    and took me into the bathroom where she tried to dry me off with paper
    towels. I started crying and said I didn't want to go to Sunday school
    and she told me it was all right and that I wouldn't have to. So
    sniffling I spent the rest of church in the bathroom, my mother left
    with some paper towels to clean the pew but other then that she stayed
    with me. My pants eventually dried and we left the bathroom, but I
    didn't want to go to Sunday school or back out in the main church hall,
    so my mother and I stayed near the restrooms in the church entrance.

    After church my father showed his anger. He was really upset and my
    mother and father argued about my potty training and me. My father
    would often get angry with me and give me whipping with the belt when I
    was a kid, and I thought maybe I was going to get a whipping when we
    got home, but surprisingly he didn't seem angry with me and the
    spanking I expected never came. After church we would usually go out to
    eat at a restaurant but we went strait home that Sunday.

    When we got home my father dropped my mother and I off at the house and
    then left. I thought it was strange. My mother told me to change my
    cloths and she started to make something for Brunch. I changed my
    cloths and start playing with my G.I. Joe action figures. I don't know
    how much time had passed but my father finally came back home, and I
    thought I was going to get a whipping.

    My father came in the house and I remember hearing my mother saying,
    "Carl No!" to my father and then they started arguing. I didn't pay
    attention to what they were arguing about, I always tried to ignore it
    when they argued. Later, I saw my father walk past my bedroom going
    into his with a package of diapers in his hands. I remember feeling
    like my heart had stopped.

    A week went by and during that week I wet the bed three times, two in a
    row. I remember my father getting upset from the alarm waking him up
    and how he complained that it didn't even wake me up. My mother always
    woke me up if the alarm didn't but my father would often get out of bed
    and get a drink of water out of the kitchen after being woken up. Those
    nights my father would stop by the door of my room or the door of that
    bathroom while my mother was waking me up or taking care of me and he
    would say, "I have solution to this Mary," he'd shake his finger
    sometimes and repeat it, "I have a solution to this." Seeing the
    package of diapers earlier I could guess as well as you can what he
    meant.

    The next Sunday My father kept waking me up if I looked like I was
    going to fall asleep at while at church. He would shake my shoulder or
    my foot and tell me to wake up. I went through church and I went to
    Sunday-School class even though I really didn't want to. I was worried
    about having to explain where I was last week, even though I ended up
    never having to. It seemed no one knew what had happened the week
    before.

    Months passed I believe before it happened again, but after those
    months it did indeed happen again. My father had stopped waking me up
    every time I was about to fall asleep and it finally happened again
    that I was sleeping in church and was being awoken with soaking wet
    pants and a wet pew. My father shuck me awake and said, "That's it!" to
    me. He told my mother to take care of me and we again went to the
    bathroom and tried to dry me off and waited church service out and we
    went home.

    When we got home my father was going to spank me by my mother stopped
    him. He said I had to learn not the wet while sleeping and not to fall
    asleep during church. My mother managed to talk him out of it but he
    was very upset for the rest of the day.

    When night came bedtime when as usual, I feel asleep as usual, but in
    the middle of the night I remember being woken up and my mother and
    father were putting a diaper on me. I didn't really have a chance to
    realize what was going on until the diaper was already on. I tried to
    take it off but my father took me and placed my diapered bottom on my
    knee told me I would have to wear it until I stopped wetting the bed. I
    started crying and sobbing and was put on my bed and told to go back to
    sleep, and of course, to not take off the diaper.

    I woke up the next morning and for a moment didn't realize I was
    wearing a diaper. I was in shock then for another moment when I
    realized I was. It was dry; I had not wet the bed that night. I began
    to take it off when my father came in and asked me how I slept. I told
    him fine and then he asked me if I was wet, and I said no. He then
    said, "Good, then lets get to breakfast." I asked him if I could
    change, and he said he would change me after breakfast. I didn't catch
    his wording until after breakfast when I discovered what he meant by
    change me was that he would "change me", or change my diaper. I sat
    through breakfast feeling very embarrassed and I ate fast but my father
    wouldn't let me leave the table until everyone was finished. That
    wasn't how it normally worked, but he was making me wait for him to
    finish, I think he wanted to make me wait longer for a reason.

    So, after breakfast when he was finished and said I could go I ran into
    my bedroom and went to my dresser to get some underwear to change into,
    but when I opened the drawer up I found that all my underwear were gone
    and the whole drawer was replaced with diapers. I shouted across the
    house as children do and asked my mom where my underwear was. She
    replied in my top drawer. I shouted that they weren't when my father
    came into the room and said, "Yes they are." and then opened the top
    drawer up and pulled out a diaper.

    My jaw must have dropped. I remember my brain racing trying to think of
    something to say, trying to think of an argument, trying to think of a
    way to play dumb or something but it was obvious to me what he meant
    and I didn't want to believe it.

    My father told me to lay down on my bed and then he began to change me,
    I began to cry and he told me to stop crying like a baby or he would
    give me something to cry about. I told him I wanted to wear underwear.
    His reply way, "These are underwear, you wear them under your cloths."
    I said I wanted to wear real underwear and he replied that they were
    real. I tried to argue with him but the argument only lasted for as
    long as it took him to change my diaper. Then he told me to get dressed
    and left the room. I sat on the floor for quite a while trying to think
    of what to do. Eventually he came in and asked me if he had to dress me
    too, and then helped me get dressed. I didn't like it at all, I felt
    like I was a baby again.

    I was diapered all day every day for the whole week, needless to say I
    didn't go outside much and I didn't hang out with my friends during the
    week. I hated when we had to go groceries shopping and my father made
    me sit in the child seat on the cart and put not one but two packages
    of diapers in the cart.

    The Sunday that came next was the most embarrassing day yet.