I Warned You!

Summary: This is a true story about my mom making me wear diapers at 
the age of 9 years old because I had toileting accidents. by the way. 
this was the early 60s
story: part one

Part One

Hi, my name is John. As a 9-year-old boy, I was of average height and 
weight, muscular even then, and very good looking. (good genes) lol. 
Not bragging, just laying the foundation to the story. I mean you know. 
it "was" my passport in getting away with a lot of crap all my life. I 
was also very well mannered, that helped, too.

My downfall was a habit I had. I don’t know how it started, why or 
when. I just remember that all through my childhood I could not or 
would not stop messing my pants. It was never that I just completely 
let go in my pants, I just wouldn’t go to the bathroom to do a number 
two, until some of it had already come out in my pants. I would sit on 
the floor when as the urge got real strong and try to hold it, 
sometimes doing this a few times would prolong my having to make a trip 
to the bathroom for a couple hours. Like I said, I don’t know how or 
why I started doing this, but it was an everyday thing.

When I would have the accidents in my pants it was usually a table 
spoon in volume, roughly, to give you an idea, and fortunately I was 
never a person who had a bad odor problem; it was noticeable at best, 
never really "obvious" or overwhelming. You gotta realize I messed my 
pants every day, and only a handful of times do I ever remember hearing 
someone say, "something stinks", or even, "Did you mess your pants?" or 
something like that. Now there were those times too, like one Saturday 
morning I was watching cartoons when the urge hit to go to the 
bathroom. It came on so strong and fast I couldn’t get up off the 
floor. I was just sitting there pushing down on the floor as hard as I 
could, trying to hold it. It was one of those urges that distorts your 
face. you know, like a grimace, or retarded smile. Then it started 
coming out uncontrollably. (which was always the case) before I would 
take my ass to the bathroom. But this time it was more like a third of 
a cup in volume, which is a lot of crap in your pants when you’re 9 
years old. That’s when my mom would catch me. Otherwise I only heard 
about my dirty underwear when she did the laundry. But this Saturday 
morning she caught me. She walked by me, sniffing.

"John, did you mess your pants?"

“Nooo,” I answered.

“Get up,” she ordered. As I stood up she grabbed my arm, turned me 
around, bent over, and sniffed again.

"You did!" she said in an upset tone. "You get yourself in that 
bathroom. NOW!" So I went to the bathroom with her right behind me. She 
opened the hamper, took out a dirty towel and spread it on the floor.

"Raise your arms!"  She pulled my buttoned P.J. top up over my head and 
dropped into the corner, then pulled my P.J. bottoms down and dropped 
them into the corner of the bathroom as well. "Spread your legs a 
little," she ordered as she stuck her thumbs into the waistband of my 
underwear briefs and began to pull them down.

"Good grief, you’re a mess!" she said as she pulled my underwear down.

“You are way too old to be messing your pants like this. You should be 
ashamed of yourself"! She had me step out of my dirty underwear as I 
stood on the towel. "I swear, I’m gonna put a diaper on you if you 
don’t stop messing your pants. Now get on the toilet!”

After I finished going to the bathroom my mom would make me bend over 
while sitting on the potty and would wipe me because my butt was such a 
mess that I sometimes got it on my wrist and hand trying to clean 
myself, and making a bigger mess would really get her into a rage. 
After wiping me with toilet paper she would have me stand on the towel 
again. She would take a washcloth from the cabinet and dampen it and 
then clean my butt with that, complaining the whole time. After I was 
clean she would pick up my underwear from the towel on the floor, turn 
them inside out and hand them to me. I would have to dunk them in and 
out of the commode to get most of the stuff out before she would put 
them in the laundry. She would leave to get me a clean pair of 
underwear while I was doing this. Stay tuned for part two. Same diaper 
time. Same diaper channel. Lol.

Part Two

As I stood there naked dunking my dirty underwear in and out of the 
commode to rinse them out, my mom was down the hall in my room getting 
me a clean pair, still fussing loudly.

"I’m gonna buy some diapers for you, John, and if you don’t stop 
messing your pants, you are gonna wear a diaper, do you hear me?”

When she got back she stepped up to the commode and looked into the 
toilet saying, "hold on to them tightly now!" As I held them by the 
waistband, she flushed the commode so they could now be rinsed in 
cleaner water.

"That’s good enough for now," she said. As I raised my hand for the 
clean underwear she was holding. She grabbed me by the wrist and led me 
into the living room at a fairly fast pace. She then sat on the edge of 
the couch and before I knew it, I was over her lap. She pulled me over 
so fast. I had to catch myself with both hands against the floor, just 
to keep my head from hitting. With her left hand on my back and her 
right hand on my butt, she asks, "Now John, why did you lie to me when 
I asked you if you messed your pants?"

"I don’t know." That was my standard answer to just about question 
about any of my behavior problems at the time. Then the spanking 
started. with a hard smack on my butt between every word.

"You. *SMACK*. Will. *SMACK*. Not. *SMACK*. Lie. *SMACK*. To. *SMACK*. 
Me! Do you understand me, John?" she asked as my legs were flailing 
about wildly in the air.

"Yes, I promise I wont lie anymore!" I answered, but with my butt high 
up on her lap. my feet off the floor, the spanking went on. Bracing 
myself against the floor with both hands, I couldn’t raise a hand to 
defend my butt against this painful, painful, spanking. Finally it was 
over.

She helped me to my feet and then held my underwear out for me to step 
into them.

"Now John, listen to me," she said as I stepped into my underwear and 
she began pulling them up. "Next week we will be moving in with Frank 
and the girls and I know you don’t want them to know that you still 
mess your pants. and I (KNOW) you don’t want me to put a diaper on you 
and have everyone laughing at you for wearing a diaper at 9 years 
old!... DO you?”

"No!" I answered.

"Well then. I’d suggest you stop doing this right now, okay? This is a 
chance to start over, a new family, a new school, everything. I want 
today to be the last time that you do this, do you understand?"

"Yes, mom," I answered.

Part Three

>>Fast forwarding now.>> My mom remarried after the school year ended 
and we moved in with Frank, my new step dad, and his two daughters-- 
Beth, 12 years old, and Tina, 10 years old.

I had met them before and spent time with on several occasions before 
the wedding and the move-in. We got along great back then, but that's 
because at the time the girls hadn’t thought about nor did I know that 
I would have to have one of the bedrooms in their three-bedroom-house, 
putting the girls in one bedroom together. They were furious about it 
and it became a source of tension between them and myself.

Now with the girls bitter about being put together in one room and my 
toileting "accidents". now common knowledge in the household because 
they never stopped, the girls, especially the oldest one Beth would use 
every opportunity to humiliate me, saying things like, "your momma 
needs to put a diaper on you!" Which she got from her dad Frank, he was 
the worst. I hated him. He would tell my mom things like, "I’ll bet you 
if I whipped his ass he would stop shitting his pants!" But mostly he 
told her that if I had to wear diapers for awhile I would stop it.

Anyway, one of my favorite places to go at that time was to a friend of 
my mom’s named Juanita. She lived in yet another town not too far away 
and we often went there on the weekends. The three towns I’ve mentioned 
in this story are satellite communities each outside of a major 
metropolitan city. The adults were all friends that lived in that city 
when they were kids. But Juanita’s was a fun place to go to. I had a 
lot of friends there my age to play with. She also had a playground in 
her backyard that was unbelievable at that time. And I spent a lot of 
time in her yard before I met the neighborhood kids. Then we would roam 
the whole neighborhood and wooded area playing army. I met all the guys 
through a girl named Naomi. She was my age (9). and was so cute, a 
beautiful smile and she was crazy about me. She was also a terrible 
tomboy and not afraid to get dirty or get hurt. She played army with 
all the guys she introduced me to and was accepted pretty much as one 
of the guys. But to me, well, I had a crush on her and she on me. She 
also had a huge tree in her yard, a tree house about 25 feet up and a 
thick rope with a stick of wood through it that you could swing clear 
across the yard on.

One time, we climbed up into the treehouse together. After a minute or 
two she said, "Something stinks," and raised her foot to check the 
bottom of her shoe for dog poop. Then she checked her other shoe. So I 
did the same thing. We didn’t see anything on our shoes. Then she 
looked at me with this sweet innocent blushing smile on her face and 
asked, "Did you mess your pants?"

"No!" I replied, though I did have a small amount in my pants as 
always. Then it was forgotten and we played. She was one of the few I 
mentioned at the beginning of the story that I remember and I’ll never 
forget her or that look. You know, when you see shows like “Leave It to 
Beaver” and it shows boys despising little girls. I never got that. I 
always liked them and they always liked me. Forgive me, but in my haste 
to talk about Naomi, I failed to mention that she lived three houses 
down from my mom’s friend Juanita.

Now getting back to Juanita. She was a large boisterous woman with a 
big laugh. She could be heard for a block. Okay, I might be 
exaggerating, but back then few people had air conditioning. They used 
fans and left the windows open. Or at least that was my world. She was 
married to a man who I had never met. I think he might have been a 
truck driver or something. I don’t know. She, on the other hand, was 
running a day care center you could say, before the term even existed, 
or at least I never heard the term until I was much older. She had kids 
of all ages staying there at different times. But like I said we always 
went there on the weekends if we went at all. But this time we went on 
a weekday. That would be a life-changing event for me.

Part Four

I think it was on a Monday this time that we went to Juanita’s house. 
As Juanita greeted us at the door and we walked in, everyone I think 
was kind of caught off guard as we encountered this Hispanic boy my 
height standing in the middle of the room in nothing but a thick white 
cotton flannel diaper. Juanita introduced him to us saying, "this is 
Rudy". My mom put her hand out to shake hands with him, saying "Hi, 
Rudy," but he didn’t respond. He just stood there with his hands up in 
front of his face playing with his fingers and mumbling. Juanita 
explained that he was mentally retarded and autistic and couldn’t 
speak. Then my mom, I guess to break the silence said, "Well, maybe I 
could get some of those diapers for John!" Then everyone laughed. I was 
so embarrassed and humiliated, and Juanita laughed loudest of all. I 
was so hurt. She had always been so nice to me, like a second mom. Then 
Juanita said. "No. Now, I know John isn’t gonna need to wear diapers, 
are you, John"?

“Nooo!” I said my face red and my head bowed. Then Juanita said, "You 
know, Rudy is 9 years old also, but he has to wear diapers because he 
can’t help going to the bathroom in his pants," she continued. "I’ve 
been working with him and trying to toilet train him for a couple 
years. but I don’t know if he will ever learn to go to the bathroom on 
his own."

Then Beth asked, "Does he have to go out like that? In just a diaper?"

"No," Juanita replied. “I have clothes for him to go out in. but around 
the house it just means more laundry to do. His shirt gets wet. His 
pants get wet, so I just let him wear a diaper." I think I was just 
holding my breath through this whole ordeal. I felt like I was gonna 
pass out if I didn’t get out of there.

"I’m going to Naomi’s," I said, headed for the backdoor.

"Whoa! Hold on, John!" my mom ordered. I stopped as I was headed for 
the kitchen which led to the backdoor.

"I want you to get a good look at Rudy, John," she said with a calm 
voice. "That’s what you are gonna look like if you don’t stop messing 
your pants!"

"Mommmmmm!" I said.

"I’m gonna get Juanita to make some of those diapers to take home with 
us today. Do you understand?"

"Yes," I answered. Then I turned and ran to get out of there.

I went to naomis and we got a bunch of kids together and played army 
for several hours. I was so glad to see her and we had so much fun that 
I forgot all about the humiliating time I had at Juanita’s. When I 
heard my mom calling me that it was time to go. I had such a sad 
feeling come over me. I knew it may be a week or longer before I saw 
Naomi again.

When I got back to Juanita’s my mom started in on me again. "See what I 
have here, John?" It looked like a big canvass suitcase to me. I said, 
"What?"

"Juanita gave me one of her old diaper bags, I’ve got powder, baby oil, 
diapers, pins, some old bottles and a couple of pacifiers," she said, 
showing me some of the stuff.

"Oh honey," Juanita said to my Mom. "I know John’s not gonna need any 
of that stuff. You aren’t gonna mess your pants anymore are you, John?"

"No"! I said totally embarrassed.

"Why of course you’re not, you are much too old to wear a diaper." With 
that, everyone said bye and hugged and we went home.

Part Five

Well, needless to say nothing changed over the next couple days, more 
accidents, more complaining from my mom as she found my dirty underwear 
in the laundry with varying degrees of mess in them, though nothing 
substantial in them, really. But my mom expected and demanded to find 
nothing. She would try to keep Frank and the girls from knowing 
anything just to keep peace in the house. But that was all about to 
come to an end.

One morning me and the girls were watching TV. Frank was sitting in his 
recliner reading the paper and my mom was sitting at the dining room 
table with the girls’ Aunt Suzy (Frank’s sister). I was lying on my 
tummy watching TV when I got the urge to go to the bathroom. I was 
holding it until it got stronger. Then I got up off my tummy and sat on 
the floor. This made it much easier to hold it in. Then the urge got 
stronger and stronger. I thought to myself, "please, don’t let me make 
a big mess." But it was already coming out a little. I just knew if I 
got up right then it would all come out. So I tried and tried to hold 
it. Again, it was one of those strong, powerful urges that distorts 
your face; you can’t help it. I didn’t know Frank was looking at me at 
the time.

"John, what are you doing?" he demanded to know.

"Watching TV," I answered, scared to death.

"What’s going on, Frank?" my mom asked from the next room.

"I think John’s sitting there crapping his pants right now," Frank 
answered. My mom came in there right away and asked, "John, did you 
mess your pants again?”

“I smell it," said Beth.

"Me, too," said Tina.

I was still trying to hold this urge when my mom took my arm and pulled 
me up off the floor. As she stood me up the whole bowel movement I was 
trying to hold went into my underwear. She pulled my P.J.’s down right 
there to see my underwear.

"Good grief, John," she said as she saw the huge load sagging in my 
underwear. Beth and Tina just went "EWWWWWWWW"!

"John, you ought to be ashamed of yourself, why didn’t you get in the 
bathroom?”

"I don’t know," I responded.

"John, no one has been in there for some time. Why did you just sit 
there and mess your pants?"

"I don’t know," I said again, and I really didn’t, either. I don’t know 
this habit came about.

"Make him wear those diapers for awhile, honey; that will break him of 
that"!

"Uh-huh, and who’s gonna change him, Frank, YOU?"

"Look, if you wanna put up with this until he’s in high school go 
ahead, I don’t care. You’re wiping his ass just about everyday, 
anyway!"

Then my mom hollered, "John, get in the bathroom"! She got a dirty 
towel from the hamper and had me stand on it as she was pulling my 
underwear down.

Frank hollered," I wouldn’t worry about it, honey, maybe one day he 
will meet a nice girl who shits her pants!"

"FRANK, don’t talk like that!" my mom yelled back.

"He’s right, you know, John. You are not gonna stop doing this until I 
put a diaper on you."

"No, mom, I promise I’ll never do it again!"

"Do you know how pathetic you looked walking to the bathroom with your 
underwear full of crap swinging back and forth? There’s no excuse for a 
healthy 9-year-old boy like you to be doing this. You’re gonna wear a 
diaper!”

"No, mom, please, I promise I’ll never mess my pants again!" As I 
stepped out of my underwear she said, "Now you get up there on that 
commode until I get back." I could hear her in my room slamming drawers 
and so on. Then I heard her ask Aunt Suzy to come help her. They were 
talking but I couldn’t make anything out except the word 
“refrigerator”. When my mom got back she cleaned me up. I saw Beth and 
Tina looking in occasionally, then disappearing again as I looked up. 
My mom took a pile of washcloths from the cabinet and dampened them in 
the sink. Just then Aunt Suzy came into the bathroom.

"Stand up!" my mom said. As I stood up my mom took one hand and Aunt 
Suzy took the other. Then they started to lead me out of the bathroom. 
I tried digging my feet into the floor once I realized what was going 
on. My mom turned and said in a very angry voice.

"Don’t you dare fight with me; you’re already in big trouble, John. 
Don’t make it worse for yourself!"

"I don’t want everyone to see me like this!" I cried. Still, with my 
hands held above my head, they marched me into the living room totally 
naked. I could feel my butt cheeks sticking together a little as I was 
rushed along at this quick pace. MY mom just wiped me with toilet paper 
enough so that I didn’t drop anything on the way to the living room. 
The girls laughed at me, pointing at my weenie jiggling as we 
approached the couch.

"Now, John, I want you to get up there and lay down on that newspaper!"

"No, mom, please, I wont do it anymore!"

Then Frank got up and came over.

"You do what your mother tells you to do, or I’ll spank you myself!" 
Scared to death of Frank, I sat on the newspapers that were spread on 
the couch.

"Now turn around and lay down!" my mom ordered. So I did, bawling the 
whole time. Holding my privates with both hands, I lay back on the 
couch. As I did a part of the newspaper stuck to my butt and rolled up 
with me.

"Good grief, John, you’re disgusting!" she said as she pulled the paper 
from my butt.

"Now, John, you’re gonna have to move your hands; I can’t clean you up 
or put a diaper on you with your hands in the way. I was crying so hard 
I could hardly see through the tears. "Mom please make the girls go 
away," I begged.

"John, how about you worry about you and not everyone else," my mom 
answered.

"But I don’t want them looking at me like this, and make them stop 
laughing at me."

"Move your hands or I’ll call Frank over here," mom said. Reluctantly I 
moved my hands, exposing my little peepee and balls.

"I see your pee-pee! I see your pee-pee!” the girls chanted.

"Now, girls, that’s not necessary," Aunt Suzy said with a laugh.

"Now spread your legs so I can get you cleaned up," mom said. "I guess 
if you’re gonna mess your pants like a baby then we will have to clean 
you up like a baby."

As I spread my knees apart, mom took one of the wet washcloths and 
started washing my pubic area, pulling up on my little penis and nut 
sack with the rag as she cleaned me.