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This story is mostly true and based on an important event in my childhood.

Part 1

My story begins when I was 11. I had a severe ear infection and the doctor decided I needed to have a mastoidectomy (a type of surgery) to remove the infection. A few months earlier I suddenly got curious about wearing diapers. I remember Gumby cartoons where Gumby went through a machine that turned him into a baby. I remember a couple other cartoons with similar themes. For some reason they stuck in my head.

Our babysitter was a nice lady who had eight kids. The oldest were my age, but the youngest was only a year old. I think the younger boys still wore diapers at night, but nobody talked about it. One day I decided to sneak some diapers out of the babysitter’s house. Everyone else was in the living room watching TV so I went into the bedroom where the diapers were kept, pulled out several, and walked into the bathroom. There I stuffed the diapers in my pant legs and shirt in the most inconspicuous way I could. Then I walked into the living room and told the babysitter I was going home to play in my fort ( I lived only two doors down.)

When I got to the fort and pulled the diapers out I started to get a rush. I didn’t know what it was, but I think it was the first time in my life that I felt I was on a great adventure. I laid the cloth diapers out in several layers on a bench and then folded them properly. I dropped my pants and underwear and got up on the bench and sat on the diapers. It was at that point that I realized I didn’t get any diaper pins. But aside from being a little disappointed, I wrapped the cloth diapers around properly and then pulled my underwear up to hold them into place.

The physical sensations were absolutely exciting, pleasurable, and comfortable. I couldn’t have imagined that such a sensation ever could exist. I don’t remember having an erection at that time as I didn’t know what an erection was. All I knew was that for the first time in my life I was truly satisfied. I laid there for about an hour reflecting on my good fortune when I started to get up so I could go in the house and go pee. Then it occurred to me that babies pee in their diapers, so I thought I might try it.

At first it was hard to get the pee to come out. There’s something about years of being potty trained that the body finds it difficult to untrain. After lifting my butt in the air while still laying prone on my back, I was able to let a little out. The warm wet feeling only made me that much more comfortable, to my surprise. After reflecting on the comfort of the warm wet feeling, my sphincter muscle finally let go and I flooded the diaper. I remember looking on as a wet spot formed over where it soaked through, then the wet spot got bigger and yellow.

I started to panic, wondering what I would do with the wet underwear. But I decided I would deal with that later. After a while, my mom got home from work so I took the diaper and wet underwear off and stuffed them behind the ivy in the fence, and forgot all about them.

So several months later, just a few days prior to going to the hospital I was told to drink lots of milk and eat ice cream. I also had to take some medicine.

Two nights before going to the hospital I wet the bed. I hadn’t wet the bed but just a couple times since I was about five. I didn’t think anything about it. I had completely forgotten about my diaper adventure earlier. My mom looked concern when I pointed out the bed was wet, but she didn’t complain. I had to strip the sheets, open the windows to air out the bed, and later make the bed over myself.

That afternoon, after school, the kids from the neighborhood would get together to play tag football in the street. We always were playing games like hide and seek, tag, tag football, riding bikes, playing with GI Joes, and jumping off the roofs of our houses. We had a great time. But that afternoon while playing tag football I suddenly got the urge to go pee. Normally I could hold it until the end of the game and go later. Well, I held it, but not for long. Patrick was getting ready to hike the ball when he noticed my pants were suddenly getting wet. I looked at Patrick, looked down at my pants, looked at Patrick again, and ran for the house. Patrick had strict parents and wasn’t quick to make fun of people who weren’t feeling well. He also knew about my ear infection and upcoming surgery.

I ran into the house, finished going pee, changed by pants, and went back out to play. Patrick was concerned but I just laughed it off and we went back to playing tag football.

When my mom got home from work she asked why my pants were wet. I told her and she gave me that concerned look again. And I went off to do my homework and watch cartoons.

The next morning I woke up to a wet bed again. I remember thinking it was odd that I would suddenly wet the bed and do it two nights in a row. I had already forgotten about wetting my pants the day before. When mom came in and saw the bed, she said, “David, if you end up having to wear diapers I’m going to have to put you in a nursing home when you get out of the hospital.” I was caught completely off-guard by the comment. I looked at her and just wondered what might make her say something like that. I then turned around and stripped the bed and didn’t give it another thought.

Later that morning I got some toys and a change of clothes to take with me to the hospital. Nobody told me just how serious the operation was. In fact, I wasn’t told anything about any of what was going to happen to me. My whole situation was being arranged by my parents and doctors. I only saw the doctors for a few minutes at a time as they went whizzing through the examination room.

When we got to the hospital my mom, step-dad, younger sister and I went up to check out the room. The first comment my stepfather made was, “look at that stack of diapers by the bed, David. They’re for you.” It did look like a stack of diapers, but I figured he was kidding as he often did and that they were really towels for cleaning up spills and stuff. Nobody said anything to me about wearing diapers, other than my mother’s quick comment earlier. I still didn’t believe they would make me wear diapers being 11 years old.

The nurse told me to go into the bathroom and change into a gown. My stepfather and sister went out to the waiting room. When I stepped into the bathroom my mother told me I should come out with just the hospital gown and no underwear on. I thought that was a bit strange and suddenly felt a tinge of fear that someone was going to see me naked. But I did what was asked and came out with just the gown on, and a pile of clothes in my hands.

I asked whether I was going to be naked for my stay here and the nurse said, “no, you’ll be wearing hospital clothes while you’re here.” I felt relieved. After taking a urine sample, checking my pulse, and putting a stethoscope up to my chest, I was asked to get on the bed. My mother was next to me and held my hand. At first I thought she was feeling fear about the operation and my safety. Then the nurse grabbed one of those “towels” from the stand by my bed and placed it between my ankles. Then she lifted the gown, which I quickly pushed back down and asked what she was doing.

We’re getting you dressed for your stay here, David. I still didn’t get it. She lifted the gown again, rolled me on my side, and slid the “towel” down under my butt. I was really confused. What did they need a towel under my butt for? Then she pulled one end of the towel up between my legs and used diaper pins to fasten them around my waist. It was only at that time that I realized I was actually having a diaper put on me. I was in a state of shock. I trusted the nurse and my mother, and they went and put a diaper on me. Then the nurse pulled out a pair of plastic pants and slipped them up over the diaper.

Suddenly I remembered my diaper adventure a few months earlier. I remembered the pleasure and sensation. A big smile suddenly came across my face as I realized that someone else had put a diaper on me and I didn’t even ask for it. The nurse and my mom were now the ones who were surprised. They expected a fight, now that I look back. They certainly didn’t expect me to cooperate. The nurse called to a couple of orderlies who were standing outside the door and that I didn’t notice until then, and told them everything was fine, and they left.

My mom then told me that I would be wearing diapers in the hospital because I had been wetting my bed and my pants for the past couple days. She pointed out to me that there were straps on the bed for tying me down if I didn’t cooperate. But if I cooperated, I wouldn’t have to be tied down. I smiled at her and told her I have no problems wearing the diapers. “They’re just for the hospital stay,” I said, “and I wouldn’t want to be wetting their bed any more than they want me to wet it.” I didn’t expect that I was going wet the diapers either, as it was just inconceivable to me. I would wet them if they were my diapers. That’s one thing, but someone else’s, no way.

My mom stayed for a couple more hours but eventually had to leave because my sister was getting restless. I told her I was fine, and off she went. The nurse came in and asked me if I was thirsty. I was, so she brought me a huge glass of ginger ale with a straw. I found a TV show to watch, and spent a couple hours watching TV and sipping on several glasses of ginger ale. I don’t remember what was on TV, because I was too busy thinking how happy I was to be wearing a diaper and for the nurse to put it on me. It was in the middle of the day, but sitting still and watching TV from a reclining position put me to sleep for about two hours.

When I woke up I had to go pee very bad. I could never remember my bladder being so full. But by then I had an IV in my arm and couldn’t get up. I pressed the button for the nurse and she came right in. In an urgent voice I told her I had to go to the bathroom. She walked over to get the IV out of my arm, but it was too late. I let go and peed for what seemed minutes. At first I forgot I had the diaper on, which was why I was panicking. But then the diaper started getting wet and warm.

I was filled with all kinds of emotions at once. I was panicked from being in a strange place and having to go to the bathroom real bad. I was suddenly remembering the joy of wearing diapers. I was feeling wet and guilty for wetting in the hospitals clothes. And I was feeling relieved in my bladder and wondering when it was going to stop. Fortunately the nurse understood. She didn’t take the IV out, but put her hand on my shoulder and said, “It’s OK. You’re not the first 11 year old boy to wet in a diaper.” Thank God she said that. That took away the guilt. The diaper took away my filled bladder. And I was left feeling happy that I had wet my first diaper without having any control over it.

Soon other nurses came in, my gown went up, the plastic pants went down, the pins came off, and a really soggy diaper was hauled away. One nurse reached over to my diaper stack, shoved a clean diaper under my butt, spread some kind of cream around my "peepee" and on the side of my legs, sprinkled some scented powder in the same area, and then quickly brought the diaper up and pinned it into place. Up came the plastic pants, and down went my gown. The whole procedure took less than a few minutes. The nurses really had their practice, and from that I gathered I wasn’t the only person in the hospital wearing diapers.

Later on my mother came back to visit. Apparently the nurse had told her about my diaper wetting. Mom came to the side of the bed and held my hand and said, “I hope you understand this is for your own good.” I then reminded her of what she said about putting me in a nursing home if I had to wear diapers. I told her that I don’t mind wearing diapers, but I don’t want to go to a nursing home. I would never forgive her if she sent me there. My mom apparently changed her view since earlier that morning. She told me that she wouldn’t send me to a nursing home and that if I had to wear diapers, she would learn to deal with it. That took a load off my shoulders. The rest of the evening she just hung around reading and talking to the nurses.

Right before she left I had to go pee again. This time I didn’t even try to fight it. I peed in the diapers. My mom must have been able to tell that I just wet my diapers as she instinctively put her hands under the sheets and under the plastic pants. “You’re wet,” she said. “I know. I just wet.” Mom went out and talked to the nurse, and when she came back in my mom reached for a clean diaper from the diaper stack. She then smiled at me, pulled up my gown in a very gentle way, pulled down my plastic pants, unpinned my wet diaper, rolled me on my side, and replaced the wet diaper with a dry one. She then rubbed some cream in my private areas, sprinkled what I then noticed was baby powder, and gave me a kiss on my cheek.

She then pulled up the diaper, pinned it in place, pulled up my plastic pants, and pulled the sheet over me. She didn’t even pull the gown down. I had never had such a warm feeling with my mother before. I loved her so much that I thought I was looking at an angel from Heaven. The nurses were smiling and commending my mother for doing such a good job. It was a very special moment, not only for me, but for my mother and the nurses, too, or so it seemed.

Mom left for the night, the nurse came in and did something to the IV bottle, and I was out cold.

When I woke up the next morning there was a hand coming under the sheet reaching for my diaper. Before I could wake up, two nurses were removing a wet diaper and putting on a dry diaper. I was very happy and woke up to breakfast and cartoons. Before I could eat people were checking me out, the doctor came in and said a few things to the nurses and then left. I was given a light breakfast and was told I was going to get a suppository to prepare me for surgery. I was confused because I thought a suppository had something to do with the bank. Before I could wet my diaper again, the nurses came in and removed it and asked me to go pee in a jar in the bathroom. I did, and came back out to get on the bed. This time I was told to lay on my stomach. “What on Earth for?” I was thinking. About five minutes later my gown is lifted up and something is shoved right up my butt. I quickly turned over with a scowl on my face and strong arms pressed me back down until the finger was removed.

“We told you you were going to have a suppository”, the nurse said. That’s when I found out what a suppository was. I asked what it was supposed to do. “It’s to help you go poop before the operation,” the nurse replied. Then they proceeded to put my diaper back on. As they were walking out I told the nurse to not go too far in case I was ready to go poop. I didn’t want to go in the diaper. She said she would be close by. So I watched TV for about 15 minutes when something started feeling different inside. I figured the suppository was starting to work so I paid attention to what my body was telling me so I could press the call button quick and get the diaper off. I turned on my side just enough to put the button in my hand when ploop, it was done. I was completely in a state of shock. I just rolled on my back and closed my eyes.

About five minutes later a nurse came in to check on me. I don’t know what she did, because I wouldn’t open my eyes. I was so embarrassed. Next thing I know a bunch of nurses are in the room, my gown goes up, plastic pants go down, the diaper is unpinned, and this time me legs are hoisted over my head, or so it seemed with my eyes closed. After that I felt warm rags wiping my butt, a fresh diaper put under me, cream getting smeared, baby powder being sprinkled, the diaper coming back and getting pinned, the plastic pants coming up, and finally my gown was pulled down and the covers were put over me. I never opened my eyes. In fact, they stayed shut for a while until I heard my mother’s voice and felt her hand on mine.

She must have known what happened, but she didn’t say anything. She did tell me things like I was going to get some presents when I came out of surgery and other stuff. But I was still not talking to myself, and really didn’t care what anybody else had to say.

Eventually the IV was changed and I went into surgery. It’s funny, I woke up in the operating room. I could only move my eyelids. I was heavily sedated. I saw what must have been a 3 feet long hypodermic needle being inserted in my arm. When I saw it going in the thought occurred to me that it was going to go right through my shoulder and they would miss me entirely. I remember wetting my diaper then, I was so frightened.

When I finally came to, the surgery had been successful and I had a dry diaper on. The first thing I remembered then was that I was wearing a diaper and that I was very happy wearing it. The next couple days of recuperating I wet in my diapers all I could, since I knew it wasn’t going to last much longer. I really got quite good at it. I had the nurses doing double time. But they didn’t seem to mind. In fact, as I think back on it, I believe they enjoyed changing my diapers because I was so easy to get along with. One day the doctor came in to check on my healing ear. He pulled back the bandage and then asked the nurse to go get his tools. My mother and stepfather happened to be there at that time. I felt a long slithery feeling inside my skull and the doctor pulled out a rubber band about 3 inches long. The doctor was a little disgusted, but my stepfather said, “Now that explains everything!” giving me a big wink as though my brain was held together with rubber bands.

I was told I would be going home the next day. And I was looking forward to it in some ways because I had a huge pile of new toys right next to my bed that I was anxious to play with. I thought the diapers were great and was going to miss them, but I had to get on with life.

The next day I woke to a wet diaper, and I didn’t do it on purpose. That was a little disconcerting to me as I didn’t mind wetting diapers when I wanted to, but I didn’t like the idea of wetting when I didn’t want to. The nurse told me it was probably the medicine I was taking, and that it will wear off soon. I took comfort in her words and after she changed my diaper I did my best to hold back. Mom came to get me not too long after being changed. The nurse told her about the wetting and she gave my mom a stack of the diapers and plastic pants to take home for nights. They figured I would need to wear them until I regained total control. I didn’t mind at all. I changed out of my dry diaper and put on my regular clothes again. It felt really strange having plain underwear on.

Since I had already emptied my bladder in the diaper I didn’t feel the urge to go before leaving the hospital. And for breakfast I had a large glass of orange juice with my cereal and milk. I was wheeled down to the front desk in a wheel chair with my mom, sister, and stepdad. When we got to the front desk I felt like standing and walked over to stand next to my mother while she signed papers. Suddenly I noticed my pants were getting warm and wet and I looked down to see what was happening. My first thought was that I was standing too close to a fountain or something. It didn’t take long to realize I was peeing my pants and grabbed my “peepee” as fast I could and in a loud and startled voice called, “Mom!” My mother quickly saw that I had peed my pants and asked for the nearest bathroom. She put me in the wheel chair and wheeled me down with my hand on my peepee. After finishing in the toilet I asked my mother what I should do. After hearing some muffled voices outside the door, she told me to open the door and put a gown on over all my clothes.

I did this and we went to a room nearby where a nurse started removing my clothes and putting them in a plastic bag. Because I had this huge bandage on my head, I couldn’t bend up and down very easy. She then set me up on an examination table and out of nowhere pulled out a diaper and plastic pants. My mom told me I could take a bath when I got home, but the diaper would keep me from peeing all over the car, since traffic was pretty heavy and slow. I couldn’t put my wet clothes back on, so my mother said just sit in the wheel chair and we’ll wheel you to the car with you clothes in your lap. Nobody would see that I was wearing a diaper.

We made it to the car and I was quite surprised to see the huge stack of diapers and plastic pants being loaded in between me and my sister. Apparently they wanted to be sure I had enough. Eventually we got home, but by then I was wet again. Everybody else was looking to my reaction, but when I showed that it didn’t bother me, it didn’t bother them either. As I got out of the car, all I had on was a diaper, tennis shoes, and a shirt. Patrick had been nearby playing football, and in a friendly gesture threw the ball across the street saying, “David, catch!” First off, I didn’t hear what he said because I had a big bandage around my ears. And second, I was holding a bag in my hands to hide my diaper. The football hit me in the side of the head. Since none of us could tell whether or not any damage was done, mom told me to get back into the car and she and I went back to the hospital.

By then I was soaked and before the doctor could see me, the nurse changed my diaper again. It was at that point that I realized that I really did want to wear diapers for the rest of my life. I didn’t know what it was, but I was hooked and I really liked being both incontinent and wearing bulky cloth diapers. The doctor checked my ear and everything was fine. So mom and I went back home. My diaper was wet again by the time we got home. This time when I got out, Patrick walked over to the car and apologized. I don’t think he understood the nature of surgery any more than I did before I went to the hospital. One thing was for sure, he’d get a licking if he didn’t apologize. It was then that Patrick saw me wearing diapers. He looked up at me, back down to the diapers, and back up to me.

I didn’t say a word, and neither did he. I had to get into the house so I started walking in. This was the first time I had actually had to walk in the diapers and they felt very different to say the least. It felt like my butt was five feet behind me moving 10 feet back and forth. This feeling was amplified because my friends and neighbors were now gathered around and watching me walk into the house with a diaper on. But as I was walking in I quickly got a sense that I would be accepted by everybody just the way I was. After that, I didn’t hesitate to wet in my diapers at all, not that I was sure I could do something about it if I wanted to. I didn’t want to know, so I never found out. Eventually wetting became the norm and so did the diapers. Mom changed me for a while after getting home until my bandages were removed. Then I insisted on changing my diapers myself. My friends got used to me waddling when playing games and other than a few isolated instances over the years, I didn’t have much problems.

Today, I’m 43 and still wearing diapers. I don’t poop in them, ...very often, but I still enjoy wetting in them. And I still wear mostly cloth diapers with plastic pants and only wear paper diapers during the most formal of occasions. I had to wear diapers to school, too, but that is a different story.

Part 2

After the Hospital

Summary: I had started wearing diapers as the result of a surgery. It was so enjoyable that I openly admitted that I liked wearing diapers and it turned out I was accepted for who I was. This segment of the story is about how I dealt with a bully who picked on me and we became diaper buddies.

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The surgery on my ears was a turning point in my life. Despite my naivety, I ended up wearing diapers, and for some reason, I didn’t feel ashamed about it at all. It was something I wanted to do, and so, when the opportunity availed itself, I took it.

After returning from the hospital, my friends and neighbors could clearly see I was wearing diapers. There were some jokes and teasing made toward me, but I just looked them in the eye and laughed with them. Seeing that I was not going to run and hide from shame, the novelty soon wore off, and we resumed playing with GI Joes, playing board games, writing and recording our own radio shows on a reel-to-reel tape recorder, and generally, just having a good time. But for a while, tag football and jumping off the house roof was not an option. Since I was told the doctors literally cut my ear off in order to clean an infection behind it, I took the instructions for avoiding hard playing seriously.

I wore diapers to school, but there was only a couple weeks left. The few kids who knew, didn’t make an issue of it, and soon school was out for the summer. During the summer, I wore diapers all the time. This meant wearing them to the baby sitters when my mother was working and to the shopping malls and grocery stores when the family went shopping.

Fortunately, my mother bought me coveralls, baggy pants, and large loose shirts to wear, so if people didn’t know I was wearing diapers, they wouldn’t notice them.

One of my most memorable trips was to the local drugstore. At that time, drug stores sold Curity cloth diapers like modern stores sell disposables. Not only that, but the diapers came in prints. I was just kidding around with my mom when she was shopping for supplies that I wished I had some printed diapers instead of plain white ones. I could not believe it when she grabbed three boxes off the shelf of different prints and put them in the basket. I was excited and couldn’t wait to try them on. At the counter I expected the check out lady to make some kind of comment, but she didn’t. Whether she thought the diapers were for me or not didn’t seem to be an issue.

We had to go grocery shopping after the drug store, which only prolonged the suspense. I remember my sister complaining that she had to go to the bathroom and my mother getting annoyed for having to take her. She looked at me and said, “Do you need to go too?” I said that I didn’t and smiled. She smiled back and went off with my sister while I watched the cart. My diapers were already wet just thinking about what I had to look forward to that night.

When we got home and helped carry the groceries in, I wasted no time in taking my diapers to my room. The diapers, it turned out, were Curity 21” x 40” “Stretch Weave.” Each box had teddy bears printed on them except that the background colors for each box were blue, white, and yellow. I opened the box of one dozen yellow diapers with teddy bears. These diapers were different from the prefolds given to us by the hospital. They also seemed much thinner. When I told my mom this she told me I would have to layer them and when she finished putting away the groceries, she would show me how.

When the groceries were put away and the paper bags were folded (I eagerly helped), we went back into my room. Mom took one of the diapers and laid it out flat open, then folded two of the diapers into a center panel, and placed one more over the top. There were now four diapers. She then folded the whole pile such that one third of the full length was folded on the other two thirds. After folding the two sides in she asked me to change out of my wet diaper.

After cleaning up, she lifted me up onto the bed and set me over the middle, while I lay on my back. She then brought the diapers up and pinned them into place. While she brought them up, I noticed the diapers stretched a little around the waist, which was apparently what they were supposed to do. This gave them a really nice fit.

But the new diapers were a bit itchy, and I said so. But mom told me they would get softer with each washing. She also told me she would take the remaining diapers and sew them together so that they would be easier to fold and put on. I was impressed with the nice fit of the new diapers, but they seemed a little scratchy. They were lighter than the hospital diapers though, and I really liked the prints. There was something neat about having yellow diapers with teddy bears on them.

Before bed, I had wet the diapers and had to change back into the hospital diapers. But that would not be for long since mom had already started sewing. The next day the new diapers were sewed and already washed once. When I put them on after being washed with fabric softener and tumble dried, I noticed a huge difference in the softness. From that day on, Curity stretch weave diapers were my favorite. They fit great and were incredibly soft, even when they were wet.

The summer went very fast. I felt like I was on top of the world and although I really liked the diapers, nobody else seemed to care.

When school started back up I was going into the sixth grade, which meant I had to change from the elementary school to the middle school. All my friends went to the new school, too, and there were students from several other elementary schools also transferring in. Because of my clothes, people couldn’t tell I was wearing diapers, and my friends didn’t make anything of it.

But one day during PE, we all had to sit outside on the blacktop while our teacher described the exercises we would be doing. A new kid, Drake, was sitting behind me. Apparently, my diaper was showing, but it was a blue print with teddy bears. Drake made the off comment that I was wearing my pajamas under my clothes and that they had teddy bears on them. Most of the new kids who didn’t know me laughed. I pulled my shirt over to cover them up, but the teacher walked over.

He said, “Were you in a hurry this morning?” I told him no, but that I always wore my pajamas under my clothes, not wanting to admit they were diapers. He then gave me a lecture on how next year we would be taking gym and would be required to change into shorts in front of other boys and so I should get in the habit of dressing properly.

I don’t know what emboldened me, but I looked up to him and told him, “I had an operation last summer that made me wet all the time” and that I wore diapers. He looked lost when I said this, and thinking that maybe the teacher didn’t know what a diaper was, I stood up, lifted my shirt, and pulled my pants back slightly. He didn’t say a word and walked back to the front of the class to continue his lecture and then getting us going with the exercises.

The boy behind me started taunting me under his breath calling me “baby,” “puddle pants,” and other names that I couldn’t hear. After the class was over, he shoved me and called me a pansy. This really hurt my feelings as nobody had ever treated me this way before about wearing diapers. I felt like the wind was taken out of my sails and dragged through the rest of the day. On the way home, Drake came up behind me, stuck his foot in front of me, and pushed me onto a lawn, yelling loudly that I was a little baby and took off running.

When my stepfather got home from work, he noticed I was not feeling good. He asked me if I was sick. When I told him no, he tried to joke with me to cheer me up. When I didn’t respond he looked hurt and started to turn away. Not wanting to ruin his day, I told him I wasn’t mad at him, but was upset because of what the boy Drake had done to me at school.

My stepfather was not a very big man, but he had nerves of steel. He told me that Drake was probably just a confused kid who was abused or neglected at home and that his bullying was his way of dealing with it. I never thought that other kids had bad feelings, and it never occurred to me that people did stupid things because they themselves were hurting. When I asked my stepfather what I should do, he told me that I needed to face him directly and show him that I was not afraid, and if he physically assaulted me again, I had the right to defend myself. Now that I am older, I can think of better ways of dealing with this, but back then fighting was a rite of passage into manhood, and my stepfather had come from that way of thinking.

The next day when I dressed for school, instead of wearing my sneakers, I wore my dress shoes and some nicer clothes. My dress shoes were hard leather and came to a point. When I got to school, I just told my friends that I felt like dressing up for a change.

During lunchtime, Drake came over to my table and loudly stated, “Is the little baby wet?” Some kids from other tables laughed, but my friends did not. Kimberly, who was just an acquaintance, told Drake to leave me alone. Drake then pushed me hard from the back into the table and said, “Is the poor little baby going to cry?” At that point I became angry.

I got up and stood in front of Drake and told him he was probably jealous because he couldn’t wear diapers. This enraged him and he threatened to beat me up right there. Not waiting for him to carry through with his threat, I brought the point of my hard shoe right up between his legs with all my strength. Drake crumpled over onto the ground, not saying a word and barely breathing. One of the girls got up and ran to get a teacher.

After explaining what happened, I was dragged off to the principal’s office. But since both my parents worked, they could not reach either of them and they sent me home with a sealed envelope. The next day my stepfather took me to school and we went straight to the principal’s office. The principal started to explain everything that had happened and that he was going to suspend me from school. When he was done, my stepfather stood up and essentially told the principal that he supported my actions and was proud that I stood up for myself. All I can remember after that was the principal saying something about Drake having to go to the hospital because I had really hurt him.

When I had gotten home, my stepfather told me that although he supported my standing up for myself, in the future I would go to the principal with my complaints first, and he would take care of it for me. That was fine by me, I didn’t want to fight to begin with.

A week later Drake was back in school. For a few days, he avoided me and everybody else. During PE I walked up to him, apologized and told him I wanted to be friends. He turned red and walked away. I felt bad and let him go. The next day during PE I sat behind him, hoping to get a chance to apologize again. While we were sitting there, I noticed his shirt had lifted up and he was wearing a disposable diaper. I thought that was quite odd.

By the time class was over, it dawned on me that I might have done something that caused him to become incontinent. I waited until school was over and caught up to him walking home. He seemed a bit more relaxed away from school and so I apologized again. This time, he turned to me with tears in his eyes and apologized to me. He told me he was so sorry for picking on me and promised never to do it again. I looked at him in the eyes, extended my hand, and while we shook I said, “friends then?” He said, “friends.” I then invited him to come over to my house to play later.

After he had gone home, he came over and I gave him a tour of our yard and my fort. When we went in he could definitely smell that there had been wet diapers in there before. He asked if I liked wearing diapers. I had no problem telling him that I did and enjoyed it very much. Then I asked him if he liked wearing diapers. His face turned red and I told him I had seen it during PE. He was even more embarrassed and started to cry. I held his shoulder and told him not to worry. Then I told him about my situation and that my friends did not mind at all.

When he heard me say that my friends didn’t mind at all, his face lit up, and he asked if they would want to play with us. By then my ear was healing up, so we went to the neighbors and rounded up a group to play tag. After that, Drake and I became buddies. I invited him over often and he became one of the gang.

One day I had to go change my diaper. He said that he was wet, too. When I asked him why he was wearing diapers now, my worst fears were confirmed. I had split his sphincter muscle when I kicked him. Because it wasn’t a clean cut, but more like a squash, some of the muscle had died and the doctors were not able to fix it. He now dribbled all the time. I felt bad and offered him a dry diaper. He had never worn cloth diapers before and had never worn plastic pants. I showed him how it was done and he changed his own diaper.

I had never seen a person’s face light up with the brilliance that Drake’s did after he pinned the white diaper with teddy bears on. He put the plastic pants on and then his clothes. He looked like he was in heaven. “No wonder you don’t mind wearing diapers,” he said. I wish I had diapers like this. I told him to ask his mother to get him some. His happiness almost instantly faded, but after the softness of the diapers got to him again, he said he would try. I then told him where I got these diapers and how my mother had sewed them up for me.

I didn’t see Drake for the weekend, but at school the following Monday he walked over to me smiling and told me his mother had bought him six boxes of Curity stretch weave cloth diapers with prints on them. He said she would sew them up today while he was at school. When I asked him how she took it, he said he didn’t expect her to take it so well. His mom and he didn’t talk about the diapers at all since he had to start wearing them. She just did what the doctor told her to do and tried not to let her emotions get involved.

However, when he was getting to the last of his disposables, he said he took advantage of the opportunity and told his mom that he felt guilty that they had to spend so much money on him. He said that when he suggested to his mother that he wear cloth diapers, she almost immediately loaded him in the car and headed for the store. When he got there, Drake pointed out the diapers he would like and his mother quickly grabbed six boxes, some rubber pants, baby powder, pins, and other items. He then waited out in the car while she made the purchase.

I couldn’t believe the change in his personality. A few weeks earlier Drake was a bully, and then he became a good friend who was happy with his own life. A few days later, Drake invited me over to his house. I asked my mom, and she said it was okay. As I got to the front door and knocked, my stomach suddenly fell out from under me. It had just occurred to me that his parents might not be as friendly to me after what I had done. But before I could turn around, Drake’s mother opened the door and invited me in.

The only way I could think of dealing with the situation was coming right out and offering an apology for what I had done to Drake. Apparently, his mother did not know I was the same boy who had kicked him. She turned white, and then red. But before she could decide what to do, Drake stepped up and told her that it was actually his fault for provoking the fight. Apparently, his mother had not heard this confession before. Now her anger seemed to be directed at Drake.

She then walked into the kitchen without saying a word. Drake and I looked at each other, and then decided to go outside and play. Drake had a skateboard and a slanted driveway, so we spent the next hour or so practicing with the skateboard and having a good time. After a while, Drake had to go in to get ready for dinner, which meant changing his wet diaper and washing up. But when his mother came out to call him in, she had a smile on her face as though she was pleased to see us having so much fun. I said good-bye, and headed back home.

The next weekend I was invited by his mother to come over for a backyard picnic. My mother was curious about meeting them and drove me over. My mother and Drake’s mother got along good and for the next couple of years, they were friends. Drake’s father seemed indifferent and didn’t seem to notice we were there.

Eventually, some of the other kids at school noticed that Drake was wearing a diaper, too. But after a few weeks of people talking, they got over it. It seemed many of the kids thought it was neat that the two boys in class who wore diapers started as enemies and turned out as good friends.

And we were good friends, until a couple years later when my mother and stepfather divorced. At that time, I was sick of the city life and told them that whoever moved to the country, I would live with them. My mother stayed and my stepfather moved to the country. Drake and I parted as good friends, and my adventures continued along a different path.

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