Oh, don’t I know this feeling!
Once my stepdad starting spanking me on my bare bottom when I was a teenager in front of family and guests, privacy was no longer something I was entitled to. That meant if my younger brother was instructed to see if I was ready to go somewhere – whoosh! The door would open without warning. Sometimes right along with his friends or our younger male cousins.
And too often my swearing and slamming the door in his face would merely lead to me being fully undressed as soon as I got downstairs for a humiliating spanking over my stepdad’s lap.
About four days after I received my first full-blown spanking, my stepdad’s brother and sister-in-law came over one late afternoon. Neither my mom nor younger brother Matt were home at the time and my older brother Bobby was away with his girlfriend.
My stepdad was still angry and peeved at me and, as he often did, he sought validation of his point of view by others as a way of belittling and embarrassing me further.
Out of the blue he instructed me to go upstairs and show his brother and sister-in-law what a “slutty outfit” I had intended to wear to go swimming in. He just wanted them to add their two cents in telling me how “wrong” I was (and to reinforce that my recent spanking was justified).
I said “no” and said, “What’s the point, anyway? You said I can’t wear it.”
That just got his ire raised.
“The “point” is because I said so,” he growled.
Again, I refused to budge, saying, “No, there’s no reason to.”
His sister-in-law, Nicole, gave me a look of disapproval.
“Becky, don’t argue with your father,” she said, scolding me. “Go and change and let’s see what’s so bad about this swimsuit that he doesn’t want you to wear.”
I shook my head and said, “It doesn’t matter. He won’t let me wear.”
My stepdad was about out of patience with me and said, “Becky, don’t make me go upstairs to your room and bring it down here. Because if you don’t go up there right now and put it on now, I’ll undress you myself, give you a spanking and you’ll still have to put it on.”
My jaw dropped but Nicole just gave a shrug.
About ten seconds later, my stepdad had lost his patience.
“Fine,” he said. “If you want to embarrass yourself, that’s the way it will be.”
And with that comment, he spun me around to face his brother and sister-in-law and then reached around me to being unfastening my pants.
As he unzipped and unbuttoned them, he was still grumbling about my “disrespect” and “crappy attitude.” Within seconds my pants were below me my knees.
Blushing in embarrassment with everyone’s eyes focused on me, I pleaded, “Okay, okay. I’ll go put it on.”
“Too late,” was my stepdad’s reply and then he grabbed the bottom of my t-shirt and began lifting it up.
“No, please,” I begged. “Don’t spank me. I’ll go put it on.”
But my t-shirt was soon up over my head, then off of me completely and tossed aside.
“Now, get those pants off,” he barked.
Reluctantly, I kicked off my shoes and then slipped off my pants – which had already fallen down to my ankles. As instructed, I neatly folded them up and set them aside.
Standing in nothing but a skimpy pair of bra and panties, I blushed red with embarrassment and clenched my teeth knowing what was coming off next.
As I closed my eyes in shame, I felt my stepdad slip his fingers into the waistband of my panties.
I muttered out one final plea, “Please don’t spank me. I’ll go put on my bikini. I promise. I promise.”
Miraculously, there was a pause in the downward movement of my panties before they betrayed my modesty.
My stepdad then said, “OK, Becky, go put it on. But if you don’t listen and I have to spank you tonight, you’ll get not one just a spanking now but another one tomorrow night right after supper.”
My eyes widen with trepidation.
“Huh? But isn’t Janet and her boys coming over tomorrow?”
(Janet, who was then divorced, is my stepdad’s first cousin; her two sons were then 14 and 11-years old.)
My stepdad nodded and Nicole just smirked as she said, “Then, if you don’t want to embarrass yourself tomorrow, you’d better get upstairs and change now. Right, Becky?”
I quickly nodded and rushed upstairs to change. My bra was off before I even got into my room and my panties a few seconds later. With about two minutes I was heading back downstairs in my g-strong thong bikini, albeit with a robe on which was tied closed around my waist.
As soon as I got back downstairs, I untied the robe and did a quick flash of my bikini to my stepdad’s brother and sister-in-law. But my stepdad told me to take off the robe completely.
“What?” I exclaimed. “But why?”
One stern, disapproving look was all I needed and the robe soon laying on top of my t-shirt and pants as I blushed in embarrassment with one arm draped across my chest and my left one brushing up and down my right thigh, trying to avoid showing the back of my thong to
“See what I mean?” my stepdad said to his brother and sister-in-law. Then to me, “Now turn around, Becky.”
Sure, if I wore it to the lake, people would see me. But there would either be friends. Or strangers who I’d most likely never see again. That would be my choice.
But, now, I was being forced to display my body in it for the sole purpose of being ridiculed so my stepdad could use his brother’s and sister-in-law’s criticism as justification for the spanking I had received over the weekend.
And so I had to do a 360, displaying all sides of my body.
My stepdad, of course, berated me by pointing out how little covering the bikini provided.
While my stepdad’s brother pretty much stayed quiet, mostly just nodding to agree with his wife and my stepdad, Nicole soon lashed out at me. She added to my humiliation by not only agreeing that the bottom front panel was too low cut and too revealing, but pointed out that anyone could see I wasn’t shaving.
When I embarrassing lean over towards her and said in a whisper that I did indeed intend to trim myself, she untied one string and pulled away the front of the bikini and observed that I would need more than just a trim because of how small that front part of the bikini was. I could have died of embarrassment with her husband standing right there looking down at my partial exposure.
At the same time, I mistakenly took that as an endorsement that she thought it was OK for me to wear it perhaps if I shaved myself completely. Until my stepdad stressed again that I had intended to wear it in public at the lake.
Nicole then expressed her disapproval, saying she thought I meant I was going to one of my girlfriends’ house swimming pool.
“Shame on you, Becky,” she scolded. “How could you embarrass your dad by wearing this in public?”
I protested, one hand trying to cover myself, “How would it embarrass HIM? He’s not going to be there. He has NO RIGHT to tell me what to wear!”
My response was quickly met with my stepdad swatting my behind quite hard. The shock made me instinctively reach back with both hands, my bottoms dropping down completely as I tried to grab them too late.
I swore in embarrassment, “Fuck!”
But when I reached down trying to pull them back up, my stepdad stuck his knee out and pulled me over it and I was soon getting a spanking.
“How many times have I told you to watch your mouth?” he yelled.
A few minutes later I was standing up, rubbing my sore bottom without any concern for my bottomless, sobbing and apologizing for talking back and swearing. Then he stood up and spun me around to face his brother and sister-in-law and apologize to them, too, for my (in his opinion) disrespect.
Nicole again told me I should be ashamed of myself, then told me to “pop your tits back into your top”, speculating that if they couldn’t remain covered for a “little spanking” how were they going to stay covered during a whole day of swimming and running about?
Thoroughly humiliated, I turned to look at my stepdad and asked if I could please go upstairs. He glanced in Nicole’s direction, then nodded and I quickly ran upstairs to my room, cried and buried my blushing face into my pillow.
I guess I soon cried myself to sleep, awakened only a few hours later when my younger brother Matt shook my shoulder to wake me up saying, “Becky… Oh, Becky Bare-Butt… Time to eat.”
EMBARRASSED. SHAMED. DEGRADED. DEMEANED. DISGRACED. HUMILIATED. MORTIFIED.
That’s how I felt nine years ago as a 16-year old teenager from having my bare bottom spanked numerous times by my stepdad.
And that doesn’t even get into the other emotions it fed: anger, guilt, hate…
But from having it happen first in front of my younger brother and his 12-year old playmate (a boy I regularly babysat – making those feelings intensify greatly) to the spankings I got a week later on full display in front of not only my younger brother (who was present the whole time) but also in front of my older brother, his girlfriend and two friends of theirs from college who unexpectedly walked into the house during my punishment, my humiliation and shame complete, I also felt new emotions:
Resignation, helplessness and total submission.
As that evening’s spanking began, I was told from that now on, that is how I would be punished: bared from the waist down and spanked regardless of who was in the room – this time it was my younger brother again. And if I continued to reach back with my hands to block the swats, my stepdad would continue to unhook or simply remove my bra each time too (as he had last week and that night), essentially giving me a choice whether to suffer further shame or be compliant and accept my punishment.
As one vicious bare-hand slap after another that night rained down on my bare bottom, I cried and pleaded for mercy that still makes be ashamed to this day for not being stronger and more defiant.
With tears rolling down my cheeks I promised and acknowledged and agreed that I understood how I’d be spanked from that day on and that I knew I’d be spanked each weekend for the next month for my ”poor behavior” and ”disrespect.”
With each demanding question put to me I blubbered out barely coherent answers:
“Are you going to behave from now on?” – yes
“You promise?” – yes
“Are you going to start showing me respect?” – yes
“You promise?” – yes
“Are you going to start dressing properly?” – yes
“I didn’t hear you?” – yes
“You promise?” – yes
“Are you ever going to run out of the house again?” – no
“You promise?” – yes
“Are you going to stop talking back?” – yes
“You promise?” – yes
“And what will happen if you do, or if you don’t listen or behave?” – I get a spanking.
“What kind of spanking?” – a… a bare bottom spanking.
“And if you don’t behave while being spanked?” – my top gets removed.
“What about your bra?” – it gets removed too
“I didn’t understand you. What did you say?” – my bra gets removed too
“Are you going to behave from now on?” – yes
“You promise?” – yes
Resignation, helplessness and total submission indeed.
Regardless of the embarrassment, the stinging to my bottom was just too much and so I let my unhooked bra fall to the floor as I grabbed the lower part of the legs of the chair with my hands to help brace myself, my younger brother having already seen me essentially spanked twice this way before: naked. (As he had done before my stepdad had unhooked my bra that night, figuring that would keep my hands busy trying to hold it up against my breasts than reaching back attempting to block the swats.)
Between my stepdad’s commands, me crying, Matt watching and my mom in the shower upstairs, no one it seems heard the doorbell.
The first indication that others were behind me was upon hearing a guy’s voice exclaim, “Whoa! What the fuck?! Sweeeeeet!”
An unfamiliar female voice then began giggling.
Then I heard a familiar snort – it was coming from my older brother, Bobby.
And I quickly recognized his girlfriend (now wife) Kris’ voice from her, “Oh my God!”
My stepdad stopped only momentarily, before addressing Bobby: “This is what your sister gets for running around the neighborhood half-naked. Isn’t that right, Becky? Well? Answer me! Well?”
I blubbered out a barely coherent string of “yesses” and could only imagine what they all must of thought of my stepdad’s twisting of what had really happened that day.
Then I heard the other female say, “Come on, Cory. Let’s go and wait in the car for Kris.” (As I later found out, the four of them had double-dated and were dropping Bobby off at home; Bobby was starting college that fall.)
“I said, ‘Let’s go!” she said again, even as she giggled.
Then my mom came downstairs from her shower, yelling at my stepdad as the couple who were friends of my older brother and his girlfriend (now wife) made a hasty exit. I could hear the guy telling his girlfriend, “Did you see the way her tits were bouncing?”, both of them giggling as they closed the door on their way outside.
Embarrassed, shamed, degraded, demeaned, disgrace, humiliated, mortified indeed.
Then as I, in retrospect, made the poor decision to answer back to the way my stepdad “explained” to my older brother and his girlfriend why I was being punished, my bare bottom received several more slaps for my trouble – until my mom demanding that he stop and that I stand up.
When I did, I could do nothing but stand there, my bare bottom most certainly a bright cherry red and on fire as if stung by a hive of bees from that evening’s spanking and an earlier one late that afternoon. I could not help rubbing it while indifferent to my nakedness in front of my mom, my stepdad, my two brothers and my older brother’s girlfriend.
As I stood there, my parents arguing, my younger brother held up and dangled my bra in front of me, grinning. I snatched it from his hands before flinging it across the room in anger – my shame and humiliation already complete.
As my parents continued arguing, my older brother Bobby stared at me, a shocked expression on his face of both disbelief but also disapproval from what my stepdad was saying about my behavior that day.
My stepdad continued, “Who knows? Maybe she was flashing truckers on the way back home.”
I protested: “I did not. I had the towel wrapped around me and…”
But he cut me off and made fun of me saying, “Hear that? But she had a ‘TOWEL’ on! If that’s the way she wants to dress in public, then she has no right to complain about being spanked this way. She already knows that from now on, when she gets spanked it will be on her bare ass. Isn’t that right, Becky?”
I nodded, then mouthed a “yes” when ordered to speak up and answered “on my bare bottom” when questioned as to how I’d be spanked any time it was felt I needed a spanking.
My mom began arguing again, “I said that’s enough…”
I heard my dad saying something like ‘”That’s right. On her bare ass… don’t care what her brothers see…”
As my mom was saying, “I don’t want you spanking her anymore.”
Matt started to say something. Then my mom added, “And that goes for Matt, too.”
My stepdad countered and said something like, “Why? Because now that Miss Spoiled Tart here sheds a few tears? You never demanded I stop spanking him. Why should she be treated any differently? Maybe a sore ass and a little humiliation each week will finally teach her to behave.”
“Becky, should you be treated any differently than Matt? Is that fair?” he asked.
“No,” I replied.
“So if he gets spanked for misbehaving or talking back, how should you be spanked?”
“The same. On my bare bottom,” I answered, my head down in shame.
“When?” he asked.
“Every time I don’t listen,” I replied.
He continued arguing with my mom: “I’ve had it with her attitude, her disrespect and her dressing like a hooker. From now on, that’s the way it’s going to be until she goes off to college and I don’t give a fuck how embarrassed she says she is. If she’s embarrassed naked and bare-assed being spanked over her father’s lap, if she’s embarrassed with her brothers seeing her like that, then she can start behaving herself and watching her sassy mouth. Otherwise…”
At that point I just lost it. Not over my humiliation, my nakedness and the twisting of the truth as to what had happened that day. Not over the spanking.
With my hands on my hips, I turned to face him and yelled back, “You’re NOT my father. My father’s DEAD. Stop calling yourself that, you don’t know the meaning of the word, you son of a bitch! I HATE you! Do you hear me? I HATE YOU!”
There was quite a hush in the room and I just sort of stood there, then began trembling, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Kris, Bobby’s girlfriend, left the room for a moment and walked in the kitchen, returning with an apron for me to drape around myself. As she handed it to me it fell to the floor; I didn’t bother picking it up.
My mom said, “Becky, why don’t you go upstairs and put something on?”
My stepdad replied, “After that outburst? You’re going to let her get away and go unpunished for that? Apparently two spankings today weren’t enough.”
At that point, I outstretched both arms away from my and yelled back at my mom:
“Put something on? What for? You heard him. From now on, why should I bother wearing anything around the house since this is how I’m going to be spanked?”
I stood like that for at least ten seconds or so, everyone staring at me, until finally an incredible sense of shame came over me. I threw my hands across my boobs and pussy and went running off into the living and flung myself onto the couch. There I lay crying, burying my head into the pillows for I’m not sure how long. Then I felt Kris’ hands caressing my shoulders.
A robe in her hand, she whispered to me that my mom wanted me to spend the night at my best friend’s house, that hers and Bobby’s friends were still out front in their car all that time waiting to drive her home and that they’d drop me off, Kris having already called my girlfriend that I’d soon be coming over.
As I stood up, putting on the robe, my mom walked over. She hugged and kissed me and told me that everything was going to be alright. That she was sorry she didn’t act sooner. She handed me a small overnight bag that she had Kris hastily pack for me and walked out of the room, saying she’d see me in the morning. As Kris led me out the door, I didn’t look back into the dining room where I could hear my stepdad still arguing with her but in a much more subdued tone. My mom had told him she was filing for divorce.
There were still more spankings, more humiliation and more shame to come as the divorce progressed. Nor did it matter whoever may have been present as I was often reduced to a crying, naked, jiggling spectacle throughout most of that summer.
For years afterward, I was in denial. Whenever in conversation if asked had I ever been spanked by my parents, I’d deny it. Sure, I’d sometimes acknowledge that my younger brother was spanked while growing up. But not me. And certainly not as a teenager. And never, never, NEVER by my stepdad.
He hadn’t seen me naked since I was in diapers, I’d reply. Only my family and my closest friends knew the truth. Had guys at my high school knew, I would have never lived it down.
But the embarrassment, shame, degradation and humiliation was still there. It still is. Though I’ve finally come to terms that at least the shame isn’t mine. It’s his – for treating me like that.
But even though it has faded with time, the embarrassment and humiliation will always be there.
This was initially published on The Experience Project, July 21, 2011
While I readily admit that it was entirely appropriate and totally justified and completely my fault that, at 13-years old, I had to spend several hours one day wearing nothing but a diaper and be seen by extended family like that (yes, topless and wearing nothing but a diaper), was it really necessary later that day for seemingly the whole extended family of my stepdad’s sister’s in-laws gathering around to watch my diaper get changed?
It wasn’t the first time I was diapered during my school years in front of people and it wouldn’t be the last time, either. But it was without a doubt the most embarrassing time.
The reason for me being in a diaper to begin with was undeniably totally my fault. I had absolutely no one to blame but myself. The blame for my shame was mine – and mine alone.
But still, there I was – less than two months shy of turning 14-years old – sitting in the backseat of my stepdad’s sister’s minivan on a summer day in 1999, wedged between her two grinning and giggling younger boys . . . wearing nothing but a diaper!
I really didn’t want to be with them that weekend, the summer before I started 8th grade. But my mom was away for the weekend and my stepdad had wanted to take my two brothers with him camping – and not have a teenage girl with them.
So I was shuffled off to spend the weekend with my stepdad’s sister and her family. She and her husband had three young boys, two of school age (9 and 10-years old) and a third who was a toddler.
I had spend Friday night at their house and, I admit, it was my responsibility to be ready on time Saturday morning. Pamela’s husband’s family was having a big summer get together at his parents’ house and I had to go along with them.
I had packed some changes of clothes for the weekend but none with me in the car (nor did anyone else, for that matter). We had a 3-hour plus drive to get where we were going on that warm summer day but we were going back the same night.
I wanted look dressed up but still be comfortable. I always was keenly aware there would most likely be at least some teenage boys there. So I wore a very short, very flirty, white backless halter dress. As it had a plunging neckline, I didn’t wear a bra that day. I did wear a pair of white cotton panties (yes, I knew they’d show if I bent over so I knew I would have to be careful to avoid embarrassing myself, one reason I wore them instead of a thong). But, basically I looked, well… hot!
What I didn’t anticipate was that not long after breakfast we were rushed out to the car without much time to spare because we were running late. On top of that, I had overslept so I had rushed to eat, then I guess I took too long trying to look my best, between showering and getting dressed and applying makeup and fixing my hair. But the one think I didn’t do was allow myself time to use the bathroom before we left. I thought we had more time than we did. I had also helped myself to two tall glasses of fruit juice at breakfast.
It was already warm and I soon drank a large bottle of water in the car. But between what I had to drink at breakfast and the water, in less than an hour I was soon begging for us to stop at a rest area.
Just as we were getting to one, I just knew I wasn’t going to make it. I started to wet my panties just as we got to the rest stop. Worried about wetting the car seat, I tucked my dress in between my legs as I winced uncomfortably, crossing my legs, as the boys along each side of me relished in my discomfort.
As we pulled off the highway to the rest stop I was pleading to Pamela’s husband to “Hurry! Hurry!”
But as soon as I stepped out of the car, the dam broke. I had hiked my dress up high above my waist and Pamela, her husband and the boys watched in speechless amazement as pee gushed through my soaked panties, both onto the pavement, down my legs and on my heels for a good fifteen seconds or more. When the gusher finally stopped, the boys were already giggling, both Pamela and her husband grinning and me standing there, still holding my dress up way above my waist and fully exposing my panties, which were undoubtedly quite transparent.
Having no spare clothes at all with us, what Pamela insisted on was really the only viable alternative. I would have to strip, naked, right there at the rest stop. I surely couldn’t wear those clothes for the rest of the trip. But if not, then what?
Then I found out what the answer would be. The boys’ giggles turned to chuckling when Pamela asked one of them to reach behind their seat for the diaper bag!
Pamela then led me to the bathroom (fortunately, there were no other drivers there at the time). Once out of the view of her husband and the boys, she ordered me to strip off my clothes. As all I had on were the dress, panties and shoes, it didn’t take long. There was no argument. I knew what was coming but also knew that Pamela was 100% correct. It didn’t matter that I was 13-years old. I was going to be diapered and – as much as I hate to admit it – justifiable so!
The bathroom was a single-occupy one. So there was no stall. Just a room with a toilet and a sink. Pamela pointed to the toilet and asked me if I needed to use it. Quite embarrassed already, I sure didn’t need the additional humiliation of her watching me pee a little more, so I declined and said, “No, I don’t.” In truth, I could have probably peed a little more. But I didn’t have a huge urge to, especially not after the downpour I had unleashed in front of everyone.
Once I was naked, Pamela used my dress to soak up most of the pee on me then pulled some baby wipes out of the bag and cleaned me up. As she wiped between my legs and had me turn around to wipe my bare bottom, I felt like I was about four, not thirteen!
My panties and my dress appeared done for the day and, worried about me having another accident since we still had several hours of driving, she rightfully pulled out one of the extra diapers she brought for her toddler. My pee-soaked panties and dress, along with my heels, were put into a plastic bag and soon stuffed into the back of the minivan. The only thing I now had on was a diaper. And one for a toddler at that, a nappy which left the upper half of my butt cracked exposed, that didn’t quite cover all of my wispy pubic hair in the front and which was being barely held together on the sides by a couple of safety pins.
There was literally nothing else I could wear. I tried to keep my boobs covered with my hands to stop the boys from seeing me topless but that lasted until I was told to buckle my seatbelt. There were laughing from the moment their mom and I emerged from the bathroom. Naturally, right at that moment we came out of the bathroom, another car had pulled up and out jumped two teenage boys. I cringed as they stared at me for a moment before bursting out into laughter. I could swear I saw a camera flash from the car where in the backseat sat a teenage girl, laughing in hysterics.
I was hugely embarrassed and felt ashamed that I had peed myself and was now wearing nothing but a diaper, but it was the only practically solution other than Pamela’s husband turning us around and driving back to their house.
So, yes at that point, it was undeniable. I – AT 13-YEARS OLD – BELONGED IN A DIAPER.
But more embarrassment came later when we got stuck in traffic (traffic which we may not have got stuck into if not for the delay caused by my accident). We were going to pull off to one last rest stop but then I wet myself again, this time soaking the diaper, and then lying after I did so since there wasn’t much a point in stopping after that.
When we got to our destination it was unavoidable that pretty much a number of guests who were milling about outside and came up to the minivan to greet us saw me wearing nothing but a diaper. But, even at this point, my shame for the day was just beginning.
It had been my choice to wear a backless dress, with no bra, that day. With my panties totally pee-soaked and my dress wet, too, and with no spare clothing whatsoever with us, me being diapered was the ONLY and COMPLETELY REASONABLE option.
So I completely concede the point that, despite being 13-years old at the time, there was NO OTHER CHOICE but for my stepdad’s sister to change me into NOTHING BUT A DIAPER and for me to remain that way for the rest of the drive to our destination. It was embarrassing as hell, especially with me topless and sitting between her two giggling and grinning school-aged boys (who were about 8 and 9 at the time) in the back seat. But yet it was totally justifiable to have me sitting in the car wearing only a diaper given the circumstances.
I can’t even fault the boys for teasing me. After all, I was a 13-year old girl just a handful of weeks away from entering 8th grade but who had badly peed herself – and was now wearing nothing but a diaper. How could anyone fault 9 and 10-year old boys from enjoying my shameful predicament?
I had no one to blame for my embarrassment and my shame but myself. Nor should I have even expected to avoid additional embarrassment once we arrived at our destination. Though we had encountered delays because of traffic, my wetting myself was as much a reason for our tardiness as anything else. So not being able to slip inside clad as I was without being noticed was again basically my fault too, no one else’s.
If a lot of people hadn’t been around outside, then sure it might have made sense to wait for someone to fetch a robe or a towel. But the longer I sat in the minivan, the doors open and me in just a diaper for everyone to see, the more it made sense when Pamela instructed me to get out of the car and come with her into the house. I naturally trusted that I’d soon be away from everyone to get cleaned up and dressed.
Instead, while I was carrying the bag with my pee-soaked panties and dress in my right hand and trying to cover my boobs with my left arm, Pamela reached up and grabbed by left hand and walked me over to some of her husband’s relatives – and introduced me! Some ten minutes later, now inside the house, she was still being greeted by others and introducing me as I stood there totally exposed from my diaper up as I was repeatedly asked (and prodded by Pamela to answer) all the typical questions, “How old are you, Becky?” “What grade are you in, Becky?” “How come a big girl like you is wearing just a diaper, Becky?”
Nearly all my embarrassment up until that point that day (except for Pamela taking her time to introduce me to many guests while I stood wearing but only a diaper) was the result of my own actions – that is, peeing myself. Yes, I’ll even concede the point it was not unreasonable to make me get out of the car and walk past everyone and into the house in just the diaper. But what happened next I felt was purposeful embarrassment by Pamela and my stepdad’s sister-in-law (they had married siblings of my stepdad’s).
NAKED ON FLOOR, HAVING MY DIAPER CHANGED IN FRONT OF GUESTS
That’s right. Pamela began changing my diaper – in full view of smirking guests and with even her 9 and 10-year old boys sitting down on the floor beside me, getting quite an educational view of a naked teenage girl at my expense. And Pamela? She simply carried on conversations with everyone in the room as if I were a toddler having my diaper changed.
First, while Pamela was still holding my hand as if I were a small child as she and guests exchanged introductions, she matter-of-factly answered the questions about why I was wearing a diaper: “Becky had an accident in the car and there was nothing else clean for her to wear.”
At that point, my stepdad’s sister-in-law Nicole walked up, smirking at me.
One young girl standing nearby wondered, giggling, “Is her diaper wet?”
The answer to that question became clear to everyone when Pamela very nonchalantly pulled away the front of my diaper and answered, “Yes, it looks like Becky wet her diaper,” giving me the tsk-tsk look as those around just smirked.
My stepdad’s sister-in-law, Nicole, probably was just relishing that opportunity to embarrass me further – and did. So to add to my embarrassment, Nicole (who I felt did love to embarrass me) chimed in and said, “Becky’s always having accidents.” (So not true, I wanted to blurt out but kept quiet)
“She had to wear a diaper in first grade all year.” (So not accurate with the “all” part, either, although for a time it seemed like that would end up being the case, if it were left up to my teacher.)
For years, Nicole had told that to people at family gatherings, often in front of me. She had also diapered me herself, including in front of her neighbor and her neighbor’s children (who, adding to my shame, happened to be 2nd & 3rd graders at my school) when I was 7-years old and a handful of times after that. Now, unfortunately, she had a whole new and even more embarrassing story to humiliate me with in the future.
But at that moment, I was in a wet diaper. And what happens to children in wet diapers?
Nicole had that answer, when she quickly suggested, “Why don’t we take Becky into the next room and change her diaper in there?”
“Change her diaper?” Is that what she just said, I repeated in my mind? Could that also mean I was going to be KEPT in a diaper? I glanced into the room and saw that there were several adults and a number of school age kids younger than me in there. True, there were fewer people in the adjacent room than the dozen or so around me in the entry way. But, I was 13-years old at the time! I shouldn’t even BE in a diaper, let alone be changed into a new one in front of mostly total strangers and kids much younger than me.
On the other hand, it was undeniable that I had peed myself, not once, but TWICE in the past several hours. So the fact I had been put in a diaper was totally reasonable. I just didn’t think that I needed to remain in one now that I had access to a bathroom instead of being stuck in a minivan on the highway without recourse.
The distress must have shown on my face.
But Pamela merely nodded, confirming my fears, adding: “At least you’ll be in a clean diaper, Becky, just until we get your dress washed and dried out.”
But I knew that could take hours! And in the meantime everyone would see me in a diaper.
The two women then lead me into the next room and I cringed in shame as my stepdad’s two nephews (who, though sitting on each side of me in the car hadn’t at least seen me put into the diaper) and even a couple of adults followed us in, adding to the compliment of people already in that room. I noticed an older teenager girl (around 17 or 18-years old) smirking and waving with her hand and moments later a cute, teenage boy about the same age was standing next to her. One of the younger children in the room likewise ran out to bring back a sibling or a cousin. It was basically standing room only.
My stepdad’s sister then pulled out her baby blanket and a diaper from her baby bag (her husband was taking care of their toddler at that point) and she spread the baby blanket on the floor and instructed me to lay on it. I could see that everyone was looking in my direction, a few trying to be discreet about it but certainly not the teenagers or the kids or the adults sitting on a couch a few feet from me.
Giggles from the kids in the room and snickering from some of the adults too quickly followed as my wet diaper slipped down, exposing me to everyone. I started bawling like a baby.
My wet diaper was then removed completely and put into a plastic bag. I was now totally bare. I wish I didn’t glance around, because all I saw were smirks and snickering on the faces of those around me, most of whom had their eyes riveted on my most private area or on my boobs or glancing up and down at both.
At that point, another guest walked in and asked for Pamela, who excused herself for several minutes. During that time Nicole remained there, standing over and smirking down at me. I was actually even too embarrassed to even attempt to cover my nudity. What really would have been the point? I felt like a pre-school girl laying there instead of a soon-to-be 8th grader.
Nicole then ask me, “So how many times did you pee yourself today, Becky?”
I whispered, “Twice.”
But she scolded me, “Speak up. I didn’t hear you.”
I answered again, but perhaps too loudly, “I peed myself twice.”
That brought some giggling and snickers from those in the room. I overheard the older teenage girl say something to her brother or boyfriend, something like, “Hear that? What a baby. She DOES belong in a diaper.”
I then thought I heard the whirl of a camera probably being held by the teenage girl followed by a few chuckles from teenage boy with her. But what did it matter? There had already plenty of photo-taking when everyone was greeting everyone earlier. (Pamela did nothing to discourage the picture-taking. At one point earlier, she even made me face the cameras of several of her husband’s relatives, with her two grinning young boys on each side of me.)
When Pamela returned, she began spreading and lifting my legs, first one at a time, then both up high to wipe my bottom too, cleaning me off with baby wipes and got a clean diaper out of her bag.
Nicole then said, “Once Becky’s in her clean diaper she can go outside and join the other children.”
OMG! All I could think of was how more embarrassing the day was going to get and now hoping that there were NOT any more cute teenage boys among the guests.
But, thankfully, at that point, a female guest walked into the room and said, “Found some clothes for the girl who wet her…”
She stopped when she saw me on the floor, ready to be wiped, smirked and completed her sentence, “…diaper.” She obviously was expecting to see a much younger girl, not a teenager.
The “clothes” consisted of was a pair of short shorts and a t-shirt, a change of clothes she had brought for her daughter, but beggars can’t be choosers.
Nicole immediately objected: “I really think Becky should stay in her diaper. She’ll probably just have another accident anyway. We’re just going to have to change her again.”
Pamela paused and seemed to briefly consider Nicole’s suggestion but ultimately didn’t agree and instructed me to stand up. When I did so, she picked up the baby blanket off the floor and told me to wrap it around myself. It was just a small one, so for the most part I could only conceal my frontal nudity and let my bottom remain exposed. When we left the room it, I had to pass a smirking crowd that had gathered near the doorway.
She then walked me through the house past a number of other guests and upstairs to a bathroom, where I was finally allowed to be alone in my shame. The shorts the female guest had given me to wear were tight, and the t-shirt too, but it was better than wearing a diaper. But still, my midriff was bare and my boobs were flattened by the tight fabric. I couldn’t fasten the top button of the shorts, which barely covered my mound and left the top of my butt crack showing in the back. I certainly didn’t look my age.
Hours later I was finally in my dress (with my panties on underneath, both washed and dried). She at least let me manage changing into my clothes by myself in a bedroom. But the damage to my reputation, granted among people who for the most part I wouldn’t see again, was complete.
The rest of the day went without me having any accident, sort of. But the embarrassment leveled at me wasn’t about to stop just yet.
Pamela’s toddler was acting up and they wanted to leave a little earlier than expected. But it was then when I needed to go to the bathroom. Unfortunately, although the house had four bathrooms, they were all occupied. A few minutes passed, then five, then ten. I was starting to get desperate and it showed, while Pamela was getting impatient.
Finally, one of the bathrooms became available and I dashed in so fast I didn’t even bother to lock the door. I had just made it.
Since they lived not far from each other, Nicole at some point when I was in the bathroom said to Pamela and her husband to go ahead and take the boys home; that she and her husband would drive me to Pamela’s on their way home a few hours later and drop me off.
About five or ten minutes later when I was about ready to get off the toilet, a young boy opened the door and saw me sitting there. He quickly left but didn’t close the door tightly and it soon swung completely open. Understandably embarrassed, I made a quick wipe, pulled up my panties and pulled my dress back down. But I also still felt the urge to pee some more. But just then, Nicole walked by the door and called to me.
I was soon back in the room where I had been shamed earlier. Nicole explained, loud enough for anyone in earshot to hear, that she didn’t want me having any accidents in their new car and that Pamela had left a few extra diapers with her. I was to be in diapers on the way home.
This time I protested, saying I didn’t need to be in a diaper. But she just pointed to the floor, where she had laid down a towel. I knew it was an argument I would not win and so I complied.
A few giggling younger kids soon gathered around to watch and Nicole did not discourage them from doing so. On the floor besides me was a naked boy of about five, his mom in the process of changing his diaper before they left to go home. In a few moments I knew I would be nearly as naked as that boy, my only saving modesty would be that my dress, though raised up, at least still covered my boobs.
But only for a moment. Nicole soon reached down and slipped my dress off over my head, saying “No sense in getting your dress all wet again if you have another accident in the car.”
She then slipped it on a hanger and laid it across the back of a chair next to a few bags that were destined to go into her car on the way home.
The mom attending to the boy next to me smirked and said to Nicole, “So, she has accidents in the car on long rides, too?”
Nicole responded, “Always! She had two just today. Isn’t that right, Becky?”
Totally humiliated, I could only nod and meekly say “Uh huh,” to the snickers of the teenage girl and boy who were once nearby again nearby. I didn’t realize it until days later but when I acknowledged having had two accidents in the car that day, they might have also took it as me agreeing that I “always” had accidents on long car rides, which wasn’t true.
As their chit-chat continued Nicole then slide my panties down and I was now as naked as the 5-year old boy being diapered alongside me. Then she even berating me a little for not wiping better and then doing the whole leg-lift-spread-wipe thing (to more snickers of the two teenagers).
Pamela, her husband, their baby and their two older boys were about to leave but as the boys’ parents started chit-chatting with some other adults, the 9 and 10-year old boys plopped themselves down along side me.
Pamela’s mother-in-law then entered the room and asked Nicole, “Are you leaving? I want you to take some of this food home.”
Nicole stopped attending to me for a moment to answer, “Oh, no. Not for another hour or so.”
An hour? She was going to leave me in just a diaper for an hour? I got so nervous, I just couldn’t help it. I involuntarily squirted out some pee, the boys roaring in laughter, with the others in the room trying to contain their loud snickering and giggling.
Nicole berated me, told her mother-in-law, “See? She can’t control herself.”
Then turning to me, she said, “You’re going to stay in a diaper until you’re back with Pamela and if she’s smart, she’ll keep you in one the rest of the weekend.”
She then proceed to wipe me and clean me up. Within another minute or two, a clean diaper was fastened about me and Nicole had me stand up. Turning me away from the hallway where some guests were saying their good-byes (but unfortunately towards the now diaper-clad young boy, his mom and the two older teenagers), she then began brushing my hair before putting it back in their pig tails. I didn’t even bother covering my boobs, but merely closed my eyes in shame.
At this point, Pamela and her family left, but not before her two boys smirked and grinned ear to ear as they each gave me a hug, with Pamela insisting on the two of them standing on each side of me holding my hands for a photo op, my toplessness and being clad in only a diaper being preserved in time.
(Not that Pamela or Nicole would have spared me any embarrassment anyway, but three years later when my mom filed for divorce, my stepdad’s family wasn’t the least bit shy about sharing those photos with others as if to prove my immaturity: “Becky’s just a big cry-baby who hasn’t grown up. See? She still even wears diapers.”)
Nicole then instructed me to go sit in the other room with the “rest of the children”, which I did, having to walk past several snickering guests. Except for a pre-school boy, who like me was wearing just a diaper, all the seven or eight children in the room were fully dressed, aged between about three and eleven. They were all quite amused at the sight of a girl old enough to be babysitting them wearing nothing but a diaper, standing there topless facing them with my hands at my side as Nicole spoke to me. She then introduced me to each one of them.
One of the boys, who was about 11, asked her, “Why is she wearing a diaper?”
Nicole humiliated me by saying, “Because Becky is always wetting herself. She even had two accidents just in the car today,” inciting giggles all around me.
“Isn’t that right, Becky?”
After told to speak up with my answer, I blurted out, “Yes, that’s right,” causing all the kids to laugh at me.
Nicole then instructed me to sit on the floor with them so there I sat there, trying my best to keep my boobs covered and avoid eye contact with their smirking faces, making as little conversation with the other kids as possible. Periodically, departing guests came into the room to say good-bye, not particularly to me, but to the group of us “children.”
About fifty minutes after having been put in the diaper, Nicole came in with my dress, said we would be leaving soon and that I should put on my dress since the evening had a bit of a chill in the air now and she didn’t want me to catch cold outside or in the car. But not before she told me to laydown on my back on the carpet so she could check my diaper, which she did so by unpinning it and pulling it completely away from my body at both sides in front of the giggling kids who gathered around me. She also lifted my legs up high to check my bottom too before saying, “Good girl, Becky. No accidents – for a change.” But in any case, I pretty much felt like a girl who was otherwise still being potty-trained at that point.
Nicole then re-fastened my diaper, had me stand up and then she slipped my dress on over my head, leaving me with the smirking children who had just seen me totally denuded.
As it was Nicole ended up chit-chatting with other guests and by the time she and her husband were finally ready to leave over thirty more minutes had passed. She then called me over to her where she was sitting with a couple of guests and had me lift my dress above my waist so she could check my diaper – again! As I stood there, she unfastened my diaper and pulled it down to my knees. I heard snickering from behind me as well as seeing the grins on the guests I was facing before, their eyes focused downward, before they looked up to meet my eyes, before I faced away from them in shame. Satisfied, Nicole told me we’d be leaving in about ten minutes. Without telling her, I quickly found a bathroom and peed a little. I didn’t want any accidents in her car.
It was bad enough that Nicole’s two teenage sons had seen my stepdad pull down my panties to prepare to spank me (before being called away to do something else, sparing me the spanking) just several weeks earlier at a 4th of July family barbeque. The only thing more humiliating than that would be if her sons (who were several years older than me) saw her changing my diaper (the boys having been at some summer sports event and weren’t with us that day, but for all I knew could be back at Nicole’s house that evening). I was blushing just at the thought that they would soon learn what had happened to me that day as it was.
As it turned out I had no accidents in the car, they dropped me off at Pamela’s house and from that point on I assumed I’d be on my own to get ready for bed. That is until I was told I would need to sleep with the diaper on me. Pamela, understandably from her point of view, didn’t want me wetting the bed given the day’s events. After being asked, I even reluctantly said I understood why it was necessary.
But what I didn’t expect was a “diaper check” before I was to head upstairs to bed. Assuming that I had probably wet myself in the car, Pamela even instructed me to lay down on the baby blanket she laid down on the floor for a diaper changing – right in the smack center of the living room with her husband and two boys sitting there, her having already put the baby to bed.
Within moments I was denuded again, first my dress then, after I laid down, the safety pins of the nappy were unfastened. By this point after all that had transpired throughout the day, I made no effort to cover my boobs despite the intense embarrassment I felt.
“Good girl, Becky,” she announced to everyone, as the giggling boys stood there looking down at me. “No accidents this time.”
After re-fastening my diaper I then had to stand up, say goodnight and hug everyone before heading to bed.
I vowed that I’d get out of that stupid diaper as fast as I could in the morning. Unfortunately, being overly tired I never heard the alarm on Sunday morning and was awakened instead by Pamela who, after pulling off the covers, told me to come downstairs for breakfast. As I was – that is in just the diaper which she checked to see if it was wet. It wasn’t.
Regardless, it was still very difficult to look her husband and two young boys in the eye while sitting there at the table wearing nothing but a diaper. After breakfast, I was on my own to wash up and get dressed. At least Pamela didn’t keep me in a diaper during the daytime as well as Nicole had suggested.
But that night and the next, I was put back in a diaper several hours before bedtime. That turned out to be problematic (not to mention embarrassing) on Sunday night when unexpected company showed up just after I was put in the nappy.
Finally, by Tuesday evening I was back home. I was too ashamed to say anything to my mom or stepdad, and most especially to my two brothers.
Yet as embarrassing as it all was, I do realize and concede that Pamela was within her rights to do what she did, acting in loco parentis. I don’t think she needed to cause me further embarrassment once we inside at her in-laws house. But she acted perfectly reasonable by putting me in a diaper earlier for the rest of the drive there. I’ll even concede it was perfectly reasonably that I had to get out of the minivan topless, exposed and wearing nothing but a diaper in full view of those around until we were inside the house. All that embarrassment and shame, up to that point, was the cause of me peeing myself. It was no one else’s fault by mine.
It’s what happened after that which I don’t think was fair: Pamela introducing me to so many people while I stood there topless wearing nothing but a diaper; being changed out of my wet diaper, laying naked on top of a baby blanket on the floor, being wiped, as people watched. Being put back in a diaper for the ride back home, again with people watching.
Incredibly, in talking to parents who have diapered older children, some who even believe in using the diaper as a disciplinary tool, my humiliation would have lasted even longer and would have been worse than it was. Some even said that ANY child in diapers should have the bathroom made off-limits to them, meaning that’s what the diaper is for! OMG! And, if so, that would have meant multiple diaper changes throughout the day.
Some asked were there other kids in diapers that day and how they were changed. Yes, a few toddlers were, like Pamela’s youngest son. There was also a girl and a boy who were around 5 or 6 years of age (7 at most), the girl was the oldest of the two, each wearing only a diaper. They, like the toddlers, were all changed as needed throughout the day in the manner I was, on a baby blanket on the floor in a room off the entry way. (Probably a dozen or more other kids from that age to around mine were all fully clothed.)
Perhaps those who asked wanted to know if I was being singled out. Personally, I don’t think even a pre-school 4 or 5-year old should be running around in front of extended family and guests in just a diaper. But if a boy of that age is having accidents and his parents (or those acting in loco parentis) are OK with it, then fairness dictates so should a girl of that age be so scantily attired in nothing but a diaper if she is having accidents and her parents (or those acting in loco parentis) are OK with it, too.
My queasiness in reluctantly conceding that it’s OK, even if I don’t think they should, for parents (or those acting in loco parentis) making a 5-year old girl be dressed before extended family in nothing but a diaper and for her diaper to be changed openly in front of anyone who feels like watching is what to do about, for example, her 7-year old sibling or cousin? It really isn’t that much of a leap in years. Shouldn’t fairness dictate that if the 7-year old had an accident that she or he should be put in nothing but a diaper as well and changed out in the open, too? Saying a 7-year old shouldn’t be just because the child is but two or less years older than the 5-year old just doesn’t seem a good enough reason to give the 7-year old more concern for her or his modesty. I would prefer both be clothed over their diapers and changed in private. But that is no reason to treat each child differently.
But, if it is OK for a 7-year old, some might ask the question then why not subject a 13-year old, like me at the time, to being changed in front of guests and wear only a diaper in front of them as well? The 7-year old and I would both be of school age, yet both having had accidents. Where does one draw the line? Perhaps that’s why I feel a 4 and 5-year olds shouldn’t be wearing only a diaper and be changed in front of everyone. Because I know if I concede that point I’m admitting it would also be OK for a 7-year old school child to be in only a diaper. And with that I might as well admit then that my situation on that day back in 1999 was no different and that there was nothing wrong in putting me in just a diaper and changing me openly in front of guests in the same embarrassing fashion as the 5-year old boy.
For those of you who are parents and believe in making older children wear diapers after having a mere accident, how would you have dealt with the situation from the time I was about to get out of the car? Made me walk past guests like that? Quickly got me some normal clothes to put on or just a small t-shirt to cover my boobs? Kept me in just a diaper for the rest of the day? If so, would I at least be able to use the bathroom? Regardless, should I have been changed privately or openly?
Please feel free to leave a comment or to ask me follow-up questions.