How I Was Made Into a Diaper Slave

When I was living in New Jersey, we had a next door neighbor by the name of Mrs. Looper. She was a typical woman of the time with a husband that worked in the city and a house to mind. But the one thing that wasn't typical about her was that she didn't have children. So she and my mother could often be found talking over the low picket fence between our yards and she would always greet me when I was there.

"How is Jeremy today?" she would ask.

"Just fine, Mrs. Looper." I would reply.

I never knew what they were talking about at that fence for so long, but I noticed that Mrs. Looper often looked over at me as I raked the leaves or mowed the lawn. She had a pale face and reddish-brown hair and wore the bright red lipstick popular then. To me she was just another scary neighbor lady, but I soon found out a lot more about her.

My experiences with her began one Friday morning when I was on break from school and my mother asked me to go over to her house to help her with her yard. I guess she felt sorry for her since her husband was rarely home. I remember she smiled happily at the door when I arrived.

"I've heard what fellows like best is cake and ice cream! Is that true?!" she queried.

"Sure is!" I replied.

"Come." She said, as she led me into the house.

She sat me down on one of the chrome and padded vinyl chairs at the kitchen table as she took a large bowl of chocolate ice cream out of the freezer and then added a big slice of vanilla icing cake and set them in front of me. I ogled them both greedily. Then she came back and stuck a spoon in the ice cream. I looked up at her in excitement.

"Well! What are you waiting for?" she asked with surprise.

I just grinned and pulled a spoonful of chocolate ice cream up into my mouth. It landed on my tongue cold and sweet. Then I went right in for a clump of cake. It was all a sensory extravaganza. My mind forgot about work instantly. Mrs. Looper sat down at that point and watched me eat.

"How do you like it?" she asked.

"It's great. Thank you, Mrs. Looper." I replied as I wiped the chocolate off my mouth with the side of my hand.

This action seemed to horrify her.

"Oh Jeremy! No! Not with your hand!" she suddenly scolded, "I can't have chocolate all over my house!"

I stopped eating and sat there in stunned confusion as she stood up and pulled my chair back.

"Come to the bathroom." She said, putting a hand on my back to guide me as I got up.

We went into the bathroom and she proceeded to wash my hands in the sink. She seemed annoyed now. I only watched uncomfortably as she scrubbed my palms with a soaped up washcloth and then wiped around my mouth vigorously.

"This is why we have to have rules. If we don't have order, we can't be happy!" she continued.

I didn't know anything about her rules then, but I was about to find out. After a good minute of scrubbing, she dried my hands with one of her big, white, cotton towels, and then to my consternation, started pulling my T-shirt up and off of me.

"We need to get you in the bathtub and break you of these dirty habits!" she insisted.

I couldn't believe how quickly this visit was turning bad. I had just minutes before been in ice cream heaven, and now I was in bathtub hell!

"But I took a bath last night." I told her with a slight whine in my voice.

"Last night!" she exclaimed, "No! That won't do at all!"

Once she had my pants removed she started the bath. Then she pulled my underwear off and looked at them. Their whiteness didn't seem to meet with her approval.

"These will have to be washed as well." She announced, shaking her head.

She checked the water temperature with her hand and then turned back to me and guided me into the water by my arm. I suddenly felt like a kid as she sat me down in the warm water and loomed over me with a washcloth. She scrubbed my ears, neck and back, then under my arms. Next she went to my feet and then up my legs. After this she had me stand up as she worked my buttocks, belly and penis over. Then she rinsed me by taking clean water in her palms from the tap. She splashed it over my face and torso and washed the suds away until my skin glistened like a newly waxed car. After she pulled the plug out of the drain, she toweled me off and then let me step out onto the bathmat.

"There!" she said proudly, "Now you're clean!"

My apprehension was dissolving at this point and I even felt happy to please her. Being clean wasn't such a bad rule. But what would I wear now that she was washing my clothes? That thought made me nervous again. But my nerves increased when she led me into a room that had a bed with stuffed animals on it. She brought me to the bed and I sat down and covered myself with my hands while she went to her supply shelf. She returned with a cotton diaper and plastic pants which was what they used to stop urine leaks back then. My face started to burn as she approached me with them.

"What's that for?" I asked wide-eyed.

"This is what you'll have to wear while you're here, Jeremy."

"But I don't need it!" I tried to tell her.

"This is how we keep the house clean. Remember the rules?" she reminded.

"Yes, but..."

"No buts! Now lay back and be a good helper!"

I was mortified and started to shake, but I did as I was told remembering my mother's wishes.

As she slid the diaper beneath me I was terrified by what this could mean. What would my friends say if they ever found out! But they couldn't as long as I was here in her house. Yes, it would be okay if they never found out. After all, I was just following her rules.

She brought the cloth up between my legs and pinned it like a practiced caregiver. That's when I realized how soft and snug a diaper feels. Then she slid the plastic pants that looked like something a person would go swimming in over that. They crinkled and made me feel slightly less comfortable as they enclosed me. Then she went into a drawer and brought a pair of blue, one piece pajamas with feet over to me. She had me stand as she helped me into them one leg at a time.

"There!" she said as she zipped up the back, "Now Jeremy is all clean and dressed!"

I looked down at myself with hesitation. I noticed the diaper could be seen under the pajamas and the plastic pants made noise when I walked!

"So how long will I have to wear this?" I asked.

"Until you learn to be clean!" she replied.

Then she took my hand and guided me out to the kitchen as my plastic pants rustled loudly.

"I need to show you what I need done in the yard, Jeremy."

"What!" I protested, "But I'm in pajamas!"

"Yes, that's okay." She said.

"But...I'll get dirty." I tried to reason.

"No, you can wear your sneakers. Don't worry, Dear." She assured me.

My mind was seized with fear at this point.

"No!" I blurted.

"No? Jeremy, you don't want me to tell your mother about this, do you?" she threatened.

I wasn't sure what this meant. Would she tell my mother she was forced to put me in diapers because of my own fault? No, I couldn't face that. But why was she doing this? Didn't she understand that I didn't want to be seen like this?!

After she helped me put my sneakers on, she pulled me along to the back door. I stood in the threshold hesitating after she went out. Finally, she was able to guide me down the steps as I looked around self-consciously.

"You ready for the tour?"

With this she lead me by the hand out into the harsh world of light and judgment.

"Sorry, we can't have those padded feet getting dirty!" she said as she tapped her finger against my nose.

I felt a deep sweeping embarrassment now not only because I was in a diaper being lead around by my neighbor, but also because I had never felt this vulnerable with a stranger before.

"Let's take a walk to the back fence!" she suddenly announced.

When she said this my heart jumped. She seemed to be going out of her way to put me on display! She reached over and adjusted my pajamas several times as we went and I heard my plastic pants crinkle loudly each time.

"That's my good helper!" she praised as we now became completely visible to all the surrounding backyards on our street.

On our way to the back fence we came to a large maple tree and she stopped. She stood there for several minutes looking down at a metal crucifix in the ground next to the trunk. This stop only increased my discomfort and I whined a little with impatience.

"Shhhh! Don't be a rude Roger!" she scolded.

But all I could think about was my imminent discovery by my neighborhood friends.

As we arrived at the back fence I cowered. I could hear the voices of people calling out not too far away. And then two girls I knew came into view. "Oh my god!" I thought. I recognized them as the Doran sisters, but luckily they didn't look our way.

"How does my diaper man feel?" Mrs. Looper asked with her strange, red-lipped smile.

"I wanna go back inside!" I pleaded as I resisted her pulling hand, "I don't want to be seen like this!"

She seemed delighted by my struggles and discomfort. That's when I realized that that was just what she wanted. She was going to make me her own personal diaper slave! I started to protest after this. Just because I was in a weak position didn't give her the right to dress me anyway she liked and take me out anywhere without my permission.

"I think I want to show my new Jeremy to the world!" she then announced, "Let's go out to the front of the house!"

This is when I started to make a real fuss and I noticed the smile on her face broaden as I did.

"Is my Jeremy afraid everyone will see his diaper?" she teased as she put her arm around me.

This was it, I thought. She was going to show the world that I was her diaper slave now and I would be laughed at by the whole neighborhood!

I complained and resisted all the way as we headed for the side gate that led to the front yard, but she turned just before we reached it.

"Don't worry, Dear. I'll keep your secret!" she said as she smiled condescendingly at me.

A little while later we went back inside and she let me sit down on the couch. My face was still flushed with embarrassment so she sat next to me and put my head in her lap. She cupped one hand over my forehead and stroked my cheek with the other.

"It's okay, Jeremy. Mrs. Looper will take care of you." Was all she kept saying.

All I remember after that was her waking me up on that couch hours later.

"Your mother just called to check on you. Let's get changed into your nice, clean clothes now!" she said.

We went into the bathroom and she took my pajamas off and then my diaper. Then she took a damp washcloth and gave me a quick wipe down before getting me back into my underwear and regular clothes.

"So did you do good work for her?" I remember my mother asking when I got home.

I was too embarrassed to give her all the details of my day, but I did tell her how Mrs. Looper had washed my clothes and enforced all these clean rules thinking that would convince her not to send me back there, but my comments only seemed to increase my mother's good impression of her.

"Well, it sounds like Mrs. Looper runs a tight ship!" was all she said.

So henceforth, I was sent back to Mrs. Looper many more times, and I always suffered the same ritual of treatment: the bath, the washing of clothes, the diapering, and the walking in the yard. I eventually became used to it and on some level even started to see it as normal. But I think this dominant treatment was at least partly responsible for my resumption of bedwetting in the months that followed. Then one day I overheard my mother and Mrs. Looper talking at the fence and I heard my mother tell her about my newly developed wetting problem.

"I've heard this is common." Mrs. Looper commented, "They say diapers are the best cure."

Fear struck my heart at that moment, but the night wetting continued, discovered each morning by my vigilant mother.

And so it progressed until one day when I went over there and I had a real accident. Mrs. Looper had gotten me into a diaper and I had fallen asleep, but this time I awoke feeling a weird weight between my legs. I sat up and reached down to the source of the heaviness. Confirmation! It was the worst thing imaginable. I had lost control of my bowels and was now sitting in a pile of my own crap. I got up slowly and was forced to call out for help. Mrs. Looper came in quickly.

"I'm sorry, but I think I had an accident." Was all I could say.

I expected her to be disgusted by such a dirty act, especially in her house, but as she moved closer and smelled me, an expression of elation came over her face.

"Ohh! My Jeremy has made his first mess in his diaper!" she exclaimed, "What a wonderful day!"

If I was sick before, I soon became completely mortified as she reached down and shoved her hand up between my legs! The pressure of her fingers had the effect of compacting the waste that was there up towards its point of origin. It gave me a stuffy, nauseous feeling, and on top of this, I had to look into her weird, gleaming eyes as she celebrated the big event.

"I knew you would make me proud!" she went on.

I guess this was when the last vestige of my manly identity rebelled against her.

"I don't want to be your diaper slave anymore!" I shouted, "You're not my owner!"

"Shush now!" she replied as she continued to hold me firmly between the legs.

"Let me go! I wanna go home!" I shouted as I tried to pull away.

Her creepy smile then turned into a dark scowl.

"Do you want me to tell your mother about this?!" she threatened, "About what a diaper-wearing ingrate you are!"

"I don't care!" I shouted back.

"You don't care? What if I just throw you outside and let everyone know what a rude guest you are? Complaining and crying to get your way after pooping in your pants!"

"I don't care! Let me go!" I yelled.

"Okay, I'll take you outside. Let's go." She said as she started for the front door.

She put her hand on the door knob and started to pull it open. When I saw this I knew she was serious.

"I can just tell your mother she needs to send you to that vocational school of yours in diapers from now on. Then everyone will know about pampered Jeremy!" she threatened.

"No!" I yelled as I suddenly turned and started to resist being pulled outside.

"Yes!" she warned, "Everyone will know you're a diapered, little weakling!"

I argued and tried to pull away from her, but she managed to keep me in control. It seemed she loved to watch the conflict of my emotions as I struggled to accept this new harsh reality. I was fighting to retain my independence and selfhood and she was watching happily as those personal achievements were surrendered to her. She knew I was going to accept my new status without too much more resistance. I had already proven myself to be an obedient servant and now I was close to seeing it all her way.

"Did we get all of those complaints out of our system?" she asked in a mocking voice as she lead me slowly back into the darkness of the hallway.

At this point I was just walking with her and wimpering as she lead me along. Then we went into the blue bedroom and she pulled out a strange-looking red ball on a strap from a drawer. She put the ball in my mouth and fastened the strap to the back of my head. The final victory had been achieved, she saw, as I accepted the gag and it did its job of silencing me. She had her very own, compliant, diaper slave now.

"And you said you didn't need diapers! It looks like I was right all along!" she gloated.

After that she made me go out in the yard and rake her leaves with the ball gag still in place.

"Remember! I'll be watching from the window!" she warned, "Don't try anything cute!

And as a punishment for my little scene, she made me stay in that dirty diaper for the rest of my time there. I didn't make anymore scenes after that.

My mother thankfully never took Mrs. Looper's advice about getting diapers for me, but after a year she took me to a specialist to find out why I had become incontinent again. The tests all came back negative. There was no physical problem they could identify, but I already knew that. And my mother never made the connection between my sudden elimination problems and my visits to Mrs. Looper. It went on for years like this with her diapering me and giving me laxatives so I would have lots of accidents when I was there. I remember she would occasionally change me on the bathroom floor with that ball gag in my mouth as I peered up helplessly at her saggy, garter-belted stockings.

After a year I stopped speaking altogether when I was with her. I guess the gag cured me of that. I just assumed my alternate identity as her submissive servant automatically as soon as she put the diaper on me.

I actually became very close to her eventually, even though she had never really given me a choice in the matter. But as the years went by her husband started spending more time at home and my visits decreased. Then my mother found another neighbor for me to do work for who was a lot more in need of help.

Years later, however, I began to have a lot of problems with my personal relationships with women. There were many broken engagements and a few divorces and a lot of it was because of my sexual dysfunction. It seemed that after a while I was unable to fulfill my physical duties as a man and of course the women in my life took that personally. With many years of counseling I came to see that my sexuality was very much centered around my submissive self. In other words, I needed an expression of feminine dominance and mastery to achieve sexual pleasure. And that dominance always centered around diapers and servile themes.

It took five years of intense therapy to cure me, but I eventually turned my life around and got into a healthy relationship. Later it was suggested by my therapist that I confront the cause of my dysfunction, so I called my mother and asked her about Mrs. Looper. It turned out she was still living in that same house next door. I didn't tell my mother the details, just that I wanted to see her again to reminisce. That's when my mother said something strange.

"Did you know she had a miscarriage years ago?" she confided.

Yes, that made perfect sense to me, but why had my mother chosen this time to tell me? I thought back to them speaking over the fence when I was younger. Paranoid thoughts filled my mind. Had my mother loaned me to her as a consolation slave?

The following weekend I went to her house and was surprised to see she looked pretty much the same. We sat down at the kitchen table I had first eaten ice cream and cake from years earlier.

"So how have you been? Your mother tells me you're a successful publisher now." She started.

"Yeah, I have a company in Silicon Valley. Life's been good...mostly."

"And I would guess you have a wife and children?" she continued.

"I just remarried. I had a few practice runs." I cracked with forced humor.

"Oh, wonderful! You must bring her around sometime." Mrs. Looper insisted.

"Sure. I'll do that." I told her, "I'm sorry to hear about her husband."

"Well, it's been five years now, but I do okay."

I wasn't sure how to steer the conversation subtly to the time I worked for her, so I blurted out the first thought that came to me.

"Do you remember the first time I came here and you gave me ice cream and cake?" I tested her.

"Oh yes! And you got it all over everything!"

"Yeah! And then you washed me head to toe in the bathtub!"

"Oh my, that was quite a day!"

"Sure was." I said, my voice trailing off. "But I always wondered, why did you make me wear a diaper whenever I came here?"

Mrs. Looper went silent for a moment. Then she spoke.