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Road Trip Part I
Another trip to Connecticut meant 7 hours in the car. I really hated road trips, especially when they were long and boring. My parents only listened to country music - a genre I hated - and talked about our dire financial situation.
We drove a beat up Plymouth 1994 van that had done about 100,000 miles. We were going to see my grandparents who lived in Hartford, and I guess I was excited to see them, though I wasn’t sure the trip was worth staying there for the weekend - even if they were rich.
We very seldom stopped off for bathroom and food breaks on the road trips because my parents hated wasting time. When they wanted to get somewhere on time, they got there, regardless of the circumstances. I guess that’s why my parents make me wear diapers on these long trips we take. I hate wearing diapers, but if I refuse to wear them, my parents will punish me.
My parents happen to be incredibly overprotective, and are always on my back about everything I do. I swear, I’m literally treated like a baby. My mom makes me wear the one piece pajamas and has me drink warm milk before I go to bed. My bed time is around 8:00 and I’m not allowed to see any girls outside of school. It’s very embarrassing, and what’s worse is I am an 18 year old senior going to college next year; I know I’m no where ready to go.
We had packed and loaded the car the night before in order to leave early the next morning to avoid traffic. My mother woke me very early and told me she wanted to leave as soon as possible. Half dazed, I looked at her and saw she was holding what looked liked a big plastic bad, only with padding. It had only occurred to me about a minute later, after I expected my mother to leave and she didn’t, that it was a diaper. I started to moan and whine about how I was 18 years old and didn’t need to wear diapers for the car ride, but she wouldn’t hear of it.
She grabbed my arm and pulled me out of bed, pushing me onto the changing table in the corner of my room. I was resistant at first to get on, but she told me if I didn’t, there would be major consequences. I obliged and got on, tearful and crying that my mother was diapering me so early in the morning.
She fastened straps to both my hand and feet to secure me on the changing table in case I, for some reason, decided I didn’t want to be put in a diaper. I had been known to go a little crazy before when my mother put diapers on me, so I guess she didn’t want to take any chances.
My one piece pajamas were unbuttoned near my butt, exposing my white Hanes briefs. My mother wasted no time taking my feet out of the pajamas and slipping my underwear off. She powdered me thoroughly and then unfolded the crinkly diaper and fastened it around my waist. When she finally finished, loosened straps on the changing table, and allowed me to get up, I felt like I was restricted walking. I couldn’t put my legs completely together, not to mention that the diaper made a loud crinkling sound every time I walked. It was exactly like the sound of a patient moving around on the paper on the doctor’s examination table.
Because it was going to be a hot day, my mother laid out shorts for me and a tee shirt that looked skimpy. The shorts were red and were very short, and when I put them on, I realized that if people looked closely, they could see I was wearing a diaper. I was about to object, but realized that it was in my best interests to keep my mouth shut, unless I wanted a punishment, so I did.
When I finally got downstairs, I was greeted by a plate containing chopped up eggs with a fork on the side. Of course, the plate was in front of the high chair my parents made me sit in. It was part of my punishment for trying to sneak out of the house last week.
I climbed into my high chair and my mother was careful to secure the straps around my pelvis. She loosened the straps a bit because I was wearing a bulky diaper and tied a bib around my neck. She told me to eat fast or else we would be late and I did.
When I finished, we quickly hurried into the car and drove off en route to my grandparent’s house. It didn’t take long before my parents started a boring conversation about how they were going to pay the mortgage. Bored out of my mind, I sat shamefully sulking in the back seat.
We were even an hour into the trip before I had to go to the bathroom. It must have been all that lemonade I drank at breakfast. I told my parents I needed to go to the bathroom, and of course, they ignored me. I kept telling them and telling them until finally my mother said, “If you say another word, you will get a punishment.” Distressed and uncomfortable, I realized that there was no way my parents were going to pull over and let me go to the bathroom, so I relieved myself in my diapers.
Two hours later feeling very wet and irritated, I told my parents again that I needed to go to the bathroom, and again, my mother told me I was going to get a punishment if I wasn’t quiet. This time though, I had to poop, not pee. I began to cry in the backseat that I really wanted to go to the bathroom in a proper toilet, and my parents ignored me.
My mother eventually became sick of my crying and said, “all right, you just earned yourself a punishment.” Punishments were usually very humiliating and sometimes painful. I could only imagine what my mother had in store for me this time. Upset that I had been given a punishment, I started to cry louder, and didn’t even realize I was pooping in my diaper. I was having diarrhea and it smelled very bad.
Finally, between the crying and bad smell, my parents pulled into a rest area. My mother gave me explicit commands to get out of the car and come with her. I was still crying loudly, and by now was attracting a lot of attention. She held my arm firmly and pulled me into the ladies room, ordering me to stand outside the stall with my diaper bag in my hands while she did her business.
When she finished, she grabbed my arm and took me to the diaper changing station near the entrance of the ladies bathroom. I was really embarrassed about being changed in front of all the women in the bathroom, and began to cry louder. My mother yelled at me and told me if I didn’t do as she said, she would make my punishment doubly horrible. Still crying, I got onto the changing table and my mother strapped me in.
There were a halo of women surrounding me, watching the scene I was making and about to watch me have my diaper changed by my mother. It didn’t help that the changing table was visible outside the open door of the ladies room, so some of the children and men were also watching me as I threw my fit. My mother completely ignored everyone who was watching and focused simply on me.
She fastened the strap around my waist and began to tug aggressively at my shorts, struggling to get them off. I was fighting her because I didn’t want to have a change and she began to spank me very hard on my butt. The diarrhea I had was beginning to spread to my penis and testicles and even up my back. It burned horribly that I figured it wasn’t worth it to keep fighting; I would just led my mother change me.
That didn’t stop me from crying though, and when my mother finally got my shorts off, everyone could see the mess I had made. My diaper was a deep colored brown with a noticeable blotch of yellow near my genital area. My mother wasted no time removing the tapes, exposing my penis and butt to everyone who was watching, and the poop that covered them.
My mother took out a wipe from the container and furiously wiped my bum and penis. The burning was horrible and I was crying very loud and apparently attracting many more spectators. There must have been fifty people watching the scene.
It took about ten wipes up and down my backside and around my penis to finally clean me. My mother took the tube of diaper cream from the diaper bag and generously applied it to my private parts and butt. She even put her finger in my butt to make sure there was cream inside. The cream gave temporary relief, but I was still in a lot of pain.
Just as I thought the torture was about to be over, I felt a hard smack on my bum. I wailed out in agony, bawling at the top of my lungs. My mother was spanking me, spanking me in front of all these strangers. Everyone was completely silent except me. My mother screamed, “that’s what you get for not listening, how dare you disobey me.”
She gave me twenty hard spanks on my butt and five on my testicles. I continued to scream really loudly, wincing in pain and waiving my arms frantically in the air. Finally, after the brutality stopped, my mother opened a fresh diaper and put it on me. She fastened it securely around my waist, unlatched the straps, and told me to get up. She didn’t even bother putting on my shorts, and was maked to take of my shirt because it had a poop stain on it.
Forcefully grabbing me by the hand, she led me out of the rest area to the car. A procession of people followed. She threw me into the car and strapped me in, and we quickly drove away towards grandmas. I was still crying in the back of the car, but not as loudly as before. I had been completely humiliated in front of everybody.
Afraid to even open my mouth for anything, I sat there in silence in only a diaper for the remainder of the ride. My mother threw a bottle of warm milk at me periodically, telling me to drink it and not to say a word; and of course I obeyed.
I thankfully slept for the last part of the ride. When my mother woke me to tell me we were there, I realized I was uncomfortable. I felt my diaper and realized I had had another accident - diarrhea. I started panicking because I was afraid my grandparents were going to find out I was wearing diapers, because there was no way my mother was going to let me change myself. Plus my grandparents had numerous guests at the house when we arrived.
TO BE CONTINUED - STAY TUNED FOR PART II
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