PG 13 A Bedwetter Meets His Match
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A bedwetter meets his match


"Timmy! Do you need your diapers changed?" my mom called out from the kitchen.

I was sitting on the living room floor, playing with my train set and deeply immersed in loading the flatbed of one of the cars with some blocks. The last thing I wanted at the moment was to take time out to have my mom fussing around with me.

"No Mommy," I muttered, just loud enough so she would hear it and leave me alone.

In reality, the thick cloth diaper I was wearing was quite wet, but it was still warm in its clammy embrace and not particularly distracting to me. To be honest, I was so used to the feeling, I didn't even notice it anymore.

Today I was wearing a typical outfit, my t-shirt and sneakers, and my diapers and plastic pants. Since it was just the two of us, my mom rarely felt the need to put any shorts or pants on me, preferring the convenience of being able to change me more easily instead.

"Timmy--come over here and let me check you," she replied, her voice skeptical of my own response.

"Aww, Mom...," I whined, "I'm really busy."

My train set was super important to me and I really didn't want to get interrupted right at this time. And anyway, it wasn't like my situation couldn't wait.

"Timmy--you come over this instant, young man," she demanded, her voice more forceful now.

I sighed heavily and rose to my feet.

I wouldn't have dared defy her directly--ever since my dad left us, she had taken over the discipline side of their relationship and continued his practice of bare bottom spankings whenever I misbehaved.

Trudging into the kitchen, I stood only close enough to comply with the letter of her instructions, making sure she still had to reach over several feet to touch me.

She gave me a look of annoyance and stepping over, she bent down, squeezing the thick seat of my diapers and plastic pants before straightening up and fixing me with a stern gaze.

"When were you going to tell me you needed to be changed? Those diapers are soaked!"

Despite myself, I felt my cheeks reddening and I shook my shoulders, looking at the floor a little embarrassed.

"Come along Timmy--it looks like Mommy is going to have to change her little boy's diapers again."

I blushed deeply at her remark, realizing that it was rather childish of me. I was after all, fourteen years old, going on fifteen. I doubted many of my peers were still in diapers, even at night. As for me, I had been a bedwetter for as long as I could remember and now that my parents had split up, I was starting to wet during the day as well. My mom had responded by just changing my wet diapers in the morning and continuing with the practice during the day. By now, she'd packed away all my regular underwear and replaced them with an additional assortment of new plastic pants of various kinds.

Taking me by the hand, she led me into my bedroom where she sat me down on the changing table, a 3' x 3' raised padded surface that was covered with a practical layer of waterproof vinyl. It had been in the family for years and the infant style nursery print showed just how old it was.

I plopped myself down where I sat with a squish and my mom began tugging the clinging plastic pants down. Not feeling she had to be sensitive to any considerations of my age, she had bought them with an eye for variety, and so consequently, there were no two alike. Some were solid, some were clear, and some were in babyish prints of ducks, giraffes, and blocks. They crinkled as they came off my feet and she tossed them into a large, closed rubber container that served as my diaper pail. The brief moment required to open it caused a pungent, stale smell to escape, as if to serve as a tangible reminder that an incontinent, diaper dependant child was living in this room.

My mom was just about to unpin the saturated cotton cloth when we heard a female voice through the open window in the other room.

"Janice? Are you around?" she called out.

My mom craned her head around and called back to her.

"Come on in Denise, I'm here in Timmy's room, changing him."

My face turned three shades of red at her blunt announcement. How could she invite someone in to see me like this??

Since I had been home schooled by my mom, almost no one was aware that I wore diapers and since I had no siblings and few, if any friends, it seemed likely to me that it would always be that way. But now, the front door was opening and some strange woman was brazenly making her way down the hallway to our room.

"Mommy!" I squealed frantically, putting my hands before my front to deny her the chance to pull away the cloth of my diapers she was about to undo.

Ignoring my protests, she unpinned the one side and placed the bunny-headed safety pin beside me.

"Don't be silly, Timmy. Your diapers are wet and they need to be changed," she said matter-of-factly.

Just then, my mom's friend Denise rounded the corner and as soon as she took in the sight of me being changed like a baby, her jaw dropped in shock and surprise. Nevertheless, she quickly recovered and she placed both her slim hands on her hips as she looked down at me with a smug, superior expression.

She looked vaguely familiar, maybe one of my mom's friends I had met in the past but now that I was looking at her face to face, I could see how truly pretty she was. It made her staring at me all the more difficult to bear and I blushed furiously under her critical gaze.

"You look a little old to be wearing diapers, Timmy," she said accusingly, while stating the obvious.

My mom unpinned the other side and she pulled the thick, wet front of my diapers down before I could utter a response.

Suddenly, my miniscule penis and hairless balls came into view and I gasped with angst as Denise took them in view before I could cover them. Her giggle of amusement said it all and she put a feminine hand up to cover her beguiling grin.

My mom seemed oblivious of my predicament as she pulled the heavy wet cloth out from under me and deposited it in the diaper bin.

"I knew Timmy was a bedwetter but how long has he been wearing diapers during the day?" Denise asked.

"Oh, about six months now," my mom explained, "it started with some small accidents during the afternoon and then several times, he really wet his pants. I finally decided it would be best to just keep him in diapers and plastic panties around the clock."

Denise nodded in understanding while I sat there, desperately trying to hide my tiny, embarrassing genitals.

My mom continued the process like clockwork, squirting out a thick glob of diaper rash creme into her palm before abruptly raising my ankles unceremoniously and smearing it across my bashful bottom. My face and chest burned with shame at being seen like this and I tried bravely to fight back the tears that were brimming in my eyes.

This was so mortifying!!

As she lowered me back down, I felt my buns stick to the soft, thick layer of a fresh trio of diapers that had been placed under me. Since I was using both hands to steady myself, Denise was once more treated to an unobstructed view of my childish package.

"Doesn't he ever tell you when he has to go pee?" she asked pointedly, making me squirm uncomfortably before her.

My mom sighed as she sprinkled me with more baby powder than I really needed, filling the air around me with its uniquely babyish scent.

"Rarely," she replied tiredly, "I think he's just getting lazy and doesn't care if he has to look and smell like a baby all the time."

I wanted desperately to think of something to say in my defense but my cheeks were blazing with shame.

Denise paused for a moment as she looked me up and down with an appraising gaze.

"You know, I'd be willing to babysit him if you think it would give you a break."

Pulling the thick, bulky front of my diapers up, my mom began pinning the sides to re-secure it.

"That would be so kind of you," she said genuinely pleased at the offer, "Sometimes, he can be such a trial."

Denise reached down and picked up a pink pair of nursery print plastic baby pants to hand to my mom.

"I would be delighted," she said with a devious grin.


One week later...

My mom thrust her arms into the sleeves of her coat as she finished up my babysitting instructions for Denise;

"Timmy's bedtime is 8 30. He knows better than to get sassy but if he gives you any problems at all, or if you feel he's being disrespectful, I've left his paddle handy on the counter here."

While Denise nodded with her characteristic annoying smugness, my mom turned her attention to me directly.

"Timmy, you are to treat Denise's instructions like they are my own. If I hear you've been misbehaving, you can be sure you'll be going over my lap tomorrow morning, do you understand me?"

"Yes, Mommy," I replied sullenly.

"Good. She is in charge of you tonight and you are to do exactly as she says--do I make myself clear?"

My face burned with indignation at being treated so childishly.

"Yes, Mommy--I understand," I repeated, barely controlling my simmering anger.

"And you better watch that attitude Mister, or you'll be going to bed tonight with a very sore bottom," she warned as she picked up her purse and eyed me directly, daring me to defy her.

I pouted silently, my lower lip jutting out in frustration but I didn't say anything to argue with her.

Grabbing her keys, my mom left us and I was finally left alone with Denise. I had already finished dinner so I was hoping to play with my train set some more once I was left to my own devices.

"All right Timmy, let's get something clear," Denise said as she faced me and crossed her slim arms over her big breasts, "Your mommy might tolerate your wetting during the day but I definately won't. You are going to tell me when you have to go--before you have to go, so I can take you to the bathroom and take your diapers down for you. You're going to go potty like a big boy whether you like it or not. If I find you've wet your diapers without telling me, you're going to get a painful session with the paddle--you got it?"

I hated the fact that she was so much taller than I and as I looked up into her pretty, yet, unrelenting face, I strongly resented her superiority. I had no doubt she would make good on her threat and I also knew I'd be powerless to stand up to her.

Maybe it would have been better if she were ugly or heavy but she was neither. It was obvious she kept in good shape and in fact, she had come over wearing a workout outfit of a tight, clinging type that showed off her impressive physique. The thin, stretchy material of her pants clung to her perfectly shaped buns and her two piece halter had a plunging neckline that revealed a deep, sexy cleavage between her big, plump boobs.

I hated that she thought I was nothing but a diaper wetting sissy--under any other circumstances, I would have tried to flirt with her, however ridiculous a notion that might have been. As it was, she treated me like a childish seven year-old that needed constant supervision.

"I'm still waiting for an answer, Timmy," she said firmly.

"Yes Ma'am," I replied, biting back my resentment.

"All right, it's six o'clock right now. If you're good, I'll let you stay up until eight but if I get any attitude out of you, I'll be putting you to bed at seven instead. Do you understand?"

I bunched my fists at her arrogant, bossy attitude but I knew it would be foolish to challenge her openly.

"Yes Ma'am," I replied sourly.

"Allright, run along now, you can play with your toys for a while," she told me.

Too angry to respond, I turned on my heel and went into my bedroom where my train set was. Settling down there, I soon forgot all about my strict babysitter and I immersed myself in building a grand rail bridge across an imaginary chasm. Time flew by without notice and before I knew it, it was well past seven when Denise walked past my door.

"Timmy? Do you need to go potty?" she asked me.

I had completely forgotten about our previous discussion and now that she was inquiring, I suddenly became aware of the warm, guilty wetness between my legs. At sometime during my playing, I must have wet my diaper without even noticing it.

Turning to face her, my face reddened as I struggled to blurt out a convincing answer.

"N-no, Ma'am," I replied uncertainly.

Her finely shaped eyebrow raised in suspicion as she looked at me more closely.

"Timmy--if you're lying to me, your spanking will be even harder," she warned me severely.

"N-no--I-I didn't--I mean, I'm still dry," I lied blatantly.

It was obvious that she didn't believe me because she came over and reached down to check my diapers. Realizing she was about to catch me in my lie, I pulled back but not before she was able to slip a couple fingers inside the waistband of my diapers. I squealed in dismay as she felt the wetness and her facial expression darkened.

With an abruptness I wasn't prepared for, she snatched me by the wrist and pulled me to my feet. I couldn't believe how strong she was!

"Timmy--you've just earned yourself a nice hard, spanking over my lap," she hissed angrily.

Before I could respond, she hauled me out of the room and pulled me down the hallway, stopping only long enough to grab the wooden paddle my mom had left on the counter.

"No--no--no!" I cried frantically, even as she sat herself on an armless chair in the dining room.

Positioning me next to her, she reached towards my waist and began yanking down my clinging pink plastic pants.

"Wa-wait!" I squealed as I tried to stop her efforts. She responded by slapping my hands harshly and resuming her job with even greater determination. She tossed a kitchen towel over her lap to protect her outfit before rudely yanking me over it as well.

"Stop! Stop it!" I wailed, kicking and fighting her.

I felt her unpinning one side and then the other of my wet diapers before pulling them back and exposing my damp buns to the cool air. I knew the moment of my punishment was imminent but I was powerless to stop her. Biting my lip, I waved my hands before me and whined for her to stop but I quieted when I felt the smooth surface of the paddle rubbing against my bare bottom.

"Now you're going to find out what happens to little boys who wet their diapers," she told me firmly, "they get their sissy bottoms paddled."

Before I could utter a response, she raised the the paddle and swung it down hard against both cheeks, flattening them with a furious impact.


"OWWWW!!" I cried at the top of my lungs.

This was much harder than I was used to by my mom, although even her spankings were nothing to be dismissive about.


I immediately burst into tears and began sobbing uncontrollably as the paddle landed again and again on my damp, defenseless bottom. In no time at all, it went from pale, to bright pink and then a deep, cherry red. She held me firmly with one hand while wielding the instrument of my punishment with the other and applying it methodically to my hot, blazing buns. Each swat stung like buckshot and I kicked desperately, totally unable to escape her implacable retribution. Just when I thought she was going to smack one cheek, she'd swat the other one or give me two in quick succession, not giving me a chance to prepare or recover. I was crying like a baby and totally at her mercy except that at the moment, she wasn't showing me any mercy at all!

I kept waiting for her to get tired or slow down but she kept up a relentless rhythm, swatting my youthful bottom vigorously with complete impunity. I cried and sobbed, slapping the floor with my hands in frustration and pain but she only gripped me more firmly and continued delivering harsh, angry swats to my tenderized cheeks.

Suddenly, she jerked me to my feet and stood up herself, towering over me as she glared down at me sternly.

"Have you learned your lesson, sissy boy?" she demanded.

"Ye-yes!" I stammered, the hot tears streaming down my face.

Once again, the paddle swooped down and landed with a blistering impact against my deep red cheeks.


I bucked forward but was prevented from escaping by her iron grip of my wrist. I stamped my feet in place and danced miserably using my free hand to try and soothe the inferno on my rear.

Without another word, she roughly hauled me behind her, back down the hallway and into my room where she sat me down on my changing pad.

"Since you're acting like a little baby, I think it's going to be an early bedtime for you tonight," she told me.

Taking out another group of thick diapers, she lifted my legs long enough to slide them under my stinging, punished rump. I howled with pain as my buns came into contact with them, even though my mom used the softest diapers she could find. Powdering my hairless crotch liberally, Denise brought the diapers up between my legs and pinned them snugly in place on either side. My still damp, pink plastic panties were tangled around my left ankle and she simply pulled them up my skinny thighs and wrestled them into place over my bulging diapers while I whimpered like a baby.

"You'll probably be wetting your diapers within a couple hours so I don't see any need to change your plastic panties, Timmy," she explained.

I sobbed in shame as I realized she was probably right. Within a minute, I found myself being tucked into my bed, the crinkly waterproof mattress cover noisily following my every move.

Denise turned out the light and I was left to stare up at the ceiling, sniffling and clutching my teddy bear while I pondered my throbbing bottom that was roasting inside my fresh diaper.








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That baby sitter is blatantly cruel and vindictive!!!!!!!
nappy1: if you don't like such stories, then do not read it!!!
isn't it enough, what you have done with bettys page??? every story who was a little bit about spanking or humiliation was killed with your comments.
please do not the same here.

it IS fiction and NOT real.

Bobby: another lovely story from you. i (and at least one or two others here) like your writing very much.
Dear Baby Bobby, another lovely story. Your writing is getting better, too.
Hugs from Baby Jennie in Australia
This story has everything -- diapering, humiliation, and spanking by lovely ladies. It's well written, too.

- Sissy Desiree

Always thrilled to find another story by the famous Baby Bobby! This one is a bit of a break from tradition I'd say, with our poor protagonist already quite enthusiastic about being little and diapered. Personally I have a preference for the stories where the boys initially resent having to address their caregivers as Mommy and having to play with children's toys. The short format is nice. Thanks as always for sharing your lovely fantasies and ever more refined writing skills with us! :)
I really am a huge fan of your stories baby Bobby...please keep writing honey ;-)
Baby Bobby__
Many thanks and hugs to all my wonderful sissy friends here.  

Sometimes I get a random inspiration out of the blue and I bang out a story like this one, which was intended to be on the short side, rather than some epic effort (I have been known to be long winded at times).

I'm delighted that there are those of you who enjoy my occasional sissy tale. I hope to continue to meet your expectations in the future.

 Dear Baby Bobby, another lovely story. Your writing is getting better, too.
Hugs from Baby Jennie in Australia  

vry nice story
Me wuv thiz stowy!!!! Tho, it would had been nice wiff a bit mowe to read... otherwise it was great!
   please give us more??????   
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