Fraternity Diaper: Part III

CWIS'S NOTE: I have edited this for clarity, but not much for content. With the exception of changing or removing some names, everything you're about to read was submitted by a friend of mine, a recent graduate of the University of Buffalo now living in Rochester, NY. He's not an AB, but he's done a little abysitting. He also wore a diaper for a weekend, which is what this two-part story is about. Enjoy...

FRATERNITY DIAPER: PART III

When you think about Hell Week, you think of a week of absolute humiliation and torture followed by a weekend of inebriated craziness. Alcohol poisoning. Death.

Which is the way hazing used to be. But not anymore.

Not at [EDITED] College, anyway. Despite the nonchalantness of the older brothers, at most schools there is a fear of being caught hazing. Of having restrictions placed on chapters, of having charters revoked. Nobody gives a fuck about going to jail, but nobody wants to lose their fraternity. If it didn't mean so fucking much, they wouldn't go through humiliation to become a part of it.

So, for us, Hell Week became Hell Weekend. The week involved chores and early bedtimes, and barely leaving our rooms. Hell Weekend involved... mystery.

On Thursday we'd spent the day being slightly embarassed across campus. Just embarassing enough to entertain the campus and make us look like retards; not bad enough to look like hazing.

On Friday we'd spend the day going to classes, and then would report back to the house. Nobody would leave for the weekend. We hadn't been told much, but we'd been told it was Hell Weekend. We knew we were in store for... something.

At class on Friday I overheard several people in my public speaking class talking about my frat. I listened intently, but only caught bits and pieces. It seemed that they thought they'd be going to a party at the house on Saturday night. Doubtful, I thought; we're going to be getting tortured all day Saturday. Still, I wondered if there was a party being planned when I overheard a different group talking about it on my way to my next class. Hmm. There was always enough beer to have a party...

I spent Friday afternoon in my room, sitting, waiting to be called out. I was joined by several of my fellow pledges, and there was tension and silence so thick you could cut it with a knife. Everyone wondered what was in store for us. I kept playing back scenes from Animal House, Dead Poet's Society, and other movies in my head. I kept thinking of my mother, who spent my entire high school career keeping me from drinking, finding out her little boy had died of alcohol poisoning. I'm not very religious, but I did spend a few minutes on my knees Friday afternoon.

On Friday at about 6 p.m. we were called out for dinner. We were told to dress up. I wondered how they expected us to do that, since nobody had been given much time to get stuff. I certainly hadn't grabbed a dressy outfit.

One big group, we were all directed to sit at the kitchen table together. One pledge was wearing a tie, another a button-down shirt. The rest of us looked just like we always did...

We'd become accustomed to eating dinner in our rooms, or in small groups, eating peanut butter sandwiches while we served the brothers actual food. So to be sat at the dining room table, one big group, was feeling pretty good. Like we'd arrived.

In front of us were place settings consisting of giant white China plates and, on top of them, little silver domes. I pictures this stuff coming with the mansion with the original owners. My mother had fine China, but this stuff was... exquisite.

At each place was a full setting of silverware, as well, complete with two spoons, three forks, a knife, and some little tiny fork across the top of the plate. Water goblets rounded out the place setting. I secretly wondered if we were skipping Hell Weekend and going right to brotherhood...

The brothers filed in and stood around us.

"Welcome to dinner, gentlemen," announced Darren. "You've spent the week serving us, and we appreciate that." (Laughter from the other brothers). "We know we're no piece of cake. No picnic. So tonight we'd like to return the favor. Tonight we'll be serving you dinner."

Smiles all around.

"This is exciting," Darren exclaimed. Heads nodded.

"Mark, very nice tie," Mark, another brother, said to the only pledge who had dressed up. "We Marks, we really know how to do it up. Everyone else... no ties?"

"Sir, we didn't really have time to - " one pledge began, but Mark cut him off with a waive of his hand.

"Hands raised, please."

The pledge's hand went up.

"Yes?"

"Sir, we really didn't have time to get ties, sir," the pledge repeated.

"You can't come to a formal dinner not dressed for it," Darren broke in. We pledges looked at each other, bewildered, and the brothers chuckled. "Get undressed."

If we thought we were confused a few minutes before, we were really confused now.

We sat around the table looking at each other.

"Undressed, now!" Darren said, forcefully. One by one we began taking our shirts off, wadding them up and siting with them on our laps. He waited. I stood up slowly, unbuckled my belt, and began to take down my pants. I went slowly, waiting to be told to stop. I wasn't, and as the others followed I realized we'd be sitting around in our underwear. Hmm.

We soon were seated in our boxers, holding our pants and shirts. All but Mark, who'd been allowed to remain dressed. I was irritated, was he already getting points above the rest of us? I wanted #1 spot. FUCK!

"Un-dressed."

I realized that we were going to be eating dinner naked about the same time everyone else did. Faces red as fuck, each of us stood and removed our underwear, and then our socks. Soon we were sitting, bare-assed, a dozen embarassed frat pledges. Is this even hygienic? I was thinking...

"Joachim, would you bring out their outfits for the weekend?"

Another brother, Joachim, retrieved a large box from the kitchen. He walked around the table, pulling out items and placing them in the hands of each pledge. It took me seeing him doing it four or five times before I figured out what we were going to be wearing: huge diapers. WTF! I'd seen these in movies before, but I was hoping we'd be spared...

Once each of us were holding a diaper we were instructed to throw our clothes onto the floor behind us, and then put them on.

Have you ever put on a huge diaper by yourself?

Actually, judging by my audience, you probably have! Hahaha.

I hadn't. And I struggled like a bitch! Seriously... I stood up, trying not to let my cock swing around too much, and held the top of the diaper by my navel. I couldn't figure out which end was which, and was about to tape it with the tapes in the back when I remembered having actually changed a baby diaper; the tapes go in the front. I reversed the thing and tried to put it on. I'm holding the front up over my cock, and I couldn't get a grip on the back. Then I grabbed the back and held on, but my cock flopped and pushed the front down. Jesus... I hoped we weren't getting points based on self-diapering speed.

I was reassured by the fact that everyone else seemed to be struggling too.

After a few minutes I was wearing the thing, seated back at my seat. Faces were red and nobody was comfortable. Any joy we'd been taking in being served a big, formal dinner was pretty much gone.

"This is what you'll be wearing this weekend," Darren said. "Not the same diaper all weekend. But diapers all weekend. Any questions?"

None.

"Dinner time," he said, picking up a silver bell and ringing it. With that the brothers stepped around behind us, putting their hands on our shoulders. I shivered - it was cold, and I wasn't used to having another dude put his hands on me while I was wearing just a diaper. (Ah, the irony!) Darren nodded, and each brother reached forward, grabbing our little silver domes in unison. They lifted them and revealed: dinner.

Gerber fucking baby food. In little jars.

WTF!

"You were probably hoping for prime rib," Spencer, another brother, said, smiling. "Sorry..."

We each looked at each other, and around at the food set out before us. I had peas. I remembered my mother telling a story about how I'd puked peas all over her as a baby. And, before me, a jar of fucking peas.

"You can't have a delicious dinner without drinks!" Spencer said enthusiastically, and on cute a brother walked out with a big silver tray - of baby bottles.

Seriously; baby bottles.

"Anyone ever had a White Russian?" Spencer asked. Several of the pledges around me nodded vigorously, and one shouted out "Hell yeah!" Spencer laughed. "Greatttt! Well, tonight you're having... baby formula." The baby bottles were in front of us now. Dinner would be peas and formula. In diapers.

Not what I'd been expecting.

Surprisingly, I didn't throw up. Dry heaves but... no vomit.

Go me.

After dinner we were sent to our rooms.

And directly to bed.

I lay silently, in my diaper, trying to sleep.

The motherfucker made NOISE!

Every time I moved just a little, it sounded like a fucking piece of tinfoil being wadded up.

I quivered my asscheeks just a little bit. NOISE. I rolled over onto my stomach. NOISE.

I realized that everyone else was pretty much doing what I was doing. Squeezing cheeks, rolling around, rubbing our cocks, and listening.

Annoying!

After thirty minutes of noise-interrupted silence, someone finally said it.

"So guys... I have to piss!"

It came as a whisper, but I realized, as soon as I heard it, that I had to piss, too.

We were wearing diapers, and only diapers. And we had to piss.

Nobody said it, but I imagined we were all thinking it: would we be allowed to piss?

I hoped so!

I pictured myself laying in bed in a big Depends diaper soaking in my own urine. DISGUSTING. I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep. I might throw up.

And then it hit me...

I was going to have to take a crap, too.

It wasn't even 9 p.m. yet. No way I was making it to the next morning.

Oh... my... GOD!

The pledge who'd whispered that he had to piss got up and tiptoed to the door. A brother was on him immediately, and we all listened to him ask, humbly, if he could go to the bathroom. Sir.

"Haha," the brother replied. "You thought we were going to make you go in your diapers, did you?"

Pause...

"Wasn't... sure... sir."

"No, you're all right. You know where the bathroom is."

Inside the bedroom we each breathed a sigh of relief.

A few minutes later the pledge was back.

He lay down, his diaper making the tinfoil noise.

"I have to go too," I whispered. "Which bathroom?"

"Doesn't matter," he whispered back. "They're locked. All of them."

FUCK...

Every single one of us woke up in our own piss. Some of us had tried to hold out, but nobody was successful. I'd lasted until about 5 a.m., but I was exhausted and eventually just said fuck it. I'd pissed so much the diaper had leaked onto the mattress. I wondered if that would affect my ranking.

Breakfast was dry cheerios and milk. We were prohibited from pouring the milk into the Cheerios. It was an interesting breakfast.

Shower time was next, and I have never been so relieved to use a toilet before. I shit until I couldn't shit no more. And then I shit again. Pissed, too. And then showered. I scrubbed my dick, balls, and ass like it was infested. I'd been covered in my own piss for three, four hours. I was getting clean!

We'd thought our time in diapers was over, but... we were wrong. Waiting for us after the shower was... another diaper. My face must have fallen, because Elias started laughing when he saw it. I shook my head. This time, though, I put the thing on in half the time. It fit better, too.

We were directed to go into the foyer and sit. If anyone had walked into the house at that moment we would have looked pretty crazy, a group of thirteen college students in diapers and a group of more than twenty in boxers, t's, and whatever else.

A brother flipped on the TV and turned it to the cartoon channel. We sat there in silence, watching cartoons, and the irony wasn't lost on me: a group of diaper-clad college kids watching Saturday morning cartoons. Time machine?

After thirty minutes the rest of the brothers came into the room, and the TV was turned off.

An announcement was made: the house was holding a party - tonight - and the "little brothers" were hosting it.

"There are thirteen of you," one brother told us. "The same number we started with. We've never had that happen before. So I'm here to tell you... all of you who make it through this weekend will have a spot in this fraternity. We are proud of you. Nobody will be kicked out at this point. Some may quit, and that's fine. But if you don't quit, you're in."

HUGE, HUGE SMILES.

"Now, what place you get... that gets decided tonight."

NERVOUS GLANCES.

"Let's take a tour of the house."

The brothers led us around the house, showing us the rooms we'd be living in.

Huge room, king sized bed, with a water view and a big screen. Huge room with two queen beds and a plasma. Large room, one bed. Medium-sized room, one bed. Small room, two beds. Closet, two beds.

And then... a large back room used for storage. Two fold-out cots, a toddler bed, and a sleeping bag on the floor.

"We weren't expecting all of you," Scott, a senior, told us. "My suggestion is... don't be in last place. You won't even get a bed."

"A toddler bed," one brother said, laughing. "That's funny. Where the FUCK did we find that shit?"

All of the brothers laughed. All of the pledges didn't.

"We won't wind up with thirteen," another brother predicted. "Someone will quit. Probably a few someones. I predict ten... it is Hell Weekend, you know."

We spent the day on our hands and knees, scrubbing floors and polishing baseboards, in a scene straight out of every frat boy movie you've ever seen.

Dressed in diapers, and occasionally pissing ourselves, we were a fairly embarassed group.

Still, it wasn't as bad as the movies. We were bossed around, but there was no licking shoes. No crawling around with paddles attached to our hands. No groveling. We were actually treated with respect, really.

The worst, though, was yet to come...

At 4 p.m. we were treated to more baby food. I got apple this time, which I actually found kind of tasty - although I didn't let it show. Someone hurled his peas - haha, sucker - and one dude looked like he was going to refuse to eat, but then chowed down at the last minute. Pussy. No baby bottles with dinner; we were given huge glasses and every kind of soda you can think of spread out before us. It occurred to me that we were still wearing diapers, and what comes in must come out, so I poured just a little and took small sips. This would prove to be a good choice...

At 4:20 we were sitting at the table when the brothers walked in. They each had baby blue cloths in their hands, and each walked around behind us, one by one. On cue they leaned forward and held the cloths in front of us. They were bibs, and before we knew it we were each wearing one - baby blue bibs embroidered with our frat's Greek letters.

"Cute," said one of the brothers, and the rest laughed.

"I always wanted a little brother," said another.

"Diapers off!"

At once we were up and removing our diapers. I was relieved; mine was wet, and I was very uncomfortable. We'd been allowed to use the toilet throughout the day if we had to shit, but we had to do a fifteen minute wall sit. I'd held it.

"Brothers, diaper your pledges," Spencer announced. My 'big brother' was on me within seconds. He motioned for me to come with him, and we walked upstairs to his room, a large single on the third floor facing the lake.

"Nice room, sir," I told him.

"You're Unworthy of this room," he told me, a serious look on his face. Then he burst out laughing. "Dude, go take a dump. Hurry." He pointed to his bathroom and I did, hustling in, shitting, wiping, washing, and coming back out. He pointed to his bed and I sat down on it. He took my feet in his hands and pushed them up above my head, forcing me to lay back. This was as close to a homoerotic experience as I'd ever had, and I was pretty fucking nervous. Was he going to stick something up my ass?

Instead, Zachary forced the diaper he was holding up underneath my ass. He sprinkled baby powder all over me and folded the diaper over my dick, taping it tightly, and pulling me back up into a sitting position.

"You need to be comfortable, because tonight is the night you earn a room like mine," he told me. "I started out at #4, but #2 got kicked out of school, and I'm #3 in my class. I want you to be in the same position I'm in."

"Thank you, SIR!" I said, meaning it. I thought our big brothers were supposed to torture us. Mine seemed pretty cool.

"I'm going to give you a hint," he told me. "Don't try to outsmart us and be first. It's not worth it. And... don't quit. You'll be glad you didn't."

"I don't understand," I replied, but he just smiled.

"You will. Let's go downstairs..."

"Party's at seven," Spencer announced once we were all sitting on the floor again. "Your jobs will be assigned to you shortly. There are a few rules. Number one: our names are SIR. Number two: your names are UNWORTHY. And number three: nobody should have to ask you twice for anything. Any questions?"

"No, SIR," collectively.

"Lie on your stomachs," he ordered, and we all complied. He walked through the room as we lay silently, rubbing something across the back of our diapers. I glanced over as he was standing over the kid next to me. He had a marker, and he was writing something. Or, more accurately, signing something.

"I've signed your diapers," he announced when he was finished. "Nobody here can replicate my signature, and if anyone ever tries, they're done with [EDITED]. Your diapers don't come off until I take them off. Your bibs don't come off until I take them off. And your bonnets... the same."

Bonnets?

I saw a big box on the table and realized... yes, bonnets.

"Here's how it works," the brother continued. "You are all wearing a diaper. Now the contest begins. You will now become... the Dirty Dozen."

Laughter. I remembered this had been mentioned a week ago.

"You will drink what we give you. You will eat what we give you. And you will not be allowed to use the toilet. Any questions so far?"

NO SIR...

"He who drops a load in his diaper first is Brother #2. From there, the numbers go in reverse order. He who goes second is #13. The third pooper is #12. Are you guys catching the pattern?"

YES, SIR...

"If you use the toilet, you've quit the fraternity. If you sneak your snake out to piss, you've quit the fraternity. And if you take your diaper off before this weekend is over, the weekend is over. Questions?

NO, SIR...

But I had questions.

Starting with... WHAT THE FUCK???

We were going to be defacating on ourselves?

To join a frat?

For real?

Shitting on ourselves? And then prohibited from taking off our dirty, disgusting diapers?

This was fucking GAY!

I'd gone through a week of strictness and a day of humiliation only to find out I'd have to shit in my own pants to get a good room.

Or, more accurately, not shitting to get a good room.

This was... sick.

The brother had finished with the rules and there were no questions. And then it hit me. Not only would I be wearing a diaper... I'd be serving upperclassmen coming to a party. At our fucking frat house.

Me. A diaper. Possible fecal matter. And people from across campus.

Seriously?

For the first time I began thinking about quitting.

My job was assigned: I was to stand in the foyer and give people directions to the various rooms of the house.

I was to say "Sir, ma'am" to everyone.

And take sit-down breaks only when given permission. By a brother.

Not only would I be diapered... I'd be front and center.

I was feeling sorry for myself, until I heard James' assignment: stand out on the porch and welcome everyone to the party.

Yeah, I could handle inside.

"Ready to begin?" a brother asked. Everyone nodded and, on command, stood up.

"Hell... Weekend... Has... Begun!"

Within seconds three hands shot up.

"I pooped, sir," said James. Proudly. I couldn't help but laugh... James was happy to have shit in his pants. Wow.

"Congratualations, James" Spenser shouted, and the brothers all clapped. "Gentleman, you are looking at Brother #2!"

Irony... #2? Yeah.

"Ummmmm... sir..." stammered Tommy, another pledge. "I actually did, too."

"Did what?" Spenser asked. Tommy was red as fuck and didn't look proud.

"I pooped, sir."

I looked at Zachary, who looked at me. THANK YOU, SIR I mouthed. He nodded and smiled. I realized what he'd meant about not trying to smart anyone to be first.

"You pooped?" Spenser asked? "Come here, let me see."

Tommy walked over to Spenser. It was clear from the mound in the back of his diaper he had, indeed, shitted. But still, Spenser reached down, put his hand on Tom's diaper, and rubbed it all around. I imagined the shit going everywhere. I thought I might throw up.

"You did, indeed, Thomas," Spenser announced. And then, without missing a beat, he announced: "GENTLEMEN... MEET BROTHER NUMBER... THIRTEEN!"

Tommy looked around. Nobody was clapping. He looked sick.

I looked over at the third hand. This dude looked sick, too. And angry. Within seconds, all eyes were on him.

"Sir, I actually think I did it first," he stammered.

"Did what first?" Spenser asked him innocently.

"Shit in my fucking shit, dude," the kid blurted out. All respect was gone now. He was angry.

"You did what in your fucking what?" Spenser asked, and other brothers began to laugh.

"Yo, I shit before you even said it started!" the kid shouted. Spenser looked at the other brothers, and then at us, and then back at the boy.

"GENTLEMEN... MEET... BROTHER NUMBER... THIRTEEN!"

The kid stomped out the front door, slamming it behind him. People chuckled and I wondered how long it would take him to realize he was in a shitty diaper, with no dorm keys, before he'd return.

"Brother number twelve, take your position!" Spenser shouted, looking at the formerly #13. "Everyone else... it's GO TIME!"

I knew my mission. No matter what else I did... I had to not poop.

I was going to be #1... or at least #3 or 4. I wanted Spenser status. I wanted to be like my big brother. I wanted that sick room.

TO BE CONTINUED...