Growing Up: Trevor - Part I

[CWIS'S NOTE] Up today I have a guest entry from Trevor, a 19yo collegebaby I've recently gotten to know.

This story has some elements of ABDL fantasy to it, but I've heard it in detail several times, including in person, so I believe it to be true. Just remember, this is only part I... you have to read the other parts to understand how the story really turns out.



GROWING UP: TREVOR - PART I

When I was 14, my parents decided to sit down and have "the talk."

You probably know exactly what one I'm taking about...

School had just let out for the summer. My brothers and I had gone to visit my grandparents for the weekend, and when we came back my grandparents dropped me off at the house, but last-minute told my brothers they needed to take them somewhere for an hour or two. I remember thinking that was odd, because they always took us places in threes. Still, my birthday was coming up in a few weeks, and I remember thinking maybe they were doing something to surprise me.

Turns out the surprise was waiting at the dining room table: my mother and father, sitting with very serious looks on their faces, telling me that we needed to talk. Damn.

They had found my stash of diapers, pacifiers, and a baby bottle. I had also cut out some very babyish AB/DL pictures I'd printed off from the internet. Fortunately for me these pictures were fairly tame, not very sexual graphic. Still, my parents were, for lack of a better word, alarmed.

I should mention that my father is a police officer, and my mother works for the 911 center in our city as a dispatcher. They were both in the military, and they were pretty strict parents, but they love me and my brothers.

They asked me to sit down, and I did. Then, from out of nowhere, my father whipped out one of my diapers and put it on the table. He and my mother looked at each other, and then looked at me. Nobody said anything, but I could feel my face getting beet red.

I took a good hard look at the diaper, praying that it was not a used one. It looked to neat to have been used - thank God. Still, it looked ridiculously huge sitting up on the table.

My mother spoke first.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" she asked me.

Truthfully, I had no idea what to say.

"Where'd that come from?" I asked.

She and my father looked at each other, and then my father spoke next.

"From the box underneath your bed," he told me. I feigned a look of confusion, so he continued, "you know, the one with all the diapers and baby stuff."

"Oh."

My face was probably even redder, and I still had no idea what to say.

"You owe your mother an apology," my dad continued. "She put her hands in the garbage to pull something out, and she grabbed a handful of your urine-soaked diaper instead. That's just... not what anyone wants to feel when they reach into a trashcan."

"I'm sorry," I told her, not even able to make eye contact.

Face. Way. Redder.

But leave it to my father to act like people reach into the trash can on a regular basis like it's nothing... really, Dad?

"Now you have to make a choice," she told me, looking very serious. For a minute I thought they might be kicking me out. At 14.

"A... choice?"

"You need to decide if you want to stay in diapers," said my father, "or if you've outgrown them."

My father's statement hit me like a ton of bricks. I totally and completely expected them to tell me that they had taken my diapers and thrown them in the trash. What was he even talking about?

"You didn't throw them away?" I asked.

"No, it seems as though you need them," said my mother. "I mean, you are using them and all." My father and my mother looked at each other and my father nodded, as if to offer my mother some encouragement.

"We aren't quite sure how the pacifier and the baby bottle play into all of this," my mother continued. "But to each his own, I guess?"

I'd gone from feeling embarrassed to feeling grateful. I couldn't believe my luck. I parents seemed to be take in this amazingly well! For a moment I regretted having kept it such a secret.

I should have known it was too good to be true.

"Most boys your age move past the diaper stage," said my father. I wondered if they had rehearsed this entire monologue. It seemed like they had. "Most boys your age don't want to use pacifiers or baby bottles or rattles anymore. But some boys mature at a much slower rate..."

Wait... rattles?! What?

"So your choice is going to be continuing to be in diapers, or giving them up," my father said. "We'll give you until bedtime to decide. Go to your room and think it over."

I didn't need to think about it, I told them. I started to tell them I intended to stay wearing diapers, but my father cut me off and told me to go to my room anyway.

I went to my room and lay down on my bed. I was scared, yet excited at the same time. I slowly, expectantly reached underneath my bed, to feel for my box of diaper supplies. I felt it, and a smile crept onto my face - they really hadn't taken them. Whoop whoop!!

I lay in my room for an hour or so. It was only lunchtime - did they really think I need it until nightfall to decide this? Pfffft.

After another hour went by I heard my grandparents Cadillac pull into the driveway. My brothers voices became louder, and I could hear my grandparents too. It was pretty obvious everybody was having lunch - I could even hear the glasses clinking downstairs. I was hungry also. After a little while I yelled out to my parents. I heard my mother walking up the stairs. A moment later she was at my door.

"What do you need, Trevor?" she asked me.

"I'm hungry," I told her. "Isn't everyone eating?"

"Your grandparents brought pizza," she told me. "I'll bring you lunch in a couple of minutes," she said. She turned and walked back down the stairs, and I remember feeling annoyed. We weren't even supposed to eat in our rooms, and I wanted to come down and eat with everyone else. Wtf. I contemplated just walking downstairs, since they hadn't told me I was restricted to my room or anything, but thought better of it.

A minute later my mother was back in my doorway. Except she didn't have a plate full of pizza. She had a Snackable lunch, and a baby bottle.

My face was probably as red as it could possibly be, and when she set these items down on my desk I didn't even know what to say to question her. Instead, I tried defiance.

"Well, I also have to pee."

I wasn't prepared for what came next. My mother looked at me with a dead serious look on her face and pointed to underneath my bed.

"Isn't your box right there?"

Long pause...

"Well... yea... but I wanted to come down and... go."

My mother smiled.

"So you've decided you DON'T need them?"

Sigh...

"I'm not sure yet," I lied.

"Well, take your time," she told me. "But if you decide you don't need them, bring those with you when you come downstairs. We'll throw them away together..."




My mother went back downstairs and I ate my lunch of Lunchable and drank my milk at my desk. I was salty, and I sat at my desk with a scowl. After a little while my father came upstairs, walked into my room, and took my garbage and my bottle away. As he walked out he told me to get under my covers for a nap. This day was becoming surreal. Still, I had to pee so badly I was practically leaking, so I climbed underneath my covers, taped a diaper on, flooded that ish, and pretended to sleep.

I actually fell asleep after a while, and when I woke up it was dark outside, my light was on, and another Lunchable was on my bed, next to my bottle. I climbed out of bed, and then remembered I was wearing a soaking wet diaper. I quickly began to yank up my pajama bottoms, and as I did I heard my parents talking and walking up the stairs.

My parents walked into my room, closed the door, and sat down, my father in my desk chair and my mother in my gaming chair. My father snapped his fingers and pointed to the floor in front of him, and without even thinking I obediently walked over and sat down. I didn't want to get into a skirmish with him wearing a diaper that was so wet it might fall down at any time.

"You've had some time to think," my father told me. As he spoke my mother reached for my bottle and handed it to me from my desk, as if I would just start drinking it right there on the floor. (I almost wanted to). "Now it's time to make a decision: have you outgrown diapers, or do you still need them?"

This thought had been going back-and-forth in my head all day. I knew I could not give up diapers - there was no possible way. Like most of us, they are a permanent part of my life, something I even knew at age 14. Still, I was beginning to get the impression that choosing to not give them up would be a shitty situation. I'd been made to use one already, and it was just a couple of hours after our initial conversation. How bad would this get?

After going back-and-forth, I finally blurted out to my parents the truth.

"I don't want to stop wearing diapers."

"So you still need diapers," my father paraphrased - not at all what I'd actually said, but his interpretation of it none-the-less. He and my mother sat and looked at me very seriously, and after a long uncomfortable silence I agreed.

"I guess."

My mother told me to go downstairs and take a bath. Without thinking I responded that I would take a shower, but she corrected me:

"No, you will take a bath."

Obediently I walked downstairs and ran a bath. I was soaking in the tub with the door locked when I heard two loud knocks and then, to my surprise, the door opened abs my father walked in. I sat bolt upright and covered my penis. My father was just there to take my shorts and t-shirt and trade them out for a pair of footed pajamas - wait, whatttt. I was so shocked I was speechless, and I watched him as he hung this sleeper on the towel rack.

"Where is your diaper?" he asked me. I wished he would quiet down so my brothers couldn't hear. I pointed to the garbage can, and he picked up the can, looked inside, and brought it over to me. "Take it out," he told me. I reached in and pulled out the heavy, wet diaper, careful to keep one hand covering my joint at all times. I was quite embarrassed now. "Get out, dry off, put your diaper on, and get into your jammies," my father ordered.

"I didn't bring another one down," I stammered as my father began to leave the room.

"Then put on that one," my father told me. "Five minutes to bedtime, don't be late." I was still trying to formulate my argument when he closed the door behind himself...

When I returned upstairs my diaper was beginning to funk. I knew my parents could smell it.

They told me to sit back on the floor, except this time I could feel my diaper leaking is it pressed between my ass and the linoleum. Damn. A trickle of piss actually began to make its way along the floor where it inclined away from the outside wall of my room.

As I sat on my ass I looked around the room and noticed a few things had changed. My sheets had clearly been swapped out for some Cars sheets. On my bed were a few Cars plushies. A diaper pail set next to my bed, and my eyes were drawn to it, and then to the area underneath my bed - where there was nothing.

Wait, what?

I wanted to question my parents on why they had removed my diaper stash box, since they had said they were going to let me choose. But I also began thinking maybe it was for the best. Didn't want to sit and stinky wet diapers around my family, either.

"Where'd you put my stuff?"

I figured that question was general enough to allow them to explain what decision they had made.

"We put your diapers and your dresser drawer, where your underwear used to be," my father told me. I started to blush... USED to be? "And we put your video games and your gaming system downstairs in the den."

That's when I looked around and noticed it. From my seat on the floor it was hard to see everything in my room, but looking around I realized that my computer and monitor were gone. I instinctively stood up and surveyed my surroundings. My iPod wasn't on my desk either...

"Uh, where are my things?" I asked, becoming angry. My father snapped his fingers and pointed to the floor, but I didn't sit. This was serious.

"It's bedtime anyway," my father told me, pointing to my bed. I wasn't doing anything until I got a full explanation of what had just happened. I think he could tell I was serious, because he walked over to me and stood face to face with me, trying to look threatening. I tried to look as threatening as someone in a stank ass diaper can look.

We were eyeball to eyeball, and then I blinked.

"Everything you need for the summer is right here in this room," my father told me. As if to prove his point he began opening and closing doors, and I spied my diapers, coloring books and crayons, and a puzzle.

"Where is my computer?" I asked him. He rolled his eyes, looked at my mother, and she interjected:

"We bought you that computer when we thought you'd outgrown diapers. Things are going to go backwards for you a bit this summer, and it starts with that computer..."

My thoughts began racing, and I wondered what they had in mind. My father almost picked me up as he set me on my bed. He ordered me under my covers, and I climbed under them, kind of in shock.

"Am I going to get my computer and games back?" I asked.

"As you mature you may earn computer and gaming privileges," my mother replied. I wasn't sure what that even meant.

"When me and Travis have our friends over can I at least play games with them?" I asked. Travis was my twin, and he and I always schooled our friends on games when friends would come over during the summer.

"Well," my mother began. I could see I wasn't going to like where this was going already. "Travis can..."

"What do you mean?" I blurted out. "Travis can game but I can't?"

"Well," my mother continued, but then stopped. She looked like she was struggling to answer me and looked to my father for help.

"Travis can do what he wants," my father told me, "but I doubt that your babysitter is going to let you play video games."

BABYSITTER?!

"You'll be going over to Mrs. Poehl's during the day this summer," my father explained. "She'll be watching you during the day."

Mrs. Poehl babysat me and my brothers when we were younger. She was strict, bossy, and we nicknamed her hand "the snake" because when she reached out and cracked your bottom you felt like you'd been bitten by one. She did that for everything from cursing to rolling your eyes. I was not a happy camper...

"So I'm going to spend the summer doing chores for Mrs. Poehl and not getting paid?" I asked sarcastically. She had a habit of making the boys she watched do chores all day while she sat idle and ordered us around. She hadn't watched me or my twin in a few years, but she had been watching my younger brother Tyler and he'd jokingly threatened to go on strike the summer before...

"If she asks you to do chores, you will do them," my father told me matter-of-factly.

"Well, I'm not letting her spank me."

"If she gives you a swat on your bottom you will stop, think of what you did to warrant it, and change your behavior. She tells me you gave her any trouble, you'll get 10 times that when you get home," my father said.

"Well..." I still wanted to protest, but I couldn't think of anything else to say. "Why her?"

"Truthfully, your brother has outgrown a sitter, and we sort of felt bad, she's watched you boys for the past seven or eight years. Now that we need a babysitter for you, this works out perfectly..."

I realized my parents had already discussed this with Mrs. Poehl. I was embarrassed now, because that meant they knew in advance that they were going to talk to me about this, and they also had to know what my decision was going to be. I wanted to change my mind - to tell them I no longer wanted to wear diapers, that I didn't need a babysitter or Disney bedsheets or puzzles in my room!

But I also knew that I couldn't give up diapers. And part of me was secretly loving the idea of my parents knowing I didn't want to.

But that brought me to another question - was putting up with Mrs. Poehl and "the snake" worth being allowed to wear diapers at night?

I wasn't sure.

And, just like that, my father set me straight...

"Besides, she is the only sitter we could find that would allow a high schooler still in diapers."

I was horrified.

"She knows... I..."

"...still need diapers?" my mother finished my sentence for me. "Of course. And she's expecting you at 7:30 tomorrow, so it's time for bed..."

With that the conversation was over. My mother walked over to me, pushed me back down onto my mattress, pulled my blankets up to my neck, and leaned in to give me a kiss. My father came over and patted my chest, and told me he loved me. And then, as I struggled to think of something to say, the two of them walked to my door, turned off my light, and closed the door behind them.

As the door shut, my father turned and looked at me. With an absolutely serious look on his face he said these words:

"You don't want me to find you out of that bed for ANY reason tonight. Your mother or I will come in and let you know when it is okay to get out of bed. If I find you not where you are supposed to be, you may find that we have a snake loose right here in this house."

I looked at my clock. It was 730.

"Sleep tight, son..."

It was going to be a long, stinky night...



TO BE CONTINUED...