Dear Miss Susan,

Well, I have just finished reading this month's contributions to your fantastic magazine. In light of all that I have read, I feel a need to
repay you for the many exciting adventures of your other readers. Though many of the stories seem a bit fantasised, I am pledging that though mine may also come across as fictional, I assure your readers that it all happened exactly as I have written. The main point I'd like to make is that at the time of my shaming, it was anything but pleasurable. I was so traumatised that I withdrew into myself mentally.

I was an only child born out of wedlock. In order to support and keep me from adoption, my mother boarded me out with a local family that took in several boarders. There were four of us boy boarders, a daughter of the family who was a year my senior, and a baby. I had stayed with this family up until I turned eleven, and could be trusted alone after school until my mother got home from work.

My first shaming came when I was six, and happened the summer before I entered school. It was mid morning, and we boys were playing in the back yard. All of a sudden I needed to use the bathroom, and without much thought I went behind a tree to relieve myself. The younger boy saw me and ran inside and told the woman what I had done. I was ordered inside and asked if what he said was true. I was very scared and shaking as I admitted my behavior. I was immediately told to remove all my clothes, as she called the others in to join us. As I removed my clothes I saw her order the others to stand across the room.

I was very confused and scared as I got down to just my underclothes. As she reached to remove my tee shirt, she ordered her daughter to go and get a couple of the baby's diapers and some pins. That's when total terror hit, and I screamed for her to stop with promises I'd never wet outside again. She didn't listen as she dragged me to the kitchen table and forced me onto my back. I was kicking wildly now, as she ordered the other boys to come over and hold me down. Rushes of shame engulfed me as she tugged at
my underpants. Just then the daughter returned and handed her the diapers.

'Since you don't want to use the bathroom like a big boy, then I guess I'll just have to dress you like a baby', she said as she removed my pants and pinned the diapers on me. I could hardly see because of the tears gushing from my eyes. She then sat me up and gave me a victorious smile of conquest. I was then stood across the room from the other children as she instructed them to tease me by calling me a baby. She then ordered me to look down at how I was dressed, and to tell everyone I was a little baby because I have to wear diapers. My feelings went numb, as I tried to obey through my tears.

After what seemed a lifetime of standing before the others, she told everyone to return outside to play, including me. I was even more terrified as I pleaded to stay inside. I was surprised when she agreed. I remained in just the diapers all morning, and mostly tried to stay by myself. Then by mid afternoon I again needed to use the bathroom and I went and asked if she'd remove the diapers so I could go. She told me that since I didn't want to earlier, I could use my diapers, as that is what they are for. I panicked as my pleas were ignored. A couple of hours went by with increased discomfort, as I begged several times to use the bathroom, but she only repeated that I was now a baby, and babies don't use bathrooms, they use their diapers. 

I went off to a back den horrorified that she was carrying this so far,desperately trying to hold back the tide of more humiliation. I had to wet my diapers however, as I burst into renewed tears at feeling myself being reduced to the status of a real baby. Just then I heard the woman comment, ' What have we here? Is baby wetting his little diapers?' Looking up I saw her smiling with pleasure at my shame. I was then dragged out the front door, while she declared, 'Let's show everyone what a little baby you are'. I felt totally naked as the cool breeze swept across my body.

I tried to turn away from this new shame but she held me in full view for several minutes as passing cars stripped me of my soul. I was then allowed back inside, and was again put on display before the other children while I was ordered to suck my thumb. I was empty of all resistance now, as I felt myself collapse inward. I remained in the diapers the rest of the day, and was made to sit in a high chair for dinner. I still remember how I felt when the tray snapped into place. It was like being locked in and helpless, as everyone looked on. I was given a very large glass of milk, which puzzled me as to why so large. I was in such a state I couldn't reason cause and effects. I was told I was to drink it all if I wanted to be let down out of the chair after dinner.

Finally bedtime arrived and I felt sure my ordeal would finally be over. As I stood and waited by my bed for her to come and remove the diapers, I watched the others come in from their baths and grin at me as they got into bed. The woman finally entered and as she spread a rubber sheet over my bed, I was told I was to sleep in my diapers for the night, just to make sure I didn't forget today's lesson. I was then ordered to roll over on my stomach as she turned the lights out. The dark engulfed me with a blanket of false safety as I listened to the other boys giggling at my condition. Things slowly settled down as I grew tired, and started to drift off to sleep. Just before I did, I started to feel the whole day wasn't real, that it was just a bad dream. I reached down between my legs for assurance only to feel that the warm, wet diapers were indeed real. In the calm darkness, I started to actually feel like a baby, and in some strange indescribable way, I felt a calming from it.

The next morning I woke with a stronger need to use the bathroom than usual. Now I understood the large glass of milk. It got harder and harder to hold, as I gripped myself once again. I didn't know what to do as I lay there for a long time wishing that the woman would come in and let me go to the bathroom. It must have been an hour before I heard the others stirring. They just as slowly took turns getting up to get dressed. My heart started to rush as I turned my back to them so they couldn't see me holding myself.

It wasn't long before the two older boys came over to my bed for renewed teasing. When they saw I was holding myself they figured what I was doing and began to chuckle. A rush of panic hit me as I felt them grab my arms and tug to break my grip, all the while laughing and asking if baby needs to pee pee. I was in total horror now, as I pleaded to be let alone. It was too late as I lost my grip and once again felt the rush flood my still damp diapers. The boys burst into uncontrolable laughter as they chanted, 'Look at the little baby wetting his diapers'. My resistance was gone as I felt my diapers getting warm, and my head turned away as I felt the torments of humiliation rip at my very being.

The oldest boy again grabbed my hand and tried to stick my thumb in my mouth while ordering me to suck it like a baby. I could only cry, as I kept letting it fall to my chest. I guess all the commotion disturbed the others because it wasn't long before the woman entered and ordered the boys down to breakfast. She then looked down at me, and smiled as she commented on my freshly wet diapers. She again reminded me of why I had been punished, and threatened worse if I ever acted badly again. I was then sent to the bathroom to remove the diapers and take a bath. Though I felt better at the ordeal being over, it was many weeks before the other kids stopped making fun of me. I think that was why I became such a loner and kept to myself from that day on.

I did have one more baby punishment the following year, and it was indeed worst as she promised. I also experienced being completely dressed as a girl once, when I got caught trying on one of the daughter's dresses when I was ten, but I'll save those for another time. I didn't enjoy the experience at the time, but now I often wish I could return and relive it over, again and again. I'm in my late fifties now, but I will never stop feeling the emotions I endured at the hands of that woman, or the shame and humiliation I felt from my peers. In an odd way I probably don't want to...
Love to all, and I will write again.

Baby Bobby.

It sounds like you had a terrible time at this barding home, without much love, and I am surprised that you would wish to relive it. Petticoat discipline needs an atmosphere of love and security, or it is just cruelty. It is a pity that it had such a traumatic effect, rather than just a beneficially disciplined effect. Your letter certainly has a strong ring of truth, and thank you for writing to me. I am glad that you enjoy the magazine, but I certainly think that you were very badly treated for nothing more serious than urinating in the back yard.
Susan