Dear Susan,

I found your wonderful site a couple of months ago, and had to write to you to tell you how effective some of the ideas I found on it have proved to be.

I have two children – Robert, who is 14, and Tamsin, who is 10.  We get by reasonably comfortably on the income from my job (I’m a teacher), although we don’t have much spare cash since my husband left me five years ago.  He’s now somewhere in Asia, and unfortunately takes no interest in his children, sending neither letters nor any money to help support them.

I was quite bitter about that for some time, but I’m over it now.  Tamsin never really knew her father, but Robert misses him terribly.  Over the past few months this has lead to him becoming quite unruly.  It was due to this behaviour that I was searching for inspiration on the internet.  I’d searched on ‘children’ and ‘discipline’, and I’m pleased to say, found your site.

At first I couldn’t quite believe what I was reading – did mothers really put their sons into girls’ dresses and knickers, nappies and baby pants?  I read through a few letters, some of which appeared to owe more to a vivid imagination than actual experience, but there are some that appeared to be quite genuine.

The letters talking about unruly boys whose behaviour improved after being put into girls’ or baby clothes particularly intrigued me.  I wondered whether it would work on Robert.

At first the idea seemed ridiculous – after all, whoever heard of a fourteen year old boy being put back into nappies, or being made to wear girls’ knickers?  I mused on the idea for over a week, veering from dismissing it out of hand to almost going out and buying him an outfit.

Eventually, however, it was Robert himself who made my mind up.  Encouraged by two friends, the three of them had been knocking on people's doors and then running and hiding. This sort of childish prank is a real nuisance for adults, and one neighbour who saw what was happening had called the police. The police woman who brought him home was a charming girl, who very kindly told me that he really should find a better outlet for his playfulness.

I was terribly embarrassed by the whole thing, and of course I agreed.  I think this incident frightened Robert, and he quickly and quietly went to his room as I ordered once the police woman had gone.  I sat downstairs fuming about his behaviour.  I had to find a way of keeping him away from some of his friends, because he was too easily led by them.  And then I remembered your site.

At that moment I decided that I would no longer try to reason with Robert.  From now on I would take control.  I strode upstairs into his bedroom, where he was playing on his computer.

“Switch that off right this minute and come here!” I bellowed.  I think my tone must have taken him by surprise, because rather than argue (like he normally did), he came straight over to me.

“You,” I said, “are a complete let down to me.  You’ve grown up rude and obnoxious, and now you’re a thief too!  Well I’ve had enough.  From now on you’re going to do exactly as I say.  In a minute we’re going shopping, but first, I’m going to spank your bottom!”

He was dumbstruck.  I hadn’t smacked him since before his father left, but he soon found out I was deadly serious.  I took down his trousers and underpants, sat on his bed and pulled him over my lap.  I lifted his shirt out of the way and gave him a sound spanking on his bare bottom.  I hadn’t shut his bedroom door when I came in, and I noticed Tamsin watching from the doorway.  I didn’t really want to spank him in front of his little sister, but I was too annoyed with him to stop.

When I’d finished I stood him up and told him to get dressed.  He meekly did so and off we went into town.

I still hadn’t quite decided what I was going to buy him. Girls’ frilly knickers would be humiliating for him, but nappies would be even worse.  In the end we found a parking space just near Boots the chemist, and my mind was made up.

Poor Robert still had no idea what we were shopping for, and you should have seen his face when I lead him over to the counter selling incontinence pants and large size disposable nappies.  I picked up two pairs of white PVC pants and two packs of disposable nappies.  I thrust them into his hand, explaining that as they were for him, he should carry them.  I also picked up some baby talc, nappy cream, baby wipes and baby lotion.

He stammered something to me, begging me not to use these items on him, but I told him my mind was made up.  If he was going to behave like a child, he would be treated like one.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so embarrassed, but it served him right for the embarrassment he’d caused me.  I must admit I dragged it out longer than was really necessary by taking my time looking at the make up counter.  I also made him queue up and pay for the items.  He was blushing bright red as he handed over the money.  The girl behind the counter gave him an understanding smile as she put his nappies and plastic pants, lotions and creams in a bag, which made it even worse for him.

Although he’s my son, and I love him very much, I was pleased that he should be suffering such humiliation.  It would do him good to think about something other than what trouble he could cause.  I hadn’t intended to publicly humiliate him – his nappy discipline was to be a private matter – but this was harmless enough.

If I could have found any I would have bought him some frilly rumba panties too – like the ones real babies wear.  Instead I took him into a haberdashery shop and bought some strong knicker elastic and some pretty lace trim.  I decided to sew in some extra strength into the leg holes and waistband of his plastic pants, and while I was at it I thought I might as well include some pretty pink and white trimming.

I took my disconsolate son home and took him straight into my bedroom.  I had to act immediately – I knew that if I hesitated the look on his face would make me relent.  I took down his trousers and pants again, and then took off his socks, leaving him in just his T-shirt.  Then I told him to lie down on my bed.

He begged me not to go through with what he knew was coming, but I slapped his legs and told him to be quiet.  This time I made sure my bedroom door was closed, before taking one of the disposable nappies out of the pack.

The whole scene reminded me of when he was a baby.  He was such a sweet child.  Maybe this would turn him back into one.  I picked up his ankles with one hand and lifted his legs high in the air, then slipped the nappy under his bottom.  The boy was crying now, so I poked one of his old dummies into his mouth.  I wasn’t quite sure how he would react to this, but to my surprise he actually began sucking on it.

I took my time powdering and creaming his bottom before taping the nappy securely in place.  He looked a picture of misery as I then slipped a pair of waterproof pants up his legs, taking care to tuck his nappy in.

He looked so cute as he stood in front of me in just his nappies and T-shirt!  I told him that if he wouldn’t behave of his own volition, then he would be put into nappies and baby pants.  I wouldn’t let him put any trousers or shorts on over his nappies – I wanted him to feel the shame of his little sister seeing him in his babyish attire.  I did say, however, that he would be allowed to wear shorts if we went out.

I think this made it even worse for him – he begged not to be taken out in nappies.  He also begged to not let Tamsin see him in that state, but I refused.

That evening I sewed the elastic and lacy trim onto his other pair of plastic pants, turning them into a gorgeous pair of very frothy ‘baby panties’.  He had to sit there watching me do it, knowing that he would soon be put into them.

I made him wear nappies all weekend, including overnight.  In the morning I went in to him and made a big point of poking my fingers under the cuff of his plastic pants.  I told him I was checking he was dry, like I used to.  I knew he wouldn’t have wet himself, but I wanted to carry out his punishment to the full.  I even bathed him, before putting him back into a fresh nappy and the frilly baby panties.

We always go to church on Sunday morning, and we did that day too.  Tamsin had on her Sunday best, and Robert had on his, but with his nappies underneath.  They didn’t really show, but he was very self-conscious.  And if I’m honest, there was a distinct rustling noise, which experienced mothers would instantly recognise.

He wore his nappies to bed on Sunday night, and I told him I would decide whether he would wear them to school or not, in the morning.  Of course I had no intention of making him wear nappies to school, but it made him think.

He was so grateful in the morning to be allowed his own underwear back, that he promised all sorts of improvements in his behaviour.

All this was about eight weeks ago.  Since then his behaviour has improved, although he still misbehaves sometimes.  He hasn’t seen his old friends at all, I’m pleased to say.  He has been put back into his nappies and baby panties on five occasions, which means there are only two disposables left now.

The act of putting him into nappies has now turned into quite a ritual – I find this draws out his punishment, and gives him plenty of time to dwell on what he’s done.  First of all he’s told to go up to my bedroom and get ready.  This means he has to go upstairs, take off his trousers, pants and socks, and lie on my bed.  I now have a pink padded waterproof changing mat for him, which he is required to fetch and lie upon.  I then make him wait until I’m ready to come up and put his nappies on him.  I sometimes wait a full fifteen minutes before going up, and he has to lie there in just his T-shirt.  I also have a child’s thermometer, with which I sometimes take his temperature.  I shan’t go into the graphic details, but suffice it to say he has to lie very still with his knees tucked up towards his chest.  Not surprisingly he finds this terribly humiliating, and I reserve this for when he’s been especially naughty.

I’ve also bought him a pair of girl’s frilly tennis knickers.  These are white and stretchy, and of course very frilly round his bottom.  They look just like baby knickers over his nappies and plastic panties.  He hates them, of course, but he does look sweet in them.

I’ve told him we’re going shopping for another pack of disposable nappies this Saturday, which he’s dreading. I mentioned that if he was very lucky he might be served by the nice girl who smiled at him when he bought his nappies and baby powder last time. He can’t complain too much, though, because he knows he’ll be straight upstairs and onto my bed for a nappy change!

I’ve also told him that if he continues to need to be put into nappies then I will also put him into a little dress or skirt, which will make it that bit easier to change him.  I’m not sure whether I really will make him wear a dress – it’s not that difficult to pull down his trousers to check his nappies – but he’s terrified of it.

I have to confess I’ve quite enjoyed having my baby boy back again.  I quite fancy dressing him and his sister up in identical outfits one day, except that while Tamsin would be wearing her knickers, Robert would be in his nappies and baby panties.

I can’t believe what a difference nappies have made to him, and I’m very grateful to you and your site.  Thanks to you I now have a charming son, whereas it looked like he would have got into more trouble.  And he does look so cute in his nappies!
Yours truly,

Sarah Watkins (Mrs)

It is a great pity that you can't buy frilly tennis knickers any more. Some of them were really perky, and ravishingly lacy and beribboned. In the 1970s in London I did see a mother and daughter examining pairs of frilly tennis panties in a shop, whilst a boy stood with them, scarlet-faced. This was not though, as many of my readers might surmise, necessarily a glimpse of petticoat punishment. Many young boys of a more self-conscious disposition will flush and blush furiously if they are brought anywhere near girls' undies, even if they are not going to be made to wear them.
Susan