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This is a nightmare-style fantasy I have of being punished for my persistent bed-wetting by my strict Aunt.
My Aunt Juliet is quite old-fashioned, you know. Act like a baby, be treated as one. Let the punishment fit the crime. On and on.
Being 23 years of age, and still a bed-wetter, is terribly embarrassing for me.
I am spending my annual Summer vacation at her large estate, and pestered constantly by my three younger nieces.
Auntie insists, and I have long since stopped arguing about it, that I wear appropriate protection each night in bed. This means bulky cotton diapers and yucky latex rubber pants.
It is impossibly humiliating to kiss everyone 'good night' with a pudgy, bloated behind, all encased in silly baby panties!
I honestly believe it was Jenny, the oldest, who came up with the idea of this bizarre punishment. Really just entertainment for my pesky nieces.
I find myself hand-in-hand with Aunt Juliet, being escorted through a densely-treed area in her yard. I'm more waddling than walking with the cotton bulk between my legs, and noticeably 'swish-swishing' due to the horrid pink latex 'wubba pannies', as she calls them.
This silly get-up is accompanied by white leather toddler-style shoes along with a robin's egg blue shirt with a teddy bear applique embroidered on the right breast pocket.
I look like the average toddler boy of that era.
Act like a baby, be treated as one, in full effect!
Oh, and did I mention the mouth-filling blue binky, covered with my tears and snot?
We arrive at our destination, in the center of the forest, along side the well-worn path. Actually, quite a few of her neighbors use it as a short-cut in their journeys, and Auntie doesn't mind. So, there is always the possibility of being seen this way.
"Young man, you are stand facing this tree, with the tip of your nose touching it, until I allow you to stop. If, when I return, and I find you are not in your proper place, your punishment will be much worse."
Worse than this?! I muse, taking my place.
Now, I can hear everything going on, but see only the sap-stained tree bark.
I feel my Aunt put a sign around my neck with the message I'M A NAUGHTY SISSY.
That's when my blubbering starts all over again!
"SOB! SOB! Wh-what if the o-other SOB! kids see me? They'll tease me! SOB!!"
"Of course, they will. That's the point of this little demonstration. Your mother and I have tried every other method available to deal with this, but nothing has worked. Perhaps this will." She playfully squeezes my rubberized behind. "Good-bye, sissy"
"Pweath don't go!" I lisp through my binky, but she has already left.
A terrible chill travels down my spine. A sense of un-reality overtakes all else.
And worst of all, I need to sit on the potty to wee! Badly!
Something rustles the bushes, and I nearly jump out of my Buster Browns!
Just a squirrel.
I heave a deep sigh of relief. Then, I notice with dread that I had just soaked my pants uncontrollably, when the critter made his appearance. Just imagine if one of the mean girls or bully boys show up. Perish the thought!
Uh-oh! I hear deep voices getting louder and louder, boasting of their recent triumph.
"Yeah, that wimp is a real faggot!"
"Did you hear how he cried when we surrounded him?"
"Yeah, we didn't even touch him before he-"
A long moment of silence is followed by: "Get a load of this candy-ass!"
"Is he actually wearing diapers and rubber pants?! Wot a fag!"
Oh, god! I feel warm breath on the back of my neck, and the elastic waist-band of my rubbers being pulled open.
Oh I do hope you tell us what those nasty bullies did when they saw you had a wet nappy on!
The Fearsome Threesome, as I call them, are four years younger than me, but far more masculine. Outfit or not, being teased and tormented by someone younger is its own kind of humiliation!
And with these silly, over-sized baby clothes on, I feel even more vulnerable. Even though my hands are free, I can't bring myself to resist them. I could run, but I know I would only trip and fall, considering the enormous bulk between my legs.
I must look so silly with the tears and snot covering my binky and dribbling off my quivering chin. I can't bare to look up because they would take that as a challenge.
"I can't believe what I'm seein!" Bobby snarled. "This over-grown baby isn't toilet-trained yet! PU!"
"I heard this pansy is a chronic bed-wetter." Kenny added.
"Well, let's check Baby Huey's diapers then!" Greg pulled open the waist band in the back of my plastics. "Whew! I'm not touchin' those stinky things!"
The threesome had a good laugh over that.
Still facing the tree, I felt hands all over my body. Pinching and slapping my thighs, pulling out the elastics of my pants until it reached their limit and letting them snap back, accompanied by the bully boys verbal barrage.
"Hasn't your Mommy potty-trained you yet?"
"Those are some cute baby panties you have on, diaper-fairy!"
"Hey, let's pull them off and pull them over his head!"
"Yeah, then he'll get to smell his own pee-pee! Would you like that, potty-panties?"
WHAT?! I mean, did they actually think I would enjoy that?
That's when I felt my plastics being pulled down my legs. I was told to step out of them, which I did with no resistance, and, horror-of-horrors! All I could see was the moist vinyl wrapped around my grimacing face, and all I could smell was my ammonia-infused discharge. My eyes watered and burned.
"Now, lick those stinky panties clean, pansy!"
Ohhh! These boys are mean! I can't bring myself to do that! I just can't!
"You boys stop what you're doing right down!" It's my Aunt. Thank goodness she's returned!
"What do you want, lady?" Greg snarls.
Uh-oh! That was a big mistake! My Aunt is no easy push-over. That's for sure.
"What I want is to set your bottom on fire!" She grabs his arm, pulls him closer and with her other hand, reaches into her tote bag for her always-effective wooden paddle. Greg screams like a little girl while she swings the paddle in a rapid-fire manner. By this point, the other two bullies have split the scene.
"You naughty miscreants are nothing but cowards and sissies!"
"SOB! SOB! Please, stop!" Greg blubbers and dances in place.
"How dare you take advantage of my special needs nephew!"
Oh, no! Did she have to say that?
My Aunt is determined to mete out some justice now. "You're coming with me, young man. I'm going to give you a lesson in humility you will never forget!" She spanks Greg all the way home. He's no longer a bully, but his true self: a weakling and a coward. Most bullies are, huh? His shirt is thoroughly soaked with floods of tears.
I wonder what she has in mind for him. I'm not allowed to witness his transformation, but I can hear my Aunt and cousins talking about something called Petticoat Punishment. The old-fashioned, tried-and-true method of teaching a lollygagging miscreant a firm lesson.
I am shocked and speechless when he enters the room fully decked-out in his new outfit.
He looks just like a toddler girl from head to toe! On his feet: lacy, white ankle socks and pink patent leather Mary Jane shoes. A frilly pink baby bonnet leaves only his face exposed. Pink rouge covers his cheeks while a matching pink pacifier silences him. His pink skirt is completely absurd. The elastic waist band grips his chest and the hem hides very little of his diaper-stuffed, ballooning pink plastic baby panties. Top this off with the short, puffed sleeves and you have a bizarre caricature of an over-grown 2-year-old girly-girl!
I can't help but laugh at him. Why not? He deserves all the teasing my cousins will be giving him from now on!
"Oh, Mommy! He looks just like a real-life baby doll!"
"That is exactly what he is now." My Aunt smiles wickedly. "You girls may bottle-feed him all you want. When he's wet, let me know."
Auntie turns toward me. "Have you learned your lesson?"
My smile vanishes. "Yes, ma'am."
Does this mean I will stop bed-wetting after this singular emotional trauma? I really don't know. All I can do now is cooperate with her.
Auntie takes my hand and escorts me into a giant nursery for some fresh diapers. On the ceiling above the changing table is a mirror where the big baby can see himself, plastic pants wrapped around his ankles and pins unfastened.
I squeeze my teary eyes shut. I hear my cousins squealing with delight, and the nasty bully boy, Greg, begging them to leave him alone. His voice crackles. A masculine roar turns to a girlish shriek.
How terribly humiliating for both those boys. I wonder if they were made to play together in their nappies and baby knickers. Maybe they were even forced to kiss each other like proper little sissies.

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