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Nappy change
#1
The exquisite humiliation of having your nappy changed.


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#2
(07-09-2020, 11:27 PM)Ali Wrote: The exquisite humiliation of having your nappy changed.
I remember it well, Ali.

It was all part of the punishment, not only having to use the nappy but essentially have to sit (or as was very often the case with me, skip and prance about) in your own waste until such time as it was deemed appropriate for a change.

Whilst having to be changed (and for some reason it was the putting on of the new nappy rather than the removal of the old nappy) was demeaning, far worse were the minutes and sometimes hours beforehand having to do normal (and sometimes not so normal) activities while accompanied by the horrendous stench and the squish of my own waste. I would often do anything for a change at that stage and was sometimes asked to complete certain sissy forfeits prior to change being carried out.

Well depicted here, though.
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#3
They're delightful images, aren't they?

For me it wasn't specifically having my soiled nappy taken off nor my new nappy being applied - it was the whole humiliating process. My mother, when she discovered that I needed changing, whether that was because I'd wet my nappy or filled it, would make me lie down in order for me to be changed. Sometimes that would be on my changing mat on the floor, sometimes that would be on either my or her bad upstairs.

Then I'd have my baby knickers pulled down, and my mother would then tut and scold me as she undid my nappy, telling me what a naughty baby I was. Sometimes I'd then be left with my trousers or shorts round my ankles, or my dress or skirt pulled up high above my waist, while she went and fetched a clean nappy for me.

As a supposed comforter she'd put my dummy in my mouth while I waited for her to return.

Intensely and exquisitely humiliating.
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#4
(07-15-2020, 09:16 PM)Ali Wrote: They're delightful images, aren't they?

For me it wasn't specifically having my soiled nappy taken off nor my new nappy being applied - it was the whole humiliating process. My mother, when she discovered that I needed changing, whether that was because I'd wet my nappy or filled it, would make me lie down in order for me to be changed. Sometimes that would be on my changing mat on the floor, sometimes that would be on either my or her bad upstairs.

Then I'd have my baby knickers pulled down, and my mother would then tut and scold me as she undid my nappy, telling me what a naughty baby I was. Sometimes I'd then be left with my trousers or shorts round my ankles, or my dress or skirt pulled up high above my waist, while she went and fetched a clean nappy for me.

As a supposed comforter she'd put my dummy in my mouth while I waited for her to return.

Intensely and exquisitely humiliating.
I think that’s probably the difference, Ali.

Mother never really pretended that she expected anything other than dirty nappies from us and the punishments were generally designed so that not only would we have to wet and mess ourselves, but we would be wearing the used nappies often for a considerable period and have to jump and skip about in them (meaning my waste was constantly sloshing against my skin). 

If I had stopped and thought about it hard, the process of changing would probably have embarrassed me but TBH, dominating all that was an overwhelming sense of relief.
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#5
It's also an opportunity for my wife to put on an apron and gloves, which is a real treat for me. A fresh plastic nappy and my wife looking extra hot.
Always in strict uniform
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#6
(08-09-2020, 11:58 PM)rubberpinafore Wrote: It's also an opportunity for my wife to put on an apron and gloves, which is a real treat for me.  A fresh plastic nappy and my wife looking extra hot.
It’s interesting how we’ve come at this from different angles; Ali finds it humiliating, you find it arousing, and I find (or found, more specifically) it to be a relief. 

I suppose it is slightly different when it is your partner rather than your mother, though  Wink
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#7
Agreed, but we also don't use any towelling nappies, only plastic or PVC. The nappy for me is also used as a humiliation tool (enhanced when coupled with a similar bib and/or bonnet) but this acute embarrassment increases my sexual urges. I have no idea how I couple humiliation with arousal, it's just how it is. I am OK with that now.
Always in strict uniform
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#8
(08-10-2020, 12:32 AM)rubberpinafore Wrote: Agreed, but we also don't use any towelling nappies, only plastic or PVC.  The nappy for me is also used as a humiliation tool (enhanced when coupled with a similar bib and/or bonnet) but this acute embarrassment increases my sexual urges.  I have no idea how I couple humiliation with arousal, it's just how it is.  I am OK with that now.
It’s not so very unusual for people to be aroused by things that should be humiliating (or even which they are humiliated by when put into practice). For those who get the opportunity to ‘release’ their arousal, it is at this stage that the problems start as most times, things that cause arousal become either neutral or negative stimuli once the arousal has dissipated.
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#9
Very true- once I had my climax the first thing I wanted to do was to take off my uniform and deny (to myself) I had any kind of dependence on it. It was my wife's insistence I keep everything on (and the locks...) that forced me to confront my almost crippling fetish and gradually come to terms with it. To be made to list off what I was wearing made for even more humiliation and the never ending circle continued.
Always in strict uniform
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#10
When I first started wearing nappies again I would be the same - as soon as I came I would feel slightly dirty and embarrassed, and want to change out of them as soon as I could.

I remember the first time I ever came with someone else was with the son of a friend of my mother's, John. We had both been put back into nappies, and were put to bed early, together in John's bed. It was intensely humiliating being seen by another boy I hardly knew in nappies, even though he had been put into one too. I remember actually feeling jealous that his baby pants were plain white plastic, whereas mine were pink with little white frills.

I can't remember how it started, but once we were in bed we ended up rubbing each other through our nappies, and before long I made a sticky mess. I was instantly so ashamed of myself. In the morning when our mothers came in to get us up we both had the whole embarrassing thing of being changed in front of each other, and my mother made this big deal about asking me what the little yellow stain in my nappy was. I'm sure that had a lasting impact on me.

Over time I overcame my shame, and started to enjoy coming in my nappy but 'forcing' myself to keep it on.
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