Ride and Regression

Trouble

I waited nervously in the car, still clad in my wet jeans while my dad went inside the store. Sam studiously avoided looking at me or acknowledging my situation. But, Ricky had climbed out of his carseat, and was staring at my wet jeans, sucking on his pacifier now. Even though he was nearly 4, he was still diapered. Janice, our mom, was adamant that he should stay in diapers until he demonstrated he could be easily potty trained.

Soon enough, I spotted my dad heading back from the store, carrying a large box. He opened the trunk and put the stuff down, and I heard my dad ripping open the box. My anxiety began to build. "Thank god you're small for your age, Jason." Dad said ominously as he slid open the van door.

"Sam, climb over the seat, and get in the back with Ricky," he ordered. As he said this, my heart sank lower. I knew I was in trouble. "They actually had a nice selection of diapers in your size." he said off-handedly, as if talking to himself, and pulled out a large white diaper.

My eyes bulged. "What the fuck do you think you're doing with that-" I shouted before I could contain myself.

My dad cuffed me on the shoulder. Hard, and fast.

"Don't you ever speak to me like that again, son," He ordered. "What would you have me do? You wet your pants like a fucking baby, and we're barely a tenth of the way across the country. We can't be stopping every hour for you to empty your bladder." He paused, as a look of sympathy passed over his face, and he caressed the side of my face with his hand. "Besides Jayjay," he said, calling me by a nickname I had used as a kid "I know you've always had a small bladder this'll be much more comfortable for you."

With that, I felt my dad's strong hands push me back onto my back on the seat. No one said anything as he undid my belt buckle, and then stripped off my wet jeans. "Lift up." he said gruffly, but with touches of kindness, as he slid the opened diaper under my ass.

Next I knew, he was stretching and taping the large white diaper around me, and patting me on the crotch. I lay there stunned. I knew I should have protested more. I should have fought. But, somehow, I hated myself for not being able to stop wetting, and at some level I knew I deserved this. The thought alone stopped me dead.

My dad's voice brought me out of my reverie. "Ok Jason," He said, "All done." You can sit up now, and Sam, you can stay in the back seat or come back to the middle seat."

I sat up gingerly, feeling the diaper crinkle and feeling the bulk between my legs, and the soft padding under my ass "But dad‚ um, what about my pants?"

He barely paused in shutting the door "Your pants are soaked Jason, in case you forgot, and they smell like piss. And, we're not opening the suitcases now. So, you'll just have to stay like that until Philly." And with that, the door slammed shut, I blushed and  both Sam and Ricky give me quizzical, slightly sympathetic looks.

I rested my head against the seat back, and tried my hardest to forget that for the first time in nearly 10 years, I was back in a diaper.