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| Subject: Re: Early bedtimes | |
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Author: Lonagin |
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Date Posted: 03:28:14 04/19/16 Tue In reply to: June 's message, "Early bedtimes" on 12:48:49 04/17/16 Sun Throughout my childhood and teenage years, I always seemed to have a bedtime that was 1 to 2 hours earlier than my fellow chums. My strict and health obsessed Mother thought early bedtimes was a proper and beneficial routine for prone to get in trouble boys. My younger sister by two years always got to stay up later than me, in our teenage years sometimes much longer. I remember, for instance, being 14 years old, when I considered myself almost grown-up, as soon as my sister turned 12 years old she was allowed to stay up on Friday and Saturday evenings until midnight watching TV or talking on the phone and 10:00 on school nights, while my bedtime remained firmly established at 8:30 on weekends and 7:30 on weekdays, unless I was being punished, and then it would be much earlier. While I could only have my 'unruly' boy chums, as Mother referred to them, over to our house on weekends during the day, and she'd always send them home by 5:00, my younger sister was allowed to have her 'nicely behaved' girl friends over in the evening and they could stay until midnight or whenever their parents came and picked then up, provided my sister wasn't having a sleep-over, which she was allowed to do, but I wasn't. My sister stopped getting over-the-knee spankings (or any spanking at all), corner time, or mouth washings around the time she turned 10 years old. I, on the other hand, continued to be subject to these punishments, and many more, until I was 19 years old and left home. My sister, after her tenth birthday, only got grounded and had some added chores around the house when she displeased Mother. When I dared to question this inequity between my younger sister and me, my Mother would always tell me, 'girls mature much quicker than boys and that's why I give your sister more privileges than you. It's not your fault', she would say, 'it's just the way it is between girls and boys. Everyone agrees with this.', she assured me. I remained sceptical, but afraid of the very unpleasant consequences if I tried to argue my case too vigorously with my strong minded Mother. She also reminded me that most girls are considered responsible enough to babysit at 12 years old, while very few boys ever are. 'For instance', she said, 'while your sister is very mature and more than capable of babysitting now that she's 12, I would never consider you even close to being ready to babysit at 14. You just haven't reached anywhere near the level of maturity to take on the kinds of responsibility your sister does at her age. But that's okay,' she assured me, 'we're all different, it'll come some day...we'll keep working on it.' It still seemed unfair to me, but I kept my opinion to myself. When my sister's friends were over and we would be in the living room watching TV, there were no TVs in bedrooms in those days and I wasn't allowed to idle away my time alone in my room, where, according to my Mother, I might 'get up to no good', I had to sit with the girls and watch the program my sister got to choose, almost always some girlie movie or show. As if that wasn't bad enough, it was always the absolute height of embarrassment for me when, usually half way through the show, at 8:00 sharp, my Mother would march into the room and looking straight at me, announce in a clear firm voice, in front of the younger girls, 'Time to get ready for bed.' She instructed me to, 'Run upstairs and use the toilet and wash your hands, then call me and I'll come up and 'sort you out' as she liked to say. After she caught me numerous times masturbating in bed, often finding the shameful evidence hidden in a 'disgusting', dried up crusty tissue under my pillow the next day, and Mother punishing me with many bare bottom spankings over her knee, sometimes with my smirking sister listening and peeking in while she did it, and accompanied by early bedtimes, sorting me out meant putting me into very thick double diapers and rubber pants so that I couldn't feel enough sensation using my hand on the outside of the diapers to be naughty and if I did manage to squeeze a finger or two into my snugly pinned diapers and were somehow successful, there would be the obvious tell-tale sign of my nasty behavior in the form of a sticky, yellowish stain in my diaper for her to see when she changed me in the morning. The diapering proved to be a very effective deterrent for my night time masturbation habit, much to my Mother's satisfaction and my sister's delight, and Mom continued the practice right up until I left home at 19 for college and for years afterward when I'd be home for holidays. After Mother ordered me, in front of my sister and her friends, upstairs for bathroom duties and promised to come up and 'sort me out afterwards', she followed up by saying, 'Once you're in your jam-jams and you go and wash your face and brush your teeth, you can come back down and show me you've done a good job and that you're all clean and ready for bed, and if you pass inspection, you can stay and watch the rest of the program with the girls, for however much time you have left until 8:30, and then whether the show is over or not, after you say goodnight to everyone, it's off to bed. No complaints. Hurry up now or you'll lose all your time to watch the program until 8:30. Off you go, show the girls how fast you can get ready for bed'. There was giggling when she said that. At these times, my Mother liked to urge me on with what she thought were endearing, childish phrases like 'up you go now, quick like a bunny...hoppity, hoppity!' while she gave one sharp clap of her hands to set me in motion and send me scurrying up the stairs like a scared rabbit with the girls' derisive laughter ringing in my ears. It wasn't that I wanted to hurry up and get ready for bed so I could get back downstairs and watch the TV program, I couldn't have cared less at that point, I would have been more than happy to linger getting ready until 8:30 to avoid the awful embarrassment I knew was coming. But Mother expected, no demanded, that I be as punctual and as efficient as I could be whenever I was carrying out one of her assignments, whether it be a household chore or getting ready for bed. Mother would tolerate no tardiness, no laziness, no killing time in following her orders, so I knew I had no choice but to get ready for bed as fast as I could like she had told me. I knew the consequences for not doing so, starting with an over-the-knee, bare bum spanking and going from there, and would end up being far worse than having to go through the embarrassment of showing my sister's friends the terrible details of my early bedtime. When I had finished urinating and defecated, if needed, I hurried to wash my hands, rushed to the top of the landing and called my Mother. As she ascended the stairs, I rushed to my bedroom and, as I had been taught, retrieved the plastic lined, quilted changing pad kept on a shelf in my closet and unfolded it carefully in the middle of my bed, ready for my Mom to lay me on to diaper me. It was all so humiliating. My Mother smiled when she entered the room and noted the changing pad waiting for her. I was naked with my clothes already removed and my pajamas laid on the chair beside the bed. 'Good boy!', she'd praise me, 'you're making excellent time tonight.' She chuckled, 'You want to impress the girls, I suppose.' She'd say, 'They're all babysitters now so I think they'll be surprised to see how fast you can get ready for bed, don't you?' She laughed. She didn't wait for me to sputter out an answer and barked, 'You gather up the diapers and the pins and lay them out properly for me and I'll get the baby lotion and powder and pick out some pretty plastic pants for you, hurry now!' When she got back to the bed with her diapering things, she said, 'Okay, lay down on the pad and lift your legs up nice and high, that's it, now let's see how fast we can get this boy into his diapers and rubber pants tonight, shall we?', making it sound like an Olympic event. When the diapering was finished, she helped me into my pajamas and tried to tuck everything in, but as usual a great deal of shiny plastic always peeked out over the waistband of the jammie bottoms in the space where my top didn't quite come down to cover it. She plucked at the elastic waistband of the plastic pants and casually tried to tuck it in for a moment longer, but then just shrugged and let it go against my bare tummy with a snap, causing a tiny puff of baby powder to rise in the air. She giggled. 'Oh well, what does it matter?', she reasoned. She patted my bulging behind and gave the waistband of my pajama bottoms a final tug, before reminding me, 'These are coming down again in a few minutes anyway.' I shuddered thinking about it, but she thrust me forward out the door and into the bathroom, instructing me to 'wash your face and hands, brush your teeth, and then come back downstairs for inspection. You might have maybe 15 minutes left to watch TV if you hurry and have everything done properly.' She left and returned to the living room to join the girls and await my arrival for inspection. The delighted girls tingled with anticipation to see this older boy brought to heel like a child they might babysit. When I had finished my bedtime preparations, I began to make the walk of shame to the top of the stairs, fully aware I was a 14 year old teenage boy waddling like a toddler in a bulky diaper, and listening to the seemingly awful loud snap and crackle of the crinkly plastic pants I was shamefully wearing over my diaper and under my pajama bottoms. I carefully descended the stairs as everyone in the living room turned to look at me, having forgotten about the movie for the moment. There were smiles and giggles among the girls and my Mother snapped impatiently, urging me to 'Come on down here, hurry up, we haven't got all night.' Nearly blind with embarrassment, I stumbled into the living room where my Mother reached out from her chair and grabbed my arm and steered me a few steps further forward until I was, more or less, standing in the middle of the room. She turned me slightly, and then held me facing the girls, allowing them to get a good long look at me standing there, head bowed, in my pajamas ready for bed at the childish hour of 8:30! It was even still light out. When my Mother was sure I was the center of attention for everyone, and the movie had been forgotten, she announced that it was inspection time. The girls leaned forward to get a better view, if that was possible, of what was to come. I stood there in front of my Mother and the girls, waiting and hoping for the floor to open and swallow me whole. It didn't happen and I stood, trembling slightly, as Mother proceeded, much to the girls' amusement, to inspect me. She checked my face, my ears, my hands and fingernails, nodding each time I passed her standards. She asked if I'd brushed my teeth? She looked at me. I somehow managed a whispered 'yes'. She gestured for me to open my mouth. She looked at my teeth, and seemed satisfied. Then came the worst moment of all, the one I had hoped against hope to avoid, but to no avail. Mother asked in a strong, clear voice, knowing full well the answer, she knew I had no time to have done what she was about to ask me, 'Now tell Mommy', she said, 'did you remove or try to take off your diaper?' The shocked girls snorted, covered their mouths with their hands, their eyes dancing, they couldn't hold back the outbreak of giggles as they waited to hear the answer. My Mother looked at me for a response, I whispered 'No Mommy', trying hard not to become, on top of all the embarrassment so far, the 14 year old boy crying in front of a gaggle 12 year old girls. I was only partially successful, tears beginning to well up in my eyes. Mother continued. 'Show me you haven't tampered with your diaper.' she insisted. I stood dumbfounded, not knowing what to do, what she wanted me to do. Mother solved my confusion as she reached out, and in one swift, smooth motion, yanked my pajama bottoms right to to my ankles, leaving me standing there from the waist down in just my double thick diaper and shiny plastic pants for all to see. The girls gasped when they caught sight of my diapered state and threw up their hands again to cover their mouths, while they snickered and giggled behind them at my childish condition. Mother further petrified me by taking hold of the elastic waistband of my plastic pants and quickly pulling them down to bunch around my knees. With the girls still giggling freely, my Mother asked me, 'Let's have a look at you then, shall we?' As the girls laughed and gawked, I stood stunned and speechless, while my Mother closely inspected my diaper to see any evidence of tampering. When she satisfied herself all was well, she smiled and nodded at me, winked at the girls, and reached down to my knees to retrieve my plastic pants and restore them to their rightful place around my thick diaper. Then she pulled up pajama bottoms to my waist and told me I had 10 minutes left to watch the show. The girls settled down and returned to the movie. I sat in an empty spot on the end of one of the sofas and stared at the television without really seeing. As soon as the 10 minutes were up, my Mother, looking over at me, declared, 'It's 8:30, time for bed. Say goodnight to your sister and the girls and off you go...beddie-byes.' I gave a tortured wave to the girls and they smiled and gave a chorus of good-nights to me. My Mother told me, 'Come give Mommy a kiss and way you go. I'll come up in a little while to see that you're all tucked in. Nighty-night.' Every 12 year old turned to watch the 14 year old pseudo toddler make his way up the stairs for early bed time in his diapers and jam jams, knowing that each of them still had three and a half joyful hours to stay up and enjoy being a grown-up. One clever girl whispered contemptuously, 'It must suck to be him!' They all laughed knowingly in agreement. This sort of embarrassment carried on and actually got increasingly worse for me, if you can believe it. You can only imagine how much greater the embarrassment factor got as every year went by, until its climax was reached when I was 18 years of age and I had to endure this ritual in front of a group of my sister's 16 year old girl friends. Could it be any worse for a confidence struggling, self conscious young man? Was it any wonder, I was so eager to leave my home and move away to attend college and gain my independence. However, I soon discovered my true nature when I met and married a confidant, take-charge, no nonsense kind of woman, who wears the pants in the family, makes the rules for the household and expects them to be followed. Mother was delighted and welcomed her with open arms. Whenever I complain about my strict and embarrassing upbringing at the hands of my Mother, my wife corrects me and tells me it was an excellent training ground to prepare me for the female led relationship we now share. She has thanked my Mother and sister many times over the years for this early training I received. They always beam with pride when she does. Ironically, or perhaps not at all when one thinks about it, my wife has implemented in our marriage most of the methods my Mother used to control and discipline me. Just like when I was young, I now find myself subject to over-the-knee bare bottom spankings, corner time, mouth washings, regular enemas, diapers and plastic pants, and of course...early bedtimes...whenever she decides my behavior warrants it. My sister, not surprisingly, loves to visit us and she hasn't lost a beat when it comes to finding ways to embarrass me in my own home in front of my wife and now grown daughters. She and my wife have become great friends, as well as sisters-in-law. I'm sure back in those days of my childhood, just as it is for my daughters today, it was a learning experience and a new found sense of empowerment for the girls who witnessed my early bedtime rituals, when they realized they didn't have to be intimidated as long as they remained strong and determined women who could keep a male in his place like the child they knew him to be. When I shared my story of the ongoing humiliation I endured growing up at home, my wife told me that although I didn't appreciate it at the time, she was sure that through my many seemingly unbearable ordeals of embarrassment and humility, I helped a number of young girls to grow up to be strong, confident women who are not afraid to step up and become leaders and 'head of the house' over their much weaker husbands in their marriages and long term relationships. And that's a very good thing, she tells me. I should be proud. And I guess I am. The early bedtimes my mother used so effectively, is now used equally well in my relationship. On one occasion my Mother and Mother-in-Law came to visit us at the same time, and I became emotionally overwhelmed and quite silly, my wife told me, to be in the control of these two proud and strong willed women at the same time, along with my take-charge wife, while they sat on the patio and I served them late lunch and the ladies talked and caught up. My wife became so annoyed with my giddy, fawning adoration being around these radiant, forceful women, she finally sent me to bed at 5:00 to calm me down and allow the women to converse without the distraction of my flitty, excited manner in their presence. All three ladies agree that early bedtime is effective with males of all ages. [ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ] |
| Subject | Author | Date |
| Re: Early bedtimes | mikki | 07:48:22 04/21/16 Thu |
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| Re: Early bedtimes | Ali | 14:20:30 04/21/16 Thu |
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| Re: Early bedtimes | Kara (Mom of 11 and 13 yr old boys) | 06:19:02 04/30/16 Sat |
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