DAVE'S STORY

	Today I'm just laying on the bed in my poopy wet 
undies and reflecting on how it all started. I think my 
desire to mess and wet my pants revolved around my early 
toilet training. When I was very young (about 2 years old) 
all the men in my family went off to war (WWII). That left 
my mom, grandmother, and aunt at the homeplace. We lived in 
two houses, my mom's place and my grandmother's house on a 
20 acre farm.
	Potty training me was left to the 3 women in my little 
world. My grandmother was quite rigid about such things. I 
would have to sit on the potty before breakfast until I 
peed and had a BM. Because of this I probably focused a lot 
of attention on my little penis and poop hole. If I had an 
accident, my aunt would often clean me up. I remember one 
accident when I was probably 3 or 4 years old. I was on the 
stairs at my grandmother's house. My aunt was coming down 
the stairs as I stood there freely wetting my pants. When I 
was done she took me by the hand and led me up to the 
upstairs bathroom. There she stripped off my pee soaked 
clothing and put me on the toilet. I did a BM and some more 
pee while auntie started a bath. My aunt lifted me off the 
pot without even wiping my bottom and helped me into the 
bathtub. She took a washcloth and proceeded to wash around 
my little pee-pee and asshole. She seemed to spend a lot of 
time cleaning my bottom. I remember how "good" it felt. It 
must have made auntie excited, too, because she got a 
flushed look on her face. She even reached up under her 
skirt and did something between her legs. We have always 
been very close, sort of bonded by these early experiences.
	Later the men folk came home and life settled into the 
peacetime routine of work and family life. I still had 
occasional "accidents". Small wets and sometime a small 
turd would slip out into my undies. But mostly my toilet 
habits were normal. However, around age 9 things started to 
change. I guess I remembered how good those early accidents 
felt. I started experimenting with bowel movements in my 
underpants. I would often line my underwear with toilet 
paper and dump small loads of poop into them. It really 
felt good in a tingly sort of way as the poop touched my 
bottom and my little shaft would get hard. I didn't 
understand the dynamics of what was happening but I knew it 
felt neat. About that time my cousins, Jimmy and Johnny, 
and I built a little hideout in the hedgerow that separated 
our property from the neighboring farm. Jimmy was about 12 
years old and his brother Johnny was close to 7. They lived 
nearby and we were very close as children. We often stayed 
at each other's homes and did "everything" together. The 
hideout we built was made of wooden crates. It was probably 
8 feet by 6 feet and had a roof made of boards and 
tarpaper. We furnished it with some old carpet and a couple 
of old quilts. We folded the quilts and used them to sit 
on. We were pretty secure in our shack and often went there 
to play or read comic books. We would spend long hours in 
our shack and often would have to relieve ourselves. So we 
installed a potty which consisted of a large #10 tin can. 
If we peed in the can, we could empty it behind a nearby 
tree. Frequently I would get "excited" and get a semi-hard-
on watching my cousins pissing noisily into the can.
	One day Johnny and I were alone in the shack reading 
comic books and drinking orange sodas that my mom had given 
to us. It was a hot summer day and we had stripped down to 
our tee shirts and underpants. I had on an old pair of 
jockey shorts that were pee and poop stained from my little 
experiments. Johnny was wearing an old pair of his 
brother's training pants. At least I suspected the pants 
were Jimmy's because they were too large for Johnny. The 
training pants tended to gap at the leg holes and sag off 
Johnny's butt. I could actually see Johnny's bare bottom 
through the leg openings. The trainers were a dingy shade 
of gray from a lot of use and they had side snaps.
Johnny had drunk a lot of soda. I was beginning to suspect 
he had to pee from the way he was fidgeting and squeezing 
his crotch. I asked him if he had to go potty and he 
replied "yes". As he headed for the can I moved so I could 
get a good side view as he urinated. Well, he pulled his 
penis out through a leg opening and started to pee a good 
stream into the can. But as his stream diminished he 
started to grunt and squeeze his tummy muscles. Soon I 
could see through the leg opening that a long firm BM was 
coming out of his bottom and starting to push the fabric of 
his training pants down. He continued to push the brown log 
out until it broke off and fell into the bottom of his 
training pants causing them to sag even more. I was getting 
"hard" as I watched my boy cousin poop his pants and I 
could hardly speak. Johnny didn't say anything either. He 
just seemed act as if messing in his pants was normal. He 
slid his penis back in the messed training pants and sat 
back down with the load in his pants. He spread his legs 
out in front of himself and picked up another comic book. 
By that time I was sitting opposite Johnny with a very hard 
erection that I didn't know how to "handle". I could see a 
wet pee spot on the front of Johnny's undies and a brown 
bulge in his crotch where the BM had been squeezed under 
his balls. After some time my aching hard-on softened and 
it was my turn at the can. I had to pee bad. I just stood 
over the can and let the pee stream into my underpants. The 
pee went down my legs and some made it into the can. I was 
soaked and the hard-on re-asserted itself in my undies. 
Johnny glanced my way but didn't say anything. I think he 
was too engrossed in his own mess and the comic book he was 
reading. Later we dumped the pee filled can. I helped 
Johnny clean his bum and underwear as best we could so he 
could get home. I hung my pee soaked undies out to dry in a 
secret place where they wouldn't be seen. We got dressed 
and went to our homes.
	I've often reflected on that incident. I think 
Johnny's BM was an accident. Though he seemed very 
satisfied with his messy pants. I know my wetting was no 
accident. But whatever went on in our minds that incident 
started us on some wonderfully wet and poopy adventures.
	I did occasionally use an old diaper to line my 
underpants. Also because the cloth diapers didn't fit 
anymore I would put one out on the bathroom floor, squat 
over it and shit. Then I sit down on the diaper and squish 
the poop around on my bottom. It was only much later when I 
discovered disposable diapers that I started to wear them. 
When I started to wear disposables was I able to experience 
those boyhood feeling again. Now with multiple undies and 
plastic pants I feel like I'm really back in my boyhood.