Summary: A trip into an abandoned mine has unintended consequences for 
two Navajo youth.

Danny & Eric
By [email protected]

Eric and I have been close friends for as long as I can remember. It's 
probably because we have so much in common. To start out with, we're 
both 14 years old, and we're both full-blooded Navajo Indians, and we 
both live on the Navajo tribal lands in northern Arizona – near the 
town of Kayenta. And in addition to that, we're both members of the Fog 
Clan so that makes us even closer.

The other thing that we have in common is screwed up parents. Both our 
dads drink a lot – and mine especially, when he's been drinking, he's a 
mean drunk. So I think that mom drinks to forget about dad – or 
whatever. So whenever mom and dad have been hitting the bottle, which 
is usually, I spend the night at a relative's or friend's house.

Now the funny thing is that even though my parents have their problems, 
they're still proud of our Navajo heritage. Most of the other boys my 
age have more modern style haircuts but my folks insisted that I not 
get my hair cut – ever. The result is that I've got long black hair 
that hangs down my back almost to my waist. Actually, I've been 
secretly trimming it back a little at a time to keep it from getting 
even longer. And usually I'll wear it rolled up in a knob wrapped with 
string on the back of my head to make it less noticeable. Eric does the 
same thing.

So you'd think that with all their insistence on Navajo tradition, that 
my parents would have named me something like "running deer", or 
something, but no, my full name is Danny Chee. And Eric, that's a 
better name for a Viking than for a Navajo. Could be that our parents 
were drunk when they chose those names – go figure.

There's not a lot of jobs in Navajo territory unless you happen to be 
doing something for the tourists. A lot of the women weave blankets and 
some of the men make jewelry and pottery to sell to the belacanis 
(white folks). Actually, a lot of them buy stuff that's made in China 
and pass it off as made by a Native American but that's the belacani's 
problem. Near where I live there's a trading post that sells Navajo 
crafts to the tourists, and that also offers trail rides on horseback. 
So that's what Eric and I have been doing for the past couple of years 
– taking care of the horses.

Actually it's not a bad job – doesn't pay all that much but it gives us 
a little spending money – and an excuse to keep out of our folks' way 
when they're juiced up. The horses are kept in a corral in a canyon a 
couple of miles from the trading post that has a spring to provide 
water. So every morning Eric and I will swing by the trading post to 
see how many horses are needed, then hike over to the canyon and bring 
back the required number of horses. Most of the rides are early in the 
day before it gets too hot so by early afternoon the rides are usually 
over and we'll take the horses back to the corral and feed and water 
them for the night.

The best part of the job is that after we've got the horses cared for, 
the owner of the trading post has given us permission to take one of 
the horses out for a ride. So Eric and I will jump on a horse and go 
exploring. Maybe I should mention that Eric is a little on the crazy 
side – well, maybe "fearless" is a better word than crazy. It seems 
like there's nothing that Eric is scared of, and he'll try anything. 
The upshot is that he usually mounts the horse first and I have to 
climb up behind him and hold on to him as he gets the horse trotting 
over the rough ground. When the tourists ride the horses we fix them up 
with saddles but Eric and I have been riding for so long that we 
usually ride bareback, or just throw a blanket up on the horse and use 
that as a saddle.

Back in the 50's there used to be a pretty active uranium mining 
industry in the nearby hills and there are a lot of caves left over 
from the mining days. Eric and I have been exploring them and we'll 
usually find some old mining gear that we can bring back to the trading 
post and sell to the tourists. The old carbide lanterns that some of 
the miners wore on their heads are pretty popular and we can usually 
get five dollars apiece for those. So by the time we've got the horses 
back to the corral, and fed and watered for the day, and have taken off 
on horseback to explore for a couple of hours, it's getting to be late 
in the afternoon and time to get our horse back to the corral, and hike 
over to the trading post with whatever we've scrounged up from the 
mines that we'd explored that afternoon.

Even though not all of the tourists like to ride horses, there's one 
thing that all of them like to do – take pictures. So Eric and I worked 
out a deal with the guy who runs the trading post. When we bring the 
horses over to the trading post in the morning, we'll have let our hair 
down and we'll be riding bareback and wearing just sandals and 
breechcloths. As we ride up the tourists will start whispering things 
like: "….. they look just like real Indians …..", and "….. aren't they 
so cute …..", and shit like that. And they'll want to take our picture, 
or stand by us and have their picture taken with us, and Eric and I are 
glad to oblige – for a price. Usually we can talk each of the tourists 
out of a couple of dollars for allowing them to take our picture, and 
even though we have to split it 50-50 with the trading post, that's a 
couple of more dollars to stuff into our jeans at the end of the day.

But business had been pretty slow for the last couple of weeks. Oh 
sure, there were the tourists, but it seemed like we'd run into a 
string of really cheap ones that would snap our picture without asking 
and then refuse to pay us anything. And we hadn't been having much luck 
to scrounging stuff from the mines – a couple of broken up shovels was 
all that we'd turned up in the past week. So even though we knew that 
it wasn't too safe to go deep into the mines, Eric and I had started to 
go deeper and deeper in search of items that we could take back to the 
trading post and sell.

Even though it's a desert outside the mines, once you get farther back 
into a mine, it's not unusual to find water trickling down the walls 
and even pools of water on the floor. It was in one of those mines that 
there was enough moisture that it had turned the dirt floor of the mine 
into a layer of mud, maybe a half foot deep. It wasn't too pleasant 
walking though that stuff as it was pretty slippery and we had to be 
careful not to slip. We were still wearing our sandals and breechcloths 
from earlier in the day so when we got to the muddy section, we had 
taken our sandals off and were just walking barefoot through the mud, 
feeling carefully for and spots that might trip us up. Plus, the stuff 
felt really slimy and had this smell of something rotten. But we'd 
already found one lantern near the beginning of the muddy section and 
were hoping to find more so we kept walking through the slimy mess. 
After about five minutes of slopping through the mud and muck, Eric 
turned to me and said: "Poopie pants." "Ahhh, you're full of shit", I 
replied, "That was kid stuff years ago."

In fact, till Eric said "poopie pants" I'd even forgotten the kid game 
we had played many years before. I don't even remember how the game had 
gotten started but for a number of years, Eric and I had occasionally 
played this game where, when one of us said "poopie pants" to the 
other, that one had to stop and pick up whatever was nearby and put it 
in his underwear and walk around for awhile pretending that he had just 
pooped in his underwear. Like now it seems really stupid, but I guess 
when you're five years old you have a different sense of humor.

Anyway, Eric kept looking at me and said "poopie pants" again. Well, I 
couldn't turn down the dare without appearing chicken, but I figured 
that two could play the game so I stared back at him and said "poopie 
pants on you." So Eric and I just stood there for a couple of minutes 
and looked at each other. We both wished that we hadn't gotten into 
this dare-doubledare situation but neither of us could back down. I 
think I mentioned that we were still wearing our breechcloths from that 
morning's picture taking session so I slowly bent down, grabbed a 
handful of the muck on the floor and stuffed it into my breechcloth. 
That broke the ice and Eric did the same. We each stuffed several more 
handfuls of the stuff into our breechcloths, wiped our hands as clean 
as we could on the outside of our breechcloths and then resumed walking 
down the tunnel, looking for mining equipment.

Actually, it turned out to be a not bad afternoon as we found one more 
carbide head lantern, an old kerosene lantern and some old metal pans. 
But it had been so long since Eric and I had played "poopie pants" on 
each other that I had forgotten how strange it felt to be walking along 
with all that slimy mess covering my balls and dick, and filling my 
crotch and squishing around between my legs as I walked along. It was 
almost three hours before we finished exploring that particular mine, 
hiked back to the entrance, got on our horse and rode a couple of miles 
to a small stream where we could wash off. By then I was beginning to 
feel this itchy, irritated feeling in my crotch and it was with relief 
that I stripped off my breechcloth, waded out into the stream and 
washed myself off with the cold water. My dick and balls were sort of 
red and irritated and sensitive to the touch at first but I finally 
just sat down in the stream and let the cold water flow over me and 
after fifteen minutes or so began to feel pretty much normal.

Eric and I tried to wash off our breechcloths but no matter how long we 
worked at it, we couldn't get the smell or the slimy feel out of the 
material so we just rode back to the corral naked, and then changed 
into our jeans and shirts.

The next morning when I was getting dressed I noticed that my dick and 
balls were still sort of red – like they were covered with a rash – but 
they didn't hurt or itch or anything so I just ignored it, figuring the 
rash would go away shortly.

But over the next week, the rash didn't go away and my dick and balls 
seemed a little swollen or puffy. Again, I figured that it was just a 
reaction to the irritation of the mud from the cave and tried to ignore 
it – after all, it didn't hurt or itch or anything.

By the time several more weeks had passed, I couldn't pretend that 
nothing was happening, however. The redness and rash had gone away but 
my dick and balls had swollen to about twice their original size. It 
wasn't like they were hard or anything – they were just sort of soft 
and puffy – but larger. Before this happened, my dick was about the 
size of my thumb – maybe an inch in thickness and a little less than 
three inches long. But now it was almost two inches thick and about 
five inches long. And my balls were about twice their original size. At 
first I figured that this was just temporary and that the swelling 
would eventually go away – but it didn't. Even though my dick was 
bigger, it wasn't hard or anything, just sort of soft and flexible so I 
could fit it into my underwear and breechcloth OK. If you looked 
carefully you could see that I had a slightly larger than usual bulge 
in my crotch, especially when I was wearing my breechcloth, but it 
wasn't too noticeable.

Now I don't think that any guy ever has perfectly clean underwear by 
the end of the day - there's usually just a tiny little staining from 
when you take a piss and a drop or two of pee leaks out into your 
underwear afterward, but I noticed that my underwear now was really 
stained pretty yellow by the end of the day – even though I was careful 
to take a piss whenever I felt the need – it was almost like a little 
pee was leaking out into my underwear even though I wasn't aware of it. 
Of course the Navajo lands in northern Arizona are mostly desert and 
the temperature gets pretty high during the day – it's not unusual to 
have a temperature of 110F during the hottest part of the day. But it 
doesn't feel too bad because the humidity is really low. You just have 
to remember to drink a lot of water to replace what your body is 
sweating away to keep cool. So even though a little pee might have been 
leaking into my underwear, the low humidity meant that it dried right 
away so I never had a wet spot on my jeans or breechcloth to show what 
was happening.

The problem was that over the next couple of weeks, the swelling in my 
crotch didn't go away, and more and more pee was leaking into my 
underwear. Finally it got to the point that even though I was trying to 
take a piss every hour or so, most of the pee was going into my 
underwear. And even though it dried right away in the low humidity, 
after a couple of days my jeans would start to get pretty smelly. My 
mom had only been doing laundry about once a week, less often if she 
was drunk, and after wearing the same jeans for a week, I was beginning 
to smell pretty bad – I'd notice people wrinkling their noses and 
looking around for the source of the odor when I walked past them. I 
tried stuffing some Kleenex down into my underwear to soak up the pee 
but that didn't work too well. First, it kept shifting around in my 
underwear and if I put in enough to catch all the pee it made the bulge 
in my crotch more noticeable.

It was the following week that Eric and I were finishing up at the 
corral when he came over to me and asked: "Uh, Danny, uh have you 
noticed anything different lately?"

"Different?" I asked, "like with the horses, or what?"

"Uh, no", he replied, "like anything different down there?", and he 
looked down at the crotch of his jeans.

Now that he had mentioned it, I looked at his jeans and he did seem to 
have a slightly larger bulge in the crotch than he had before. I 
wondered whether he had the same swelling problem that I did. "Like, 
uh, something got a little bigger?" I asked.

"Uh, yeah. Well, maybe more than a little bigger", he said.

So we just stood there for a minute and I finally said: "So, you want 
to show me yours if I show you mine?" He just started at me for a 
second and then he reached down, unbuckled his belt and let his jeans 
slide down to the ground. I saw the large bulge in his yellow-stained 
underwear and then he reached down and pulled his underwear down. 
Jesus! His dick was even bigger and more swollen than mine was. It must 
have been six inches long and over two inches thick. As he held it in 
his hand I could see several drops of yellow liquid seep from its end 
and drop to the sand below. Eric blushed a bright red as he saw me 
staring at his large member so I quickly stripped off my jeans and 
underwear to show him my similar problem.

"I don't know what happened", he said, "but it got all big and I can't 
stop peeing in my pants."

"Uh, yeah, welcome to the club", I replied.

After we realized that we both had the same problem, it was easier for 
us to talk. I found out that Eric had been sneaking out every night to 
wash his jeans and underwear in a nearby stream to keep the odor down 
but he was afraid that eventually somebody would catch him. And I was 
afraid that the smell from my pee-soaked jeans and underwear would 
eventually tip someone off as to my problem. So we didn't solve our 
problems that afternoon, but at least we felt better in knowing that 
neither of us was suffering alone.

It must have been about two days after that that when I met Eric at the 
trading post before we hiked over to get the horses at the corral that 
he seemed to be walking a little differently. I guess he noticed that I 
was looking at him strangely as he whispered: "Wait till we get to the 
corral."

Once at the corral, he said: "I think I've solved the problem", and 
proceeded to lower his jeans. I didn't see any underwear but instead he 
was wearing this thick cotton thing in place of his Jockey briefs. "I 
made this out of part of an old cotton blanket that my mother was 
getting ready to throw away", he confided in me and I realized that he 
had fashioned a sort of diaper from the cotton blanket. It didn't fit 
too well, and the added bulk between his legs had given him that funny 
walk, but it did seem as though it was catching and absorbing all the 
pee that leaked into it. At first it seemed funny to see Eric standing 
there in a diaper and I kind of snickered a little and he blushed. "So, 
wise ass, you got a better idea?" he challenged me. And I had to admit 
that I didn't.

So when we went to the corral the next morning, Eric brought along the 
rest of the old cotton blanket, hidden in his backpack, and we 
fashioned three more diapers out of it – a second for Eric and two for 
me. He had brought along some safety pins and it took me awhile to get 
the knack of getting the diaper on, and adjusted and pinned properly. 
The first time I did it I felt really embarrassed but once it was on, 
and I had my jeans back on over it, I could kind of pretend that it 
wasn't there – even though it's added bulk did take a bit of getting 
used to. Both because of the added size of my "equipment" and the bulk 
of the diaper, I ended up wearing a size larger in my jeans. Luckily 
one of my older brothers had outgrown a couple of pairs of his jeans 
and I could grab one of those to wear.

For the next week Eric and I kind of settled into a routine of putting 
on a diaper at the corral al the beginning of the day and wearing it 
till the next morning. Then we'd put on a fresh and dry diaper and take 
the dirty one, wash it out in the horse trough, and hang it up to dry 
for the following day. It took a few extra minutes but at least we 
didn't have to be afraid that folks would notice that we were peeing 
ourselves during the day. Of course, when we wear wearing our 
breechcloths for the tourists' cameras, we couldn't wear the diapers 
but we were only wearing the breechcloths for about six hours every day 
and we'd wash them in the horse trough when we took them off at the end 
of the day.

The horses didn't seem to mind what we were doing in their drinking 
trough. But then I've never thought that horses were really as smart as 
some folks think they are.

Now before my dick got all swollen, I was jerking off several times a 
week. And I was still doing that – but things were now working a little 
differently. Before, I'd stroke my dick and it would get bigger and 
hard, and then after a little more stroking I'd come and this liquid 
would squirt out. But now, no matter how much I play with it, it 
doesn't get bigger or hard – just remains sort of soft and puffy. It 
still feels just as good, though – even though when I come the liquid 
just kind of dribbles out the end. As long as it feels as good, and I 
can jerk off as often as before, I guess that's all that counts.

While it's true that all white men look alike – at least if you're an 
Indian, there was one of the tourists that I remembered seeing several 
times before. He never rode the horses but would hang around the 
trading post for a couple of hours in the morning, maybe once a week or 
so, and buy a few souvenirs and take a few photographs. Finally, after 
a couple of months, he came up to me and Eric one morning and asked if 
he could take a couple of pictures of us. "Sure", I responded, "you 
want us on a horse, or you want someone to take your picture standing 
by us?" Well, it turned out that he didn't want either. He just wanted 
to take a series of pictures of us. Some of just me, some of just Eric, 
and some of the both of us together. And he wanted us to stand by the 
horses, by a nearby cactus, or by other things, and he wanted us to 
pose like we were doing something like saddling a horse or unpacking 
our backpacks, or just stuff like that. I asked him if he wanted us to 
put our jeans and shorts on but he wanted us in our breechcloths. It 
all seemed a little weird but we figured that what the hell, he was 
paying us.

I think that Eric's really proud of the size of his dick and balls. 
Usually when we're alone with the horses at the corral he won't wear 
any clothes – just walk around naked – with his big dick just dangling 
between his legs. And I've noticed that whenever he doesn't need both 
hands for whatever he's doing, that one of his hands will usually be 
down in his crotch, fondling himself. Plus, when he's wearing his 
breechcloth he'll arrange his "equipment" so that the bulge in his 
crotch is pretty noticeable. Oh, it's not really gross or anything, but 
you can see that he's got a nice package down there. We were talking 
the other day as we were returning the horses to the corral and Eric 
turned to me and asked: "Danny, you ever wonder what it would be like 
to have your dick even bigger?" "Oh yeah, that would be great to have a 
bigger dick – if you're an elephant", I replied.

As I've been changing my diaper the past week or so, I've noticed a 
little brown staining at the back. I guess that I haven't been wiping 
myself as carefully as I should and I'll have to do a better job in the 
future. But at least my diaper catches everything.

Pickings of mining antiques to sell at the trading post have been 
pretty few and far between the last couple of weeks. Eric's been after 
me to go back to that mine where we found several old lanterns several 
months ago – the one with the muddy section. There was something creepy 
about that mine that I didn't like so I'd been turning him down, but 
finally yesterday I broke down and agreed. So after we'd stabled the 
horses in the afternoon, we headed back to the mine. Remembering how 
messy it had been before and how hard it was to clean the slimy mud off 
of out breechcloths, we just stripped at the entrance to the mine and 
made our way into it's depths, naked and carrying only our flashlights. 
We'd found a lunch pail and several old knives before we got to the 
muddy section and I was all for turning back and calling it quits but 
Eric insisted that we continue. We were only about thirty feet into the 
muddy section when I heard this splat noise behind me, followed by 
Eric's cursing, and turned around to see that he had slipped and gone 
face down in the muck. Boy was he pissed – but it served him right – he 
was the one who had insisted that we continue into the mine.

Anyway, he struggled to his feet and then promptly slipped again and 
went down on his back this time. The second time he made it upright 
without falling and we spent another hour or so exploring the depths of 
the mine – Eric looking like some prehistoric mud man – covered as he 
was. We found a couple of more items that we could sell so I guess the 
trip was pretty successful. We stopped at a stream on the way back to 
the corral so that Eric could wash off – he was still in a bad mood so 
I didn't dare kid him about how he looked. I noticed that he was kind 
of absent-mindedly scratching his crotch but didn't think anything of 
it at the time.

Actually, it was pretty lucky that we'd found some items to sell as the 
trading post was going to close for two weeks in a couple of days and 
that meant no tourists, no photos, no trail rides – and no money coming 
in! But at least Eric and I each had about fifteen bucks to tide us 
over the two weeks. The first couple of days that the trading post was 
closed Eric and I just kind of hung around – we still had to care for 
the horses in the corral and exercise them. But since we didn't have 
much else to do that gave us a chance to spend a lot of time on 
horseback, which was fun.

After the first week, I kind of lost track of Eric and didn't see him 
the second week. It kind of annoyed me because that meant that I had to 
do all the work of taking care of the horses. It really wasn't that 
hard – but he was supposed to share the load. Actually, there were a 
couple of times when I was just as glad that Eric wasn't around. 
Several times I had been riding a horse and had an "accident." Now I 
don't mean that I fell of the horse or anything, but I'd be riding 
along and all of a sudden I'd feel this warm and sticky stuff begin to 
fill my diaper and I'd realize that I'd just crapped myself. I couldn't 
figure out why it happened. It wasn't like I'd felt that I had to take 
a crap or anything, but all of a sudden it just started to come out in 
my diaper. Since I was by myself, I could dismount, clean the worst 
part of it out of my diaper, and then wash myself off and put on a 
clean diaper when I got back to the corral.

The worst part about crapping myself, was that I had no warning when 
"it" was going to happen. One especially messy time was when I was 
wearing my breechcloth and riding bareback. A mile or so from the 
corral I felt the warm and sticky feeling and knew that I'd lost 
control again. But the breechcloth couldn't contain the mess and it was 
soon smeared all over the back of the horse where I was sitting, and 
down on the horse's sides, and all over my legs. Boy, did that take me 
a long time to clean the both of us up back at the corral. After that, 
I quit wearing a breechcloth on my rides.

Well, the trading post reopened yesterday after the two-week shutdown. 
I'd showed up around eight in the morning as usual and had expected to 
see Eric there – he often arrived a little earlier than I did. But he 
wasn't there and after waiting for almost an hour for him to show up, I 
went ahead and brought the horses back to the trading post by myself. 
Eric never did show up that day but there weren't that many tourists so 
I could take care of things by myself without any problem. Later in the 
day, after I'd finished up with the horses, I figured that I'd swing by 
Eric's place on my way home to see what was up with him. Actually, 
"place" doesn't give you a good idea of where Eric lives. His folks 
have this old beat up trailer out in the desert, with a swamp cooler on 
the top to keep it comfortable, and some 55 gallon drums outside to 
hold drinking water – not exactly a palace! They've also got a Hogan 
nearby although it's pretty beat up and I don't think they use it very 
often. So anyway, when I got there I went up to the trailer's door and 
knocked a couple of times and Eric's mother eventually opened the door. 
She was sloshed as usual and weaving back and forth on her feet a 
little. She wasn't too coherent but her story seemed to be that she 
hadn't seen Eric for a couple of days – more or less. Given her 
condition, I'm not sure that she would have noticed him even if he had 
been there.

So I was heading back to my place but when I walked past their Hogan, I 
thought I heard a slight rustling sound from inside. Now for those of 
you who don't know what a Navajo Hogan is like, it's a circular one-
story building, maybe twenty feet in diameter, made of logs and covered 
with earth. There's a small hole in the roof to let smoke out, and a 
single door facing the sunrise in the east. Originally my people lived 
in them but now we use them mainly for various ceremonies. Ordinarily I 
wouldn't have checked out the noise I thought I'd heard but I was kind 
of bored and killing time so I figured why not. As it was late in the 
afternoon, what little light there was in the Hogan came through the 
small hole in the roof, or reflected in through the open door from the 
desert outside – it was pretty dark inside. I entered carefully, 
watching for any sign that the noise came from some animal, but after a 
minute or so when my eyes became accustomed to the darkness, I saw a 
figure sitting slumped against the far wall. "Eric?" I asked.

There was a moment of silence and then "Yeah", he responded. His voice 
sounded a little funny like he might have been crying or something.

"What's up? Is something wrong?" I asked.

This time he was quiet for several minutes and I was beginning to get 
worried when he hesitantly said: "It got bigger."

"Bigger? What got bigger?" I was really confused now.

"Down here", he said as he motioned toward his waist.

I had no idea what he was talking about and just stood there silently 
for a minute. Finally Eric said: "Look", and stood up and reached down 
to his crotch with both hands, picking up and stretching a large object 
out in front of him. It must have taken me about a half minute before I 
realized what he was holding in front of him – it was his dick! Holy 
Shit! The thing was huge! It must have been like four inches in 
thickness and about a foot long! My jaw dropped and I just stared at 
the monstrous object that Eric was supporting with his hands. After a 
minute or so he began to cry.

"Like, what happened?" I gasped.

Between sobs, Eric said that he didn't know what had caused it but 
about a week ago his dick got really itchy and started to swell up. It 
had reached its present size a couple of days ago and since then he had 
been hiding in the Hogan, afraid or ashamed to let anyone see him. "Can 
you imagine me walking around in front of the other members of my 
clan?" he asked. I could imagine how embarrassed he felt for as he 
walked around the interior of the Hogan, his huge cock dangled almost 
to his knees, and swung back and forth and slapped against his legs as 
he walked. As I looked at him, it didn't seem as though his balls had 
increased much in size, it was only his cock that had grown. But it 
didn't look the same as I had remembered when it was smaller, it looked 
softer and when Eric cradled it in his hands it looked more like a big 
tube of flesh than a hard cock. As he absently mindedly stroked it as 
he walked along, he suddenly paused and stroked it harder, finally 
letting out a gasp of pleasure as some white liquid dribbled from its 
end. "I see some things haven't changed", I said, and that broke the 
ice as he laughed.

"So, how are we going to get you out of this Hogan without letting 
everyone know what happened?" I mused.

Suddenly I remembered that one of my older brothers had been into 
skateboarding for awhile – until he realized that there aren't a lot of 
places to skateboard in the desert! But anyway, he'd talked my parents 
into buying some skater clothes for him – you know, the big baggy 
shorts – I think they were called No Fear Boardshorts. Anyway, he 
hadn't worn them for almost a year and I ran to our place, rummaged 
around till I found them, and then ran back to where Eric was waiting 
for me in the Hogan. He put the shorts on and adjusted the drawstring 
at the waist till they fit the way he wanted them to. They hung down to 
about halfway between his knees and ankles and were so full cut and 
baggy that they really covered "things" up pretty well. As Eric walked 
around the Hogan, getting the feel of the shorts, if you looked really 
carefully you could notice that there was something swinging back and 
forth under the shorts as he walked along, but the casual observer 
wouldn't notice anything. "You know, this just might work", he 
commented.

The next morning at the trading post, Eric took some ribbing from our 
friends over how he had turned into a Skater Boy Navajo overnight, but 
no one suspected the real reason for his change in clothing. A couple 
of the tourists were kind of miffed that they couldn't take pictures of 
"….. authentic Indians in their breechcloths ……" but there was no way 
that Eric could hide his huge cock in a breechcloth and I certainly 
can't wear one because I don't know when my bowels are going to "let 
go" these days.

After he got over the shock of what had happened to him, and realized 
that even with its increased size he could still hide his cock from 
prying eyes by wearing the baggy skater shorts, it looked to me as 
though Eric was actually pretty happy with the change. When we were off 
by ourselves I noticed that whenever he had one or two hands free that 
he'd be caressing or stroking his dick. I asked him about it once and 
he said that it just felt good when he played with it, plus he really 
liked to feel its weight hanging from his crotch and the feel of it 
dangling between his legs and swinging back and forth as he walked. 
Once I got up the courage to ask him what it felt like when he held it 
in his hands and he walked over to me and said: "feel for yourself." I 
was kind of embarrassed to be touching him but I reached down between 
his legs, grasped it with both hands and lifted it up. It felt heavy – 
like maybe ten pounds or so, and warm and soft in my hands. Eric 
groaned a little in pleasure as he felt my hands upon his shaft and all 
of a sudden this struck me as too much like giving him a hand job so I 
quickly released it.

It must have been about a week after that when Eric came up to me as I 
was cleaning the poop out of my diaper at the corral. "Have an 
accident?" he asked.

"Uhh, not really, I'm just having trouble controlling myself lately", I 
replied.

"That's a bummer. Must be pretty gross to crap in your diaper like 
that", he said.

I didn't tell him, but in fact after the first couple of times, it 
didn't bother me all that much and lately I hadn't even been trying to 
control myself. If the truth be told, I had gotten to like the feeling 
of the warm and sticky poop gushing into my diaper and the way it felt 
when it squished around to my front and got on my balls and dick. Since 
I was still only changing my diaper once a day, and doing all my 
"business" into it, I usually had at least one or two loads of poop in 
it by the end of the day.

That tourist at the trading post that had wanted to take all the 
pictures of Eric and me months ago came up to us again this afternoon 
and asked if he could take more photos. Eric and I kind of looked at 
each other and shrugged "why not" – a little extra money is always 
welcome. So the guy spent about a half hour taking various shots of us 
and then slipped each of us a twenty dollar bill. At one point the guy 
was shooting pictures of Eric as Eric leaned back on a bale of hay. I 
was standing slightly behind the guy and as I looked at Eric, I could 
see that the end of his monster cock was clearly visible inside the 
right leg of his shorts where they had ridden up on his body a little. 
I quickly gestured to Eric and without drawing attention to what he was 
doing, he just shifted his position a bit and in the process smoothed 
his shorts down so that his cock was fully covered up again. I don't 
think the guy taking the photographs even noticed!

It's been several weeks now since Eric's, well, "growth" and he seems 
pretty happy with what happened to his body. Whenever we're off by 
ourselves, he'll always be playing with his cock. There are times when 
he should be helping me with the horses and he's off somewhere stroking 
his cock and jerking off. "Hey, quit playing with that thing and get 
over here and help me!" I had to yell at him a couple of times. He 
would come over but he'd have this pissed off look on his face and I 
could tell that he'd rather be doing something else. When we go 
bareback horse riding, he usually doesn't wear any clothes, just 
sandals to protect his feet, and he'll have his big dick just flopping 
back and forth as the horse trots along. And even when he isn't holding 
it in his hands he finds ways to play with it. We were repairing a 
couple of weak sections in the fencing at the corral this afternoon and 
I noticed that Eric was over by one of the fence posts, straddling it 
with his legs and rubbing his cock up against the fence post. Jesus, 
talk about being single minded!

But seeing how obsessed Eric is with his dick, I've kind of been 
wondering what it would be like to have an organ that big. I just can't 
imagine the feeling of having that ten pound tube of flesh hanging from 
my crotch and filling my shorts. I even had a dream about it a couple 
of nights ago – except in the dream my dick was so huge that it dragged 
on the ground as I walked along. When I woke up after the dream I found 
that I'd shot my wad into my diaper.

You know, I've been thinking about what happened to me and Eric the 
first time, and then what happened to Eric a second time, and I've been 
wondering if it had anything to do with the mud in that cave that we 
were exploring. That's the only thing that I can think of. Like, the 
first time after we played poopie pants with the mud both of our dicks 
got a little bigger. And then later on, after that time when Eric 
slipped in the mud and got all covered, his cock grew as large as it is 
now within a week or so. Hmmm, could be.

OK. I decided. I'm going to the cave again and see what happens. 
Yesterday as we were finishing up, I told Eric that he'd have to care 
for the horses alone today as I had some errands to take care of. I got 
to the corral early this morning, got one of the horses and rode up to 
the mine. Took me a little while to find it again as I had only been 
there twice before but I located it. Tying the horse outside, I went 
into the mine. Remembering how messy the mud was, I stripped off my 
clothes and sandals and hiked down into the lower section of the mine 
where the water had collected and formed the mud. Wow! It smelled even 
worse this time than I had remembered. I stood by the edge of the muddy 
section for a couple of minutes, asking myself if I really wanted to go 
through with the experiment, but then I figured that I'd come this far 
so I might as well continue. I gingerly walked out into the muddy 
section till I found a spot that was about eight inches deep. I slowly 
sat down in the mud and let it flow back over my legs and lower body, 
completely covering my crotch, balls and dick. It didn't feel as cold 
as I had thought it would and it had kind of a greasy feel to it. As I 
was sitting there I thought: "You know, if anyone came into the mine 
and found me like this I'd look pretty stupid", but of course there 
wasn't another soul within miles of me.

After several more minutes I figured that just sitting there was kind 
of boring, and I didn't know how long it took for things to start to 
happen – if in fact anything at all would happen. So I reached down 
into the muck and grabbed my balls and cock and gradually began to play 
with them. The greasy mud lubricated my hands and the feel of them 
sliding over my dick soon had me fully aroused and it wasn't much 
longer before I came. After that I just put my hands behind me, leaned 
back a little, and just sat there enjoying the feel of the greasy mud 
against my body. But all good things must come to an end and I 
eventually had to get to my feet, make my way back to the mine 
entrance, mount the horse and ride back to the corral - stopping at a 
stream to wash the remaining mud off myself and the horse. "Gee", I was 
thinking, "If the mud really does something to people, what would it do 
to a horse?" I got a mental picture of a horse with a huge penis 
dragging on the ground behind him and laughed out loud. Anyway, by the 
time I got back to the corral, it was just beginning to get dark and 
Eric had done his work and gone home for the day. I realized that I'd 
stayed in the cave much longer that I had planned to. But at the same 
time I was kind of disappointed as I looked down at my dick: not a bit 
bigger, no rash, no swelling, no nothing. "So much for that 
experiment", I thought as I walked home.

When I woke up the next morning, I lay in bed for a few minutes just 
enjoying the relaxing feel you get when you awaken from a good night's 
sleep. Then, as I remembered what I had done the previous day I quickly 
reached down into my diaper and felt around in my crotch. Did "things" 
feel a little bigger? I threw off the blanket, opened up my diaper and 
looked down at myself – nope, no change. "Ahhh well", I thought, "At 
least I know that whatever happened to us has nothing to do with the 
mud.

"So, what were all of your important errands yesterday?", Eric asked 
when I met him at the trading post later that morning.

"Oh, nothing special, just something that I had to do. Kind of a waste 
of time, actually", I replied.

I guess it was a little over a week later when I was changing my diaper 
one evening that it seemed like my dick might be just a little bigger? 
"Nah, just my imagination", I thought. But by the next morning I could 
see that it was a little larger. It wasn't huge like Eric's or 
anything, but it was a little larger and my diaper and jeans felt just 
a little tighter in the crotch. By the end of that day I could tell 
that I was definitely larger and as I was walking home, I had to unsnap 
my jeans and unzip the fly to eliminate the painful tightness as my 
swelling penis strained against the fabric of my diaper and jeans. 
Before I went to bed that night I located another pair of my older 
brother's Boardshorts and put them by my bed – just in case.

The next morning as I gradually awakened, I felt something different in 
my bed – like there was a roll of bedding between my legs or something. 
I rolled over and felt this unaccustomed weight pulling at my crotch 
and my diaper felt painfully tight. Suddenly jolted awake, I opened my 
diaper to and gazed in awe at the sight of the huge dick nestled 
between my legs. WOW! I was almost as big as Eric. I refastened my 
diaper, straining its cotton fabric to contain my large genitals, 
pulled on the baggy shorts and ran to the trading post. "Guess we got 
two Skater Boy Navajos this morning", someone called out as I entered - 
I just smiled a little. I noticed Eric looking at me a little strangely 
but I didn't say anything till we got to the corral, whereupon I 
dropped my shorts and diaper, and just stood there with my large dick 
revealed in all its glory.

"What? How?" Eric just stammered.

"It's the cave, stupid. The mud has something to do with it. I don't 
know how it works, but you can see the results", I said as I picked up 
my large member with both hands and held it out in front of me. "I'm 
almost as big as you are", I continued.

Turns out that there weren't any tourists for trail rides that day so 
other than caring for the horses, we had the day off so we just 
relaxed, went riding, took a swim in the stream and just generally 
admired the size of each other's body – well we didn't admire the whole 
body, just the "interesting" parts of it.

If I was surprised when I had awakened yesterday morning to find out 
how much my dick had enlarged during the night, I was surprised again 
this morning to find out that the enlargement had continued, although 
at a slower rate. I don't know whether it was because I had spent 
longer in the mud than Eric had the second time, or whether the mud 
affected different folks to a greater or lesser degree, but I was 
certainly larger than Eric now. I didn't take the time to measure 
myself but I looked to be about fifteen inches long and almost five 
inches in thickness. When I stood up, the tip of my huge penis now hung 
several inches below my knees, and I had to be careful when walking, as 
when its weight swung back and forth, it tended to throw me off balance 
a little. But a little practice solved that problem and I found that I 
could walk normally with a little care. Even with the baggy shorts on, 
the bottom of the shorts only fell below the tip of my penis by several 
inches, and when I sat down, if I wasn't careful, you could see the end 
of my dick poking out the bottom of my shorts. I loosened the 
drawstring in the waist of my shorts and let them ride lower on my 
hips. That brought the bottom of my shorts down almost to my ankles and 
covered me up pretty well. The only problem that I still had was that I 
was now so big that I couldn't fit myself into my diaper. "Oh hell", I 
thought, I'll just take my chances and hope I don't have a problem", 
and left my diaper off that morning.

The look on Danny's face when he saw me walk into the trading post with 
my shorts down around my ankles, and then later at the corral when I 
stripped my shorts off and showed him how big I had become was so 
funny. His jaw dropped, he got this look of amazement on his face, and 
he just gasped!

"So, who's the biggest one in the neighborhood now?" I asked. He didn't 
have an answer.

Things were pretty good for about a week, and then disaster struck. I'd 
been pretty lucky in not wearing a diaper. I had had a number of bowel 
movements but they were always at times or locations where either Eric 
or no one else was present so I could clean myself off without anyone 
being the wiser. But yesterday afternoon at the trading post when we 
were getting ready to take the horses back to the corral, I felt 
something warm running down my legs and getting into my shorts, and 
realized that I was pooping. Oh crap! I was shitting myself right in 
front of everyone. And to make it worse the weight of the poop in my 
shorts dragged them down off my hips and all of a sudden I was standing 
there with my shorts down on the floor around my ankles, poop running 
down my legs, and my huge cock exposed for the world to see. I just 
stood there in shock for several seconds as the tourists and other 
Indians at the trading post stared at me. Then I snapped out of it, 
pulled up my shorts, and bolted from the trading post. I was too 
embarrassed and humiliated to go home so I spent the night huddled in 
an abandoned trailer that Eric and I had found out in an arroyo several 
miles from the trading post.

It was near noon on the following day when I heard someone moving 
outside the trailer and then a voice called: "Danny, you there?" It was 
Eric.

"Yeah, come on in", I called back.

"You OK? That was a tough thing to happen yesterday", he said as he 
came in, and I began to feel a little better till he continued: "Word 
of what happened has spread all over the place. And one of your 
'friends' at the trading post snapped a picture of you with his 
cellphone and he's been e-mailing it all over the place."

Oh CRAP! So everyone now not only knew that I had shit myself 
yesterday, they also had a picture of me naked with my equipment 
exposed? There was no way I was going to live this one down.

I told Eric that I just wanted to get away from here for awhile. He 
asked me what my plans were and I told him that I didn't have any plans 
but just wanted to get away from where folks knew me. I'd figure out 
what my plans were later on. He surprised me by saying that he'd come 
along with me – "….. after all, that's what friends are for, isn't it?"

So he went back to his place and threw some clothes, and water and a 
little food into his backpack and in the late afternoon we started 
hiking down the dusty road leading away from the trading post.

Even though it gets pretty hot during the day, it cools down rapidly 
after dark. By about ten that night we had put about fifteen miles 
between us and the trading post. The night sky was cloudless and we 
hiked along under millions of stars. But it was beginning to get pretty 
cold and we were wondering what we should do for the night. We were in 
a pretty barren stretch of the countryside and there wasn't any shelter 
that we could see. By the time it was getting close to midnight, we 
were both pretty cold and tired and were wondering whether taking off 
like that was the smartest thing that we'd ever done.

It was shortly after that when we saw headlights approaching from 
behind us and then hear the sound of a motor. A minute or so later a 
pickup truck shot past us, then pulled over to the side of the road a 
quarter mile or so ahead of us, and then backed up to us. The 
passenger's side window rolled down and a guy stuck his head out of the 
window. He looked familiar but at first I couldn't remember where I had 
seen him and then I recognized him as the guy who had taken all the 
pictures of us at the trading post. "Kinda late and cold to be hiking 
around out here isn't it?" he asked.

"Uh yeah", I just stammered, not know what else to say.

"Well, I don't know how far you're headed but you can ride along with 
me for a ways if you want, at least till the next town", he offered. 
Eric and I looked at each other for a minute or so. We weren't too wild 
about accepting a ride from a stranger, but we also weren't too wild 
about freezing our asses off in the desert in the middle of the night. 
"OK", Eric said and we got in the truck – Eric in the seat in the 
jumpseat in the back of the crew cab and me in the passenger's seat. I 
think we were both pretty tired, the heater made the truck's cab warm 
and comfortable, and we were soon both fast asleep.

It must have been midmorning when I began to wake up. At first I 
couldn't remember what had happened or why I was in a truck but then it 
all came back to me. The driver saw me stirring, looked over at me and 
said: "You must have been tired, we're covered almost four hundred 
miles and we'll be at my place up in the Wasatch Mountains outside of 
Ogden, Utah in another hour or so." As he was talking, I saw his eyes 
drift down toward my waist and as I looked down, I realized that as I 
had moved in my sleep, my shorts had ridden up on my body, and the 
lower eight inches of my enormous cock was exposed where it lay draped 
over my left leg. I blushed and scrambled to cover myself up as the 
driver continued: "That's OK. You think I didn't notice how well 
endowed you guys were when I was taking the pictures? My name's Len, by 
the way."

Well I was getting kind of freaked out by that time. Like it was less 
than a day ago when Eric and I just planned on putting some distance 
between us and Kayenta, Arizona – and now here we were with a guy we 
didn't know, four hundred miles from home, and he was going to take us 
to his cabin up in the mountains. I think he must have seen the look of 
worry on my face for he remarked: "Of course, you don't have to come up 
to my cabin if you don't want. I just thought you guys might want to 
hang out there for a couple of days and relax a little. I heard what 
happened to you back at the trading post. But I can drop you off 
anywhere that you'd like between here and my place – by the side of the 
road, at a police station, wherever."

"Uh, if we come, can we leave whenever we want?" I asked.

"Yeah, sure. I can give you a ride back into town whenever you want. 
And I've got a phone if you want to make any calls", he answered.

I kind of squirmed around in my seat and looked back at Eric and he was 
giving me this "I don't know what the fuck to do" look so I turned back 
to Len and said: "OK, we'll come along."

During the last hour or so of the ride, Len told us a little more about 
himself – turns out that he teaches math at a local community college, 
had just gone through a divorce, and had been driving around the 
southwest in his truck for the past month or so getting his act 
together. Turns out that his place in the woods wasn't all that bad 
either. He's got a cabin on a small lake and there's a small bunkhouse 
next to the cabin that Eric and I can use. Even though it was only 
early afternoon when we got there, Eric and I just headed off to the 
bunkhouse, crawled into a bunk, fell asleep and slept till the 
following morning. Other than awakening to find ourselves in pee soaked 
bunks in the morning, we felt pretty good and heard Len moving around 
in the cabin so we hiked over and found that he'd prepared a huge 
breakfast – eggs, sausage and bacon, pancakes, rolls and toast, fresh 
fruit – you name it and he had it on the table. At home, Eric and I 
were usually pretty light eaters but we hadn't had anything to eat for 
over a day and we really chowed down. After we finished stuffing 
ourselves, we walked down to the small lake, lay down on the dock in 
the sun and took a short nap. If Len had any neighbors on the lake, we 
couldn't see any evidence of them – no other houses, docks or boats. So 
after napping in the sun for awhile we just stripped off our clothes 
and went skinny dipping in the lake. Sure a lot different than bathing 
in one of the small streams back home – and a LOT colder too! After 
we'd been swimming for about an hour, the sun was overhead and Len was 
calling us to come back up for lunch – another huge feast!

Eric and I had been through a lot in the last couple of days and we 
took the next couple of weeks and just relaxed. Didn't do much but 
sleep, eat, nap, and hang out down by the lake – either swimming or 
just lying in the sun. Since it was just the two of us and Len, and he 
already know what we looked like, Eric and I didn't wear clothes most 
of the time, except in the evening when it got chilly we'd pull on a 
sweatshirt or a sweater. Actually, not wearing clothes and hanging out 
down by the lake had another benefit – it was easier to keep ourselves 
cleaned off! The humidity was a lot higher, and it wasn't as warm up in 
the mountains, so when our dicks dribbled pee it didn't dry up and I 
was still having the problem that I couldn't control my bowels. So it 
was a heck of a lot easier just to roll off the dock into the lake 
every so often and wash ourselves off. Every couple of days we'd have 
to haul the blankets out of the bunkhouse, rinse them off in the lake, 
and hang them up to dry but that wasn't too time-consuming.

When we'd first agreed to go to Len's cabin I had been pretty nervous. 
That is, you hear all these stories about weirdoes and stuff, but Len 
was pretty cool. He left Eric and I alone for the most part and spent a 
lot of his time out hiking mountain trails, or running into town on 
errands, or in the cabin working on some class notes for one of the 
classes he taught. There were a couple of times that I caught him 
staring at Eric and me as we played around on the dock, but who 
wouldn't stare at a couple of teenage boys with dicks that hung down to 
their knees? And one of the nest things about Len was that he liked to 
cook. My folks had never been much for cooking – supper was usually 
something warmed up out of a can. But Len fixed three large meals every 
day, and snacks in the afternoon and evening – we'd never had it so 
good!

So one day just sort of turned into the next day, and on and on like 
that as Eric and I just sort of drifted along and the days turned into 
weeks and then the weeks into months. Now we both had darker skin to 
begin with because of our Navajo heritage and after spending several 
months out in the sun by the lake, we had both tanned to a rich dark 
mahogany color. Well, and there was one other change as well. Like I 
said, Eric and I never were big eaters at home, and we had been really 
active so both of us were pretty slim. But with the limited activity 
over the past couple of months, and the great meals that Len had been 
fixing, both of us had packed on some weight. There wasn't a set of 
scales at the cabin but I guessed that each of us had gained about 
fifty pounds. Now we weren't obese or anything, but we had both really 
filled out, our faces were rounder, we'd developed small second chins 
and had the beginnings of chubby bellies in place of our formerly flat 
stomachs.

We were down on the dock the other day and Eric was sitting on the 
edge, holding his dick in his hands and swishing it idly back and forth 
in the water when he said: "so, you're sure that it's the mud in that 
old mine that made us bigger?"

"I guess, why?" I asked.

He was quiet for several minutes and then he said: "Oh I dunno, but you 
ever wonder what it would be like to be even bigger?"

"Jesus Eric", I responded, "Like your cock is a foot long and mine 
hangs down below my knees. How much fucking larger could we get?"

"Oh, just wondering", he said, and then fell silent.

It must have been about a week later when we were eating supper and 
Eric looked at Len and asked: "Len, you ever wish your dick weren't so 
small?"

Len's face got red and he looked like he was going to choke on the last 
mouthful of food that he'd taken. After he got himself under control he 
looked back at Eric and asked: "For Christ's sake Eric, don't you guys 
have enough between your legs for a small army?"

Eric blushed red, and just mumbled something about "….. there's this 
cave we could show you …..", and fell silent.

After Len dumped on Eric at the supper table several weeks ago, Eric 
hadn't brought up the subject of the cave again, but I could tell that 
he wasn't happy. It must have been about a week or so later that I was 
down on the dock sprawled out on my stomach and reading a book. Eric 
had gone up to the cabin for a snack, his third of the afternoon, and 
when he returned I saw that he'd brought two bags of cookies with him. 
After he sat down heavily on the dock he began to stuff the cookies 
into his mouth, several at a time. "You know", I said, "You ought to 
cut down on that shit. You're getting pretty fat." Eric looked at me 
over his double chin, heaved himself to his feet and stood there. He 
now had these two fat tits that hung down on his chest, and his belly 
had developed into a large roll of fat that sagged down over his crotch 
and jiggled as he walked along.

"Well, you're a fine fucking friend", he said and lumbered up the path 
to the bunkhouse. As I watched his fat ass retreat up the path, it 
looked like he'd developed a sort of waddle.

Eric didn't show up for supper that night and Len and I started talking 
about him. We kind of agreed that Eric's overeating was because he 
wasn't happy. And to admit it, I wasn't all that happy either. Sure, 
Len and the cottage had been a great place to escape to for awhile. But 
face it, Eric and I are Navajo Indians and had lived in the desert all 
our lives. Living in the mountains just wasn't our thing. We wanted to 
go home.

Len agreed that we needed to return to our tribal lands, so we went out 
to the bunkhouse and asked Eric to come over to the cabin for a talk. 
As he lowered his bulk gently into one of the chairs, Len and I told 
him what we'd been talking about, and asked him if he'd like to go home 
– his face immediately brightened way up. So for a couple of hours we 
kicked around what we should do. Neither Eric nor I wanted to go back 
and live with our folks, or wanted to have anything to do with the 
trading post – there was too much bad history there.

But it wasn't clear how two fifteen-year-old Indian boys could live by 
ourselves on the tribal lands. What Len suggested, and Eric and I 
agreed with, was that we pack our gear in his truck in a couple of 
days, head back to Kayenta, and just spend a week or so looking around 
and seeing what it might be possible for us to do. Then we could make a 
decision as to whether to stay somewhere on the tribal lands or return 
to the cottage. The only thing that Eric insisted on was that one of 
our first stops be at the mine – but that's another story……….