This is the continued story of Simon’s Journal.
I would highly recommend you read the first volume of this story, Thirteen Days before you begin this novel.

 

The following narrative is nearly a complete work of fiction.
Any similarity to actual individuals living or dead is completely unintentional.
If reading a coming of age story about boys wearing diapers and exploring their awakening sexuality is offensive or illegal in your area, then might I suggest you go read War and Peace or something equally stimulating.

 

Simon's Journal

Volume II

 

Thirteen Nights – After the Crusade

 

Written by

Danny
Author of Thirteen Days

 

 

Chapter - 3

PART 3 – Tuesday, March 02, 2004 – Those who live by the sword

 

I popped the pacifier out of my mouth and asked, “Uh, do you need changed, too?” I asked half hoping he’d say yes, and yet at the same time hoping he’d say no.

 

Without saying anything, he unbuttoned his pants, pulled down his zipper, and then slid down his pants enough that I could see his entire diaper for the second time. He looked at it too. “Nope, still dry!”

 

“What kind are they?” I asked not sure if he’d already told me or not.

 

“Pampers Size-6! Biggest diaper Pampers makes, they are for toddlers mostly but they fit kids our size and they hold a lot, too,” he said and started to pull up his pants again but I asked, “Can I look closer?”

 

“Yeah, sure!” he said and bent over so that he could push his pants all the way down to his shoes. He also lifted his shirt up past his chest, giving me a nearly full, uninhibited view of his boyish form.

 

I slipped the pacifier into my pocket and bent over as far as I could with my armor on, and had my face only inches from the front of his diaper. I could smell the unmistakable scent of baby powder and it was so wonderful.

 

“Go ahead, you can touch it!” he said, and I gratefully did!

 

It was so soft to the touch and warm, too. I was reminded of when Jamie had let me put a diaper on him, and how much I’d enjoyed doing that. I decided to take a chance. I cupped his diaper-encased boyhood parts in my hand, and squeezed gently. I could feel that he, like I’d been, was getting hard. I could also see that his diaper was starting to form a tent in the front, though not as prominent as mine had been.

 

Without removing my hand, I leaned back up so that I was looking into his irrefutable face again. He had his eyes shut, and his head leaning way back. I could see right down inside his nose, which by the way, was booger free. He was still holding his shirt up for me and hoping he’d let me, I let go of his diaper and started to remove his shirt. He never once opened his eyes; he only let loose of his shirt, raised his head forward again, and let me pull his shirt off him.

 

Now that I had him nearly naked, I decided I wanted him all the way down to just his diaper. So I took hold of his arms and pushed him back toward my bed. He utterly and eagerly yielded to my will as he sat himself down, still with his eyes shut. It only took the gentle touch of my hand to his chest to get him to lie down so that he was lying sideways across my bed, with the soles of his shoes still on the wooden floor. Kneeling down, I flipped off each of his shoes, and pulled off his snow-socks, before taking his pants the rest of the way off him.

 

Now that he was stretched out there, clad only in his baby diaper, I took his bare feet and lifted them up onto the bed. He turned his body so that his head was now resting just below my pillow. It was completely obvious that he was enjoying this as much as, if not more, than I had when he’d changed me. All the same, I sure was enjoying me having my way with his young body. I wonder if that is how it was for Tater that night I’d slept over at his house?

 

I sat on the edge of the bed so that I was sitting perpendicular to his right hip. Then, reaching down, I spread his knees apart until one was resting against my bottom, and the other was as far from me as I could get it without making him uncomfortable. Like a hungry wolf, I reached up and grabbed his diapered crotch as hard as he had done mine earlier, except that when he had grabbed me, I didn’t have a diaper between his claw-like hand and my groin. Instead of yelling out as I’d done, he only let out a small moan. I could feel that he was fully erect within his diaper, and as much as I wanted to see it, I didn’t want to rush this; I was having way too much fun with him.

 

Sort of in a rhythmic dance, I started squeezing his diaper, and after several firm squeezes, he started to pump his hips in time with each squeeze. The longer I kept this up, the harder he pumped, and when I thought he might be getting close to climaxing, I stopped and just pressed my flat hand against his diaper, forcing his penis to lie inside his diaper while pointing up to his stomach.

 

When he stopped pumping, but was still breathing heavy, I took my hand away and moved myself so that I had my back to him, sitting up by his chest, looking down at his diaper. I laid my hand on his belly and he sucked in a hard breath at my touch. I slowly worked my fingers under the waistband of his diaper. It was so hot, but still dry inside. I felt his stiff hot boy-toy twitch at my slightest touch, and when I had my whole hand inside his diaper; I wrapped my fingers around it and started to move my hand back and forth. Within seconds, he started to wiggle his legs and arms all over the place, but I stopped after only a minute or so, pulled my hand free, took hold of the left tape, and pulled it. It came right open, thanks to the tape strip across the front of the diaper. I pulled the other tape off too, and finally opened his diaper to view the prize that awaited me inside.

 

He was breathing harder then ever, and now free of the confines of the diaper, his penis was standing straight up from his body. He wasn’t as big as me, maybe two and a half inches hard, and very thin, but the head of it was nearly purple and was bigger than his shaft. The skin of his diaper area was coated in a light dusting of baby-powder, and it was apparent that this area of his body had not seen the sun in a very long time, if ever.

 

Again, I wrapped my hand around him. This time I started to stroke up and down. Slowly at first, then getting faster and faster. After maybe two minutes, he arched his back, gasped, and bit his bottom lip. I turned to see a tear or two escape out of the corner of his left eye, which was like the other, clamped tightly closed. No boy juices came out of him as they had me, but it was obvious that he’d had an orgasm, just as I had; only his was dry. He stayed arched for the longest time before finally collapsing onto my bed and breathing so hard, that his chest would heave, and his stomach would collapse with each deep, gasping breath.

 

While he was resting, I pulled his diaper back up and taped it into place without saying a word. He finally opened his eyes and though I know he hadn’t been, he looked like he’d been crying. His bangs were plastered to his forehead with sweat. I helped him sit up, and he wiped the sweat off his face with his hand.

 

“Whoa!” he exclaimed, as he ran his hand though his hair.

 

“Yeah tell me about it!” I said back to him.

 

“Here, let me get you dressed again.” I offered but he said, “Hang on, let me catch my breath.”

 

I laughed softly and dared to ask, “You done this before huh?”

 

That smile of his returned, and leaning toward me, he whispered, “Would you believe me if I said no?”

 

“I’d believe anything you said!” came my matter-of-fact reply.

 

Without missing a beat, he said back, “In that case, you should know . . .” he paused, looked around the room as if looking for spies, and then continued, “I’m not really who you, or anyone else, thinks I am!”

 

Adopting his secretive tone I asked, “Then who are you?”

 

He leaned even closer to me, “If I told you, I’d have to have you killed!”

 

Still whispering as if we were swapping great government secrets, I said, “That’s okay, I’ve been mostly dead before . . .” I looked around the room myself before adding, “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be, but at least you get all the ice-cream you can eat!”

 

At that, Lowell erupted into fits of laughter, fell over, and laid spread eagle on my bed again.

 

“Okay, really now!” I said, taking his hand and helping him back up.

 

“What?” he said, wiping at his face again with his hands and still giggling.

 

“Have you ever done, uh, that before?” I sheepishly asked.

 

He shook his head, “Never!” and then slapping his hands on his knees, “You ever hear of Cyber-sex?”

 

“Huh?” I said, while screwing up my face to show my puzzlement.

 

“Ah, guess not! Boy, how it must seem to be inside that head of yours!” Lowell said while poking me in the forehead with his finger.

 

“What are you talking about?” I slapped his hand away as I said it.

 

He stood up and started to reach for his pants, but I was quicker and snatched them away from him before he could get to them. “Not until you answer my question, and none of that mumbo-jumbo! Speak American!” I joked.

 

“Fine! I’ll just stay in my diapers then!” Lowell teased as he turned and wiggled his diapered butt in my face.

 

With such a magnificent target offered up before me, I couldn’t resist the temptation. I cocked my right arm over my left shoulder, and let loose a swinging backhand that made contact right on target. Lowell started dancing around, holding his butt, and saying, “Ouch, Ooooow, that really smarts! Ouchie!”

 

“Oh shut up! You couldn’t have felt that through your diaper!” I said.

 

“You wanna try it?” He said, rubbing his backside and frowning at me.

 

 “When you came in here I couldn’t shut you up, now I can’t get you to talk!” I cocked my arm again, “Unless you want another one, you best start s’plainin.”

 

Lowell backed up against my desk, and was doing a very good job of acting like the little kid he looked like as he stood there, wearing only that Pampers diaper.

 

“Okay, but let me put on my clothes first?” he tried to haggle with me.

 

“I’ll dress you while you talk!” I haggled back.

 

“Deal! But no more spankin’s, ‘kay?” he said, still rubbing the back of his diaper.

 

“No promises there!” I winked, and he groaned.

 

He stepped closer to where I was kneeling on the floor again. I held out his pants for him to step into while he was telling me about Cyber-sex.

 

“Okay, I’ve never actually done anything like that, not for real. But I have done Cyber-Sex online. You see, sometimes I make believe I am someone older on the computer so that I can get guys and girls to talk about sex stuff with me. It’s really a lot of fun, and it is so way funny sometimes!” Lowell said, as I was zipping up his pants.

 

I stood up and pulled his shirt over his head before he had his arms up, and as a result, I had him trapped in his own shirt. When his head and left arm finally emerged from their proper openings, Lowell was smiling as big as ever! “My Dad does that to me, too!” he beamed.

 

“Okay, sit on the bed for a sec’ while I put your socks and shoes back on your foots!” I said and Lowell snickered at my use of the word ‘foots’ instead of ‘feet’.

 

“Has anyone ever found out you were just a kid, pretending?” I asked while trying to put on one of his socks onto his foot. “Stop spreading out your toes!” I said, and he giggled.

 

“Yeah, a couple times, but I just created a new screen name and no one is ever the wiser. But if my parents knew, they’d probably think I was demon-possessed or something like that!” He joked, but there was also an ounce or two of sincerity in the way he said it.

 

“Well, you could have fooled me! Uh, well, you did fool me actually! ‘Cause you sure seemed to know what you were doing today!” I said, finally getting his sock past his toes.

 

“You did too!” he said, and I couldn’t help but flush red.

 

Seeing me blush, he exclaimed in a shouting whisper, “Oh my good gravy! You’ve done it before!” He spoke with his hands over his mouth.

 

“Oh my good gravy?” I snickered.

 

“Don’t try to change the subject!” He gave my forehead a push, like those faith healers do on TV. “You got to tell me, and don’t leave out any details!” Lowell suddenly took hold of the hair on either side of my head, and was softly shaking my head from side to side. “Tell me!” he ranted.

 

“Okay! Stop already!” I said, pulling my head free from his grasp. I was working on getting one of his shoes untied as I spoke. “There’s really nothing to tell!”

 

I heard him take in a breath, as if he was about to make some profound objection, but I grabbed his pinky toe through his sock and gave it a twist.

 

“YEEEeeeooowwww!” He threw his head back and howled out. “What was that for?”

 

“To stop you from saying whatever it was you were about to say!” I shoved his shoe at him. “Here! I can’t get this knot out!”

 

“That’s ‘cause they are tied in double knot . . . Ah, man you got it all boogered up now!” he said in frustration. He started to bite at the knot.

 

“Don’t use your teeth!” I said, pulling the shoe away from him again!

 

“Well, that’s how I do it at home!” he said, trying to get the shoe back from me.

 

“Do you want another swat?” I wiggled a finger in front of his cute little nose.

 

“No!” He pouted.

 

“Then sit still and stop your squirming.” I commanded in my ‘dad’ voice.

 

“You’re mean!” he said, crossing his arms over his chest and jutting out his bottom lip as far as it would go.

 

“Yeah, and your short!” I shot back.

 

“Hey!” He complained and then laughed. I laughed, too.

 

“Okay, I got it now!” I said, finally getting his laces un-knotted. “Now put your foot in here and don’t play or I’ll spank your bare bottom!” I said and he obeyed, with that foot anyway.

 

“Sheesh! Well that’s one foot done!” I said, as he stuck his other bare foot up in my face.

 

“Don’t forget about this one!” he sang while wiggling his toes at me. I couldn’t help but laugh at him.

 

“You are cruising!” I warned. He just threw his head back and laughed until I got hold of his pinky toe on that foot.

 

“YEEEeeooow! No! Not that one too! Yeeouch, ouch, ouch!” he said, burying his face in his hands and squirming to get free!

 

I gave his toe a tug and it popped in my hand, which made him freeze for maybe half a second. Then he said, “Hey, that felt good! Do the rest!”

 

“No. Now sit still and let me get this sock on!” I said, pulling his sock on before he could spread out his toes this time.

 

“You are so mean!” he said again.

 

“We already had that conversation!” I joked.

 

“That doesn’t change the fact that you are still a big stinky meanie-head with messy hair!” he pouted more.

 

“I don’t have messy hair.” I said, but no sooner were the words out of my mouth than he started messing it all up. I just sat there, unmoved, while he continued to tousle and shake my hair all over the place.

 

When he stopped and leaned back again, he said very flatly, “There, now you do!”

 

I looked up at him sitting there with a satisfied smug expression across his face. “You feel better now?” I asked.

 

“Yep!” He said in a very high tone.

 

I had to work hard not to laugh at him, or how I must look now. I didn’t have to work so hard to get his other shoelace untied, but when I went to stick his shoe on his foot he curled up his toes so that I couldn’t get them into his shoe.

 

Instead of reacting as he hoped, I calmly sat his shoe on the floor beside me and looked up at him, “Um, are you ticklish?” I asked, very bland and calm like.

 

His eyes grew wide and he squealed, “No! Please don’t!” He had both hands held out in front of him as if that might stop me if I lunged at him. “Please Simon!” he begged and pleaded.

 

“So you are ticklish then!” I said in my best old time bad-guy voice while rubbing my hands together menacingly.

 

“Okay! Here, here, here!” he said, putting his foot out for me to put on his shoe, but I just looked at his foot with my head cocked to one side.

 

He immediately retracted it again. “NOOOO! PLEASE!” This time his pleading sounded genuine. “Come on Simon, I’m so ticklish! Please don’t tickle me?” he looked truly fearful that I was going to attack him. I will admit, I was soooooo thinking about doing it, but I didn’t. Instead, still calm like, I picked up his shoe and held it open. He quickly slipped his foot all the way into it. Without saying a word, I tied it in a double knot again for him.

 

“You weren’t really going to tickle me were you?” From the way he asked, I could tell that he was still worried that I might yet pounce.

 

With my chin down, I rolled my eyes up to meet his and hissed, “Would I do that?”

 

“Please don’t, I hate being tickled!” he said. I think, for the first time, I was seeing something very real about him.

 

“Uh, I think your printer is done!” he said, pointing up at it.

 

I knew he was just trying to distract me, but I went ahead and played along. I managed to scramble to my feet and pulled the printed pages from my printer before returning to my bed where I plopped myself down; right beside Lowell. I’d already started reading the very first page of Lowell’s story out loud.

 

Hamunaptra

City of the Dead

 

By B.L.

 

~ Chapter Two ~

“and a child shall lead the way”

 

“Oh! That is a good one!” I said pointing to Lowell’s subtitle.

 

“Yeah, I heard that in a movie once, and I thought it would be good.” Lowell said as he scooted closer to me so that he could read along with me. I continued reading aloud.

 

Six weeks had passed since I was released from the small local hospital. Miss Lillian Hassley had come everyday for two weeks to visit me there. She was even nearly fired from her job at the paper because she would not leave me alone in their miserable land. Not even for a single day. She knew I had no one now … now that both of my parents were dead.

 

There was something however that no one knew. Something that has been eating me alive from the inside. That first day when she came to the hospital, that moment when she told me how my father had died, that was the moment I started to die too. When she said, “I guess one of the men must have surprised him and shot him before he could get into the room.” I knew the bullet that had killed my father had come from my father’s own gun. The gun I had been holding, and the gun I had fired. “It was an accident! I kept telling myself, “You didn’t mean to fire the gun!” , Even though inside, deep within my heart, I knew the truth. Accident or not, I know that I killed my own father.

 

After being released from the hospital, which had been an emotional event for the three nurses and the doctor. They had come to think of me almost as their own child in those couple of weeks, and didn’t want to see me go. However, one can’t live in a hospital forever. When I was finally well enough to be discharged, I went to stay with Miss Lillian Hassley in a little backroom of a restaurant, while I continued to get my strength back. She had done some digging, or investigating as she called it, and was unable to discover who it was that had been after my father the night he died, or what it was they so earnestly wanted. During her investigation into the matter, Miss Lillian Hassley, the title by which I had gotten into the habit of calling her, although she constantly tried to get me to just call her Lillian, had asked me several times if I knew anything, anything at all. However, I honestly didn’t have a clue. She had also questioned me about something else. She asked me if my father had ever told me the story about a legendary city. A city that is supposed to only exist in storybooks and local folklore. The name of the city was Hamanaptra, the legendary City of the Dead.

 

“Woah!” I exclaimed rather abruptly, making Lowell jump.

 

“Sorry!” I said with a giggle, “But that’s a really good beginning for this chapter!”

 

“You think so?” I humbly asked.

 

“Yeah, and it’s not what I thought you were going to do next either.” I said.

 

Lowell cocked his head to one side and asked, “What were you expecting?”

 

“I don’t know. I figured there would be more about his hospital stay, or the nurses, or something like that!” I answered.

 

Seeing an almost disappointed look in Lowell’s eyes as he stared at the printed paged in my hands, I knew I had to reassure him further. “It’s great like this! I love it, really! I love when I can’t guess what’s going to happen next! When I read books or watch movies that I can guess the ending after just a few minutes, that bores me beyond words!” I said, and Lowell seemed to brighten up again.

 

“You know something?” Lowell looked serious.

 

“What?” I asked.

 

“You read really good!” he said. It wasn’t what I was expecting him to say. Actually, I’ve no idea what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that.

 

“Uh, um, thanks!” I said uncomfortably.

 

“No, I mean you read like they do for audio books.” Lowell said.

 

“What are audio books?” I asked.

 

Lowell stuttered slightly while he searched for what he wanted to say, “Well, ah-um, they – they are books that people read out loud and record for people to listen to.” Lowell scrunched up his cute little nose and asked, “You’ve never heard of audio books?”

 

“Never!” I assured.

 

“Wow, I listen to all kinds, all the time! It’s like having someone reading a bedtime story to me, except I listen to them even when I’m not going to bed.” Lowell said.

 

“Where do you get them?” I asked.

 

“The library mostly.” He said with a shrug.

 

“Really?” I said, mostly because I didn’t know what else to say.

 

“Yeah, they have hundreds and hundreds of them!” Lowell said.

 

“What kinds?” I asked.

 

With exasperation in his voice, he said, “Every kind!” flinging his hands into the air as if demonstrating the vastness of the selection. “The last couple of days I’ve been listening to this kind of scary sort of mystery called ‘We All Fall Down’. It’s about this 11 year old boy that sees a bunch of older boys break into this house and trash everything inside and also try to force this one girl to have sex with them. The 11 year old boy is called ‘The Avenger’ . . .” Lowell stopped for a second and looked into the air as if he were trying to focus on something that wasn’t really there. “I ain’t figured out yet who ‘The Avenger’ is. I think he’s a good guy, but then he’s already killed one of the bad-boys, and also his own grandfather who used to be a police officer when he was younger. I mean before he got old.”

 

 “Wow that sounds like a weird book.” I said and then asked, “Your parents let you read stuff like that?”

 

“They don’t really know that I get those kinds of audio books and I don’t always get books like that one. Sometimes I get kid books, and sometimes I get books that aren’t stories at all, but are about stuff like science, or space, or dinosaurs. Just depends on what sounds and looks good when I am picking them out.” Lowell shrugged again, and was about to say something else, but I sort of butted in.

 

“Does your mom and dad ever read to you still?” I could tell my question threw him slightly.

 

“Sometimes, but only on special occasions.” Lowell confessed, before returning the question to me, “Does yours?”

 

“Naw, not for a long time!” I answered.

 

“You should get some audio books then. It’s almost the same as having someone read to you.” Lowell slapped his hands on his thighs, “Heck, sometimes its better, because then you can listen to stuff your parents would never let you read.”

 

“Yeah!” is all I said back to him.

 

“Keep reading!” Lowell pushed the printed chapter that I still had clutched in my fingers up off my lap.

 

“Um, it’s your story. You read it to me!” I said, and Lowell, he got a really weird look on his face.

 

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

 

He hung his head as if he were about to cry. “What?” I asked again.

 

“I don’t read so good!” he confessed without looking at me at all.

 

Not really understanding what he meant, I asked, “What do you mean?”

 

“I mean, I don’t read so good!” he repeated.

 

“But I don’t understand, you wrote this, right?” I asked.

 

“I can read and write, but I, uh, out loud it just doesn’t come out right.” His voice sounded broken and sorrowful.

 

Finally understanding what he was saying, “Oh, you mean reading out loud!?”

 

“Yeah!” he barely answered back.

 

“Well that’s okay!” I assured him.

 

He looked up at me with glassy eyes. “You just need to practice is all! My Mom used to make me sit at the kitchen table and read stuff to her while she cooked. I’ve read stuff like my comic books, the Sunday funnies, or stuff out of my textbooks. All just for the practice!” I gave him a slight nudge with my elbow. “You just need to practice!” I said again. “Here, start practicing with this, and don’t feel bad if you don’t read it so good out loud, just do it! It’s only me here and I’m not going to laugh!”

 

Slowly, as if not sure he wanted to try, he reached out, took the pages from me, and held them in front of himself.

 

“Come on! Start reading!” I nudged him again, only harder this time. He shot me a cold stare.

 

“Don’t give me that look! Read, or I’ll tickle you for sure!” His coldness morphed into a kind of fear.

 

“Okay, but don’t you dare laugh!” he warned, and after a heavy sigh he asked, “Where’d you stop?”

 

I pointed to the fourth paragraph and said, “Right here!”

 

He sighed again before he started reading.

 

Now I knew the story very well. My father must have told it to me a thousand times while I was growing up. It was supposed to be a fairy tale. A legend, and nothing more.

 

Lowell stopped reading and looked up from the pages.

 

“Why’d you stop? You were doing good!” I assured him.

 

“No I wasn’t! I don’t sound anything like you!” He said with a sneer.

 

Not really knowing I did it until afterward, I put my right arm around his shoulders, and hugged him to my side. “Look! I didn’t get good at reading out loud after just two sentences, and you won’t either! You got to keep practicing!” I smiled and added, “You really aren’t as bad as you think! I like listening to you read! Keep going, please?”

 

The corners of Lowell’s mouth curled up slightly before he again took up the reading. As I listened to him, I noticed my arm was around him and wondered when I’d put it there. It felt nice holding him as he read, so I left my arm draped around him.

 

However, I had heard Miss Lillian Hassley telling my father that they (whoever ‘they’ were) had found the city. She didn’t know that I had been listening in on the conversation, and I wasn’t ready to let on that I knew more than she thought I did; not yet anyway.

 

I knew a lot more, I mean about archeology and anthropology, than anyone really ever gave me credit for knowing, or being able to handle. I knew a lot more than just about the legendary lost city.

 

My Father had been the only one to ever give me the credit I deserved. Thanks to Father, I know how to speak seven languages fluently, and can muddle my way through many more if I have too. I am probably the only child in this day and age that can read, write and speak, ancient Egyptian, and probably one of only a handful of any age that can do it. However, beyond all my book knowledge that my Father drilled into my head nearly every waking moment of my young life, I still knew so much more that he and others thought I knew.

 

I knew by the age of six that my mother had been killed when I was a small boy after being trapped in a pyramid, when a tunnel that the local grave robbers had dug the night before had collapsed in on her. I knew at age eight, that my father’s best friend, my godfather, was killed when he tried to smuggle twenty-seven Jews out of a German occupied area and was caught, tortured, and finally executed. Moreover, and most importantly, I knew that at the age of twelve, I had shot and killed my Father, and that I no longer had anyone but myself to rely on.

 

Lowell stopped reading again and looked up at me again.

 

“What?” I asked softly.

 

“You really think I read okay?” he asked.

 

I gave him a squeeze with the arm I had around him and said, “Really, really!” to which he smiled bigger this time, and continued to read aloud to me.

 

Having traveled with my father for all those years I was able to learn so many things from him; much more than I ever could have learned sitting at a desk in some over-crowded classroom. He also managed to pass down to me his love for anthropology, and taught me so much about life, whether it be past, present, or even the possible future of mankind. He often told me that I knew more about ancient cultures than most of the greatest minds of our age.

 

Because I have always been a little short, and a lot skinny, I usually had been the one that got to explore all the little nooks and crannies of caves, pyramids, burial mounds, and so much more. Although my father got the credit, I was the first person in over three thousand years to look upon the twelve ritualistic statues of Amenities, buried within the now famous catacombs under Tibet.

 

My father had taught me something else as well. Something he knew would one day be the most important thing he could ever impart to me. As a young boy, he taught me the riddle of the dead city; better known to the rest of the world as Hamunaptra, the City of the Dead. Moreover, it is thanks to that riddle, that I believe I have figured out whom my father and Miss Lillian Hassley meant when they said they were looking to find, ‘Him’.

 

During the weeks I stayed with Miss Lillian Hassley, I managed to regain my full strength and nearly wholly recovered aside from a slight, yet irksome, wheezing sound whenever I breath, which the doctor told me I may have for the rest of my life due to the scaring of my lungs. I also still had a cough that seemed to only plague me when I was tired, or breathing too hard and deep, which I discovered the day I had been sitting in the window of our little make-shift apartment, watching the locals. I saw one, absolutely beautiful girl, that looked to be just about my age, walk by. She wasn’t covered in veils, or a hooded cloak, but rather was walking around in regular clothing that any girl her age might wear if they had grown up in the American States. However, one look at her, and I knew she was obviously not from America. Neither was she a local girl. As I watched her walk by, never seeing her face clearly, I found myself panting, with a strong stirring within my pants that I’d never felt before. The more excited I got watching her, the harder my breathing became, until I began to cough and nearly fell out of the window. After that, Miss Lillian Hassley forbid me to sit in the window. Whenever I would go near it, she’d clear her throat to let me know she was watching.

 

Despite Miss Lillian Hassley’s repeated attempts to get me to call her by her first name, even to the point of yelling at me whenever I’d address her with her full name, I always addressed her as Miss Lillian Hassley. We both knew why, although neither of us ever voiced it. I was hurting inside, and despite her excellent, and sometimes overly protective care for me, I refused to allow myself to get close to her or anyone ever again.

 

Yet again Lowell stopped reading and looked my way.

 

“Now what?” I said.

 

He only smiled without saying a word.

 

“What?” I smiled back.

 

“I just wet myself!” he said.

 

Shocked at this announcement, it took me a second or two to absorb it. I eventually asked, “Uh, do you need changed then?”

 

Lowell shook his head violently hard from side to side making his hair fly out with the force of it. “Nope! Not yet!” he was grinning and looking so adorable.

 

I grabbed for the pages of the story, “Give me these!” I demanded, but not in a mean way.

 

Lowell looked kind of surprised at first. At least until I said while setting the pages down on the left side of me, away from him. “Stand up!” Still having my arm around him, I was able to give him a push, so that he stood before me with his arms hanging down to his side.

 

He didn’t protest at all as I unbuttoned the front of his pants and unzipped them too. Now, I supposed I could have checked the condition of his diaper just by pulling open his pants. Instead, I chose to pull them all the way down to his knees and with a single quick glance, I saw that he liked that sort of treatment.

 

With one hand I pulled at the waistband of his diaper, and with my other hand I thrust it down into the front of his diaper. With my hand still in his diaper I announced, “I don’t know, from the feel and the look of it, I’d say you are pretty wet!”

 

But Lowell again, with the same violent head rattling shook his head. “No! I can wait a little longer! I don’t think I’m done.”

 

At that, I suddenly felt a strong warmth covering my hand, which was still down inside his diaper. I knew what he was doing but still playing his little game I asked anyway. “Are you peeing on my hand?”

 

“Well, you shouldn’t have it in there!” He teased.

 

I pulled my hand out of his diaper. Sure enough, it was glistening with Lowell’s pee.

 

I wrinkled up my nose and said, “You nasty, nasty boy!” which Lowell absolutely soaked up.

 

Since his pack was still sitting there open, I reached down and pulled out the small travel container of wipes, took one out, and wiped my hand clean before returning the container to his pack.

 

Lowell just stood there grinning with his pants down around his knees and his diaper fully exposed. Feeling frisky and daring, I reached up and took hold of the front of his shirt and pulled him forward. As if he knew what I was thinking, he allowed himself to lay face down across my lap, leaving his diapered bottom right there in the open and ready to be spanked.

 

His willingness surprised even me, since he’d complained so much earlier when I’d given him a backhanded swat on his diapered butt. Just to test him, to see if he’d really protest, I gave him a hard smack with the palm of my hand right across his diaper. I felt his entire body tense up, but he didn’t try to get up of get away. I swatted him again, this time harder, and yet he still took it I could tell that he was sure feeling it. I raised my hand as high as I could without hurting myself, and brought it down as hard as I possibly could onto his diapered butt. That one did the trick, and I heard Lowell whimper. I gave him two more of my most forceful whacks and then stood him back up.

 

I was shocked to see that he was indeed crying, crying real tears that streaked down his face and dripped from his cheeks. For a moment I felt really bad that I’d made him cry, but then he said, “I’m sorry! I will be a good boy!” as he rubbed his diapered butt.

 

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. He was actually crying, yet it was still all just a game to him! All part of his teenbaby game! While I was looking at him, I must have smiled, because he smiled too, then threw himself onto my neck, and hugged me before sitting back down beside me again.

 

I looked down. That little stinker had managed to sneak the pages of his story away from me while he was hugging me. He gave me a sly glance while trying to look innocent.

 

“I wanna read some more to you!” he announced. Not waiting for my consent, he began right where he’d let off before.

 

In the first couple of weeks after I was released into her care, during the time I was not yet strong enough to fully care for myself, she would help feed me, bathe me, and even diapered me as I was too weak to walk outside to the outhouse. However, as my strength increased, so did my resolve that I would never again need anyone. In time, I took on more and more of my own personal care, including diapering myself. Diapers were something Miss Lillian Hassley insisted on since we were sharing the same bed.

 

When I knew I was strong enough, and healthy enough, I reached a decision I knew she wouldn’t like, but that I knew I had to do. Therefore, I approached Miss Lillian Hassley with my intentions, and her reaction was just what I had expected from her. I had decided that I was going to carry on my fathers dream and life’s work by going to Hamunaptra to find ‘Him’.

 

“That is out of the question!” She bellowed like the mannish person I’d met that very first time back in Jerusalem. It was also the first time she’d lost her cool so intensely since I’d known her.

 

“There is no way I am going to let you go down there!” She was squawking and almost spitting with furry. “I don’t care if you do think you can find the blasted burial site, there is no way I can let you go! What if the men that killed your father come after you next? Have you any idea how hard I’ve worked to keep anyone from knowing that you are here and still alive?”

 

She pounded her fist on the table, causing the plate before her the jump, tossing food everywhere. “No! Absolutely not! I will not allow it!”

 

I won’t lie, I was mad. I was burning inside with the power of twenty volcanoes, but I managed, somehow, to remain calm. “You will let me go, because I have to go. I have to finish what my father spent his life searching for; what he would still be doing right now if I …”

 

I could not bring myself to say it. Something inside me wanted to get it out, to finally confess the secret I was holding in for the past two months.

 

“If you what?” She shouted. Her head glowing with rage at the idea of me going to Egypt.

 

I looked her straight in the eyes, swallowed, and opened my mouth, yet I could not speak the words. I closed my mouth again, looked down at the table, and thought for a moment before I attempted to speak again.

 

“I know everything!” I tried to sound confident. I wasn’t so sure I was doing a very good job of it, but I was giving it my best try.

 

“What are you talking about boy?” She was almost foaming at the mouth.

 

I was struggling to keep my cool, but was failing a little more with each word I uttered. “I know about the city of Hamunaptra. I know you have found it!” My voice steadily grew in volume, “and I know you needed my father to find a special burial site within that city!”

 

I paused as it became apparent to me that yet again, I had begun to wet myself. Nevertheless, I was too worked up, and too focused, to let my wetting my diaper be a deterrent. Miss Lillian Hassley had seen me wet myself on many occasions over the past weeks, and knew that my problem usually happened when I was excited or worked up. It had become a morning ritual. I would wake up and she would already have the bathwater run for me to wash in. I’d climb out of bed, strip off the diaper, leaving it on the floor by the bed, before making my way to the tub. Whenever I have one of my accidents, it was the exact same thing. She would just go fill the tub without saying anything, and I would strip and get in it. She was always good about seeing that my clothes and the diapers were laundered by one of the local ladies.

 

From across the table I looked her straight in the eyes and shouted, . . .

 

As Lowell was happily reading away. I sat listening, both enraptured to be hearing the story, and to have the author, that’s Lowell, reading it to me. I was clutching my bedspread with anticipation of what was going to come next, but suddenly there was a knock at my bedroom door. Lowell jumped and sent the printed pages frying into the air. Having been leaning on Lowell as he’d been reading, I fell over when he jumped to his feet. We both started laughing as Lowell scrambled to get his pants pulled back up and fastened into place.

 

“Dinner’s ready boys!” Dad shouted through the door. I got up, still laughing, unlocked, and then opened my door.

 

“You boy’s sound like you’re having fun!” Dad said, and then saw the mess of papers all over the floor. “What happened?”

 

I was still laughing myself silly; so Lowell answered for me while he bent down to gather up the papers. “We was reading and when you knocked on the door you scared me!”

 

Dad chuckled, “Well, when you two are ready, dinner is ready!”

 

“Yeah, okay!” I snorted while helping Lowell.

 

“Man that was funny!” Lowell said after Dad left us again.

 

“Yeah! But just when the story was really getting good.” I countered.

 

“We can finish after we eat maybe.” Lowell said, as he handed me the jumbled stack he’d gathered. I stuffed them all into the lap drawer of my desk.

 

“Yeah, but we’ll have to resort the pages of this chapter!” I giggled.

 

When Lowell and I reached the kitchen, Mom was just carrying the plates into the dinning room. “There, you are! I hope you two are hungry!”

 

“Boy am I!” Lowell said.

 

Just as we always did when Jamie was over, Mom and Dad sat at either end of the table while Lowell and I sat across from one another. Lowell of course, was in Jamie’s normal seat. Lowell was being a perfect gentleman, so I too had to put on my best manors so as not to be shown up by him. I could just hear Mom saying, “Why can’t you be more like your little friend?” So it sort of became a kind of competition to see who could be the most well-mannered. I know Mom and Dad were blown away, and I know it don’t sound like much fun, but it was, at least for Lowell and I.

 

Next Installment:

Chapter 3 – Part 4 – Those who live by the sword - Continued

 

** For the latest news on how each installment is coming along as well as answers to questions asked by other readers and so much more, visit me at www.talkhard.5u.com. As always, your thoughts matter to me very, very much, so please send any comments, questions, suggestions, or criticism to me at: [email protected] and I promise that I will reply personally to everyone that takes the time to write to me! **