Paul's Story- PART 1:
---------------------

	Hi. My name is Paul. I am fifteen years old, a college 
student (full-time), and I wear diapers. Now that all the 
vital stats are out of the way, let me give you the details.
	Yes, I wear diapers. No big deal. I have wanted to wear 
diapers ever since I was six years old. I can't tell you 
why, but I have. I think part of it stems from the fact that 
I have encopresis, which is a condition that causes partial 
or complete loss of bowel control. My parents are 
understanding now, but they weren't when I was younger. They 
called me lazy and made me sit on the toilet for an hour 
each night until I was about eight. Accidents were cause for 
tantrums on my parents' part, and I tried not to have them. 
However, that's just the beginning of my story...
	January 9, 1998
	The last day of final exams. The exams themselves 
weren't too bad, but they put me under a lot of stress, 
which aggravated my encopresis. That day, I had two exams, 
both in math classes. My parents didn't know it yet, but I 
had nearly failed one of the classes already, and finals 
were my last chance to bring my grade up in that class. 
Since I knew that I would have problems that day, I grabbed 
a plastic bag and a few extra pairs of underwear.
	As I expected, during my first exam (in the course I 
was failing), I had an accident. I was on the last problem 
of the test, and I had made sure to sit in a secluded area 
of the room. I quickly put my jacket on to make sure that no 
stains would be visible, and I walked up to the professor's 
desk to hand in my test.
	"Here you go."
	"Thanks. You made sure to check your work, right?"
	"Yup."
	"Good. Looks like you did a good job on it -- I guess 
you can't afford any less, huh?" she joked.
	"You're telling me. Thanks for the help. I needed it, 
and I think that's why this stuff finally clicked," I said.
	"Hey, no problem. You taking statistics next semester?" 
she asked.
	"No, but probably the semester after that," I said. I 
liked her classes, and I wouldn't mind her as an instructor 
again.
	"Sounds good."
	We waved good-bye, and I went straight for the 
restroom. As soon as I was inside a stall, I took my pants 
off and pulled down my underwear. It was not a pretty sight. 
I quickly wiped myself off with the toilet paper. Then, I 
stepped out of the pants and underwear.
	I quickly changed into a fresh pair of underpants that 
I had stashed in my backpack, and put the soiled ones into a 
plastic freezer bag that I had sneaked into my backpack that 
morning. I closed it up, then put it into a grocery bag that 
I had also nabbed that morning. I stashed the whole affair 
in my backpack, then walked out of the restroom as if 
nothing unusual had happened. Success! My parents wouldn't 
know about my accidents now! What they didn't know about 
wouldn't hurt me, I figured.
	Now that I had Algebra out of the way, I had study to 
take my PreCalc exam (I know. If I was taking PreCalc, why 
take Algebra? Hey, I skipped three years of high school, so 
I didn't want to take any chances!). The exam wasn't for 
another two hours, so I studied for about an hour, then 
figured I knew all I could. I got up, walked around, ate a 
few free donuts (My school knows how to take care of its 
students!!), then went down to take the final.
	On the way downstairs, one of my friends stopped me.
	"Hey, Paul, I gotta give you something."
	"Sure. What?"
	"It's a program for your calculator. It'll help you to 
relax during the final."
	"Okay. I need all the help I can get!"
	With that, my friend and I hooked up calculators and I 
sucked his program onto my calculator. Needless to say, I 
have a graphing calculator (TI-92, nearly a laptop!!). After 
we were done, I ran downstairs.
	After everybody arrived, the instructor handed out the 
exams. As he handed me my exam, I noted the top of the 
sheet- "THE FINAL JUDGEMENT!". Talk about sick and sadistic 
humor!
	Well, I had been hearing that this instructor was known 
for tough finals, so this caused me to have an accident just 
after he turned back around.
	"Just great," I thought. "Now I have to take the whole 
thing this way."
	I resigned myself to my fate, and took the test. Since 
I kept my jacket on, it helped to contain the odor (I wear a 
VERY heavy jacket.). Surprisingly, the professor gave a 
pretty easy exam! He just liked to scare the hell out of his 
students!
	I went up and handed in my last final for the semester. 
Then, I made a mad dash for the restroom. I changed myself 
again, and I put on two pair of underwear this time. Not 
like my usual four or five, but a little comforting.
	Then I remembered the program that my friend gave me. 
He had given me things before, like screensavers. I pulled 
up the program name and ran it. When I looked at the screen, 
I couldn't believe it! He had given me a pornographic 
picture of a naked woman on a bed! Gross!
_____________________
Paul's Story- PART 2:
---------------------

	Later that day, my mom picked me up. As I climbed into 
the car, she asked me how well I had done.
	"Pretty well," I said, and hoped that she wouldn't ask 
any more questions. I hadn't told her about how I had nearly 
bombed in algebra, and I thought she might catch on if I 
said anything more.
	"Were you nervous? You said you were during your bio 
test on Wednesday, so I just want to make sure."
	"I'm fine, mom."
	"Okay. So, anyway, where do you want to go to eat?"
	"What do you mean?"
	"Well, you just finished up your last final exam of 
your first semester in college. That's worth a little 
celebration, if you ask me. But then again, I'm just a mom. 
What do I know?"
	I have to hand it to my mom - she knows how to guilt 
trip. She doesn't even have to use the nine months of agony 
or the hours of labor. She just insults herself in a very 
nonchalant way that makes your heart break.
	"Did it occur to you that I might want to spend a 
little time with my son? I mean, couldn't you give that to 
your own mother after she drives you all the way to college 
every day? And..."
	"Okay, mom. Ruby Tuesday's. We can go there. You like 
it, I like it, and it's the only decent restaurant around. 
Sound good?"
	"Sure. Do you really want to go?"
	Yeah, right. Like I was going to say "no" and endure 
another guilt trip.
	"Sure. I'm starved," I said, lying. I'm a decent liar, 
I guess. My mom almost always fell for it.
	The restaurant was only about a mile away, so we got 
there quickly. We pulled in, got out, and walked inside. I 
had a Caesar salad (my favorite!), and my mom had spicy 
chicken. I was surprised to see her eat something spicy, 
since she usually hates hot food. After we finished eating, 
we paid and left.
	We walked out to the car, and got in. It was HOT. It 
may have been the middle of January, but we were still 
getting sixty degree weather! Mom had left the car in a 
sunny spot, so we wound up getting into a scorching-hot car. 
As we both got in, we noticed a funny odor.
	"What's that smell?!" my mom said, disgusted.
	Oh, great!! The heat had gotten to my underwear in my 
backpack and made it smell!!
	"I don't know." This time, though, mom didn't but it.
	"Did you have an accident today?" she said, as if she 
had asked me this question a hundred times before (which she 
had).
	"Two," I said. I knew that lying would only make worse 
whatever punishment I was in for.
	"Where is the underwear? Do you still have it on?"
	"No, it's in my backpack."
	"Well, get it out," she said. She was being calm about 
it! This was something I was totally unprepared for. She 
*always* made a huge ordeal out of stuff like this!
	I obediently opened my backpack and pulled out the 
grocery bag. I opened it up, and pulled out the freezer bag. 
With each container being opened, the smell intensified. 
Finally, I handed her the freezer bag.
	"Why did you have accidents?"
	"I don't know, mom! I just can't help it! Honestly! All 
I know is that during times like final exams, it gets 
worse!" I said. I was on the verge of tears for the first 
time in four or five years.
	"It's okay, sweetie. I talked to your grandmother about 
it the other day. You had some skidmarks in your underwear, 
and I called her up to ask her about it."
	My grandmother is a psychologist, and she knows about 
all sorts of problems, whether they are psychological or 
physical. She was always helping my mom through tough times, 
and she was one of the best people to talk to in a tight 
spot. If she knew about problems like this, maybe she knew 
of a way to treat it!
	"She says that problems like this can be stress 
related. Sometimes, if you can learn how to deal with your 
stress, you can overcome the problem," my mom said, trying 
to comfort me. "Here, go throw these in the Dumpster out 
back," she told me, handing the freezer bag over.
	I went out to the back of the restaurant, and threw the 
soiled underwear into the Dumpster. Walking back to the car, 
I thought of the way my mother was handling the situation- 
not at all like usual.
	I asked her about it when we were on the road to go 
home.
	"Well, it's not exactly something that you have that 
much control over. I talked with your grandmother about it, 
and she says that you are mostly experiencing this because 
of stress."
	Now my mother was taking the TV mother approach. This 
is her prime style, as she is an excellent actress. She knew 
that to be the best method of approaching the next few 
issues.
	"Would you like to talk to a counselor?"
	"No, I think that I'm okay. You know I'd say so if I 
needed one," I said. And it was true. We both knew that I 
told her when I needed that stuff.
	"Okay. Well, do you enjoy having your underwear 
ruined?" The question was not sarcastic, but not totally 
sincere. It was a question leading into something, but I 
didn't know quite what.
	"No," I replied cautiously.
	"Well, what do you want to do?"
	"I don't know. I don't want to have this stupid 
problem. I just can't help it! I've tried everything! I even 
wear four or five pair of underwear to bed at night, so I 
won't get the sheets dirty!" I said.
	"Then I can only think of one thing to do," she said.
	"What?"
	"Diapers. If you wear diapers to bed, you won't have to 
put on five pairs of underwear. You could also wear them 
when you know you'll be under a lot of stress, like today."
	Diapers. Now there was a concept I didn't mind. I was 
surprised that my mother had brought it up, and I was scared 
that there would be some sort of catch.
	"I don't know," I said. Yeah, right. I knew! DIAPERS! I 
would love wearing them!
	"Paul, you have to. Don't worry, we'll keep it within 
the family. You'll only wear them when you need them."
	"Fine," I said, feigning defeat.
	"Good. Look in the back seat, under the papers and 
stuff."
	We had a car that was always filled with junk, so I 
shoved a ton of insurance papers aside and found a big 
package of disposable diapers. "ATTENDS" the package read.
	"What the--"
	"When we get home, you can try one on."
	"But you were going to put me in diapers anyway!"
	"Yes, I was. Paul, I found ten pair of underwear in 
your room today. All soiled. Even your grandmother thinks 
that maybe you should wear them for a while."
	"How long is that?"
	"I don't know. Until you stop messing in your underwear 
and start acting your age. Hell, acting like a college 
student."
	Great. My mom *was* angry, but she wanted to make it 
seem like she was doing me a favor. Both my parents still 
wanted to punish me. Maybe she was a great guilt-trip 
artist, maybe she was an excellent actress, but above all 
else, my mother was one hell of a child psychologist.
____________________
Paul's Story- PART 3
--------------------

	The rest of the ride home was made in complete silence. 
As we pulled into the driveway of our house, I looked at my 
mom.
	"I'm sorry," I whispered.
	"There's nothing to be sorry about. You have a problem, 
that's all. You say you can't control it, and I don't know 
whether to believe you or not. I'm just dealing with it the 
best way I can," my mother said.
	We walked inside. My mother handed me my diapers and 
told me to go up to my room and put one on. I followed her 
order. I went into my room, pulled off my pants and 
underwear (both pair), and sat down on my bed. I laid the 
diaper behind me, then scooted onto it. I pulled it up to my 
waist, made sure it was good and tight, then fastened it. 
Then I put my pants back on (I had to leave the zipper 
opened) and walked back downstairs.
	"Paul, I want you to know that your father and I are 
not angry at you. We are disappointed that you haven't 
overcome your problem yet, but we aren't angry."
	"Thanks."
	"So, how do they fit?"
	"Uh, I...Um, pretty well, I guess."
	"Good. You can wear that for the rest of the evening."
	"WHAT? I thought you said I would only wear them when I 
needed them!"
	"Which is all the time right now, judging by your 
underwear. And don't take that tone with me, or else you'll 
be one sorry young man when your father gets home."
	I reluctantly trudged back up the stairs. Before I 
reached the top of the stairs, however, my mother called 
out, "And how do those pants fit?"
	"They don't."
	"Then you'll wear sweats tomorrow. I'll try to find 
some decent looking pants while you're at school. Now go do 
your homework."
	"What homework? Today was the last day of the 
semester."
	"Then clean your room. It's a pigsty!"
	I finished walking up the stairs, and started to work.
	After about half an hour, my sister, Jen, came home. 
Usually, she is pretty nice, but I didn't know how she would 
react to diapers. She had suggested it to my parents many 
times (much to my anger), and they had told her to mind her 
own business each time (much to my pleasure). Recently, she 
had also taken to being a bit nasty since kids at school 
were calling her stupid because I was in college before her 
(She's a senior in high school, and I still feel like I made 
life a living hell for her on that last year.). As she came 
in, I ran to my closet, put on an oversized T-shirt, and 
came back out.
	"Hey Paul. How were finals?" she asked, poking her head 
in the door.
	"Pretty good. How are things with Jason?" I replied. 
Jason was her boyfriend, and I considered him to be a 
friend.
	"Not bad. He gave me flowers today. He said it was an 
early birthday gift." Oh, puke! He always got lovey-dovey 
with her. Oh well.
	"That was pretty decent of him."
	"I know. Hey, nice shirt!" she commented.
	I looked down and noticed that the shirt I was wearing 
had a huge smiley face on front. "Bravo on picking out the 
most obnoxious shirt I could," I thought.
	"Oh, just threw it on."
	"Looks good. Wear it to school," she told me.
	I told her that maybe I would, and I started back to 
work. I reached over to pick up a big piece of paper, when 
suddenly I heard a loud crinkle behind me.
	"What was that?" asked my sister.
	"What was what?" I asked, feigning ignorance.
	"That noise."
	"Oh, it must have been the paper," I said.
	"No, you didn't even touch the paper."
	"I didn't hear anything."
	"Wait a sec. Come here," she ordered.
	Left with no choice but to go to her or suffer dire 
consequences (she knows how to make me pay), I walked over 
to her. As I did, my diaper crinkled very loudly.
	"There it was again!" With that, she lifted up my 
shirt. Underneath, the top inch or so of my diaper was 
peeking out.
	"Mom finally took my advice, huh?" she asked.
	I didn't say anything. Finally, she looked at me and 
said, "You may be in college, but I know you wear diapers! 
Don't get an attitude with me any more! I'll tell everybody 
that you wear diapers." She then sauntered out of my room.
	"Wonderful. Now she has something to hang over my 
head," I muttered. I liked wearing diapers, but I couldn't 
let anybody know I was wearing them. Jen was going to hang 
that over my head for years to come.
	I had a feeling that diapers, for all their worth, were 
going to have a BIG price.
_____________________
Paul's Story- PART 4:
---------------------

	Well, dad got home that night, and he knew what I was 
going to be wearing. Of all the members of my family, he was 
the hardest to try to figure out a potential reaction. My 
mom's came immediately, and was a bit unexpected, and I knew 
how my sister was going to take the news. My father, 
however, is a complex man, and I hadn't a clue as to how he 
would react.
	The car came in the garage door, and I heard him get 
out of his car. As usual, the dog attacked him with slobber 
and sniffing as he came in the door. My dad walked straight 
into the family room, sat down at the sofa, and opened his 
briefcase. He pulled out a disk, and handed it to me.
	"Here you go. Go hook the modem up, then run this. It's 
a newer version of the web browser. On top of that, I have a 
few bookmarks for you."
	Huh? Web browser? Why did he think I wanted a new 
browser? I never used the one that my parents did... I had 
written my own a couple of years back, and I didn't want a 
new one.
	"Well, get going," he said.
	I quickly walked upstairs to the computer room and 
booted up. I went to DOS (we use [gag][choke] Windows '95) 
and went to the A: prompt. I found the file and executed it. 
It immediately unzipped itself and found its spot on the 
hard drive, erasing the previous version.
	I hooked the modem into the wall, exited from DOS, and 
pulled up the new browser. 3.0, 4.0, I don't remember. I 
then went into the bookmarks menu and found a ton of sites 
marked. I clicked the first one, "Tri-state Incontinence 
Support Group." Man! I expected some links to computer 
stuff- not diaper pages! But, hey, this was good enough for 
me. I looked at the site, then brought up another bookmarked 
site - "Bittergrey's Den." This one didn't look like a 
diaper site, but I checked it out. It was, in fact, a site 
about infantilism -- I had never heard of that. I looked at 
it, and I didn't like what I saw. Who would want to dress up 
like a baby?
	The next few sites were all the same. It didn't 
interest me. I wore diapers. Why did everybody assume I was 
into acting like a baby?
	Then, I pulled up another site -- "Deeker's Diaper 
Page." This one didn't seem to have much to do with 
infantilism, but it talked a lot about diapers in general. I 
clicked on the "picture gallery" link, and it brought up 
pictures of the guy who ran the site (Deeker) as a kid and 
as an adult. He seemed pretty open about it! I went back to 
his main page, then clicked on the "Deeker's Diaper Stories" 
link. Whoa! Stories about kids in diapers! I wondered if any 
of them were about kids my age. I downloaded as many as I 
could, planning to read them later.
	"PAUL!" my parents called from downstairs. It wasn't a 
"Paul, yell back" type of yell. It was a "Paul, come down 
here" yell. I walked downstairs quickly.
	My mother and father sat in the family room, in their 
family conference positions. Meeting time, and I knew what 
it was about. I sat down across from my parents, and my 
father began.
	"Paul, you have had this problem since you were a kid. 
We have both tried to stop it, but we have finally had to 
realize what is not possible is not possible. Overcoming 
your problem may be possible, but we can't do it. You seem 
to know when you will be affected, but you still haven't 
been able to stop it. So, whenever you know you will have 
the problem, you will wear diapers. That's why you're 
wearing them right now. Do you understand?"
	"Yes, sir." I didn't usually call my parents 'sir' or 
'ma'am', but I felt that it was probably best in this 
instance.
	"Did you check the sites I found?" my dad asked, 
shifting into a more relaxed mood now that the nasty 
business was out of the way.
	"Yeah. Where did you find them?" I asked.
	"Well, I looked for 'diapers' with a search engine, and 
I found a parental support group. I looked at some of the 
addresses, and one of them was the guy in the cubicle next 
to me. I asked him about it, and he gave me a lot of sites. 
He has a son just like you. He's about sixteen, and he's in 
diapers. He skipped two grades, and he'll be graduating this 
June."
	This interested me. Who was this kid? My dad's cubicle 
had been shifted around since I was last there, and I didn't 
know any of his neighbors. Could I meet this kid?
	My dad must have seen the expression on my face, 
because he looked at me and said, "He's going into work with 
his dad tomorrow, so I'll take you in to see him."
	Great! I was going to meet another kid who wore 
diapers! Suddenly, I had all sorts of questions.
	"Does he wear diapers all the time?" I asked.
	"Sort of. He has the same problem as you. That's why we 
didn't get upset. Your mom wanted to ground you for three 
months, but the guy next to me said that it wouldn't help. 
He told me about putting his kid in diapers. He said it 
works, so I called your mom back and told her about it. He 
wears diapers when he needs it, same as you will."
	That explanation satisfied me, and my parents 
continued. My mother explained to me that since I was in 
diapers, there were to be no more soiled underwear. If any 
did appear, I would be severely punished (Usually about a 
month's grounding in my family.)
	I would wear the new pants that my mom would buy me 
tomorrow to school only. Other than that, I was left with 
whatever fit me to wear at home.
____________________
Paul's Story- PART 5
--------------------

	January 10, 1998

	The next morning, I woke up in a diaper for the first 
time. Actually, I was dragged out of bed in a diaper for the 
first time. My dad takes it upon himself to be up at four 
o'clock every morning, and I was going to work with him that 
day.
	"Come on. I have three different projects to finish up 
today. UP!"
	"Five minutes..." I groggily begged.
	My father then reminded me: I was going to work with 
him.
	"I'm up. Five minutes and I can be showered and out the 
door," I said quickly, waking up in half an instant.
	Don't ask me why, but I always enjoy going to work with 
my dad. I can usually have fun with the equipment while I'm 
at his office, in spite of the overall boredom that the 
place imposes on people.
	Today, also, I got to meet the other kid who wears 
diapers. I wondered about him. I had begun to think that he 
might be physically disabled, but from what my dad had said 
last night, he wasn't. He was like me, my dad had told me. I 
still had doubts.
	I went to the bathroom and showered. As I stepped past 
the toilet, I thought about how much less I would be using 
it in the months to come. I showered, dried off, and went 
back into my room to get dressed. I grabbed a pair of my 
regular under- wear and put it on with the rest off my 
clothes. Then I went down to eat breakfast.
	My dad sized me up as I walked to the kitchen. "You 
wearing your diaper?"
	"No," I said as I grabbed some milk.
	"Why not?" asked my dad, with a warning tone. It wasn't 
a question, but a last invitation to get my ass upstairs and 
into a diaper or have it grounded for a week.
	"Finals were over yesterday. I'm not under any stress 
now," I said.
	My dad's face softened. "You don't want this kid to see 
you in a diaper, do you?"
	I turned to him. "No."
	"Are you nervous about meeting him?" my dad asked.
	"A little."
	My dad moved in for the kill. "Are you worried about 
this?"
	"Yeah, I am," I answered.
	"If you're under that kind of stress, then you need to 
wear a diaper."
	What was it with my parents and psychology?
	My mother, and my father both could read me (or trick 
me) like a book!
	Another technicality, another day in a diaper - in a 
public place!
	With no choice, I went upstairs and grabbed a diaper 
out of the package. I put the diaper on the bed and pulled 
my pants down. I laid down on the diaper, then pulled it 
securely into place and fastened it. Afterwards, I pulled my 
pants up again, but, again, no fit. I grabbed my only other 
pair of sweatpants and put them on. I noticed a peculiar 
feeling in my diaper area, kind of like a sunburn, as I 
walked downstairs. Less than twenty four hours after putting 
on my first diaper, I had gotten diaper rash.
	"You ready?" asked my dad.
	"Yeah. Let's go," I replied.
	On the ride to the office, my dad explained that he 
would be in the lab for most of the day, so I was free to 
play around with his computer. Sounded good to me.
	As we arrived, I noticed that my dad's car was the only 
one there, except for one other. I asked my dad about it.
	"Today's Saturday, remember?" he told me.
	We walked into the office, and went straight to dad's 
cubicle. As we walked into the grey box, the guy in the next 
cubicle walked out.
	"Hey, Frank!
	Who's this?" he asked, motioning toward me.
	"That would be Paul. You said you were going to bring 
your son in today, so I figured we could introduce them," 
said dad.
	"Sounds good," the man said, then he yelled over his 
shoulder "Justin!"
	A moment later, Justin appeared. He was wearing a T-
shirt that said "Trendy People Suck", plain brand-x shoes 
(that looked pretty damn comfortable!), socks, and a diaper. 
No pants. He walked up to his dad.
	"Yeah?" he asked.
	"Justin, this is Paul. He's the kid I told you about."
	"Hey, Paul."
	"Hi," I said shyly. I wasn't sure about this kid. I 
mean, at least he could wear some pants!
	As if reading my thoughts, he looked at me and said, 
"Sorry about the no pants thing. My pants got ripped in 
biology just yesterday. I didn't know anybody else would be 
here. It makes it easier to change myself, though."
	"How'd they get ripped?" I asked.
	"People know I wear diapers," he said. "I think you can 
figure the rest out."
	I could, but I don't think I wanted to. I figured I was 
lucky since I was in an environment where nobody would try 
anything like that or else cops would be involved.
	"Well, we gotta get going to the lab to finish up that 
new board. You guys have fun," said Justin's dad.
	"Paul, take off your pants," my father ordered.
	"What?" I asked.
	"Paul, I'm going to start some of the machines in the 
lab up, and when that happens, it can get to be eighty 
degrees in here. You won't be comfortable in those 
sweatpants, so you may as well get used to being in your 
diaper right now."
	Justin's dad stepped in. "You know, he's right. But you 
could probably leave them on for a while longer- those 
machines take a while to heat up. And if you're not 
comfortable in just that around new people, that's okay, 
too."
	My dad agreed, and they both left. As they did, Justin 
turned to me. "Don't worry about it. When you feel 
comfortable, take them off. Until then, it's not a problem."
	After that, he said nothing about taking my pants off. 
We did, however, talk about diapers. As it turned out, 
Justin had been wearing diapers for about three years now, 
and he was pretty comfortable with them. He said that he 
started out the same way I did, wearing them when I needed 
to. He had a lot of social stress at school, though, so he 
wore them almost nonstop for his first year. After that, he 
had lost what control he used to have of not only his 
bowels, but his bladder.
	"I only wear diapers when I need them, but since I'm 
basically incontinent now, I need them all the time," he 
said.
	We started to talk. As it turned out, he felt the same 
way I did about diapers. He liked wearing them because they 
made him feel secure-- he didn't have much control over his 
bowels when he started out. Those accidents *were* 
accidents, and he couldn't help it. When he started wearing 
diapers, though, he messed more and more frequently. He 
loved not having to control himself.
	The only downside either one of us could see was 
school. He had a rough time, considering that he was in high 
school, where violence was tolerated in spite of school 
policy. Being two years (and in many cases, three and four!) 
younger than most of the high school seniors in his class 
didn't help all that much, either.
	"It's a pain in the ass now that all the kids at the 
high school know, but I can't help it a lot of the time. It 
does give me a lot of free time, though. Nobody wants to be 
associated with me, so I get to work on the stuff I like. 
Right now, I'm working on some computer stuff. I do some 
hacking, leave the handle 'Mercutio'. I could change my 
grades, if I needed to," he said.
	After about half an hour, it got pretty hot in the 
building, so I wound up taking my sweatpants off. I stood 
there in a T-shirt and a gleaming, white diaper. Justin told 
me I didn't look that bad. Then he excused himself.
	"Where are you going?" I asked him.
	"Change. You smell like you need one, too," he said.
	I didn't even realize it, but I did. I had messed in my 
diaper earlier, but I didn't know when. I looked at him and 
told him that I did.
	"Yeah, I guess I do," I said.
	"Come on, then. I'll show you how to change yourself in 
no time flat."
	With that, we left the cubicles to go to the restrooms.

_____________________
Paul's Story- PART 6:
---------------------

	Justin and I were both familiar with the office where 
our fathers worked, so it wasn't a problem finding the 
restrooms. Justin walked in, flipped the lights on, and 
turned to me.
	"You have diapers with you?" he asked.
	I couldn't believe it! I had forgotten to bring extra 
diapers in case I needed them! What was I thinking? Now what 
would I wear?
	"Uh, no," I said humbly.
	"No problem. You look like you're about my size, so my 
diapers should fit you. I brought about ten, even though I 
figured I wouldn't use'em."
	"Why did you bring so many, then?" I asked, curious.
	"In case I get diarrhea. If I do, then I have to put 
two on, just in case. Otherwise, it all goes all over my 
pants," he told me.
	Satisfied with the explanation, we got ready to change 
ourselves. We each went into separate stalls, simply for 
privacy. I sat down on the floor, and pulled off my diaper.
	Justin talked to me from the next stall. "Pull it off, 
then wad it up and throw it away."
	I did so. He then explained how tightly to pull the 
diaper up on myself. "By the way," he added, "do you have 
any baby oil?"
	"Err...no," I said, again embarrassed.
	"Here," he said, and rolled a bottle under the 
partition. "I forgot. Before you tape yourself up, put some 
of this on."
	"Why?"
	"To keep you from getting diaper rash. Trust me."
	Little did he know that it was just a little too late.
	"Okay."
	Afterwards, he explained that I should pull the tapes 
as tightly as possible at first, to prevent the diaper from 
falling off. "After you get used to it, you'll know how 
tight to tape it."
	After finally taping it up, I stood up in my diaper. We 
both walked out of the bathroom and headed back to the lab, 
to check in with our dads.
	We both walked in wearing just our diapers and shirts. 
The two were in the back of the lab, running some sort of 
test on the chip they were making. We walked up to them.
	"Hey, guys. You ready for lunch?" asked my dad.
	"Sure," we replied.
	"Okay, we were just about to run out to get some fast 
food. What would you like?" asked Justin's dad.
	We all agreed on cheeseburgers (except Justin's dad- 
lactose intolerance). Just as the two of them left, my dad 
looked at me and told me I was going to be cold.
	"What do you mean?" I asked.
	"Well, if you walk out to the car in just your diaper, 
your legs are going to freeze," he explained simply.
	I realized what my dad was saying, and I quickly went 
and grabbed my pants. I pulled them on quickly. "I thought 
that you were going to just bring back the burgers," I said.
	"No, we figured we'd eat out," my dad said.
	Justin heard this and immediately turned to his father. 
"You're not serious, are you?" he asked.
	His father told simply told him to go out to the car.
	"Dad, I don't have any pants! I'll feel embarrassed, 
being the only kid my age in a diaper!" he said.
	"Well, I'll fix that for you, Justin," chimed in my 
dad. "Paul, looks like you have to take your pants off 
again."
	With no choice, I took off my pants and went out to the 
car wearing only my diaper and a shirt.

_____________________
Paul's Story- PART 7:
---------------------

	We got into the car and started toward McDonald's, the 
agreed-upon destination. As I sat next to Justin in the back 
seat, I turned to him.
	"Only kid. Real nice," I said, laying the sarcasm on 
pretty thick.
	"Well, what did you want me to do? I can't wear any 
pants. My dad had to raise hell to get me here in the first 
place!"
	"Yeah, but you've been in diapers for more than two 
years now! You're probably used to it! I'm not!"
	"Oh, sure," he countered, "I go out in public all the 
time wearing nothing but my diapers. You told me this is 
your second day, but I didn't think you were *that* stupid 
about wearing diapers!"
	I realized he was right. He probably was going out in 
just a diaper for the first time, same as me. But I was 
still getting used to wearing diapers, period. Going to 
McDonald's on a busy Saturday was not my idea of a way to 
get started. And what if I saw somebody I knew?
	Justin apparently read the expression on my face at the 
last thought, and he shared his feelings.
	"Don't worry about it. Given the odds, you won't see 
anybody you know. A one in a million shot that you see a 
friend there," he said. "As for me, I don't have that many 
friends, so I don't have to worry about it."
	We pulled up to the restaurant, and Justin and I gave 
each other nervous looks. We both knew that what was about 
to happen probably wouldn't be pretty.
	We walked in the doors after a freezing trip inside. I 
walked in after Justin, and we both looked around. The place 
was jammed. Justin muttered something about finding a place 
to sit, and I went up to the counter. The young man at the 
counter only saw my shirt and up because of the height of 
the counter, but he had seen me come in.
	"Hello. What would you like?" he asked.
	"Three cheeseburgers, please, with cokes to drink."
	"Coming right up," he said.
	He brought the food out moments later. In the meantime, 
I could feel people staring at me. After he brought the food 
out, I quickly walked to where Justin and our fathers were 
waiting. As I walked, I could feel my bladder, and I 
realized I had been holding it in for some time. I quickly 
released it all into the front of my diaper.
	We ate quickly, while dad just sat there, talking to 
Justin's dad about the latest problem with their chip. 
Justin and I realized that we were stuck. So we started 
talking. We discussed sports (we both agreed that we hated 
them), cars (he had his driver's license, I didn't), and 
girls (we were both hopeless). Finally, we got back to the 
lab.
	We spent the rest of the day talking, and we changed 
ourselves once more (we each had bowel movements) before we 
left. After that, dad and I drove home.
	When we got home, I went up to my room. On the bed were 
three pairs of pants, all with elastic waistbands that had 
snaps on them. I assumed that these were the pants I would 
be wearing from now on. They didn't look too bad.
	I suddenly felt the urge to pee. I walked into the 
bathroom and undid the tapes on my diaper. I went in the 
john like usual, then pulled the diaper back up on myself.
	I spent the rest of the evening reading, playing games, 
and goofing off. I had two days until the new semester 
began, and I wanted to get used to the diapers-- or suffer 
real humiliation.
	Just as I was about to get into bed, my sister barged 
into my room. She looked excited, and I figured telling her 
that I might have wanted privacy was no use now.
	"What do you want?" I asked.
	"You're not going to believe it, Paul! I got accepted 
into college!" she said.
	"Great! Where are you going to be? Across the country? 
Please tell me it's across the country!" I said, joking.
	"Nope. I got accepted to the Nanny Academy. It's only 
twenty miles from here, so I get to stay home." she said, 
then stuck her tongue out at me.
	"Well, keep applying. Maybe your first choice will get 
back to you," I said, still joking.
	"This *was* my first choice," she told me.
	"Well, looks like we're stuck with each other for the 
next year at least."
	"Yeah, but I need some practice," she said.
	I didn't know where she was going with the idea, so I 
asked her what she meant--college at 15, but not a lick of 
common sense.
	"Mom said I'll need practice with infants, so I get to 
diaper you tonight," she said with a malicious glee that 
only a younger brother can know.
	She then ordered me down on my bed. Seeing no choice 
but to obey, I got on my bed. Jen went about changing me, 
pulling off the diaper, throwing it away, when she noticed 
something.
	"Paul, you have blotches on your butt. I think you have 
diaper rash."
	With that, she fastened another diaper to me and told 
me to go downstairs and ask mom to get some rash cream the 
next day.
	I trudged down the stairs in only my diaper and a 
shirt, and I found mom. I told her that I needed some cream 
for my rash, and she said she'd get some.
	"When did you see it?" she asked.
	"I didn't," I said. "Jen did."
	"Jen was changing you?" she asked.
	"Yeah. She said you told her to."
	In that moment, we both realized what had happened, and 
we both yelled upstairs.
	"JENNIFER!!!"

_____________________
Paul's Story- PART 8:
---------------------

	Jen heard the both of us yelling, and she immediately 
came downstairs. She looked at my mother and me, both 
scowling, and knew right away that she was caught.
	"Why did you try to change Paul?" demanded my mother.
	Jen started laughing hysterically.
	"I figured it would be something to tease him about. 
Besides, I need practice!" she said between bouts of 
laughing.
	"Practice for what?" my mom shot back.
	"I got accepted to nanny school," she said, finally 
starting to calm down.
	My mother got all excited over that, and the two of 
them quickly started talking about her plans. After about 
two minutes, mom asked me if I had known I had diaper rash.
	"Well, I thought it would go away..." I said.
	"Paul, it won't go away unless you treat it," Jen told 
me.
	"If you knew, you should have told me," my mom said.
	"He doesn't know anything about it, mom," said Jen.
	"Well, maybe it *is* best for you to change his 
diapers, Jen. At least he won't get such a bad rash."
	So, Jen was now changing my diapers. I wasn't too hot 
on the idea. "You know, mom," I said, "We're gonna wind up 
on Jerry Springer at this rate. I don't want her to see me 
like that!"
	"Paul, you don't think I actually look at anything, do 
you? Oh, jeez, you're gross!"
	"Just tell her when you need to be changed at home. At 
least then you'll be able to ward off any type of skin 
problems."
	With that, the subject was dropped. Mom moved on, 
however, with the subject of diapers.
	"I ordered more for you today. I got you cotton ones-- 
I did the numbers, and you could cost up to a thousand 
dollars a year in those disposable diapers. The reusable 
diapers are cheaper in the long run."
	I listened to what she said, and I did the 
calculations. Diapers were eighty cents a piece at most, so 
she was assuming I'd wear diapers every day! I didn't think 
I was doing that badly.
	"But mom, if I don't wear them every day, I won't cost 
that much," I said. Not that I minded cloth diapers; I loved 
the idea. I just wasn't sure about *every* day.
	"Well, you tell me, Paul. Have you had any accidents?" 
mom asked.
	"Uh, one or two..." I said sheepishly.
	"Did you know you had them?" she said.
	"I guess not..."
	"Then you need to wear them until you can at least tell 
*when* you had an accident," she said. "Have you used the 
bathroom at all?"
	"Yes," I said.
	"Don't! When you are in underwear, you are in 
underwear, but in diapers, there is no toilet! Those are 
expensive diapers, and I don't want you to waste all that 
money!" she said.
	Yet another meeting with my mom, yet another step back 
in my toilet training. This was turning out to be some 
weekend.
	I went to bed that night, knowing I was in for a long 
semester.

January 11, 1998

	I woke up for the second time in a diaper, and I 
couldn't say I didn't enjoy the feeling. I had used it last 
night-- another bowel movement. I got up and went in to take 
my shower. Jen was not up yet, so I took the diaper into the 
bathroom, figuring that I could at least put this one on 
myself. Anyway, it's not like there was anything to do that 
I hadn't already done--yet.
	After a quick shower, I grabbed my diaper and pulled it 
snugly in place. I enjoyed the cool feel of the diaper as it 
wedged up against me, and I anticipated the feel of it later 
on, when I got a chance to use it--an inevitable thing, now.
	After making sure I was snugly diapered, I went into my 
room to get ready for church. I quickly put on my shirt and 
socks, but I didn't know what to do about pants. There was 
no way my church pants would fit over my diaper! Finding 
nothing else, I looked through the new pants that my mom 
bought for me. Sure enough, there was a nice pair of black 
slacks, stuck in the center of the pile. I examined them-- 
they didn't have snaps on the side, just like normal pants. 
However, they did have a crotch with snaps. I guessed that 
that wouldn't be a problem, since the snaps we painted black 
and very few people would probably notice. The huge bulge 
around my pelvis, on the other hand, would be pretty 
obvious.
	I quickly got everything ready, and we left for church. 
We would be going to Sunday school, but not staying for the 
service, mom said.
	We arrived, and mom and dad went down to their classes 
while Jen and I went to ours. Fortunately, Jen had been 
informed that if she told anybody about my diapers, she'd be 
in *very* big trouble.
	Jen went to her class, a traditional bible study class, 
and I went to mine. I was in a discussion class, which 
always allowed for some pretty good debate. As I walked in, 
people were already talking. I took my seat, and the kid 
next to me gave me a weird look as the diaper made a loud 
crinkling noise.
	We started in on our lively debate, and the hour was up 
in no time at all. Jen came to tell me we had to leave. 
Although we attended church on a regular basis, my mother 
wasn't feeling good. We decided to leave.
	As I got up to go, I realized that I had soiled myself 
in Sunday school. I quickly left, not wanting anybody to 
notice. I got out to the car, and we left.
	We got home and mom laid down in her room. I went 
upstairs and changed. As I did, I heard the doorbell ring.
	"Paul, get that!"
	I was only in a diaper, but I quickly put my robe on 
and mussed up my hair. I then walked downstairs and opened 
the door, pretending to be sleepy.
	"Hello?" I asked.
	In front of me stood a delivery person. He looked at me 
and asked, "You Paul?"
	"That's me," I said.
	"Delivery for you," he said. "Angel Fluff Diapers."
	I blushed as he said that, and he looked at my robe. A 
hint of white still peeked out.
	"Oh, son, don't worry. I got a thirty-year-old kid, and 
he still wears them. Never sat on a toilet in his life! Some 
people just have trouble in that aspect. I didn't mean to 
upset you. I just recognized the packaging!"
	I looked up at the man, and he winked. I began to feel 
a bit better. Even though it was a slip of his 
professionalism, I thought his intentions were good, and it 
helped me to feel better, knowing that even full-grown 
adults wore diapers.
	I thanked him and signed for the package. As he left, 
he turned around and said, "See ya 'round, sonny!"
	I took the package upstairs, dying to find out what 
types of diapers I was getting.

_____________________
Paul's Story- PART 9:
---------------------

	I tore open the package. As I pulled the cardboard 
flaps aside, I saw what must have been fifty diapers! They 
were cloth, as my mother had said, and they looked like the 
diapers I had seen on many babies before. Except, of course, 
for the fact that these were HUGE. They didn't have any 
snaps or fasteners on them-- I was going to have to use 
pins, which were conveniently located right at the bottom of 
the box.
	I pulled the diapers out, then went to my closet and 
opened my dresser. I had always had two or three empty 
drawers since I never cared for fashion and therefore didn't 
need a lot of clothes. I stuffed the drawers full of 
diapers.
	I pulled one out, examining it. I started to wish I 
could be changed into one. My new disposable, however, was 
still dry and clean. I would be stuck in it until I did 
something.
	I quickly put on a pair of my new jeans and a large T-
shirt. As I did, I thought about what my mother had said 
last night. If I did as she asked, then I wouldn't be able 
to get out of diapers!! If I couldn't go to the toilet, then 
I would always be having "accidents" in my diapers, so my 
parents would then keep me in them longer... a wonderful 
little plan for them, I suppose. I decided to walk 
downstairs and ask my dad about it.
	I found him working on an old radio he had found at a 
garage sale. Just by looking at it, I knew he'd have to put 
at least a month into bringing the monstrosity back to life.
	"Uh, dad?" I asked.
	"Yes?" he replied.
	"I have to use only my diapers until I stop having 
accidents, right?"
	"Yes," he said.
	"Then how do I stop having accidents?" I asked.
	My father looked at me, and then said, "Can you stop 
having accidents?"
	This question took me completely aback. I knew that I 
wanted to wear diapers, and I was happy to have them. I just 
didn't like the concept of needing them. As I thought about 
what he was asking, I realized that I couldn't stop myself 
from having accidents. I knew that medication was not much 
of an option (I forgot to mention that I went to see a 
doctor about my encopresis at age twelve, and he had said 
that medication wouldn't work in my case.). I pondered the 
idea, and I arrived at a conclusion.
	"No, I suppose not," I said.
	"Then it doesn't matter. You're in diapers, Paul. I 
guess that your mother and I could have been a bit more 
understanding when you were younger, and maybe let you be in 
diapers before," my dad said, with all seriousness.
	Well, at least I knew what was happening to me. No more 
toilet- ever. I guess that the more I pressed the issue, the 
more my parents would press it on me. Not that I minded-- I 
loved wearing diapers! I figured that I better not push any 
further or mom and dad might take my diapers away. It 
surprised me, however, to realize that every meeting with my 
parents took me deeper into diapers.
	I went up to my room and turned on my PC. I have an old 
machine, a 386. I popped in a floppy, onto which I had saved 
all the stories that I had downloaded on Friday. I brought 
them up on my screen, and I read them all. Some were huge- 
hundreds of kilobytes a piece. I decided not to read those 
quite yet. I did read some shorter ones, though. They were 
pretty cool.
	As I sat there, I had another accident. Correction: I 
went in my diaper. I knew I had to. Given that I wasn't 
allowed to use the toilet, and I knew, it didn't qualify as 
an "accident". I went to ask Jen to change me.
	"Sure, just let me finish talking to Jason," she told 
me.
	I waited about five minutes before she came into my 
room. She laid a large towel down on the floor, and ordered 
me to sit down on it. I complied.
	She went over to the bag of Attends and grabbed one. I 
noticed that she wanted to put me in a disposable, so I told 
her that the cloth diapers had come.
	"Cool. I need practice with cloth diapers, too," she 
said.
	She grabbed a cloth diaper out of the drawers and 
pulled out the box of pins. She put the diaper under me, and 
pinned it to me. After she was done, she told me to get up. 
I did. The cloth felt wonderful between my legs, soft and 
smooth. The cotton rubbed against me, and it felt 
delightful.
	Jen then told me to wait in my room while she went to 
hers. She came back moments later, holding a pair of large 
plastic pants. Within moments, I was wearing them. I pulled 
the jeans back on, and snapped the sides. I noticed that 
these pants didn't have velcro or snaps in the crotch, but 
they did have a small, almost indistinguishable zipper. I 
told Jen that maybe she could use that in the future.
	She told me that she would remember that in the future. 
As she left to go downstairs, she told me to follow her. I 
figured she wanted to try something else on me in terms of 
her training, so I followed her. I didn't mind the idea of 
her babying me, and I didn't have much of a choice, anyway.
	We both arrived downstairs. I sat down on the couch, 
and Jen took a seat across from me. I turned on the TV, and 
she read over the information on her nanny school. Suddenly, 
the doorbell rang.
	"Paul, come here," Jen said.
	"Why?"
	"Jason's here. I want to show him how you look!" she 
said.

______________________
Paul's Story- PART 10:
----------------------

	Jen opened the door, and Jason stepped in. As I said, I 
didn't mind Jason, and I considered him a friend. But he 
was, in all honesty, a redneck. I doubt he'd react kindly to 
my new situation. I waited for the embarrassing moment.
	"Hey, Paul," Jason said.
	"Hey," I answered.
	"Jason, you're going to love this," Jen said, looking 
at me with her malicious, older-sister smile. Here came the 
trouble...
	"What's that?" he asked.
	"Paul, show him your zipper!"
	I tried to protest, but I realized that in spite of my 
side of the story, I was about to be mortified. I slowly 
reached down, and grabbed the zipper that ran through my 
crotch area, my face burning red with humiliation.
	Jason became confused. "What's that zipper for?"
	Jen almost got the words out, but mine came more 
quickly. "I'm wearing diapers, now. I have to."
	He looked at me oddly, then shrugged it off. "Why are 
you so embarrassed? If you have to wear them, it shouldn't 
be a problem," he said.
	I was so thankful to have him say that!!!
	Jen started saying that I was a baby, and that she 
thought I was very immature. Jason looked at her.
	"Jennifer, I wore diapers until the seventh grade. I 
don't think I was immature," he said.
	Jen had her foot in her mouth, and the expression on 
her face looked like she had swallowed the leg. It was 
beautiful to see her apologize for once, even if it wasn't 
to me!
	Shortly after, the two left for the movie they were 
going to see. I watched the two leave, and then went back up 
to my room. I had left my computer on, and I read more 
stories. I started in on the longest one, figuring I could 
read the shorter ones in the future. It was about a kid who 
was very ill-behaved, and his mother, a nurse, turned him 
back into a baby boy, diapers and all. I really enjoyed it. 
By the time I was through with that story, my mom came up to 
my room.
	"Okay, Paul, you have to make a decision now. When you 
go to school on Tuesday, what type of diapers are you going 
to wear. I paid for the Attends, so you can wear them-- but 
I won't buy any more when we run out. After that, it's cloth 
diapers all the time. What's it gonna be?"
	I thought a moment.
	"I'd like to wear the cloth diapers to school. I can 
wear the disposables on special occasions, I guess," I told 
her. What types of special occasions would make me want to 
wear a disposable over a cloth diaper? I didn't care, as 
long as I was wearing a diaper of some sort!
______________________
Paul's Story- PART 11:
----------------------
 January 13, 1998
	Well, I woke up after a completely uneventful Monday 
and I realized that it was judgment day. I didn't feel any 
stress myself, but my diaper certainly said otherwise. Jen 
wasn't up, so I was left to change myself.
	Mom had run out to the store on Monday, and she bought 
all the diapering supplies that I would need for at least a 
month-- over two thousand "baby" wipes (I still didn't think 
the baby thing was all that interesting), a gigantic 
container of powder, and FIVE tubes of baby oil. It did 
help, though. My diaper felt comfortable (except, of course, 
for all the poop)-- I didn't have any itchiness or burning 
sensations in my more delicate areas.
	When I had finished showering, I put on my diaper and 
made sure to use only moderate amounts of powder and oil. I 
had gone to bed Monday night smelling like a nursery, and I 
wasn't going to go through that at school if it could be 
avoided at all.
	Mom drove me to school after breakfast and dropped me 
off. Classes were still a half an hour away (my parents like 
to be early), so I went to the computer labs and played on 
the Internet. After a half an hour, I went to my first class 
of the new semester-- Spanish 2. Fortunately, only the 
teacher was there, and she had a reputation for being 
understanding about unusual situations-- deaths in the 
family, stuff like that. Hopefully, that would extend to 
permanently unusual situations!
	Class got underway, and we all started learning the 
conjugations of some of the more irregular verbs and other 
stuff like that. Halfway through the lesson, the teacher 
looked up with a surprised look on her face.
	"Oh, class, I almost forgot! We have a special surprise 
in store!"
	This got the attention of the entire class.
	"The dean of admissions passed away last month, as you 
all know," she continued, a bit more solemn.
	The class nodded. We had gone to a remembrance service, 
and many people had even attended the funeral.
	"Well, he was a very frugal man in his lifetime, and 
his first love in life was Europe. So, in his will, he gave 
over a half a million dollars to the Spanish, Italian, 
German, and French classes-- to be spent on `touring the 
areas of good use of the language' as he put it. What he 
meant was that the money was to be spent on sending the 
students to Europe. Class, we have been given a free trip to 
Spain!"
	A cheer went up from all the students. After we had all 
calmed down, questions started to pop up. Many of the 
students were past the age of thirty, and had work 
obligations. The college offered assistance in dealing 
employers, if the students desired. It was a two-week tour 
of the entire country!
	"However, since the money is also to be preserved to 
allow future classes the same opportunity, we will not be 
offering individual accommodations. Each of you is going to 
bunk with three others. And don't worry, you're not in high 
school-- it can be boy-girl." She then gave a quick glance 
to me and another student that was in an "early-release" 
program. "Except you two."
	The class got a good laugh out of it. Veronica, the 
other student, and I both looked at each other with faces of 
mock love. This only brought on more laughter. Finally, we 
all calmed down.
	"Incidentally- Paul, Veronica, I'll need to talk to you 
both after class."
	We then finished up the lesson. My next class was an 
hour away (I LOVE the schedules the college has!) and I 
didn't mind waiting after class. Veronica and I talked until 
the instructor had finished packing up.
	"Veronica, Paul, I need to tell you a few things about 
the trip. Since neither of you is eighteen, you will not 
only have to get a signed permission slip, but you will each 
be required to take a friend with you in case of an 
emergency. Sort of an extension of the buddy system," she 
said.
	"My birthday is this week-- I'll be eighteen by the 
time of the trip," said Veronica.
	"Well, in that case, you can go. Don't worry about the 
friend or the permission slip," replied the instructor.
	Veronica left the room, leaving me to face the teacher 
alone.
	"So, how much will my friend's ticket be?" I asked.
	"That will be paid for by the college. I'm sorry that 
this sort of babying has to happen, but it's policy," she 
replied.
	"That's fine. As for accommodations, who will my friend 
and I be staying with?"
	"Well, your accommodations were a bit of a different 
situation from the start because of your age, but now we 
have another wrinkle, don't we?"
	I decided to play dumb. "What's that?"
	She indicated to the thickness surrounding my waist. 
"My husband is a urologist. I've learned to recognize this 
type of thing. You just started wearing diapers recently, I 
assume."
	I nodded.
	"Well, you and your friend were going to share a single 
room without anybody else, but we can give you each a 
separate room if you choose. It can be a bit of an 
embarrassment to change your diapers without any privacy. 
Why don't you think about it for a while, and choose a 
friend that can come along with you. Then you can decide 
what type of bunking arrangement you want."
	The instructor dismissed me, and I walked out the door 
to the room. As I did, she handed me a card with two numbers 
and a name on it. It was her name, I found out (My schedule 
had just listed "Staff" as my instructor), along with her 
home and work phone number.
	"Call me when you make the decision, okay?" said Mrs. 
Balti (finally, her name!!).
	I agreed, and went down to the main hall to study my 
irregular verbs. I went over all the things in my mind, and 
I tried to think of who I could invite along with me. I also 
tried to think of how my mom and dad would react-- would I 
have to wear diapers in Spain, or could I wear normal 
underwear?
______________________
Paul's Story- PART 12:
----------------------

	By the time the next class began, I had come to a 
decision about who I was going to take with me. It may have 
been a fledgling friendship, but Justin and I had hit it off 
perfectly. He wouldn't have any trouble making up his 
schoolwork, and it would get him away from his high school 
tormentors for a week. Add to that the diaper factor, and he 
looked even better. And I didn't figure a free trip to Spain 
is something many people would turn down.
	I walked into my Calculus I class with my mind in a 
totally different place than math. In fact, I was in such a 
totally different world that I didn't even realize when the 
professor walked in. It was the same professor I had for 
PreCalc! This was going to be interesting!
	As Mr. Woodrow, our professor, set up his desk, the 
class chatted. I had taken a seat next to Lee, the friend 
who had given me the picture for my calculator. We talked a 
bit, and he eventually convinced me that he had given me the 
wrong program.
	Just as he was about to send me the correct file, Mr. 
Woodrow started the lesson. We spent the next hour and a 
half studying the basics of limits and derivatives. After 
class was over, Mr. Woodrow asked me to stay after. I 
agreed, and the class started to leave.
	"Paul, I just want you to know-- in case you need any 
time to perform any necessary, er..." he stammered.
	"Changes, sir?" I finished, embarrassed to a degree.
	"That's a good term for it. If you need to change, then 
don't worry about it. You know you are free to leave at any 
time-- this isn't like high school-- and I'll get any notes 
that you may miss. I've dealt with similar students before, 
and it is absolutely no problem. I had noticed some trouble 
last semester, and I thought that you may deal with it this 
way. Just try to be careful of who you let know. The high 
school may think of this as a problem, and you might be 
forced to see a school counselor-- I've seen it done before. 
So just so you know, there isn't any trouble here."
	"Thank you. But how did you know about my wearing 
diapers?" I asked.
	"Paul, your snaps came undone during class. They're 
hanging down as we speak. I don't look at those areas of my 
students, but I caught the movement out of the corner of my 
eye. Just try to be more careful in the future."
	I looked down, and sure enough, my pants had come 
undone. I was mortified. How many people had seen me like 
this?
	I pushed the thoughts out of my mind and snapped myself 
up. I then made a beeline for the parking lot. After waiting 
a while, Mom showed up and I climbed in the car.
	"Do you need changing?" was the first thing my mother 
asked.
	"Yes," I replied sheepishly.
	"No problem. When did you go?" she asked.
	"I don't know," I responded. "But I really did a number 
on this diaper."
	"No problem. So, how were classes?" she asked.
	"Fine. I found out some interesting news today."
	"What's that?" asked Mom.
	"We're going to Spain. Free. In about eight weeks, 
we'll be going to Madrid as the final unit of our class."
	"Really? Do I have any permission slips that they need 
me to fill out?"
	"Yeah, and I have to take a friend with me for 
insurance reasons." I replied.
	"Wouldn't that make it more expensive?" Mom asked.
	"Not if they say we're using the buddy system for 
emergencies," I said.
	"Oh. I guess that makes sense in a weird, half-
conscious, mega-convoluted way. So, who are you supposed to 
take with you? Are they paying?"
	"Yes, they're paying, and I can take anyone that I 
choose, eighteen or not."
	"Who do you plan to take along?" Mom asked me again.
	"I don't know. What type of underwear will I have?"
	"The same that you're wearing now," came the reply.
	"But I can't go to Spain wearing diapers! Everybody in 
my class could find out!"
	"I'm sorry, but unless you can stop using your diapers, 
you'll be wearing them," said Mom.
	"But if I'm not allowed to use the toilet," I said.
	"That's a problem we can discuss when you come back 
from your trip."
	So, I was stuck on a dream trip to Madrid in diapers 
with a new friend who also happened to wear diapers. This 
was getting to be a very interesting day!
______________________
Paul's Story- PART 13:
----------------------

March 9, 1998

	The semester shouldn't have passed so quickly. I still 
needed time to get used to the diapers, but the trip was 
today. Justin was coming, and we were bunking together the 
entire trip. Jen had been letting me change myself for the 
past week so I would be used to it when I was in Spain.
	I arrived at the college and waited with the other 
students for the shuttle bus to come pick us up. I had two 
bags with me-- one contained most of my clothes, including 
my diapers, while the other had the remainder of my clothes 
(the teacher had made sure we packed for any possible 
weather conditions) and other things I would need, like 
voltage adapters, a Spanish-English dictionary, and two of 
my remaining Attends, just in case.
	Justin got there about a half an hour before the bus 
arrived. He walked around, talked to a lot of the people, 
had a good time. I noticed that he only brought one suitcase 
that was too big to be a carry-on. I was going to ask him 
why when the bus pulled up.
	On the way to the airport, Justin and I talked about 
our expectations for the trip. He was sort of worried, since 
he didn't speak anything except English, though he had 
brought along a language course on tape-- one of the Berlitz 
things. All in all, though, we were excited about the entire 
ordeal.
	We arrived at the airport, and we checked our bags in. 
I was worried that my carry-on bag would be too big, and I'd 
have to send it with my other bag. As it turned out, it just 
fit-- that was a relief.
	Just before we boarded the plane, Mrs. Balti pulled me 
aside to ask me if I had to change. My diaper was clean and 
dry, so there was no need. She also asked if I had told 
Justin that I wore diapers.
	"You need to know, you AREN'T going to be able to keep 
it a secret from him on this trip. He'll find out soon 
enough. Does he know?"
	I told her that he did know, but I decided not to 
mention the fact that he also wore diapers-- I didn't think 
it was my place to tell her.
	We boarded the plane and got ready for takeoff. Justin 
was dry, so we both figured we were ready for the flight. We 
took seats right next to each other-- we had to, for the 
buddy system.
	Takeoff was a bit rocky, and the man seated next to us 
started to get nervous. He looked like he was about to piss 
his pants-- too bad he didn't have a diaper on.
	After we reached our cruising altitude, the man 
introduced himself and apologized, in case he might have 
made us nervous during takeoff. He told us that this was his 
first time flying.
	Justin tried to calm him down.
	"Relax," he said. "These things are safer than cars, 
statistically."
	"But what if the engines lose power?" the man 
responded.
	"No problem. We'll be six miles high, and the wings 
still will work. We would have at least a couple hundred 
miles before we even needed to worry-- these planes have a 
great length-to-drop ratio."
	Justin spent a few more minutes convincing the man that 
he was safe. Eventually, he decided to go to sleep. When he 
finally started snoozing, I looked over at Justin.
	"How did you know all that stuff about length to 
whatever ratios?" I asked.
	"I don't," he whispered back. "But two pantspissers 
next to each other is enough-- I didn't want another!"
	About that time, a flight attendant came on the speaker 
and started announcing the in- flight movie. The other 
flight attendants then came down the aisles, collecting 
money for the headphone rentals. Justin and I reluctantly 
gave four dollars each for the privilege of owning the 
headphones for twelve hours.
	The movie was "Scream 2". About half way through the 
movie, I realized that I had wet myself slightly-- not 
enough to warrant a change yet, but I didn't know if the 
diaper would last for the entire flight. After all, I had 
been wearing cloth diapers for about two months now, but I 
was wearing a disposable (with plastic pants) for the 
flight. I didn't know how much this diaper could hold.
	Justin seemed unworried about his diapers-- he was 
wearing layered cloth diapers, so they could absorb more 
than what I had on. However, he did shift a few times during 
the movie, seeming like he itched in that area. I hoped that 
he wasn't developing diaper rash.
	After the movie was over, meals were served. We had a 
choice between beef god-only- knows-what or a cold-cut 
sandwich. Justin and I both opted for the latter, and it 
wasn't that bad a sandwich, much to our surprise.
	Eventually, I fell asleep under the spell of the 
engines' roaring and the reclined (ha!) seat.
	I slept all the way through the night and breakfast (I 
didn't miss much, according to Justin). I woke up just 
before we were due to touch down.
	I quickly gathered all my stuff into my carry-on. I 
realized that I had wet my diaper as well as messed it while 
I was sleeping. But the "fasten safety belt" sign was on, 
and I couldn't go change myself. I figured I could change as 
soon as we got on the ground. Justin whispered to me that he 
had the same problem, and he would need to change, too.
	"Do you have any diapers?" I asked.
	"No... did you bring any extra?"
	"I brought two disposable diapers in my carry-on. All 
the rest are in my suitcase."
	"If you could let me borrow one, I'd be really 
grateful."
	"No problem. But the diapers will have to last us until 
we get to the hotel."
	"Thanks."
	We landed, and the plane taxied into the terminal. We 
got off the plane and went straight to the restrooms. We 
quickly changed into the fresh diapers. I threw my old one 
in the trash, and Justin put his in a trash bag that he put 
into my bag. We then went back and joined the group to wait 
to pick up our luggage.
	The line at the baggage claim was surprisingly short. 
We waited about ten minutes until the conveyor belt started 
moving. As it moved the suitcases and bags along, my 
classmates moved forward to pick up their belongings. I 
noticed that some people didn't collect any bags, Justin and 
myself included.
	As we started to see some of the suitcases again and 
again, Justin and I became worried. We were wearing our only 
clean diapers, and we didn't have any type of backup plan.
	When all was said and done, about a quarter of the 
class was left without anything but the clothes on their 
back (literally). The airline, after some heated 
conversations in both Spanish and English, decided to give 
each person a full refund for the trip. Since the school was 
paying for it anyway, the money was to be used to buy new 
clothing and supplies until the luggage could be tracked 
down and delivered.
	Which left Justin and myself stranded in Spain wearing 
disposable diapers, giving us a few hours (at most) to get 
new ones.