Karl's Story Chapter 1 - In the beginning. I can remember being interested in diapers even as a little boy. I wished I could wear diapers instead of being a big boy and I wanted to feel the thick bulk of a diaper around my butt. But of course I had no chance to actually wear diapers as that point. As I grew somewhat older, I decided that if I couldn't wear diapers, then at least I could occasionally wet my pants or mess my pants when no one was around to catch me. I did this on many occasions and never got caught. But when I got to be 12 years old my desire to wet and mess and wear diapers become more and more intense. Both of my parents worked, so I always came home from school to an empty house. We lived in the country, and I had to walk about a half mile from the point where the school bus left me off. This was actually great. As I walked home I would often either wet or mess my pants. I loved to look at myself in wet pants, and I loved the feel of a big, warm load pushing up against my bottom. After I got home I would walk around for a while in my wet or messy pants and then eventually pull my pants down and masturbate. After I'd cum then I would suddenly feel ashamed of what I had done and I'd clean myself up and promise not to do it again. But the next day the same thing would happen. By the end of the school year I was wetting and/or messing my pants two to three times a week. I suppose the only reason I was able to get away with it, is that I was actually a very responsible boy. Since my mother worked, it had been decided that I was old enough to do my own laundry. So I was able to wash my soiled clothing as often as I needed to without my mother ever knowing what had happened. The year I was 13, we moved to Maryland for a year and lived in a town between Washington and Baltimore. My mother didn't work that year, so my wetting and messing went into a steep decline. Still, there were occasions, and one of them remains one of the most exciting moments of my life. One Saturday during that spring my parents had gone somewhere, and I was left home alone. I went into the garage to tinker with my bicycle, and while I was working on it I felt a great need to take a crap. Of course, since I was alone, I had no hesitation about doing it in my pants. It felt so good. It was a really big load and it was soft and warm against my ass. As I worked on my bike I enjoyed the feel of the mess being pushed about on my bottom. Suddenly, the three boys who lived two houses down the street appeared. Steve was a year older than me, Bill was a year younger and Bobby was their little 8 year old brother. They walked over to see what I was doing, and as they came closer I wondered what was going to happen. "Maybe," I thought, "no one will notice anything. There isn't really anything to see and the garage is kind of dark." "Hi Karl. Whatcha doin?" asked Steve. "Oh, just adjusting the breaks on my bike." "Can I help?" asked Bobby. All three came closer to see what I was doing. As he got up to me, Bill wrinkled up his nose and said, "boy it smells icky here." "Bobby," said Steve, "did you mess your pants again?" That was a surprise to me. Apparently little Bobby occasionally had "accidents" and his brother knew it. "If you have," Steve continued, "I'm going to pull your pants down right here and let everyone see what a little baby you are." "I didn't!" Bobby shouted. "I bet Bill did it." That made Bill mad and he grabbed Bobby by the arm and felt the seat of his pants. He looked surprised to find that Bobby's pants were fine. When he let go of Bobby's arm, Bobby rushed to feel the seat of Bill's pants. That, of course, also turned up no evidence of anything. Before I could do anything or say anything Bobby had run around behind me and was feeling the seat of my pants. "Karl did. Karl messed his pants, Karl messed his pants, Karl messed his pants," Bobby chanted. Steve looked stunned and then came over to me and felt the seat of my pants himself. Bill decided he had to check me out too and did the same. There was a moment of silence (it seemed like an hour to me at the time) and then Bobby spoke again. "Well, Steve, are you going to pull Karl's pants down like you were going to do to me?" "Yeah," replied Steve, "I think I will." Steve was quite a bit bigger and stronger than me and although I tried to resist I didn't have much chance. Before I knew it, I had been dragged out of the garage into the bright sun and my pants had been pulled down. Then each boy pulled the elastic of my shorts back and looked into them. They all laughed and teased me about the big mess in my shorts. Then they pulled my shorts down and made me bend over so they could get a really good look at my messy bottom. I was so humiliated that I started to cry but that just made the boys taunt me even more. There I was, 13 years old, messy pants down around my ankles and an 8 year old boy calling me a big baby who should be put in diapers. Eventually I was allowed to go into the house and clean myself up. I begged them not to tell anyone else, and eventually they agreed. But they made one proviso - any time we were alone, they had the right to check out my pants to see if I was being a good boy or a naughty baby. For the rest of that summer I would periodically have to pull my pants down so that those boys could check to make sure I was keeping my underwear clean. At the end of the summer my family was ready to end its year in Maryland and move back to California. On that last week end, I spent one more time alone with my three friends. I couldn't make up my mind what I wanted to do. One part of me said I should be good and not give the boys another chance to humiliate me. Another part of me realized what a kinky thrill I'd gotten from the first episode and wanted a repeat. I vacillated in my decision and as the hours passed my bowels and bladder both grew more urgent in their needs. But if I went inside and used the bathroom, I'd have no chance to do something "naughty." Still I couldn't make up my mind. Eventually, just as I was about to excuse my self and go inside, Bill cracked a very funny joke (at least I thought it was at the time). As I laughed I felt the pee start to flow and I knew that the decision had been made. The boys might as well see the big baby do everything. As my bladder released a stream of pee into my pants I pushed with my bowels and once again filled the seat of my pants with a big, warm load. All three boys looked at me with amazement. They had decided that nothing like this was going to happen and were now caught by surprise. I stood there with wet and messy pants and looked at them with anguish. What would they do now? It took them a little while to decide what they were going to do. Eventually they decided that just pulling my pants down wasn't humiliation and punishment enough. Karl obviously needed a good spanking. They took my belt off my pants and then let the youngest boy, Bobby wield the belt to give me a good hard spanking on my bare and messy bottom. I cried again with pain and embarrassment. When it was all over, I was once again allowed to go into the house to clean myself up, but when I had I was forced to once again pull my clean clothes down and offer myself up for a close inspection to see if I had cleaned myself up properly. The next day my family packed up the car and we started the long drive back to California. I never met Steve or Bill again, but years later I ran into Bobby while on a vacation in Florida. By that time he was in college and I was in grad school. At first I didn't recognize him, but he remembered me all too well. He reminded me about who he was and then asked me if I still had trouble keeping my pants clean and dry. I paused for a moment and then told him "yes, but I found the proper solution for me." Then I unbuttoned my pants to give him a peak at the plastic pants and diapers I was wearing underneath. He looked, gave me a strange smile and walked away. Karl the Diaper Boy