The Orphanage
-------------

This story is not suitable for certain people; it contains elements of
infantilism, fetishism, scat (a fetish involving enjoyment of one's
faeces) and a small amount of sadism and teenage homosexuality. It is
concerned with boys in the age group 12-16 and who live in an orphanage
which is run by a cruel head-mistress. 

You should know by now whether you might want to continue and read the
whole story, presuming you could be bothered to read the above paragraph.
If you are under 21, or the subjects this story involves are not to your
taste or interest, then you should read no further. 

Any similarity between people or organisations mentioned in the text and
those in real life is entirely coincidental. 

==============================================================================

Part 1 - A New School
---------------------

I had been a permanent resident at the first orphange for some seven and a
half years, since I was a little under four years old.  At that time I was
in my final term of schooling before I might progress to another, similar
establishment which would cater for my developing and later teenage,
educational needs.  

I had applied to go to a public school nearby; indeed, already I had taken
the entrance examinations and had received a provisional place there.  Of
course, I could not be a day-boy - study by day then home to Mum and Dad in
the evening; instead, I would be there all my hours.  I would sleep in a
bed in a dormitary, and this dormitary I would share with many other
boys.

Aston College was a well-to-do, traditional, English boy's college with a
well respected educational record.  The college often attracted wealthy
businessmen - some from around my own country, some from overseas - who
would send their sons to study there.  Surely, I thought, I will meet many
other boys such as me; some will be sent away from home and will only
see their parents during holidays; others will be orphans like myself with
no devoted adult to return to when school broke up. 

I enthusiastically reread the opening of the letter Aston College's principal 
had sent to my current head master, confirming the acceptance of my application.

	Dear Dr. Dawson					15th March 1990

		Re: the application of your student Peter Phillips.

	We are pleased to inform you that the application for your student
	has been successful.  Phillips passed the entrance exams with 
	distinction and the college looks forward to welcoming a young man
	who undoubtedly has a bright future ahead. 

	However, I should remind you that the admissions board feel the matter
	of the financing of Phillips's education at the college is unclear.
	As well you know, many local councils have cut severly the funding
	they give to students who wish to study outside the state education
	system.  I am hopeful, as are you, that in this case your council
	will be prepared to afford the necessary costs, given the unfortunate
	orphaned state of your student and also that, as you have informed
	me, the boy's parents set aside an account for him from which may
	be drawn the necessary monies to largely fund his education until
	he is of school-leaving age.

	Therefore, I should warn you that Phillips's entrance to the
	college is provisional, pending confirmation (by 1st June) from
	you that the fees due the college will be paid.  I have written to
	your council's education department who have told me that all concerned
	parties may await communication of the Director's decision.

	I look forward to the resolution of this issue and to receiving
	your graduate.

	Sincerely
	Prof. Alasdair Reardon, 
	M.A. (Cantab.), D.Phil.


And so we waited.  On the 15th April, the headmaster received a letter
from the Professor informing him the matter was still unresolved and
urging him to press the council about the matter.  But by 15th no decision
had been made nor any other communication recieved.  On 30th May, still
nothing.  And finally, on 1st June the council sent their letter.

	Dear Dr. Dawson

	The Director of Education has deemed that it is not the council's
	responsibility to fund the education of a student on a private
	basis.  Therefore, the cost of Mr. Phillips education must be
	borne entirely by his respective guardians according to their
	means.

	If you are unable to manage the funding yourself, then I should
	urge you to immediately contact Sister Mary Coyne who is head
	mistress at Glenpark Orphanage (formerly St. David's).  The
	council has recently joined a number of other regional authorities
	in taking responsibility for this establishment where, we assure
	you, your student will recieve the first rate, comprehensive
	education and appropriate welfare benefits a growing young person
	needs.
	
	Finally, please make an appointment to see me, when I will inform you
	of the private contribution that the must be made on the individual's
	behalf.  This is because the individual's private savings are in excess
	of the amount the government allows before that person must fund his/her
	own education.

	Yours faithfully
	pp. The Director of Education Services.
	

And so, I was to go to a new school but not the one I wanted.

"Look at it from this perspective, Peter: you'll easily be the brightest
boy there!" said Dr. Dawson while I sobbed my disappointment.



Part 2 - The Nun
----------------

My old headmaster drove me and my few packed up belongings to Glenpark
Orphanage, in the middle of nowhere, and accompanied me to the head
mistress's office.  I had not been afforded an invitation to any open day
let alone a private trip round my new home's grounds prior to my first
day's arrival.  And so it was that, three days after my twelfth birthday,
disappointed and doubly apprehensive, the only new boy to start that year, I 
knocked on the door of Sister Coyne's office to introduce myself as I had been 
instructed by Dr. Dawson, while his car I heard chug off into the distance.

There was no reply from within.  I knocked once more and louder; and yet
no reply.  Innocently I turned the handle and opened the door, thereby
committing my first crime at my new school and home. 

"Boy!  Enter only at MY word.  Wait outside!" ordered a severe man's voice
from a part of the office I could not yet see.

"But Miss, I am a new boy here and was told to come and see you at once," I
ventured timidy.

That the creature that then appeared from behind the door could be, in its
wrinkled, warty and hairy condition, a woman, amazed me.  Yet it wore a
nun's habit.  I had eaten heartily the last breakfast at my old home and I
should have soiled myself at that very moment, when I first saw that
dreadful visage, as its mouth with crooked, stained teeth, opened and
gaped at my audacious entrance.  "Boy! Go to that corner and remove your
clothes, IMMEDIATELY," it commanded.  I tiptoed to the corner, barely
daring to make a single sound and gingerly undressed.  I stopped at my
underpants.  "All of them, knave!" it bellowed; and I, terrified, obeyed.
"Now, face the wall and be silent," said she whose gender I dared not then
assume. 

I waited silently but nervously, naked and embarrassed.  Standing on a
cold floor, cold myself and growing colder, I couldn't bring myself to look
round.  At twelve o'clock (and it had been almost ten when I had first
knocked) the head mistress finally addressed me.

"Woe to you, boy, for rudely interrupting me," she intoned grimly.  From
somewhere behind me I heard a russle of some material.  Taking me by the
shoulder she pulled me from where I stood and place on the floor a sheet
of heavy, clear polythene.  "Stand on the sheet, boy," she said and I obeyed.

Then she removed from a hook on the wall a long, thin piece of cane, which was 
cruelly forked at one end.  I had never whitnessed nor merited corporal 
punishment, but I knew what was to happen. "Face me and put out your hands," she 
said.  I did so.  And then after glaring at me for a moment she suddenly, 
ferociously started the beating, randomly attacking either hand with the cane.  
I had started to cry almost before the first hit, already humiliated more than 
in all my earlier days.  With the pain and the force of the blows I could barely 
hold my hands out to her.  After five minutes of abuse, she slowed her rate of 
attack and after a two more minutes stopped.  I was still whining and moaning 
pitifully fifteen minutes later; my hands were red and on fire, I had been 
standing up for more than two hours, I was cold and naked and now I badly felt a 
sense of urgency about my bowels.

Of course, the nun had studiously ignored my misery.  But finally she wearied of 
my noises and said, "Most boys would have finished wailing long ago.  Stop 
crying now before I give you further cause to do so!"  But I wailed on 
regardless, barely listening and not comprehending her admonition.

"Be quiet and listen, child," she started. "At two o'clock you will go with me 
to the school nurse who will examine you and then Mrs. Rayne will instruct you 
in the routines of this establishment.  Understand, boy, you will not speak 
unless you ordered to by a member of staff."

"Yes, miss," I said.

"YES, SISTER." she roared.  "I am a nun of the Holy Roman Catholic church and 
you must and WILL address me correctly!"

"Yes, Sister", I corrected myself.

"And?"

"What miss? (Sorry... Sister)" I stammered.

"What?  WHAT?  Do not 'what' me, boy.  The words you are expected to utter are 
'Yes Sister, sorry Sister, I Apologise, Sister" she intoned sternly. I, under 
her withering glare, burst again into fresh discord of wailing.  She looked at 
me in contempt and said, "Very well, I shall give you further cause to cry.  
Face the wall, and bend over; put your hands on your knees."  I did so although 
I could hardly prepare myself for the oncoming assault.

"Move your legs apart," she commanded. I obeyed. "Further still," she demanded.  
I obeyed again.  This time she took (from within her habit I believe) a thick 
leather strap, also forked at one end.  And again came first the fierce, random 
assault, sometimes on one buttock, sometimes on the other, sometimes in the 
middle.  Another five minutes or so later the pace slackened.  But now she took 
me roughly by the hair and continued the beating, fiercely but surely slapping 
each bum-cheek alternately.  Crying, indeed wailing, a wished it all over. And 
then by nature, all that I had somehow contained in my bowels when I first 
entered some three hours earlier, I contained no longer.  Sister Coyne observed 
me and stopped beating me while I urinated down my leg and defecated a veritable 
mount onto the plastic sheet I stood on.

"I see that you need some toilet training, child," she commented as I stood 
sheepishly, desperately wanting to disown the pile and puddle between my feet. 
"You will learn to contain yourself in future, do you understand?"

"Yes, Sister; sorry, Sister; I apologise, Sister," I managed to say between 
sobs.

"You have recieved sufficient punishment for this now.  Your belongings which 
you brought with you are confiscated and will only be returned in exceptional 
circumstances."  She took a plastic sack from a drawer in her desk and put in it 
the clothes that I had been wearing earlier. "These too will be returned when 
you merit them," she added.  Am I to go about naked?  I thought it but dared not 
open my lips.

"Now we shall go to the nurse for your examination. Pick up that refuse," she 
said.  I thought she was referring contemptfully to the sack with my clothes in 
and turned to pick it up.  "NO!  THAT REFUSE!" she bellowed and pointed to 
between my legs.  I was dumbfounded by this. "PICK IT UP NOW, BEFORE I RUB YOUR 
NOSE IN IT, BOY!"  Fearing an immediate continuation of violence, I stooped and 
picked up my own faeces in my bare hands, red and somewhat raw as they were.

"Follow me, and do not drop any," she commanded as I turned my nose away from 
the smell.  The head mistress then picked up and folded the sheet I had stood 
on, taking care not to allow any urine or small globs of excrement onto the 
stone floor.  She walked out of the door with the sheet and marched briskly down 
the corridor I struggled to keep up with her and yet not spill what I had in my 
hands.  My first day at my new school was a nightmare; I could not believe I was 
running naked down a school corridor, crying, and carrying my own shit in my 
hands.



Part 3 - The Nurse
------------------

I saw no-one as I followed Sister to the Nurses office.  I was almost running 
down the corrider after Sister when we came to the nurse's office.  Sister 
knocked, entered and pulled me in by the hair; I barely kept hold of the shit in 
my hands.

"This 'boy' is to be examined; he's new and has a bit of a bowel problem," she 
said contemptuously as she introduced me.  She put the folded sheet on the 
floor, this one tiled.  "When you've finished with him, call Mrs. Rayne to take 
care of him," she told the nurse.  And to me she said, "You have started off on 
the wrong foot in this place, boy.  Do not let me hear your name again!" And 
then she left and closed the door behind her, leaving me with the Nurse.

Nurse, it seemed, was a real female, or at least, one that could be obviously 
identified as such.  A tall woman she was and with long, fair hair and a pretty 
face.  Stern, but in comparision to Sister, she was maternal, gentle.

She went to a cupboard and pulled out a transparent PVC apron and put it on, 
deftly tying the band into a bow at her back.  After this, she pulled out a pair 
of disposable polythene gloves and put these on too.  Then, taking the polythene 
sheet that Sister had brought in, and unfolding it carefully onto a large table, 
she emptied my hands on to the sheet.  Then, carefully and deliberately, she 
lifted me up and set me on it;  I was now sitting in a mixture of my own shit 
and urine.

"Now then, let's have a look at you.  Lie on your back."  She pushed me onto my 
back gently but firmly and then proceeded to look at various parts of me.  She 
looked at my eyes, nose, ears, mouth, teeth and tongue.  She searched my hair 
for lice, examined my penis and checked that my testicles were in the right 
place.

"Turn yourself over, please," she said.  I did so; some of the shit stayed on 
the sheet so that I now had shit spread on my bottom and on my lower stomach.  
"Just relax," she said.  I forgot about my dirty hands as I folded my arms in 
front of me and tried to relax while she gently spread my legs and pulled my 
buttocks apart.  I felt her put something cold on my anus.  "It's just a soft 
cream," she said; "I have to take an anal reading to get your temperature; it 
shouldn't hurt at all."  She applied some cream to a large looking thermometer 
and gently pushed it into my rectum as far as it would go.  I winced slightly; 
she apologised softly.  She took the sides of the sheet I lay on and brought 
them up over me so that I was now wrapped up in the plastic.

I lay there for about five minutes, wrapped in plastic and with a thermometer up 
my bum.  In the mean time she changed her plastic gloves and prepared a small 
beaker in which was some liquid and beside which lay a length of rubber tube.
When she had finished, she came up to me, unwrapped the plastic and removed the 
thermometer from my rectum.  She wiped it clean and confirmed the temperature as 
correct.

Then she approached with the beaker and tube.  One end of tube she pushed up my 
anus, the other she carefully pumped the liquid down. I felt a warm, rushing 
feeling in my innards. Nurse removed the tube from me and as she did I couldn't 
help but release everything else that had been lingering inside me.  A revolting 
brown-yellow puddle now appeared between my open legs.  Nurse however prepared 
another table with a clean sheet, lifted me onto it and disposed of the earlier 
one and everything on it.

"Now then, we had better get you cleaned up before I call Mrs. Rayne to collect 
you."  She led me to a corner of her room where a shower cublicle was, and after 
handing me soap, sponge and shampoo, left me alone to shower myself.  

And so I finally emerged, clean and without a trace of my former dirtiness.  My 
hands and buttocks still stung from the beatings and I cried when I thought of 
how wonderful it would have been to go to Aston College.



Part 4 - The First Teacher
--------------------------

Nurse must have cleaned up her office while I took my shower.  There was now 
nothing to be seen in evidence of my earlier examination.  A large, rough, white 
towel had been left for me on a nearby chair.  I sat down, dried myself and 
waited, still naked, for the arrival of Mrs. Rayne.

I was bewildered by the day's events.  The nun had told the nurse that I had a 
bowel problem.  Yet it was she who had made me stand for hours, naked and not 
moving and needing to go.  She had also placed the plastic sheet under me; had 
she therefore expected me to display the incontinence that later ensued?

Mrs. Rayne entered.  She was not quite so tall, nor so broad as the nurse and a 
had brown hair which she tied in a bun behind her head.  On her nose was perched 
a pair of round-rimmed glasses.  I guessed as soon as I saw her that she would 
not be tolerant of any misdeed: she looked precisely the kind of old-fashioned 
female teacher I had seen in so many old movies. She was smartly dressed and 
introduced herself as "Mrs Rayne, I teach Mathematics and I am pastoral tutor 
for 12-14 year olds.  You will share a class and dormitary with other boys of 
about 12 or 13 years old.  Follow me to my office, Peter," she said and I 
followed, still undressed but relaxed: she of all the staff was the first to 
call me by name.

"Now then, young man," she said once we had both arrived and had sat down.  
"Sister Coyne tells me that you were indiscreet on the floor of her office.  
This kind of thing will simply not do, you know. You must also understand that 
if Sister is very busy she will simply accept no interruption, no matter what 
the need!  However, I understand that Sister has already dealt with you and so 
we may forget this incident."  I nodded gladly.  "Now, we must find you 
something to wear."

>From a cuboard by the office's small window, Mrs. Rayne removed a large 
cardboard box and handed it to me.  "Your uniform," she said, "is in here.  Put 
it on now while I talk to you."  I opened the box and withdrew the contents.  
Three items: a pair of soft gym shoes, a pair of overalls and a badge with my 
name on.  I pulled on the overalls, slipped on the shoes and clipped the badge 
on my chest. The overalls were of a heavy, navy blue, cloth material and the 
outside was plasticised and felt smooth to the touch.

Mrs. Rayne began talking. "In a short while we will go to your first class where 
you will introduce yourself.  A boy there called Daniel will be responsible for 
telling you most of what you need to; you will follow him to lessons and he will 
show you to the bed set aside for you in the dormitary,  You will be informed 
later of the dormitary rules."

"Now, this establishment operates as follows" she said handing me a small piece 
of paper, on which was set out the day's routine.

	Monday - Friday:
		 7.00am		Wake up call.
				Rise immediately; wash and dress.

		 7.20am		Breakfast in the main hall

		 7.45am		Breakfast ends
		
		 8.00am		First class begins
		 9.00am		second class begins
		10.00am		third class begins

		11.00am		Daily exercise in the yard.
		
		12.00pm		Lunch

		 1.30pm		Fourth class begins
		 2.30pm		Fifth class begins
		 3.30pm		Sixth class begins
		 
		 4.30pm		Daily class cleaning routine
		 
		 5.00pm		Dinner

		 5.30pm		Start homework or private study
		 
		 8.30pm		Dormitary cleaning
		 9.00pm		Bed time.

	Saturday and Sunday:
		 8.00am		Wake up call.
		 8.20am		Breakfast
		 9.00am		School cleaning routine begins
		10.30am		Daily exercise in the yard

		12.00pm		Lunch

		 1.00pm		Private study or homework time

		 5.00pm		Dinner

		 8.30pm		Dormitary cleaning
		 9.00pm		Bed time.


The routine was not so unlike the one at my previous home.  I expected that I 
would get used to it and fit in quickly, despite the day's disturbing beginning.

"Discipline," Mrs. Rayne began, "is of the essence in this establishment, do you 
hear me, young man?"  I nodded my understanding. "Hard work and firm self 
discipline will be rewarded.  Any lapse in discipline will be punished.  Three 
consecutive lapses or a grave lapse will result in a black mark against your 
record here.  Three black marks earns the most severe punishment.  Today you got 
off lightly."

I shuddered at what I heard.  Earlier I had been soundly beaten on my hands and 
my bottom for some twenty minutes and then had been forced to carry my own body 
waste around the school with my bare hands.  And now I was told I had escaped a 
more severe punishment.  I wondered if the boy I was to meet, or any other boy, 
knew what more severe punishment might be meted out for the ultimate 
transgression.



Part 5 - The Routine
--------------------

I followed Mrs. Rayne out of her office and along the corridor to a door which 
bore a brass plaque engraved 'Class 1'.  She opened the door and entered the 
room; I followed.  The class room I was in was laid out with rectangular tables 
set so that two people could sit behind them on old, hard, wooden chairs, and 
face the front of the class where there was a large blackboard and a desk for 
the teacher.  Most of the tables were empty and when I looked around I counted 
only twelve other boys, all dressed in the same navy blue overalls as I wore.  
The middle table of the front row was right before the teacher's desk.  There, 
alone, sat a boy with blond hair, a little bigger than I. He glanced at me and 
shot a quick smile.  I smiled back.

"Introduce yourself, young man," said Mrs Rayne to me as she led me to the front 
of the class.

"My name is Peter Phillips," I began nervously.  "I am twelve years old and I am 
starting here today.  I like reading, playing the piano and doing word puzzles." 
I stopped and looked at Mrs. Rayne who motioned me to be seated beside the blond 
boy who was later to show me around.

"Now then, class," started Mrs. Rayne, "we shall start this afternoon's maths 
work.  I believe we had just started looking at simple equations.  Peter, your 
old headmaster's report tells me that your numeracy skills are very advanced.  
So, you will have no difficulty solving this equation."  She wrote up an 
equation on the board which I immediately solved for her.  She then went round 
the class several times giving each an equation to solve.  She handed me an 
exercise book, a maths text book and then set us all some work to do and we sat 
quietly at our tables and proceeded with the exercise.

At length, an alarm bell sounded.  Mrs. Rayne stood up and addressed us all. 
"Right!  Now we shall clean up the class before we proceed to Dinner.  Make sure 
you all finish the set problems before the next class; that is your homework if 
you haven't already finished."  She brought from a small closet three brooms and 
two dustcloths and handed them at random to some of the boys who then proceeded 
to sweep the floors and dust down the tables and windowsills.  One boy with 
light brown curly hair came to the desk I shared and began to wipe the dust from 
it.  I noticed that his rear area was padded and concluded that he must be 
wearing something underneath his overalls.  He saw that I had noticed his 
bulging behind, glared at me and then continued with his cleaning.  

A little later another boy passed by, sweeping the floor with a broom.  He had 
ginger hair and freckles and he also had a padded behind and when he bent over 
to sweep the dust into a dustpan, I could smell a faint odour which I found 
familiar.  He too saw that I was aware of his larger than average behind but 
unlike the other boy, he smiled at me and moved so that his bottom was right 
beside me, almost in my face.  I could smell urine, certainly.  The boy finished 
his sweeping and dumped the dust from the dustpan in the class bin which then 
taken away to be emptied by yet another boy.

The cleaning now done, Mrs. Rayne told the class to return to their dormitaries 
to wash before the evening meal which would be in twenty mintues or so.  She 
went to the classroom door and ushered us all out. I followed Daniel who showed 
me to the dormitary I would share with him and all of the other boys in that 
class.  The dormitary had sixteen beds, each with a bed side locker.  One such 
bed had been set aside and made up for me while three others, at the far end of 
the dormitary were spare.

Daniel pointed out my bed and said, "This is your bed, Peter. I'm Daniel.  This 
is our Dorm."  He showed me round the dorm quickly and introduced some of the 
other boys to me.  The two boys with the bulging behinds were not present then; 
I asked Daniel who they were.  "Anthony was the one who dusted our table.  The 
carrot-topped boy," he smirked, "is David."

"David smelt bad," I ventured to comment.

"He has to wear diapers and plastic pants - all of the time.  He isn't allowed 
to use the toilet anymore," Daniel replied.  "He's been wearing them for three 
months now and has got used to it.  He got into trouble for missing the start of 
Mr. Wood's English lesson because he went to the toilet for too long, and so, 
Mr. Wood said he had to wear diapers for a while."

One boy was there who Daniel had introduced by the name of Michael.  Daniel and 
Michael were both thirteen years old.  "Anthony also has to wear them," Michael 
said.

"Did he spend too long on the toilet too?", asked I.

"No! he missed one of the chemistry teacher's homework assignments.  Mr. Aitken 
often makes boys were them if they misbehave in anyway," said Daniel. 

"Did he get a black mark?" I asked.  I wondered about the severe punishments for 
misbehaviour that had been mentioned previously in the day.

"No," said Daniel, "that takes three mistakes.  I don't think anyone in our dorm 
has got a black mark yet."

We talked a little longer and I discovered that both Michael and Daniel had once 
had to wear diapers for misdeeds.  But unlike David, they had been taken out of 
them after a fortnight or so.  Anthony on the other hand had been in and out of 
diapers so often that Mrs. Rayne had decided he should stay in them until the 
end of another year.  A few of the other boys in the dorm had also been in 
diapers for this or that misdeed; it seemed a common enough punishment.

Before we knew it, the clock had passed five o'clock and the three of us hurried 
along to the main hall for the evening meal.  There was a small queue outside 
and at the end stood Anthony, slouching miserably as he waited.

"Be careful of Anthony," whispered Michael, "he likes to cause a bit of trouble 
sometimes."  I joined the queue at the end with Michael and Daniel between 
Anthony and me.  As we slowly entered the hall I smelled what I had smelled from 
David earlier.  I looked over at Anthony who was trying desperately to be 
invisible.  He lowered him self on his hunkers several times and then raised 
himself.  The smell raised some comments from the boys near him. I, remembering 
my earlier ordeals, remained quiet and tried not to catch his eye.

A male teacher who had been walking round the hall, keeping an eye on the 
dining, heard the chatter centered around Anthony and walked up to us.  "Anyone 
who would like to be similarly attired will be so if I hear another sound," he 
said to us brusquely.  We shuffled along the queue and finally I, last in line, 
entered the main hall.  

There were about fifty boys in the hall, eating or waiting for dinner.  I soon 
noticed that not all were wearing the same navy blue overalls.  At the counter  
we were to pass to collect our food stood five such boys who did not have 
overalls.  Two were diapered and sported clear plastic pants with small locks at 
the back; it could be clearly seen that one of them had soiled his diaper.  
Another boy had only the plastic pants on him and his bare behind could be seen 
easily through the clear plastic.  The next two boys were completely naked.  I 
wondered what transgressions they had all committed.  The five boys took their 
meals and sat down to eat.  

Shortly, I too was sitting down and eating the evening meal and in silence under 
the watchful glare of the teacher on duty. The meal was a sturdy one, a pie with 
meat and vegetables.  I realised that I'd not eaten since breakfast and 
consequently attacked the meal enthusiastically.

As it happens, Michael, Daniel and I had sat down near the other boys in our 
class.  Being hungry, I had simply taken the first seat to be seen and had 
unthinkingly sat down opposite Anthony.  I watched the two naked boys leave the 
hall with the boy wearing only plastic pants.  In my single moment of 
distraction, I missed Anthony's trick.  We started on our desserts and, still 
hungry, I took the first, large spoonfull without even looking at what I was 
eating.

I spat out the mouthfull immediately, the salt taste quite incompatible with the 
sweet of the cream, "Ugh!"  Anthony snickered at me.  "That's not funny," I 
said, glaring at him.  He glared back and snickered again.  I could not help now 
but laugh in return.  In the meantime, the duty teacher had walked up behind me. 
He took me by the hair and pulled me to my feet.

"Would you care to share your joke with everyone else, boy?" he demanded, 
shaking me roughly by the shoulder.

"Sir, somebody put salt in my pudding," I started.

"What is that to me?  There is to be no talking over meals.  I told you to be 
quiet earlier, did I not?" he continued.

"Yes, Sir," I replied

"Wait outside the hall for me immediately the meal is finished," he said.  "Now, 
sit down and be quiet," he finished and continued his prowling.  If I hadn't 
already been in enough trouble, I was now in more.  Daniel and Michael finished 
there meals, heads down, casting only the gravest of looks at me as I tried to 
finish my spoilt dessert.

My meal now finished, I took my dirty crockery to the appointed place and left 
the hall to wait for the teacher.  Some few moments later, he came through the 
hall doors and marched me down to his office.  The name on his office door read 
'Mr. Aitken - Science'.  I was dragged roughly into the office. In the corner I 
could see the boy I had seen earlier who still wore a pair of plastic pants but 
no diaper.  He was about fifteen years old who stood facing the wall, hand on 
hips, legs slightly apart and just slightly bent over.

"Right, lad," he started, "You will now find out how I deal with misbehaviour."

>From a box in one corner he withdrew a small pair of plastic pants, pretty much 
like those the other boy was wearing.  From another box he withdrew a disposable 
diaper.  "Remove your overalls then lie on the floor," he commanded. I did so.  
"Bring your knees to your chest," he said; and I obeyed.  He placed a hand 
accross my bottom, lifted me slightly and placed the diaper underneath.  Then, 
motioning me to place my feet back on the floor, he brought round the sides and 
middle of diaper and secured the tapes in place.  Finally, he put my legs 
through the leg holes of the plastic pants and pulled them up to my waist.  The 
pants had draw-strings at the waist line but emerging at the back; these could 
be secured tightly by a lock mechanism.  The pants already fitted snuggly before 
Mr. Aitken tightly drew the strings and fastened the lock.  "You can put your 
overalls back on now." he said.  I did this, feeling glad that my diaper and 
plastic pants would not be seen under my overalls.

"Now, wait here until I return," he said and left the office closing the door 
behind him.  I was reminded of the presence of the other boy by the sound of his 
shuffling about.  Now that the teacher had left he assumed a more comfortable 
posture.

"What did you do?" he inquired.

"Someone put salt in my dessert when I wasn't looking; he caught me complaining 
about it" I replied.

"Oh," he said, "talking at the dinner table will be probably keep you in diapers 
for a couple of weeks with a change every day, I expect."

"What happened to you?" I asked in turn.

"Hmm... talked in class, failed a homework or two... or three," he answered.  
"He'll probably tell you to return tomorrow evening or the evening after when 
he'll check you've gone in them," the boy continued.

"Why were you standing in like that earlier?" I wanted to know.

"Well, sometimes he gets suspicious that you might, well, somehow be going to 
the toilet normally and so he makes you come and show that you're not.  You have 
to stand in a way he thinks will make you go then and there."  The boy was 
shifting around nervously and I sensed he was close to letting go.

"Oh," I said.  "How long have you had to wear just these pants?", I asked.

"Since yesterday morning.  I talked in class so he removed the diaper and the 
pants I'd just been changed into and told me I would be wearing only these pants 
from now on."

"But..." I started, "there's nothing to absorb your pee anymore!"

"Yeah," he replied, "I've hardly drunk a thing since then but I've eaten enough 
and I'm trying to hold it all in."

I shuddered and wondered whether I would ever have to endure such a punishment.  
As if he were almost reading my thoughts he said "I'm not the only boy to get 
this.  You don't want to hear what the some of the other teachers do!"

"Huh?" I said.

"Yeah.  One boy got sick of wearing his diaper and tried to get out of it.  Mr. 
Wood found out and..."

He was cut off in mid-sentence.  The door handle moved and the boy quickly 
resumed his previous posture.  Mr. Aitken entered and sat behind his desk and 
placed his feet on the top.  His glance alternated between me and the other boy 
who he could see was getting increasingly nervous.

"Wilson," he said, obviously addressing the other boy, "you do know, don't you, 
that I can make you go in your pants?"

"Yes, Sir" the boy answered.

"Then get on with it," he commanded, raising his voice somewhat.

At this point the boy in the plastic pants abandoned resistance and did as he 
was told.  I watched, in near fascination, as a yellow tint appeared at the 
front of the pants. And then slowly, over almost a minute, a dark brown mass 
spread from between his legs and a little way up the buttock crease.

"Good boy, Wilson," Mr. Aitken applauded mockingly. "Now, take a seat just there 
won't you," he invited him.  Wilson sat down gingerly.  "So, how long would you 
like to stay in same pants, lad?" he asked.  Wilson did not answer. "A 
week, two weeks, perhaps?" continued Mr. Aitken.  The prospect shocked both of 
us: wearing the same pair of plastic pants for even a week, with a week's waste 
in them, would be unbearable.  It would be uncomfortable within a day or two, I 
imagined.  "Come back in a week, Wilson.  I'll decide then whether you merit a 
change," the teacher concluded.  Wilson got up and started to leave the room.   
"Oh, and don't forget, it is *your responsibility* to clear up any seepage;  I 
don't expect those pants will hold in a week's worth even if you do only go 
every other day." Aitken said finally.

Wilson left the room miserably and closed the door after him.

"Now, young Mr. Phillips.  You have seen how I deal with small problems.  Pray 
that you never present me with a larger problem," said the teacher.  "I 
understand you have just started here today; and so, I exercise lenience in your 
case.  You will report to me here, tomorrow lunch time when I will check that 
you have left something in that rag you're now wearing. I will then authorise 
the nurse to change you.  Do NOT try and remove your punishment.  You may go 
back to your dormitary."  And he pointed at the door, motioning me to exit. And 
I did so.

I walked away, waddling slightly as I was not quite used to the sensation of 
wearing a diaper and plastic pants.  I soon caught up with Wilson who was 
walking slowly and carefully, grimacing and trying not to let anything escape 
from his plastic pants.

"Are you alright?" I asked him.

"What do you think?" he replied crossly  He beckoned me to follow him and soon 
we came to the boys' toilets.  Strangely, Wilson went in to one of the stalls 
and squatted over the toilet there.  Softly he pulled slightly at the elastic 
around the leg and seperated it from the skin; and in some few movements managed 
to get most of the liquid to trickle out.  Finally he took some toilet paper and 
wiped the skin where the leg borders of his pants were.

"Won't you get wrong for this?" I asked, worried that a teacher might enter and 
catch him trying to avoid his punishment.

"Nah," he said, "most of the teachers only need to see that you've had a shit.  
If they can see shit on you somewhere they'll usually be satisfied not to worry 
about piss.  Now I've got to wear these for a whole week before I get a change."

"Have you ever had this punishment before?" I asked curiously.

"Not me," he answered. "I've been in and out of diapers for the last three years 
now so I'm used to not having access to a toilet.  You can get used to a 
routine, you know.  But normally, I got changed every two or three days; we used 
to get changed twice a day before the councils took over the place and cut the 
orphanage's money."

Had we not both been washing our hands when Mrs. Rayne walked in we might both 
have found ourselves with further punishment.  She sent Wilson back to his 
dormitary and led me back to mine.  She observed my nervous walking.

"I see you have been put in diapers, boy.  Another lapse in discipline before 
tomorrow's out will earn you a black mark," she said sternly, as she leant over 
me.

I went in to my dorm, lay on my bed and started to cry again.  Daniel, who was 
lying on this bed reading a book, noticed me and came over and sat beside me.  
He put his hand on my shoulder.  I told him about my day from the start and 
about Wilson's punishment and the threat of a black mark.

He said, "Well, you'd probably have ended up in diapers sooner or later.  After 
this morning, I'm surprised you weren't put in them straightaway!  A lot 
of the teachers like keeping boys in diapers and Andy's punishment happens often 
enough too.  Just about every boy I've met here has worn diapers at least once 
and it was usually for a small offence the first time.  If you get a black mark 
you'll be in diapers for at least a whole term."

Daniel and I completed our homework from the day's maths lesson and spent the 
remaining time before bed reading and chatting.  A short while later Anthony and 
David, the ginger haired boy, came in to the dorm.  They both walked up towards 
my bed.

"Welcome to the diaper club," David smiled at me enthusiastically.

"Yeah," smirked Anthony.

"What's so good about it?" I snorted.

"It feels good; you'll see," said David.

"You'll have to get used to it, anyway", Anthony continued.  "When do you have 
to go back to Aitken's office?"

"Tomorrow lunch time," I said

"As early as that!  Better have a large breakfast."

"Why?"

"Because Aitken'll want to see that you've gone all the way in them and he'll go 
mad if he thinks you're trying to avoid that," said David..

"But... why does he like people to pooh in them?" I wondered.

"Don't know." said David.

Michael who had previously been working on his bed came over and joined our 
chatting.  "I don't think he really likes us messing ourselves; it's just he 
likes making things inconvenient for people.  Most teachers seem to be like that 
here when it comes to punishments."

At that moment Mrs. Rayne walked in and announced that we should prepare for 
bed.  The remaining boys came in and we completed the introductions.  Three or 
four more of the boys appeared to be diapered.  Following Mrs. Rayne's exit from 
the dorm, some of the boys started undressing; mpt that there was much to 
undress.  I asked Daniel, "do we get pyjamas?"

"No," he replied.  "The overalls are the only clothes you get here. Sometimes a 
teacher confiscates them as part of a punishment."

"Like the two boys in the hall tonight?"

"They're in Andy's class.  One of them's got an allergy against the material 
they make the overalls from so he has to nude."

"What about the other" I asked.

"Don't know; must've done something wrong."

I looked around the dorm.  Three boys, David included, had removed their 
overalls. Only David was wearing diapers, however; the other two were now naked. 
"What about them?" I asked.

"You can sleep without them if you want.  But you won't get anything else," he 
said finally as he got into his bed.

I looked over at David in his diaper and shiny, clear plastic pants.  He was 
sitting on this bed with a silly grin on his face, seemingly looking nowhere.
I went over and asked if he was alright.

"I am now," was his reply.  I looked at him blankly.  He went on all fours on 
the bed, and pointed his posterior in my direction.  I could clearly so a muddy 
stain coming through the diaper.

"Oh!" I said.  David put his butt back on the bed and let his legs hang over the 
side.  He then started wriggling his backside about on the bed.

"Does it hurt?" I asked giving him concerned look..

"Not for me," he replied with a grin which suggested near-satisfaction.

I walked back to my bed in a confused state of mind.  Diapers didn't seem to be 
a punishment for everyone even if that was the teacher's intention.  I climbed 
into bed and lay back.  I started wondering whether I would be able to get used 
wearing a diaper a lot and regularly making a mess in one.  I wondered whether I 
might end up like David, who it seemed enjoyed his punishment.  It was ten 
minutes past nine when Mrs. Rayne came back into the dormitary.  After checking 
that everyone was in bed and tucked in, she put out the lights and left.

Within a short time, I was fast asleep and new nothing more until the first rays 
of dawn were breaking through the curtained windows and Mrs. Rayne came back in 
and loudly rang a bell to announce it was time to rise.