Copyright © 2001 by Donnie_M72

Except for one copy for your personal use, no part of this story may be copied, transmitted, or posted either electronically, in print, or any other form whatsoever without the prior written permission of its author.

This is a work of fiction about imaginary kids who wear diapers. If you don’t like the subject, don’t read the story.

Hi. My name is Marc Santelli. At the time of this story my friends and I had just finished eighth grade. The year was nineteen sixty-three, before the world became as complicated and dangerous as it is for today’s teenagers.

My friends, Billy and Freddie, and I had been sitting around all afternoon discussing summer vacation. Billy and I had been best friends practically all of our lives and Freddie had recently been added to our group. We were temperamentally suited to each other, but what really drew us together was that we all wore diapers- all day, every day. Freddie had moved into our town about five months earlier already wearing diapers. I had done some pretty stupid things which Billy eventually joined in on and now he and I were working off an almost two-year long diaper punishment.

It was funny, though, the longer the punishment went, the less it felt like punishment. I was getting very used to diapers. Even though my punishment had started only ten weeks before, it was getting difficult for me to remember life without them. Part of Billy’s and my punishment had included two weeks with no pants at home, no hiding out in the house, and no being alone. This meant that we had no choice but to be seen walking through the neighborhood in just our diapers and plastic pants as we went back and forth to each other’s houses. Eventually, this didn’t seem so bad because people stopped noticing us and, therefore, stopped making fun of us. In any case, after that phase of our punishment ended, I pretty much decided to stop wearing pants at home anyway- they just felt too hot and confining. Freddie had told us some time ago that that was what he did; Billy also wanted to, but he was too scared to do it in front of his parents and older brother. For the time being, he did it when he was alone in his room or the house, although his brother nearly caught him a couple of times.

July had arrived and we were getting more than a little bored after three complete weeks of summer vacation when Freddie made an exciting proposition. His family was planning a sixteen-day trip to California to visit San Francisco and Los Angeles, including Disneyland, and he suggested that we might be able to go with them. I immediately got excited but Billy brought me back down to earth.

"Gee, that’s really a great idea but I don’t think my parents will be able to pay for a vacation like that for me. You know, you’re a lot richer than me and Marc."

Once again, I didn’t seem to be very good at noticing the obvious. Of course, Freddie’s family had more money than ours. They lived on the edge of town in a six bedroom house on a one acre lot. Billy and I lived in a typical postwar development of two and three bedroom houses on small lots. Also, Freddie’s parents had two cars and we only had one family car each. My heart fell as I realized that Billy was right. But Freddie wouldn’t give up on the idea.

"It won’t be that expensive, really. My mom hates to fly so we are taking the train and my parents say that we kids are traveling for one-third the normal fare. Also, when we go on vacation, my parents always get two rooms. It won’t cost much to get extra beds put in. My parents have already said that it’s OK for both of you to come. I’ll ask my dad to figure out how much it would cost."

Freddie went on to say that arrangements were already being made that included Billy and me. If our parents didn’t agree, the Zymmers were even ready to talk to them to tell them that it would be no trouble.

"Yeah, but what about all the diapers?" Billy continued, "The three of us are going to make a mountain in that amount of time and your brother still wears nighttime diapers. I don’t think our parents will let us stop wearing them just to go on vacation."

What Billy didn’t say was that he would miss his diapers if he couldn’t wear them for that long. I was beginning to feel the same way as him, but to go to California I would put up with it.

"Well, actually, it’s going to be worse than that," Freddie said. "My little brother, Timmy, is back in daytime diapers. When school let out for vacation, he asked my mom and dad if he could wear diapers all the time like me. Some of his friends already know and it doesn’t seem to bother them. He’s really a lot bolder about it than I am; he’s already walking around the house in just diapers and plastic pants even when his friends are there. He thinks it’s going to be cool to be the only seventh grader in diapers next year. But that’s not the point, my mom says that she has the diaper situation already figured out. Please, at least ask your parents. Pleeeease…"

But Billy came up with a better idea, if Freddie’s parents would agree.

"I think it would be better if your parents called our parents directly and asked them if they would give us permission to go with you. That way our parents would think it was their idea and we wouldn’t have to beg them," Billy reasoned.

"Yeah," Freddie agreed, "that’s a great idea. I think my parents will do it. But, remember, don’t let on that you know anything about this. You’ll have to act surprised when my parents call tonight."

It wasn’t until after 8:00 that Mr. Zymmers called. My dad answered the phone and I could hardly contain my nervousness over what his answer would be. He listened for a while, made short comments, and then ended by saying that he would have to talk to my mother about it first. I was crushed. Whenever he said that "he had to talk" to my mother about stuff he meant that he was going to say no. I figured my dad was going to hang up, but instead he called my mother to the phone.

"Mrs. Zymmers would like to speak to you about an idea she and her husband have." I think he said it that way so that I wouldn’t know what the conversation was really about.

My mother’s conversation was a lot longer and she seemed to be agreeing with Mrs. Zymmers. She finished the conversation by saying, "Thank you so much for the offer, but my husband and I have to talk about it… Oh, I see, yes… That makes sense… The reservations would have to be confirmed soon. Can we call you back later tonight?… Very good, thank you, good bye."

I couldn’t stand it. I didn’t want to stop watching television because I was afraid that that would look suspicious. So I decided to wait it out. For the first time in many weeks I was conscious that I was peeing my diaper out of nervousness.

"Dear, there’s some coffee left over from dinner. Would you like to join me in another cup?" my mother asked my dad.

I knew that what my mom really wanted was for my dad to go to the kitchen so that they could have a private conversation. They went into the kitchen where I couldn’t hear them. I was dying from anxiety. It felt like it took them forever to come back out but in reality they had only spent about ten minutes there. It’s a good thing that they didn’t go too much longer, my diaper couldn’t have taken much more wetting.

"Marc, please shut off the TV for a few minutes we have something to talk to you about," my dad said.

As far as I was concerned, this was a bad sign. Usually it was my dad who delivered bad news. I wasn’t going to go- I just knew it. I shut off the TV and sat on the couch, a worried look on my face.

"Now, you don’t need to look so glum," my dad began, "that call wasn’t from anyone saying that you had done something wrong."

"Oh," was all I could manage.

"Actually, it was Mr. & Mrs. Zymmers wanting to know if you could join them in their vacation to California. Your mother and I have just discussed their proposal. You know, what they’re suggesting is very expensive. I’m sure you realize that they can afford things we can’t…"

Tears of disappointment were beginning to form in my eyes when my mother interrupted.

"Now, Peter, get to the point," she said. "Stop toying with Marc."

"OK," my father said, "you have our permission to go."

I jumped up and hugged my parents and thanked them. I was delirious with joy.

"By the way," he continued, "there is one more thing. Whose idea was it to have the Zymmers call directly instead of you asking us?"

I was about to protest ignorance of what he was talking about when he looked me straight in the eye and said "Don’t try to kid an insurance man. I’ve heard every story in the book."

"It was Billy’s," I admitted.

"Well, that was very clever of him," my dad chuckled. "Oh, by the way, the Hastons agreed to let Billy go, too."

"Really?" I exclaimed, "I’ve got to go talk to him right away." With that I ran out to go to Billy’s house.

"I wonder when he’s going to notice that he’s in just his diapers and plastic pants, and a very wet one at that?" my dad asked my mom.

I heard him but decided that I couldn’t wait to see Billy; it was getting dark anyway- I hoped the wetness wouldn’t show. One of my neighborhood friends saw me run past and asked me what I had done to deserve another "no pants" punishment. I told him that it wasn’t a punishment and continued my run to Billy’s house. I was too caught up in the moment to notice the really funny look he gave me. (Only later that night as I was going to sleep did I think about what I had said. He must have thought I was a real jerk. I told him that I wasn’t being punished, therefore he must have thought that I was strutting around the neighborhood in my diapers and plastic pants in order to be seen. When was I going to learn to consider the consequences of my words?)

Mr. Haston opened the door for me and commented that obviously my parents had said yes to my going to California with the Zymmers. When I asked how he knew that, he said, "I’m just guessing, but why else would you cross the whole neighborhood in just your diapers and plastic pants?"

Billy’s older brother, Tony, came into the kitchen to get a drink. For the first time I felt myself blush with embarrassment at being seen dressed the way I was.

"Well, I hear the diaper gang is going to California," he said. "I hope that the train puts on an extra baggage car, otherwise the other passengers won’t have room for their luggage once you guys get all your diapers loaded on board," he chuckled.

His dad tried to hide a smile in reaction to what Tony had said.

"Billy’s in his room," Mr. Haston said to me.

I ran upstairs and knocked on his door. "It’s me," I said.

He opened the door a crack and quickly pulled me into the room. He was wearing only his diapers and plastic pants.

"I wish you wouldn’t be so mysterious about not wearing pants at home. Why don’t you just tell your parents that you would like to go around in just your diapers and plastic pants," I chastised.

"I just can’t. Anyway, let’s talk about California. I still can’t believe our parents said yes. This is going to be so cool," he exclaimed.

For the next hour we talked about all kinds of plans; I then said that I had to get home. We promised to talk some more the following day.

As I was leaving Mrs. Haston was watching TV.

"Would you come in here a minute, please, Marc?" she asked. "I guess you’re all excited about the trip,"

"Yes, ma’am," I answered.

I didn’t know what else to say and she seemed to be hesitating, too. In a quieter voice she said, "Marc, I don’t want to embarrass you or make you break any promises you made, but do you know why Billy is acting the way he is? What I mean is that we know that he prefers lounging in his room in just diapers and plastic pants because we can hear him putting his pants on whenever we knock on the door. Oh, dear, I’m not saying this very clearly, am I?" she concluded.

"I think I know what you’re talking about," I answered. "Billy thinks that you would be disappointed in him if you knew that he wanted to go around the house in just his diapers. You won’t tell him I told you, will you?" I added in a worried voice.

"No, dear. And thank you."

As I was leaving, Mr. Haston and Tony were playing cards at the kitchen table.

"And there goes Diaper Boy on his lonely mission trying to get home without being seen," he teased.

"Tony," Mr. Haston warned, "remember what we said about teasing Billy or Marc."

"Yes, sir," he answered blushing.

The next two weeks were filled with preparations for our trip. My mom dragged me out to buy new clothes so that I would look my best. "Sheesh," I thought, "doesn’t she know what a vacation is for? Who wants to look their best? I want to have fun!" Anyway, I eventually got some pretty neat clothes that I knew I would like wearing at school next year, too. The only problem arose when my mom kept insisting on checking the fit of my pants. It was bad enough that she lifted my shirt exposing the tops of my diaper and plastic pants but she also asked out loud if my diapers felt OK underneath. Billy said that his mom treated him the same way so I didn’t feel so bad.

But, Freddie’s shopping trip was really a disaster. His mother took him and his little brother Timmy out together. At the store she insisted that the saleslady measure both of them for a proper fit. Timmy (who really was quite an exhibitionist) immediately lifted his shirt exposing his diaper and plastic pants. The saleslady looked over to their mother questioningly who casually remarked, "They’re both in diapers." Freddie said he wanted to crawl under the carpeting he was so embarrassed. Their sizes determined, Mrs. Zymmers instructed them to pick out two pairs of long pants and three shorts that they liked and to meet her at the mirror at the back of the boys’ department. Their mother spoke quietly for a few minutes with the saleslady while the boys were making their selections.

Freddie and Timmy met their mother to show her what they had chosen. She gave each item a cursory glance to satisfy herself that they hadn’t made any inappropriate selections, either in size or fashion.

"You know, honey," she said to Timmy, "these shorts are cut in a very short European style. Are you sure you want them? Your plastic pants are going to show, especially when you sit down or bend over."

"Yeah, I know," was his answer, "but can I try them on anyway?"

Rather than contradict him she decided to let him try them on.
"OK," she said, "let’s try them all on to check the fit and to see if you still like them. I asked the saleslady if we can do it right here by the mirrors. She said that it would be OK."
It took a few seconds for Freddie to understand what she meant.

"Mom!!" he lamented, "I can’t take my pants off here in the middle of the store."

"Don’t be silly, Freddie. This will be much quicker and no one will see us- there’s practically no one in the store. Just keep your voice down or people will begin to wonder what’s going on back here."

Timmy had already started trying on the first pair of shorts he had selected. Freddie glanced around to make sure that no one was looking, quickly took off his shorts, grabbed the first pair of pants, and began pulling them on. Unfortunately, he hadn’t taken his sneakers off and the pants were too narrow to fit over them.

"Freddie, stop tugging like that; you’ll ruin those pants. Take your sneakers off and then try them on," his mother advised.

Turning her attention back to Timmy, Mrs. Zymmers was trying so hard to convince him to choose a different style of shorts that she didn’t notice what was going on with Freddie.

Freddie pulled the pants down roughly (turning the leg inside out) and quickly pulled off his sneakers. Reaching for the pants again he could see there was something wrong but couldn’t figure it out right away. Just then the saleslady came back and asked if everything was alright. She noticed Freddie’s predicament, took the pants out of his hands, fixed the leg, and then gave them back to him to try on. (I chuckled at this part of the story when Freddie was telling it but a glare from him quieted me down. Well, I thought it was funny imagining him back there- the saleslady fiddling with his pants while he was in only his diapers and plastic pants.) He fumbled some more but eventually got the pants on. His mother declared them acceptable and told him to take them off and to try on the next pair. The saleslady stayed with them the remainder of the time taking each item to a holding table after Mrs. Zymmers had approved it. Timmy had finished (having gotten only part of what he wanted- Mrs. Zymmers had insisted that he get one pair of shorts of longer length and that he could keep the other two shorter ones) and Freddie was trying on the last of his shorts, relieved that the ordeal was almost over.

"Oh, dear," Mrs. Zymmers said, "Freddie come closer; look, this side seam is split. Take them off; this pair won’t do."

He took them off and the saleslady said she was sure they had more in Freddie’s size. She went off to look for them. In the meantime, Freddie was looking for the shorts he had worn into the store.

"Mom," he said in a panicky voice, "where are my shorts?"

"I don’t know, Freddie," she answered, "maybe the saleslady took them over to the cash register by mistake. Why don’t you go look now before she comes back?"
"But, mom," Freddie protested, "that’s way over there!"

"OK, OK," she conceded, "I’ll go look for you."

At about the same moment, Karl and Andy, two of Freddie’s classmates who earlier in the year had given him trouble over his diapers (and had been grounded for two months as a result) entered the store. Karl’s parents were hinting that he would get a transistor radio for his birthday and he wanted to check them out so that he could give his parents the right hints about the one he really wanted. Walking by the boys’ department it was Andy who first spotted Freddie.

"Hey, isn’t that Freddie Zymmers over there?" He suddenly stopped and exclaimed, "Look, he’s not wearing any pants! Let’s go say hello."

Karl was worried about doing that. "I don’t know, I don’t want to get into trouble again."

"We won’t get in trouble. Look, his mother is walking toward him. Just pretend like everything is normal," Andy said.

As Mrs. Zymmers was telling Freddie that his shorts weren’t by the cash register she saw his face tighten. Turning around she saw Andy and Karl approaching; Freddie was too shocked to move.

"Good morning, Mrs. Zymmers. Hi, Freddie," they said innocently.

"Doing some shopping?" Andy continued.

Mrs. Zymmers felt bad for Freddie who was nervously shuffling from foot to foot and trying to hide his plastic pants with his hands, but she knew that she couldn’t do anything about it.

"Yes," she responded, "the whole family is taking a trip to California at the end of the month and we’re getting ready for it."

The whole time Freddie stood there red-faced. "Where is that stupid saleslady with my shorts?" he thought.

"Well, have a good trip. Good to see you again, Mrs. Zymmers. We’ll see you again in school, Freddie," Andy concluded as they walked away.

The saleslady finally arrived with the new shorts. Freddie hastily tried them on and Mrs. Zymmers said that they would do. Just as she was about to ask the saleslady about Freddie’s shorts, Timmy got up from the customer convenience chair that he was sitting in. Draped over the back of the chair were Freddie’s shorts. Not wanting to start a fight between her two sons, she quietly picked them up and handed them to Freddie. He was too relieved to even question where she had found them. Timmy, on the other hand, had a smirk on his face indicating that he had just settled some old score or other with his brother. She didn’t know it, but he also had an erection.

The departure date finally arrived. We were taking a night train that would leave just after midnight, early Wednesday morning. My dad and Mr. Haston drove us to the Zymmers where we picked them up for the ride to the train station. Our luggage had to be coordinated carefully so that the suitcase containing the diapers the four of us would use on the train would be onboard with us and not get sent to the baggage car. Between the four of us our diapers and plastic pants accounted for two very large suitcases, not including the two backpacks that would serve as diaper bags during the day.

We were booked on a deluxe train. The Zymmers would all be together in a family-sized sleeping room while Billy and I would share a sleeping compartment with a top and bottom berth. Shortly after getting on the train Mrs. Zymmers said we had to get to bed. This is when the first surprise of the trip was sprung on us, or, I should say, sprung on Freddie and Timmy.

"I won’t have enough time in the morning or evening to diaper all four of you so, Tinker (Freddie’s sixteen year old sister whose real name was Theresa) will take care of you, Freddie and Timmy. I’ll take care of Billy and Marc," Mrs. Zymmers announced.

"What?" Freddie and Timmy objected. "Why can’t you or dad do it? We don’t want Tinker to change our diapers."

"Boys," she said firmly, "let’s enjoy our vacation. This is not up for debate."

She took a couple of nighttime diapers, plastic pants, and the rest of the supplies and led us to our roomette. The porter had already fixed up the two berths and, after examining them, Mrs. Zymmers declared that there wasn’t enough room for her to diaper us. We trudged back to the family’s bedroom. Freddie and Timmy both jumped when we entered (as they were just in their diapers and plastic pants) but relaxed when they saw who it was. Mrs. Zymmers explained the problem and began making preparations to diaper us on one of the open berths. I had already been feeling uncomfortable having Mrs. Zymmers diaper me but now everyone, it seemed, would see us. Maureen (Freddie’s eleven year old sister) commented that now we really were one big family. I remember laughing nervously.

In the meantime, Tinker was diapering Freddie and making a big deal of talking to him like a little baby. Mr. Zymmers intervened and warned her to get on with the business at hand. She complained that that’s how she always did it when she babysat. Freddie seemed to be on the verge of pointing out that he wasn’t a baby but I guess he thought better of it. After all, his only underwear was diapers and plastic pants.

Mrs. Zymmers had finished with Billy and me. We were standing there in our t-shirts, socks, diapers and plastic pants. It suddenly hit me- we would have to walk to our roomette like this because none of our pants would come close to fitting. By the look on his face, I could see that Billy had had the same thought. Mr. Zymmers also read our hesitation and he offered to accompany us to our berths. We nervously stepped out into the hallway and made a mad dash for our roomette. We made it without being seen. Mr. Zymmers came along a few seconds later to show us how to lock our door and to tell us that he would come to get us in the morning. Despite the late hour, I still had a strong urge to masturbate in my diaper before going to sleep. I didn’t know if the train noises would cover it up or not so I asked Billy if he would mind if I did it. When he informed me that he had already started, I giggled and got busy. As always, the release was magical.

"G’night, Marc."

"Night, Billy."

Billy and I woke up early the next morning but since neither of us had a watch we didn’t know what time it was. Finally, there was a knock on the door. Mr. Zymmers told us it was eight o’clock and that we had breakfast reservations at eight-thirty in the dining car. We followed him to the Zymmers’ bedroom and we were almost there when two guys about our age came out of one of the other roomettes and spotted us. I think they were too shocked to react as we ducked into the bedroom to get changed and dressed.

Later that day, just before dinner, Freddie, Billy, and I were in the observation car looking at the scenery when the two guys who had seen us in our nighttime diapers came up to us.

"Can we ask you guys a question?" the older one asked.

I felt my face flush and looked over to Billy to see that he was also turning red. We had told Freddie about the two guys who had seen us in our diapers and plastic pants so he probably put two and two together and figured out that these must be the ones.

"Yeah, OK," I answered.

"Do you really sleep in diapers every night?"

It didn’t seem that he was making fun of us, so I answered with a tentative yes.

"Oh, we just wanted to know. My mom and dad have been telling us for a long time that we weren’t the only teens to have a bedwetting problem but you’re the first guys we’ve ever seen who wear diapers, too."

I didn’t want to lie to him but I didn’t want to tell him why we were in diapers, either. Freddie saved me by adding, "I wear diapers, too."

This really shocked and pleased them and we began talking about lots of things but mostly about sports. It had gotten dark by the time Timmy came to tell us that we were supposed to go for dinner in the dining car in half an hour. He casually said that if any of us needed his diaper changed, his mom was in the bedroom waiting. Because the observation car was kept dark so that you could see the night sky he hadn’t seen the other two guys there.

This time the younger one reacted in shock, "You wear diapers during the day, too?"

He had said it loud enough for several heads to turn our way. Now at least a dozen people on the train knew. I thought Freddie was going to kill Timmy. We said good bye to the two guys and headed to the Zymmers bedroom. It was only when I was getting my diaper changed that I realized that leaving the way we did had just reinforced the fact that we really were fulltime diaper wearers. We saw those two guys a couple more times on the train and they acted just as friendly as ever so I guess our diapers were not such a big deal to them after all.

I loved San Francisco even though it was really cold (for July anyway, I thought). Before leaving my mom and dad had made me read some travel articles and look at some maps relating to the San Francisco Bay area. Now I was glad that they had made me do it. We went all over the city and I knew an amazing amount of stuff. Even Mr. & Mrs. Zymmers commented on how much I seemed to know about Coit Tower, the San Francisco earthquake, the Ghiradelli chocolate factory, Alcatraz (which closed as a prison that year), and other points of interest. We also took a day trip to the Napa Valley because Mr. Zymmers wanted to visit with some clients he had in the wine business. (This is when I found out he was a consultant who helped businesses in trouble get back on their feet.)

After five days it was time to leave for Los Angeles. The hotel we had stayed at had taken care of our diapers (and other laundry) daily so it was not very difficult to pack. We would be taking a morning train, arriving in Los Angeles in late-afternoon. We had coach seats as we were not going to spend an overnight on the train. We were a little slow to get moving in the morning but we managed to arrive with enough time left over to check the baggage (except for a special diaper suitcase to take care of our needs). This train followed the coastline for much of the trip and we were treated to ever changing scenic views of the Pacific Ocean.

We had been so wrapped up in the trip that it wasn’t until after lunch that I noticed how wet I was. In fact, all four of us were finding our diapers increasingly itchy and uncomfortable. Mrs. Zymmers noticed this, too, so she asked Tinker to get the suitcase down from the overhead rack. We all followed the two of them to the other end of the car where the bathrooms were located. Shortly after boarding, Mrs. Zymmers had asked the conductor where she could change our diapers. He had said that it would be alright to use the ladies’ lounge. Tinker would stand guard while we were in there. The lounge was rather spacious so we all entered together and began taking off our pants and unpinning our diapers to speed the process along. Mrs. Zymmers opened the suitcase and began rummaging through it, a look of concern on her face.

"What’s wrong, mom?" Timmy asked.

"I’m afraid we’ve got the wrong suitcase," she answered.

"You mean there aren’t any diapers in it?" Billy queried, since we couldn’t see inside the suitcase from where we were standing.

"No, there are plenty of diapers and plastic pants, but they’re all nighttime diapers."

"But, we can’t wear those!" Freddie exclaimed, panic rising in his voice. "Our pants won’t fit over them."

"I’m sorry, guys," she continued, "but you’ll have to. I’m not letting you stay in those soaked diapers; you’ll get a terrible rash."

Our protests did no good. In another ten minutes we were all re-diapered. We begged to wear our pants over our diapers but, as desperate as we were, even we could see that it was impossible. We looked more ridiculous in bulging pants whose zippers couldn’t be fastened than we did with no pants at all. This was a lot worse than our "no pants" punishment in the neighborhood. The train was full and must have had about three hundred people on board, all potential witnesses to us putting on view our diapers and plastic pants. Worst of all, our seats were about as far at the other end of the car as you get, just two rows from the back. Mrs. Zymmers put our pants away in the suitcase and, with a giggling Tinker in the lead, we returned to our seats. I can’t describe the looks and stares we got. I’m sure most of the people must have thought we were retarded. Once in our seats Mrs. Zymmers gave us the jackets we had worn that morning in San Franciso to cover ourselves. Typically, Timmy didn’t use his and acted as if nothing unusual was going on. Later in the afternoon, just before arriving in Los Angeles, he even volunteered to go buy us some drinks in the club car, two cars down. (I was surprised that his parents didn’t stop him but I later realized that they simply didn’t want to argue with him- he really was very headstrong).

Getting off the train presented a new set of problems. If we tied the jackets around our waists at least we were covered from behind. (The girls offered Billy and me their sweaters to tie in front but as they were pink with embroidery on them, we obviously declined.) So, diapers and plastic pants clearly visible from the front, we walked off the train and into the station. The large station wagon the Mr. Zymmers had rented was waiting for us when we arrived. We hurriedly loaded the luggage on the roof rack with smaller bags placed inside the car. As cold as San Francisco had been, Los Angeles was hot. For comfort sake, Freddie, Billy, and I reluctantly took off our jackets and gave them to Mrs. Zymmers who stuffed them in the last bag to go up on the roof (Timmy was already gleefully running around in just his diapers and plastic pants). Traffic was stop-and-go and I felt like every truck driver on the road had had a chance to stare down at our exposed diapers and plastic pants. At the motel we were given adjoining second floor rooms. For some reason, Mrs. Zymmers couldn’t locate the bag our jackets were in so we had to haul our luggage up in three separate trips without pants on. I lost count as to how many people saw us at the motel, but lots of them were kids our age. We had only just arrived and already I felt that half the people in Southern California knew all about our diapers and plastic pants.

Disneyland was going to be great. Ever since I was a little kid I had watched "The Wonderful World of Disney" on TV and I felt like I already knew the park by heart. The Zymmers had purchased us two-day passports so they advised us to concentrate on just certain parts of the park on the first day since we were going to be coming back the following day. The Zymmers allowed us to roam on our own; most of the time the girls went one way and us four guys went another. The only problem with this arrangement was Timmy, not that he was a pest or anything. It was because he insisted on wearing his very short European style shorts. Even when he was just standing up you could see the bottom edge of his plastic pants. When he sat down (like in a ride) his plastic pants and diapers were obvious. Even though we were in regular shorts, we felt that the stares he was getting were causing people to look carefully at us, too. We were convinced that people were noticing our own diaper bulges. In the middle of the afternoon, we decided to ditch Timmy and get some private time without people always staring at us. We found the opportunity when he started a conversation with a girl his own age. We rationalized that he was twelve years old and that nothing would happen inside Disneyland. When we met up with the Zymmers for dinner at a restaurant near Adventureland they were obviously upset with us. They lectured us and expressed their disappointment at our behavior. Nonetheless, we stayed through the fireworks show and returned to the motel exhausted.

The following morning at breakfast we got another lecture from the Zymmers and then Mrs. Zymmers took the car out alone. I asked Freddie what was going on.

""My mom said she had some clothes shopping to do for us."

"Huh?" I pursued.

"She’s still mad about what we did to Timmy. I hope I’m wrong about what I think she’s doing."

I asked him to explain himself but all he would say was that he hoped he was wrong. Forty-five minutes later Mrs. Zymmers came into our adjoining room carrying a department store bag. From it each of us was handed two pairs of very short shorts like Timmy’s.

"I think these colors will coordinate well with the other clothes you have with you. Take the labels off and put on a pair right now. We’re leaving in five minutes. By the way, these are the only pants you are to wear for the rest of the trip."

Timmy was sitting in a corner of the room laughing at us during Mrs. Zymmers’ speech. "OK, Timmy, come with me. Let the others get dressed alone."

I picked up my shorts and tried to decide which was better. They were exactly the same except for color.

"I’m sorry I got you guys in trouble," Freddie apologized.

"That’s OK," Billy answered, "Marc and I get ourselves into trouble all the time, even without your help. Right, Marc?"

I laughed at this and agreed. Despite the situation I had a momentary feeling of happiness about being among my friends.

Ever the practical one, though, Billy continued, "We’d better get changed fast, though. Who knows what we might be forced to wear, or not wear, if we’re late."

Fearing that he could be right, we got ready in under four minutes. Disneyland was great again. It’s funny, though, I didn’t think nearly as much about people staring at us now that our diapers were obvious. I just adopted the attitude that there was nothing I could do about it so I just put it out of my mind.

The rest of our time in the Los Angeles area was also exciting. For the last two days, the Zymmers decided to switch to a hotel in Los Angeles itself. This allowed us to do even more sightseeing, including Grauman’s Chinese Theater, Hollywood Boulevard, Griffith Observatory, and Venice Beach where we went swimming in the ocean. We wore bathing suits without our diapers and this caused the funniest incident on this part of the trip. We had finished swimming for the afternoon and the Zymmers had bought us some ice cream at a beachside stand. We were sitting on a beach eating it when suddenly Billy turned very red in the face. Mrs. Zymmers asked if he was choking and he shook his head no. I was sitting right next to him so I was the first to notice the dripping under him. He had forgotten that he wasn’t wearing any diapers and he had just peed himself! He was pretty embarrassed but this didn’t stop us from teasing him. Mrs. Zymmers decided that it was time for us to be diapered again so we were taken to the station wagon and put back into our diapers and plastic pants- with those very short shorts, of course.

The trip back was uneventful except for two bratty boys who kept taunting us when no adults were around. Since the Zymmers were still requiring us to wear our short shorts, it was obvious to everyone that we were wearing diapers and plastic pants. These two boys, maybe eleven or twelve years old, would make pissing and farting noises every time they saw us alone. In a style that was Timmy’s alone, he got them to stop.

On our second afternoon on the train, the four of us were in the upper deck of a relatively empty observation car when these two guys showed up making their now familiar noises. Timmy suddenly stood up in the aisle and, in a flash, removed his shirt and shorts.

"Here," he said, "do you want to see if my diapers are wet or not?" As he took a few steps closer to them, he added, "Let me pull down my plastic pants so that you can get a better look."

The two boys were out of their seats and running down the aisle as if a snake were after them. After that they didn’t taunt us anymore (nor did they allow Timmy to get too close to them). Of course, now that Timmy had his pants off he was very reluctant to put them back on. At least we got him to put his shirt on and to stay in his seat.

My dad and Mr. Haston picked us up on Friday afternoon. The trip was really fun but there was something nice about coming home. After dropping the Zymmers off at their house my dad and I went home. (He didn’t comment on my short shorts and I wasn’t sure if my mother had noticed them since I brought my luggage directly up to my room and took them off before I greeted her.) It was nice to have the freedom to go around at home in just my diapers and plastic pants again. We had an early dinner and I watched a little TV; I was very tired and asked to be changed into my nighttime diapers early. I think I went to bed around 9:00.

The next morning I was brought totally back to reality by doing my Saturday morning chores. It was going to be a very hot day so I was glad to start early. I went directly outside in my nighttime diapers and began my few chores in the front yard. I then went and mowed the back lawn. I was just finishing the raking when two neighborhood friends, Pete and Henry, showed up to ask me if I wanted to play ball at 10:30. Especially after the experience in Los Angeles, I was less and less embarrassed to be seen in my diapers so I simply answered that I would be happy to join the game. This was only the second time that they had seen me dressed this way and I wondered what they thought. Henry unconsciously answered my question when I noticed that his pants were obviously being tented out by an erection.

After showering and being changed into daytime diapers I was practicing fly balls with myself when Billy showed up. He was carrying his baseball glove with his shorts rolled up inside it.

"You came over here like that?" I asked, surprised- especially since he had obviously carried his shorts over instead of wearing them. "I thought you didn’t want your parents to know that you wanted to go around the house in just your diapers and plastic pants. Or did you take your shorts off here in my yard?"

"No, listen," he answered ambiguously, "I have two really big pieces of news to tell you. Here’s the first. A little while after I got home yesterday, my parents sat me down and told me that since the very warm days of summer were coming that it would be alright for me to lounge around in just my diapers and plastic pants since that might be more comfortable for me. They even said that, regardless of the weather, I can make my own decisions about how I want to dress. Isn’t that great? Now I can dress however I want, with or without pants."

"Cool," I said out loud. Inside, I thought, "So that’s how Mrs. Haston decided to give permission to Billy to go around in just his diapers." Continuing out loud, I asked, "But, did you really leave your house in just your diapers?"

"Sure. This is all I’ve worn since my mom and dad gave me permission to go around in just my diapers and plastic pants. I didn’t feel like wearing shorts to come over here so I said to myself, ‘Everybody already knows, it can’t change their opinion of me one way or the other.’"

I wasn’t so sure about that but I didn’t voice my opinion. After all, I had been in just diapers and plastic pants while doing chores this morning and I had gone to his house all excited about the trip to California- but, crossing the neighborhood regularly in just diapers seemed like going overboard.

Remembering what Billy first said, I asked, "What’s the other big piece of news?"

"Oh, man, I could give you a million guesses and you would never get it," he laughed. "I still can’t believe it myself. It’s really so funny. Go ahead, make the wildest guess you can think of."

My curiosity was really getting to me and his obvious enjoyment at stalling made me jump him and wrestle him to the ground. (We used to do this a lot, but since we had been put into diapers I couldn’t remember us wrestling even once. Our plastic pants made funny swooshing sounds as they rubbed against each other.) Sitting on his legs and bending over him to keep his arms pinned to the ground I said, "You’re not getting up until you tell me." Still laughing hysterically he gasped in between guffaws, "OK, OK, I give." "Tony is in diapers full time, too," he finally said.

"What? But he just graduated high school. What did he do?"

Billy began laughing again and I had to remind him of my threat to not let him up until he told me the story.

"Alright, I give," he repeated, "I’ll tell you everything. But part of this is a secret that not even my parents know. You have to promise never to tell. Now let me up, my arms are beginning to hurt."

We sat on the lawn facing each other, cross-legged, as he told the story.

"Do you know who Karen is?" he asked.

"Yeah, Tony girlfriend," I answered.

"Not anymore," he continued, "but that’s really messed up since everything that happened started because of her."

Now I was really intrigued and coaxed him on with the story.

"I didn’t know it at the time," Billy said, "but Tony told Karen about my diaper punishment right when it started. She apparently found it very funny and asked Tony for all kinds of details. Anyway, that was during May and she never asked about it again until a couple of days after we left for California. She started asking questions about whether or not I had taken all of my diapers and plastic pants with me or if I had left any stuff behind. Tony asked her why she was so interested. She said that she thought "big" boys in diapers were cute and that she might be interested in playing some games with "her" big boy if he allowed her to put diapers on him. Of course, Tony said to forget it. But then she stopped allowing him to kiss her and do petting and stuff so he agreed to do it one time only. He went over to her house while her parents were out and she squeezed him into my diapers and plastic pants. She began to play with him through the diaper until he came. He thought that that would satisfy her but she said she wouldn’t allow any kissing or other stuff until he had wet the diaper. In a little while, he managed to get it wet and they had fun on the couch until he had to get changed because her parents were coming back soon. He brought the diaper and plastic pants home and hid them in his closet until he could get them washed. This went on three more times and he still hadn’t gotten around to washing them. My mom was putting some clean clothes in his dresser one morning when she noticed the diaper smell coming from his closet. She checked and found the wet diapers."

"Wow," I said, "Tony must be really embarrassed. Is he getting the diaper punishment because of what he and Karen were doing? Do Karen’s parents know about it, too?"

"’Yes’ to the first question and ‘no’ to the others," Billy laughed. "Let me explain. Karen’s parents don’t know anything about this. When he got home that day, he went to his room and saw the four diapers and plastic pants washed and neatly piled on his bed. He knew right away that he was hopelessly caught. He went to pieces when my mom called him to the kitchen where she was getting dinner started. She asked him to sit down at the table and explain what was going on. He was too scared to admit that he and Karen had been fooling around so he invented a story about being curious about what it felt like to be in diapers. My mom challenged him, ‘Don’t you mean wet diapers?- none of those diapers I found was dry.’ He admitted that he was curious about wet diapers and then she asked him how come he had done it four times. He kept getting deeper and deeper into the lies until his story made it sound like he wanted to be in diapers full time. My mom and dad are now convinced that he wants this," he laughed again. "After dinner that night she went to Suttee’s Pharmacy to order his diapers and plastic pants but because he needs adult sizes they already had them in stock. He’s been in diapers for ten days now."

"Wow," I repeated, "how long are they going to keep this up?"

"I don’t know, But they think that he wants this, so it seems pretty permanent to me. Besides, they got rid of all his regular underwear and bought him as many daytime and nighttime diapers as I have."

"So, does he really use them?" I pursued.

"Yeah," Billy affirmed, "he’s afraid that if he doesn’t, our parents will get suspicious and he is still too afraid to admit to what he and Karen were up to."

"This is the part that has really gotten Tony furious. After he was put into diapers he went over to her house to explain what had happened. He thought that she would be happy that he took all the blame and didn’t involve her at all. She got all agitated when he told her about his diapers and she said that diapers were just a little game- she couldn’t date a guy who wore them all the time. He got really mad and they had a big fight. Now she doesn’t want to see him and he’s really upset that she dumped him like that."

I thought about that for a while and I could see how each side had a point. Karen wouldn’t want a boyfriend whose only underwear was diapers and Tony seemed to have the right to feel betrayed because Karen had been the one to start it. "Dating can really get complicated," I thought.

"But," I said, "Tony has a job. Can’t he go out and buy regular underwear to wear during the day?"

"I suppose so," Billy said, "but how would he get them washed? My mom would see them in the laundry and he’s hardly ever home when she’s out. It would be hard to get away with. Besides, Tony isn’t even seventeen yet. (He had skipped two grades in grammar school because the school had said that he was too advanced for the other children.) He’s probably going to be living at home for at least two or three more years."

"Boy is he ever in a mess," I commiserated.

"No, not really," Billy said smiling, "just wet. At least he didn’t tell my mom that he wanted to know what it felt like to mess in diapers!"

A few moments passed in silence before Billy said, "One good thing to come out of this is that I feel closer to Tony than I ever have. Yesterday, when he got back from work, he told me the real story. He said he trusted me to not let our mom and dad know what really happened. He’s never trusted me like that before. You won’t tell anyone the real story, not even Freddie, will you?"

I promised I wouldn’t. There were three more questions I had to ask.

"Um…," I said hesitatingly, "who changes Tony’s diapers?"

"Oh, that," Billy said laughingly, "he gets to do his own changes as long as he doesn’t come down with a rash. Tony has been very careful- he’s already asked for my advice on how often to change."

"Um…," I said again, "what about work?"

"I don’t know," Billy said thoughtfully, "I don’t think anyone knows… yet."

"Last question, I promise. Well, actually, two. Does he wear pants around the house and did he tell you if he played with himself in his diapers?"

"Ever since I’ve been home," Billy giggled, "we’ve been hanging out together, watching TV, playing catch, and even preparing last night’s barbecue in just our diapers and plastic pants. You know I think Tony’s a lot like me; I think he enjoys his diapers. He’s sure taking big risks going outside in them; he must know that sooner or later someone is going to catch him."

"And…," I prompted since Billy had stopped talking.

"Uh…," he said embarrassed, "when Tony was telling me about how he got put into diapers I got really hard and he noticed it. He told me not to be embarrassed; that his diapers made him feel the same way. He sent me to my room ‘to take care of myself’ and while I was there ‘taking care of myself’ I heard him ‘taking care of himself.’"

I now knew how Henry felt when had seen me earlier in my diapers and plastic pants. I had maintained an erection during the entire story that Billy told me about Tony’s diapers and plastic pants. I was glad to know that I wasn’t the only one to react this way to diapers.

We left for the game a short time later- wearing our regular shorts, of course.

After the game, I came home and wanted to shower again. I called my mother to get me out of my diaper and, as usual, she told me to call her when I was finished so that she could get me into a fresh one. (She astounded me by saying that she had missed changing me while I was gone. Regardless of how much you think you know your parents, they always manage to say something new and incomprehensible.)

I was never a quick shower taker since I liked luxuriating in the hot steamy water. Eventually, I called for my mom and she told me to come downstairs to get dressed.

"Your father and I need to talk to you," she said.

This didn’t sound good to me. She had never done this before.

I was not aware that while I was showering, my parents had called the Hastons who, along with Billy (also freshly showered), were waiting in the living room. He was sitting on the couch and I noticed that he wasn’t wearing any pants and that his diapers looked all puffy. My dad started.

"Marc, I talked to the Zymmers this afternoon and found out why you boys were wearing those new shorts when you got off the train. I thought that you were learning how to treat people properly, regardless of what you may think of them. Now, I find out that you abandoned a younger boy in a strange and crowded place and that he had to find his own way back to his family. Why did you do this?"

How could I explain? If I said that it was Freddie’s idea, he would answer that I had to learn to be mature enough to make my own decisions and to act responsibly no matter what others did. If I said that Timmy was wearing his really short shorts and it embarrassed us because others might guess that we also were wearing diapers, he would say that the point of our punishment was for others to know that we were wearing diapers. I couldn’t think of any logical explanation so I used the universal teenage excuse.

"I don’t know," I said.

"You don’t know!" he exclaimed, his voice rising in anger. "You’re fourteen years old. How old will you have to be before you understand that actions have consequences? What if something had happened to Timmy?"

"Yes, dear, you’re absolutely right," my mother agreed. "I guess we’ll have to remind you and everyone else in a more obvious way what this punishment is all about."

"But..," I started to say before shutting my mouth. I realized that this was not a time to negotiate.

I wondered how many more months would be added to our sentence. The way that they had described our actions I prepared myself for the worst.

"Now, for the punishment," my mother announced, "three months will be added- one month for each hour that you ‘ditched’ Timmy. Also, until school starts again you will go back to a ‘no pants’ punishment, only this time in your nighttime diapers with these special plastic pants."

She held up a red pair just like those awful crinkly transparent pants I had worn on the first day of my diaper punishment.

"But those won’t fit over nighttime diapers," I said, thinking that they were the same pair I had worn before.

"These aren’t the ones you borrowed from Freddie; this is one of a set of six that I picked up at Suttee’s today. That should be enough for daytime wear. You’ll continue wearing your regular white ones at night." my mother answered "By the way, the same basic rules apply as before- no hiding in the house, no avoiding usual activities, and, especially, no avoiding your other friends."

Three months wasn’t so bad, but wearing only diapers and these awful plastic pants for the rest of the summer was too much. What would the guys say?

I was still only wearing the towel I had come down in. Billy was still in his regular white plastic pants but now I understood why they had appeared to be so puffy- they were his thick nighttime diapers. I wasn’t going to make reference to the fact that he wasn’t wearing these hideous noisy pants when his mother picked up a bag from the couch and pulled out several similar pairs. Each of us wound up with three red, two yellow and one green pair.

"What color would you like to start with?" Mrs. Haston asked Billy.

He pointed to what seemed to be the least offensive- green.

"Ok, Marc," my mom ordered, lay on the floor and I will diaper you."

As I was being diapered, Billy was ordered out of his white plastic pants and into the crinkly green ones. He had already wet his diaper slightly, but they weren’t dripping. As soon as he had the new pair on, I was horrified to see how easily the wetness of his diaper could be seen through the transparent material. The green coloring did nothing to hide his wet condition. My red pants were finally pulled on and the crinkling of our pants was horrible.

"Now, outside with you, boys," Mr. Haston announced.

We headed for my back yard.

"No, guys," my dad said, "we forgot to mention backyards are off limits, except when you’re doing chores. You either go to another friend’s house or you stay in your front yards or the street. Of course, you can go anywhere you want, as long as you tell where you’re going and when you are returning."

I was right. We became the butt (no pun intended) of every joke. One of the unanticipated problems was the varying colors of our plastic pants. Our diaper changes were less noticeable if wore the same color plastic pants for two diaper changes in a row. But, since red was the color we had the most of, we were forced to wear the most obvious pairs most frequently.

Two days after our new round of punishment began Billy and I were out in front of his house when Henry came by. He told us that a baseball game was being organized in the empty lot two streets away (our usual location). We tried to tell him that we wouldn’t be playing in any games until we got our pants back. Unfortunately, Mrs. Haston must have heard him talking to us because she came out and said the she thought it was a marvelous idea and that we had been moping around the house too much. She hinted that things could get worse for us if they (our parents) thought we were avoiding our friends. I tried to stall for time (Of course, if I had thought it through, what good would five minutes do anyway? Mrs. Haston was making us go to that game and all of the guys who would be there must have already known about our new round of ‘no pants’ punishment.)

"Um…, Mrs. Haston," I said, "my parents aren’t home now and I need to be changed and they won’t let me do it myself."
"That’s no problem, dear," she smiled back at me, "I can change you right now. How about you, Billy, do you need a change, too?"

Billy’s transparent yellow pants made it obvious that he needed a change. However, I could see he was struggling with himself. To ask for a diaper change in front of Henry would be humiliating; but, to refuse and have to play baseball in an obviously wet diaper, would be worse.

"Yes, I do," he meekly admitted.

"I’ll wait for you here and we can walk to the game together," Henry said.

This actually began a new phase of our treatment in diapers. From now on, our diaper changes took place at the nearest house. In a short time, our diapers and plastic pants had become totally commingled and this procedure continued even when we weren’t in a ‘no pants’ punishment cycle. (I have to admit to having felt a certain thrill at wearing the exact same diapers and plastic pants that Billy had worn.)

Walking to the game in just diapers and crinkling plastic pants was the farthest Billy and I had ever ventured out of the immediate neighborhood without our parents presence. Whenever I got nervous I would have an immediate and urgent need to pee and I was desperately trying to hold it in as long as possible. It was important to me at that moment to at least arrive dry at the game.

Henry confirmed my earlier thought. "It really won’t be so bad. The guys already know that you’re back to a ‘no pants’ punishment. They wanted me to invite you and, besides, you guys are just about the best players. I don’t think they’re going to make fun of you, at least not too much."

The closer we got, the more nervous I became until I couldn’t hold it anymore. I didn’t exactly flood my diapers but they were very wet. I know that I turned red when Henry looked down at my plastic pants and saw the growing wet spot. For my part, I noticed how hard he had become inside his shorts.

Once the game started I became less aware of how I was dressed. The only really annoying thing (aside from the constant taunting aimed at "Mr. Red Pants") was that the crinkling of my pants gave away my position when I was on base, making it more difficult for me to take long leads.

A few days after this I did get into mild trouble for ruining a pair of red plastic pants by sliding into second base. However, my mother couldn’t deny that it wouldn’t have happened if I had been allowed to wear something over them. It also didn’t stop her from replacing them with two more of the same color.

Freddie got the same punishment from his parents but that didn’t stop him from riding his bicycle the three miles from his house to our neighborhood. I sort of admired him for his courage but I wouldn’t go over to his house unless it was very early in the morning or it was beginning to get dark. Needless to say Timmy wore his short shorts for the rest of the summer with no apparent embarrassment. I probably would have, too, if I had been given the chance.

Summer was ending. I was actually looking forward to the beginning of high school. Things would be different but I was optimistic. Why not?

My parents and the Hastons decided that they wanted to prepare a Labor Day weekend barbecue for the Zymmers to thank them for taking us on their trip to California. I thought my parents were going overboard trying to decorate the yard and fix things up nice for the party. Maybe they were embarrassed that the Zymmers’ house and yard were much nicer than ours. I spent most of the morning arranging and fetching for my mom and dad. In the end, I guess they were right, because the yard had never looked better.

The Zymmers arrived a little after 12:30 bringing flowers for my mom and some candies that I wasn’t allowed to open until after dinner. Naturally, Timmy, Freddie and I were in just our diapers and plastic pants. ( I think that Timmy was envious of our colored pants.) My dad got drinks for everybody and we were all gathered in the backyard when the Hastons showed up. They had walked down the street and came in carrying various food items for the barbecue. The last to come around the side of the house was Tony. He was carrying a grocery bag filled with soft drinks but what made me do a double take was that he was dressed just like the rest of us- in his diapers and plastic pants. I guess Billy was right; Tony did want to be seen in his diapers. I didn’t know what had made him decide to reveal himself like this, but he had definitely put himself in the spotlight. Everyone in the neighborhood would know by nightfall. Or maybe I was jumping to conclusions again- maybe it was his parents who were forcing him to do this. I looked at him closely. No, there was no embarrassment in him at all. This was the first time he was meeting the Zymmers and he was calmly introducing himself to them. They, on their part were also perfectly polite (of course, they had a twelve year old and fourteen year old in diapers all the time), totally ignoring his diapered state. I was very excited by this and I hoped that my excitement wasn’t showing through my diaper. The adults were sitting around the picnic table and Freddie, Timmy, Billy and the girls were on the side of the house setting up a lawn darts game. Tony and I were standing apart from the rest of the group. He noticed that I was staring at his plastic pants.

"You’re surprised, I guess," he commented.

"Oh, I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to… It’s just that…" I stammered.

He nodded his head in the direction of the little gazebo that was set up in the opposite corner of the yard. We started heading that way.

"That’s OK. I’m surprised at myself, too," he admitted. "This was kind of a last second decision. If I had given it more thought I probably would have chickened out, especially walking through the neighborhood in my plastic pants and diaper."

"Really," I answered lamely.

"Yeah, when I walked out the door I suddenly realized that I didn’t care who saw me. Does that sound too weird?"

"No," I answered. "I was put in diapers as a punishment, but the more I wear them the more I like them, too. God," I blushed, "I’ve never admitted that to anyone, not even to Billy or to Freddie."

"That’s OK, I won’t tell," Tony promised.

I recognized at that moment that Tony had a lot of his father’s qualities in him. He was easy going, easy to talk to, and very open to people.

"One of the reasons I wanted to come over in just my diapers was because I knew that that’s how you four guys would be dressed," Tony continued. "This may sound stupid, but I didn’t want to be out of place. I’m glad I came over this way; I feel very comfortable."

I nodded and pondered the situation. Three families, five guys aged twelve to sixteen and all in diapers. What Tony said made sense. I, too, now had to admit to myself that diapers would be a way of life for me. No matter what, I wouldn’t give them up. I promised myself that from that day forward I would never feel bad or apologize for my love of diapers. (However, the transparent colored pants were certainly not included in this.) Tony asked me what I was thinking about and I told him. He said that he felt the same and that he had made the same promises to himself.

The others had finished setting up the lawn darts game and Tony and I were invited over to play. We broke up into two teams (with Maureen being the "extra" player on one side). We played for about an hour, but we didn’t really keep score except that Tinker took it upon herself to reward whichever boy had made the best shot with a pat on the backside of his diaper. Tony must have enjoyed this because he really tried to make good shots.

The rest of the day was just plain lazy. It got very hot and eventually the garden hose came out and we started spraying each other. The girls had bathing suits on under their clothes and we boys stripped down to just diapers and plastic pants. It didn’t take long for this to degenerate into sneak attacks and dumping ice cold water into someone’s plastic pants. Before long we all had bloated diapers and desperately needed changes. My mom wouldn’t let us into the house so she brought out our diaper bags and we were all changed right there on the patio. I noticed that Tinker was still doing the changes for Freddie and Timmy and that Mrs. Haston changed Billy and Tony, even though Billy had said that Tony usually changed himself. My dad changed me in such a gentle way that I wondered if he was beginning to suspect how important my diapers were becoming to me.

Our town was a big union town and they always sponsored a spectacular fireworks show the night before Labor Day (another reason why we were having the barbecue). The show couldn’t be seen very clearly from my house so we usually drove a few miles away to a better vantage point. Practically no one knew about this spot. As darkness was setting in we were changed into our thick nighttime diapers. It was still very hot and even though we brought shirts with us, we didn’t wear them. The thirteen of us squeezed into two cars; Billy Tony, Freddie, and I found ourselves into the back seat of my dad’s car. Every twist and turn caused us to slide into one other. After a while, it was obvious that Tony was doing it on purpose but nobody minded- it was kind of fun and naughty all at once.

When we got there, Henry (my baseball friend) and his mom and dad were already waiting for the display to begin. My dad must have know Henry’s mom and dad from his insurance business because he introduced Mr. & Mrs. Walker to the other adults. Even though it was dark I could see Henry’s excitement at our arrival- his pants were once again obviously tented by his erection. He kept moving around, mostly behind us, saying that he wanted to find the best view. I don’t think he meant the fireworks. I felt bad for him; he obviously liked the idea of diapers but he couldn’t live out his fantasy.

I wasn’t very nervous about starting high school. There were only two middle schools in our district, each with about seventy-five kids who were going into Freshman year. The whole high school had a total enrollment of only about 575 students. Since I already knew half of the Freshman class and they already knew about my diapers, I wasn’t anticipating a big problem. What I hadn’t considered was that there were Sophomores, Juniors, and Seniors who already thought it was their right to harass Freshmen. Freshmen in diapers would provide a whole new source of entertainment.

Since Freddie, Billy, and I were all in the college prep/professional track we had almost the same schedules. The only difference was that I had chosen German as my foreign language while they had chosen French. We were all scheduled for the same PE class. (Years later the coach of that class told me that he had insisted that we all be in the same group. He thought that it would be better for us to have safety in numbers and better for him to have only one class of diaper boys to worry about).

On orientation day, in order to be certified for PE class, we had to get an athletic physical. We were told to strip to our underpants (but to keep our shoes and socks on) and we would be escorted to the waiting area outside the examination room. This was the first time we exposed our diapers to the PE class and I was amazed at how little was said. In fact (since this was the nineteen-sixties), it was the two boys in boxer shorts who got the cat calls. Frank, Billy’s next door neighbor, got the worst of it since his boxers were imprinted with little roses.

The Seniors who were supposed to escort us to the waiting doctors decided to have some fun. They deliberately marched us right outside the girls locker room where a group of Senior girls were ready to ambush us. As soon as we were lined up against the wall (to be called in for our physical, we thought), the girls came rushing from the locker room shrieking and laughing at us. Some girls even wolf whistled and pretended to faint in embarrassment at being exposed to scantily clothed boys. This wasn’t too bad since it was aimed at all the guys in my class, but it did seem that we three diaper wearers got more than our share of attention. Since we didn’t know where our physicals were really being held, we didn’t run away for fear of embarrassing ourselves even further. The girls coach came out to see what was going on and reprimanded the Seniors for their little prank, although a smile never left her face.

School was a lot harder than I thought it would be. I guess Billy, Freddie and I missed out on the math gene. By one month into school it was obvious that we were struggling in algebra. Henry now attended public school with us and he was a whiz at it. (Pete’s family had moved away during the summer and Henry said that all his other friends went to public school so his parents allowed him to transfer.) We started doing our homework together after school at one or another’s house. Almost immediately we were scoring better homework and test grades.

One day, after Henry had been absent from school, we were at Freddie’s house trying to figure out what distributive properties had to do with anything when, out of nowhere, Billy said, "If Henry doesn’t get some diapers pretty soon I think he’s going to go crazy."

"What??" Freddie and I exclaimed simultaneously.

"He told you this?" I continued.

"Of course not. But, you must have noticed," Billy explained, "how he reacted at the Labor Day fireworks and how he looks at us when we are at each other’s houses in just our diapers and plastic pants? I’m surprised he hasn’t poked a hole in his pants yet."

We hadn’t talked about it as a group but Billy was right. Henry would get instantly and obviously hard whenever he saw us without pants.

"So..?" I asked.

"I know what Henry’s going through." Freddie interjected, "Before I asked my parents to put me back into diapers I couldn’t look at a kid in diapers or a diaper ad without getting an instant hard on. It must be incredibly difficult for him to hang around with us wearing just our diapers and plastic pants and him not being able to talk about it or act on it."

"Alright," I persisted, "but what can we do about it?"

"Don’t jump all over my idea right away," Billy began, "let me tell you the whole thing first. Have you seen the poster for the Civic Center Halloween Party?" (We had.) "Well, there are prizes being offered for best individual and group costumes. There is a group category for thirteen to fifteen year olds. What if we asked Henry to help us form a group called the ‘Baby Beatles’? (The Beatles were still relatively new.) Suttee’s sells Beatle wigs in the novelty section; they’re not very expensive and that’s all any of us would have to buy."

"I don’t know," I said. "It’s one thing for the three of us to have gone around the neighborhood in our diapers, but there are going to be about four-five hundred kids there. I don’t know if I could appear in my diapers and plastic pants in front of a crowd. Besides, the party is only two weeks away- do you really think that Henry would be ready to do something like that?"

"I understand," Billy answered. "Of the three of us, you’re the only who didn’t have a pre-existing desire to be put into diapers. I know that I’m not too worried about appearing in diapers publicly like that. I mean, heck, we strip down to diapers every day in PE and go to the nurse to have our diapers changed several times a day. A kid would have to be living under a rock not to know that we wear diapers."
"I know," I continued, "it’s just that not every kid has seen me in my diapers. There’s a big difference to me between their having heard about me wearing diapers and their actually seeing me in them."

"I understand, too, Marc," Freddie said, "I’m not so sure I want to go the Halloween party in diapers but we should be talking about Henry, not about you or me. I agree with Billy that we need to help Henry out. We haven’t even decided if this is a good idea or not; and even if we think it is, Henry hasn’t said ‘yes’ yet," he concluded reasonably.

We discussed Billy’s idea and possible alternatives for about a half hour (happily leaving aside the distributive properties of numbers). In the end, we decided that the Baby Beatles was a pretty good idea, that we should present it to Henry the next time he was with us for a study group, and that, most of all, we wouldn’t put pressure on Henry to say yes. It would have to be his free choice.

Henry was back in school the very next day. (He had had a twenty-four hour stomach virus. I thought that it was ironic that on the day we had talked about him and diapers he had been having bowel and bladder problems.) We told him that we needed a study group because we hadn’t understood last night’s homework and that tonight’s was even more complicated. We agreed to go to Freddie’s house again.

After about thirty minutes we were done with the math homework. That was Billy’s cue to bring up his idea.

"Are you guys interested in going to the Civic Center Halloween party?" he asked innocently.

"Why?" I asked, responding to my cue.

"Well, I was thinking that we could go to Suttee’s and buy some Beatle wigs and go as the Beatles."

"Naw," Freddie chimed in, also on cue, "That’s not very original. I bet there are going to be twenty ‘Beatles’ at the party. Besides, we need four people to be the Beatles and Henry hasn’t said if he’s interested in joining us."

I hoped that Freddie hadn’t moved too fast. His claim that all we needed was a fourth was rushing things a bit. Anyway, Henry didn’t notice because he said he thought it might be fun to go together as a group.

"I know what- I’ve got a great idea," Billy exclaimed. "Just trust me for a minute and let me give you the whole idea."

He then restated the Beatles idea, only this time he changed it to the ‘Baby Beatles.’ (I made a mental note to remember how good an actor Billy was. If I ever needed coaching on how to convince my parents about something I would definitely seek out his advice. By the end of his description even I began to believe that this was a brand new idea.) Freddie and I gave tentative sounding approvals and objections but nothing designed to swing the discussion one way or the other. Henry made the first definitive comment.

"I think it’s a very funny idea. Once we have the wigs on, it’s like being in costume. We’ll just be having fun with the Beatles. You guys are the ones in diapers all the time, if you’re willing to do it, I say we do it."

Next to come was the decision about wearing daytime (thinner) or nighttime (thicker, more obvious) diapers. Once again, Henry decided the issue.

"You guys were wearing nighttime diapers at the fireworks, right? Well, those would be funnier than what you’re wearing now."

So, that was it. The decision was made. I guess Henry didn’t realize all the information he was giving us. Not only did he remember what we were wearing at the fireworks show more than a month ago, he was also asking to be put into the thickest, most obvious diapers possible. None of us thought that it would be hard to convince Henry that he would need to wear them several times before the party so that he could ‘get used to’ them.

These decisions were made on a Thursday and Freddie asked us if we thought it might be fun to have a sleepover at his house on Saturday so that we could discuss our Halloween plans further.

Freddie got permission from his mother and the rest of us let him know the next day that we were coming. The Beatle wigs were also purchased on Friday.

At 2:00 Saturday afternoon we were all assembled in the Zymmers family room after we had dropped off our sleeping bags and other stuff in Freddie’s room. Of course, Billy, Freddie, and I had left our pants up in the bedroom. We were trying on the Beatle wigs and trying to decide how to act and whether or not we should try to mimic their accents. Everyone else thought that I should be good at it but I pointed out that my mother wasn’t from Liverpool and that I could barely even imitate her London accent. Freddie decided to push for the moment of truth at this time. Henry was still in his regular underwear and pants. Freddie’s whole family, including Timmy (running around in and out of the house in just his diapers), was at home. (I think Tinker was there because she wanted to see a new diaper boy get initiated.) Would Henry chicken out on being put into diapers?

"You know," Freddie declared, " this rehearsal would run a lot better if we were all completely in costume. That way we could figure out who should stand where and what kind of poses we want to take."

Anticipation, fear, pleasure, and anxiety ran across Henry’s face. His moment had arrived; what would he do?

"I don’t know how to put a diaper on," he said sheepishly.

"That’s OK," Freddie answered, "my mom, or Tinker if you want, are real experienced at diapering. Although, Tinker usually only does my brother and me."

"Uh,…" Henry stammered, "I guess it would be OK if your mom did it."

"Cool," Freddie affirmed, "it’s too early to get into nighttime diapers, so I’ll ask her to put you into one of my daytime diapers."
I thought Henry was going to faint from anticipation and excitement. He got up and staggered over to the stairs to go up to Freddie’s room while Freddie went to get his mother (who already knew about the Halloween plans). Five minutes later he came down in diapers, plastic pants and the Beatles wig. He had such a look of ecstasy that it was obvious that he was getting what he wanted. We all complimented him on how he looked and Tinker made him blush by giving him a couple of pats on his diapered bottom as she went by. We spent a half-hour going over how to act during the costume judging part of the party.

Indian summer was in full swing and Freddie suggested that we go outside to throw a ball around for a while. Significantly, Henry came with us into the unfenced yard even though he was putting himself at great risk of being seen by someone he knew, although nobody saw him that first day.

At sunset it started cooling down fast so we went back inside to watch TV until dinner was ready. Henry made no attempt to get changed back into his regular clothes even though it was obvious that our "rehearsal" was over for the day. A little while later Henry leaned over to Freddie and whispered something to him. Freddie answered a little more loudly, "Of course you can. I can guarantee that you won’t be the first person to pee in them." A minute or so later another look of ecstasy came over Henry’s face as he peed his first diaper as a teenager. All I could think of was the Alleluia Chorus.

That evening as we were taking our showers and going to the bathroom before getting put into nighttime diapers Henry insisted that the rest of us go first. We all knew that he wanted to stay in his wet diaper and plastic pants as long as possible. No doubt he thought that he would just wear his regular pajamas after showering but Mrs. Zymmers surprised him as she was unpinning his diaper by saying, "Hurry up and shower. After I’ve finished getting you into your nighttime diaper and plastic pants I need to go downstairs to make popcorn for you guys while you watch tonight’s TV movie."

"Really?" he exclaimed, "I can wear a diaper all night?!"
"Of course, dear," Freddie’s mom answered, "all the boys around here sleep in their diapers. I don’t know why you should be any different."

Once again, I was probably the last one to figure out the obvious. Freddie had a good relationship with his parents and he had evidently told them about our plan for Henry. She was giving Henry every opportunity to experience what he longed for.

The next morning we got up late because we had spent so much time talking after we had supposedly gone to bed. We had all slept in our sleeping bags in the family room because it was the room the farthest from the bedrooms.

Just before we started getting changed into daytime diapers, Mrs. Zymmers handed Henry an envelope.

"This is from your parents," she said.

A worried look crossed his face but he glanced at us, shrugged his shoulders, and tore open the sealed envelope. Suddenly, just as if he were a cartoon character the color drained from his face and his knees visibly started shaking. He steadied himself against the wall and then ran out of the room saying the he needed to go outside for a minute. We all wanted to follow him but Mrs. Zymmers told us to leave him alone for a few minutes. She asked us to stay in Freddie’s room until we had all been cleaned up and changed into daytime diapers. I didn’t know what to think. What had Henry’s parents told him in that letter that had upset him so much. And why had they written him a letter in the first place? I didn’t get it. Finally, we went downstairs to the family room. Through the sliding door we could see Henry sitting in a patio chair, thinking. We wanted to go outside to do some batting and fielding practice but Mrs. Zymmers told us that we would have to wait until Henry was finished doing his thinking. Despite the fact that we were worried about him, we nonetheless managed a halfway decent discussion about which girls in our class padded their bras and which girls were already developed. Finally, Henry came inside and asked if he could be changed into a daytime diaper. We played ball until lunch and then played indoor games while waiting for our parents to pick us up.

Mrs. Zymmers asked if anyone needed changing and we all said that we did, including Henry. One thirty rolled around, then one forty-five- naturally neither Freddie, Billy, nor I were wearing any pants. Freddie asked the question everyone was dying to ask.

"Um, Henry…," he questioned, "aren’t you going to get out of those diapers before your parents show up? Either that, or we can all put on our Beatles wigs and pretend that we’re having a rehearsal for the Halloween party."

"No, it’s too late for a rehearsal anyway," he answered. Then, as if smiling at an internal joke he had just told himself, he walked over to the small bag that contained the stuff he had brought with him and pulled out his parents’ letter. "You guys can read this," he said handing the letter to Billy.

We gathered round as Billy unfolded it.

I couldn’t contain myself. "Well, what have you decided?"

Pointing down to his diapers with both hands he smirked and said, "Do these look like blue jeans that I’m wearing home?"

We laughed and welcomed Henry into the unofficial diaper and plastic pants club.

"But, what about school?" Freddie wondered.

"Yeah, I know," Henry mused, "all hell will break loose if I show these off in PE class on Monday. Still, if I were you, I’d be ready for all hell to break loose!" he giggled. More seriously, he continued, "If you think that I’ll spoil our chances to win a prize at the Halloween party I won’t wear them to school at all."

"I don’t think anyone cares about the prize. If you want to wear diapers like us, we’re happy to have you in our group," Billy answered for all of us.

The doorbell rang. It was Henry’s mother and father, Mr. & Mrs. Walker. They were a little early and I wondered if they simply couldn’t wait to know what Henry had decided or if Mrs. Zymmers had already alerted them to his choice. In any case, Henry seemed to be momentarily embarrassed as his parents walked in but he relaxed when he saw their smiling faces. They made no comment on his attire.

"Are you ready to go?" his father asked.

"Yeah, sure," Henry answered.

Henry thanked Freddie and his parents for a nice sleepover and Mrs. Zymmers handed him two bags.

"These are you clean diapers and these are your wet diapers," she said to a crimson-faced Henry.

"See you guys in school," Henry called over his shoulder as he left with his parents.

"I wonder if Henry really will wear diapers to school," I mused.

"I’m positive he will," Billy said.

"How do you know that?" Freddie asked before I could.

"Last year, I left my glove on the ground after a game and Henry called me to say that he had it. I went to pick it up and that’s how I found out that the Walkers own an apartment building and that that’s where they live. The tenants, including the Walkers, park their cars in a carport that is kind of far from the building. In addition to that, there is a playground area where the kids gather and there are bound to be a lot of kids playing or hanging there out on a Saturday afternoon. Everyone will see him- Henry and his parents obviously know that. If he’s willing to be seen in his neighborhood, he’ll be willing to wear diapers and plastic pants to school."

"Wow," was all that I could think to say.

At lunch on Monday I finally got the chance to question Henry. Freddie was there also.

"Well," I asked impatiently, "are you?"

"Am I what?" Henry asked back, a broad smile on his lips.

"You know," I whispered, "your diapers."

"Oh, my diapers," he said out loud, "Of course I’m wearing them. Where have been all morning? There practically isn’t a single kid in this school who doesn’t know about my diapers."

"But, how?" I asked densely, "We haven’t had PE yet."

"Because I told them," he said flatly, "Look I don’t want to criticize anyone," he looked at both of us, "but, if you, Freddie, had been more open about wearing diapers Marc wouldn’t have tried to humiliate you publicly by taking away your pants. I just thought that if I were really open about it most people wouldn’t say anything else about it. So far, so good."

Henry was right. Later that day, he got teased during PE (and for a few days that followed) but nothing like what had happened to me. In fact, I thought that maybe some of the guys who defended him would like to have been in diapers also. (In our Junior year, this was proven to be true for two guys I would have least expected it from, but that’s a whole different story.)

Halloween came and went. We won an honorable mention for our "Baby Beatles" costumes. The $50 first prize went to two guys who dressed up in their sisters ballet tutus. I have to admit that with the make up and everything I thought they were just a couple of girls who didn’t have a very original idea. Since so many people had already seen us in diapers around the neighborhood and at school, I suppose it was fair that the other guys won. For sure, I would never have dressed the way they did. It was a good thing for them that they were the school’s best JV basketball players.

It was the day after Thanksgiving when my parents asked me the single most important question I had ever been asked. I had gotten up late and my mother was putting my first diaper of the day on me.

"After you’re dressed, come downstairs. Your father and I want to talk to you."

Seeing the fear on my face, my mother added, "Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble. This is just a little family discussion."

Relieved, I put on my shoes, socks, and shirt. As usual, I went downstairs without pants on.

"It’s been seven months now that you have been wearing diapers as a punishment for what you did to Freddie. Your mother and I are happy that you and he are now getting along so well. However, we feel that your diaper wearing is no longer an appropriate punishment."

I couldn’t believe it. Were my parents about to announce that I would not have to serve out the remaining seventeen months of my punishment? Seven months ago this would have been thrilling news, but not now. How could I tell them that I wanted to continue wearing diapers- forever? My dad was still talking as I tuned back in to him.

"…Billy’s parents are having the same discussion with him about whether or not he wants to stay in them permanently. So, what do you want? But know this first, whatever decision you make, you must hold to for a full year. No matter how you decide, there will expenses involved and we can afford these expenditures only once."

My brain was trying to work furiously. How disappointed would my parents be if I admitted how much I liked my diapers and plastic pants? How much would I miss wearing them if I said I wanted to go back to regular underwear? Would I be allowed to go back and forth between regular underwear and diapers? Would I want to go back and forth from diapers to regular underwear? I was pretty sure that Billy would choose the diapers and plastic pants but what if he didn’t? The minutes stretched out but my parents didn’t rush me. Finally, I was ready.

"I want to keep my diapers for another year," I said decisively.

My dad smiled and said, "I’m not the least bit surprised. OK, you can run along now."

It was cold outside so I ran upstairs to get my pants and a jacket. I needed to go over to Billy’s to find out if had made his decision yet. I knocked on their kitchen door and Tony answered.

"Is Billy here?" I asked.

"Up in his room," he said going back to the breakfast he was making.

It was warm inside so I took off my jacket and pants and hung them on the hooks by the door. I wondered if Tony had been asked the same question as Billy and I. He had gone back to diapers voluntarily four months ago but I wondered if he still wanted them. Since he wasn’t wearing any pants and I could clearly see his wet diaper, I guess it was a pointless question.

I knocked on Billy’s door and he asked me to come in. My heart sank. He was standing there in long pants. He started laughing. I became furious.

"After everything you said about wanting to be in diapers forever, how could you not choose them?" I screeched.

I turned back toward the hallway and was about to leave, humiliated.

"No, no, you don’t understand," Billy was saying.

I heard him unzipping his pants and stepping out of them. I turned around to see him standing in his familiar diapers and plastic pants.

"When I saw you coming up the street in your long pants, I thought that you had decided to go back to regular underwear," he explained.

"You goof," I countered, "it’s cold outside. That’s why I was wearing long pants."

I jumped him and we innocently wrestled on the floor, our plastic pants making their familiar swishing and swooshing sounds as they rubbed against each other.

It was about two weeks before Christmas and Henry and I are were heading to his apartment to study for an algebra test. I had never gone to Henry’s before because he said it was too small an apartment when the four of us studied together, but since there would be just two of us it would be alright. As we were taking off our jackets I asked if his mom would mind if I went around without my pants.

"Of course not, I do it all the time."

Mrs. Walker greeted us and she asked Henry if he needed a change. He nodded and she led him off to his room while I sat at the kitchen table and opened up my algebra book. I wasn’t going to do any work until Henry came back so I looked around the kitchen and the little bit of the living room that I could see. I guessed that his family and mine must have been in the same economic category. Their kitchen had just about the same kind of stuff in it as ours did. Also, what I could see of the living room also appeared to be of the same quality. In time, I heard Henry walking down the hall, his plastic pants echoing loudly in the uncarpeted hallway. Mine did the same thing when they were cold (like when I wore them directly from the basement) and quieted down when my body heat softened them. I wondered why Henry’s were crackling like that. Wasn’t Henry’s room heated?

He came around the corner into the kitchen and I understood why his plastic pants were making a different kind of sound- they were real baby pants. They were a shiny blue color with teddy bears and balloons printed on them, complete with snaps along the sides. Of course, they weren’t baby-sized baby pants, I mean, they were in a size that fit him perfectly. I was perplexed.

"Um,…" Henry began, "I guess I have to explain something to you. I like wearing these when I’m at home. I guess I like the feeling of being a baby again."

I had gotten out of my chair and I was staring at his pants. His baby pants were getting me excited. His mother walked into the kitchen and I was about to sit down when she said, "Marc, your diapers seem to be sagging a lot. Do you need a change?"

It had become common for our moms to change any of us when we visiting each other. I had never visited here before and I was a little reluctant to have her change me, especially in my excited condition. On the other hand, I really did need changing.

"I don’t have any changing supplies with me," I explained.

"Henry has gotten several changes from your supplies. I’m sure I can take care of you, too. Come along."

She grabbed my hand and led me to Henry’s room. Walking down the hall it occurred to me that his mom had done the same thing to Henry- that is, she had led him by the hand as if he were a toddler who might run away from his diaper change. The changing pad was still on the bed. Without letting go of my hand she guided me onto it. Lifting my shirt out of the way she pulled the plastic pants down my legs and off my feet in one smooth motion.

"My, my…, you really are one soaked little boy," she exclaimed.

I smiled back. This was kind of weird, being talked to like I was three years old, but I liked it anyway. After disposing of the wet diaper in Henry’s diaper pail, she cleaned me up and asked me to lift up so that she could slide the dry diaper under me. This was my favorite part- when the fresh diaper was pulled tightly around my groin and pinned on. (To this day, I can’t adequately put into words the feeling I get when someone pins me into a clean diaper.) She was very gentle and she completely ignored my rising excitement. Turning around, she opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of snap-on style baby pants. These were white and imprinted with little kittens chasing brightly colored balls of yarn. They seemed to me to be even more babyish than the ones Henry was wearing. Still, I didn’t protest when she asked me to lift up again so that she could slide the open pants under me. In just a few seconds my pants were all snapped up and Henry’s mom had checked to make sure that there was no stray material escaping from the plastic pants. She sent me back to the kitchen. These pants crackled and snapped every bit as loudly as Henry’s.

"I see my mom gave you the full treatment, too. Sorry," Henry apologized.

"That’s OK," I said. What I didn’t say was how much I was enjoying the experience.

We started working on the algebra. I heard Mrs. Walker wash her hands and then proceed down a flight of stairs. My curiosity was getting to me.

"I thought this was an apartment house." I began, "How come you’ve got a basement."

"We own the building," he reminded me, " our apartment is the only one that gets to use this end of the basement. That’s where my mom has her laundry and where I have my trains set up."

I said that I always liked trains and he said we could go down and look at them after we had finished the algebra review we were doing. (This was probably why Henry did better in school than me- I would have abandoned the algebra and gone down to the trains right away.)

A half-hour later we were finished. I asked if we could take a look at his train set up. We descended to a large basement that had been divided off into four sections. There was a light on in a room to the left where Henry said his mother had her laundry. We were entering a room on the right and I commented on how warm the basement was. He explained that his dad had done all the work himself and that the basement was kept as warm as the rest of the house. When he turned on the light I saw the largest train setup I had ever seen. There were four transformers controlling five separate trains and all kinds of accessories. It was great. We started it up and he began showing me all of its features. Each section of rail was wired so that trains could not collide into each other. There were working accessories of all kinds: an ice house, a cattle corral, a freight station, and more. There were also what seemed to be hundreds of little lights inside buildings and along make-believe streets and roads. Henry told me that the whole thing had taken seven years to build and that he and his dad were always planning expansions.

We were interrupted by Henry’s mother who called to us saying it was time for me to be running along. She also told him to pick up his laundry on the way upstairs.

"I’ll get it later," he answered.

"You’ll get it now," she called from the laundry room.

"Um…," he said nervously, "you already know about the baby pants, you may as well know about the rest."

I was certainly intrigued now.

The laundry room was about as big as the train room. An automatic washing machine, ironing board and iron, and long counter (for folding the dried clothes) ran along one side of the room. The rest of the room was taken up by clotheslines. The usual kind of family laundry was hanging from the lines. The "not-so-usual" laundry hanging there included several additional pairs of snap-sided baby pants, printed pull-on style baby pants (large enough to fit over nighttime diapers), a yellow one-piece footed sleeper with Henry’s name embroidered on it, an assortment of short baby t-shirts, and, most prominently, a red corduroy overall with snaps running up the inside of the legs and into the crotch. All these baby clothes were obviously large enough to fit Henry.

Pointing to the counter, Mrs. Walker said, "Those two piles go to your room."

Henry handed me one pile which contained his "big boy" diapers and plastic pants along with some school clothes. He took up a pile that was mostly baby clothes- a blue pair of snap-waist footed pajamas, some toddler style elastic waist shorts, and a collection of pull-on and snap-on baby print plastic pants. We walked in silence to his room and back to the kitchen where I dressed to go home.

"You won’t tell anyone, will you?" he asked pleadingly.

"Of course not," I assured him.

We looked at each other for a few seconds until he began nodding his head in a sign that he believed that I would keep my promise. I left for home.

I arrived about half an hour later than I should have. Since I hadn’t called to let my parents know that I would be late, I knew I would be in trouble.

"Marc, where have you been?" my dad called from the kitchen. "We’re just about ready to sit down to dinner. We were getting worried; why didn’t you call?"

I knew that I had no reasonable explanation so I just continued taking my jacket and pants off. A half-second after I walked into the kitchen I remembered that I was still wearing Henry’s baby pants. It was too late to retreat as my dad had already seen me.

"New pants?" he asked, his eyebrows raised in twin peaks.

"Uh…, I was at Henry’s studying for an algebra test and I needed to be changed," I said, as if this explained everything.

I tried to avoid answering directly since I had promised Henry that I wouldn’t tell anyone about his baby clothes but my parents kept pressuring me. Finally, I explained how I didn’t have any clean diapers with me and that Mrs. Walker had changed me. I also had to tell how Henry had shown me even more of his baby clothes when we brought laundry up to his room. I told my parents that I had promised that I wouldn’t tell anyone about it and that I felt guilty for telling them. They assured me that they would not tell anyone else.

Later that I night I was watching television when my dad asked if I needed to be changed or if I could wait until it was time for me to be put into my nighttime diapers. I told him that I could wait.

"So, do you like the plastic pants you’re wearing?" he suddenly asked.

"They’re OK, I guess," I obfuscated.

"What does that mean?" he pressed.

"Um…, well, I guess I can kind of understand why Henry likes them. I mean, when Mrs. Walker put them on me, it made me feel babyish and I kind of liked it. When I saw his sleepers and pajamas it reminded me of secure I used to feel as a toddler."

"So, you remember what it was like to be a toddler?"

"Well, no, not exactly," I admitted, "but, well, I don’t know, just looking at his baby clothes made me feel good inside."

No more was said about it, either at home or with Henry.

Christmas had finally arrived. Freddie, Billy, Henry and I had made all kinds of plans for the vacation. The biggest was that the Hastons were going on a three day skiing trip between Christmas and New Years and that Freddie, Henry and I were invited. Even though we were fourteen, going on fifteen, the three of us were looking forward to Christmas just like little kids would.

The weather had turned extremely cold on Christmas morning. My dad and mom woke me up early; they had two packages in their hands.

"Here, open these before we change you," my mom said.

This was something that had never happened before- opening Christmas gifts in bed. The first package was about the size of a shirt box, but fairly heavy. I ripped off the paper and opened the package. Inside were eight pairs of baby print plastic pants big enough to fit over nighttime diapers. The second package was fairly large and I knew that it had to be one of two things. I excitedly opened the sealed box and took out a green snap-waist footed pajama set. There were embroidered building blocks on the front that spelled out ‘Marc!". I loved them. My beaming face must have told my parents everything they wanted to know.

"OK, let’s get you dressed in your new jammies and plastic pants so we can go unwrap the rest of our gifts," my dad said.

My mom went downstairs to put on the coffee. My dad seemed even more gentle with my diaper change that morning. He even tickled me under the arms and got me to beg for him to stop tickling before I peed myself. I picked out a pair of yellow baby pants that had representations of babyish looking airplanes, boats and cars to wear under my new pajamas. After he had snapped the top and bottom together all the way around he asked if I wanted to see how I looked. The baby pants crinkled and crackled loudly as we walked to my parents bedroom but, unlike in the past, this was a comforting sound to me. I looked at myself in the full-length. The sight of my bulging diapers coupled with the noise from my baby pants had made me very hard. I understood fully how Henry felt in his baby clothes. Could I eventually get more, I wondered?

Downstairs my mom had already lit the Christmas tree and the smell of brewing coffee was floating out of the kitchen.

"Do you want juice, Marc?" my mom called.

"Yes, please." I answered. "But, hurry, I want to open gifts." Even to myself, I sounded like an excited three year old.

She came out of the kitchen and commented, "How sweet you look." I blushed but didn’t object. I was having too much fun.

"Here’s your juice," she said, handing me a toddler "sippy" cup. I looked at it, shrugged, and began drinking.

For the next half hour we exchanged gifts, one person at a time opening a gift. As usual, I got many more gifts than my parents did. However, this year, for the first time, I was able to afford something nice for them. I think they were sincerely touched. For my part, I was very excited to get more science equipment to go along with the microscope I had received on my birthday. Additionally, though, I also received a full collection of baby clothes. Overalls, a blanket sleeper, elastic waist toddler shorts, baby shirts, striped toddler shirts, and snap-on baby print plastic pants were among the items I received.

I was only nervous about one thing.

"No one will find out about these clothes, will they?" I asked nervously.

"Not if you don’t want them to," my mom assured me.

It wasn’t until two o’clock that I finally cleaned up and got into my "regular" clothes, except that I chose to wear some of my new snap-on baby pants. I knew that Freddie, Henry and Billy wouldn’t be coming over today because they were with their own families or at relatives’ houses.

The ski trip was starting tomorrow. My mom was busily checking and rechecking my luggage to make sure that I would have everything I needed. "Geez," I thought to myself, "do all women get this excited about such a small thing as packing?" Anyway, I couldn’t wait to leave and I knew that I would have a great time.

The trip took about two and a half hours and we arrived at the resort around eleven thirty in the morning. We checked in and looked forward to a great afternoon of skiing.

"Not so fast." Mrs. Haston said from the door that joined the room Mr. & Mrs. Haston would stay in to the one us four guys would use, "Diaper changes first," she ordered.

We groaned and opened our suitcases to get out fresh diapers and plastic pants. I grabbed a diaper from one side of the suitcase and remove the protective cover of the other side to discover that my mother had only packed baby print plastic pants for day and night use. I was mortified and angry. I wondered if the other guys had any extra "regular" white plastic pants that I could borrow. I was pondering this when I became aware that Billy and Freddie were also uncomfortable about something. Their suitcases only contained baby print pants, too. Henry was standing in the middle of the room laughing.

"If you guys could have seen the looks on your faces when you discovered that you only had baby pants to wear on this trip!" he sputtered through gasps of laughter.

"What’s going on?" Freddie, Billy, and I demanded.

"Simple," Henry said, "just like you set me up to get into diapers by coming up with the ‘Baby Beatles’ Halloween idea, I tempted you into baby and toddler clothes by showing you mine. Now we’re even!"

We wrestled him to the ground and pretended to be angry with him. After a few minutes of this wrestling Mr. Haston asked if we wanted to go skiing or not. We were quickly changed into fresh diapers and rather crackly sounding snap-on baby pants. Luckily, our ski clothes muffled the sound pretty well.

That night, freshly changed and snug in our sleepers, we talked about how we felt about being treated as babies. Henry admitted that he had gone a lot farther than just baby clothes- he also liked pacifiers and baby bottles. Almost as if on cue, Mrs. Haston came in and told us it was time for bed. She asked who wanted a bottle to go to sleep with. That first night only Henry and Billy took her up on the offer. By the end of the trip we were all hooked. (As we were checking out, a bell boy delivered a baby bottle to Mr. Haston saying that the kitchen had forgotten to return it. Then it hit me, the kitchen must have known that they were heating up baby bottles for four teenaged boys.) The skiing was terrific. Each night that we were there a couple of inches of fresh powder fell, just enough to refresh the runs.

Over the next few months, I experimented more and more with the baby side of diaper wearing. Soon I was enjoying being babied by my parents, getting nighttime bottles, sleeping with a pacifier, and being dressed in toddler clothes. While this limited my availability to other friends and activities, Henry, Billy, Freddie, and I were always willing to share the experience with each other.

Looking back on it, I couldn’t have had better high school years. While there were some people who sneered at us because of our diaper wearing (and what would they have said if they had found out about our baby and toddler items?!), the four of us established deep and important friendships with each other.

After college, Freddie followed his dad in the business consultant field and, also like his dad, was very successful at it. He met and fell in love with a charming woman, also from the business field. They have been married almost 27 years. They have three beautiful daughters.

Henry and Billy formed a partnership in a landscape design company. They eventually discovered that they were in love with other. They have been life partners for our twenty years.

For my part, I married Maureen, Freddie’s younger sister, a short time after she graduated from college. We have built a rewarding life together over the last twenty-six years. She is a practicing psychiatrist and I own a computer consulting firm. Our four children range in age from twenty-three to fifteen. Matthew, our youngest, has inherited my fascination with diapers. About two years ago, Maureen (accidentally) found an open package of overnight disposable diapers in his room. Just like Henry’s parents had done so many years ago, we wrote him a letter of support telling him that he did not need to ever hide anything from us. We promised to be there for him no matter what. Since then, he has shared with us his desires honestly and openly. He was introduced to cloth diapers and plastic pants. His favorites are baby print pants and thick nighttime terrycloth diapers, just like me. When he is eighteen Maureen and I will talk to him about my similar passions- that is, if he doesn’t already know about them.