Mikee's Diapees
by Jennifer Mueller

	The CD was blaring a loud tune as I lay on the bed with Roger. He had just 
undid the top of my bathing suit and the garment hadn't even begun to slip down 
when the door opened and mom burst in.
	"Mom, what are you doing here?" She was supposed to be at work.
	"Never mind what I'm doing here. What are you doing here?" It was the kind 
of question I knew I couldn't answer. Mom knew very well what I was doing. I was 
sure.
	She switched off the CD and looked at Roger. "You! Out of here," she said 
with a jerk of her thumb. I never saw Roger move so fast.
	She glared at me, "You know better than that. You're almost 13 years old. 
I signed those papers so you could take those special courses. I checked the 
books they gave you. Don't you know that you can get a disease? Don't you know 
that you could get pregnant? Did you even plan on using a condom?"
	"Well ... mom ... I didn't think ..."
	"That's most of the problem. You don't think. When are you going to grow 
up and show some responsibility?"
	"I don't know, mom. I'm sorry."
	"Sorry isn't enough. You're going to stay right here in your room until I 
sort this out. I came home sick, and now I'm even sicker. I'm going to talk to 
Aunt Sarah about this."
	As long as I can remember, mom consulted Aunt Sarah about my upbringing. 
My other aunts did the same thing about their children. Being the oldest aunt, 
she sort of took over rule of the family when grandma died. I didn't like it 
when mom talked to my aunt. Aunt Sarah was really strict.
	I stayed in my room until a later than usual dinnertime. I heard mom 
talking with my aunt on the phone, but I couldn't make out what she was saying, 
and I was scared to pick up the extension. Mom opened the after dinner 
conversation with, "I talked with Aunt Sarah. She has made me an offer, and I 
think I'll take her up on it. You are going to spend a couple of weeks at her 
house helping her out with her day care center."
	I rolled my eyes. "I don't want to spend two weeks babysitting other 
people's bratty kids," I thought, but I was smart enough to keep my mouth shut. 
With mom, silence is sometimes the most eloquent argument.
	Mom just looked at me and finally said, "You'll leave Friday."
	My aunt picked me up at the bus station, and we had dinner at a family 
style restaurant in town.
	"What did your mom tell you about what you would be doing while you are 
here?"
	"She told me that I'd be helping you with your day care center. How many 
kids will I have to take care of?"
	"One."
	"One?"
	"Yes, one, and he's special."
	"Oh," I thought, "Downs syndrome or something like that."
	"He's 14."
	"What?" I yammered. "What's wrong with him? Why does he need day care?"
	"There's nothing physically wrong with him. He doesn't need day care. I'm 
doing this for a friend of mine. She caught him trying to molest his sister. 
This is his punishment."
	I sat there in silence. What could I say? Boys sometimes do ugly things, 
and this was one of the ugliest.
	"He's really full of himself," she chuckled. "He's extremely arrogant, and 
his attitude towards women and girls is that they exist to please him. We'll 
change that tune pretty soon. Come, let's go."
	We drove out to my aunt's house which is right behind the day care center. 
No commuting for my aunt. As we drove past the center, I noticed the sign 
indicating that it would be closed for two weeks.
	My aunt got me settled in my room, and I caught a glimpse of the spare 
room made up as a nursery. It was different than other nurseries I had seen. The 
crib was oversized, as was the changing table and other baby furniture. My aunt 
hurriedly closed the door saying, "I'll explain all that later."
	I was told to take a shower and go to bed early. My new charge, Michael, 
would be arriving at 8 AM the following morning.
	Auntie got me up about 6:30 and had me help her with breakfast. "From now 
on, this will be your responsibility every morning. Breakfast will be ready by 
7:00. I will make out the menu the night before. It will be up to you to plan 
how to get it all done by then. You will also be responsible for cleaning up 
afterwards."
	"Yes, Aunt Sarah," I said meekly.
	"Now get dressed and meet me downstairs."
	I don't know why I packed what I did. I really didn't expect to be 
partying it up at my aunt's house, but I packed my sexiest clothes anyway. I 
wasn't expecting to be meeting any boys, but since I was, I put on a sleeveless 
blouse, the shortest skirt I owned and a pair of high heeled sandals. I was 
pushing it. I know what my mom would have said of this outfit, but maybe I could 
get away with a little bit more with my aunt.
	Apparently it worked, instead of telling me to change my outfit, auntie 
directed me to get her a cup of coffee and sit with her so she could talk to me. 
"This whole thing is about responsibility, Stephanie. You are going to have the 
most responsible job in the world; you'll be the single mother of a 14-year-old 
baby. Your mom has been a single mother since you were about 4. Now you'll get 
an idea of what she had to go through."
	We had just finished cleaning up breakfast when the buzzer at the gate 
went off. My aunt got on the intercom and confirmed that it was the people who 
were bringing Michael and buzzed them in.
	A van pulled up and a teen boy in a running suit got out escorted by two 
men. The first thing I noticed was that the boy was wearing handcuffs! What kind 
of dangerous criminal was my aunt bringing into her house?
	My aunt sensed my apprehension and said, "Relax, Michael is not a violent 
type even if he's arrogant. He's lippy, but it's mostly all show. I've dealt 
with his kind before. Besides, we'll have him completely under our control by 
the end of the day."
	I wish I had her confidence.
	"Bring him upstairs," she said opening the door. "Follow me."
	My aunt led the way as Michael climbed the stairs followed by the two men, 
and me bringing up the rear.
	"Over here," I could hear my aunt say from the mysterious room. When I got 
there, they were already putting Michael on the table. It was then I noticed 
that this was no ordinary changing table aside from its bigger proportions. 
There were leather cuffs at the side, and they were already strapping Michael's 
arms into them.
	I don't know whether Michael was drugged or not, but he didn't seem to be 
resisting the men. Perhaps he had tried earlier and realized how futile that 
was.
	The next unusual thing that the table had were the stirrups that 
telescoped up from the foot. These were extended and clipped into place. The men 
soon had his feet attached to the stirrups.
	"Are you sure you don't need our help anymore?" They asked.
	"No, I can handle it from here. He won't be going anywhere."
	The men nodded to my aunt and left.
	The two of us stood there looking at Michael. Through this whole ordeal, 
Michael kept his head turned towards the wall and didn't say anything.
	"Get me those scissors," my aunt directed. After handing them to her, she 
started cutting up the leg of his running pants.
	That woke Michael up! "What are you doing, you crazy bitch?" he yelled.
	That outburst earned him a slap across the face. "Watch your mouth around 
women, and your superiors," she yelled back.
	"Who's going to fucking make me?"
	"Stephanie, it's your turn to shut him up." I looked at my aunt 
dumbfounded.
	"I said, 'make him shut up.' I just showed you how to do it."
	I never face slapped a boy before, but I suppose that there is a first 
time for everything for a girl. I gave him a swat that could only be classified 
as a "love tap."
	"Watch it, you cunt," he swore at me.
	My second slap was much more solid and on the magnitude of my aunt's. 
"Atta girl," she said encouraging me.
	Somehow working with my aunt on Michael bonded us closer together. I 
forgot that I was here for punishment. "What are you doing," I asked her.
	"I'm cutting off his pants so we can get him into diapers."
	"Diapers?" I asked.
	"Yes, boys can turn out to be decent people, if they are raised properly. 
Mikee here was obviously not taught how to behave properly, so we are going to 
bring him back to the point where he can be properly trained. To do this we have 
to untrain some things, including his potty training."
	All the while she continued to slice the pants off his leg. She kept going 
until reached the waistband. She chewed at it with the scissors for a while and 
it gave way. Then she cut across his waist and down the other leg. It was sort 
of like peeling a banana.
	Throughout it all, Michael sobbed quietly. The running suit just lay on 
his lower body, no longer really surrounding it, protecting it. All one had to 
do was lift the front piece off. And one, my aunt, did exactly that. She grabbed 
the front, Michael said, "no!" she said, "yes" and before I knew what had 
happened, he was naked before us.
	Naked! It never occurred to me that he would not be wearing underwear. I 
didn't know what to expect. I had seen my other aunts change my boy cousins, but 
they ... well they just didn't look like this.
	"Do me a favor," my aunt asked, although the way she asked was more like 
an order than a request, "watch Mikee here while I get my kit."
	I had no idea what her "kit" was, and "Mikee" (as I supposed I was to call 
him) wasn't going anywhere. I took time to take in his body. It was masculine 
enough besides the penis. Mikee obviously worked out or played some kind of 
sport.
	My aunt bustled back in with a shaving mug and a razor.
	Mikee's eyes went wide. "What are you doing!" he said in a panicked voice.
	"I think you can figure it out. Now hold still. I don't want to nick you. 
No, it won't do any permanent harm, but believe me, cuts in this area hurt a 
lot."
	"Why are you shaving him, Aunt Sarah?"
	"For two reasons. The first is part of that untraining I was talking 
about. We are going to make a little boy out of Mikee again. Little boys don't 
have hair down there. The second part is for your benefit dear. It's easier to 
clean up a boy if he doesn't have hair there."
	"Clean up?" I mused.
	My aunt caught my expression immediately. "Yes, clean up, as in changing 
his messy diaper."
	This part still had me confused. "How are we going to keep the diaper on 
him, and how are we going to make sure he messes them? We're not going to keep 
him tied to the table the whole time he is here. Are we?"
	"No, but he is not going to go anywhere while he is wearing his diapees."
	"Won't he just take them off and run away?"
	"Not the way I put diapers on. They are going on, and they are staying on.
	She had his penis and testicles nearly clean by now. He now looked a lot 
more like my baby boy cousins.
	"Now come here and watch this," my aunt ordered. "You're going to have to 
do this from now on."
	At first she took out a large disposable diaper, It was big and white and 
bulky had a powdery smell to it. She slipped it under his butt, and brought up 
the sides and "tabbed" them into place.
	"So what," I thought. "How is she going to keep him from taking them off, 
at least to go to the bathroom even if lack of clothes keeps him in the house?"
	It was the second diaper that made the difference. This one was made of 
heavy cotton; I think they call it sailcloth. Aunt Sarah wrapped it over the 
other diaper, completely covering it even though it filled out the sailcloth. 
The sailcloth was the brightest white I had seen in a while, and it with the 
extra plump diaper underneath it, reminded me of a ship with billowing white 
sails.
	"So he just undoes the pins and he's out," I thought. Wrong again.
	"The secret of diapering," my aunt said, "is keeping boys in their 
diapers. I have a trick to make that happen."
	Then I found that what I had originally took for safety pins were 
something altogether different. They were what my aunt called, "box car seals." 
They looked like a "U" shaped piece of wire, and after routing them through the 
sailcloth, Aunt Sarah put a lead "cap" on them. This she crimped closed with a 
pair of pliers.
	After applying several box car seals to each side of the diaper, my aunt 
stepped back to admire her handiwork. "There," she said with great satisfaction, 
"that should hold him!" I'll say! There was no way he was going to slip out of 
the diapers. As bulky as they were, they fit him snugly around the waist and 
legs. The only way to undo the pins was with wire cutters, and my aunt kept them 
locked up.
	I supposed that he could break the seal if he bent the wire part back and 
forth a lot. The only thing was that the wire was surrounded by the thick 
sailcloth, so he couldn't grab enough of it to bend. Even if Mikee were able to 
bend the box car seals and break them, it would take him all day. There were 
simply too many of them. Auntie had locked him in his diapers as much as if she 
had put a huge padlock on it. It was as if she put a straight jacket around his 
mid-section.
	"I think we can let him up now." my aunt said.
	I hesitantly undid the restraints on his feet. Surprisingly he pulled them 
up into his stomach. I undid the hand bindings and he rolled over on his side 
and curled up into a ball.
	My aunt told me how to soothe him. I took his head and stroked it while 
making "clucking sounds" and saying "There, there, Mikee. Mommy will take care 
of you. Don't worry about anything."
	Mikee was completely withdrawn. "That's it? That's all there is to 
breaking a boy?" I asked.
	"Oh no," my aunt re-assured me, "There is more to it than this. Right now, 
he's in shock. He'll get over it, and we'll have to get stricter."
	"I did say he was in shock. So let's treat him for shock." She swung the 
railing to the oversized crib out of the way and I encouraged Mikee over to the 
bed. He seemed very docile at the moment and accepted my guidance without 
question.
	Auntie swung the gate closed and locked it. The oversized crib was as 
effective a prison cell as a real one. Mikee was not going anywhere.
	"Plenty of liquids, that's the key to treating shock." She offered him 
fruit juice in a baby bottle. Mikee took the bottle and threw it into the corner 
of the crib in a sulking gesture.
	"Suit yourself," my aunt said in response.
	"Come on," she said, beckoning to me, "You have some housework to do." I 
followed her into another room. She switched on the computer. There in all his 
glory on the screen was Mikee. Apparently she had a webcam in the room. My God, 
she could be sending this all over the world! I didn't want to know, so I didn't 
ask.
	We watched Mikee for a while as he gradually recovered. At first he tried 
to undo the pins, but after several minutes, he gave up and just sat down, 
defeated. That's when my aunt turned to me and said, "I wasn't kidding, you do 
have housework to get done."
	We revisited Mikee several hours later when he started yelling about 
wanting to be let out and go to the bathroom.
	Auntie laughed at him. "Little boys do it in their diapees. Bathrooms are 
for girls, diapers are for boys."
	I noticed that the bottle was empty.
	He complained for a while, but we just left, telling him we'd be back in 
about an hour.
	In about an hour we did return. I knew he had a wet diaper. I could smell 
it.
	Auntie teased him, "Did little diapee boy make pee-pee in his diapees?"
	She gave me a shot in the ribs with her elbow and I caught on immediately, 
"Does Mikee want mommy to change him?" Not to convincing, but heck, I'm only 12. 
I will get it eventually.
	Mikee just sulked and sat in the corner of his crib.
	"Well, I guess he's not ready to be changed just yet. We'll come back 
later," my aunt announced.
	About an hour later we did hear him crying. Entering the room, I could 
tell that he had a bowel movement. "Are we ready for our diapee change Mikee."
	My aunt got out the handcuffs again. She made Mikee put has hands out so 
she could put them on before opening the bars to his crib. "Safety first, she 
told me. Always make sure you have him under control before bringing him out in 
the open. After a while when we have him properly trained, we won't have to use 
restraints. He will obey us willingly."
	We led our manacled charge to the changing table. Once again we put him in 
arm and leg restraints. Aunt Sarah got out her wire cutters and cut off the 
heads of the box car seals. I was able to pull the pins out.
	The sailcloth did a good job containing his mess, but it was everywhere 
inside the diaper. I could hardly recognize him as a boy down there.
	"Phew," my aunt exclaimed, "let's get this mess cleaned up."
	It took a lot of cleaning up indeed. A boy-sized baby makes boy- sized 
poops. The sheer volume was enough to make me want to use a garden spade to dig 
it all out. Eventually I did get him all cleaned up. As my aunt carefully 
explained, I was still being punished, and I was going to do all the work.
	She made me put ointment all over his bottom and everywhere else the 
diaper touched. Long before I even got to the front, Mikee had an erection. I 
couldn't blame him. There was nowhere for him to hide. He was open to the world, 
and there was nothing he could do about it.
	I got him buttoned up again, and discovered how difficult it was to push 
those box car seals through the sailcloth. My aunt was adamant that I use 
several on each side, and made sure that I had the diaper tight around the waist 
and legs. She explained that this was important to keep his "accidents" from 
leaking out, and also so he couldn't wiggle out of the diapers.
	As we were moving him from the table, he began complaining again. Auntie 
said, "Let me show you another discipline trick I learned. She fastened a bootie 
on each of his hands and tied it tightly.
	"Can't he just undo the knots with his teeth?" I asked.
	"Not with this in his mouth." she said producing a pacifier. She shoved it 
in unceremoniously and Mikee was too dumbfounded to resist. She tied it around 
his head so he couldn't spit it out. "Can we breathe OK," she asked. Mikee 
nodded, "yes."
	I saw how clever my aunt had been. The pacifier kept him from using his 
teeth to undo the knots on the booties, and the booties kept him from using his 
hands to undo the knot holding the pacifier in place. It sent a chill down my 
spine once I realized that I was also being punished. I wonder what she could 
think up to do to me. I didn't want to find out. I decided that I wouldn't cross 
her, and I would just serve out my two-week sentence without making any waves.
	Mikee spent another hour or so locked up in his crib while I made lunch 
for my aunt and me. I was famished, but I was told that we couldn't eat until 
Mikee was fed. I was sent upstairs to retrieve him. With booties and pacifier 
still in place, I led him back downstairs.
	My aunt taught me how to use the attachment that converted the captain's 
chair into a "high chair." It wasn't exactly high. If we made the chair in 
proportion to Mikee's body it would have been 8 feet in the air. Instead it was 
a normal chair with a tray in front of it.
	I undid the pacifier, but was told to leave his booties on. The pacifier 
had made him drool and I had to wipe his face before I could start feeding him. 
His meals were not at all non- nutritious, however, they were extremely bland. 
Nothing had any taste to it at all, and it was all creamed, strained, or 
otherwise pulverized into a paste.
	Part of my punishment, and part of his, I am sure was to have me use a 
real baby spoon on him. This meant that I had to do a lot of shoveling to get 
the boy-sized portions to his mouth. I was required to stop and let him digest 
his food about a 1/3 and 2/3 through the meal. At least I didn't have to burp 
him. He was able to do that very well on his own.
	As careful as I was, and as cooperative as he was, we still managed to 
combine to make a mess. It was obvious that I would have to clean him up after 
every meal.
	I did manage to get him cleaned up, and back into his crib, and out of the 
booties. He was allowed to not wear the booties if he agreed to keep the 
pacifier in his mouth. He accepted the lesser of the two evils.
	The constant bottle had its toll on his body. Since he wasn't really 
exercising that much, he wasn't using that much water, so he was passing most of 
it. The soft food also assured that he had at least two soft bowel movements a 
day.
	I swear that he had it our for me, and the only way he could get back at 
me was to let loose at the most inappropriate times. I would have to stop what I 
was doing and change him. He didn't care if it was 2 o'clock in the morning. He 
got to sleep most of the day. He was miserable, and he was using his only 
weapon, his pee and poop, to get back at me.
	That was the hate part of the relationship. There was also a love part as 
well. He was dependent on me and that did make him warm up to me. I enjoyed 
having him depending on me even if his dependence was manifested in bodily 
wastes.
	As the days went on, he became less complaining and more docile. I became 
less complaining and more docile, too. Both of us were settling into the 
routine, and taking it as sort of a game. Indeed I would kid with him, tickling 
him, playing peek-a-boo and other child-like games. Let's face it, he was not 
getting much mental stimulation, and I was basically his only human contact. 
Auntie held her distance; always there to give advice and to make sure things 
were going OK, but after the first two days, she never touched Mikee.
	Finally the two weeks were up. I was tired from the cleaning and the 
cooking and the baby tending, but I also felt a special bond with Mikee. We've 
been through something together.
	My aunt offered to let us celebrate. She knew that neither of us would 
misbehave being so near the end of the program. She promised to take us out to 
eat, and then let us play at a video arcade.
	For the first time in weeks, Mikee had clothing other than a night shirt 
and diapers on. Oh yes, he still wore his diapers, because he had lost some of 
his ability to control his bowels and had some genuine accidents. Auntie put him 
in a tee shirt and shorts; both deliberately a little too small it seems. He was 
constantly adjusting them so his diapers wouldn't show.
	For the first time in a couple of weeks I felt like getting dressed up 
myself, and put on a tight top, and the short shorts that look like they were 
painted on my body. I felt very sexy and powerful. I had pulled it off. I had 
grown up, and I had trained a boy. I felt confident about myself. I didn't have 
to "prove" myself to any boy, even Roger. If I decided I wanted to fool around 
with a boy, it's because it's my decision.
	I came to my aunt's house a girl and left as a woman.
	We got to the burger place and ordered the children's meal for Mikee. I 
felt tempted to mash up the french fries and break up his food into tiny pieces. 
It felt odd sitting there watching him feed himself.
	I learned the telltale signs and knew when he peed his diaper or had a 
bowel movement. We were not going to change him while we were out, though. Not 
that he worried too much about it. He was just glad to have his freedom.
	He got very excited when we got to the video parlor and totally forgot 
about his wet and messy diapers. It was dark inside, so nobody could see the 
little bit that leaked out and stained his shorts. They could see how bulky the 
shorts were, but let them guess.
	Well, they didn't have to guess for long. I was busy with a game when I 
gradually became aware of people gathering and snickering at something. By the 
time I finished playing, there was a small crowd looking at a scene in the 
corner of the room. There was Mikee playing a game and going at it with 
everything he had. Unfortunately, he didn't notice that his shorts had dropped a 
little and his shirt had ridden way up.
	That wouldn't be so bad in the darkened room except for the black light. 
His sailcloth diapers were literally florescent! He didn't know he was wearing 
glow in the dark diapers! A girl started giggling. Her friend started to laugh 
and the crowd couldn't contain it anymore. They all broke out in laugher. The 
noise was loud enough to distract Mikee and it took him nearly a half minute to 
figure out what they were laughing at.
	He got up and ran through the crowd, and out the door. I followed 
immediately. I was glad I chose to wear my sneakers instead of my sandals, I was 
hard pressed just to keep him in sight. I caught up with him on the beach. He 
was sitting in the sand sobbing. I held him in my arms and rocked and cuddled 
him, "There, there, Mikee. Don't cry. Mommy's here. She won't let the mean 
people hurt you." He laid his head on my chest and let his whimpers die into a 
gentle cooing.
	For both of us, it came so naturally.