Mrs. Aspic's Magic Plastic Pants (or Diaper Day Care)

	"I think someone needs his didee's changed," and the hand went 
instinctively to the seat of Steven's trousers, feeling for the lumps 
everyone within earshot already knew were there. Plastic crinkled 
lightly as Beth gently kneaded the back of Steven's pants, pushing the 
poop around the back and even deeper into the crotch of his diaper. His 
embarrassment did nothing to stem the flow of warm urine that 
followed...
	Steven's seventh summer had started out simply enough. School was 
about to let out for the summer break, the weather was warming and 
Steven was busily making plans on how to spend all his free time. 
Little did he know how the next few months were going to change things, 
for life.
	As usual, his mother was trying to arrange day care for the hours 
she would be at work now that school was out. In previous years, their 
next door neighbor had taken Steven in, but this summer, the family had 
plans and couldn't take him every day. He was a bit sad, he would miss 
playing each day with Rachel, the little girl next door and his 
classmate. But Rachel's mom had left a referral with Steven's mom to 
one Mrs. Aspic, an older lady who occasionally sat for them on weekends 
and such.
	Steven was a little apprehensive, he wasn't sure staying with 
someone he didn't know was going to be any fun and when he learned he 
might be staying at Mrs. Aspic's house instead of his own, he was 
downright depressed. "Don't worry hon," his mother consoled him, "I'm 
sure there are tons of kids in her neighborhood and you'll get along 
fine. We'll meet her and spend some time with her before we decide 
about it, okay?"
	The Saturday meeting date quickly arrived and Steven was up 
early, feeling nervous, and, as with many kids his age, his bed was 
wet. It wasn't often he wet the bed anymore, but even at twice a week, 
he felt ashamed and little babyish every time he awoke with wet PJs and 
sheets. His mom largely ignored the problem, confident that he would 
someday grow out of it but it still bothered Steven a great deal. 
Steven's mom had given up diapering him at night only last year after 
years of protests from Steven. So, on this warming Saturday morning, 
Steven tried his best to be happy about his upcoming summer despite a 
less than stellar beginning.
	"Hello and welcome," came the matronly voice from the other side 
of the screen. Steven and his mother stood on the porch of 334 Sycamore 
Street precisely at 10 a.m. Mother had made sure Steven was neatly 
dressed in a dressy short set that Steven detested. He'd have much 
preferred plain old jeans and a t-shirt or at least some play shorts. 
He thought this Capri set made him look stupid and babyish but his 
mother wanted him to look sharp for their first meeting with Mrs. 
Aspic.
	"Come in," the door swung wide and Steven got his first look at 
Mrs. Aspic. She was not as old as he had expected nor as ugly has he 
had dreamed she'd be. In fact, Steven was taken aback a little by her 
beauty and her generous smile. Probably ten years or so older than his 
own mother, Mrs. Aspic appeared decades shy of grandmotherdom to 
Steven. She was plainly dressed which only accentuated her natural 
beauty. "Hi, young man, you must be Steven," she said as she extended 
her hand to the boy. Steven shook her hand reluctantly, but noticed 
immediately how gentle and soft her hands seemed. And how tingly the 
modest touch of her hand made him feel.
	The house was modest, much like Steven's own and the many others 
filling the suburban neighborhoods of his childhood. Neat and orderly, 
the living room where they stood now smelled faintly of fresh cookies. 
Steven liked that and it put him a little more at ease. On the porch 
waiting for the minute or so for Mrs. Aspic to answer the door seemed 
like an eternity to Steven. He was nervous, very nervous; so nervous we 
thought he might start crying at any moment. It was small consolation 
when he finally met Mrs. Aspic, that she was someone he hardly 
expected.
	He stood cautiously and nervously as Mrs. Aspic and his mother 
exchanged pleasantries, gauging the room and the house. "Let me show 
you two around," said Mrs. Aspic finally and they strolled through the 
living room and down the hall to the back of the house. Passing Mrs. 
Aspic's bedroom they stopped short and she pointed out a small room 
with a bed and some toys, "This is the rest and playroom," she said 
proudly and the two women began chatting about something that poor 
Steven blanked on immediately. As he stood in the doorway of the room 
and the narrow hall, he looked anxiously across the hall and through 
another door. Through the opening he saw two cribs, a corner of a 
changing table with stacks of diapers and other baby things.
	Steven couldn't look away. As if something had hypnotized him, he 
focused on a very small corner of the changing table where a diaper and 
a typical pair of white plastic baby plastic pants had been stacked 
near one another. Mesmerized, Steven stood and stared. "Oh my god, 
Steven, look at you! What have you done!" Mother's voice cracked the 
spell and he looked into her face and instantly knew he was in trouble. 
But for what? Then he felt the last little trickle of warm potty run 
down his leg and into his socks and shoes. He had wet his pants! 
"What's gotten into you?" mother continued, "I am so sorry. He hasn't 
done that in ages," she said apologetically to Mrs. Aspic. "Really, he 
wets his bed a little but this hasn't happened in years!"
	"Don't worry, it's nothing," Mrs. Aspic immediately reassured, 
"he's probably very nervous. It's not a problem at all." For just a 
moment, Mrs. Aspic caught Steven's eye and, it was hard to tell, but he 
swore that her eyes flashed or sparkled or something and...she grinned. 
Yeah, smiled slyly like she had a secret or that she knew something or 
that she shared something with Steven. Steven was definitely spooked.
	It didn't take much to bring reality back crashing around him 
though. As mother continued to profusely apologize, Mrs. Aspic 
retrieved a few baby wipes from the room across the hall and they all 
retreated to the kitchen where his mother did her best to clean Steven 
up with the wipes. Mrs. Aspic handed a fresh chocolate chip cookie to 
Steven, against mother's wishes, "Don't worry, please, I've seen it 
happen thousands of times. He didn't even get the floor wet," she said. 
Steven sat forlornly at the kitchen table on a plastic covered chair in 
his wet shorts and underwear, eating his cookie as mother and Mrs. 
Aspic went through the details of child care.
	"See you next week then, bright and early Monday morning," said 
Mrs. Aspic as Steven and his mother walked to the car. Once again, as 
her eyes flashed, Steven felt the odd tingling in his gut, sensing he 
saw something in her eyes and her smile again. But caught up in the 
shame and humiliation of his condition, he tried to ignore it.
	"I never, Steven...what got into you?" fumed mother once they 
were in the car headed back home. He could only look at her sheepishly. 
"I hope this isn't a sign of your behavior to come. I'm just happy Mrs. 
Aspic could overlook such a babyish thing and still agree to take you 
this summer." Steven wanted desperately to tell his mother all about 
what he saw in Mrs. Aspic's eyes, to beg that she make other 
arrangements, to explain that he wasn't even aware he was wetting his 
pants, to apologize... anything. But he could only look out the window 
and concentrate ever so hard on not crying.
	Monday morning and Steven was up early, relieved his bed was 
finally dry. He hadn't been so lucky Saturday night. His dreams had 
sent him on a roller coaster ride of psychic pain and pleasure and, 
when Sunday morning arrived, he awoke confused and soaking wet. His 
dreams had been filled with the images of toddlerhood, teddy bears and 
binkies and favorite blankets and cuddly cribs...and the nightmares of 
potty training and the humiliation of diapers. But the most striking 
feature of his dreams was the reoccurrence of Mrs. Aspic's twinkling 
eyes.
	As he dressed himself in the clothes his mother had laid out for 
him, Steven grew more and more apprehensive. It wasn't as if Mrs. Aspic 
was mean or even scary, in fact there was something very reassuring 
about her. But he couldn't shake the feeling he was headed into 
something he couldn't begin to understand... or control.
	Mrs. Aspic's screen door swung shut and Steven watched as his 
mother drove off to work. "Well, young man, what would you like to do 
this morning?" Mrs. Aspic inquired, "help me with my chores or watch 
some television and play while I finish cleaning up?" Her voice was 
only added more hypnotic qualities to Steven's still hypnotic state. 
Everything from the time he set foot in her house seemed like a dream 
to him, something that was happening to someone else while he watched.
	"I'd like to watch TV I guess," he heard himself say.
	"Great, the TV's in the playroom," she said and flashed a smile 
with her eyes.
	As he passed the "nursery," Steven looked away. But sitting 
watching cartoons in the playroom, he couldn't resist looking through 
the door and into the room. Soon, he wasn't even paying any attention 
to the TV, he was craning his neck, to see what he could see. The door, 
slightly ajar, obscured most of the room except for the corner of the 
changing table where Steven's troubles all began on Saturday. He could 
see white cloth diapers, all folded neatly and stacked and just the 
corner of another stack of baby plastic pants, in all different colors. 
The TV soon faded into the background, he couldn't even hear it 
anymore. Time seemed suspended and Steven felt himself get up and walk 
to the edge of the playroom to get a better look at the nursery. Some 
part of him was daring the other part to get closer...closer.
	When Mrs. Aspic's voice broke the spell, Steven found himself 
just inside the nursery, "Did you want to play with something in here?" 
she asked, eyes sparkling brilliantly as they had the Saturday before.
	"Uhhhh..no... I was just.....curious," Steven was confused and 
angry at himself. "Do you take care of babies too?" he asked, trying to 
cover up his obvious interest.
	"Yes I do," she said, "I love babies and toddlers. In fact, 
tomorrow, you'll be meeting little Lisa and Jamie, the two children I 
also care for here during the week. Jamie is five, very close to your 
age, and Lisa is three." There was the sparkle again, right in the 
corner of Mrs. Aspic's eyes, flashing as she talked to Steven. "Well, 
feel free to come and go about the house as you please Stevie" (she 
called him Stevie, something everybody had called him as a baby and 
toddler and a name he hated and always, always associated with being a 
baby).
	The rest of the day passed, much too slowly for Steven. He had 
played some outside in the backyard where Mrs. Aspic had a sand box, a 
climbing device and a very cool club house. He willed himself to stay 
away from the nursery, afraid if he might repeat the accident from 
Saturday. And he decided he loved Mrs. Aspic's chocolate chip 
cookies...they tasted like nothing he had ever tasted before and they 
always felt warm, fresh baked and satisfying, even from the cookie jar 
in the kitchen.
	After lunch, Mrs. Aspic suggested Steven nap, something he hadn't 
been required to do since he was four. He protested vigorously but gave 
in when Mrs. Aspic suggested they call it a rest and said he didn't 
have to sleep he if didn't want to. "Now, your mother mentioned you 
sometimes wet when you sleep, would you feel more comfortable in a 
diaper?" Mrs. Aspic finally asked, the flash in her eyes.
	"No!" said Steven emphatically, the thought of it scared him, 
"no...I don't wear diapers anymore."
	"Okay, I just want to make you comfortable," said Mrs. Aspic. 
"But I am going to ask that you take your shorts off and put them 
here," she motioned to a chair in the playroom, "and you can rest or 
play quietly on this mat for about an hour." Steven did as he was told 
and quietly played until the undeniable urge to sleep swept him 
away....
	When Steven awoke, there was that confused feeling of not knowing 
exactly where he was and then the even worse feeling of wetness all 
around him. Even though it had only been a nap, he had soaked his 
underwear, the pad and even the bottom of his t-shirt. The horror and 
embarrassment of this sent him into a panic, he furtively scanned the 
room for anything that might help him clean this mess up, cover it up 
or just make it go away.
	"Oh, you're awake dear," Mrs. Aspic was standing over him. There 
was no denying the accident now. "Oh, look at you," she continued with 
just a hint of exasperation in her voice. "C'mon, let's get you cleaned 
up." She lead Steven across the hall and into the nursery. Steven 
couldn't say a word as she delicately removed his yellow stained 
underpants and wet t-shirt. "Let's get you some dry things Stevie," 
Mrs. Aspic was reaching into a drawer the contents of which Steven was 
sure were diapers. He couldn't see, it was a top drawer, and he was on 
the brink of crying when, to his great relief, she pulled out a pair of 
underwear.
	But wait...it wasn't underwear at all...it was white all right 
but he could see as she turned that the briefs had a thick cloth panel 
in the crotch. As she came around behind him to slip them on he could 
see faint yellow stains in the crotch. These were training pants! "I'm 
sorry I don't have any big boy plastic pants for you but these should 
do," she said as she slipped them to his knees and turned toward the 
changing table for a baby wipe. Clean, powdered and now in training 
plastic pants, Steven was visibly disturbed. "Don't worry hon," Mrs. 
Aspic reassured, "no one will notice the difference. Come on, let's get 
some cookies."
	Oh...those chocolate chip cookies, Steven could eat dozens of 
them. But after four he was feeling quite content and even relieved 
Mrs. Aspic hadn't forced him into diapers. The training plastic pants 
were okay, he rationalized, as long as he could get his shorts on, no 
one would notice. Oh yeah! His shorts! With crumbs still streaming from 
his mouth he swung on the kitchen chair to ask for his shorts back. But 
he couldn't find the words. He knew what he wanted... but the words 
wouldn't come. He cleared his throat, swallowed hard and tried asking 
again... but nothing. Mrs. Aspic suggested he play out back in the sand 
box and he found himself, much to his chagrin, saying okay and heading 
to the back door.
	Well, it looked like no one could see him and the thoughts of all 
those cool toys just begging to be used wiped the last reservations he 
had about playing outside in just training plastic pants from his mind.
	Hours later he heard mother's car, and he jumped up to greet her. 
He could hear Mrs. Aspic shout hello and through the kitchen window, he 
watched as mother sat down and Mrs. Aspic served her a plate of those 
delicious cookies and a cup of tea, never noticing Steven. Then it hit 
him, he needed to go potty...bad. He had been so busy playing he had 
dismissed the odd signal or two his body was sending him that it was 
time to pee. He tried to move his legs, to stand and head towards the 
house but they felt like a ton of bricks. The urge pressed hard on his 
bladder and Steven knew he'd have to hurry. His legs just wouldn't 
cooperate fast enough. He tried to shout as he struggled up the 
steps...I NEED TO GO POTTY! But, as he opened the screen door to the 
kitchen, it was almost as if the plastic pants he was wearing drew the 
moisture from his body. As he entered the room, a large yellow wet spot 
darkened the soaker panels of his plastic pants and little bits 
dribbled down his legs. He was wetting his pants again.
	He expected mother to be quite upset and Mrs. Aspic to be furious 
after he had wet himself at nap time. But to his complete surprise, 
neither of them barely noticed. Mother chuckled a bit and Mrs. Aspic 
simply rushed him down the hall to the bathroom, pee streaming from his 
plastic pants. In the bathroom, and without a word, she stripped him 
down and sat him on a potty seat atop the toilet where he finished 
peeing. Mrs. Aspic left the bathroom and returned with mother in 
tow...he could hear them in the hall..."you know boys will be boys," he 
heard Mrs. Aspic say.
	"I know," said mother, "he has been just a devil to train." 
Train? Steven, except for an occasional nighttime accident, was 
perfectly potty trained, he thought to himself. He knew how to use the 
potty, this was humiliating and getting scary. Normally mother would be 
furious as she was the day he had wet his pants before.
	They both came into the bathroom and Mrs. Aspic helped Steven off 
the potty, wiped him again with a baby wipe and helped him into another 
pair of training plastic pants, this one with little nursery print 
animals on them.
	On the ride home, mother never even mentioned the accident...she 
could only go on and on about what a find Mrs. Aspic was...and those 
chocolate chip cookies! Didn't Steven think they were delicious?
	Dazed, confused and a little tormented Steven readied himself for 
bed that night, careful not to drink any liquids and resolute in 
staying awake all night if that's what it took to keep his bed dry. The 
next morning, he awoke with the sun, sopping wet, even wetter than 
normal. His jammies were soaked to the neck line and his bed was soaked 
to the mattress. Mother never said a word.
	After breakfast, he returned to his room to find his favorite 
pair of short-alls (they were filled with pockets to keep his stuff in, 
loose and cool) laid out on the bed next to a t-shirt and....another 
pair of training pants! He shot to his dresser and ripped open the 
drawer where his underwear was kept but there was no underwear, only 
training plastic pants and a lone pair of plastic baby plastic pants. 
Resigned, he slipped the little cotton toddler pants on, grateful that 
his short-alls (a short version of coveralls) were plenty baggy enough 
that no one could tell he was wearing the training pants.
	Self conscious and already a bit dazed, Steven once again entered 
the nether world of Mrs. Aspic's home. Sure that everyone could tell he 
was wearing training plastic pants, he was grateful mother seemed to 
ignore the plastic plastic pants in his drawer at home. At the door, 
mother went on and on about how good Mrs. Aspic's cookies were and 
begged for the recipe and even left with a small bag of them on Mrs. 
Aspic's insistence.
	It was a bright sunny day and Steven gobbled a few cookies, some 
milk and made his way to the back yard. It was a warm sunny day and 
Steven set out to make this a better day. After an hour or so-- he was 
busy setting up a fort in the clubhouse--, the back door swung open and 
Mrs. Aspic appeared with two more kids. Steven was introduced to Jamie 
and PJ, "Stevie, this Jamie and this is PJ," Mrs. Aspic said politely 
and they all said "hi."
	"Now I expect you all to play together nicely please," continued 
Mrs. Aspic in a more authoritarian tone, "and behave." Steven 
immediately noticed Jamie's shorts bulged with diapers.
	"How old are you?" asked Jamie, gregariously.
	"I'm six," Steven said proudly, "almost seven."
	"PJ's three and a half and I'm five," said Jamie, holding up five 
fingers, "My birthday is in two weeks and then I'll be six." As he 
lifted his arm to show Steven his fingers, the hem of his t-shirt came 
up, confirming for Steven that he, too, was wearing diapers! The 
plastic plastic pants he was wearing poked modestly over a thick white 
diaper and the waist of his shorts. Steven was aghast. Jamie was almost 
as old as he was. The sight of the Jamie's diapers and plastic plastic 
pants first sent shivers down Steven's spine and then he got a little 
tingly, that feeling that this was all really a dream returned.
	Steven invited them to his fort and they all clamored inside and 
began to play. What seemed like hours passed, Steven was absorbed by 
the sight of Jamie's and PJ's diapers. Every time he moved small 
patches of plastic and white diaper flashed and each time Steven caught 
sight, he felt a tingle and was reminded of his own training plastic 
pants beneath.
	At one point, Jamie briefly stopped, sat down and fidgeted a bit. 
With his legs spread wide, diapers bulging from the crotch, Steven 
could clearly see Jamie wetting his pants. His eyes teared and a large 
yellow wet spot spread through the crotch and seat of his plastic 
plastic pants. Just then the back door swung open and Mrs. Aspic called 
for the children, it was already lunch time. As Steven exited the club 
house he felt an urge to go potty himself and mentally fought hard to 
hold it. He could feel a little wet spot form in the absorbent panels 
of his own plastic pants and no matter how hard he tried to hold it, 
the wet spot kept getting bigger and bigger.
	Headed toward the house, he broke into a run as his potty 
streamed from his plastic pants and ran into his socks and shoes.
	Steven stood in front of Mrs. Aspic startled and out of breath, 
again ashamed at the accident he had just made in his pants. "Seems all 
of you probably need some dry plastic pants," said Mrs. Aspic 
nonchalantly as she ran her finger along the edge of Lisa's diaper and 
patted the back of Jamie's drooping shorts, the now familiar sparkle 
flashing again in her eyes. No one said a word about Steven's accident 
and the children were herded into the nursery.
	Where there were two cribs only yesterday, now there were three, 
Steven noticed as Mrs. Aspic lifted PJ onto the changing table. Three 
cribs...that meant she might be expecting another baby? Does Jamie 
really sleep in a crib? PJ...maybe.....but Jamie? "Is another baby 
coming?" Steven asked haltingly not really wanting to hear an answer.
	"Oh, you might say that," said Mrs. Aspic as she changed Jamie's 
wet diapers. Jamie's baby plastic pants were down around his ankles and 
a fresh diaper was being pulled between his legs and pinned. Steven was 
deathly afraid he was next.
	"Don't worry about it now," said Mrs. Aspic as she unsnapped 
Steven's short-alls, "let's get you some dry plastic pants and let's go 
eat lunch. Steven's wet training plastic pants were replaced with a 
pair of dry ones, but noticeably thicker ones, and they all went to the 
kitchen for lunch.
	After lunch they played in the playroom for awhile until Mrs. 
Aspic announced it was nap time. She herded her charges into the 
nursery, placing Steven in the bathroom on the potty chair and 
proceeded to check Jamie's and PJ's diapers again. Both were dry and, 
leaving only Jamie's t-shirt on, she removed their clothes and lifted 
them each into a crib. Steven half expected to return to the playroom 
like yesterday and rest in there while the others napped in their 
cribs.
	"Okay young man, your turn," Mrs. Aspic said to Steven as she 
lifted him effortlessly off the potty. His chest heaved and Steven felt 
as if he was going to lose the lunch he just finished eating. No 
way...not me...please, I don't want to do this. But his lips never 
moved, he never budged. With the familiar grace, Steven was lifted to 
the changing table and his training plastic pants removed. "We don't 
want an accident like yesterday, do we?" queried Mrs. Aspic kindly. 
Slipping a diaper from the shelf beneath the table, she lifted Steven's 
legs with ease. Steven was sure the diaper would never fit him, he was 
much too big. Mrs. Aspic slipped the diaper under his bottom, "Oh my, 
mmmmm."
	This was it, he wasn't going to have to wear a diaper. "I 
forgot," said Mrs. Aspic, "you're quite a heavy wetter," and she 
grabbed another diaper from beneath and folded it under Steven as a 
doubler. The diaper seemed to expand as Mrs. Aspic pulled it between 
his legs, fitting him perfectly as if it were made for him. By now, he 
was practically crying. But then the diaper was pulled up between his 
legs and he felt the warmth of the cloth and caught the scent of the 
baby powder Mrs. Aspic had liberally applied and taste of chocolate 
chip cookies sat on his tongue and something changed. As the pins 
snapped on either side of his diaper, Steven was caught in the nether 
world again, feeling both terror at having to be back in diapers and 
safe and secure that no matter what happened his bed would be dry.
	A sparkle in her eyes, Mrs. Aspic selected a pair of baby blue 
pastel plastic plastic pants, and slipped them up and over his diapers. 
As she did, Steven felt another tingle...almost as if he had no control 
over his potty at all. From the table, Mrs. Aspic swung Steven to the 
floor and folded the final edges of his diapers under the elastic edges 
of the baby plastic pants. He could see himself in the mirror and felt 
ashamed, standing in nothing more than his diapers, bulging out like a 
toddler, and his t-shirt.
	"Up we go," and Mrs. Aspic swung Steven into the empty crib. 
Steven wanted to yell, stomp his feet, cry out, climb out...but all he 
could do was lie down. Then the final insult, Mrs. Aspic produced three 
baby bottles and handed one to each of her charges. Against everything 
in his being, Steven wanted to fling the bottle but again, he couldn't. 
His hands grasped the bottle and he slowly placed the nipple in his 
lips. There was the taste! Freshly baked chocolate chip cookies flowed 
through his mouth as the warm liquid inside the bottles was sipped out. 
The last thing Steven remembered before falling hard asleep was the 
sudden urge to pee as if the plastic pants were mysteriously drawing it 
out of him. Indeed, a large wet spot formed in Steven's diapers and 
slowly spread through his plastic pants and he drifted off to sleep...
	In that nether-land between sleep and wakefulness, Steven 
slumbered briefly, snug, warm and comfortable. Squeezing his legs 
together he was gently reminded of the diapers between his legs. He was 
barely aware of a warm squish as the bulky cloth redistributed its 
wetness when Steven moved his legs under his blanket. Becoming more 
aware, he was momentarily pleasured by the feeling and noticed the 
plastic plastic pants slipped generously on the sheet underneath. As he 
awoke, he again felt the urgent need to pee followed quickly by a 
slight spasm and a warm wetness spreading again around his loins. 
Alarmed, he stood immediately in the crib and his plastic pants sagged 
noticeably under the weight of the wetness.
	Mrs. Aspic was in the room and greeted Steven with a quiet hello 
and a smile. "I see we're up sleepyhead and it looks like we need a dry 
diaper," she said as she lifted Steven from the crib and on to the 
changing table. "My, my, we're very wet! Maybe you need a thicker 
diaper young man." Indeed, Steven was wet to the pins. Mrs. Aspic made 
some comment about being surprised Steven hadn't leaked.
	When Mrs. Aspic slipped the baby plastic pants down, removed the 
diaper and wiped him clean, Steven expected to have his underwear 
returned and lay shocked when Mrs. Aspic slipped another diaper under 
his bottom together with a thicker doubler and quickly pinned it around 
his waist. He was being put back into diapers! Again, the core of his 
being wanted to yell out in protest, he wanted to fling his body from 
the table and run from the room and never come back! But he could only 
lay there and fret.
	The other two kids stirred while Steven's baby plastic pants were 
being slipped over his diapers and Mrs. Aspic helped him down from the 
table. He stood watching the other two get changed, standing in his 
diapers, plastic plastic pants and t-shirt when he caught a glimpse of 
himself in the mirrored door of the closet. He was fascinated by his 
look. He looked nothing like the 6-year old he knew he was...his crotch 
and bottom bulged hugely with the bulk of the diapers whose outline was 
just visible under the now pastel yellow plastic pants, the little 
elastic edges of the plastic pants straining against the soft cotton 
bulk beneath. He felt greatly shamed by his appearance yet the feeling 
of it made him warm and comfortable and cared for...like the toddler 
whose image appeared in the mirror.
	Hoping against hope that Mrs. Aspic would at least let him have 
his short-alls back so he wouldn't have to spend the rest of the day 
with these diapers showing, Steven was happy when Mrs. Aspic grabbed 
them from the changing table and proceeded to help him on with them. 
Relieved that his diapers and baby plastic pants were at least covered, 
he hardly noticed the changes in the garment he had first put on that 
morning and had shed before his nap. But as Mrs. Aspic helped him on 
with his shoes, he watched as the crotch gapped noticeably as he 
brought his leg up to tie his shoe. There were snaps now on the legs, 
evenly placed all the way around...just like a babies!
	Even more horrifying was the very audible crinkling noise his 
plastic plastic pants made when he walked, which, with such thick 
diapers on, was more like a toddler waddle. They all sat in the kitchen 
and Steven temporarily forgot about his situation when those wonderful 
cookies appeared with a glass of cold milk. After the snack, Mrs. Aspic 
ushered the three into the backyard and told them to go ahead and play 
for awhile. Soon, an afternoon thunderstorm, common to area, began, at 
first with singular large drops, quickly becoming a downpour. All three 
kids ran to the house and resumed play in the playroom.
	Involved with a game with PJ, Steven was only remotely aware of 
his babied state, content to let it pass with time. Suddenly, he felt a 
brief spasm and noticed again he was wetting his pants without control. 
And then...from deep in his tummy...he felt pressure, the kind of 
pressure that would have ordinarily sent him scurrying to the potty 
with due haste. He desperately wanted to run down the hall to the 
bathroom, shed his diapers and complete his business on the toilet. He 
wanted to shout to Mrs. Aspic in the next room that he needed to go. 
But the more he struggled to do these things, the more paralyzed he 
became. The more he struggled to hold on to his poop, the more 
relentless the pressure became until, as if drawn from him against his 
will by the very plastic pants he was wearing, he felt himself 
relax...and then, with no effort at all, he was pushing...pooping his 
pants. A little at first, then as he relaxed in earnest, large wet 
poops pushed out, up his bottom and into his crotch, filling the back 
of his diapers...once, twice, three times he pushed silently until the 
pressure was gone. More wetness flowed forth without a hint of abandon. 
He had pooped his plastic pants....actually messed in his diapers and 
now it was spreading, squishing around his loins and bottom as he 
moved.
	"I think somebody's pooped their plastic pants," Mrs. Aspic said 
as she entered the playroom to check her charges. "Was it you?" she 
asked as she kneaded the back of first Jamie's diapers, then PJ's. Then 
standing with her hands on her hips, she looked right at Steven. "I 
think I found the culprit. Must be you young man, do you have poopy 
plastic pants?" she continued with mock disappointment in her voice.
	"No," said Steven sheepishly, afraid to admit his 
accident..."it's not me," he pleaded as she spun him around and kneaded 
the back of his short-alls. The diapers were a little too thick to make 
certain but with a quick whiff at the seat of his pants, she knew it 
was him.
	As summer drew on Steven grew more and more dependent on diapers 
and plastic plastic pants, wearing them now almost all the time. Even 
out on trips to the beach and park, Steven was diapered like PJ and 
Jamie.
	During one field trip to the local beach, Mrs. Aspic took the two 
older boys' diapers off at the beach (on the tailgate of her station 
wagon in the parking lot) and let them both wear swim suits. Steven was 
greatly relieved, believing all the way there that Mrs. Aspic was going 
to make him wear his diapers and baby plastic pants while they played 
in the sand. As they frolicked the morning away amid a decent summer's 
crowd, no one seemed to notice either boy's numerous peeing accidents 
as they ran from the sand to the water's edge.
	But shortly after lunch, Steven's bowels turned in that now 
familiar pattern as he sat in the sand across from Jamie digging a 
tunnel. His head immediately shot towards the public bathrooms on the 
other side of the snack stand and then quickly over to Mrs. Aspic, 
seated in a beach chair a few away. He wanted to tell her he needed to 
poop but as his eyes met hers, they caught a quick summer ray and 
glinted in that now comforting way, she just smiled approvingly and he 
could say nothing. The magical moment passed, his guts did one more 
turn and he felt himself pushing his poop into his pants once again. 
Then, in brief spasm, his urine began to flow freely on to the sand 
between his legs.
	Mrs. Aspic didn't waste a moment when the pungent aroma greeted 
the air. Ritualistically, she checked young PJ's diaper first, then 
Jamie's trunks. Turning to Steven, she gently pulled him up by his 
arms, spun him around, pulled back the waistband at the back and peered 
down to the mess inside. "We can't let you walk around like this the 
rest of the day," she said with a smile. She turned to a young mom 
seated next to them and asked her if she minded keeping an eye on Jamie 
and PJ while she took Steven to the bathroom. "Looks like you're a 
little late for that," said the young mother with a bit of disgust.
	Both of them made the seemingly endless trek to the public 
washroom where Mrs. Aspic ushered Steven into the women's restroom and 
removed his messy trunks. Poop was piled into the mesh lining and there 
was a deep yellow stain washing over the white fabric. Steven was 
covered in poop from the waist down. Mrs. Aspic rinsed the soiled 
trunks in a nearby toilet and tried in vain to clean him up with the 
cheap little squares of toilet paper common to most public bathrooms.
	After a moment, she looked determinedly at him, grabbed his hand 
and ushered him outside. Steven was mortified. Standing naked in front 
of everyone crowded around the bathrooms and the snack stand, his 
little legs, bottom and crotch smeared with poop, he was placed under 
the shower and rinsed clean.
	None of this seemed to bother Mrs. Aspic one bit, even as Steven 
could see people stop, stare and snicker. A group of girls, a few years 
older than Steven, seemed to be having the most fun with this, gawking 
openly, whispering feverishly among themselves and laughing 
hysterically. With his stained trunks in a plastic bag, Mrs. Aspic 
marched Steven back to their spot on the beach where he hoped against 
hope they'd pack up and simply leave.
	Mrs. Aspic had no such plans. She motioned Steven to a laid out 
towel under the umbrella where he had seen PJ get his diapers changed 
earlier. He was patted with a towel to remove what water hadn't dried 
on the walk back, and, as everyone around them openly stared at this 
six year old boy who moments before had thoroughly pooped his pants, 
Mrs. Aspic grabbed her tote bag and removed what she needed.
	Steven could only lie helplessly on the towel as Mrs. Aspic 
removed two cloth diapers from her bag, lift Steven's legs like an 
infant and slip the two diapers under his bottom. He was powdered, the 
diapers were drawn up between his legs and pinned snugly at his waist 
with two adorable cartoon diaper pins. Then the final insult. Reaching 
into the bag, Mrs. Aspic withdrew a fresh, clean pair of nursery print 
plastic plastic pants, "These will just have to do until we get back to 
the car Stevie," she said sympathetically, "all I brought down with us 
are this pair of PJ's plastic pants." And she slipped them over 
Steven's diapers.
	And so the summer went. Steven grew increasingly more comfortable 
if still a bit self-conscious about wearing diapers and being treated 
like a toddler, a little tortured even, especially when other kids 
would stare at him, but nothing he did or said ever made a bit 
difference.
	At home, diapers and an array of plastic plastic pants had 
replaced his underwear and even the training plastic pants that had 
been in the dresser only weeks before. His mother had said nary a word 
about his infantile behavior and even began to mimic some of Mrs. 
Aspic's habits at home, like bottles at bedtime. Even a trip to nearby 
Disneyland was made with Steven in diapers under a short set that only 
accentuated the fact he was not toilet trained.
	Despite all this, Steven was beginning to get used to it. 
Resigned to the fact that he could no longer hold it at all, he grew 
increasingly grateful that at least the diapers and baby plastic pants 
however visible for their bulk and rustling, kept everything neatly and 
tidily in his pants. He also grew increasingly more and more fond of 
Mrs. Aspic and her nurturing ways. He looked forward to his diaper 
changes, the soft lullabies she sang while she rocked him to sleep 
sometimes in the afternoons and the those wonderful chocolate chip 
cookies.
	Summer passed and Steven eventually went back to school, still in 
diapers and wet every night. Mother and Mrs. Aspic had remained close 
and Mrs. Aspic would occasionally stop by on the weekends with a plate 
of cookies.
	Eventually, as years passed, Steven mastered daytime pottying 
again for the most part but never ever regained nighttime control. Even 
as a teenager, he wet his bed nightly and mother insisted on diapers 
and plastic plastic pants which she helped him with every night.
	For Steven, diapers eventually became a thing of the past. As he 
matured, even his nightly wettings abated with only an occasional 
relapse but the vivid memories remained, hidden well within his mind. 
Every once in awhile, he would think of Mrs. Aspic, kind thoughts 
really, and they always brought about a sense of immediate bathroom 
urgency, much to his chagrin. Catching a rare glimpse of a toddler or 
baby in diapers seem to have much the same effect and he even caught 
himself a few times spotting his underwear as he remembered his own 
baby plastic pants days.
	As a young adult, Steven had met and fallen in love with a 
wonderful girl and soon they were engaged. She seemed to possess all 
the qualities Steven had yearned for in a companion: she was beautiful, 
talented, assured, loving and especially nurturing... something that 
Steven found exceptionally appealing.
	He spent a lot of time with his fianc�e and one day, standing in 
a grocery line, Steven was surprised by a familiar voice behind him, 
"Hi, Steven..."
	The voice, it was so familiar, rushes of emotions shot through 
his body....it couldn't be...she would have to be at 70 years old by 
now...he turned and there, behind him line was Mrs. Aspic, as young, as 
confident, as loving as the day he met her! "Hi...uh, Mrs. 
Aspic...huh....," he stammered.
	"Oh Steven you've grown to be such a lovely boy...how are you?" 
Mrs. Aspic continued.
	"Fine Mrs. Aspic, this is my fianc�e, Beth...Beth this is Mrs. 
Aspic....uuhhhh," Steven was taken aback momentarily, "and old baby-
sitter of mine."
	"I know Beth, Steven, she used to work for me, helping me with my 
charges during the summer," Mrs. Aspic explained. "You might say she 
was a student of mine," and she flashed that soft smile and the glint 
in her eyes was unmistakable.
	The couple exchanged small talk when Mrs. Aspic said to Beth, "I 
used to sit for young Steven way back when, he was just a lad...still a 
babe really."
	Steven was by now bright red, certain Mrs. Aspic was going to 
begin telling stories about changing diapers. "Just here buying some 
ingredients for those chocolate chip cookies you liked so much," she 
continued happily. "So nice to see you Steven, please say you and Beth 
will come visit me sometime, I'm in the same house you know."
	Yes, we will for sure," chimed in Beth, "and I have to get that 
recipe from you!" She turned and shot Steven a sly smile.
	Mrs. Aspic reached out and touched Steven's arm, Steven, unable 
to do a thing, watched helplessly as a dark, wet spot formed in his 
crotch and spread down each leg...

The end.

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Age: <8 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 >18
What diapers do you wear? Cloth Disposable Multiple Underpants I do not wear diapers
Are your diapers plain white? Always Usually Sometimes Rarely Never I do not wear diapers
Do you wear multiple diapers? Always Usually Sometimes Rarely Never I do not wear diapers
Are you pantsless at home while in diapers? Always Usually Sometimes Rarely Never I do not wear diapers
How do you use your diapers? Pee Poop
Who else in your family has read this story? Mother Father Older Brother Younger Brother Older Sister Younger Sister
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