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.