This is the continued story of Simon’s Journal.
Before you begin this third volume in this series,

I would highly recommend that you read the first and second volumes

as each picks up were the previous left off.

 

Simon’s Journal - Volume I 
Thirteen Days – The First Crusade

 

Simon’s Journal - Volume II

Thirteen Nights – After the Crusade

 

ADMONITION:

The following narrative is nearly a complete work of fiction. Some events and characters were pulled from real life but have been changed, enhanced and twisted to comply with my will. Any other similarity to actual individuals living or dead is completely unintentional, but it would be incredible!


WARNING:

The following story contains diaper use, violence, adult language and strong sexual content. If reading a coming of age story about boys wearing diapers and exploring their awakening sexuality doesn’t tickle your pickle, or if pickle tickling is illegal in your area, then I suggest you select something else to read.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Simon's Journal

Volume III

 

Thirteen Sails
Adventures Abound

 

Written by Danny

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter - 26

Fallout

 

I woke up to find Lowell and Peter standing over me looking wholly bothered. Each was holding one of my legs up in the air like goal posts and neither gave the impression that they had noticed that I had regained consciousness. They both appeared to be experiencing some measure of discomfort; however, too late I understood they were merely experiencing sympathetic pains for yours truly.

I felt quite a lot of pressure at my rectums opening and felt a U.R.O. slip into me. If you don’t know what a U.R.O. is, don’t feel bad, because I just made it up. A U.R.O. is an Unidentified Rectal Object. The instant I felt the U.R.O. enter me I began to think that Runt was at it again and began to fight but I couldn’t because my arms didn’t seem to be working. I rolled my head left and saw that Timmy and then rolled my head right to see that Timmy and Jonathan were playing a game of tug-a-war with my arms.

“Let go!” I ordered but they acted as if I was speaking Klingon or something.

I looked into Timmy’s eyes, “What are you doing? Stop! Let go of me!”

I felt a sharp pain, I mean SHARP and I opened my mouth to scream but nothing came out because someone had clamped his or her hand over it. I found out later that it had been Cho.

Sister Sarafina stood up and that’s when I realized she was there too and I knew that if she was there then there was no way Runt was there doing what I first thought was happening to me again. She handed this big red balloon thing to a ten foot tall Tyler who must have been standing on something to be so tall. He strained to hold the red balloon way up over his head while Sister Sarafina bent back over and began pinning a thick diaper onto me. While she worked my stomach started to feel full like after a Thanksgiving dinner; and by the time she finished diapering me the full feeling had steadily grown until I felt like I had one of those baby aliens from the movie Alien inside of my stomach trying to get out through my belly button.

When she had finished diapering me I looked back up at Tyler who was still holding the red balloon only it appeared to have shrunk quite a lot. I also noticed for the first time that it had an especially fat red string tied to the end of it. Oddly, Tyler wasn’t holding the balloon by the string but by the top of the balloon.

Given that I couldn’t move, I had no choice but to lie there with my feet held in the air and watching as the balloon shrank smaller and smaller until it was flat as a pancake. It was actually kind of a remarkable thing to observe.

Once deflated, the Sister took the balloon away from Tyler and he began to act as though he was relieved to be ride of the odd balloon. Right after she took the balloon from him, she bent down between my legs I heard a peculiar sound; like someone had just popped a cork out of my butt. I imagine that had the guys not had such a tight grip on me, I probably would have shot around the room the way a balloon does if you forget to tie a knot in the end. The feeling was both excruciating and spectacular at the same time and lasted for what seemed just short of an eon.

 

I must have went back to sleep after that because I don’t remember anything until I woke up again and no one was around; or at least that was the first impression that I got. But boy was I feeling bad! I felt like I’d just spent twenty minutes in the ring with the wrestler ‘The Undertaker’... and I lost!

I only had a few moments to wonder where I was and to remember what Runt had done to me. Over and over again I kept seeing his face close to mine, and the way the dim light highlighted the stubble on the top of his head. The mentally recorded images of him repulse me more then what I can put into words here. That was when I made a promise to myself that I would never be anything like him and ever since then I have never allowed anyone to cut my hair.

When Sister Sarafina appeared with a cool washcloth I felt relieved that I wasn’t alone. She began to dab softly at my forehead and saw that my eyes were open. “Welcome back to dee living my boy.” She said with a caring smile. When she spoke, her Jamaican accent sounded like an angel was speaking to me, and it made me feel better somehow.

She rewet the cloth and dab at the side of my face and for the first time I realized that I must be injured pretty badly because each time she dabbed at my face with the cloth it felt like she was jabbing me with a red hot poker.

When the bulk of the pain subsided I was able to find my voice. “W-where am I?” I asked and I didn’t recognize my own voice. It sounded feeble and nasally.

To my surprise Mickey, who I couldn’t see, answered. “Found ya like that lie’n in chere with that devil-cat lie’n on’ya.” He explained.

He stepped to where I could see him and held out his left arm. Pulling the sleeve of his jacket up with his right hand I saw that his hand and forearm had been badly scratched.

Dat cat wouldn’t let eny’a us get n’r ya!” He continued to say, “So’z we fig’red we had ta trust da Sis’er chere and tell ‘er about dis place. ‘Cause she’s da only one dat rat eat’n monst’a likes.”

“Vera likes Sister Sarafina?” I thought to myself. Well it seems there are two people in this world that she’s taken a liking too; her master, Mr. Peterson and now sister Sarafina.

When I realized that Micky and the Sister were looking at me longingly I spoke up, “Found m-me like what?” and before they could answer I said, “Wait!” I began to realize where I was at, “Am in our secret place?” I asked looking around with my eyes only and not understanding how I could have got there. I knew there was no way Vera could have dragged me out of Runt’s cabin room and that is for sure. Of course at the time I didn’t know that my brother Jamie had been hiding aboard the Banachelli all that time. Later he would confess that he had found me lying on the floor inside Runts room and brought me into the secret room.

Now I’m sure you are wondering how Jamie knew about the secret room! Well I was too, so a day or two after he had rescued Lowell from a watery grave I got the chance to ask him. He told me that one night he had snuck into our room after we were supposed to be asleep. He hadn’t seen me for a few days and wanted to make sure I was ok but instead of finding us all sound asleep he happened to see us crawling into the secret passage under the bunk. He later came back when no one was around and found our secret room. When Mickey found out that Jamie had been in the secret room he had said, “Boy! I thought t’were dat cat wot’s always sneaking af’er Simon.” Which I wouldn’t have put passed Vera. I mean a cat that old and that mean probably knows how to find food no matter what kind it might be.

It was a real mystery to everyone at the time how I managed to get into the secret room all by my self considering how terribly messed up I was but everyone was more concerned with my wellbeing then that little mystery.

Sister Sarafina shushed us all. “You be still now child.” She placed a finger over my lips to keep me from talking anymore. “Let Sister Sarafina fix you up good as new.” She told me and so I closed my eyes to rest them for just a minute but that minute lasted several days.

When Sister Sarafina finally allowed the guys to come visit again I started to get some more answers. They told me that someone had beaten me badly; of course I knew who that someone was but I wasn’t telling... at least not right away.

How they even knew to go looking for me in the first place was just dumb luck because Timmy and Lowell had happened to run into Mickey. They told him that I had never showed up to help make dinner and well, then Mickey told the rest of our bunk mates and a couple others that he knew could be trust. Like a good War General, Mickey ordered his men to search every room, every corridor, every nook and every cranny until they found me. He also told them to not let anyone else know that they were looking for me... just in case.

“You best know now,” Mickey said and held a small broken mirror overtop of me.

When I seen my face and how swollen it was and the gash that ran all the way down the side of my face I began to cry. But my tears didn’t last very long; they quickly morphed into anger, then rage, then burning hatred.

“We think t’was...” Timmy started to say but Micky broke in with, “Dat Runt fella!” and there was great distaste in his words... more then what I thought there should have been. I looked in Micky’s eyes and I instantly knew that what Runt had done to me—I mean the sex part, not the beating part—he’d done to Micky too and God knows who else.

Jonathan jumped in with a jovial, “Ya should see ‘is face!”

Spec’t that cat got hold o ‘em!” Micky said with a devious grin.

“Looks like ya gave ‘em a blackeye!” Peter said with a twinkle in his eye.

I didn’t acknowledge or shoot down their theories about Runt but I took a bit of pleasure in knowing that Vera had done some damage when she was attacking him. I just wish she had got there sooner and then I realized that had I not got the door open when I did, Vera never would have been able to help me. Who knows what else Runt might have done to me then; he probably would have strangled or beat me to death.

Mickey had taken to leaning over me when he talked so I pushed him away and asked, “Where’s Lowell?”

The guys got quiet so I tried to lift my head up but it hurt too much.

“Don’t move!” the Sister said pushing me back down, “I gave you some special medicines to make you better but it will also make you very, very dizzy if you get up. So stay still or I’ll give you some of me good stuff and you will sleep for a week!”

“And more vitamins too!” someone else added and the comment went completely unnoticed by me until much later when I would learn that the liquid vitamins we were being given everyday were not vitamins at all. It was a drug that originally was developed for young children that suffer from Precocious Puberty and helps them to grow at a more normal rate. However, in the quantities that we were receiving it was doing great harm to our bodies ‘causing among other things, severely stunted growth and development, as well as kidney problems that resulted in complete incontinence. But then again, none of us knew any of that at the time, we had been sold on the idea that we were being given vitamins and vitamins are good for you... right?

 

“Where is Lowell?!” I asked again with enough force to cause my head to pulsate.

Mickey sighed hard, “He got sent to work with the puters?”

Puters?” I asked unsure if he was talking about golf or something else.

“Yeah sorry,” he tried to talk without his strong southern accent, “Com-pu-ters” he said breaking the word apart.

Obviously I’d been out of it long enough to fall behind in the doings of things aboard the Banachelli so the guys filled me in. Apparently what had been in all those big boxes and crates were computers—and lots of them too. And now any kid that knew anything about computers had been put to work. When I asked what they were doing on the computers I was told that they were making tons and tons of copies of movies and music CD’s.

She ev’n shut down da plastic factory!” Peter added.

“Yeah an’ bunches a’ us had t’bring the boxes of CD cases all the way here in the middle of the night and they were dang heavy!”

And all the pieces began to come together for me. The CD and DVD cases are what we had been helping to make in the plastic factory. And I was sure that Madam-M, or Miss-M as I was getting use to calling her before Runt attacked me, was now trying to make the Banachelli her base of operations. I mean, since I had forced her to evacuate the cave under the barn back in Ohio, she of course needed a new HQ. None of us could have guessed that there was more, much more that we didn’t know!

 

It took me a while before I was healthy enough to get up. During that time all of the guys managed to cover for me so that Madam-M never suspected I was missing. I also used that time to make plans, send the guys out on information gathering missions and hopefully find out what each of us was brought here in the first place. Something inside of me was making me think that we weren’t randomly selected but until I had more information I couldn’t be sure what that reason might be.

Of course the day finally came when I was well enough to venture from the secret room however, as luck would have it, while I was walking toward the kitchen Miss-M came out of the door to the room that had formerly been Mr. Wriggle’s office. When she saw the enormous scar on my face her entire head turned purple just like in the cartoons. She started to reach out to touch my face but out of instinct I shied away from her hand.

I’d never seen someone grind their teeth and frown at the same time. “Who did that to you?” she said trying to keep her mounting rage in check. When she spoke she reminded me of a bear standing on his back legs about to attach.

“I-I d-don’t know,” I lied.

Saliva foamed at the corners of her mouth. It was the fourth time I had seen her that mad and I would only ever see her that mad once more.

“What do you mean you don’t know? How could you not know?”

Despite my lies she found out and I expected she would have beat the crap out of Runt or something but he never showed any sign that she’d punished him at all except for the fact that he missed a couple meals. The next time I saw him was shortly before dinner time the very next day. I had expected him to look like hamburger but instead he looked normal minus the still healing scratches Vera had given him. Even his black eye was healing; there was just some orange and yellow left under his eye.

After I had the run in with Miss-M my first day out of the secret room I went to the kitchen where I found a sober though still rough looking Fyer and Timmy cooking up a storm. The two of them had become a cooking tag-team. That only downside was that Timmy was starting to look a lot like Fyer.

Timmy was the first to spot me coming through the door. “SIMON’S BACK!” he cheered as if he hadn’t just seen me that very morning.

When Fyer saw me, the first thing out of his mouth was, “YOU! YOU BLEW UP MY KITCHEN!” and he threw a whole pickle at me. I amazed all three of us when I caught it. “I otta turn you over my knee!” he added and the mental image of that was laughable to say the least.

Timmy let loose with a, “Whoa!” when I caught the pickle and that pretty much summed up my feelings about it too.

Fyer then saw my face and seen how I wasn’t standing completely upright. I knew that he already knew about my face because Lowell had told me that he’d told him.

Despite Lowell working with the computers he was still allowed to come back to our cabin room to sleep at night and that meant he was able to visit me in the secret room at night. He also told me how it was, “easy work but they keep it so darn cold in there!” and about who else was working on the computers. Some of the names I knew, some I didn’t.

Fyer was standing on a stool but climbed down from it, walked over to the other side of the kitchen and got out a big sauce pan. He brought it over, turned it upside down and told me to... “Sit your bottom down there and don’t even think of trying to help us!” and he actually smiled. It wasn’t a normal smile, it was one of those smiles you see the dorks in school use when they are getting their year book photo’s taken.

I couldn’t get over how Fyer sounded, I mean I thought that the way I had heard him before was how he talked but that was just all the booze.

Lowell had spent several nights with me in the secret room telling me about how he had found a letter wrote by Segal and it was addressed to Fyer. Lowell had taken to reading it out loud over and over and over until Fyer got a hold of it and burned it. But it had done the trick and Fyer, for the most part had stopped drinking.

While I sat on the sauce pan watching Timmy chop up a mess of carrots, Fyer came back up to me and handed me a bowl and spoon. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I looked into the bowl and saw chocolate chips and not that store bought kind; this had big chunks of chocolate and was fresh made right there in the Banachelli kitchen. Boy nothing has ever tasted so good as that ice-cream did.

That was the only day that Fyer let me just sit and watch them work. The next day he made me sit on that same pot again but this time he put a vegetable peeler in my hand and had me peeling potatoes until I thought my fingers were going to fall off.

When I had come in that second day Timmy had been giggling as was Fyer but the boy stopped when they saw me. After I’d been sitting peeling potatoes for about ten minutes Fyer popped up with, “Alright, I got one!”

“One what?” I asked him thinking he was talking to me.

Timmy looked over at Fyer, “It’s about time!”

Fyer glanced my way then looking at Timmy as he began, “There was this Indian walking through the desert when he found a cowboy hat.”

“Have you heard this one?” Fyer asked and I knew he wasn’t asking me.

“Nope!” Timmy answered.

Fyer then looked my way and figuring he was telling a joke I shook my head to indicate that I hadn’t heard it before either.

Fyer continued to work while he spoke, “The Indian picked up the hat, brushed it off and put it on his head saying, ‘Good hat!’ and continued walking.

A little while later, the Indian came upon a stage coach with several cowboys in it. The cowboys asked the Indian if he wanted a ride. The Indian thinks to himself, ‘Must be lucky day. First me find hat now get to ride. He tells the cowboys, ‘Me like’m ridding better than walking.’ and so he climbed into the stage coach.

After a few minutes one of the cowboys says to another cowboy, ask him if he wants a beer. When asked the Indian replied, ‘Me like’m beer very much!’

A while later one of the cowboys says to another cowboy, ‘Ask him if he’s into oral loving.’ to which the Indian quickly replied, ‘No, no! Me no cowboy! Me just find the hat!”

When Fyer finished telling his joke he began to laugh so loud and so hard I thought he was going to fall into whatever it was he was cooking.

“I don’t get it!” I said after thinking about it for a minute.

I looked at Timmy and he looked perplexed too but then suddenly, as if a firecracker had just gone off in his head, Timmy yelped with laughter, “I GET IT! I GET IT!”

And even after Timmy explained it to me I still wasn’t sure I got it. “I still don’t get it.” I said more to myself then to them.

Fyer just waved me off with his ladle and said, “You’re too young for that joke anyway!”

“What?” I griped, “I’m older then Timmy!”

Fyer looked at Timmy before saying anything else. “Well then he’s smarter,” he said pointing at Timmy with the ladle, “and you’re too soft up here.” He pointed at his head.

“What?” I griped again, “Are you saying I’m dumb?”

They both laughed and I just sat there abusing a potato.

 

There was something else that happened that second day in the kitchen that bears recording here. I was sitting in such a way that when the door opened I had an unobstructed view into the outer room. It wasn’t intentional for Fyer to put me there, that’s just how it worked out. I was about a step and a half away from Timmy who was kneeling on a tall stool chopping green peppers when the door swung opened and Mikey, Tater’s younger brother walked in with a large sack of onions slung over his shoulder.

“Where you want these?” Mikey grunted to Fyer.

Mikey then saw my face and exclaimed loudly, “What happened to you!”

While Mikey stood holding the door open with his elbow I could see out to the other room where Miss-M, Tater and Runt were standing talking and laughing. After what he’d done to me, seeing Runt laughing made something in me snap.

I wasn’t aware of standing up or grabbing the big chopping knife away from Timmy or even running out of the kitchen either. I think the entire ship heard Runt let out a blood curdling scream as I swung the knife wildly. It wasn’t until Tate had wrestled me to the ground that I even knew I was off my cooking pot seat.

“What the hell’s gotten into you Spaz?” Tater shouted.

“Ask that son-of-a...” I started to scream but Tater had unknowingly tried to cover my mouth and had hurt me bad enough to silence me.

Runt was standing about ten feet away cradling his arm which now had three gashes, each about six inches long and was spewing blood.

Madam-M snatched the knife out of my hand before I could get my arm free from Tater’s grip.

“What’s he talking about?” Tater asked and I didn’t know if he was addressing Runt or Madam-M.

Tater got to his feet, but I was still on the floor recovering and that was when Tate saw the nasty scab covered scar on the side of my face.

“What the f**k! Who the hell did you get that?” he asked and I looked into his eyes but it wasn’t Tater that I saw.

Madam-M was hurriedly trying to rap a cloth around Runts arm when Tater stood up and looking at Runt while pointing back to me he screamed, “What the f**k happened to him?”

“F**k him and f**k you too!” Runt shouted back trying to keep his bleeding arm tightly to his body.

“All of you stop it this instant!” Madam-M said trying to get the three of us under control.

In an instant Tater launched himself at Runt knocking Madam-M over in the process. I saw Tater’s left hand collide with Runts face and heard several more smacks before Runt toppled over backward with a floor rattling crash. But that didn’t stop Tate, not even Madam-M was able to pull Tate off Runt.

Tate was talking between each punch...

“What...”

SMACK!

“...the...”

SMACK!

“...f**k...”

SMACK!

“...did...”

SMACK!

“...you...”

SMACK!

“...do...”

SMACK!

“...to...”

SMACK!

“...him?”

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

 

I couldn’t see the blows connecting but I could hear each one of them between the flaming words coming out of Taters mouth.

I don’t know why it came to mind right then but I found it ironic that Tater was the one beating the crap out of Runt considering that he was kind of guilty for the same sort of thing. Yeah I didn’t know the true details but I had a good idea what he’d done to Mikey before and I knew for sure what had happened between him and me that one night in his room. Then again, since I didn’t know the details, maybe Tate had never crossed the line and forced himself on Mikey the way Runt had me. Maybe what happened back then between the two of them was something mutual just as it had been between Tate and me.

All of this was happening in the space of a few seconds and finally Madam-M stepped back and kicked Tater in the stomach as though she were punting a football in the Super Bowl. Tater went spinning sideways into the air and landed on top of one of the tables which sent it sliding across the floor and into the recently repaired wall. The same wall I had blown a hole threw not so long ago.

The kick looked incredibly painful but Tater didn’t stay down. He rolled off the table and tried to stand but Madam-M’s hand came down like a tomahawk chop making contact with the right side of Tater’s neck. With a moan of pain he went down hard to his knees and this time he stayed down much longer.

In the furry of her stopping Tater from killing Runt, Runt had managed to slip out of the room. When she saw that he had gone, like a switch had been flipped Madam-M turned toward me, reached down and lifted me to my feet.

“Are you ok Simon?” she asked sounding motherly.

I was still mad, “You might have stopped me this time but I swear to you I will kill him one day.” The words came out of my mouth but they didn’t sound anything like me; they sounded almost daemonic.

She squatted to be at my height but even while squatting she was still head and shoulders above me. “No you won’t. I have already dealt with him for this.” She said gesturing toward my face.

I spat my words into her face. “Doesn’t look like you did!”

Her eyes were dwelling on my scarred face, “Not all scars are visible for all to see but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there.”

“My boy hurt you,” she said softly.

“Your boy?” I hissed and I could tell by her eyes that she hadn’t meant to call Runt that.

“Runt,” she corrected herself, “hurt you and now today you got your revenge by cutting him. It’s over now. Do you hear me?” she said keeping her voice calm.

Tater was trying to get to his feet. He was holding his stomach and wincing a lot but he was able to stand.

Madam-M snapped her fingers in front of my face to get my attention off Tate. “It is over!”

I looked over at Tater again and again she snapped her fingers.

“I want to hear you say that it is over.” She said still remaining cool and under control.

“How do I know that he won’t try something again?” I snapped my fingers back at her and was disappointed when she didn’t react to it at all.

She only paused for a split second before saying with extremely confidence, “He won’t!” but she must have seen that I wasn’t sold on it yet so she added, “However, if he disobeys me and tries to harm you again I will make sure there won’t be a third time.”

There was a small clanking sound behind me. I looked over my shoulder to see Fyer standing in the doorway to the kitchen holding a cleaver in one hand and an iron frying pan in the other. His eyes were locked on Madam-M with a hatred I thought only I felt for her.

I looked back to Madam-M and said, “And that’s supposed to make me feel better? I’ll be dead but that doesn’t matter because I know you will punish him?”

“I already told you that he won’t do anything to you ever again.” She said this time her voice sounded a bit colder.

I looked over at Tater who was now leaning against the wall looking pissed and also trying to keep his distance from Fyer. Both of his hands looked to be bleeding but I supposed that could have been Runts blood.

“Ok, but if he so much as looks at me wrong the deals off!” I said still just as angry and on fire as I was the moment I’d attacked Runt.

“That is if I don’t get to him first!” Tater said directing his words toward me. His words didn’t come out sounding very strong, as a matter of fact it sounded like it pained him greatly to speak but he still got his point across.

Madam-M turned her whole upper body to look at Tater, “That goes for you too!” she said and somehow she sounded more like she were scolding a disobedient toddler when she addressed Tate.

I felt someone tugging on my arm and looked over to see Fyer had a hold of my right forearm. “Come on son; get yourself back to the kitchen.”

And that was the end of that. Once Fyer was sure I hadn’t hurt myself he sat me back on the overturned pot, shoved the vegetable peeler into my right hand and a potato into my right. “No more knives for you!” He said patting my knee and giving me a wink.

Timmy was just standing there with his fists on his hips looking very annoyed.

“What?” I said as though nothing had happened.

Trying to look mean Timmy said, “Ya’ took my fav’rite knife!”

 

Chapter 27

 

** As always, your thoughts matter to me very, very much, so please send any comments, questions, suggestions, or criticism to me at: [email protected] **