DANNY'S DIAPER FANTASIES PART 1 CHAPTER 1 This is a fictionalized account of my own life, very near the very beginning of my life. The names have been changed, and I've just picked names out of the air, so they don't have any other meaning than that I give them, and are not intended to refer to any one now living or dead. It has many references to infantilism and diaper loving sex fetish. If this offends, please don't read. This is not pornography, child or adult, and although there is some mention of, well, child abuse coupled within the guise of child punishment, it is only to depict the horrors that really did happen. I am a very vocal and active anti-child abuse activist! The story is about me. I and my three brothers and mama, were rendered homeless when I was two and a half years old, and my next older brother was not quite four. Our oldest brother was just five, while our youngest was 18 months. We had been living in an old two room cabin, in an old resort on a lake in Wisconsin. We were living, if you can call it that, at this old resort because our Daddy was gone to war, (WWII) and it was the only place our mama could afford to rent that would rent to a woman with four kids not in school, and for the most part, were all in diapers. Us boys didn't know that our mama and daddy were divorced, and would never live together again. The money that the federal government (U.S.Army)allotted his children was not very much and our mama had to work every day but Sunday, in a diner in the town of Fifield. Mama had a friend living next door, named Grace, or Gracie as us kids called her that and she never corrected us for that. She had three boys, all around the same ages as we were. She kind of kept an eye on us for mama, just trying to keep us from any dangerous situations, that the seven of us managed to create. Nearly daily, we were "all" in trouble for something. The main thing that had us in "dutch", was with the resort manager, who ran a little convenience market for the resort and surrounding area. He also had the row boat rental and fishing bait and supplies. He really got hyper when the seven of us, ranging in age from one and a half to five years of age, nearly all of whom were either wearing diapers, or training pants, and no plastic or rubber pants. Of course we seldom managed to get to his front porch until after we got our peanut butter sandwiches and milk at lunch time at Gracie's house. She always wanted us to take a nap after lunch, and we'd all lay down on the floor until her friend came courting, and we'd sneak out. By then, like on most days in the summertime in Wisconsin, it would be so hot and humid and the gravel driveway would be so hot that we would naturally migrate to where it was a little cooler. The convenience market was the coolest place in the resort, being surrounded by very large pine trees and having a covered front porch. Also by this time, even though Gracie tried to keep us changed, we'd be in various stages of being wet, and our pants or diapers full. It got to be a game with us kids. We'd wait until he was busy with some fishermen or a customer, and then we'd climb onto his porch where his painted floor and the roof of the porch would be a balm to our hot, sore bare feet. (All of us got only one new pair of shoes a year, donated by the local confederacy of churches, in the fall of the year) He'd finish his business with the fishermen, or customers, and come and chase us away, hollering and shouting so fast that nobody could understand him. The game was to see if we could all get onto the porch, or if real lucky, see how long we could stay their cooling our feet. I think I learned then, the true meaning of the saying, "Cooling their heels". Mama would often stay over at a man friends apartment, leaving us kids home alone, and poor Gracie'd have to see that we at least started the night in dry clothes, and that we had something for supper, then she'd tuck us all in before going home to her own three boys, who were much more rowdy than we were. That's pretty much the way we'd spend our days. Playing around our cabins, battling one another over use of the tricycles, or pedal cars among other toys given to us that were repaired cast-offs that other, more wealthy families had no use for any more, before lunch, getting in the way of the ice truck and driver every day, and getting other kids in the camp in trouble by telling them that there was a rattlesnake in the out house. I don't know why, but for some reason some of those boys always believed us. Nearly every week one of us boys would start the story going around the cabins that there was a snake in there, and nearly every week they'd believe us, wetting and messing their pants or diapers in fear of the snake, while we watched them and tried to not let them see us watching them. Often some of those boys who were supposed to be potty trained and wearing training pants or even briefs, were put back into diapers, 24/7 for a couple of weeks. One night, about four in the morning, I woke up choking on the fumes in the bedroom. My crib was actually in the closet, in order for there to be room for Eric's crib, and Ronny and Andy's bunkbeds, plus mama's bed. Now, usually when any of us woke up we'd be choking on the fumes in our room. Mama was never a very good housekeeper. She only had one set of sheets for each of our beds, and couldn't afford to buy more, of course everything was rationed during the war, but even then she couldn't afford the extra expense plus the expense of additional loads of wash. She did the laundry on Sunday morning, since that was her only day off and besides, there wasn't usually anyone around using the washers on Sunday. The sheets that were washed and dried on Sunday and put back on our beds, didn't get washed or removed from the bed unless one of us had a particularly messy diaper, that got on the sheets. Then, Andy'd pump some water into the sink, and attempt to wash the sheet good enough to last until Sunday. But you can imagine what our bedroom was like after a couple of nights of all of us wetting and or pooping in our beds. Mama had a problem too that no one ever mentioned, even then everyone knew about it. It isn't something in those days, that was considered polite to comment on in adult conversation. Mama had a problem giving birth to Eric, that left her nearly totally incontinent as far as her bladder was concerned. She couldn't cough, or laugh very hard at all and her bladder would empty. She had bought herself three pairs of rubber pants, and used some large bath, terry towels as diapers for herself, because she was a waitress and couldn't go home and change and come back. I could see a fairly large pee stain on her mattress from the vantage point of standing up in my crib, and wondered to myself, "Why does mama and everyone try to get us all *Potty Trained* when obviously mama wets the bed." Anyway, you can see the confusion upon waking, choking on the fumes in the bedroom, until I opened my eyes and saw that it was totally...BLACK.....DARK, My eyes are burning, and it hurt to draw a breath. One side of my crib was up against the back wall of the closet, and the one end of it was up against the side wall of the closet. The other end of the crib was about three or four inches from the other side wall. I stood up in total darkness and quietly at first, called out, then louder, and nobody answered. I started then, to scream. I was badly scared. I had never been in any where that was that dark. I groped my way to the side of the crib that I thought was open to the bedroom, and ran my hand into the wall. I was so surprised that I stumbled on the twisted up top sheet of my crib, and fell heavily, smack down on the mattress that brought my attention to another problem. I mashed a considerable load of poop against my bum, squeezing a lot of it into and up the crack of my bum. Then I noticed that I was wet all the way up to my armpits, the nearly threadbare blanket sleeper heavy with my pee, and discovered that I was standing up in my wet clothes and I was not the least bit cold, in fact, I was sweating in mid day type of heat. That was very different from any of my young experience. I tried standing up again, while continuing my screaming, thinking that I had turned, and therefor should be facing the open bedroom. I ran my fingers, rather painfully into the wall once again, and now I really panicked, and couldn't hear any of my brothers, even if they had been screaming too. I was standing in a room so dark that I couldn't see my hand in front of my face, and seemed to be in a small closet with the door closed, and it was so hot now that sweat was pouring from my body. I tried once again to reach a rail or end panel of my crib, and again ran my hand into the wall. I was choking so hard now on some kind of fumes, and my nose was running so I had to breathe with my mouth open. My throat was burning, I was wet, soiled, alone and locked I some kind of closet, and I wanted my mommy, I was totally freaked out and all consciousness departed. I came to when I felt cool air on my face and my wet cold sleeper clinging to me, as Gracie was rubbing my arms and legs, after what must have been a slap to my face, because my face stung. I gasped as I took in the cool air in my tortured lungs and throat, and awareness brought back my panic for just a couple of seconds, then subsiding as I could see Eric lying on the grass next to me, nearly asleep. He could sleep through an earthquake. Then I recognized everyone in the very early dawn light, as a fire truck was pumping water from the lake to a tanker that sprayed water on our cabin, that was burning like paper. Someone came running and screaming out of the place that was supposed to be the doorway, screaming at the top of her lungs and with her hair on fire and holding my highchair at arms length before collapsing soundlessly on the ground. Someone said that the person running out of the cabin was my mama, but I never knew for sure until I found her twenty five years later. I don't really remember much of anything from the fire through having to be quiet in the hallway of the courthouse while the fate of us four boys was decided. I found myself in a strange home, with some strange people, saying that I could, if I wished call them mama and daddy. I fought like a little demon then, because I was all alone with these people who are trying to tell me that they are my Mommy and Daddy now, and tried laying down some kinds of rules, what's going on around here. I don't remember any of what happened the first few weeks after the fire, in which the child welfare department saw fit to break up us boys, and spread us to the four winds and took away the only constant in our young lives, our mother. CHAPTER 2 I wasn't to see my Mother for twenty-five years. The people with whom the Child Welfare Dept. saw fit, in their infinite wisdom, to put me, were people I didn't like, and the more they tried to get me to say Mama, or Daddy, the more I disliked them. After about thirty minutes or so, they stopped the car, instructed me to stay in the car, don't play with anything and left. We were in the middle of an early spring blizzard. I was wet, and it began to feel like I needed to poop. Seeing no reason to change my habits, I just let it rip when I had to go, wetting as well after holding it so long. Remember?, NO POTTY TRAINING!! It wasn't my fault that I did what came natural! It began to get dark, and it seemed to take them forever to come out of the bar. I had wet my diaper yet again, just before those people came out of the bar, holding each other up in the storm, and both staggering as they walked. The man got in behind the wheel and almost immediately began cussing, What is that blank-itty ________ Smell!!! She got in saying, "You're the one had the big Idea to get a really young one. He is wearing diapers, that should have given you a rough idea that he might wet and fill his diapers. No sane human would guess otherwise!" The stink of sour beer mixed with the odors emanating from my wet soiled diaper, and their yelling at each other, and scared me really bad. The poop I'd done in my diapers had cooled off considerably, while waiting for their return, now they return and immediately they start yelling and screaming at each other over me. Man, that really scared me! I felt another round of poop coming, but it came so fast, and was thin like water, but hot. I'd found out some time before that sometimes you can ease the pain of imminent pooping by releasing a bubble of gas or two. This one just felt like a bubble of gas, so I added a little pressure to it and sent it on its way out of my body, and.....wwellllllll! It wasn't gas. It was, hot watery diarrhea. Now the battle really started rolling. Before we even got `home', Fred turned in the front seat, just enough that he could reach me to plant a hard smack to my teary face, catching one of my ears into the bargain. I quickly covered my head and squeezed my tiny body as close to the rear corner of the car as I could, and right behind him so he would have to turn all the way around to hit me again. This was an older car from my stand point at the time, ( think it was a thirty-six Ford, and this was the winter or spring of 1945-1946.) and the car was quite narrow in the back seat where Lolitta could still, if she wanted, reach me to hurt me, but I figured that she wouldn't be able to hit with the force that Fred did. It must have snowed a lot just recently, because the snow banks formed when the plows went through were very high and remarkably clean. It was like riding through a white tunnel with a black ceiling as far as the fairly dim headlights of that era went. Beyond the headlights, it seemed as if the scene was being created as we went forward in the car. Really spooky to a young kid like me. There would be a break in the wall on one side or the other as we proceeded, being driveways to peoples homes, that was eerie too. Eventually we started to slow down, and I could hear the snow complaining as the wheels rolled over it, a high pitch squeaking sound. Up ahead I could just see a break on the right hand snow bank, as the car continued to slow and the break in the bank got closer and closer, until we were slowed down enough to turn into that drive. It was a fairly long driveway, about a quarter of a mile, at the end of which was a home, a garage, an ice shed and a barn. There was another shed behind the ice shed in which Fred kept his beer truck and cases of full bottles of beer. There weren't any beer cans yet, like there is now. He stopped to let Lolitta and me out at the front door of the house, then drove the car about twenty-five feet further, got out to open the garage door, and presumably parked the car in it and then closed the garage again. I wasn't there to see it, being as Lolitta had hold of my hand and dragged me into the house. I had no choice but to go along. Inside, the house was fairly clean as far as I could see when she pulled the string turning on the single light bulb hanging from a cord in the center of the kitchen. Our place, the place that burned down, wasn't very clean, As I said, our mother was not a very good house keeper, and us boys managed to mess up the house just as soon as our feet got inside the door. We had gone through a shed full of cases of empty beer bottles, and up a stairway onto a small porch, where we'd stopped while Lolitta unlocked the door and then into the kitchen with it's sorry little light bulb. There was a doorway straight ahead, and I could see the arm of either an easy chair or a couch, so that must bee the living room. Lolitta flung her coat onto a kitchen chair, and led me to a room to the left. As she opened the door, I could see a crib, changing table and other baby things. She took me by the hand and pulled me into this room and lifted up onto the changing table. She said to me in a soft voice, "My you are a tiny little thing aren't you? A person would think you are to little to know how to walk, let alone use the potty. Maybe we ought to keep you in diapers a while longer, since you won't be able to get up on the potty, let alone use it. I'll see if I can find a little step stool you can use to get up on the toilet." I was thinking, "No, don't take away my diapers, I don't want to go the agony my two older brothers went through until they were nominally "trained". She strapped my hands down and my chest had a belt over it too, and began undoing my little overalls with the snap all the way up one leg and down the other, un-buttoned the straps that went over either shoulder, and pulled them off. She removed the plastic pants, and disappeared into the attached bathroom for a few seconds, and appeared after a little bit, with a white face. I think she couldn't handle the stink that permeated the air from the stink of my wet messy pants that I had worn all day long. She should have known that I would stink even worse with the diaper opened to the air, than with it covered with my regular outer clothing. I couldn't see anything from where I was laying. I was only able to see the door and doorway leading to the kitchen, and when she touched me again, I jumped a little, having forgotten for just a second, that she'd be back to finish the job. The next installment on this story will attempt to show the violent type of person Fred is to his foster child, soon to be children, when my next older brother, by some quirk of fate, joins me at this little ranch of horrors.