----------------------------
The Trip

Summary: The story of a 15-year-old boy who is taken on a 
trip by his aunt, as a baby.
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The Voyage (Le Voyage par B‚b‚ Pat, 1999)
Translated from the French by Baby Morgan, 2001

	We had already driven for 3 hours on the motorway. 
Outside the weather was cold and raining. It was just two 
of us; my aunt Erika who drove and me on the back seat. 
Actually, she was my cousin. But the difference in age, she 
was 32 and me 15, and especially the kind of rapport 
between us, meant that I called her my aunt. We were going 
to her friend who had invited us for a two-week visit.
	Aunt Erika had assured me that 'aunt' Irmarg already 
knew a lot about me, that she was curious to see me, and 
very happy about our visit. My aunt Erika added, while 
smiling at me, that her friend above all, wanted to have a 
baby.
	I did not have any reason to be surprised by her 
comment, as I was sitting in the back seat of the car with 
a thick diaper on my behind and between my legs and it was 
certainly not the first time that I had been diapered like 
a baby.
	I was accustomed to wearing baby clothes, but what 
bothered me the most was to be presented thus to a woman I 
didn't know. Moreover, it was the first time that I had 
worn diapers during the day and that I would wear baby 
clothes in public.
	Aunt Erika had hidden the manner in which I was to 
make the trip until that morning. Like each morning, after 
breakfast, she put me on the baby's potty to make poopies. 
At this point, I saw her lay out on the changing table the 
thick yellow diapers that she preferred to put me in at 
night. Then she took from the sideboard something I had 
never seen before that proved to be a narrow flannel diaper 
with snaps. In a pouch designed for this, she slipped two 
disposable diaper stuffers and placed the whole assembly on 
the yellow diaper.
	These preparations left no doubt about what Aunt Erika 
had in mind for me. She turned towards me and asked: 
"Finished?"
	I nodded my head and she lifted me from the potty, 
wiped me clean, and congratulated me, like one does a baby, 
for having done my business. Now she had no worry that I 
might mess my diaper during the trip.
	"Well!" she announced. "Time to make you into a sweet 
baby. I think it is better that I put you into diapers for 
the long voyage!"
	I had no grounds to protest, as I was already 
accustomed to being diapered by Aunt Erika. So, I sat down 
on the diaper spread out on the changing table without 
discussion.
	My aunt slipped me into a baby style undershirt that 
was closed in the back by a cord around the neck and was 
covered with small colored flowers embroidered on the 
front. Next she laid me down and coated me thoroughly with 
cream and powder "so that I smelled like a sweet, clean 
baby." As she pulled the diaper between my legs she 
announced:
	"Ah! Look how cute you are! It is really too bad to 
hide all that under diapers. Since I will have probably 
have to change you during the trip, I'm putting your 
plastic panties on you. She examined me once more and 
thought: "We will have to do without much more of his 
layette; the child is getting too big, and his normal pants 
won't fit otherwise!"
	Once the diapers and plastic pants were secured, she 
tapped playfully on the thick bulge of diapers on my 
behind. She still decided to put me in a loose, long sleeve 
baby-blue onesie that would "keep me warm and hide my 
dydees." After buttoning the onesie between my legs, she 
looked at me contentedly: "Now you look adorable! It's not 
right that we have to hide this from the world. I would 
have preferred that everyone see you in the car and admire 
my big baby. Oh well - I am sure you will like aunt 
Irmgard.
	After, I dressed in my normal clothing. The pants were 
naturally too tight. It so strongly compressed the diapers 
between my thighs that I could hardly walk, once standing. 
I felt awkward as my aunt hugged me close, kissed me on the 
cheek, and announced that her big baby is just learning how 
"to walk." The idea of walking in front of people terrified 
me, with the fear reminding me at every moment that I was 
diapered like a baby.
	I was a little comforted when my aunt pushed me in 
front of a large mirror where I finally saw myself. While 
the pants bulged in the rear and between the legs, at first 
glance no one would suspect that I was a 15-year-old boy 
who still wore diapers and plastic pants. Even the onesie 
looked like a normal shirt, at least with my pants on.
	"Even when your dydees are wet," my aunt joked, "they 
won't be more visible than now."
	I was in a state of apprehension and anguish for the 
nearly three hours we had been on the road. Up until now, 
no one had seemed to notice anything, but for the last hour 
and a half, despite my desire to remain dry, my diapers 
were wet. Even as I thought about it, I felt more warmth 
spread itself through my diaper. I was anxious about what 
aunt Erika would say when she realized just how wet I was. 
When she turned her head towards me:
	"Oh! I see by his face that my baby has made pee-pee 
in his didees! Where am I going to change you now?"
	I did not know, naturally.
	"Look there," as she pointed out a sign, "in about 
half an hour, we'll arrive at a rest area. We'll be able to 
eat and maybe find a place where we can change you into 
some nice clean diapers."
	I didn't see how she could do that, but she seemed to 
have an idea. I was increasingly anxious, because as she 
parked the car in the lot of the rest area, half an hour 
later, changing me was of paramount urgency. Since we had 
three more hours of driving to go, and with the thought of 
spending that time in almost overflowing diapers, I made no 
objections when she instructed me to follow her.
	She took the bag in which she had packed that morning 
all the supplies required to change my now soaked diapers. 
I followed meekly behind her into the interior of the 
building. I wondered how she was going to be able to change 
me discreetly in the middle of the crowds of people, when I 
found myself before a door bearing the description "Baby 
Changing Room". I felt like I had been nailed to the spot 
where I was standing, though my initial reaction was to run 
as fast as I could, but my aunt Erika held me tightly and 
announced innocently:
	"This is exactly what need! It is perfectly equipped 
for changing the wet diapers of toddlers like you!" She 
added, comfortingly:
	"Just in case someone is curious, I'll simply explain 
that you are sick. Come on!"
	With those words she drew me towards the door. My 
first hope was that we would be alone, but unfortunately, 
that was not the case. A rather young woman was just 
beginning to change her one-year-old baby. She looked at us 
a little astonished, not seeing a little child. Erika 
wasn't worried. She moved towards the large changing table 
that occupied the long wall of the room, at the other end 
of which the other woman was changing her baby.
	To remain as unobtrusive as possible, I obeyed 
instantly when my aunt told me to lay down on the vinyl-
covered padded changing table. As if it were the most 
normal thing in the world, Aunt Erika began to undress me. 
The astonished woman watched with interest. Naturally, I 
was humiliated.
	Even though the situation was humiliating for me, it 
all became clear as I turned my head saw the baby lying on 
the other end of the table. I realized that I was lying in 
front of Aunt Erika exactly as the baby was in front of his 
mother, and that I was going to be treated exactly like 
that baby who was having clean diapers pinned on.
	Meanwhile, Aunt Erika had undressed me down to my 
onesie. She was obviously enjoying the situation. She 
leaned over me and with a smile, and with a whisper asked 
if she should give me my pacifier. Thank heavens she wasn't 
serious!
	As Aunt Erika unsnapped the onesie, the woman finally 
turned and said: "My, you have quite a large baby to care 
for there." "Oh, yes!" replied my aunt, "My little boy is 
simply sick. While it isn't serious, the doctors haven't 
been able to help. He still wets himself easily, and there 
isn't much choice but to treat him like a baby."
	"Are those real baby clothes you have for him? I did 
not know that they made a layette for such a large child!" 
said the woman as she looked from her baby to me.
	As she spoke, my aunt continued with me. Now I was 
lying down, the onesie raised under my chin and the arms. I 
looked exactly like the other baby down to our diapers, 
though they were naturally of different sizes. The woman 
noted that I was missing only a pacifier to be a real baby 
like hers.
	"Oh! You'll laugh!" my aunt answered, to my terror, 
"He often is a real baby who uses his paci. You know, when 
you have to put a big boy into diapers, it is not only 
practical to dress him in a layette, it such a pleasure 
that that I often give him a baby bottle."
	"I believe it, and really understand!" said the woman 
as she looked at me gently. "When children leave their 
layette and their diapers, you've already half lost them. 
After my oldest left and was no longer close to me, I have 
often wished that I could still dress him as a baby."
	During the discussion, Aunt Erika withdrew a clean 
flannel diaper, identical to the one I was wearing, from 
her bag. She quickly assembled it and lined it with two 
disposable diapers stuffers.
	"Oh! That looks so soft!" said the woman who had 
approached. "It is also very practical." responded my aunt, 
" It stay warm and lasts longer than ordinary diapers."
	She peeled off my dripping diaper and placed it to the 
side. "Eh! It was about time. You would not have lasted 
three more hours " Aunt Erika announced. She slipped the 
clean diapers under my bottom and snapped them firmly into 
place.
	During this time, the woman finished with her baby, 
and we were both snapped at the same time back into out 
onesies. While the other baby was dressed in a thick 
bunting bag and a small bonnet, my Aunt again dressed me in 
my regular pants. She lifted me from the changing table, 
patted me on the bottom and commented on how I was now a 
clean and dry baby. I was thrilled that I had made it 
through the experience and was glad that I wouldn't have to 
stay in the changing room for much longer.
	Aunt Erika repacked the diaper back, placed the wet 
diapers in a plastic bag and threw the used diaper stuffers 
into the trashcan.
	The woman had also finished. She lifted her baby into 
her arms and together we left the dreadful room. Despite my 
embarrassment, I was happy to be back into clean and dry 
diapers.
	Outside, my aunt and the woman separated amicably, 
wishing each other a good trip and happiness for their 
children. As we moved towards the restaurant, aunt Erika 
asked me whether it had been that unpleasant for me, and 
commented that the other woman had been nice and 
understanding with me.
	At the restaurant we saw them one more time. She sat 
with her family two tables away and smiled at me from time 
to time in a friendly way. Each time she did, I scrunched 
down, conscious of the fact that I was outfitted exactly 
like the baby sitting on her knees. I'm sure that was 
exactly what she wanted. Naturally that embarrassed me, but 
at the same time I felt a strange excitement.
	When we returned to the car, my aunt thought that 
would be a good idea for me to take a nap and told me to 
lie down on the back seat. Once I lay down, she suddenly 
put a bottle of milk in my hand, slipped the nipple into my 
mouth. Tired by the meal and by all the stress, I nursed 
without protesting... Once it was empty, I was so docile 
that, when aunt Erika exchanged the bottle for a pacifier, 
I continued to nurse. The fatigue and monotonous noise of 
the car transported me into a half sleep and my thoughts 
returned to when I first arrived at Aunt Erika's. I would 
have never dreamed then that, just eight weeks later, I 
would be lying on the back seat of a car, diapered like a 
baby, with a pacifier in my mouth.
	Never would I have imagined that I would agree to a 
return to infancy or that I would find so much pleasure 
there.

The End

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Translator's Note

As anyone who speaks more than one language knows, 
translating is far from an exact science. I often 
understood perfectly what was written in the original 
story, but found myself unable to express it in English. 
This generally happens because of different cultural 
references. For example, the method of diapering in France 
when using cloth diapers differs significantly from the 
methods used in the US. Baby clothes tend to be different 
between the two countries as well (hence the baby's 
undershirt that is used extensively in Europe but is a 
rarity in the States). I have attempted to maintain the 
spirit of the story as close to that which was written 
while making it more readable for an English speaking 
audience. Any errors are mine alone.