C.R.I.B.
CHAPTER 1
It seemed like just about any other Saturday morning. DJ and I were sitting in front of the TV playing video games. At around 9:00 AM somebody came to the door. My sister Patti answered, almost as if she had been expecting someone. Curious, I paused the game to see who it might be. I figured it was probably the Jehovah’s Witnesses making their rounds distributing “Watchtower” pamphlets again.
“They’re heeere!”
Patti announced, mimicking the popular line from the movie Poltergeist.
“Who’s here?” DJ asked. He and I both looked up at the front door where two large women dressed in black and wearing sunglasses were standing. They were rather intimidating, imposing figures. They looked like they were female FBI agents.
“Mom! They’re here!” Patti announced excitedly. A moment later Mom came downstairs.
“Oh, hi,” my Mom said, somewhat embarrassed that she didn’t have her makeup on. “You’re early.”
“Are these boys Kevin and DJ?” one of the women asked my Mom.
“Yes, Kevin’s the older one, and DJ is the younger one,” my Mom said.
“Say goodbye to your mommy and your sister and then come with us, boys,” one of them said firmly.
“What for?” I asked, suddenly feeling scared. “Who are you?”
“Don’t ask questions, just come with us,” they said sternly as she extended her hand towards me.
“Mom!” I hollered as I flinched and escaped her grasp. “Help us!” I panicked.
“They’re kidnapping us! Do something, mom!” DJ cried.
“Do as they say, boys,” Mom said as she came up to us, giving us each a hug and a kiss. Mom was starting to cry, but she seemed to know what was going on. Patti gave us each a hug, too. I normally didn’t accept hugs from my sister, but I was so scared and confused I didn’t care.
“What? What’s going on?” I asked, breaking into tears. Right then and there each of the women put our wrists in handcuffs and our ankles into leg restraints. The women started to lead us out of the house. We tried to resist, but it was no use. These women were too big and strong.
“Mom! Stop them!” DJ hollered.
“Call the cops!” I bellowed. “They’re kidnapping us!”
“This is for your own good, boys!” Mom said, still crying. “We’ll come visit you soon!”
“Visit?! Where?!” I asked.
“I can’t tell you now! You’ll find out soon enough! Just go with them ,okay! I love you boys!”
These were the last words I heard from my mother before we were escorted out the front door and towards a white van parked in the driveway. There was nothing to identify the van as it appeared rather unassuming. Its engine was running.
“MOM! HELP! SOMEBODY! HELP!” DJ screamed. He was even more scared than I was, and I was about as scared as I’d ever been in my life.
“What the hell’s going on here?!” I asked desperately.
“
“Do not ask us questions! Don’t even talk to us! Just do as we say!” one of the women told us coldly. “You’ll find out soon enough! Just get in the back of the van and enjoy the ride!”
The other woman opened the back door of the van and ordered us to get in and take our seats. She strapped us in and slammed the door. There were no windows at all in the back of the van. A series of narrow translucent skylights in the ceiling that ran the length of the van was the only thing that kept us from being in complete darkness. We also noticed a camera mounted on the wall that divided the front from the back. We felt the van backing out of the driveway and then moving down the street. It was hot and stuffy in the back of the van, plus it smelled of stale piss and shit. I hoped we wouldn’t be going very far, wherever we were going. DJ sat across from me. Tears were streaming down his face, and I was crying, too.
“What’s going on, Kevin?” DJ sobbed.
“I don’t know!” I exclaimed.
“I’m scared!” DJ said. “Where do you think they’re taking us?”
“I wish I knew,” I said. “All I know is that Mom said she’d come visit us! As opposed to coming to get us and take us back home. What does that tell you?”
“That sounds like we’re never gonna go home again!” DJ sobbed.
“Or worse,” I thought.
“Why do you think they’re doing this to us?” DJ asked. He asked me an entire barrage of questions I didn’t have answers for. While I could understand his fears and uncertainty, I was beginning to get more annoyed than anything else.
“DJ, I know you’re scared, and I’m scared shitless, too. I wish I knew what the fuck’s going on here, but I don’t, sorry.” I wanted to hug him, but the restraints we were in prevented this.
“You think we’re in trouble?” DJ sniffled.
“Must be; mom said this was for our own good, whatever she meant by that,” I said.
Wherever we were going, it was a
long ways from home. After making a few stops and starts, as if driving through
town (suburban
“If we are in trouble, what do you suppose we did?” DJ asked.
“Hard to say. What’s the last thing we got in trouble for?” I asked DJ, just to give him something to think about.
“Pooping my pants, not wiping. That’s what Mom and Dad are always getting on our asses for,” DJ said.
“I can’t imagine Mom would go to this much trouble just because we shit our pants a lot and don’t wipe very good,” I said.
“Speaking of shitting my pants, I’m about do just that,” DJ said. “Damn, I knew I should have used the bathroom for some reason!”
“I suppose asking them to stop at the next rest area’s out of the question,” I said. “I gotta take a major piss myself.”
As the van continued moving down the highway to God-knows-where, DJ was doing all he could to hold his forthcoming bowel movement. I figured it was no use, and if the women had a problem with us peeing or pooping ourselves, then it was their fault for not letting us stop and get out to use a toilet.
The pain in my bladder was getting more and more difficult to bear. I thought it was going to burst any minute now. I didn’t even have to piss this badly when I sat through the entire showing of “Finding Nemo” when I was seven, after drinking an entire soda without taking a bathroom break, not to mention the constant suggestion of having to urinate by all the water in the movie. Incidentally, DJ, who was four at the time, didn’t make it and ended up wetting himself. Mom was mad at him for this, and she was always getting upset at us for this and many other examples of not going to the bathroom when we should have.
I was wincing in pain as my bladder felt like a balloon about to pop. Each bump and jolt in the road didn’t help matters any, either. I couldn’t take it anymore so I said, “Hell with it!” and I let the piss flow into my jeans. My comfort was more important than anything else. DJ watched as a wet spot on my jeans rapidly expanded. Once my jeans were saturated whole streams of urine began dripping out from my pants legs. As we had only been in stocking feet when we left, my socks soaked up much of the drippings. A puddle of piss pooled up in the space beneath my butt. I could feel wetness spreading all across my ass.
Meanwhile, DJ was still squirming and trying to hold his poop.
“It’s no use, DJ, they’re not going to stop, so you might as well let it out.”
“I can’t stand it anymore!” he winced in despair.
“Let it go! What do you suppose we’ve got to lose at this point?”
DJ lifted his butt off of the seat and right then and there I heard a loud, juicy, extended fart along with the sound of mushy shit flowing out of his ass and into the seat of his pants. The air began to stink of fresh poop as he loaded his trousers. DJ had a look of relief on his red face.
“Oh God!” he said. “I can’t believe I shit my pants like that! Dammit, I stink! What’ll we tell the ladies driving?”
“What should you tell them? They’ll see we pissed and shit ourselves, and they should know why since they didn’t think to stop for bathroom breaks!”
Now we knew why the van smelled of piss and shit before we got in.
By the time I realized that two
hours had become three hours, I had to wonder if we were even in the
“Someone help us! Please!” I yelled.
‘Save us, someone! Please!” DJ exclaimed. Maybe a cop or at least a concerned citizen would come to our rescue. If this wasn’t a kidnapping, I didn’t know what was. Of course Mom wouldn’t just let a stranger come to the house and take us away the way they did. Maybe it was a big practical joke, one hell of a big practical joke. DJ and I continued to stomp the floor and holler, but this didn’t do any good. The van started up and we continued moving.
Two hours later I was getting tired and hungry. The heat of the afternoon was getting to me as well as DJ. The air became stinkier as I resigned myself to shitting my pants along with pissing in them again. DJ’s pants were completely soaked as well. I was tired of being confined to the seat for over five hours. I wanted to sleep, but I was in no position to rest comfortably.
After what seemed like six hours
the van slowed down and continued to move slowly, stopping and starting again
every few feet. Maybe we were going into
CHAPTER 2
After rolling for what seemed like half a mile the van finally came to a stop, engine shut off. I figured we must have reached the place we were going, wherever the hell that was. DJ started crying again.
“Where are we?” he asked me.
“We’ll soon find out— I hope,” I said, trying to assure him that maybe things wouldn’t be so bad. Finally, the back doors of the van flew open and we could finally breathe some clean air. All I could see out the doors of the van was a gray concrete wall. The women, apparently unfazed by the smells and the sight of our soiled, soaked pants, released the straps and told us to get up and get out of the van.
“You could have let us use the bathroom, you know,” I said to the woman handling me.
“You won’t be needing bathrooms anymore, kid,” she said. I didn’t know exactly what she meant by this, but I hoped it didn’t mean that we were going to be killed! I don’t ever remember feeling so scared or so uncertain of what would be happening to me. This made sitting in the principal’s office seem like a walk in the park.
Once we were out of the van we looked around. All I could see opposite the concrete wall was a pair of 20-foot-high chain link fences with dense coils of razor wire running along the top. Beyond the fences was a row of poplar trees. There was no way to tell what lied beyond. Not knowing where we were and being in such a cold and unfamiliar place had me shaking ever so nervously.
“This place is a prison!” I thought to myself. “A fucking prison!”
“I don’t like this place,” DJ said. “I wanna go home!”
“Quiet, boys!” the woman told me.
“Up yours, bitch!” I thought to myself. Something told me that if I had actually said that out loud I would have gotten into more trouble.
My arms were cramped up from being behind my back for so long. If they could take the damn handcuffs off and get me a change of clothes I would have been happy.
“Okay, boys, follow me,” the first woman said as she led DJ and me towards the large building. The other woman followed behind, prodding us to keep pace. I could hardly walk and my knees felt like they had turned to jelly. My cold, piss-soaked socks were making my feet and ankles itch. A load of shit remained wedged between my legs. My balls felt like they were burning and chafing. As I walked all I could see in front of me was the woman’s big black-pants-clad ass. When she reached a large steel door she whipped out a key and opened a flap mounted on the wall, revealing beneath it a large button and a speaker. She pressed it and said, “requesting access, intake entry door.”
“Please identify,” came a female voice over s speaker.
“Agent #62, Marley,” she said. “ID number 2083788003.”
A moment later a bell rang, a strobe light mounted behind an amber lens began flashing, and the large steel door began to open. A loud motor slowly lifted the heavy door. Behind it by about twelve feet was another identical steel door. Once the first door closed and locked the second door began to open about five seconds later.
“Christ, this place is a prison!” I thought again as the opening of the second door revealed a narrow hallway, walls made of solid concrete painted white. Along the hallway were several windowless steel doors, each of them labeled INTAKE STAGING AREA and a number (we were led into number six). Like the hallway, the room was painted white.
“Sit tight, boys,” the woman told us as she directed us to a concrete bench. She closed the heavy steel door behind her as she left. There was no knob or handle on our side of the door, so there was no way to open it. The hum of the fluorescent light filled the otherwise silent air. All we could do was sit and think about whatever it was that we did to deserve the same sort of treatment a convicted felon would get. Our pants had become cold and damp. Poor ventilation and no air conditioning combined with our urine- and feces-loaded pants caused the air to become stagnant.
“This place sucks!” DJ shouted in frustration.
“Tell me about it,” I said. “I wonder what’s going to happen next.”
About ten minutes later the door opened. Two girls who appeared to be around the age of twelve entered. One of them was blonde and heavyset with long, straight hair, while the other one was tall with brunette hair, also long and straight. They were nearly naked, wearing only a thong bikini and a very skimpy brassiere. Each of them had an ID badge around their necks. For the first time today I had an erection as I looked at the blonde girl’s butt. As excited as I was to be alone in a room with two nearly naked girls, the fact that we both stunk of piss and shit didn’t exactly set the mood for any erotic experimentation.
“Come with us, boys,” the girls told us.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“Just do as we say, or else!” the brunette told us.
“Or else what?” DJ asked.
“Do you want to find out the hard way?!” the girl said fiercely. Neither DJ or I said anything as we cowered in fear. These girls meant business, whoever they were.
“Didn’t think so, come on!” she told us. The girls escorted us out of the small room and down the narrow, dimly lit hallway into another room. The girls told us to stand still. A moment later each of them was wielding a large razor, a box cutter.
“Oh God, no, don’t kill us!” I shrieked.
“We’re not going to kill you, just relax,” the blonde told me in a not-so-soothing voice.
“So what’s with the blades then?” I asked, still shaking.
“To get these disgusting shit-stained clothes off of you, that’s what!” she replied. Wearing latex gloves, she knelt down in front of me and undid my jeans, apparently not bothered at all by the stench of urine and excrement. In spite of my nervousness, my dick was rock hard.
“Nice dick,” the girl said as she saw my penis tenting through my yellow-tinged briefs. She ran her hand over it a couple of times. “If you’re good you might get a little reward for your cooperation,” she said. She then produced the razor and positioned it perilously close to my dick, causing it to instantly lose about half of its erection.
She inserted the tip of the razor into the fabric of my jeans and proceeded to run the blade through the crotch and back to the seat. She then cut away at the sides, ripping my jeans down the legs.
“Hey! You’re ruining my pants!” I told her.
“They’re already ruined, from the looks of things, and the smell— phew! Besides, they won’t be your jeans much longer!”
“Do you have something for me to wear? Something clean?” I asked her.
“And me?” DJ added.
“Oh yeah, you’ll get something to wear all right,” she said with an evil, satisfied smile on her face. “More than you got on now, in fact!”
“What the hell’s going on here?!” I asked her indignantly.
“Don’t ask questions, you’ll find out soon enough,” she said.
“That’s what we were told several hours ago!” I said, as I was on the verge of snapping. “Why won’t anyone tell us what the FUCK is going on around here?!!!”
“Listen, Kevin— and this goes for you, too, DJ— one thing you will learn very fast around here is that we GIRLS are in charge! You BOYS answer to US! Period! You will obey and respect all of us if you want your stay here to be somewhat pleasant!”
“Fine, whatever,” I said. “Who are you? And why are you dressed like that?”
“We’re GIRLS!” she said.
“I see that!” I said, noting that her vagina was nearly exposed by the tiny camel-toed thong she had on. “I mean, what are you doing here, and who sent you in here?!”
“Around here, we are Girls, and you, DJ and everyone else we’re in charge of here are boys! You’ll find out more during your initiation.”
“Okay, fine, when’s initiation?”
“Later! You boys have to be processed first,” she said.
“Processed? What’s that mean?”
“I told you, don’t ask questions, Kevin!” she said.
“How do you know my name?”
“We keep records on everyone, you know,” she said. “We knew you were coming.”
“Can you at least take these damn cuffs off?”
“Once you’ve been processed and sent to your cell they’ll be off,” she said calmly.
“Cell?” I thought. That word only meant three things to me, and I doubted it had anything to do with biology or technology. It wouldn’t have been quite so bad if she had called it a room or a dorm.
“Wait a minute!” I said. “You guys arrested me! Aren’t I entitled to an attorney, and a trial?!”
“You paid attention in civics; good job,” the girl said. “But no, this doesn’t have anything to do with lawyers or trials.”
“So why are we in a prison?”
“This place isn’t a prison,” she said. “You’ll find out. Now don’t say another word or you’ll be spanked!”
I realized there was no use trying to get any more information out of the girl, so I decided to just keep my mouth shut. It seemed they were serious and they would go through with any threats they issued.
Now that my pants were off of me and reduced to several frayed, shredded ribbons lying on the floor, all I had on was a poop-loaded pair of underpants, a shirt and socks. My pants were completely saturated in bodily waste. The girl took great pleasure in cutting away my underwear. Once again my penis had become erect. The girl examined it with her hands and “complimented” me for its size.
“You’d make a lot of girls happy with that thing,” she said as she stroked it several times, brining her mouth teasingly close to it but not doing anything more. She then ripped away my shirt and then pulled my socks off. I was now completely naked.
Meanwhile, the brunette girl had been stripping DJ of his clothes. He didn’t say anything and just let the girl go to work on his clothes. Once the two of us were naked the girls told us to stand still. They gathered up the shreds of our pants, underwear and shirts and tossed them into an incinerator in the corner. They made us watch as they fired it up and burned our old clothes. The smell of burnt pee and poop filled the air.
“Say goodbye to your clothes!” the girls told us.
“Are we gonna have to go around dressed like you girls?” DJ asked.
“You boys?! NEVER! We’d have a big mess on our hands if that were the case!” the brunette girl said.
“Okay, boys, come with us,” the girls told us. They led us into another room where there were several shower stalls. With our hands and feet still in restraints, the girls turned on the water for us and scrubbed our bodies clean. The blonde girl spent a lot of time cleansing my asshole and my crotch, periodically returning her attention to my erect dick. DJ’s girl was doing the same to him. He, too, maintained an erection as the brunette girl prodded and probed his butt, cleaning stool out of his rectal cavity.
Once the shower was finished the girls dried us off and directed us to yet another room. The room looked somewhat like a hospital room where they performed operations. The usual array of medical supplies and cabinets surrounded us. There were four beds in the room. First, they had us step on a scale to get our weights. Next, they measured our heights, our waistlines and then they took several other measurements and wrote these numbers on a sheet.
Next, I was told to lie down on one while DJ was to lie down on the one next to me. The girls then strapped us down. Once again I was scared. “What are they going to do to us now?!” As I lay there in the quiet room all kinds of frightening scenarios ran through my mind. A moment later a team of women dressed in scrubs came into the room. One of them acted as a nurse. She took our temperature, blood pressure, checked our heart rates (mine must have been going 180 beats per minute!) and other vitals. We were each hooked up to EKG units, beeping in time with our rapidly thumping hearts.
“Are we in a hospital?” I asked the woman who connected an IV unit to my hand. A moment later I felt myself become drowsy as a mild sedative was delivered to my bloodstream. I could barely talk at that point. If she had answered, I was too groggy to understand what she might have said. A moment later a strong dose of anesthesia was pumped into my veins. At that point everything went black.
CHAPTER 3
I must have been asleep for hours. As the anesthetic wore off I slowly reawakened. My body felt so limp, so weak. My vision was blurry and I could hardly remember what was going on before I got knocked out. At first I thought that I had been in a dream, but within a few minutes everything around me was much too real to be a dream. As my memory gradually returned to me I tried to remember the basics such as my name, date of birth, my address and phone number, my email address, the names of the people in my family and friends, the name of my school, who the members of my favorite rock groups were and the titles of their CDs and songs, etc. Once I was certain that I had that information intact once again I thought back upon the day’s events: the two women in black at the door who abducted us from our home, the tearful goodbye to my mother and sister Patti (yes, I missed her, believe it or not), the white van, the long ride to some mysterious institution whose location was never determined or revealed to me, the stinky, messy pee and poop accidents DJ and I had in our pants, the heavy iron doors, the long, dim hallway, the girls clad in stringy black thongs who stripped us of our clothes and burned it, the showers and the enema-like probing of our rectal cavities, and finally, the women in scrubs who put us out for a few hours.
I had no idea what time of day it was or even if it was the same day as when I went out. I continued trying to assess the situation DJ and I were in, and how we could get out of it. As I felt my muscles regain their ability to move I tried to shift my body. As I did this I felt soreness around my butthole and in my groin. There was also a strange stinging sensation on the back of my neck. When I tried to move my legs I felt something very thick in between them, like someone had wedged a pillow into my crotch. I lifted my head and noticed that I had a short plain white T-shirt on. As I looked down towards my crotch I realized what was creating the bulky feeling between my legs. Someone had put diapers on me while I was zonked out! Lots of diapers! I could see several layers as I looked down at my chest. As I looked at the massive bunches of white cloth bunched up between my legs I was reminded of the time when I was eight years old and DJ was five. After DJ and I both had a bout of diarrhea and failed to make it to the toilet, my Mom made us wear three dozen pairs of underwear each! She made us go around like this for an entire week, not letting us use the toilet; wearing pants was out of the question, of course. Patti, of course, was very amused by the sight of her two brothers wearing lots of underwear for diapers and she took lots and lots of pictures to forever document and relive the moment (and later, as it turned out, to scan the photos to show people on Myspace years later). We later found out it was her idea to do this since one of her friends had a brother who was routinely punished this way for not making it to the toilet and for just about everything else he did wrong.
These diapers, however, were much thicker than all that underwear we had on. The diapers felt like they were over 100 layers thick! (I had no idea how many layers there were, but it sure felt like a hundred layers) As I looked down I was astonished by how high up the diapers came on my body. The top of the diapers came up past my stomach, just a couple inches below my chest. The white shirt I had on was cut short, just long enough to reach the top of my diapers. The shirt was even pinned to the diapers. At the sides of the massive diapers were several large devices that resembled diaper pins but were made of heavy steel and appeared to have some kind of locking mechanism on them. Whoever diapered me meant some serious business and didn’t want me to try taking them off.
Over the diapers was a large pair of heavy plastic pants. They were translucent and they featured a wide, strong elastic waistband, much like the underwear DJ and I wore (it even had the colored stripes). Beneath the plastic pants was a small black box that looked somewhat like a pager. What it was for I had no idea.
As I scooted around some more I felt a familiar sensation beneath my butt. There was a sticky, gooey feeling that coated my buttocks completely. I had shit in these diapers already! I couldn’t really tell whether it was sweat or urine, but I realized the front of my diapers was wet, too. If Mom sent us to this place to get diapered for having poop accidents she was sure taking things to the extreme.
A couple minutes later I heard a beeping sound coming from DJs bed. I managed to turn my head enough to see him. He had also been diapered while he was asleep. It wasn’t until looking at him that I realized just how thick and enormous our diapers were! I could see layers upon layers of fabric bulging out from his crotch. A moment later I heard another beep. This time I saw a green light blinking beneath DJs plastic pants. The light and the beeping sound came from the pager-like device attached to the top of his diapers. At that moment I felt another discharge of excrement shoot out of my butt and into my ultra thick diapers. At this moment the device attached to my body beeped, though on mine a red light came on. The pitch of the beep was lower, too. I didn’t even know I had to go. I had no warning at all and the poop just came out with no muscular contractions to hold it back.
“I hope this is only temporary,” I thought to myself. I looked over at DJ again to see if he was awake. His head was turned away from me. I then noticed that on his neck there was a prominent black mark. I couldn’t really tell what it was, but I saw the initials C.R.I.B. There were some other things that I couldn’t make out.
“DJ?” I said in a weak, strained voice. “You awake?”
He just groaned and grunted. The beeper device went off again. His, too, beeped at the lower tone and the red light was glowing. Right away the green light came on with the higher-pitched beep.
“Hello? Can someone hear me?” my voice cracked as I hoped to get someone’s attention, and more importantly, an explanation for what was going on. I still wasn’t sure if the women or the girls had something more in mind for us before this was all over with, so once again I felt scared.
“Kevin?” I heard DJ moan a few minutes later.
“DJ?” I said. “How do you feel?”
“Like shit,” he managed to utter. “Where are we?”
“Same place we were before they knocked us out, I guess,” I said.
“I feel like someone cut my asshole out with a knife,” DJ said. “My balls hurt, too. Ow, and there’s something’s on my neck! Oww!”
“I wish I knew what the hell they were trying to do to us, but I hope we can get out of this fucking hellhole,” I said.
“Holy shit!” DJ exclaimed as he sat up. “I’ve got diapers on! Oww!”
“Join the club,” I said.
“Why are we wearing diapers?” he asked.
“That’s what I’d like to know.”
“These are awfully big and thick diapers,” DJ said as I ran his hands over the massive bulk. His beeper device went off again with the green light.
“What’s that black thing?” he asked.
“DJ, you know as much as I do, and I don’t know a damn thing, other than that we’ve been put into diapers and we’re stuck in some prison-like institution.”
“You think Mom sent us here because we poop our pants a lot?” DJ asked.
“I’m beginning to think that was the reason,” I said. “If that’s the case, then she’s taking it a little too far.”
“You think we’ll get to leave this place?” DJ asked.
“I hope so, I really fucking hope so. If nothing else I hope there’s more to it than just lying here strapped to a bed in thick diapers shitting and pissing ourselves!”
A few minutes later the one of the members from the medical staff came into the room. She was the first person we had seen smiling sincerely.
“Good day, boys,” one of them said. “How are you feeling?”
“What do you think?” I asked her.
“You’re both alert, that’s a good start,” she said.
“What’s with the diapers?!” I demanded to know. “For that matter, why the fuck are we here?!”
“Calm down. You boys will find out during your initiation,” she said.
“Why can’t someone just tell us now?!” I cried. “I wish I had known about this shit beforehand!”
“All your questions will be answered by the end of the day,” the lady said. “Just relax, you’ll be fine.”
“Speaking of day, what day is it?” I asked her.
“Sunday,” she said.
“And what time is it?” I asked.
“7:43 AM,” she replied as she looked at her watch.
“How long were we out?”
“Oh, I’d say twelve hours, give or a take a few,” she said.
“Can you tell us what we’re going to do next?” I asked.
“First, we’re going to check all your vital stats, and then you’ll be moved to the recovery room.”
“So is this place a hospital, a prison— just what is this place?” I asked the lady.
“It’s an institution; that’s all I can really tell you before the initiation,” she said.
I figured there was no use trying to get any more information out of her, even though she was actually friendly. She then proceeded to check the usual things a nurse checks: blood pressure, pulse, temperature, etc. She did the same for DJ.
“Okay, boys, we’re going to move you into your cell now,” the nurse said.
“Our cell?”
“You could call it your room if you’d rather do that,” she said. “But we always call them cells around here.”
“So, it’s like, you know, a prison cell?” I asked.
“It has a locking door on it, and you can’t open it from the inside unless you have a pass/access card, which only the girls and adult staff carry,” she said.
“So this is a prison!” I said. “I knew it!”
“It’s only a prison if you want to think it’s a prison!” the nurse said. “Depending on how well you adapt, it could be paradise for you boys! It’s all up to you boys to decide what this place is to you.”
Two different girls, also clad in stingy black thongs came into the room a moment later to wheel our beds out. As we entered the hallway I saw a boy who looked to be about eight years old being escorted by a girl. The boy was also wearing several super thick white diapers while the girl had on the seemingly prerequisite “uniform” consisting of what might as well have been a single black thread running through her butt crack. The boy could barely walk in the massive diapers he had on. His wrists were shackled in handcuffs behind his back and he was tethered to the girl by a short length of chain. As we entered a wider hallway we saw more boys in super thick white diapers being escorted by thong-clad girls. The hallway was long and wide with several doors along each side. Each door had a narrow pane of glass with a wire mesh embedded in it, much like what I had seen on the classroom doors in school. We entered an elevator and went up to another floor, where we went down another long, wide hallway. When we reached “Cell 328” the girl opened the heavy steel door with the card dangling around her neck.
“Welcome to your cell, boys,” she said as she and the other girl wheeled us into the room. We were unstrapped from the beds and placed into metal cages with a mattress, blankets and pillows. They looked like cribs with a locking top on them. While our legs and wrists were finally freed from the restraints, were now locked inside metal cages like zoo animals.
“Now you boys can jack off!” the red-haired girl said with a big smile. “Need some help?”
“”Not now,” I grumbled.
“I’ll take that as a ‘later’,” she said with an even bigger smile.
“Do we have so sit in these cages?” I pleaded.
“Not cages, cribs,” the girl corrected.
“Al right, cribs!” I said. “When will initiation be?”
“Later today,” she said. “For now, you’re going to need some time to recover, and then later today you will go to the initiation,” the red-haired girl told us. The other girl was setting up a TV and a DVD player that had been brought into the room.
“You guys can watch a movie until then,” she said.
“Movies?” I thought. Maybe this place wasn’t going to be quite so bad after all.
“Do we get to pick the movie?”
“No, but it’s a special movie,” she said.
“What’s so special about it?” I asked.
“You’ll see,” she said. The girl bent over to start the DVD player, giving DJ and me a nice view of her ass and the centimeter-wide strip of fabric that separated her butt cheeks. She did this as if to purposely show us her ass. Every time someone bent over I expected them to fart, but she never did. As she bent over and showed us her butt cheeks I felt my penis stiffen up. At the same time the box beeped a different tone yet. A blue LED light came on, this time with a series of beeps in an ascending tone. DJ’s unit also lit up in blue and green at the same time.
“I just peed again,” DJ said.
“Is your dick stiff, too?” I asked.
“Yeah, but it hurts, too,” he said.
“It’ll get better,” the girl said as she stood between us and ran each of her hands over the tops of our diapers simultaneously. “Enjoy the movie!” she then shut the doors to our cages, dimmed the light and closed the heavy metal door to the room. The movie then started.
(DESCRIPTION OF MOVIE DETAILS AS SEEN
BY KEVIN FOLLOWS)
The opening screen showed a graphic of a diapered boy and
the letters “C.R.I.B.” It didn’t tell us what these letters stood for, though.
The next screen contained a scrolling disclaimer superimposed over a
dimmed-faded version of the insignia:
THE FOLLOWING PRESENTATION CONTAINS GRAPHIC IMAGES
OF BODILY WASTES, INCIDENTAL NUDITY AND MODERATE VIOLENCE (SPANKING). IT IS
INTENDED FOR VIEWING BY MEMBERS OF C.R.I.B. ONLY. IT IS NOT INTENDED FOR
Then the movie itself started. Its title was “The Incredible Bulk”. The opening
credits followed:
Starring
JOSH RYERSON (age 8)
CHERI RYERSON (age 11)
KATHLEEN & DOUGLAS RYERSON
So far it looked like any other movie. It was well-produced
and the music sounded like any other family fare movie. Whatever it was, it
certainly had nothing to do with the Incredible Hulk. The opening scene
presented an establishing shot of a suburban street lined with mature trees,
kids playing out in the street riding their bikes. The camera then swept down
and zoomed in on one house, with the scene closing in on the front door.
The next scene showed a blonde boy and a red-haired girl
playing a video game. In the middle of the game the girl hit the pause button.
“What did you do that for?” the boy (Josh) asked his sister
(Cheri).
“Duh! I need to go to the bathroom,” she
said. She then got up from the floor. The camera showed her from behind donning
blue jeans. She walked down the hallway and then opened a door leading to the
bathroom. The next scene showed a close-up of the doorknob with her hand
locking the door.
I thought the action would return to the boy, but the movie
proceeded to show the girl unfastening her pants from behind and pulling them down,
revealing her panties, but only briefly. A teasingly short glimpse of the top
of her butt was shown before the next shot, which showed her pulling her
panties down past her knees with just her legs in the frame. Next the camera
showed her naked hip from the side sitting down on the toilet, careful to not
expose her genitals. Another shot showed her ankles with her pants and her
panties pulled down, zooming in on the narrow crotch of her skimpy underpants. With
this scene still in frame the initial sounds of peeing and pooping into a
toilet bowl were then heard before the scene cut back to the boy waiting out in
the living room for his sister.
Josh was shown wearing shorts, not the shorts that go to the
knee, but real actual shorts. He put his hand over his crotch and then was
shown sitting on his heel.
“Damn, I need to go to the bathroom, too,” Josh quietly said
to himself. In the meantime he had switched over to the satellite TV where he
caught the latter half of a diaper commercial. The diaper commercial showed an
older boy, about 7 or eight years old, donning a very thick and high-rising
plain white diaper which looked to be made of cloth. It was an ad for “Thickies Diapers”, which I presumed to be a fictitious
diaper brand. The voiceover in the ad said, “Thickies—
because your butt doesn’t have a pause button.”
The action then cut back to the scene of Cheri sitting on
the toilet now reaching for the toilet paper. A close-up of her retrieving
several squares was shown. Certainly they wouldn’t show her wiping her butt,
would they?! (the disclaimer did state that scenes of
bodily wastes would be shown, after all). Next, the scene went back to the boy,
who was now squirming and complaining that he needed to use the toilet, too. He
then got up and ran to the bathroom door. He tried to open it, but it was
locked. He desperately banged on the door.
“What?!” Cheri shouted in an annoyed tone as
the camera cuts to a shot of her from the chest up, looking towards the
bathroom door.
“I need to go to the bathroom!” Josh cried.
“I’ll be done in a minute! Hold on!”
“I can’t!” Josh bellowed through the closed door. “I really gotta…” (scene cut to rear view of
Josh outside bathroom door with change of sound accordingly) “…go bad!” Josh
then banged on the door some more, showing alternating close-ups of the door’s
corner rattling from both sides of it.
“You’re gonna have to wait!” Cheri
was heard from inside the bathroom.
Desperate, Josh then ran back up the hall, through the
living room and into the kitchen towards the back door with his hand over his
crotch, a sign his mother (Kathleen) picked up on that he needed to go to the
bathroom. Alternating shots of him from in front, behind and to the side were
shown.
“Where are you going in such a rush?” Josh’s mother asked
him.
“I gotta go to the bathroom and
Cheri’s hogging it!”
“Just hold it, Josh!” his mother said, exasperated.
“I can’t!” he whined as he started to head out to the back
yard.
“Oh no you don’t, mister!” his mom said as she blocked the
door. “You wait your turn and use the toilet like a civilized human being, young man!”
The next scene showed Cheri flushing the toilet and reaching
for her panties to pull them back up. Having stood up from the toilet, the
camera focused closely on her bare butt, again showing the cleft of her
buttocks for a quarter of a second as she quickly pulled her panties into
place. She pulled them up high enough to give herself a wedgie.
The camera remained fixed on this scene for two or three seconds as it zoomed
in closely on her lower buttocks and the crevice created by her self-induced wedgie. The next scene showed her pulling her panties out
of her butt crack, again with a wide shot and then a close-up. Finally, she
refastened her jeans. She then walked over to the sink to wash her hands.
The next scene showed Josh banging loudly on the door again.
“Cheri! I need to go now!” he shouted.
“I’m not done, Josh!” Cheri shouted as the camera showed
a close-up of her soaping up her hands.
The next scene cut to Josh, who was shown crossing his legs.
Next, a large wet spot suddenly appeared on the front of his shorts. The spot
quickly expanded, and a moment later pee was dripping out of the leg opening of
his shorts and down his legs and onto the floor. The next scene showed Josh
from behind. A loud, wet fart sound emanated from his butt and it, too, sported
an expanding wet spot. This progressed to scenes of wet fecal matter dripping
out of his shorts, leaving streaks of brown on his legs, making a mess on the
floor.
Cheri then came out of the restroom.
“Okay, Josh, your tu— Josh, did
you piss and shit yourself again?”
“I told you I had to really go bad!”
“MOM! He did it again!” Cheri shouted loudly.
(END OF DESCRIPTION OF MOVIE DETAILS,
MORE TO COME LATER)
“This is weird,” I commented to DJ.
“I’ll say,” DJ agreed. Being that we were locked into cages, we had no choice but to continue watching the movie, which proceeded to get weirder.
CHAPTER 4
DJ and I continued to watch the movie. What else were we going to do since we were locked into cages?
(DESCRIPTION OF MOVIE DETAILS AS SEEN
BY KEVIN FOLLOWS)
Cheri tattled on her little brother and reported his pee and
poop accident to their mother. She appeared on the scene and confronted Josh,
who was desperately trying in vain to conceal the obvious evidence of his
accident.
“Josh! You naughty little boy!” she scolded. “You remember
what I said would happen next time you peed or pooped your pants! Looks like
you did both!”
“It was an accident!” Josh pleaded. “I didn’t mean to!”
“It doesn’t matter!” his mother shouted. She then grabbed
Josh’s wrist and dragged him to his bedroom. The camera cut to a shot of Cheri,
who was grinning.
The next scene showed Josh being dragged into his bedroom.
Josh was begging and pleading for mercy but his mother would have none of it.
She knelt down and reached for the fly on Josh’s shorts and pulled the two
sides apart, snapping off the buttons in the process. A shot cut to the side,
showing one of the buttons flying through the air and hitting the wall and
landing in the corner. Next, his shorts were abruptly yanked down, showing his
soiled white briefs. These, too, were abruptly yanked off (shown in close-up
fashion), exposing his poop-covered naked behind on which the camera focused
intently. While all of this was going on, Josh’s mother yelled, “Your clothes
are RUINED!”
“I’m sorry,” Josh sobbed. “You can wash them, right?”
“Wash them? I’m sick
of washing soiled clothes!” Josh’s mother said. She then ordered Josh to bend
over and grab his ankles. She produced a rope and tied his hands in place,
working quickly to ensure that he would not be able to move his hands. Poor
Josh was petrified as he knew what was coming up, especially when his mother
called for Cheri to bring the paddle. Cheri gladly and dutifully obliged and
brought the requested punitive instrument to her mother and wasted no time in
doing so. The paddle was about six inches wide, two feet long and half an inch
thick with a rubber grip and a strap. Holes were bored into it to decrease wind
resistance. Several quick-cut shots showed the paddle from various angles.
Josh’s mother slapped the paddle over her hand, making a
loud smack sound. Josh was cowering and cringing in fear, shaking profusely.
“Can I watch?” Cheri gleefully asked her mother.
“Of course you can,” she said. At this moment the spanking
began. The first shot showed the camera trained on Josh’s buttocks as the
paddle’s first three swats struck his behind. Another shot cut to Josh’s face,
as he was crying in despair. The camera then did quick-cut shots at different
angles each time the paddle struck. Every few scene cuts showed Josh’s face,
then his mother’s face, then Cheri’s, and then his mother’s hand on the handle
of the paddle. A full-body shot then followed, zooming in on Josh’s bare
buttocks, reddened from the spanking. A dissolve showed his buttocks being
noticeably redder than before.
The next shot showed Cheri talking on the phone with the
sound of the paddle slapping Josh’s butt in the background. Cheri was inviting
her friend Lori over. The scene only showed Cheri’s 0side of the conversation.
“Not yet, but by the time you get here he will be!”…”Sure,
bring him over!”…”Really?”…”That I gotta see!”…”Okay…see
you when you get here!”
The camera then returned to a fading, zooming shot of Josh,
still getting spanked. The fade-in showed Josh’s reddened buttocks close up and
then zoomed out to show him standing in the corner standing upright, but with his
hands still tied behind his back, so as to not rub his buttocks and alleviate
the pain.
Meanwhile, the doorbell rang and Cheri answered it. As
expected, it was her friend Lori and her little brother Ben in tow. Ben was six
years old. Ben was shown hiding behind Lori, who scolded him and told him to
get out in front of her. Slowly, Ben emerged from behind the jeans-clad legs of
his heavyset long-haired sister. He was wearing dozens of pairs of boys’ white
briefs. A ring of densely placed safety pins encircled his body where the pins
had been inserted into the uppermost waistbands of his briefs and his shirt,
which had been cut short to maximize the exposure of his underwear. Immediately Cheri began laughing.
“Oh my God!” Cheri laughed. “Look at all that
underwear!”
“It’s his DIAPERS!” Lori explained.
“Boys— it figures!” Cheri remarked. “You brought him over
there like that, without his pants?”
“Are you kidding? You think pants could possibly fit him?
Besides, I want everyone to see that my little brother can’t hold his poop and
therefore has to wear DIAPERS!”
“Why didn’t you just put him in diapers, you know, real diapers?” Cheri asked Lori. “Josh
is going to be in diapers soon, you know.”
“Sometimes you have to make do, when, well, your brother makes doo!”
The two girls enjoyed a hearty laugh at the joke. Ben, of course, did not join
in their laughter.
The next scene showed Josh’s and Cheri’s mother folding
several diapers and putting them in a stack. A time lapse showing dissolves
between the scenes showed the stack getting taller with each diaper added. Once
all of the diapers were folded Josh was called over to lie down on the floor. A
shot from behind showing his badly reddened buttocks reminded the viewer of the
severe spanking he had just received.
By this time Josh was very subdued and submissive as he lay
naked before his mother and sister. A generous coating of baby powder was
applied to his genitals and his butt. The next sequence of images showed
various quick-cut shots of diapers being applied to Josh’s lanky body. These
shots included a rapid succession of pins being fastened and diaper layers
being added to the diapers already put on. The action then paused to show Josh
in very thick diapers.
“Are we done?” Josh asked.
“Do you see more diapers in the stack?” Cheri asked Josh.
“Yeah,” he replied.
“So what do you think; are we done?” Cheri asked.
“No, I guess we’re not,” Josh said as Cheri continued adding
diaper after diaper, making the stack of white fabric become ever so thick. By
the time the final scene of the diapering was shown Josh had on an enormous
amount of material.
“Okay, Josh, get up so we can put your plastic pants on!”
his mother told him. Josh tried to get up, but his thick diapers greatly
hampered his mobility. As he made his way up on his feet several shots were
shown to point out the magnitude of his diapers, most notably from the rear
where his diapers stood out the most prominently. Cheri and her friend Lori
stood back and stared with utter amusement, while Ben watched in shock. Seeing
his abjectly horrified expression, Lori turned to Josh and said, “You’ll be
wearing them, too, boy!”
Josh’s mother than put three pairs
of plastic pants on him. Each pair was shown being snapped on with the elastic waistband
snapping loudly.
The next scene showed Josh’s mother and sister following him
to his room where he was told to go. Josh was then told to sit on his bed and
wait while watching his mom and his sister gather up all of his pants and toss
them into a box. Josh began crying again as he helplessly watched his mother
and sister dispose of every pair of pants and shorts to his name.
“Don’t throw out my pants!” Josh exclaimed.
“They are no longer your pants!” his mother told him
sternly.
“What am I gonna wear?!” Josh
cried.
“Same thing you’re wearing now!” Cheri replied.
“Will I ever get them back?” Josh asked.
“Never!” Cheri replied. “This is it, Josh,
you’re stuck in diapers, FOREVER!”
The next scene showed Cheri and her mom carrying the box of
pants into the woods. Actually, Cheri was carrying the box while her mother was
carrying a gasoline can. Lori was also carrying a box, which contained Ben’s
old pants. Once they found an open space amongst the dense trees the pants were
put into a pile. Both Josh’s and Ben’s pants were combined. A scene cut to Josh
and Ben showed them looking at each other in disbelief.
Next, a generous amount of gasoline was poured over the
pants. In fact, the entire one-gallon contents of the can had been used.
“Okay, everyone, stand back!” the mother warned as she
tossed a lit match onto the pile, thereby setting its contents instantly
ablaze. With the bright orange glow of the fire, shots of everyone’s faces were
shown, ending with Josh and Ben, crying as they realized that they would never
wear pants again.
A dissolve into the closing scene showed the smoldering pile
of ashes representing the boys’ pants in the foreground with the family walking
away in the background through the smoke. Two large white blobs accompanied by
skinny bare legs made the magnitude of the boys’ diapers quite obvious. The camera
then panned up from the ground, following the smoke as the tall stands of dense
timber gave way to the sky before showing shots of boys using the toilet and
trying to wipe their butts, along with pictures of skid-marked tighty whities briefs. . A message
in bold red lettering then scrolled by, being narrated by a boy who sounded
like he was about nine or ten years old:
THE
PRECEDING PRODUCTION WAS BASED ON A TRUE-LIFE EVENT. EVERYTHING YOU JUST SAW
REALLY HAPPENED AS IT WAS PRESENTED IN THIS FILM. EVERY DAY THOUSANDS OF BOYS
THROUGHOUT THE UNITED STATES AND THE REST OF THE WORLD SOIL THEIR PANTS AND
FAIL TO MAKE IT TO THE TOILET. MANY MORE BOYS DO NOT WIPE THEIR BUTTS PROPERLY
IF AT ALL. ONLY 6% OF BOYS AGES 6 TO 12 WHO ARE EXPECTED TO USE THE TOILET CONSISTENTLY
WIPE THEIR BUTTS PROPERLY. 24% OF BOYS ONLY DO A “FAIR” JOB OF WIPING WHILE 49%
WERE RATED AS POOR. 21% OF BOYS DO NOT WIPE AT ALL.
17% OF ALL
BOYS AGES 6 TO 12 SOIL AT LEAST ONE NEW PAIR OF UNDERWEAR WITHIN THE FIRST WEEK
AND 28% SOIL AT LEAST ONE PAIR OF UNDERWEAR WITHIN TWO WEEKS. WITHIN A MONTH
OVER 50% OF NEWLY PURCHASED BOYS’ UNDERWEAR BECOMES INDELIBLY SOILED WITH FECAL
MATTER. OVER 95% OF BOYS’ UNDERWEAR WILL EVENTUALLY HAVE SKIDMARKS IN IT. AT
ANY GIVEN TIME OF ANY GIVEN DAY AT LEAST ONE BOY PAST THE AGE OF SIX SOMEWHERE
IS POOPING HIS PANTS. MANY BOYS POOP THEIR PANTS DELIBERATELY AND MANY MORE PEE
THEIR PANTS, SOMETIMES ON PURPOSE. THOSE WHO DO MAKE IT TO THE TOILET OFTEN
LEAVE A MESS FROM POOR AIM.
YOU ARE ONE OF THESE BOYS!
WHILE SOME
OF THESE BOYS ARE APPROPRIATELY PUNISHED WITH DIAPERS FOR THEIR POOR HYGIENE
AND CARELESS DISREGARD FOR THEIR OWN CLEANLINESS AND THE COMFORT OF THOSE
AROUND THEM, MANY OF THESE BOYS, UNFORTUNATELY, GO THROUGH BOYHOOD UNPUNISHED,
NEVER HAVING TO OWN UP TO THEIR INEXCUSABLE BEHAVIOR. OUR
EVERY BOY
WHO SOILS HIMSELF DOES NOT DESERVE TO WEAR PANTS OR DESERVE TO USE A TOILET. EVERY
BOY WHO POOPS HIS PANTS SHOULD BE KEPT IN DIAPERS PERMANENTLY IN THE MANNER AS SHOWN
IN THIS FILM. IF YOU ARE WATCHING THIS FILM YOU ARE ONE OF THESE BOYS (UNLESS
YOU’RE A GIRL WATCHING THIS).
The scene then faded out and then faded in to a series of
excerpts showing Josh doing various things around the house in just diapers and
a shirt. Several of the scenes showed Cheri and Lori prancing around in thongs
standing alongside the heavily diaper-clad boys. The text then read:
In Part 2
of “The Incredible Bulk” you will see how Josh and Ben adjust to living each
day wearing nothing but diapers.
At this point the movie ended. All I could think was, “Wow, what the fuck was that all about?!”
“What the hell was that?” I asked D.J.
“They must really want us to wear diapers,” DJ said.
“Unless we can find a way to escape this place, it looks like we will,” I sighed. DJ and I continued to talk about the movie. We both agreed that the vivid spanking scenes were the most disturbing and difficult to watch. While we were watching the movie the beeper devices went off. It had finally occurred to me that every time we peed the green light would turn on. Every time we pooped the red light would glow, and every time we had an erection the blue light would turn on. About ten minutes after the movie ended the same red-haired girl who had been in to start the movie entered the room.
“So what did you boys think of the movie?”
“Why does it show the boys in diapers and the girls in thongs?” I asked, though I had seen very little of the girls in thongs, mostly the girls who were in the facility.
“Because around here, all boys wear diapers and all girls wear thongs,” she said.
“But why?” I asked. Before she could answer I said, “never mind, I’ll find out at the initiation, right?”
“You’re learning fast, boy,” she said.
“Can we get something to eat or drink?” DJ asked the girl.
“You boys will have to wait a few hours before you can eat; it’s part of the recovery process.”
“Recovery? From what?” I asked.
“You’ll find out—“ she started before I cut her off.
“— I know, at initiation,” I finished. “Can we have something to drink?”
“All I can give you is water for now,” she said.
“We’ll take it,” I said. “How about you, DJ?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m thirsty.” The girl left our “cell” (room?) and said she would be back.
“This place is a little strange, but maybe it isn’t quite so bad,” I told DJ.
“I don’t know. I have a feeling they’re just trying to put at ease so we won’t get too suspicious,” he said.
“It’s pretty obvious this place is meant for boys to wear diapers and for girls to wear thongs,” I said.
“So why don’t the girls wear diapers, too? And why are girls in charge of the boys? If we’re here because we pooped our pants, then, I mean, girls sometimes poop their—“
Suddenly, an earsplitting, loud alarm outside the door sounded. Through the thick glass pane I could see several red emergency lights rotating. Buzzers went off and xenon strobe lights rapidly flashed.
“Shit! You think there’s a fire?!” DJ said, panicking as he tried in vain to escape from his “crib.”
“I don’t know! If there is, how do we get out of here?! Help!” I screamed, also trying to escape from my crib/cage. The alarm continued for several minutes. The girl had come back, not at all concerned that the building might be on fire.
“Get us out of here! The place is gonna burn down!” I shouted, hoping to be heard over the cacophonous noise. Calm as she could be, the girl pressed a few buttons behind a key-locked panel in the wall and shut the alarm off.
“So what was that? A false alarm or something?” I asked her.
“No, it was real, all right,” she said.
“Was there an escape?” I asked, thinking that someone might have managed to bust out of this place.
“You boys got a little taste of what happens when you disobey some of the rules here. You’re lucky your shock probes haven’t been activated yet.”
“Wha..?! What did we do?!” DJ asked.
“Did you say ‘shock probes’?” I asked.
“Yes, shock probes. As you will learn in initiation, you boys are all monitored 24 hours a day, seven days a week, 365 days a year. Everything you say and everything you do can be seen and heard. We know when you shit and piss, and we know when you fart, and we know how much, too. If you say or do anything that violates the rules, an alarm is sounded, and sometimes a shock is delivered to your bodies.”
“What did we say?” I asked.
“Yeah, we just wanted some water!” DJ added.
“You must have said something that is forbidden,” she said. “Do you remember what you were talking about before the alarms went off?”
“We were talking about why we’re here,” I said. “Is that against the rules?”
“Depends on what you said,” the girl replied. “I’ll check with the monitoring staff to see what set it off.”
“We were just talking about why all the boys are in diapers and why the girls wear thongs, I mean, why don’t the girls wear d—“ I said, getting cut off before I could finish my sentence.
“That’s just how it is and that’s how things are run here. As you spend more time here you will learn why things are done the way they are done. Be careful what you say. And remember, we girls do have complete authority and control over you boys. You’re lucky I’m being nice. Not all us girls are so nice. Oh, and here’s your water, boys.”
The girl handed us each a container
of water through a small hatch on the crib/cage. The containers were baby bottles!
“Do we have to drink out of these?” DJ asked as he held his bottle and examined it skeptically.
“Yes, you do,” she said. “You’ll get to drink more and eat by this evening,” she said. “How about I put another movie on? What do you want to watch?”
“Uhh, Home Alone 2?” DJ suggested.
“We have it,” the girl said.
“Nah, maybe later,” I said, curious to see which other movies were offered. Whatever it could be, it could not be as weird as “The Incredible Bulk”.
“Whatever you choose, boys, a couple things. All the movies we have show boys in them. All the boys in these movies have been digitally altered to appear to be wearing diapers.”
“You mean, all of the movies?”
“Every one we’ve gotten a hold of,” the girl said. “What else would you like to watch?”
“How about ‘Liar Liar?’ I said. I was kind of curious to see what Justin Cooper would look like in a digitally-enhanced diapered state. The red-haired girl made a point to show off her nearly naked butt as she bent over to put the DVD in the player before leaving the room. Just as expected, Max (Justin Cooper) appeared in thick diapers and a short white T-shirt and nothing else throughout the entire movie. He, too, appeared to have a beeper device connected to his diapers that went off randomly, apparently to suggest he was frequently peeing and pooping in his diapers and also having frequent erections, just like our own devices.
Once that movie was over I felt like taking a nap, as did DJ. When I woke up again I had no idea what time of day it was (or night, perhaps?) as there was no clock in the room, no windows to even see whether or not there was any daylight. When I woke up I felt a huge mess of shit in my diapers and I really stunk, too. And I had done it in my sleep! I also felt quite aroused. I don’t know why, but as I thought about the lumps of crap packed between my butt cheeks and the dense, heavy solid layers of white cloth comprising my massive diapers, I got erect. This, of course, caused the blue light on my black box to glow and beep. Another big squirt of shit shot itself out of my butt, triggering the red light. At this point my dick was just begging to be stroked, but there was no way I was ever going to get to it being buried so deeply beneath all these diapers I had on. I tried to think about boring, mundane things to make the erection subside, but I could not take my mind off of my shit-covered ass and the sight and smell of my diapers. I tried my best to massage my dick, which I could not even feel through the stacks of cloth, they were so thick. I massaged the bulky pack of cotton between my legs and in minutes I had one powerful ejaculation! At this point a white light came on and an ascending series of tones played on the box.
“Ohh, shit!” I said to myself as I lay there and savored the pulsating orgasm that was still flooding my body.
“What happened?” I heard DJ moan as he awakened.
“I just had the most mind-blowing orgasm of my life,” I told him.
“How?” he asked. “How can you jack off with those diapers on?”
“It can be done, believe me; that shit was intense!”
A moment later the door opened and the red-haired girl who had been in earlier appeared.
“Enjoying yourself, eh?” she commented.
“Well, I…”
“I know exactly what you did,” she said. “You boys are always being monitored; you have no privacy here.”
“So you saw me…?” I started to ask her.
“Saw you jacking off? Yes, I did! I heard you, too. You were having one hell of an orgasm in those DIAPERS, boy! I like a boy who loves to cum in his diapers like you do.”
“But if I didn’t have diapers on, I wouldn’t have,” I said.
“Better get used to it, because you’ll never touch your bare dick again,” she said as she approached my crib/cage. With a set of handcuffs in her hand she told me to stick my wrists into the slot where she could attach them to me. She then told me to climb out of my crib/cage. I expected her to put ankle restraints on me, too, but when I asked her she just said, “When you try walking in those massive diapers, you’ll see that ankle restraints won’t be needed.”
She then released DJ from his crib/cage after she shackled his wrists up.
“Okay, boys, time for initiation!” she announced. Finally, I would learn what this whole place was about and why we were here! As she opened the door another black-thong-clad girl greeted us.
“Follow her, and I’ll follow you boys to look at your DIAPERED-UP BUTTS!” she said.
As I took my first few steps I realized just how incredibly thick these diapers really were. I could hardly walk in them!”
“You really expect me to walk in these diapers?” I asked the girls.
“You won’t get far if you don’t,” the front girl said.
“Yeah, you could always crawl, that way I can admire your DIAPERED BUTTS even more!” she said. While she walked behind us she took several pictures with a digital camera she had in her hand. When I turned around the red-haired girl said, “don’t turn around, just keep walking— er, waddling!”
DJ and I managed to waddle our way to the elevator where we got in with the two girls. We went down to the first floor and then were led down another hallway. We saw several other very thickly diapered boys all being escorted by thong-clad girls. It seemed we were all going to the same place, wherever it was.
We were led into a room and stood in line with about 30 or so other boys. At the front of the line was a camera and a blue drape for a background. Each boy was going to be photographed. As we entered we saw a red-haired boy standing in front of the blue drape. He was then told to turn around. Several pictures were taken of him from behind. Once he was finished the girl who was in charge of him led him off of the “stage” and into another room. Each boy who was photographed spent at least three minutes being photographed. This meant we had so stand in line for about 90 minutes to get our pictures taken.
While we stood in line I could constantly hear the other boys’ beeper boxes going off and lighting up. The line of boys standing and waiting to be photographed looked like a Christmas tree light string with all the red and green lights along with a few blue ones here and there. No white lights went on from what I could see. The smell of all the pee and poop was getting to be rather strong and there was little ventilation in the cramped room. While we waited in line we were given some papers to read. They were stories about boys who wear diapers. I figured we didn’t have anything else to do, so DJ and I both read the stories we were given. We were told to exchange stories when we were done and then pass them down to the boys behind us. Another fifteen boys had entered the line by the time DJ and I were close to the front.
Once it was my turn to be photographed I took my position as ordered in front of the blue drape. I had my cuffs removed for the time being. The girl (thong clad, of course) at the camera told me which poses to make. She had me do a lot of shots of being bent over, focusing on my diapered butt. She also got some shots of my crotch, plus a few close-ups. She even took a picture of the back of my neck. Once I was done being photographed I was led into the next room where the other boys were all seated, all of them reading what I presumed to be diaper stories. Several blue lights were glowing. I even saw one white light glowing as one boy (he looked about 13 or 14) who appeared to have been enjoying himself, recovering from an orgasm as he was breathing heavily and sweating. Apparently the white light on the black box was triggered by semen. The girls monitoring the room all applauded.
“Is this all there is to do here, read stories about diapered boys and watch movies that show boys in diapers?” I asked the red-haired girl.
“I wouldn’t complain,” she said. “At least we give you boys something to do,” she said as she handed me a thick packet of papers. “Besides, you’ll have plenty of other things to do while you’re here,” she said.
“These stories were all written by other diapered boys just like you, and someday you boys will be writing stories like this,” the girl added. About four minutes later DJ was led into the room and he took his seat next to me. He, too, was given a long story to read. His blue light went on and it stayed on for much of the time.
“What’s your story about?” I asked him.
“Don’t talk, just keep reading,” one of the girls told me. After another hour or so had passed we were all recuffed and led out of the room and down another hallway. We were then led into a darkened area. Only the glow of LED lights on black boxes broke the solid blackness. The girls who led us were all wearing night-vision goggles so that they and only they could see anything. Once again I was scared since I couldn’t see what was going on. Was this the “initiation” we had been told about? If I didn’t know better, it was beginning to seem more like a mass execution.
CHAPTER 5
There was no way to tell where we were, but the room we were in seemed large, open and spacious. The girls lined us up against a wall shoulder to shoulder. Once we were all in our places we stood there for several more minutes in total darkness and near silence. Only some distant green EXIT signs glowing in the distance broke the blackness. Finally, the lights went on, shining brightly into our eyes and blinding us as our eyes had adjusted to the nearly absolute pitch blackness. We found ourselves standing before a large audience of girls, dozens and dozens of them! All of them were nearly naked, wearing only their scanty black thongs. I’d never seen so much bare skin before in once place. The girls all cheered loudly and then began chanting “DIA-PER BOYS!...DIA-PER BOYS!...” as if it was some sort of rally.
A heavyset woman dressed in black pants and a black shirt then came out and spoke before the girls.
“Here they are, girls, the latest boys!” she announced. The girls then began cheering and chanting again. Once the commotion died down the lady turned to us and spoke:
“Boys, listen to me and don’t say a single word unless you are given permission to do so! Do I have all of your attention?”
Afraid to speak, we all stood still, frozen.
“I want an answer, boys!” she said.
“Yes,” we all said in unison.
“Good!” she said before beginning her lengthy speech to us boys.
“You boys now belong to an institution called the C.R.I.B.,” she started. On a series of flat-screen monitors in front of us on the floor we saw what looked to be a PowerPoint presentation. The opening slide showed the C.R.I.B. logo. It featured a blue silhouette of a boy’s head on a vertically elongated white diaper with the acronym “C.R.I.B.” beneath it. Behind us and above us was a large video screen, nearly as big as a Jumbotron, kind of like what you would see in a sports stadium. It projected the same presentation to the girls in the audience as what we could see on the smaller monitors in front of us. The next slide then appeared, revealing what C.R.I.B. stands for.
“C.R.I.B. stands for Corrective Reformation and Infantilization of Boys. So why are you boys here?” The spokeswoman then turned to the girls and said, “Tell them, girls!”
“BECAUSE YOU’RE BOYS!!!” they all screamed in unison.
“I can’t hear you!” the lady said.
“BECAUSE YOU’RE BOYS!!!” they all screamed again even louder.
“You heard them, it’s because you’re BOYS!” she said to us. “And around here, BOYS wear DIAPERS!”
The girls cheered again and then the rally speech continued:
“You boys standing here before all these girls all have one thing in common— aside from each of you having a penis and testicles, of course.” (Much laughter from the girls). “Because you are BOYS, you can’t be trusted to KEEP YOUR PANTS AND YOUR UNDERWEAR CLEAN! YOU CAN’T BOTHER TO WIPE YOUR BUTTS AFTER POOPING! IS THAT SO HARD, GIRLS?!”
“NO!!!” the girls all screamed.
“Show them what you mean, girls!”
The girls all stood up and turned their butts to us boys. From our distance their asses all looked completely naked. Even though each of them was wearing a black thong there was no way to see it in the dim light they were in contrast to the bright lights that shone down upon us. A series of spotlights than shone over the girls to give us a better view.
“Look at their butts, boys!” the woman told us. I was looking, as were the other boys. Many blue lights went off as a lot of boys were sexually aroused by the sight of dozens of girls’ bare butts. The girls giggled upon hearing this.
“Just as all you BOYS wear DIAPERS, the GIRLS all wear THONGS! Why, girls?”
“BECAUSE
WE’RE GIRLS!!!”
“I can’t hear you!” the lady said.
“BECAUSE WE’RE GIRLS!!!” they shrieked more loudly, loud enough to be ear-piercing.
“Right! And GIRLS WIPE THEIR BUTTS! That’s why they can wear thongs! That’s why they can be trusted to go around nearly naked the way they do! They do it because they can, and to make a point to you STINKY BOYS! If you BOYS went around like that, YOU WOULD ALL SHIT ALL OVER THE FLOOR!!!”
A round of cheers filled the room.
“To prove to you BOYS how much better GIRLS are at basic hygiene such as WIPING YOUR BUTT— something most of these girls learned before they were three—each and every one of you BOYS is going to go around and sniff every girls’ butt! Each of you will go up to every girl standing there, you will bend over, you will fully insert your nose in between her butt cheeks, and you will fully inhale! To make sure you do it right, the girls who led you in here will be overseeing you. This is the first stage of your initiation, boys. You will not get past this stage until all 42 of you boys have fully taken a whiff of all 52 girls’ butts here, including the eight girls who will be leading you through the procession. Therefore it is in your best interests to do it right the first time. The longer you take, the longer it will be before any of you get your diapers changed!”
“I couldn’t believe what was happening!” What the hell was this all about? No way was I going to sniff even one girl’s butt, let alone 52! Besides, even if these girls kept their asses as clean as they claimed to do, their butts could still stink from farting. At this moment we were all led out to the girls. Some sevenish-looking boy at the front of the line got to be the guinea pig, so to speak. Everyone was watching as he hesitantly stood before the first girl who looked to be about eight or nine.
“Don’t just stand there, boy, sniff her butt!” the girl in charge of him ordered him. He reluctantly bent down and put his nose to her buttocks.
“Stick your nose all the way in!” he was told. “You’re holding up 41 other boys, so you’d better get on with it.”
The boy winced as he took his first breath of derriere air.
“Did she stink?” he was asked.
“A little,” he replied.
“Wrong answer! Smell it again!” he was told by the buxom brunette girl who was leading him. Again, the poor kid could hardly muster up the courage to take another whiff, but he did.
“Now I am going to ask you again, does her butt stink?”
“No,” he said quietly.
“That’s better,” the girl said. “Repeat after me, ‘girls’ butts do not stink!”
/“Uh. girls’ butts do not stink,” he replied quietly.
“Louder!” the girl told him.
“Girls’ butts do not stink!” he repeated.
“No, I mean LOUDER!”
“GIRLS’ BUTTS DO NOT STINK!!!”
The girls all cheered as he said this.
“That’s better,” the girl told him. “Now move on to the next girl and do the same. You boys need to move quickly since we have a long ways to go.”
DJ and I were about halfway through the line. When it was my turn I approached the first of the 52 girls. She remained bent over with a big smile on her face as she and the other girls were obviously getting a great thrill out of this humiliating ordeal. The tall blonde girl who was leading our group told me to “get sniffing.”
There was a slight odor which I suspected was from recent flatulence, but it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. If anything, there was a soapy smell. One girl’s butt down, 51 girls’ butts to go, I thought to myself as I proceeded to the next girl. DJ was right behind me.
As I went through the line I sniffed butts of all sizes. Some of the girls were slender while others were quite fat. Most of them seemed to range in age from seven or eight to about sixteen, maybe seventeen. Most of the girls were white but there were a few Hispanic girls, too and one or two who seemed to be part Indian (native American). Their butts all smelled the same, though the fatter girls seemed to exude a little more odor. As we went along, I could see and hear several monitoring devices going off, many blue lights shining. In spite of my attempts to thwart such feelings, I was getting sexually aroused from sniffing girls’ butts, as was DJ. In fact, there was hardly a blue light that wasn’t glowing.
After we finished sniffing the 44 girls in the audience we had to go through and smell the butts of the eight girls who led us through the procession.
“Congratulations, boys, you have completed the first stage of your initiation,” the woman speaker told us as we returned to our positions along the wall.
“Now you boys know that girls and only girls can and do keep their butts clean. To prove that boys CAN’T keep their butts clean, all of you boys are going to turn around and bent over just like the girls did. Come on, boys, move it! The girls want to see some DIAPERED BOYS’ BUTTS!”
All of us turned around and faced the wall as told and then we all bent over. The girls screamed and cheered, chanting, “DIAPER THEIR BUTTS! DIAPER THEIR BUTTS!...”
The first boy in the group was told to go along the wall and sniff all 41 of our poopy butts. Obviously there was no way we could insert our noses in between the butt cheeks as we each had on a dense, solidly packed six inches or more of diaper material over our butts. Once he was finished sniffing, the second boy went through, and then the third, and so on. Once again it was my turn. Unlike the girls, every one of the boys stunk of shit. The boys seemed to range in age from six to about 13 or 14 and most of us were white with a couple Hispanic boys. Once I was finished I was nearly out of breath and tired of smelling shitty diapered boys’ butts. Once the last boy finished the girls cheered.
“Good job, boys! Now, did any of you boys NOT stink?!” All of us shook our heads. I figured most of us had been in diapers for several hours, so of course it was very likely that all of us would have had at least one bowel movement by now. The preceding exercises didn’t really prove anything and seemed to be meant only to humiliate us boys and to provide entertainment for the girls, especially when they all chanted, “BOYS’ BUTTS STINK!” over and over.
Next, all of us boys were directed to take our positions standing against the wall at the back of the “stage”. We were told to raise our arms straight up as high as we could stretch them and to leave them up. At this time the eight girls came through the line and shackled our wrists to a series of handcuffs that were mounted into the wall. As my wrists were locked into place my face was greeted by the girl’s ample breasts. Each set of handcuffs was attached to a sliding vertical bar that allowed the height to be adjusted. The purpose for this action, as it was explained to us, was so that we could not put our hands or arms in front of our diapers to hide them from the view of the girls in the audience; nor could we bend forward to conceal our diapers. A row of 42 boys all clad in gleaming plain white ultra-thick, high-rising diapers stood before the 52 girls watching and staring intently at us. The orientation presentation then began. We told to keep quiet or we’d be spanked before the entire group, and we were told to listen and pay attention to the slides on the computer screens, for there would be a test afterwards. In other situations such as this I would have thought they were kidding, but by now I was convinced that they were very serious about what they told us.
“Okay, boys, for the next hour you will be given a detailed presentation on why you’re here, what has happened to you since you were brought here, what is expected of you while you are here, and what will become of you by the time you leave here.”
For the next several hours (yes, hours, as it turned out) we had to stand there and listen to the lady speak to us while presenting us some PowerPoint slides as a visual aid. All the girls watching could see the presentation on the giant screen behind us, while we could see it on the monitors on the floor before us.
CHAPTER 6
The following is a series of excerpts from the speech as it was given
to us boys:
“Now
that you boys know where you all stand against the girls here, it is now time
for all of you to understand what this place is all about. You have all been
committed to this institution known as the C.R.I.B. C.R.I.B. stands for Corrective Reformation and Infantilization of Boys (the girls cheered).
“The
C.R.I.B. is an institution especially designed to discipline and to indoctrinate
young boys who, like yourselves, have demonstrated an inexcusable inability to properly handle the responsibilities of
using a toilet and keeping yourselves clean. Your parents sent you here
because, their having failed to teach
you boys the proper way to use a toilet and to keep yourselves clean and to
conduct yourselves in a mature and
responsible manner, they decided this— for many, a last resort— was the
best way, perhaps the only way to
deal with your accidents, your wiping problems, your soiled clothes, your
smelly laundry, your offensive odors, your utter apathy towards the cleanliness
of your bodies, your immaturity, and the embarrassment and shame you have all
brought upon your families because of your woefully inadequate hygiene.
“Since
each of you boys has proven himself to be incorrigible in the area of personal
hygiene, particularly with handling his bowel movements, our goal is not to
help you boys develop these skills. Believe me when I say that your parents
tried very hard to do this but failed, and it’s not their fault, but yours, for choosing to be ignorant and
uncaring of your responsibility to keep yourselves clean. All of you boys are
beyond any hope of ever mastering the simple task of wiping one’s butt and
knowing when to get to the toilet in the first place! (girls
cheered again). Your parents arranged to have us take you from your homes
without your prior knowledge of our arrival. We had to do it this way since we
know many of you boys would attempt to resist or escape otherwise.
“Your
parents have decided that you boys are unfit to live your lives as regular
children because of your woefully negligent toileting hygiene, and have decided
that you will be better off living as diaper boys. Now, when we say “diaper
boy”, we don’t just mean a boy who wears diapers. We mean boys whose lives will
be completely dedicated to and controlled by their diapers! Your parents’
decision to send you here was not an easy one. They put a great deal of thought
and consideration into sending you here and each one of them spoke to one of our
consultants before sending you here, so don’t think they made a—pardon the pun—
a rash decision to put you in diapers
permanently! Your parents paid more
to send you here than they would have spent sending you to an average
four-year-college. We’ll give your parents their money’s worth. Your parents
were fully aware of what would become of you once you were here— and what will
become of you once you leave.
“For the
next several months, you boys belong to us, the Girls. Every second of your
days here will be planned out and you will do everything we say you will do and only what we say you will do. Your every
word spoken and every action taken is recorded and monitored. You will have no
privacy and you will have no contact with the outside world from which you came
while you are here. We know you are all
scared and uncertain whether or not you will ever see your families and friends
again. Please be assured that you will eventually be released from this
facility, only to emerge as a completely different boy than from how you
entered it. You will be returned to your families. As for your friends, unless
they, too, become diaper boys themselves, they will likely want nothing to do
with you once they see what a diaper boy you will have become.
“You are
not here on a trial or an experimental basis. None of you are considered to be
‘test subjects’, although this institution does serve as a continual basis for
further ongoing research and development in the re-conditioning of boys’ minds
and bodies. This is the real thing, boys, and it works, and don’t try to resist
it or attempt to disprove that it will work on you, because it will! Our techniques are time-tested and
are proven to be absolutely and fully 100% effective. Think of it as a black
hole for boys, or shall we say, a white
hole, as you will see lots and lots of white. Oh yes, there will be white.
Right now you are all standing at the event horizon of this ‘white hole’, and
just as the strongest beam of light cannot escape from a black hole, neither
shall you boys escape from what will become of you. You will all approach the
singularity that will define your personality as a diaper boy, and once you
emerge into a new dimension, you will never be able to go back to the world you
once knew.”
Good God, was this lady psycho? All these analogies to black holes were rather absurd, especially with the way her speech about them was accompanied by various animations, one showing boys being sucked into a “white hole”, being stripped of their pants as they enter, and then emerging from the other side wearing thick diapers. The lady continued with her spiel.
“We thoroughly reviewed each of your cases as presented to us by your parents before determining if you were a good candidate for our program. You might not think you belong here, but I can assure you all, you do, and you will all find out why each of you is here. The extensive program you will undergo here is the product of many years of painstaking research and development and continual improvements to our processes, embracing all of the latest technological and medical advances that come into being where possible.
“As I mentioned earlier, our goal is NOT to rehabilitate you boys. Your parents had long ago determined that this is a hopelessly lost cause. Instead, our goal is to condition your bodies and your minds to become completely consumed and wholly immersed in your indulgence of diapers and the other boys who will also be wearing them. Your entire lives will be fixated on your diapers. All of your thoughts and activities will be centered on your diapers and only your diapers.
“By the time you boys leave this place— and you will eventually— but not until you will all be completely brainwashed, programmed and indoctrinated into our ways of thinking in the C.R.I.B. You will NOT be able to resist these forces, so don’t even try! No boy who has entered this institution has ever escaped from our powers! Soon you will no longer even realize that you are being programmed to become true diaper boys! You will soon accept your fate as boys and accept that being a boy means wearing and using diapers and indulging in them! By the time you leave this place, you boys WILL learn to love your diapers! You boys WILL become slaves to your DIAPERS! Your diapers WILL rule your lives! Your diapers WILL command your minds and your bodies! You WILL respect your diapers! You WILL obey your diapers! You WILL soon think of nothing more than your diapers! You WILL indulge in your diapers! You WILL become obsessed with your diapers! You WILL bond with your diapers! You WILL become ONE with your diapers! Your diapers WILL own you boys and WILL completely consume you boys! You WILL firmly believe that ALL BOYS BELONG IN DIAPERS! You will set out to see to it that every single boy you know will be in diapers! You boys will be this way FOREVER! The thinking we will drill into your minds is completely IRREVERSIBLE!”
The girls cheered loudly as the lady paused to regain her composure. She was sweating and she appeared exhausted as she paused to pour herself a glass of water from a pitcher. She was more rabid and fervent than even the most boisterous of televangelists. Every boy in the row stood with a look of fear and shock in his eyes, perhaps some of them feeling disbelief that this was even real, but nonetheless, it was, exaggerated and outlandish as it seemed.
She wasn’t done:
“You boys WILL all remain fully committed to your common cause of getting every boy you know to wear diapers and indulge in them just as you will soon be doing! Until every last boy in the world is in a thick bunch of white diapers and forever stripped of his pants and ensured that he will never, ever plant his stinky unwiped butt on a toilet seat ever again, your work will never be done! You girls WILL all work together to abolish the idea of toilet training boys!” (cheering from the girls).
“You
boys WILL recognize each other as equals, and that NO BOY is above any GIRL
because of his POOR HYGIENE! You WILL all learn to recognize that all girls are
“You
WILL learn to honor, obey and respect any girl, regardless of her age or size
to you. You WILL come to recognize that all baby girls will be quickly toilet
trained and will NEVER wear diapers again, and ONLY GIRLS will be capable of
going without DIAPERS! You WILL recognize that a girl’s primary goal is to KEEP
YOU BOYS IN DIAPERS! You WILL recognize that it’s a girl’s supreme prerogative
to enjoy your constantly diapered presence! You WILL accept a girl’s ongoing
mission to constantly remind you of your boyhood and the diapers that will be
irremovably integrated into your very existence!
“You
boys might all think that this is some form of punishment. While we do use very
strict, punitive measures to coerce you boys into submission, the purpose of
this high level of discipline is to condition you to indulge in your diapers
and nothing else, other than your fellow boys who also wear them for the same
reasons.
“Currently
there are 7,890 boys admitted to this institution. Your arrival boosts this
number to 7,932. We currently have the capacity for over 15,000 boys and the
land to build much more space if needed— and it will be needed soon. At the
current rate of growth we expect to achieve this capacity within the next year
as more parents become aware of and accepting of our institution and its reasons
for existing. All of the boys range from ages 6 to 14; boys up to age 13 are
admitted. You will get to know many of these boys by the time you leave here. You
will get to know them quite intimately, in fact. They will likely be your only
friends for the rest of your lives.
“Of
course you boys cannot be counted on to look after your own diaper changes, and
all of you boys are in constant need of strict discipline and constant
reminding that being a boy here means wearing, using and most importantly,
indulging in diapers. This is why we have girls here to take care of that task.
The girls here range from ages 8 to 16 and each girl goes through a rigorous
training program so that she understands her role and her purpose for being
here. Please, understand, boys, that unlike you, the girls are not here to be
punished. Instead, they are here working as volunteers to help us to indoctrinate
you boys into a world of diapers. Their living quarters nearby are much more luxurious than what you boys will ever see.
“Each
girl is encouraged to serve at least six months but she may serve a longer term
if she wishes, right up until her 17th birthday if she so chooses, and many of them have pledged to remain committed
for that length of time in their lives. In fact, girls, let’s see a show of
hands to see how many of you have pledged to stay here for the full term…”
(At this point several dozen hands went up, in fact every one of the girls; it was unanimous.)
“There
you have it, boys. As you can see, these girls are very committed, very
dedicated, and most of all, very, very determined to get you boys into diapers!
“You have undoubtedly noticed that all of the girls here wear considerably less than you boys do. In fact, at first glance you might think they’re all naked, but from seeing their derrieres up close and personal, you saw that they do wear something. (the speaker held up a black thong).
“If I
can have you boys look up at me for a moment, I want you to examine this
garment I am holding. It’s one of the thongs the girls here
wears. Notice two things about it. One, it’s very, very skimpy; and two,
it’s black. All the girls wear black thongs because black is the most opposite
color from white as you can get, and you know what’s white around here— tell ‘em, girls!”
“YOUR DIAPERS!” the girls shouted.
“There’s
less than 12 square inches in this garment. I’m not talking about a square
foot, boys, but 12 square inches,
like a one-inch wide strip 12 inches long (the PowerPoint slide also
pointed this out or clarification, lest anyone believe a girl’s thong contained
144 square inches of material). This is the average
size of thong worn by the girls here. For the larger girls here that number is
higher, and for the smaller girls, the number is even lower. In any case, even
for Bethany, our biggest girl here who weighs in at 257 pounds and has a
42-inch waist (Bethany stood up to show off her girth), this is nothing near
the amount of material you boys wear in your diapers, as you will see in a
moment.
“The
reason the girls here all wear thongs is to show you boys that they can and do
keep their butts clean and wiped! (much
cheering from the girls). You boys might see all these
girls and their seemingly naked butts around here and you might think, “Gee,
she has nothing on! What if she has to poop? Well, boys, that’s why these girls
use toilets! If we let you boys go around like these girls do we’d have piles
of boy shit all over the floor!” (the girls all
laughed loudly).
“Now,
the other reason the girls wear thongs is to sexually tease you boys. You boys
love the sight of a naked girl’s ass and some of you would probably even want
to stick your little dicks in between their plump, fleshy butt cheeks. A lot of
you boys had erections when you were sniffing the girls’ behinds as indicated
by your monitoring devices, and a few of you even climaxed. That’s okay. We
know how boys think and we know how boys act when they get stiff. Still, if any
of you boys think for a second that you’re going to score with any of the girls
here, well, guess again, it’s not happening. If you younger boys don’t know
what we’re talking about, you will soon enough.
“No
doubt you boys, especially those of you approaching puberty or have attained
it, will be full of sexual tension from watching these thong-clad girls prance
and parade their nearly nude derrieres around you all the time. This is
intentional, and the purpose for it is to encourage you boys to re-channel any
such sexual thoughts and urges into your diapers! For you boys who have been
lucky enough to jack off to a Penthouse magazine, you will soon find yourself
jacking off to pictures of yourselves and other boys in diapers, and while your
natural inclinations towards wanting to screw girls may never leave you, you
will be fully conditioned to redirect these feelings into your diapers and the
other boys who wear them. The smell of your own and each others’ piss and shit
will soon become your aphrodisiac.
“Now
that you boys are fully aware of the reasons for the girls to be here and why
they change your diapers and enforce your discipline, and why they dress the
way they do, I want all of you to have a look at what these girls wear, without
them wearing it.”
(One of the girls then walked along the row of us boys to show us the thong up close. Since our wrists were restrained we couldn’t touch the garment. Next, one of the girls brought a diaper to the speaker lady).
“Now
that you boys have seen what the girls wear here, I want you to see what you
are wearing right now and what you will continue to wear for the remainder of
your days here, and most of all, for the remainder of your lives!”
(She held up the diaper, which was much larger and bulky than the thong, and white, of course).
(What follows from here is a lengthy discussion on the mathematical
differences between a girl’s thong and a boy’s diaper, complete with detailed
figures, charts and diagrams in the accompanying PowerPoint presentation).
“You
recall that the girls’ thong contained less than twelve square inches of
material. While you boys couldn’t touch it, you should also know that it is
made from a fine, thin material. The cloth that goes into your diapers is made
from a much heavier, denser and thicker material. One layer in this diaper contains 720 square inches! Again, this is
an average-sized diaper, as some boys wear larger diapers and some wear smaller
diapers. For those of you who are budding mathematicians, that works out to
over two square feet, and this time I am
talking square feet. Compared to the girls’ thong, this is over sixty times as much material, not
counting thickness! And that’s just one
layer! As you boys will very soon learn, these diapers contain six layers all
around, so that’s 4,320 square inches! That’s about 30 square feet, boys, or
more than a sheet of cloth measuring five and a half feet by five and a half
feet. That’s 360 times the material
of the thong.
“Now, if
that isn’t enough material for you
boys, each diaper also contains an additional
six layers of material in the center. On this diaper, each of these extra
panels measures 288 square inches. Six of these layers makes for another 1,728
square inches, for a total of 6,048 square inches of material in your diapers.
That’s 42 square feet, or about 6 and a half feet by six and a half feet of
cloth all contained in this one diaper. Compared to the girls’ thong, that’s
over 500 times the material!
“But,
we’re not done, boys, because there’s more, lots more! You’re not just wearing
one diaper, but six diapers, and each
of the other diapers is larger than the one beneath it. Each of the larger
diapers is fifteen percent larger than the one beneath it, so at that rate, by
the time you get to the sixth diaper it’s over twice the size of the innermost diaper. This works out to about
47,000 square inches of diaper material, or a good 325 square feet of cloth.
That’s over 18 feet by 18 feet. You could make over 3,900 pairs of the girls’
thongs out of that much material!
“You
think that’s it? Nope! You see, so far we’ve only been working in two
dimensions and we haven’t even taken into account the different densities, or
heaviness of the fabrics used in your respective undergarments. I know you boys
couldn’t feel the thong’s material when it was presented to you with your
wrists all bound up, but I can assure you that the material it’s made of is
much thinner and lighter and more delicate than the thick, heavy flannel used
in your diapers. This thong (holding it up again) is made of a fine lace. The
flannel in your diapers is four times as dense as the material in this thong,
so you’re actually wearing over 15,000— yes, fifteen thousand— times as much material on your butts! It would
take a girl nearly 42 years to go
through that many pairs of thongs if she wore a different pair each day. With
52 girls here, they could each wear a different pair each day and have them
finished up in, oh, just under ten months.
“Now
that you boys know that over four orders of magnitude differentiate your
diapers from the girls’ thongs, we’ll let you all think about it for a few
minutes while the girls take a little intermission. In other
words, girls?”
“A BATHROOM BREAK!” the girls shouted in unison.
“We’re gonna use the TOI-LET! We’re gonna use the TOI-LET!” some of the girls chanted, some of whom came on stage just to show us their butts up close,
“We’ll even let you boys watch us show you how it’s done sometime!” one girl heckled as she left from the room with the others. I don’t know how much longer this was going to go on, but clearly they had a lot more things to cover with us boys.