Name: Troy

Ages: 6

	This story is not exactly a "diaper" story, but it is one of the 
earlier memories I have of me and my best friend, whose name has been 
changed to Derek for privacy reasons.
	This is when I was *about* 6, while I am not sure, I would think 
it was in that area. I was playing around with my friend Derek, the 
common boyhood 'cool' things, you know, balls and Slinkies, the like. 
When we went on one of daring backyard ventures. The only thing that 
separated my back yard from normal ones is that we lived near a golf 
course, and the yard and the course were separated by a large wooded 
area, which took about a 10 minute brisk walk to get through for me 
even now. However, being my age, the whole thing was massive, and my 
little legs only carried me through it in about 20 minutes. My brother 
and I had build two cool forts in the area, one right off our yard, and 
one within sigh of the course. Back then it was considered no end of 
fun to just walk through it and pretend things. On this occasion we 
took off into the woods to go explore the second fort nearer the 
course, once around that area we played fighting against enemies and 
the like. We had fun by climbing the fort, playing with sticks and 
such, and wondering over a large dead tree that acted like an intricate 
maze to our young minds. We could hold off 100 to one odds, battle 
pirates, become heroes, all in the course of ten minutes. However, this 
eventually dulled, and we continued the adventure. Some were near fort 
#2 it hit me. I was well out of diapers at this stage, but while I 
cannot fully remember this specific instance, I believe I was still 
wearing the *potty training* underwear, that was basically underwear 
with prints that I found neat, cartoon characters and such, with 6 
layers of cotton running down the center.
	Now, back to the story, I had suddenly realized, while playing 
around with some plants, that I had to go to the bathroom, go number 
two, as our preschool teachers so kindly described the evacuation of a 
stinky, gooey mess. I had at this age put up the beginnings of the 
adult brick wall that prevented accidents to occur, but that brick wall 
was not very strong yet. I got my friend Derek's attention and told him 
of the situation, largely embarrassed about needing to cut out time 
short, but feeling the all consuming pressure, I had to start back. I 
stood no chance at the great distance, however, about half way there, 
it happened, going on all four's up the seemingly massive 4 foot steep 
incline that was part of the casual route to my house, my rear gate 
opened. Now, as you all probably know, there are varying 
classifications of poop. There's those little ones that make you say, 
"I needed to poop for that?" Or the medium ones that you go and have on 
a normal day, and then there's the daddy ones, the largest that only 
occur when you have been holding back for some reason. In this case, I 
had been so engulfed in playing I had totally forgotten to go at any 
point during the day, and it would not let me go unrewarded for such a 
display of forgetfulness. It started coming... and coming... and 
coming. I was still in the crawling position, moving in slow motion of 
my previous fast attempts to scamper up the incline. Derek was near me 
attempting the same feat of agility when he realized what had happened. 
Now Derek and I were both just receiving out official license to be 
trusted with potty training, so we each knew how it felt to have an 
'accident'. He was very considerate, we continued at a slower pace for 
the urgency had been obliterated. I knew what was coming, the 
unfortunate need to tell my parents and get changed, but I had so 
wanted not to. Now, if anyone here can remember, at this humble age, 
you seem to have a supreme sense of logic that, if you do something to 
try and cover the situation, the first something will go away. Being 
the smart younger preschooler that I was, I employed my vast knowledge 
to my situation and stopped. Getting Derek's attention to come over, I 
told him how I did not want to go back up, and asked for ways to try 
and make it better. He also used his knowledge and said to try 
squishing it around, as I was uncomfortable with the large concentrated 
mound. I figured there was nothing to lose, and took both my hands and 
shoved the mess all around my protective underwear. Surprisingly it did 
feel a lot better, and much alleviated the desire to go back to my 
parents and their assured speech about "poop belonged in the toilet". 
We stumbled around near the house for awhile, getting tired we both sat 
down, which unfortunately, made me remember exactly how much had gone 
into the protective underwear. As I last described, this "protective" 
underwear was nothing less than underwear with a medium sized soaking 
pad in the middle, and extra cloth around the sides, it did nearly 
nothing to alleviate the profound smell accompanied by pooping. With 
this smell bothering both myself and my friend Derek, I decided to head 
to my judgment. Which was the odd pronunciation accompanied by the 
childish stare at your feet technique. My dad led me into the bathroom 
and cleaned me up by washing the underwear out into the bowl and using 
a large amount of toilet paper on me. Along with the previously 
mentioned speech, consisting of such embarrassing comments as "you 
should know better" and "you are too old to poop your pants". 
Eventually I was let free with clean underwear to continue play, 
unfortunately after the lecture my memory fades and fades until there 
is nothing.