It was Thanksgiving and although there was a roaring fire only a few feet behind him, Chris took one look at the strange jelly salad on his plate and suddenly felt cold. A lump formed in his throat and he anxiously glanced around the table to see if anyone was noticing him. His sister, Joan, was looking at him intently.

Taking his time about it, Chris ate everything on his plate but the lump of jelly and then said a silent prayer that at least on Thanksgiving they wouldn't do what they always did. The seconds and then minutes dragged by. He could see that most of the family were finishing their meals. His plate stood out from the rest. It was only a matter of time before someone noticed.

Joan, as usual, was the first to comment: "Eat your jelly salad, Chris, it won't hurt you!"

"I don't like it." he whispered, hoping against hope that someone would come to his defence.

"You haven't even tried it! Go ahead! It won't hurt you! Only babies are fussy about food, Joan continued, "and you know what happens to babies!"

Now he knew they were all looking at him. They knew what came next and he guessed that no one was going to save him. He gave his 19 year old sister his modest humble look and said, "Please, don't make me eat it. I just can't stand it."

"Fine!" She said as she got up from the table. "Come along, we'll get you an nice thick diaper. Since you are acting like a baby that is how you'll be dressed." She came around to his chair and gripped his left wrist firmly, pulling him out of his chair.

"Please!" he cried, "Not that! I don't want a diaper!"

But by then it was too late and he knew it. His sister already had him on his feet and was starting to pull him from the room. He pulled against her as the tears streamed down his face. "I don't want a diaper!" he screamed over and over again.

His sister, being 6 years his senior, was stronger than him and while he looked back at all the faces, none of which looked at all sympathetic, he was dragged from the room. His sobs and cries echoed in the hall and the stairway as she pulled him upstairs.

By the time they arrived in his room he had given up the screams for constant sniffling and tears. From experience he knew better than to resist so he stood limp while she undid his dress pants and pushed them and his underwear down to the floor and then made him step free of them.

Having to stand there half naked and watch her get the diaper ready was almost the worst part. She made a show of spreading out three of the big, thick cloth diapers she had sewn for him and a pair of the oversize plastic pants.

Although he was 13 his slight build made it easy for her to pick him up and place his bare bum on the waiting cloth pads. Through a veil of tears he watched her apply baby powder to his waist and between his thighs. Then she passed the wadded diapers between his legs and began to pin them tight; two pins on each side. It was all so familiar.

The final act was the fitting of the plastic panties over his ankles. She worked them up just past his knees and then made him stand up. She pulled them into place over the diapers and tucked in all the stray bits of cloth. He could feel the thick, soft bulk between his legs and the tight elastic of the panties biting into his legs and waist. Soon they would make the diaper damp and uncomfortable. As he watched her fold his trousers he remembered the summer just past - the summer he had spent in diapers.

At first, it had all seemed so simple. His mother was going into the hospital for an operation. To ease her convalescence at home, Chris and Joan were to spend the summer at Aunt Edith's cottage. Chris had been excited at the prospect of a whole summer of beaches and sun and all that went with it.

Aunt Edith had picked them up and driven them to the cottage. It was an old place, built just after the war and Chris had explored it thoroughly within minutes of arriving.

His first point of concern was the small square building behind the main cottage. He had never seen an outhouse before and his sister and Aunt Edith had to explain that since there was no plumbing, that was where he was to "do his business". It really hadn't sunk in that the outdoor facilities were really a bench over a deep pit and since Chris hadn't ventured inside he didn't realize what was entailed.

Inside the cottage the rooms were full of furniture from the forties and fifties. Chris came upon a strange bed in one of the rooms. It was high off the floor and had rails that could be raised and lowered. His aunt explained that it was an old hospital bed that she had purchased at an auction. Chris was intrigued by it and while he explored it he overheard his aunt tell his sister that it had become very handy the previous summer when Janie, his cousin, had stayed at the cottage to recover from some bladder surgery. "Poor thing, she couldn't hold her water at all at first," his aunt commented, "we had to put her back into diapers, in fact, I see most of her diapers and plastic panties are still here. Good thing she got her control back just before school started."

At that comment, Chris had turned to see his aunt holding up a very large pair of plastic panties, just like the ones that babies wore. Chris hadn thought much of it at the time but he did notice that the shelves of the closet seemed to be full of diapers and plastic pants and that there was an almost-full box of Pampers on the floor of the closet. Joan had asked about them.

"Oh, that," his aunt said, "sometimes her bowels weren't very reliable. We used to tape two of them together lengthwise and put them inside a couple of the cloth diapers for overnight use or for day trips. It made things much easier."

Chris found himself fascinated by the subject of his cousin wearing diapers but he didn't have much time to think about it. He put on his bathing suit and headed for the beach. While swimming he let his pee go into the water and he played happily all day. After dinner it was too cool to go back to the beach so everyone watched TV as the country night darkened around the cottage. Finally it was his bed-time and his sister told him to do his business and then to the bathroom and then wash up.

"Where's the toilet?" Chris had asked. He hadn't seen a bathroom in the cottage, only a place where someone could wash up.

His sister giggled. "You have to go use the little house out back to do your business."

At first, Chris thought nothing of it. He headed out the back door and made it exactly three paces down the well worn path to the little house before he realized how dark it was. There were no lights and the dim outline of the little building at the back of the lot seemed to be a long way away. He found himself frozen in the country night, aware of how dark it was and how many strange sounds there were. The more he thought of the hole in the plank in the outhouse, where he would have to sit, the less he trusted it. What else was out there in the woods, or down that hole?"

Shivering with fear he retreated into the house. He had been gone so long that his sister assumed he had completed his mission. "Ready for bed?" she asked and when he nodded she took him to the room with the strange bed. As soon as he had his flannel pajamas on she patted the hospital bed. Its plastic mattress cover made a strange sound.

"Do I have to sleep there?" he whined. For some reason the bed scared him. He didn't like how high it was from the floor and the fact that it had barred sides that formed a cage once they were pulled into position.

His sister was sympathetic. "I know it's not what you expected but don't worry. You are too old to sleep in the same room as me. Now that you've been potty trained, you won't need to get up in the night. Besides, the high rails will protect you from any monsters in the night."

She had only been joking but the idea of strange creatures in the night was enough to make Chris climb onto the strange bed willingly. His sister pulled the covers over him and then stepped back. He watched with a mixture of apprehension and fascination as she raised the side of the bed into position, forming a crib of bars around him. "Do you have to do that?" he asked anxiously. "Yes," she said sweetly, "the bed is so high off the floor that if you fell out in the middle of the night you might hurt yourself. It's just a safety precaution."

Even before she turned out the light, Chris knew that he had a full bladder but he was too afraid to tell her that he hadn't gone to the outhouse. In his heart he knew there was no alternative and he was afraid she would make him go there even though it was dark and scary. He tried to get comfortable and to think of anything but his full bladder as he stared at the inky blackness of the country night. Why was it so much darker in a cottage than it was in the city?

Finally he drifted off to sleep but only a couple of hours later he awoke with a desperate need to pee. The room was so dark that he couldn't even see the lamp beside his bed and even if he could see it he wasn't sure he could reach it through the bars. Now the night became an enemy. The cottage smelled different than his home, it had different sounds and he remembered little of the lay-out of the room.

Although stricken with fear, the pressure from his bladder made him contemplate leaving his bed. He thought he could just step outside to pee and be back inside before anything bad happened to him. The night was thick and dark. It wasn't until he was desperate that he made up his mind to leave his bed and try to feel his way to one of the doors.

Only after his bladder became painful did he start to crawl over the barred railing. In his mind's eye it was only a few inches to the floor. He had forgotten about the extra height of the bed and so when his searching foot found nothing but empty air he became frightened and scampered back over the railing into the bed.

He lay there for a few minutes, feeling the pressure in his bladder grow from discomfort to pain. He thought about trying to get out of bed again but he was too scared to try.

The pressure from his bladder mounted and just before he had decided to try and get out of the crib he suddenly felt a strange hot wetness between his legs. He put his hand down there just in time to meet the burst of pee that escaped from his body. He heard himself moan in despair as the stream became a torrent. He had lost control. He couldn't stop the stream once it had started and now he felt his hot pee flood into his pajamas, soaking his hand and spreading out into the sheets.

Chris began to cry. Long wracking sobs that begged for someone to come and comfort him but they were all asleep, oblivious to his shame and torment. He finally drifted off to sleep, tormented by the thoughts of what his sister and his aunt would say when they discovered that he had wet his bed.

The morning found him sad and afraid. He lay in his crib-like bed and stared at the floor so far below him. His urine had cooled in a puddle beneath his buttocks and he dared not move from the small oasis of warmth that his body had created in its wet environment.

When his sister called him to come to breakfast he called back that he needed help to get out of bed. While she lowered the side rail he did his best to hide the soaked sheets but it was to no avail because his pajamas were dark from his chest to his knees. He stood before her while she surveyed the damage and then pulled back the sheets to confirm what she already had guessed.

"You wet the bed!" she exclaimed with sincere surprise.

Chris felt his face get hot. He couldn't bear to look at her. He was silent with fear and humiliation.

She crouched down so she could look him in the eye. "How did that happen?" she asked sincerely, "didn't you got pee before you went to bed?"

"Yes," he lied, "but I had to go in the middle of the night and it was so dark that I couldn't see the floor and I was afraid. I just couldn't hold it. Please don't be mad. Please don't punish me!"

"We'll see about that. In the meantime you can't go down to breakfast like that." She quickly pulled out a fresh pair of pajamas from his dresser and helped him put them on. Then she stripped his bed, bundled his wet clothes into the pile and took him down to breakfast.

Chris's cheeks were already crimson from fear and shame as he walked into the kitchen. Although he prayed otherwise he knew it would be a miracle if his sister didn't mention the wet bed.

Actually it was Chris' complexion and obvious anxiety that attracted the initial attention. "Chris! You look upset! What's wrong?" his aunt asked.

Before Chris could reply Joan answered from the hall. "He wet the bed last night - soaked everything. I had to change his pajamas."

There was a long pause of silence. Chris' face felt hot and he wanted to run and hide. It was so unfair, having to listen to them talk about is accident. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, "I couldn't help myself."

His aunt adopted her most inquisitive tone, "Didn't you tell us that you had done your business before you went to bed?"

Chris knew by her tone that she had guessed he had lied about that. "Uh, yeah." he muttered.

"Well, did you relieve yourself or not?"

Chris was struck dumb. He could either try to extend the lie or admit his fault. He didn't know what to do and as the seconds ticked by he sensed that nobody was going to come to his rescue.

He felt his throat go dry as he struggled to find an answer. "I fibbed." he muttered.

"I expect you did!" his aunt exclaimed, "and we have a mess to clean up as a result of it. Now, the question remains, why did you lie to us?"

Chris continued to stare at the floor, his face burning with shame. "I was scared," he stammered, "I was afraid of the hole."

"What hole?" she asked.

"The one in the house."

"Are you still scared of the hole?" His aunt's voice was too calm, too assured. He sensed a plot but he had no idea what they were up to. Still fixed in her penetrating gaze he could not help but tell the truth. He nodded.

"So what were you going to do all day about your bathroom needs?" Her tone was plain, simple, betraying nothing of the pain it caused him. He wondered what her plan was but he still lacked enough information to develop a defence. He had to tell the truth, at least for now.

"I dunno," he muttered.

"Were you planning to relieve yourself in the bushes, like come common animal?" There was an edge to her tone now, betraying her ultimate plan. Still, Chris was trapped. He could not escape her interrogation. Too embarrassed to admit that she had guessed the truth he simply nodded.

He watched her rise from the table, her eyes never leaving him, her stare intensifying until he withered under its power. All eyes were on him, focusing the power of their disapproval on him. "You realize that we simply can't have you wandering about peeing in the bushes, or worse, not to mention lying to us and wetting the bed as a result. Something must be done about you."

She came up to him and put her hands on his shoulders. The touch felt leaden to him, the kiss of entrapment. Her attention shifted to Joan. "What does one do with a little boy who is too small to go to the outhouse and who wets his bed instead - worse, he lies about it?"

"Punish him?" Joan asked, obviously not having guessed Aunt Edith's intentions.

"Of course," she intoned, "but how? What best suits a little pee-pants boy?"

There was a slight pause, long enough for Joan to catch the drift. Chris looked up at her just in time to see a sly smile spread across her face. "Since he can't, or won't, control his water, put a diaper on him?"

The word "diaper" sent a chill through Chris' body. He suddenly remembered the closet full of diapers and plastic pants left over from his cousin last summer. A new sense of dread descended on him like a thick fog. He trembled at the thought of it but just one look at the adults around him told him he had guessed their intention.

He wanted to protest, to plead with them that it wasn't fair, that he deserved another chance but instead he looked into their eyes, felt the sawdust in his throat and knew that whatever he said, they would still do whatever they wanted to.

Aunt Edith turned to Joan, "I suggest two of the cloth diapers and a pair of plastic pants, to start with. Can you manage it? I've got to see to breakfast."

Joan looked down on Chris with a strange expression on her face. "Oh, I'm sure we'll make do." She took Chris' hand in a grip that was firmer than necessary. "Come along, Chrissy, we'll get you some nice dry baby pants."

"Aw nooo...." Chris wailed as Joan pulled him from the room. He wanted to plead with them not to make him wear a diaper but he was crying too hard. Everything seemed so hopeless.

Back in his room Joan picked him up and sat him on the plastic mattress cover. He watched with dread while she spread out two thick cloth diapers, a pair of diaper pins and then fluffed out a fresh pair of frosty plastic pants. Through it all he sniffled and gulped.

When everything was ready she gently pushed him onto his back and pulled down his pajama bottoms. The cool air felt strange on his exposed genitals and his face flushed hot with shame.

She gripped both of his ankles in one hand and pushed his legs back toward his chest, forcing him to lift his bum while she slid the pile of diapers into position underneath him. When she let him down the diapers felt soft and warm.

Joan had enough experience baby sitting to know how to do the job properly. She twisted the diapers once to concentrate the material and then pulled them up between his legs before pinning them snugly.

While Joan prepared the plastic pants, Chris flexed his legs against the thick cloth pads in his groin. It felt so strange! He let his sister fit his bare feet through the leg holes of the panties and then watched as she worked them up his legs. She got them up just past his knees and then pulled him to his feet before pulling them up over the thick diapers. After checking to make sure that all of the diapers were captured inside the plastic panty she began to undo his pajama top.

Chris was now acutely aware of his thick diapers. He ran his hands over the taunt shell of the plastic pants and almost started to cry all over again. His sister removed his pajama top and then pulled a tee-shirt over his head. It wasn't long enough to cover his diapers. His bulging, plastic-covered bum and crotch were still in plain sight.

"There we go," she said sweetly, "now let's get some breakfast."

"But, but what about my shorts?" he pouted.

She looked at him from the doorway. "Don't be silly! Nothing you have will fit over diapers that thick!" Then she turned and went back to the kitchen, leaving him alone.

He let his hands trace the outline of the diapers. Already they felt warm. But now he was terrified of being seen dressed in diapers. His face got hot just at the thought of it. The seconds turned into minutes and then he heard his aunt calling him from the kitchen.

"I suggest you join us right away, young man, or you'll really have something to cry about!" The threat was enough to force Chris into action. He took a few tentative steps, and heard for the first time the loud crackle of the plastic pants as they flexed. He was suddenly reminded of his young toddler cousin, a girl of 3 who wasn't yet toilet trained. Was that what he looked like? Was this how she felt? His aunt called again and he began to walk slowly toward the kitchen. With every step, each little movement he was constantly reminded that he was back in diapers and that everyone could see that he was diapered. By the time he got to the kitchen door his head was down cast and his cheeks aflame. He couldn't bear to look at them but he knew they were looking at him.

Without a word his aunt got up from the table, came over to him, crouched down and inspected his diapers and plastic pants. "Excellent, Joan. That should do the job nicely. I meant to tell you not to cover them but I see you came to that idea yourself."

"No point, really," his sister said, "he'd just wet them too and then there would be that much more laundry to do."

"More important," his aunt said with menace in her voice, "is that he won't be able to conceal his condition."

His aunt escorted him to this place at the table and served him breakfast. She conversed with his sister about him being in diapers as if Chris weren't present. From time to time Chris' ears burned.

"What about his BM's?" Joan asked.

"With Janie we had a routine. We would change her into some Pampers just before her afternoon nap and not take her out of them until she had done her business. It worked well."

"But Chris doesn't take an afternoon nap anymore."

His aunt looked at him with a serious glance, "as of today and as long as he's in diapers he will."

Chris' tears slowly changed into anger. By the time he was dismissed from the table he was furious with them. It was so unfair that he had to wear diapers because he didn't like the dark!

He walked down the hall and was about to head outside to the beach when he suddenly realized that everyone would be able to see his diapers! The thought struck him still in his tracks. Panic stricken, he thought of going back to his room but that awful bed and all the diapers were there. Finally he decided on the screened-in porch. There were some toys there that he played with on rainy days and at least there he would be out of sight.

That solution didn't last very long. As soon as the breakfast dishes were done his aunt came out to sun bathe. As soon as she saw Chris on the porch she grabbed him by the hand and hauled him to his feet. "Oh, no you don't, young man. That's too easy. We're going to let everyone see you in your nice thick diapers and tell them why you're wearing them. Unless it's raining you must play outside. Now come along with me."

"No!" Chris protested as he tried to pull away, "I don't want to. It's not fair!"

Chris may as well have saved his breath. His aunt pulled him through the screen door and out onto the beach until they reached her favorite lounge chair. "You can stay right here beside me until I decide otherwise."

Chris felt himself deflate. He was crushed. One look at his aunt's face told him it would only make things worse if he protested anymore. He turned around, sitting with his back to the side of her chair, hoping to conceal what he was wearing as much as possible. He began to play with the sand, noticing, after a while that his bladder was filling. Sooner or later he was going to pee and deep in his mind he knew that his aunt was going to make him do it in his diapers.

Fortunately for Chris he hadn't been at the cottage long enough to meet any of the other kids in the area. Until this morning he had been looking forward to making some friends but now he dreaded even the casual glances he and his aunt got from the other people on the beach as they passed by.

Time passed slowly and the sun grew warmer. Chris began to think about swimming but was still too afraid of his aunt to raise the question with her.

Suddenly Chris was aware of a woman approaching. She seemed to know his aunt and called out to her. He felt his face grow hot and he was rigid with fear. He tucked himself up against the lounge chair more closely and prayed that she wouldn't notice his diapers.

"Edith! How good to see you. First time up this year?"

"Hello, Susan, yes, it's our first weekend. My sister has been ill and I'm looking after my niece and nephew while she recovers."

"So this must be your nephew." Turning to Chris, "And what is your name, young man?"

"Chris" he mumbled.

"Stand up when you are spoken to, Chris" his aunt said. "Don't hide behind the chair like that!" Slowly Chris got to his feet. Until that moment he had hoped that the woman wouldn't realize he was in diapers but now there could be no chance of escape. His eyes were glued to the sand as he rose, exposing his babyish attire. He could feel her eyes burning into him, studying his diapers and see-through plastic pants. He wanted to run and hide but fear kept him rooted to the spot.

"Diapers, Edith? Don't tell me this one has a bladder problem too."

His aunt's voice adopted a tired tone. "You might say that, Susan. It seems that this perfectly healthy young boy can't bring himself to use the outhouse. He would rather pee in the bushes or soak his bed like he did last night."

Chris stole a glance at the stranger. Her expression was one of quiet amusement but there was a serious look in her eyes too. "I see. Well I think you are handling it well."

"Yes." his aunt agreed. "It's a good thing I kept all the diapers we used on Janie."

"Well, I must be going. I'm sorry you've another summer of diapers to look forward to. Look, if you need a sitter, I'd be happy to look after him for an afternoon. Janie and I got along fine."

"Indeed you did. I never did ask what went on but she certainly was more cooperative after she returned."

Susan flashed a smile. "We agreed it would be our little secret. Anyway, do call if I can help."

"Thank you, Susan, I will."

As the woman walked away, Edith turned her attention to Chris. "Well, how are you?"

"Uh, fine." he stammered. His cheeks were still crimson and he wanted to run and hide. The look in the other woman's eyes as she studied his diapers had been the worse moments of his life.

"I meant have you wet your diapers yet?"

Chris withered under her stare. He shook his head in answer.

"Do you have to wet?"

It was true he did need to let his water out but he was afraid to. Wetting the diapers seemed like the worse torture imaginable. He nodded despite his sense of foreboding.

Edith pulled him around until he was standing beside her. She cupped her left hand between his legs, at the plastic covered bulge of his diaper and said "Go ahead now. It's important to get on with it."

Chris squirmed. He wanted to pull away but was afraid of making her angry. He stammered and stuttered and tried to protest but in truth his need to pee was getting worse by the second. Finally fear, more than anything else, encouraged his bladder to release and he gasped as a hot flood invaded the soft thick pads. As soon as he realized what had happened he began to cry. Still, she didn't take her hand away, instead she gripped his crotch a little more tightly until she could feel the hot urine warming the plastic shell.

"That's better." she said finally. "Now sit down next to me for a while. Think of your wet diaper and how uncomfortable it is. Maybe you'll decide the outhouse is a better place to pee."

Chris spent the next hour in the hot sun thinking of little else but the fact that he was wearing wet diapers under a pair of plastic pants. He squirmed and itched and fretted but his aunt didn't seem to notice. The sun grew hot enough to add its own heat to his diaper prison, making it that much more uncomfortable. By the time his aunt got up from her chair he was squirming where he sat, tortured by his wet and itchy diapers.

She looked down at him with contempt. "Well, I suppose you would like a diaper change?" He just looked up at her, too scared to say anything. "No matter. Let's go swimming first."

She got up from the chair and grabbed Chris by the wrist, pulling him along with her toward the house. As he stumbled along he realized how heavy his diaper had become. It hung from its pinnings at his waist.

But it was the thought of being free of his diaper that kept Chris' mind working. She had said they were going swimming and if she was taking him to the cottage, did that mean getting out of the diaper?

Chris sure hoped so. He had hated every minute he had spent in the diapers and felt ready to conquer his fear of the outhouse. Still he couldn't bring himself to say anything. For now he was grateful just to have the prospect of being fee of the hot, itchy, humiliating diapers.

They met Joan in the cottage. She was already wearing her swim suit and was heading for the beach. "Put him into his bathing suit. We're going swimming for a while." Edith ordered.

Joan took Chris' hand and led him to his room. He noticed that his bed had been made up again and hoped against hope that they wouldn't put diapers on him again. But that was for another time. For now, he was going to be free of diapers, at least for a while and it made his heart sing.

"You're soaked!" Joan exclaimed as she peeled down his plastic pants. Chris didn't say anything. He just wanted her to take the diapers off. She unpinned one side of the diapers and let them drop to the floor. He stepped clear of them and she removed the other pin before depositing them in a diaper pail. Then she tossed him his swimsuit and told him to meet her on the beach.

Chris pulled his suit on. Nothing had ever felt so good. As he passed through the front doors he realized that he didn't have to worry about people seeing him. He was wearing normal clothes.

For the next hour Chris swam and played. He forgot about his ordeal in diapers and even met Susan's daughter, a girl named Sally. When his aunt finally called him in for lunch he came willingly because he was hungry. He went to the kitchen but his aunt wouldn't let him eat while he was wearing his wet bathing suit. She sent him to his room to change and because she hadn't said anything about diapers, Chris suspected nothing.

He stopped cold when he discovered Joan waiting for him. Worse, there was a set of diapers lying ready for him on the bed, a cloth diaper and two of the Pampers taped end to end lying in the center of it. A pair of plastic panties had been fluffed out nearby.

"Well, Chris, " she said slowly, "I think it's time to put you back into diapers".

"No." he whispered, but it was already too late. She had him by the wrist, pulling him into the room. Then her hands were at his waist, peeling down his wet swimsuit. "No." he said hoarsely as she picked him up and set him down on the diapers, the paper lining of the Pampers feeling so warm on his chilled buttocks. "No." he said and began to cry as she pulled the diapers up between his legs and pinned them tightly. It was happening again, the same feeling of warmth, then tightness then padding so thick that he couldn't walk properly.

He looked up to see her holding a pair of pink plastic panties. She was smiling broadly, enjoying his distress. "Are you sure the outhouse is worse than this? The plastic panties must get pretty hot in the sun and I'm sure everybody stares at you." She paused but he was struck dumb by the moment. "No? Well I guess we'd better get these nice tight plastic panties on you."

"This was the worst part of the day for Janie, you know," she said as she worked the pants up his legs. "You see, she knew that right after lunch she would be sent back here for a nap. It gets pretty hot in here in the afternoon and I guess having to wear diapers and plastic pants made things pretty uncomfortable."

She pulled him to his feet so she could fit the pants up over his diapers. This brought her face close to his.

"But, you know, I think the worst part must have been the rule."

There was a long period of silence before Chris could find his voice, "What rule?"

"Well," she said as tucked another stray bit of cloth inside his plastic pants, "this is the time of day when you are supposed to poo." When the shock registered on his face she continued, "That's right, you won't be allowed up from your nap until you've filled your diapers."

Chris gulped. His throat had turned to sawdust and he suddenly wasn't hungry. He had a thousand thoughts but nothing to say. Joan put a tee-shirt on him and led him to the kitchen for lunch.

His aunt noticed his silence during lunch but didn't say anything. When the meal was over she said, "Now it's nap time. You are wearing disposable diapers so you can do your BMs. Be a good boy and don't complain."

By the time Joan took him back to his room the temperature had soared and the room was sweltering. She pulled the shirt off him and peeled the bedclothes back, leaving only a sheet covering the plastic mattress cover.

He was trembling with dread as she helped him onto the bed and he looked up at her with pleading eyes as she raised the side of the crib bed. To him the bars suddenly seemed ten feet high and he felt trapped. "Have a good sleep," she said cheerily, "and remember that if you want to be let out early you'll do your BMs. I'll be back to check on you."

Chris could do anything but sleep. The room was so hot that he was soon bathed in sweat. His diapers got hot and itchy but no matter how he tried he never seemed to be able to scratch. After a while he had to pee again and although he tried to hold it in he finally had to let it escape. He kneeled on the mattress, using the barred side for support, his face pressed against the cool metal while he tried to relax. It was so hard to let it happen but slowly it began and soon there was the hot flood making his diapers feel all that much worse.

Finally, tormented beyond all rational thought he pulled his plastic pants off and released one of the diaper pins. Then he pushed the soaked pads down his legs. Immediately he felt better and despite the heat of the room he drifted off to sleep.

The sound of the side of the bed being lowered woke Chris. He looked up to see his aunt standing there with an angry look on her face. Joan stood just a little behind her, trying hard not to smile.

"That wasn't smart, Chris. It's hardly original. Joan told you we would be by to check on you. Now we'll have to put those wet diapers back on you and make sure that this time they'll stay on until they've done their job.

As she spoke Joan began to untangle the wet diapers from the plastic panty. Chris wanted to protest but the look in his aunt's eyes told him not to risk getting into more trouble. He let himself be limp as Joan put the soggy and now cool diapers on him. Just the feel of them made him want to gag but he said nothing.

When the diapers and panty were back in place his aunt took a roll of wide packing tape from the dresser. "Put your hands together, Chris." and after he did so she wrapped them in the tape, binding them together in an attitude of prayer.

Satisfied that his hands were now useless, his aunt then went to the dresser again and came back with something small in her hand. She ordered him to turn over, presenting his bottom to the ceiling. Terrified, he did as he was told and shuddered with fear and dread as he felt her hand violate the waistband of his plastic pants and slip underneath the diaper, slowly descending toward his bottom. "This will help you with the rule. Just relax and it will all be over soon."

Chris was crying too hard to say anything in reply. He felt her hand leave his diaper and he pressed his face into his pillow so he wouldn't have to look at her. He was scared by the thing she had put in him and he guessed its purpose. His mind sought out that part of his anatomy for some sign, some reaction but he couldn't yet distinguish any sensation.

A few minutes later Chris had no doubt that the suppository was working. The first cramp caught him off guard and he heard himself cry out, more with surprise than discomfort. But as the pessary melted, sending its powerful chemicals into his colon a powerful storm began to brew.

Soon, Chris was lying on his back, legs spread, pulling against his taped hands, dreading the next contraction and trying hard not to cry out. He could feel the storm's progress toward his little private opening and he desperately wanted to stop it.

"Auntie..." he cried weakly as he realized that he no longer cared about not messing himself. Suddenly he wanted to expel the storm and didn't care about the aftermath. He began to twist and turn, his legs flexing with the spasms. He cursed his bound hands for not being able to help him and finally found himself on his knees, chest on the mattress, feeling the sweat drip onto his pillow while he waited for the one supreme cramp that would allow the storm to escape.

Despite his obsession with his torment the escape did catch him by surprise. Suddenly there was hot mush spreading into his hot wet diapers. It burned his skin and the strange feelings made him think of what it must look like. Then the first wafts of its evidence escaped into the hot humid room and Chris began to gag. He cried out for his aunt and his sister but if they heard they did not come.

He was frozen in his semi-kneeling position. Too sickened by what he had done in his diaper to risk moving. But now his back began to ache and his knees were getting sore. He cried out for the women but still they would not respond.

Finally he had no choice but to move. He slowly let his legs slide down the bed, taking his weight on his tummy. The load of poo in his diaper shifted and again he was almost sick at the feeling and the smell.

As soon as his manoeuvre was complete he laid as still as possible, trying hard to forget the warm heavy mass that coated his bottom. His bound hands beneath him reminded him of his utter helplessness. He lay still and hoped they would come soon.

When they did come they were not sympathetic to his condition. "I see the suppository helped you with your little chore."

"Yes, Auntie," he said softly, respectfully, "can I get up now?"

She put her hand through the bars and rested it lightly on his padded bottom, noticing him tense up at even the slightest pressure. "I'm not sure that's a good idea," she said slowly, I think another hour would be beneficial." Her hand began to stroke his diapered bottom - lightly at first and then with more pressure until he made a little whining sound. "You don't like messy diapers do you?" He shook his head emphatically, too intimidated to ask her to stop pressing his poo-filled diaper. Her hand pressed at little harder. "I think you need a more enduring reminder of how much you don't like them. Maybe then you'll use the outhouse like everyone else." Her hand made two vigorous sweeps of his bottom before the sentence was finished.

Without another word they strolled from the room, leaving him mesmerized by the feeling of mushy poo clinging pudding-like to his behind. He wanted to cry out or even just cry but the feeling was so awful, so terrible that only a little squeak escaped his lips. Again he laid carefully, his taped hands pressed into the mattress while he struggled to cope with the time he had to wait.

Chris didn't know how long an hour was. There were no clocks in the room, he didn't have a watch and the house was silent around him. He pictured the women lying out on the beach, oiling themselves after swimming and ignoring him completely. At first he was angry with them, then petulant, finally, broken he just wanted them to come and make him comfortable again.

At the first sight of them he broke down into tears and promised he would be good - even if that meant using the outhouse. They smiled while the crib bars were lowered and their hands were gentle as they helped him to his feet. Joan took him to the wash room where she stripped off his dirty diaper and cleaned him up. He kept on crying and telling her that he would be good from now on. "We'll see." was her only reply.

He was given his swimsuit and that was enough to stop his tears, but this time as he played on the beach he couldn't get the barred bed out of his mind or forget what had happened inside his diapers. This time his heart was in his throat when Joan called him into supper.

A great weight lifted from his shoulders when his room was empty and only his normal underpants and shorts were on the bed. The windows had been opened and everything tidied so he at first couldn't believe this was where the nightmare had happened. It was easier to put it out of his mind as he enjoyed the feeling of normal clothing.

Supper passed uneventfully. No one mentioned the word diaper and it seemed as if the afternoon had never happened. But as the shadows deepened and the summer night drew near, Chris' bladder reminded him of his promise and his eyes were drawn toward the little house out back that held such horrors for him.

Despite what he had said when his pants were full he knew that he had not really conquered his fear of the black hole and the awful smells. He also knew that if he didn't pee before bedtime there would be another wet bed and more diapers. So, driven by desperation he slipped out the side door and pretended to head up the path to the outhouse. His aunt and sister were playing cards in the front porch and hopefully didn't notice his exit.

Chris looked for bushes to use to conceal himself while he peed. Unfortunately there were none close to the house. He decided to walk past the house and pee behind it. That seemed scary but not as bad as having to go inside.

He slipped around the little house and looked anxiously for any sign of nasty critters or bad things. Satisfied that it was at least temporarily safe, he lowered his fly and relieved himself on the ground, congratulating himself that the house itself would conceal the wet spot. It was the first time he had peed normally since the previously evening and Chris was amazed at how good it felt. He shook himself and zipped his fly before peeking around the edge of the house. The coast was clear and a few steps later he was walking down the path as if returning from the outhouse itself.

"I knew you couldn't be trusted!" his aunt said from the door of the outhouse.

Chris wheeled around in shock while he felt his heart rise to his throat. How had she gotten there? But the worst part was she couldn't but have heard him pee on the ground. He was in deep trouble now and suddenly remembered how thick the diapers felt between his legs. He began to cry.

"Please, Auntie, No!" he yelled as she stormed down the path, grabbed him by the arm and yanked him toward the house."

"Stop fussing!" she chided him angrily, "It's back into diapers for you!"

He cried and pleaded as she dragged him into the cottage and toward his room. When they arrived he was too shocked to say anything. Fresh diapers, plastic pants and pins were laid out ready and waiting for him. There was also a one-piece sleeper big enough to fit him although obviously meant for a girl.

He looked up at his aunt with surprise written all over his face. He wanted to know how she knew he would try to evade his promise to use the outhouse but he couldn't form the words. His mouth hung open as she began to release the waist of his shorts.

"Oh, don't look so surprised," she said quietly. "I had little doubt you would try that old trick. Well, never mind. You've just earned yourself a week of wearing diapers anytime you're not in your swimsuit."

She said it so quietly, so rationally that at first the real message didn't sink in for Chris. He was too concerned with the pile of diapers that lay ready and waiting on the bed, the plastic panties that he knew would be so uncomfortable and the strange looking sleeper that was almost the worst part of it all. But gradually he did begin to think about her words.

Just about the time she pulled the triple thick diapers up between his legs, forcing them wider apart than ever before, he began to grasp what she had said. His only reaction was to begin to cry and he cried louder as the plastic panties were pulled on, he cried louder still while the sleeper was fitted and he howled while his aunt sewed the sleeper's zipper shut.

As he lay in bed with the inky blackness surrounding him like a fog his mind was obsessed with the bulk of the diaper between his legs, how his body heat was trapped by the plastic panty and how the sleeper seemed to be just a little too small so that its crotch pressed the diaper against him all that much more.

His aunt kept her word. The next morning his wet diapers - he couldn't explain how they had gotten wet - were changed and he was left to play inside wearing only a tee shirt to cover his baby pants. They gave him his swimsuit for the morning swim but it was back into disposable diapers and plastic pants for lunch and then the dreaded afternoon nap. Trembling with fear and dread he didn't fight the urge to move his bowels when it came and was congratulated for having messed himself when they got him up.

They changed his diapers and made him play outside with his plastic panties in full view until dinner was ready. Afterward they didn't make him go outside again but did insist on putting him into the sleeper again.

The more Chris was kept in diapers the less he fought the punishment. He was sullen and miserable, content to be left alone. He became accustomed to the bulk between his thighs, the hot rush of his pee and the ever-increasing heat and itch but he never got used to the humiliation of being seen by strangers.

A week later, just when Chris had been hoping to be able to wear his normal clothes during the day, something happened that changed the course of the summer and the rest of Chris' life.

Susan, the woman who had seen Chris on the beach the first day he was made to wear diapers, came by after supper with her young niece. The girl was Chris' age and very pretty. At the first glimpse of their approach Chris had run to his room. He was wearing only a tee shirt over his bulging plastic pants and was terrified of being seen by the girl whom he thought very pretty.

After some small talk his absence was noticed and his sister found him hiding in the corner of his room. She dragged him into the living room while he cried and begged to be let off. Before he knew it he was standing before them all, wetting himself furiously and knowing that they could tell he was wetting. he could not bear to look at Susan, much less the girl.

"See, Cynthia? There are lots of diapers big enough to fit you. This is what will happen if you don't stop wetting the bed! Now go play with Chris and ask him what it's like to have to wear diapers."

The two kids were ushered into Chris' room and the door was closed. Chris' face felt hot and he couldn't look Cynthia in the eyes. There was a long moment of silence before she spoke.

"What did you do - I mean - to deserve the diapers?"

Chris continued to stare at the floor. His throat was full of sawdust. He wasn't sure he wanted to tell her, even if he had the ability. She crossed the room and took his hand. "Hey, it can't be all that bad. I get punished lots. Not in diapers - yet. But it always passes."

Her touch electrified him and he found the courage to look into her soft eyes. She seemed so sympathetic and yet there was a gleam there that promised trouble. "Uh, I don't want to talk about - you know." he whispered, motioning toward his diapers.

"But I want to know!" she said with unusual interest. "Sometimes I wet my panties a little. It feels good, for a girl at least. Aunt Susan keeps threatening me with diapers if I don't stop wetting the bed. Really, I'm wetting on purpose, just to see what diapers feel like. Got any I can try on?"

Chris was shocked but he motioned toward the cupboard where the diaper supplies were kept. As he watched Cynthia take out a pair of plastic panties and hold them up to her waist to try the fit he felt a sinking feeling in his heart. This was not going right. There would be trouble if they got caught. He wanted to say something to her but he was so shocked by her interest in what was for him a punishment that he lost all sense of caution.

His heart began to beat like a drum when she said "Mind if I try a pair on? Maybe I could borrow a pair for a little while, just to see what it feels like?"

Before Chris could answer she was reaching up under her dress and pulling down her cotton panties. He got a glimpse of her little mound with its light dusting of hair and he stared for all he was worth.

As soon as she had her panties off she stepped into the plastic pants and pulled them into place. She let her dress fall back into place while she rubbed her waist and groin. "Feels neat!" she exclaimed, "How do I look?" she said as she hoisted her dress high.

The frosty plastic pants, pressed against her most intimate parts lent all the intrigue of lingerie. Chris stared, his mouth hanging open. She crossed over to him, still holding her dress up, and took his hand, forcing it between her thighs.

"Touch me through the panties. It'll feel real good!"

Dumbfounded, Chris let her guide his hand to her most intimate place. He felt her little mounds and noticed the plastic slide on something slippery. His mouth opened to ask what it was but the words were choked off in his throat when the door flew open.

"Come along, Cynthia, we're..."

Susan's words ended as soon as she saw what was happening. There was a long period of silence during which Aunt Edith's approach could be heard. Then Susan exploded. "Don't either of you move an inch!" Then she was gone, her footsteps pounding down the hall like a drum beat. Chris sensed that his aunt was watching them but he couldn't bear to take his eyes off the floor.

Susan returned carrying a switch. It was long and thin and Chris was terrified that it was meant for him but it was soon obvious that only Cynthia was the target.

"Got hot pants? I'll give you some heat!" she screamed as she pushed the girl toward the hospital bed. A second later she had Cynthia's dress up and the plastic pants down around her knees while the switch was poised in the air, ready for its first blow.

"I want an explanation and it better be good!"

"It's not my fault!" Cynthia protested, "Chris made me! He said I had to or he would tell lies about me."

"What lies?"

"He said he would tell everyone I had shown myself to him and touched his weenie. Then after I put the panties on he grabbed me before I could stop him."

Chris' protest rose in his throat but his Aunt cut it off. She turned to him. "What's your version?"

"She put the panties on by herself," he said softly. "Said she wanted to know what diapers felt like. She put my hand there."

"They are both lying." his aunt said calmly. "Chris has just earned himself the rest of the summer in diapers. You can do with Cynthia as you please."

The little girl looked over her shoulder at her aunt, the fear of a beating in her eyes. "Please, Auntie, I don't deserve a spanking."

By way of response the switch sang through the air and made a sharp smacking sound as it carved a red line across Cynthia's tender bottom. Before she could cry out it had made two more journeys. Cynthia dissolved into tears. Her aunt dropped the switch.

"Enough of that, but Edith's prescription for Chris is good enough for you. Want to see what diapers feel like? You'll have the rest of the summer to find out."

Then, right before Chris' astonished eyes, Susan bundled her niece into triple-thick cloth diapers and a pair of plastic pants. Her bulging loins made her dress ride up so that anyone could see that she wore diapers.

The kids stood silent while Edith and Susan went through the cupboard, building a pile of diaper supplies on the bed that would go home with Cynthia. The little girl didn't seem so curious about diapers now. She massaged her tender bottom and stifled her sniffles. Chris noticed that there was even a sleeper and he listened with dread as his aunt instructed Susan how to sew the zipper closed.

After Susan and Cynthia departed Chris tried to plead his case but Edith would hear none of it. "I can't let you out of diapers now that Susan heard me say what I said." she explained as she sewed the zipper of his sleeper shut. "You were wrong to let her get you into trouble. I'm not sure you deserve diapers for the rest of the summer but it can't hurt you."

Chris laid in bed and tried again to get used to how the sleeper made his diapers seem tighter. He thought about Cynthia and wondered how she was feeling.

The next day he saw her on the beach, dressed as he was with only a tee shirt over bulging diapers. Drawn together by their common punishment they played together and even spent nights at each other's cottages - safely sewn into sleepers to prevent trouble.

By the time the fall came Chris was wetting during the night. His aunt had tried to train him to be dry but to no avail. His diapers were sent home with him and his recovered mother toilet training him once again.

But his mother had seen the change in him and approved of diapers as a punishment. And so they stayed in his dresser next to his regular underwear, a constant reminder of what could happen to him anytime he got into trouble. Times like now.

Joan handed him his punishment tee shirt. It had "Acting Like A Baby - Diapered Like A Baby" stenciled on its front and back. He struggled into it silently and then let her lead him by the hand back downstairs.