Later in the day he heard some loud noises, like furniture being moved, and heemerged from his room to discover that the landlady had somehow brought a large table-like thing into the third, yet-unused bedroom. It looked like an examination table, four feet high and about three and a half wide by six feet long. Covered with a brownish vinyl material, it had several drawers on the side facing away from the wall.

She saw him step closer to look, and she beamed with pride. "Pretty good for a garage sale, huh?" she asked, obviously excited and pleased.

"Yeah, I guess. It's in good shape....but what *is* it?" he asked, confused.

She laughed. "I guess if you don't know, you'll have to wait until bedtime tonight to find out. But it's warmer than the floor!"

Then he realized. It was an adult-sized changing table, for him. As she stood next to it he could see it was the perfect height for her to work on him. His first reaction was, strangely, one of shared happiness: yes, this *would* make things easier and more comfortable for both of them. But it also embarrassed him, that he would require such furniture for his diapering needs. He shook his head and decided he needed to get back to studying. His preoccupation with his work must have been what prevented him from seeing this table as the permanization of his new, more infantile status. That realization wouldn't come until later.

The week was difficult, but passed, of course. His exams were tough, but his landlady's help allowed him to study a lot, since he didn't have to concentrate on chores or meals. And while, by the end of the week, he wasn't excited about the diaper changings with the lady, he now tolerated the routine, and his embarrassment about the whole thing had lessened somewhat. (He had found himself paying more attention to wiping himself on the toilet, and to his mixed relief and embarrassment, the lady had noticed. She never failed to comment one way or the other on his hygienic state: "Much better tonight!" she'd coo, or "Is *this* the way we clean our bottom?" But her reminders, as humiliating as they were, worked, and by the end of the week, she was complimenting him more often than not.) She clearly looked forward to the changing sessions, cooing and humming throughout them. They would also talk, and during this busy and stressful time, it might be the only talking they did, which was a nice change of scenery for him. So it became more tolerable for him, if not downright enjoyable.

His last exam was Friday morning, and he had had to study most of the night for it. When it was over, he was exhausted from the lack of sleep and the cumulative effects of the week. On his way back home, he could think of nothing better than taking a long afternoon nap, and when he got home, that's exactly what he did. It was a glorious nap, and didn't end until about four that afternoon, when he became aware of someone looking at him as he slept. He opened his eyes with alarm, jerking awake to the sight of the lady. She was sitting in his desk chair, staring at him intently. When she saw him awaken she shook her head sadly. He correctly took this as a bad omen, and sat up, worried.

"You scared me to death! What's wrong? What are you doing?" he asked, still drowsy and confused.

She kept shaking her head, saying, "I really am sorry it came to this, because I really liked you, and I know it's been hard for you getting used to the diapers." He was now wide awake. "I wish rules weren't rules, but..." She trailed off.

"What? What?!" he said, sensing something bad was happening. He searched his tired brain for something he had done wrong. He couldn't think of anything.

"Before we get to that, did you finish your exams? Good. Congratulations. So I'm betting you were tired, and had a nap? Great, I hope it was nice..." She was rambling slightly. He asked again what was wrong.

"Well, let's see if you can figure this out. Where are you now?"

"Right here."

"Right. But specifically?"

"On my bed, talking to you."

"And were you just sleeping in your bed?"

"Yeah. You saw me."

"Yes, I did. Does anything strike you funny about the way you napped in this bed?"

He thought for a moment, playing her little game. Knowing her, it probably had to do with diapers. She couldn't mean that he should have been wearing one for his nap? Yes, he thought: that's exactly what she meant.

She saw him figure it out, and nodded.

"But you said that I only had to wear a diaper at night!" he objected.

"No, I certainly did not. *We* agreed that you would wear a diaper *in bed.* And I don't think I'm getting technical here: we only want to prevent you from wetting the bed. That's a definite possibility any time you are asleep in that bed. Right? Look at me. Right?"

"But it was a nap," he whined.

"Oh, come on. You can do better than that."

She was right. He was behaving like a child. He paused as he thought about how to approach this problem like an adult. "Okay. You're right. I'm sorry. Now I know. It won't happen again."

She looked at him and smiled appreciatively at his attempt. "I know that, but unfortunately that's not enough. We need to decide together on a fair punishment."

He groaned. He could have expected this. "Such as?"

She paused. "I think we both know what needs to be done. I let you off the hook before, but now I don't think there's any way around it," she said sadly.

He shook his head. "I will *not* wear diapers all the time. That's too much," he said, looking straight into her eyes. "You ask me to do that forever, and I'm out of here."

"Well, I don't want you to leave," she conceded. "So I guess we'll have to compromise. Wearing diapers all the time would be an excellent way to prevent any accidents in bed at all hours of the day and night. And I think it's very important that you experience what that would be like, wearing diapers all the time, so that you try very hard not to make any more mistakes. But I'm willing to have you do it for only a limited amount of time, such as for one week. How does that sound?"

"A week?" he asked. "I don't know..." he said doubtfully. He'd promised himself a week ago he wouldn't allow this to happen. But he'd also said that he could stand anything for a week.

"Oh, come on," she coaxed. "You don't even know that you'd dislike it."

"Of course I would," he snorted.

"Now listen to me," she snapped. "You came into this house with only one rule, which you promptly broke. We fixed that with the addition of one more rule, which you have now broken *twice* in the space of one week, so far without any real punishment. Is that justice? I don't think so, and I think you know that, too. Now, own up to your mistake and take the punishment like a man, so that we can get back to some peace and quiet. It's just for one week, for God's sake. Don't be such a baby."

He absorbed this tirade quietly and knew that in some ways she was right: he had broken a rule several times and endangered her precious bed. Maybe it was time to accept a little punishment and go on. It was just a week. And he'd need at least that long to find a new place to stay. He couldn't move out today, but if he agreed to this, he could start looking and perhaps move out before the week was up. It was sneaky, but it was his only chance of sleeping in a bed tonight and not being entirely humiliated by a whole week in diapers. He nodded his head and looked at the floor. "Okay, you win."

She came over and sat on his bed. "It's just a couple diapers a day, not much more than now. It might seem hard, but I need to know I can trust you around the house. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Okay. I respect you for doing this." She patted his leg. "Now we need to discuss details. Obviously, no bathroom use for a week. I'll just keep it locked so you're not tempted, and that way we won't have to worry about using those nasty plastic panties. I'll unlock the bathroom once a day, in the morning for you to shower, but the door stays propped open so I nknow you're not cheating. You can brush your teeth at the kitchen sink. And, of course, according to our earlier agreement, I'll be changing the diapers for you. Any questions?"

He hadn't thought of this last point. It brought up an embarrassing issue. "Yes, um, can I be allowed to change the, uh, messy ones?"

"No, I'll do it," she offered generously. "I don't mind, really. It comes with the territory, of course." She smiled at him, and he smiled very weakly back. "Now, I have one more question for you," she said, turning more serious. He looked up at her, curious. "Are you still thinking of moving out after this week?"

There was silence as he discovered that he was not as sneaky as he might think. But might as well be honest; she deserved that. "I'd thought about that, yes," he answered.

"I'd like to ask a little favor," she said quietly. "I understand about wanting to leave. I do. And that's fine. It's your right, and I understand that my rules, though simple, are sometimes demanding for certain types of boys. But could you please wait for one week before you start looking? Just a week, that's all I ask."

She was pushing him again. He'd just promised himself he wouldn't stay the whole week, and she was asking him to break that promise. But he made the mistake of looking into her lonely, seeking eyes. "Uh...well...why?"

"Because you might change your mind, and I just want there to be a chance. We'll talk about it next week. You can pretend you're giving notice at a job, because there are some similarities. After all, I'm not sure how long it'll take to fill your room. I need a little time to put an ad in the paper, things like that. And then next week if you still feel like moving out, I won't argue. Okay?"

He felt himself caving. He nodded to her. Like a few days would make any difference. But he wished he had a spine.

"Thanks." She rose. "I guess we'd better get started."

He swallowed, not expecting that things would begin so soon. "Um, can I at least use the bathroom one last time?" he asked plaintively.

"I don't think so," she said. "I believe in swift sentencing." She smiled.

He sighed. She led him into the third bedroom, where the changing table lived. He took off his shoes and socks, and turned away from her involuntarily as he lowered his pants. He hopped up on the changing table, pulled up his shirt, and laid back. He'd done this enough with her he already knew the routine. He pulled his knees up a little as she opened a drawer and pulled out a disposable diaper and some baby powder. He helped her as she pulled down his underpants and slipped them off his legs.

"After we do this," she said casually, "why don't you collect the rest of these big boy underpants and bring them to me for safe keeping during the week. You certainly won't be needing them, you know." Already terribly embarrassed, he didn't want to argue. He just nodded and stared at the ceiling as she had him lift his legs.

She slid the diaper under his bottom and powdered him heavily all over. then, as she had for a week, she deftly pulled the diaper up and taped it, had him hop down, and readjusted them slightly for a good standing fit.

"Okay, all set. Now if you're wet or dirty, you just need to come to me, tell me what's wrong, and ask to be changed. And I will change you just as soon as I can. I'll try to do it immediately, but that may not always be possible, of course. But I imagine you'll be able to wait a bit if necessary; the diaper's not going anywhere, is it?" she laughed. He didn't.

"You don't have any classes this week, do you?" she asked.

"No," he said. "It's fall break. I was going to go home, but I decided not to when I found out my parents were traveling to New Jersey to visit relatives. At that point, I thought I'd rather stay here; now I'm not so sure," he said glumly.

"Oh, we'll do fine all week. The fact that you don't have classes will make things easier, of course. We'll negotiate outings as they come up. But when you're here in the house, and don't have any company, I need to be able to see your diaper at all times, not only to make sure you're wearing it, but also to see when you need to be changed. So, no pants in the house, okay? I'll keep the heat up so you're not cold. Okay?"

He drew in his breath. Another little surprise. How humiliating that would be, to walk around the house wearing only a diaper, and sometimes a wet or messy diaper at that. But like she said, it was her house, and she made the rules, and if she didn't mind seeing the diaper, then he'd have to cope. He would start looking for a place next week for sure.

"So we'll end in a week...well, it would certainly be silly to get you out of diapers right before bed on Friday, so we'll call this thing over on Saturday morning, okay? That's it. See you in an hour for dinner; how's scallops?"

Scallops were great, as it turned out, but he was thinking more about his predicament than the food. He sat on his bed after dinner, in his slightly wet disposable diaper, and had a moment of insight. He saw himself as he was, and eighteen-year-old young man willingly waddling around a woman's house in nothing but a diaper, allowing a woman to change him whenever he got wet or dirty. How bizarre and disgusting it seemed! Yet he'd agreed to it. He thought again about what that sophomore girl had said and now could see that this was obviously the same house to which she'd referred. And to a certain extent, he'd been taken in just as she'd said.

He knew now why the other boys hadn't "just run away." It had snuck up on them, like it had on him, one weird little thing at a time, until she was changing his diaper twenty-four hours a day. The good thing, though, was that he now could see clearly what was happening, and even knew, through that girl, where it might all head if he weren't careful. He had insight, and that protected him, he thought. True, what had happened so far was strange, but he was going to catch it before it went too far. He wasn't being held captive, and he would leave in one week's time (or whenever he could find a new place to stay). He was also protected by the fact that he had such a good relationship with this lady; they could talk, and she had already accepted the fact that he was moving out. So the babifying process would undoubtedly end here. He almost laughed about it now, how silly he'd been to have come even this far. But thank goodness he'd realized the mistake in time.

Buoyed by his new confidence about the situation, he tried to relax and enjoy the lady's company, as they still got along well despite the "punishment." In fact, she seemed even happier than usual, which didn't surprise him, but he was content to take advantage of it. They watched TV all evening, and periodically he would go out to the kitchen to be alone for a moment so he could pee in private. Soon his diaper became quite boggy, and though he wanted to keep the number of changes down to a minimum, he couldn't keep her from noticing the diaper's sag.

"Looks like there's a little boy with wet pants," she said cheerfully, making him blush. "Come on, let's go change that wet diaper."

During the diaper change, she mentioned that as long as he was in diapers, it didn't hurt to take advantage of them.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Well, one of the best parts about wearing a diaper is that you don't have to worry about sphincter tone, which takes more concentration than you realize."

"No, it doesn't. It's easy."

"Oh, yeah?" she challenged. "Then try to keep it relaxed for a while. Heck, try it all week. See how nice it is not to worry about it. See how relaxed you can be; you might as well, because you'll never again get the opportunity. It's interesting to see what the body normally does that you're not even aware of. Test the limits of your consciousness this week; see how aware you are and if you can change it."

Science had always attracted him, and this little experiment sounded interesting. He hardly saw the harm in it; it was just a week, after all, and it was a unique challenge. So after he was changed, he started trying to relax completely, and began to train the appropriate muscles to relax more often. It might keep the week interesting.

The following morning was something he knew in advance he would *not* enjoy, as he was sure it would be the occasion of his regular bowel movement. And sure enough, right after a breakfast of pancakes, he felt the abdominal rumblings, and he excused himself to his bedroom, where at least he could have some privacy. He found he needed to squat to get it out, and as he did so, he remembered the displeasure he'd felt the first time. This time, too, the sensations that he felt were disgusting to him, utterly gross and uncomfortable. After he was done, and his diaper was full, he stood for a second trying to decide what to do now. Embarrassing as it would be to face the lady with his messy diaper, he knew she expected it, and the sooner he was changed (and the less he moved around) the more comfortable and easier it would all be. It might be possible to get changed before his mess got all squished into his diaper. From his perspective, the easier the cleanup, the better.

So he waddled into the kitchen, careful not to move his diaper's contents around too much, but he was dismayed, when he reached the kitchen, to find the lady on the phone. He caught her attention and looked at her questioningly while pointing to his diaper. She nodded, put her hand over the phone, and whispered, "I'll probably be a little while. Why don't you go sit down in the living room and I'll come change you in a few minutes?"

His spirits sank. He hadn't considered having to wait. What terible luck. He walked carefully into the den, and, not wanting to sit, stood in front of the TV, watching disinterestedly. After several minutes, he got tired of the odors wafting up toward his face, and impatient with the lady, and he wandered back to the kitchen, again standing in front of her. She looked up, and smiled indulgently.

"It's okay," she whispered. "I'm not done yet. Go sit down. I'm sure that diaper will still be there in a few minutes." And then she gently turned him toward the den and patted his rear end condescendingly, inadvertantly spreading his mess around a little.

He grimaced at that sensation, and, exasperated, he slowly walked back to the den and stood for several more minutes before giving up. He went to the couch and gingerly sat down. He was immediately unhappy he had done so, for he exquisitely felt his bowel movement compress and expand across his bottom, the warmth spreading between his legs. He nearly gagged as he tried to picture what was happening.

Fifteen minutes later his landlady strolled in and asked if he was wet. "No...It's, well, the other thing."

"Ohhhh, does my little boy have a poopy diaper?" she asked in baby talk. He blushed as she held out her hand for him to take, and he self- consciously let her lead him into the changing room, where he gingerly hopped up onto the table. She saw his expression as he gently lowered himself back into his mess, and she laughed. "Relax," she teased. "There's nothing in there that will break." He couldn't laugh with her, for he felt that at the moment his ego was fairly fragile.

He laid down, and nearly choked at the smell released by his actions. She, however, seemed not to notice. She lifted his legs and carefully undid his diaper. He closed his eyes, trying to pretend he wasn't there. But she wouldn't let him.

"Whoa!" she exclaimed. "You were busy, weren't you? But, then, you're a big boy, and I guess big babies have big poops."

She continued talking about his bowel movement, and he continued to try to ignore her as she busied herself with her task of cleaning him. In less time than he would have imagined, she was already powdering him and taping a clean diaper on.

"Now that was a lot easier than having to do it yourself, wasn't it? Don't you feel better?" He had to admit that yes it was, and yes it did.

And with that initiation behind him, things went more smoothly. He spent his time that week catching up on sleep, watching football on TV, reading novels. She cooked and cleaned for him, and other than the obvious embarrassment, which he found was beginning slowly to diminish, they enjoyed each other's company. He didn't go out very much, mostly to rent movies for the two of them to watch, since it was a pain to get ready to go, and since he was terrified of being found to wear diapers.

Several things began to happen that week. One was that he became, if not comfortable, then at least relatively resigned to the diapers and being changed by his landlady. He had to admit it was nice not to worry about the bathroom, and he tried not to think that much about it. Consequently, the second thing that happened was that he was pretty successful training himself to relax over the course of the week. He felt secure about his diaper's ability to contain whatever he could dish out, and he began hardly to notice peeing in them. He decided that despite his complaining, the diapers *were* pretty comfortable, after all. The bowel movements were not pleasant, but they were necessary, and he decided to bear that burden as admirably as he could. Complaining wouldn't help. He just counted the days until he could do it in private again.

And by the following Friday, he was wetting freely and without inhibition; there had even been many times that he'd had to have the lady tell him he was wet, since he had not noticed his own peeing. So all in all, he spent the week relatively happy, rested, and carefree, though he was certainly ready for Saturday morning when it came. It had been interesting, but he was ready to get back to life as usual. And after the embarrassment of the whole thing, he was still definitely ready to move out.

Saturday morning found him laying on the changing table having a wet diaper removed for what he was sure would the last time. He thanked her for releasing him from his disposable confines, and headed off to the shower, where he began to think about how he was going to approach his search for a new apartment. He had kept his word, and hadn't looked yet, but today was definitely the day. In his mind he made a list of areas he wanted to check out. Surely someone had a room they could rent him, and not everyone was a diaper freak, right? As he dried himself off he thought of what he might say if they asked where he had been living and for references. He knew she liked him but he didn't know whether she'd feel compelled to mention to potential landlords the bedwetting incident, or the toilet incident, and he was afraid of how embarrassing that could be if word of the whole thing got out. Somehow, he'd have to swear her to secrecy, or this attempt to move out would fail.

He went to his room to dress and was as pleased not to be wearing a diaper as he was disturbed that he hadn't received his underpants back yet. He dressed without them, meaning to ask her about them later. He went to the kitchen for breakfast. They ate waffles in silence, and as they finished, he cleared his throat.

"I've decided to go ahead and look for a new place," he said. "It's nothing personal, but the whole diaper situation has some serious drawbacks when it comes to socializing, you know. I've thought a lot about this, and although I like you and everything, I think I need a change."

She smiled at this. "You just had one." Then she nodded seriously and asked, "What will you do about your bedwetting problem? You think that will stop just because you move or stop wearing diapers?"

He hadn't thought about that. He stood and took his dishes to the sink as he said, "I don't know. But I do know it never happened once before I moved in, so I think it was just a fluke, or maybe related to stress. I've just got to trust that since I'm an adult, that kind of babyish thing won't happen again."

As he finished speaking he glanced at her but saw that she wasn't looking at his face; her eyes were directed just above his knees. And then he felt it: a familiar warmth spreading through his crotch. But then he felt an unfamiliar, colder wetness spreading too. He looked down and realized in horror that he was wetting his pants! He hadn't even noticed. He gasped in shock and embarrassment, and tried to stop, but had some trouble. By the time he clamped down enough, dark streaks ran down his legs, and his shoes were wet. He couldn't do anything but stare at what he'd just done, something that hadn't happened since the first grade.

He heard her say, "Looks like you've got more of a problem than you thought."

"Oh, no. I...I guess it's from this week, when I tried not to hold it. Oh, shit. I trained myself to do this whenever I had to. Damn. How long will it take to train myself back? Excuse me, I've got to go..."

"I think you can wait a moment," she interrupted. "The damage appears to be done, and we've got some talking to do."

He shifted weight, very uncomfortably, looking down. His legs were getting very cold. Suddenly a light flashed, and he jerked his head up. He couldn't believe it. She'd just taken a picture of him in his wet pants! He stared, dumbfounded, no longer sure of what was going on or who was in charge anymore. She smiled at him, which didn't help his confidence.

"I also think we both know you're not really moving out."

He tried to reassert his control over the situation. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. "But I am. I'm going out looking today."

"In wet pants? That'll go over big. I don't think a lot of landlords are going to be interested in a bedwetter, much less one who pees in his pants." She looked again pointedly at his crotch, which he could feel getting still colder and less comfortable. He caught himself thinking that at least when he wore diapers it felt warm and nice. He shook his head.

"But I never used to do this. I don't ever remember this happening before now."

"You'd have trouble convincing me of that," she laughed. "And who do you think they'd believe? Me or you?"

He gasped. His mouth dropped open. "You wouldn't tell them, would you?"

She paused; his heart beat wildly. "Well, you have to understand that we landlords are a closeknit bunch in this little town. We have many similar interests, financial and otherwise. I have a responsibility to share with the others any information I think they need to know. And you already know how I feel about bedwetting. So though I like you a lot, I'm afraid that's something they'd need to know."

His strength waned, and he felt weak in his knees. This was disastrous. He needed her help, or at least her silence, to get a good place. Last week, that seemed likely, when she'd seemed resigned to his leaving. But this week she seemed determined to force him to stay. But she couldn't stop him if she didn't know he was trying to move out, he thought slyly. He quickly murmured something about her being right, and that he wouldn't leave, and then he tried to shuffle out of the kitchen to his room. He could sneak out and find a room before she knew it. But as he walked past, she froze him with her next revelation.

"That won't work either, I'm afraid. It's too late for covert operations. You see, I asked you to wait a week before looking around not because I thought you might change your mind, but because I needed time to notify all the other landlords in town about your little problem. I finished that yesterday. And just as I thought, all agreed that it would be `an insurmountable barrier' to a lease. And that was before I knew about your daytime wetting problem." She shook her head. "Can you imagine what they'd say if they knew that?"

He was stunned. Absolutely stunned. He knew she wanted him to stay, but he hadn't suspected that she'd lie to him and blackmail him to convince him. He didn't know whether she was telling the truth now or not, but he didn't really want to find out. To be turned down because of wetting himself would be humiliating beyond his wildest dreams. He was screwed, completely. He staggered back into the kitchen and leaned against the counter, not wanting to sit down in his wet pants. He was silent for a moment as he made the decision, finally, to confront her.

"Why in the world are you doing this to me? What kind of a crazy old woman are you? You want to ruin my life? Well, you're doing a pretty good job. What did I ever do to earn this? Why do you want to hurt me like this?" He was nearly crying now.

"I don't want to hurt you," she said soothingly.

"Bullshit!" he yelled. "I've talked to other people. You do this every year to someone. You've got some weird thing about diapers and making people into babies. I've heard about you, you bitch. You can't deny it."

She shook her head. "Those are rumors. If you'll calm down a moment, I'll tell you the truth." He stood, arms folded, waiting. Would this be another lie, or the real thing?

"The truth is that I care deeply about the students that end up living here. They come into my home and become special to me. They pay the rent; in return I try to satisfy some of their needs while protecting my property like any landlord. Many of the boys I have are bedwetters, and the others I kind of `help' along one way or another. How I do that is a secret, of course."

He looked confused. She'd fabricated the bedwetting incident? How? She smiled at him. "Because whether you know it or not, you all have the same problem, which, of course, is that you're away from your mommy for the first time and need, on some level, to be babied a little. I know what you kids need, probably better than you, because I've seen your kind before, and I know. If they wet the bed, fine. If they don't, I find an excuse to treat them as if they did."

She smiled happily at him. "I don't tell them right away what I'm doing, because I know they'd object to this kind of help if it was offered to them all at once at the beginning. So I phase it in slowly, and when I feel that they're ready for it all, *then* I tell them what's going on." With a proud smile, she said, "And now it's your turn."

"Turn for what? I don't need any help," he asked angrily.

"Well, the fact of the matter is," she began slowly, staring straight into his flushed and angry face, "that you're going to be my baby for a while, and I'll serve as your mommy in this town, until I feel that you've adjusted enough to this college atmosphere that you don't need my help anymore. I'll be honest: that could be several weeks, or it could last the whole time you're here at school. I can't tell at this point."

"Are you insane?" he asked incredulously. "What makes you think I want this or will let this happen?"

"It's pretty simple," she said calmly. "Everything we've done up to this point, the diapers, the changings, everything, has just been practice. Sort of an orientation for what lies ahead. Most boys have the most problem with the diapers, so I tried to phase them in gradually. And you willingly accepted them at every stage, even up through last week, when you wore them all the time, like you will from now on."

She paused and then answered his question. "You see, I'm sure this is what's right for you, so I made sure that it didn't really matter *how* you felt, or if you wanted to do it. It doesn't matter at all what you want. We've come this far, and I won't let all that time and energy be wasted. There is no turning back now. When you gave me your underpants last week, I took them all to the Salvation Army," she told him. "It's all over, and, in fact, it has been all over since you signed your lease."

"Wanna bet?" he challenged. "You're crazy, and I'm getting out of here. I don't care what you're told the other landlords. When I explain to them what happened, they'll understand. It'll be a little embarrassing, but nothing compared to what happens if I stay with you! See ya." And he stormed quickly from the room.

She caught up with him in his room as he was getting out some clean jeans and socks.

"I understand how you feel," she said, "but I still don't think you'll leave. I don't think you want me posting these fliers all over campus."

She handed him a page that said:

.

"LOST!! This year's baby from 1169 Oak St.! May be seen wearing diapers, plastic training pants, which may be wet or dirty. If found, please return to his mommy. He's been very bad, and he needs a spanking!"

And under the words were a picture of him in a diaper and the plastic pants, apparently taken when he was asleep, with his name and physical description. He grabbed it angrily, tore it into as many pieces as he could, and threw it onto the floor.

"I've got lots more," she said quietly.

With a wave of despair he realized she'd won. He couldn't leave, not without sacrificing his friends, shelter, and dignity. He thought briefly about leaving college, but the thought of that was even more absurd. Where would he go? His cold, wet pants only added to his misery.

He sat down on his desk chair with an uncomfortable squish, and asked through tears, "Why do you hate me?" He thought about the past several months, when he had trusted her, thinking she was just a little weird, thinking he was really *choosing* to play her game for a while, when all the time she was deceiving and manipulating him, trapping and humiliating him.

She stood next to him and ran her fingers through his hair. "Oh, sweetie, I don't hate you. On the contrary, I care very much about you. But I had to do this to you because it's so obviously what you need, what will be good for you. Someday I'm sure you'll thank me, but you've just got to trust me for now. It won't be so bad, you'll see. You've already gotten through most of the worst, I promise. And once you accept it, it'll make it a lot easier, too." She talked softly to him, comforting him with a maternal flair that was honed by years of practice.

He'd stopped crying by now. "How long do I have to wear diapers *this* time?" he asked sadly.

"Like I told you, I'm not sure. At least through the end of this semester, but probably longer. There's a good chance you'll wear them for your whole four years here. We'll just have to take it a day at a time."

He sat in silence for a moment, shaking his head slowly and trying to let his situation sink in. "I can't believe I have to wear diapers again."

She nodded sympathetically. "Most boys think that they're worse than the other stuff, but you'll get used to it all."

He looked at her, worried. "What other stuff?"

"Oh, do you want to go over it now?" she asked. "Well, I guess we should."

"*What* other stuff? There's more?!" he asked unhappily. He'd missed this point somehow.

"Oh, yes, sweetie. Diapers are only one part of being a baby," she laughed. "For starters, I don't know if you noticed the attachments on the bed for railings, but it's a pretty secure crib when we get it put together. Then there are the clothes, which are just darling. They were made by some of my retired friends, who love to see them modeled each year; they've been dying to meet you, but, of course, I've had to wait to introduce you until after today. I've also got some lovely footed sleepers with wrist ties, some toddler pants complete with snaps...you'll love them. I've also got a nice high chair we need to bring down from the attic, where I stored your changing table, and some pretty bibs. We'll need to get those cupboard locks back out, because you may not like your new diet, which will change kind of drastically. And the bathrooms will stay locked, of course, but that won't be a problem, since you won't have to bathe yourself anymore. You'll love some of the toys I've accumulated; you'll spend countless hours playing with them in your playpen, I'm sure."

She smiled at him as he sat in shock. "I know it's a lot to take in, but if you got through the diapers, you should get through this eventually."

He just sat there, in shock, his world spinning around him. What would that sophomore girl say? Somehow he didn't think he stood much of a chance to date her now. And his parents and friends: how could he keep this a secret?

"Well, let's get those wet pants off of you. She led him into the changing room and helped him remove the sopping jeans. She used baby wipes to dry him as he stood there, overwhelmed with shame at not having noticed his babification over the past several months. How could this have happened? How would he ever endure?

She interrupted his musings as she sat on the edge of the room's only chair, saying:

"One more thing. You've said several naughty words recently, and you tried to lie to me about not moving out a little while ago, so I think it's time you got acquainted with an important concept in a baby's life: discipline."

She sat on the chair and patted her knees expectantly, indicating that he take the appropriate position over them. He shook his head sadly and his eyes teared up as he slowly walked over to her.