The next day, I went over to Tim’s house excited that my parents had given me permission to take the bus with him to go to the movies. His parents had also agreed but he didn’t seem as excited as I was.

“Don’t you want to go anymore?” I asked.

“Sure, I do,” he answered. “It’s just that something else has come up.”

“What’s happened? Did your parents put conditions on our going?”

“No, not exactly,” he assured me. “Last night, I told my mom and dad about your idea that Carl might be mad at me because I don’t wear diapers anymore. They think that you could be right. They want me to do an experiment to test your idea.”

“What kind of experiment?”

“They want me to wear diapers to see if that might make Carl more calm around me.”

“Really?” I asked in surprise. “For how long?”

“As long as it takes to be sure if it works or not,” he answered glumly.

“They said that I don’t have to but I know that my mom will be really disappointed if I don’t.”

“Gee, I’m sorry I said anything. I kind of feel like it’s my fault… I’ll do anything to help,” I said after a short pause.

“You will? Thanks!” he said. “If we work together on this we can probably shorten the amount of time the experiment will take.”

“How’s that?” I asked, confused.

“Don’t you see? If we’re both in diapers we’ll be able to convince my mom even faster that the way we’re dressed won’t make any difference in Carl’s behavior.”

“Me? Wear diapers, too? In front of your mom and dad?” I screeched.

“You said you’d do anything,” he said accusingly. “Didn’t you mean it?”

“Sure, I did,” I answered. “But how can my wearing diapers help?”

“Look,” he began explaining patiently, “you haven’t met Carl yet but he doesn’t take well to strangers. My mom has got this idea that Carl will feel more relaxed around people who wear diapers, and me in particular. If you help me in the experiment we can prove that diapers have nothing to do with anything.”

I took a few seconds for me to put my finger on the faultiness of his reasoning.

“But won’t my involvement complicate things even worse?” I asked. “If I get involved in the experiment and we prove that Carl won’t come near me, you mom will still want you to keep on trying all alone, won’t she?” “Maybe,” he said after a short pause. “But at least she’ll already know that the experiment is a long shot. She won’t be expecting it to succeed—she might even give it up sooner. Please help me—I don’t want to spend months in diapers all alone at home.”

I came up with one more roadblock to my involvement in the experiment.

“I don’t know that my parents would allow me to get involved in something like this,” I said. “I don’t know how I would explain it to them, either. It seems so… embarrassing.”

“Will you let my mom explain it to them?”

“I guess so,” I answered shakily.

We had to wait about a half-hour for Tim’s mom to come out of Carl’s room. Tim told her about his idea and my reluctance to ask my parents about it. I was relieved that she didn’t answer right away. I assumed that she was looking for a gentle way to let Tim down. “That’s a very generous offer that you’re making, Billy. I don’t think that there are too many boys who would put themselves forward like you just did.”

I blushed at her compliments and looked down at the floor.

“You are also very perceptive. You pinpointed a possible cause for Carl’s behavior towards Tim that none of us had thought of before. I think that it would be very good if you could participate in the experiment, too. You might notice other things that no one in the family would see. Thank you very much for offering.” She bent down and kissed me on the cheek. I was shocked (and not because of the kiss) that she was apparently accepting my offer. Tim became very excited.

“Thank you, thank you,” he repeated several times. “I owe you.”

“Settle down, Tim,” his mom said. “I haven’t spoken to Billy’s mother yet. She might not agree that it’s a good idea.” My heartbeat started slowing down again. Please, mom, I thought, say no.

We went back up to Tim’s room while his mom called my mom. I didn’t hear any of the conversation but I knew what my mom’s answer had been as soon as I saw the expression on Mrs. Perals face. “Everything is settled,” she said happily. “Your mom was thrilled to hear that you’re being so generous. She is very proud of you.” I smiled as best I could and nodded my head. I was afraid that if I tried to say anything the words would get stuck in my throat. “We can start after lunch while Carl is taking his nap. Your mom volunteered to go the to pharmacy to pick up a supply of diapers, plastic pants, and other necessities to outfit both of you for a couple of days.”

I was shocked but not surprised. My parents always set high standards for my sister and me. I guess my mom thought that what I was doing was worthwhile so she would get involved, too. Neither Tim nor I was looking forward to this experiment, although he thanked me several times for volunteering to join him. I was too polite to contradict him—it seemed to me that he had ‘volunteered’ me and not the other way around. For the rest of the morning, time seemed to be all screwed up. Sometimes it felt like it was crawling and other times it felt like it was flying by. The only constant was the dread I felt at being put back into diapers. I hoped that Tim was right—namely, that everything would be over in a couple of days. My mom showed up around 11:30 with an armload of diapers and plastic pants.

“Why do we need all of those for just a couple of days?” I asked. My mom and Mrs. Perals chuckled a little bit.

“You obviously don’t know how many diapers a baby goes through every day. These are Tim’s supply of diapers; yours are at home,” my mom explained.

“I have as many as this at home?” I asked in horror. “Why are they at home? I thought that I would be wearing them here.” “You will,” my mom answered. “But, you don’t expect Mrs. Perals to take care of washing your dirty diapers, do you?” This time it wasn’t just my voice shaking—I was also having trouble standing up. My mom took me home for lunch. I don’t remember what we ate but I remember trying to stretch it out for as long as I could. Eventually, my mom lost patience.

“You’ve spent enough time at the table; finish your milk and go up to your room.”

I forced the milk down and went upstairs feeling like I was going to jail. My mom tried to put a positive spin on what was going to happen. “You know, Billy, dad and I have always been proud of you. What you’ve volunteered to do for Tim’s brother is very decent and dad was very pleased to hear of the sacrifice that you’re going to make.” The more my mom spoke the guiltier I felt about hating what was about to happen. Everybody seemed to be proud of what I was doing but I just felt angry and scared. I was mad at Tim for putting me on the spot; I was beginning to suspect that he had set me up on purpose. And then there was the matter of my school friends. If word of this got out to any of them, would they think I was doing something noble? I doubted it; I was pretty sure that they would just laugh at me and call me all sorts of names.

“OK, Billy, take off your shirt, pants, and underpants and then lie down on the changing mat on the bed.”

Even though my mind knew that I wouldn’t be putting on my own diapers I hesitated to follow my mom’s instructions. It had been a long time since I had been naked before her. She waited patiently and I eventually found myself lying on the changing pad. My mom moved my hands away from my crotch and began to clean the area with a warm washcloth.

“We have to be very careful about rashes,” she explained. “It’s important that you be perfectly clean each time you get put into a fresh diaper. When you were a newborn… roll over so I can clean your backside… I wasn’t doing a good enough job of it and in about two weeks you had a tremendous rash. Nothing like that had ever happened with your sister when she was little so I was shocked. The doctor told me that certain babies have more sensitive skin than others. Anyway, we don’t want that to happen again.”

After I rolled over again, I watched as mom folded three diapers together. She asked me to lift up so that she could position them under me. They felt soft and fluffy. The powder came next. It felt cool against my skin as my mom shook it on and very relaxing as she spread it around. It smelled good, too.

“You’re not a little baby anymore so I’ll be using two pins on each side to keep your diapers secure. You wouldn’t want your wet and soiled diapers falling down all the time, would you?” she asked with a chuckle. I wasn’t ready for diaper humor… Actually, I wasn’t ready for diapers at all. I felt myself panicking.

“Mom, why do I have to do this at all?” I asked in a tense voice.

Mom stopped pinning the diapers.

“Honey, I know that this must be awfully scary for you. I have to say that I was surprised when Mrs. Perals told me you had agreed to do this experiment. Did Tim force you into it?”

“No,” I answered, “I don’t think so. I’m the one who said I would do anything to help. I didn’t think he would take it the way he did.”

“Oh,” my mom continued, “I see. You do understand that the word ‘anything’ really does mean any thing, right? But, if it’s too hard for you… do you want to back out now?”

“No!” I answered strongly. “”It’s… it’s… I just wish I didn’t have to do this,”

I said pointing to my diapers.

“Listen, Billy, I have a good feeling about this. I think that in a few months you’re going to be very happy with yourself for having helped out Tim and Mr. & Mrs. Perals, and, most especially, Carl—even if nothing comes of the experiment.”

“I know,” I said (trying to convince myself that it was true).

“Are you ready to finish up?”

My mom fastened the remaining pins. The diapers felt awfully tight but I assumed that she knew what she was doing. She then guided the plastic pants over my sneakers and pulled them up my legs. I lifted up again so she could pull them over the diapers. The leg opening and waistband also felt very tight. I guess this was good—it didn’t want these sliding off either when my diapers were wet or soiled. Soiled? Did my mom really say that my diapers would be soiled?”

“Mom, do I really have to use my diapers?”

“Yes. For everything,” she answered. Mrs. Perals and I agreed that that would be the only way to convince Carl that you really do wear diapers. She said that Carl, like you, notices everything even though he doesn’t show it.”

I couldn’t believe it. I would have to talk to Tim about this. There had to be some other way.

“That’s also why you’ll be wearing diapers twenty-fours a day, so that you’ll start to feel natural in them. Now, get up and let’s see if your diapers are properly tucked in.”

She ran her finger along the edges of the leg openings causing me to giggle. This sidetracked me from thinking about wearing diapers twenty-four hours a day.

“See, it can’t be that bad if you can still laugh. Here, put this t-shirt on… it goes well with the diapers.”

I put on the yellow-and-white striped t-shirt. She was right—it was perfect for wearing with diapers… unfortunately.

“What about pants?” I asked.

It was clear that my regular pants would never fit over these bulging diapers.

“You won’t need any,” she answered matter-of-factly. “Carl never wears them unless he’s being taken out somewhere, mostly to the doctor. Besides, he doesn’t like them so it’s actually better that you and Tim don’t wear any either.

“How will I get over to Tim’s?” I shouted in panic.

“Shouting won’t help anything, Billy. You’ll walk, of course.”

“But the neighbors will see me!” I said just as loudly as my last statement.

“Billy, there’s no need to shout,” my mom answered irritably. “As you’ve pointed out many times, there are no other kids your age in this neighborhood and, while I was at the pharmacy, I ran into Mrs. Harrels. I explained to her why I was buying diapers and plastic pants. She was very impressed with what you and Tim are doing. I’m sure she’ll explain to the other neighbors why you boys are back in diapers.”

I wanted to be indignant that my mom had told a neighbor; however, I was too unsettled to put my thoughts into words. How could she? Tim and I were going to be the talk of the neighborhood! This couldn’t be happening—I was going to wake up soon and find out that this was just some weird dream. I was going to laugh really hard at how silly it all was. ****